A Most Excellent Adventure :: Humpback Whales!

Friday, August 27th - - On my way to Juneau on the Alaska Ferry on Wednesday several people offered their opinions on the best tours there. The overwhelming consensus was that the Tracy Arm Cruise to the Sawyer Glaciers with the Adventure Bound was the absolute best. So the first thing I did when I got to Juneau was to stop by their office, which was very easy to find, and make my reservation.

Our cruise was aboard the little boat on the left, which is owned by Steve and Winona Weber. Steve is also the Captain of the boat and he promised us it was going to be a great day – especially since it was his birthday!

Departure was right on time at eight o'clock. Not quite filled to capacity there were about 40 passengers onboard. As you can see, it was another cloudy-gray day and we all had our fingers crossed just hoping that it would not rain.

Because of the overcast skies, the first portion of the cruise was a little dreary. The clouds generally covered the mountain tops, or rather they hovered over them and everything was rather grayish and dull looking. Some of us would occasionally go outside for a little while but when the boat was moving at full speed it was very cold.

Not quite an hour into the cruise, Captain Steve made a sharp turn to starboard (right) and broadcast over the loudspeaker that whales had been sighted. He went on to say that he usually doesn't stop for whale sightings on the way to the glaciers but that these were too good to pass by.

Everyone was excited. We couldn't see them in front of us yet but could tell that the Captain was excited too. After what seemed like a long time, but in actuality was only about 15 minutes, the boat slowed down. Still in the distance up ahead we could see three whales spouting off. Wondering why he didn't go closer, we were directed to look to the right and there was a pod of seven Humpback whales – and they weren't very far away! We had all been so intent on looking at what was ahead of us that no one had seen the second group of whales.

They were amazing. After about ten minutes they disappeared beneath the surface of the water. When they resurfaced, Steve moved closer towards them. The first group of three that we had seen had moved south while these seven were going north. Then we saw another group of three coming towards us. Several times the whales went beneath the surface and each time Steve went after them. At one time the whales were quite close to the boat. It was so much fun watching them. It was incredible. None of the whales breached – jumped up out of the water – but they were so cool to watch. Everyone was on the outside decks, moving around, trying to get the best shot. You could feel the excitement.

Three in a row.
Going down.
They were so close together! One spouting and another going down.
They were coming right towards us! But they turned before they got closer.
Three of them together.
A few more tail flips...

Then there were at least four of them together!
Huge and amazing!
And then they were gone... Awesome!
We spent about half an hour with the whales and when they came up the last time they were way, way off in the distance. Steve turned the boat around and we resumed our journey to the glaciers. It was one of those “WOW” moments (many times over). Talking with several other passengers, one of them made the comment that nothing could top that! But he was to be proven wrong...

Green Giant Buttress Dreamer ..

Finally, our schedules and weather cooperated to let Steve and I climb together. Since it was early October, and the snow level was around 5000' most of the week, we decided alpine options would be a little cold and snowy (for rock climbing.) We made the decision Thursday night to make an attempt at Dreamer (5.9) on Green Giant Buttress.

Temps were hovering around freezing as we made the drive out to Darrington Saturday morning. The drive in is pretty straight forward. Although with a standard sedan, you may wish to stop earlier than Steve and I. (We bottomed the car on rocks a few times.) A high clearance 4WD could get even further than we did. Our driving progress stopped at a slight pullout on the left of the road just before a ditch.

We started hiking the road and after a 1/4 mile came to the point all vehicles would have to stop. Brush got thicker, but it was never that much of a bushwhack. Beta for the approach was accurate, and after some point in time we were near old mining debris and crossing the "braided stream." This is where is got slightly tricky. We approached the base of the "three tiered waterfall" as described in the approach. There was a very faint trail through serious vegetation right at the base of the falls. It did not look easily passable. So Steve and I hiked up a slippery slab at the first tier of the waterfall and found a more suitable looking path. We did a not so fun bushwhack up this path for about 10 minutes until it became a dead end. We hiked back down and found the correct bushwhack start from the falls. Which was at the base of the slab we climbed. It is currently marked by a log going up from the water into the bushes.

Once we found the correct drainage, things started going more smoothly. A bit of bushwhacking and we were back to homo erectus. Now on semi-wet slabs scrambling up the drainage. Near the top of the drainage we had a choice, go right up something that looked like the side of a moraine (Rock loosely embedded in dirt.) or go up a "path" to the left. We wrongly chose path. If we had looked at the beta, we would have correctly gone right and taken less time and danger to reach the base of the route, but instead this is what followed:

Photo by Steve Machuga.

