I’ve been doing a bit of Mt. Laguna singletrack on Friday evenings with a colleague and his friends. Some conflicting feelings about trail riding have kept me from the mountains for a while. As transportation cyclist, I have issues with driving a car and burning fuel to, then, ride a bicycle. But some phenomenal recent rides in our backcountry and in Los Angeles, Redlands, and Orange County have shaken me from my do-gooder green funk. There are trails I ride to regularly from Central San Diego: Los Peñasquitos Preserve, San Clemente Canyon, Tecolote Canyon, and Rose Canyon. The road-wear on my rear knobby tire testifies to this. But I’m now all for driving out to a ride – carpooling preferably – if it means getting out into nature.

San Diego County contains the most biodiversity of any county in the lower 48 – and our mountains – a mere hour from downtown – are full of pine, cedar, oak, and many critters. One such critter is the mountain lion. There are also rattlesnakes. And cows.

I got a late start to meet my group at 5pm, but I figured some spirited driving would get me there within minutes of the start. Then it rained while I passed on Interstate 8 through Mission Valley, and traffic seized up. I arrived 15 minutes late, and the group had already left. The group spoke about the diminishing daylight this time of year after our last ride, and I hoped they’d begin without me, as I didn’t want my tardiness to delay the ride. Indeed, upon arrival, I discovered they had already begun. I was relieved.

Without much thought, I got my Rawland off the rack and started a long downhill before turning into the forest for technical singletrack. The Rawland is not a mountain bike, per se. It as a rigid all-rounder fitted with 650B (27.5) Pacenti Neo-Moto 58mm knobbies run at about 35psi. I love this bike on trails, as the larger wheels roll over most things and the old-school approach makes finding a line more important than bombing over everything, which dual suspension facilitates.

Once I entered the forest and the technical stuff, I had a thought. “Aren’t there mountain lions around here?” Then I had a couple more thoughts: “Don’t they hunt at dusk?” and “Aren’t trail users advised not to ride or hike alone?” Its kind of like spear fishing or snorkeling. Once a white shark enters one’s thoughts, it cannot be expelled.

I began singing and then talking very loudly, so as not to surprise a wandering lion. I talked about my work: “I need to finish this PROJECT!” Then I talked about the ride: “I’m coming around the CORNER!” When I saw the moonrise, I began making up words to the Creedeence song “I Hear a Bad Moon Rising.” It was a lovely moonrise:

My paranoid ride was nearly complete, after circumnavigating Big Laguna cattle lake and skirting Nobel Canyon. Heading back up to the parking lot, I came upon a few large cattle standing on the singletrack. The rutted trail had already suggested heavy cattle presence. One of these cattle was particularly heavy – a bull. That word seems a bit cartoon-ish. But is there another word for a large cow with a penis and sharp horns? The other cattle trotted off after I made cowboy noises like like the bad guys did in Shane. But this bull just focused on me, and then began huffing and shifting his weight around, kicking up dust with his legs. I stared at him. He was locked in on me. I stood between him and a barbed wire fence. I saddled up, and slowly pedaled by. He never took his eyes off me. I somehow made it past the beast, and then rode like hell up to the safety of my oft-ambling Volvo wagon.

When off pavement, I prefer fire roads and hard-pack trails with an all-rounder fat-tire roadish bicycle, as such riding provides many opportunities to enjoy the view. Sometimes, singletrack focuses my vision too much on the ground, and not enough on the wonderful wilderness I’m passing through. But one of the great things about riding singletrack in the wilderness is that it delivers you right into the wild, and all the primordial fears come with it (fears of a city kid, admittedly).

…You might as well go really big:

What a great inspiration build from Banjo Cycles. This “Big Dumb Pug” mixes the concepts behind Surly’s Big Dummy longtail and a fat-tire, Endomorph-clad Pugsley. I love the idea of fat tire bicycles, but most of what I imagine rolls on some Schwalbe Big Apples or Fat Franks. But this looks like so much fun.

I would imaging that riding around town on such a vehicle would elicit a permanent smile and lots of comment. You could go anywhere, and enjoy the view while bumping around with your load. This longtail is not merely a car-replacement, but an armageddon bike.

I recently drove a morning commute for the first time since 1996. Since then, I’ve been lucky enough to walk, take the bus, train, or cycle to work or school. Currently, my daughters’ nursery school is about 20 minutes away (the cause of great enmity between my wife and I – now mostly resolved), and it was my turn to drive her there. I came home frustrated and angry – and in disbelief that we’ve decided to set up our urban life in such a de-humanizing way.

While preparing to get into our old Volvo and head out, I fantasized about the commute. I would be driving on a cool September morning, hot coffee in hand, with NPR on the radio and my daughter happily looking out the window. I’d be part of the excitement and hubbub of the day – part of the morning rush. We got in the car, buckled in, and headed out.