We scrambled 3rd and 4th class slabs for a bit. (And possibly some 5th class moves.) We even got out the rope at one point. Then the rock eased a bit, and we were finally near the base, where another party had left a pack. We geared up and from what I can tell, scrambled some 4th or 5th class up to the base. (Actually we got the rope out again for the final bit to the base.) At this point it was close to five hours since we left the car.

I led out on the first pitch, and according to Nelson's topo, combined it with the second pitch. From where we started, we were just shy of a full rope length, so there was about 15' of simul-climbing that Steve and I had to do to reach the anchor. Because I am blind, I totally missed the three bolt anchor and slung a bush and brought Steve up.

Steve started out on the next pitch, which looked too run-out for my taste. (Once again, we couldn't see bolts correctly and this pitch was somewhat off-route.) This pitch is supposed to go right and then up, but the bolts we could see were directly up and then far right. It wasn't until it was too late to turn around that we saw the bolt directly right of the belay, and the line of bolts leading up below the bolt we "aimed" for. Steve felt "our" variation was in the 5.10a land. This wouldn't surprise me, as the first bolt he clipped was on the Urban Bypass, which I believe goes at 10a. He made a scary run-out traverse over dirty rock to reach the next bolt. (No pics, as I was watching him closely.) I followed up behind, taking what may have been a slightly easier path.

We got to the next pitch where I led off on somewhat run-out knobby slab. The climbing was enjoyable and got the heart beating a bit. Steve led up the next pitch which had some awkward moves up what was called a 5.7 corner. The pitch was fun and ending in the most comfortable belay stance since the top of the first pitch. Steve led out on the next pitch which is the one Dreamer is known for. It starts in a shallow corner with easier climbing. It then goes to the top of a pillar, where a bolt is clipped. Then traverses right with no protection up to the bottom of a large flake. Then a 5.9 traverse back left and over the flake to enter "The Blue Crack." An awkward, 5.9 flake/crack that brings you up to the next hanging belay. Steve led it in fine style. I got cold at the belay as the sun went behind the ridge. I was getting tired and I think the cold I was getting all week finally was getting the upper hand. I followed behind, but felt really tired. (I also hadn't eaten a lunch yet.) I took a fall midway through the 5.9 traverse. Regained my composure, but had to struggle the rest of the way up the pitch. At the top, I asked Steve what time it was, and he said 4:30pm. I told him we had two hours of daylight, and it was in our best interest to descend.

This turned out to be a wise decision, as we had minor difficulties rapping with daylight. (One rap left Steve 15' shy of the anchor, and I had to lower him.) I had to make an intermediate stop to make sure I would reach the next anchor. On the last two raps, the other party reached us, and we shared their ropes for the final raps. I was a little slow packing up, and we lost them going into the bushwhack. We turned on our headlamps and headed downhill. Steve and I then proceeded to march around (through?) vine maples for what seemed an eternity before we regained the gully where we should have left it in the morning. The rest of the scramble/swhack/hike out was uneventful, but all by headlamp.

Overall, the climbing on Dreamer is a step up from what I am used to doing. I think my difficulties with the 5.9 pitch were more due to fatigue than my climbing ability, but I will most likely have to wait until next year to tackle that climb again.

Pics are located here.
(I included Steve's pics as well.)

Feeling Slow? A Simple Explanation

It's funny that no matter how much cycling experience we gain, we remain susceptible to those silly mistakes and those "duh!" moments. I am sure I have many, but the most recent one really had me smacking my forehead.

For the past month I had been favouring my vintage Raleigh and not riding the Pashley as much. When I finally did take out the Pashley last week, I noticed that it felt more sluggish than I remembered. I thought this was strange, but chalked it up to my having gotten out of shape and the vintage Raleigh being easier to ride. But the sluggish feeling kept growing worse, and neither of us could figure it out. Until finally, cycling behind me, the Co-Habitant realised what was wrong: My tires were nearly flat! There were no punctures; they were just low on pressure and neither of us had noticed.

I know it's absurd to overlook such an obvious thing as tire pressure; it is the equivalent of wondering why your computer is not working only to realise that it is not plugged into the wall. We do usually top up the air in our tires at reasonable intervals, but my Pashley slipped through the cracks. I wonder whether the cold temperatures played a role in it as well? Now that my tires are re-inflated, the Pashley flies again (really, the difference in speed and handling is amazing). However, I do think that I will replace its native Marathon Plus tires with Delta Cruisers come springtime; the latter just feel livelier and more enjoyable to me. In the meantime: If your bike is feeling slow, do check your tire pressure before looking for more complicated or sinister explanations!

Key West, Florida

Just a short trip down to Key West, complete with an ice cream stop!

Paradise to Muir -

December 29th,

I just did a nice check on Camp Muir this morning. I left Paradise at about 9:00 a.m. It was a little chilly. I was really surprised how few skiers were actually out. Kudos to the brave soul who marched up the Nisqually and skied the chute solo. Style.

First things first. Attention everyone. There was a wicked layer of surface hoar that didn't get any sun action today before the clouds started rolling in. It's going to get buried. There are all sorts of facets in the snow in the top 20 cm. What's worrisome is that the surface hoar is growing on a layer of sun crust. Underneath the sun crust is another layer of facets. Check out the snowpit profile.


Click on the image for a better, more readable size.

Expect these faceted layers to remain intact on all aspects for a while.


So the rest of the trip to Muir was outstanding. Skiing was 7 out of 10, for the windswept snowfield, anyway. The new snow that is forecast should make the skiing even better.


One thing I want everyone to be aware of is what we call the "Ant Trap". Remember that sand pit that Luke got thrown into by Jabba? Well, this is kind of like that.

It's located right next to McClure Rock. Click that picture to the right and note the coordinates on the bottom of the photo: -121.724123 46.808050 (WGS84). Plug that into your GPS and avoid it like the plague.

Many people have been eaten by the Ant Trap and more than a few have broken bones because of it.

Things are looking good at Camp Muir, albeit there is a lot of snow. Remember you'll have to dig your way into the upper half of the middle toilet. So plan on a little shoveling before you are moved to use it!



Also, remember if you're coming up to climb, to stop at the Paradise Old Station (the A-frame in the upper parking lot) and self-register. You can also pay the 30 dollar climbing fee to the 'iron ranger' there as well.

A storm was quickly moving in, so I had to ski-dattle. Down at Paradise, the parking lot is completely full! Hundreds of cars and sledders.








December 23rd, - Sweet Turns at Paradise!

This is it. Finally our snowpack at Paradise is back to normal at 78 inches. The rain from the last warm spell has stopped and we have up to 18 inches of new snow that has consolidated and another 5 inches of pretty light snow on top of it.


I started up the road this morning after we opened it at around 08:00 am. The light on the mountain was absolutely spectacular. It was clear and there was a little bit of surface hoar when I went to the weather station this morning. Here was the weather obs:

High: 22 Low: 16 Current: 22 Precip: .02 New: Tr Total Snow: 78" Winds: N @ 3-4.

We had our morning chores to do, cones in the parking lot, bumping sign andbamboo in the snowplay area, then folks started coming in droves.
The snowplay area is open and the runs are fast. However, because there's relatively little snow, we can only put one run in. The lines are a little long. Remember to get out of the run when you've come to a stop!

About noon we headed up towards Pan Point. What's this? It's noon at Paradise on a sunny day and there's no tracks? Where are all the skiers? Gary Voigt was up making turns in upper Edith Creek below McClure.


We've been telling people for years that the right way up Pan Point is in the trees on the nose. However, sometimes I think you're better off just going up the gully. We should've. The south facing part of the nose of the ridge was a little wet and heavy. It was starting to crack as we got onto steeper ground >40 degrees.

Always evaluate your own avalanche conditions!


We crested the ridge and decided to head for the top of Pan Point at around 7200 feet.

I was still surprised to see no tracks up above us since we had such a late start and the Paradise parking lot was FULL.

Whatever, the more powder for us.


Well, the way down was fabulous. My favorite run is to cut underneath McClure Rock. It's a little less exposed to the cliff bands around Pan Point. I rarely find avalanche conditions out this far. However, I did notice a crown feature on those cliff bands back down towards Pan Point. East facing, steep, ridge top... no surprise.

However, out where we were, the snow was outstanding.

Once we hit the flats to the east of Pan point, we traversed down the top of Mazama Ridge until we got to a slope locally known as Bundy's Blunder. It's just upridge of Sluiskin Falls. There was some slide deposition on it from the sun action today. It was only 4-5", but wet and heavy. It was enough to carry us, so we traversed out a hundred yards to the right and merrily made sweet turns all the way to the Paradise Valley Road.