Initially, my fantasies played out. I enjoyed the meandering drive from my house to the freeway. There was dew on the car, and or neighborhood seemed fresh. Then, we got on the freeway, and I remembered that commute times do not facilitate courteous driving. As we slung on the freeway, cars rushed at us and wouldn’t let us merge to the left. We were almost directed onto another freeway. I got the bird when I finally forced the issue, using the indicator and relying on the old 240 wagon to push its way over in its trademark dorky, no-nonsense manner. Throughout the drive, motorists tailgated, slammed on their brakes, honked, and exceeded the speed limit. There was a sense of danger and dissatisfaction that permeated the experience. People had looks on their faces that reminded me of what one might see among slot players at a third-rate casino – sheer boredom mixed with hopelessness and misery.

We got to school, and I saw my daughter off. Then I headed back home to get on my bicycle for the short ride to work (I don’t have a parking permit). As I drove home, I couldn’t shake the feeling that we are all slaves. Now, we are not slaves, but there is a submission that seems especially acute during drive times – a submission to a system of production and consumption that sustains itself and forms an infinite loop. We herd ourselves to work, consuming fuel, driving cars that cost tens of thousands of dollars, over an automobile-based infrastructure costing tens of millions of dollars, so that we might go to work, make more money, pay taxes that support the infrastructure that makes the commute possible, and earn money so that we might buy more things, like cars and petrol.

I’m being a bit unfair. Our economic system relies on a certain level of conspicuous consumption. But my car commute brought the system into sharp focus. Perhaps, as I do the commute more often, these issues will melt into the background. But I do know that even though I’m riding to work on my bicycle so that I can sit at my desk and do my work, there is an inherent sense of independence, efficiency, sustainability, and freedom that I etch out into my day on the bicycle that I can’t get in a car. Walking is almost as nice. I only wish that more people – perhaps some of the hundreds that I encountered on my motor-commute, might give themselves the chance to feel it.

As has been noted around the bicycle internets, many of the big, mass-production bicycle makers will offer steel bikes as part of their line ups, and come spring, local bike shops should be full of new “old fashioned” bicycles from the big names. Here are a few:

Electra Ticino:

Fuji Connoisseur:

Specialized Allez Steel:

Trek Belleville:

These are all mass-market, major names in cycling, and they seem to be paying attention to what’s going on not only on the custom framebuilding scene, but also to utility cyclists who create very practical randonneuring and city bikes from Soma, Surly, Kogswell, and Rawland on the low-price end. Move up the price and quality chain, and I’m sure plenty of inspiration has been gathered from many of the bikes built up by Rivendell, Jitensha, and Waterford and the many excellent reviews in Bicycle Quarterly.

I have read in some places that these new steel bikes are “ripping off” ideas from the insurgent retrogrouch movement (Velo Orange), but most of the good ideas from niche bicycle designers or retailers just borrow from tried-and-true ideas. When people know what they are doing (Grant Peterson, for example), the combination of design knowledge and a reliance on time-tested bicycle ideas can create cycling nirvana.

I hope that these new steel frames create a larger tent for those seeking a more interesting riding experience, although none of them interest me that much (I love the Soma Buena Vista). Maybe that will happen. Maybe when one of these bikes comes in 650B!

A lot of people could benefit from coming across a stylish utilitarian bicycle, in the ilk of the British 3-speed or French porteur bike, while shopping for a transportation among the Trek hybrids and Specialized Langster singlespeeds at their local bike shop. A lot of folks coming back to riding are just trying to get on a bike, and maybe a Dutch city bike, with its considerable heft and long wheelbase, may not be the best option (despite what the NYT Style section says). I think vintage is probably the best route for something practical at a relatively low price. Most 80s steel frames – especially the touring Treks, Miyatas, and Bridgestones – and old 3-speeds are as stylish and practical as they come (if you live in a flat-ish area). But some people don’t buy anything “used.” Kogswell, Surly, and Soma offer good utilitarian frames, but you have to know how to build them up.

Anyway, all of the above options are wonderful. But some folks just want something new, and often these are the same people who shop by price. So, they’re not going to support a custom frame builder — just yet.

I’ve always thought the Bianchi Milano was pretty smart. But here, Electra, a San Diego company, is coming out with the Ticino later this year. Inside word is that they will be at Interbike in September, and will be offered at different prices based on the builds (from basic single speed to kitted out randonneur models). They will come in traditional and step-through. Pretty cool, if it serves as a feeder to custom builders.

More information can be found here.

I’ve been following Russ & Laura’s project, and its worth visiting their site, pathlesspedaled.com:

“In March 2009, Laura Crawford and Russ Roca made the decision to drop out of the status quo and find others around the world who have done the same. Paring down their lives to just what will fit on two bicycles, Laura and Russ are embarking on an extended bike tour throughout the US and beyond…”

The simple pleasures of riding a bicycle can translate well to the rest of one’s life. Riding often begs the question of stuff in general – simplicity, beauty, utilitarianism, and reliability help one enjoy the scenery. Perhaps these same qualities can enhance life and are good guides in choosing the material things that we surround ourselves with.

I’ve done my little part in helping Russ sell his stuff, by buying these Ostrich panniers from him (so much for getting rid of things!):

I’ve only used them for book hauling, but so far I like ’em. Sure, they look good, but they are a bit limited in capacity, especially when compared to Ortlieb packers. Perhaps more on the bags later as I get more experience with them.