Here's the latest weather history comparison:

Date 12/23

Max Recorded Snowdepth at Paradise 166 inches

Year of Max Recorded Snowdepth at Paradise 1916

Historic Average Snowpack at Paradise 77.9 inches

Current Snowdepth at Paradise 78 inches

Percent of Normal 100.13%

Percent of Historic Max 46.99%

Average Hi Temp: 32

Today's Hi Temp 22

Average Lo Temp: 21

Today's Lo Temp 16


Come on up! It's good!

Bellavista on 3.5 limbs

Cold but happy climbers after Bellavista. Photo: Alan Cassidy (you should read his blog, it’s really good)




Before my ‘long shot’ trip to Bellavista with Alan Cassidy, I had a small hiccup. I was leading Hold Fast, Hold True (E9) in Glen Nevis a week before we were leaving and didn’t quite catch a hold right after the crux, slipping off and decking out from rather higher than one would like. I got away lightly, with quite nasty whiplash and a sprained left ankle. I was able to walk, well, between the kettle and the couch anyway. So I felt it wouldn’t be a problem for the upcoming trip.




I left it 5 days and then tried to get a couple of pre-trip training sessions in TCA before we left. To my dismay, I discovered that I couldn’t even nearly get a rockshoe on my fat, bruised foot. I had a session of one-footed traversing anyway and then went for an X-ray since things seemed to be getting more, not less painful. Sure enough, a couple of bone spurs that have restricted my left ankle dorsiflexion ever since I broke it in 1997 had broken off and are irritating my ankle joint. Some day surgery awaits. I’m quite looking forward to a couple of weeks of Beastmaker abuse during the Lochaber monsoon next month.




By the day we left for Cima Ovest, I’d managed to walk round Morrison’s, take Freida to toddler group and lie on my side in bed without taking Tramadol first. Things were looking up!













Alan trying to get the psyche to rock climb in winter climbing conditions




As I wrote in my last blog, we then proceeded to spend most of the trip being hammered by crap weather. The route was soaking, it rained, snowed, snowed a lot more and then got windy and freezing. We tried to climb on the 8c pitch anyway, but both of us knew we were getting absolutely nowhere. We became totally set in the viewpoint that having been soaking all week, the chances of it drying out a bit in our remaining three days were zilch.












Being practical, or venting wet weather frustration? You decide.




But it didn’t quite work out like that. On the third last day, I went out for a look on the 8c pitch first. The first half was still wet, but the second half was nearly dry, and I could link it to the belay straight away. Quite good. Alan went for his go and was also feeling like he could get to grips with the pitch a bit more. But then, as he was out of sight near the end of the pitch, I heard an “AAAAAGGHHH!”. The rope jerked momentarily tight, then suddenly slack again. Another loud scream and Alan appeared into view, dropping through space. He stopped, dangling at least 15 metres down in the void, with quickdraws sporting ripped pegs spinning down the rope towards him.




He was just sitting on a peg, brushing another damp hold when it ripped and the previous one ripped too. It must have been an exciting journey into space! After having a good laugh about Alan’s trip, we had a think about where this left us. There was now a big section near the end of the pitch with no gear in it. We were on budget flight mode and hadn’t been able to bring any pegs or aid gear in case we needed to re-equip.












In the end, we managed to borrow a hammer from the lovely folk at Rifugio Auronzo and I set up a tension traverse to back-aid and free climb back along from the next belay to the bit that needed re-equipping. I managed to get a sketchy cam in a pocket and gingerly sat on it and proceeded to fail to get the two ill fitting pegs to go in somewhere other than where they’d been before. After an hour, I had it sorted and the route was back online.




However, we had one day left. I just wanted to get the gear back and get home. Everything was wrong and I felt a bit fed up to be honest. My ankle hurt on the walk-in, I couldn’t do certain movements with it on the rock, I’d had my fill of climbing wet rock or frozen rock, we’d not had even one good day to try it properly. Worst of all, it was baltic.










Shall we go climb an 8c north face route today?




We’d not seen a single other party climbing on the north faces all trip. I’m not surprised. On the last day we wandered up, both of us ready to strip it and get on our plane home. Alan climbed the first three pitches (7b, 6c+, 6a+) in one big pitch again. He was clearly struggling to get any feeling from fingers and toes. It was well below zero and blowing a bitter wind. Seconding him, I felt like a frozen robot, clawing up the rock with zero feedback from my digits. Leading the next two pitches (7a, 7a+) I still couldn’t even get my core warm despite climbing in myArete jacket. However, by the time a freezing Alan joined me, the wind had dropped a bit and I was feeling more myself with the full belay jacket and trousers armoury on.




I went out along the start of the 8c and was most surprised to find a special scenario of feelings come over me that doesn’t happen every day. The pitch was the driest it had been all trip. First, there was the sudden rushing feeling of being confident flowing through the moves rather than constantly expecting to ‘ping’ off wet holds. ‘I can still climb!’ Second, the ‘last day’ go for broke mentality clicked into place. When all the preparation has gone so badly, what do you have left except to see what can happen if you just don’t care anymore and go for a good fight with the pitch? Finally, I knew I was going to have one link attempt, so I might as well get it over with as quickly as possible and get home to see my family.













Alan drying holds on one of the 'warm' days




So after the five minute warm up burn, I blasted off at full tilt, through the crux and onto the weird back-and-foot rest at the block above. I wasn’t that pumped. So get going! Up through the mono move and onto the big traverse. I was breathing hard but forearms were absorbing the hit so far. At the undercut move I decided to start really trying and grunted through. But I was able to rest each hand on every hold. I got down to the move before a rest at a huge ‘Hueco’ pocket. My sequence is to fling my feet up into the hole first, have a rest in the bat hang and then flip round and throw my whole arm into it. My ankle was so weak I couldn’t pull up on the toehooks and nearly fell off. I took a few seconds more to figure out what to do, before resting my left foot once and then trying again. It worked and Ihung from the arm-bar for five minutes, breathing slowly calming down. The final ten metres was a pure exercise in relaxation. I knew I could get to the belay if I didn’t make a mistake. The only way I’d make a mistake would be if I started to anticipate success. So I just switched off and pneumatic-ed through the holds with no emotion until the belay suddenly appeared in front of me.




Switching off completely means that when you do wake up and realise it’s done, it’s quite a shocker and the emotion comes flooding back. Alan wasted no time in gathering every down garment we had assembled at the belay and jugged up to join me, already shivering. I thawed out a little in the duvet while Alan cruised the 8a pitch above. I still had to jug up the rope and be lowered back down to do it myself, just to get the blood moving. The wind just kept cutting through me and in the next two pitches (6c+, 7a) I got really pumped on what should be easy ground. There just seemed to be no blood going through my forearms. We both had to second the remaining pitches to the Cassin ledge in the big jackets and duvet trousers! Never done that before, even in mixed climbing. There was just time to strip our gear out of the roof as it was getting dark and made it down to the base to find everything was frozen solid. We packed, rushed back to the car, then Venice for three hours sleep before boarding our flights back to Scotland.




It was really interesting for me to share the experience with Alan, who hasn’t done a great deal of mountain big wall climbs. Failing when the route is hard is something most climbers can deal with pretty well - why else do we try such hard climbs except to feel pushed and feel uncertainty? But failing through not being able to properly try can get under your skin. I certainly still find that creates a lot of restlessness in me. Last week I channelled it into finishing a draft of my book while the blizzards raged outside. Alan took it all really well and was able to keep turning on 'mission mode' all the way on the last day redpoint, despite the scary fall the previous day. His blogs through the week are a nice illumination of an adventure unfolding, the final twist coming right at the last hours before the flight home.




Even now I can’t believe that came together.

Riding and Writing: Meeting Malachi O’Doherty

It is a clear afternoon after a long spell of rain, and I am sitting in the front room, trying to work. Although really I am looking out the window as I wait for my guest. He is taking the train from Belfast, then riding his bike the rest of the way to my rural dwelling. I have given extremely detailed directions and hope he finds the place okay. The kettle is on. I compose myself. I will keep it cool upon meeting him, and by no means will I act like an excited 12-year old. As I tell myself this one more time, I hear the unmistakable ring of a bicycle bell.






Last year I posted a review of the book On My Own Two Wheels by Malachi O’Doherty- a Belfast writer who rediscovered cycling in his 6th decade of life. As part of his plunge into all things bicycle, Malachi had been reading my blog. Unbeknownst to him, all the while I had also been reading his writing - on the conflict in Northern Ireland. His books on the subject are a unique mix of personal and political, morphing effortlessly from sharp social commentary to novelesque memoirs, complete with details of his sex-life. Starting withI Was a Teenage Catholic and The Trouble with Guns, I went through the books one after another.I was drawn to Malachi's writing not only by the topic, but also by how organically he intertwined such seemingly disparate genres. I have done some political writing in the past, including co-authoring a (tearfully dry and boring) foreign policy book. But more recently, I've been working on some fiction/memoir type writing, which has been profoundly messy and frustrating. Reading Malachi's work helped me see that what I thought was impossible to write about, on my own terms, was in fact possible. Of course I never dreamt of approaching the author to discuss any of this... until we "met" through Lovely Bicycle. Life indeed can be stranger than fiction.






Now I'm in Northern Ireland, and Malachi O’Doherty is outside - in person. He looks friendly, simultaneously distinguished and youthful, and slightly out of breath. He is wearing a leather bomber jacket over jeans and a flannel button-down, an outfit in which he'd cycled 15 miles in the heat. At this moment I forget he is a writer whom I am eager to meet, and relate to him as cyclist to cyclist. I come out to greet him and examine the bike so vividly described in On My Own Two Wheels. It does not disappoint. Decked out in all manner of commuter and touring accessories, the steel blue Ridgeback stands out from the sleek racing bikes that fill the country roads around these parts.






There are lights on every braze-on, and racks galore.






There is a handlebar bag, strategically positioned above the external cables of the Shimano shifters (notorious for interfering with handlebar bags).





There is an adjustable stem.






An enormous roadster-style bell is mounted to the drop bars






A heavy duty foldable lock graces the downtube in leu of a 3rd bottle cage.






An invisible ink security system provides extra theft protection.






A bar-end mirror is mounted so low I am compelled to ask whether he can actually see out of it ("Nah, not really" Malachi laughs.)






But the pièce de résistance is the forward-set saddle - which lends the modern touring bike an air of an antique pathracer. Malachiexplains that, after some time, the bike's fit felt simultaneously too big and too relaxed. So he simply reversed the seatpost to solve both issues.




Overall, the bike comes across as both amusing and somberly dignified - which I suspect is how the owner intends it.For over tea I discover that Malachi is one of those rare people capable of being both intensely serious and intensely funny, switching between these modes seamlessly. His speaking voice is that of a natural story teller. And there is also something of the “seen it all, heard it all” country doctor about him. I get the impression there is little one could say to shock this man: that whatever shameful thing you have to reveal, he will just chuckle and nod, as if it is perfectly matter-of-course, in the scheme of things. I imagine all this is a useful toolkit for a journalist, dealing with such a touchy topic as the socio-political climate in Northern Ireland.






On me Malachi's manner has an immediate disarming effect. I feel at ease, and also like a younger, less jaded version of myself. We talk for several hours, and none of it is bike related. Then we go for a ride, continuing the conversation. Malachi is quite good to ride with. We meander easily as we talk, synchronisng speeds and weaving around each other. At one point a dog leaps out from a farmer's yard and, to my horror, goes for my companion's ankle. This does not seem to phase him in the least. "He's got my trousers!" Malachi remarks with a laugh as he shakes the angry little creature off. Then he continues with his train of thought. It occurs to me that this is how he's learned to deal with life's problems - and, more specifically, with being threatened, as a journalist writing about sensitive topics.






We talk about writing, and how doing it every day becomes addictive, like cycling. You don't feel right if you don't ride. And you don't feel right if you don't write. It almost doesn't matter what and for how long, as long as you write/ ride something that day. In that vein, we also talk about "real" writing versus writing you do because it is easy, or a change of pace, or a tactic to deal with writer's block - filling those gaps when the real stuff does not flow. Lately Malachi has been submitting stories to an erotica magazine (here is one about cycling, if you're curious) that are exactly that. The stories flow easily and he has fun writing them. But he wonders about the relationship between these pieces and his "serious" work. I nod. As I see it, there is nothing wrong with erotica per se - except thatit's a closed genre, that once a writer settles into, can be difficult to escape. A bit like vampire stories, or murder mysteries, or ...bicycle blogs for that matter.




Before heading off, Malachi gives the Binevenagh climb a try - curious after reading my description. He tells me it is steeper than the Torr Road near Ballycastle I would not even consider the previous year. I am surprised to hear that, and now I want to give Torr Road a try. Riding, like writing, does grow easier over time.

Brooks Saddles: Demystifying the System

Lately there has been some discussion about Brooks saddles in the comments sections of the posts. We have Brooks saddles on all six of our bicycles, and we have learned a lot about them. So I offer these notes for those riddled with indecision about which Brooks to get.



When choosing a Brooks saddle, there are really only two main factors to consider: width and spring. I will try to explain the role of each.



WIDTH



The basic rule is: The more upright your riding position (handlebars above saddle level), the wider your saddle needs to be. Brooks saddles come in several width categories.



For upright riding: The B72, B66, B67, B68, and B73 are all pretty much the same, generous width and are all appropriate for a an upright bicycle. Which one of them you will prefer depends on your preference for sprung vs unsprung saddles, and whether your bicycle has a modern or an old-style seat post (for example, the B66 and B67 are identical, except the latter is designed to fit modern seat posts).



If you are heavier than 200lb and are riding a completely upright bicycle, you may want to consider the B33 or the B190. These are extra heavy-duty saddles and can take even the weightiest of riders on long upright trips.



If you are female, love Edwardian design, and have a bicycle with very relaxed geometry, there is also the B18 "Lady". This is a very wide and short saddle, designed to be ridden by women wearing skirts and sitting completely upright on a bicycle with an extremely slack seat tube. See here for a detailed discussion of this saddle.



For leaned-forward riding: If you are riding in a forward-leaning position so that your saddle is right at or above the level or your handlebars, in my opinion there are only two Brooks saddles to choose from unless you are a very aggressive cyclist: the B17 and the Flyer. These are in fact the same saddle, only the Flyer has springs and the B17 does not.



In my view, all the other Brooks roadbike saddles (the B17 Narrow, the Team Pro, the Swift, and the Swallow) are too narrow for the majority cyclists who are likely to be reading this post. Many do not want to hear that, because those racing saddles often have the coolest aesthetics and come in all sorts of crazy colours and special editions. But cycling forums are full of people who bought the narrow saddle and are not able to ride them - either due to discomfort, or because the saddle falls apart under the rider's weight. The cycling style of a serious road cyclist is so aggressive, that their butt really only floats on the surface of the saddle, rather than actually sits upon it. That is what these saddles were designed for. If this does not describe your cycling style, I urge you to get a B17 or a Flyer.



SPRINGS



Sprung saddles provide suspension, the benefit of which is that you feel more comfortable going over bumps on the road. The drawback of suspension, is that you have less "control" over the ride. Which you prefer can be only decided via trial and error. For an upright bicycle, I would venture say that most cyclists tend to prefer the sprung saddles. For a more aggressive bike, it could go either way.



It is worth pointing out that not all sprung Brooks saddles are sprung equally. The B72 has minimal springs. The Flyer has larger coils, but they are very tight and provide a feeling of shock absorbtion rather than full spring. So if you are considering putting a Flyer on a roadbike but are worried that it may be too bouncy, it may not necessarily be the case. The B66-67 is generously sprung. The B33 and B190 are monstrously sprung, so choose these carefully.



"MEN'S" vs. "WOMEN'S" SADDLES?...



You may notice that many saddles are offered in a "woman's" version, where the saddle number is followed by the letter "S" (B66 vs B66S). I think this system is often misunderstood. The "S" stands for "short", and these saddles are simply shorter than their non-"S" counterparts - making them somewhat easier to mount and dismount while wearing a skirt without the skirt getting caught on the nose. I have ridden on both "S" and non-"S" saddles, and am still not sure whether the skirt-snagging difference is significant.



SPECIAL FINISHES



As for things like "Special," "Aged" and "Imperial" versions of the saddles, there is some debate whether they improve the saddle or not. The "Special" finish is more attractive and hardy than the regular finish, and features copper rivets. However, I and others have found saddles with the "Special" finish to be harder to break in. The "Aged" saddles are supposedly treated with some polymer, which some cyclists say improves their softness, while others say worsens it. And be careful choosing the "Imperial" versions of saddles, with cut-outs, because while some find those cut-outs helpful, others find them extremely painful. In short, my impression is that when in doubt it isa safer to go with standard finishes - unless you have a chance to try the saddle extensively.



To summarise it all:

If you need an upright saddle, choose one of these. If you will be cycling in a forward-leaning position, choose one of these. And unless you are an aggressive road cyclist, stay away from these. Sprung vs unsprung, and "S" vs non-"S", are personal choices within each category. Of course in the end everybody is different, but I believe this summary is applicable in the majority of cases.