Strategerie Follow-Up

I posted last time about my efforts to find a way to ride that wouldn’t put me out on the road in the deafening wind of late February. I had a primary plan of heading down to the I&M Canal Trailhead in LaSalle, with a backup plan of just going into town and riding around the all-too familiar streets of my childhood home.

I’d formulated the backup plan because I really didn’t have a clear idea of what the conditions would be like on the Canal Trail. This has been a struggle both with respect to finding out current conditions, and how the trail is managed for the winter and snow in general. Viz: do they clear the trail, do they groom it for skiing, do they let snowmobiles use it? What’s the story?

I’ve tried asking after this on social media in the past, but the extensive nature of the trail makes it difficult to sort out - it appears that different areas may manage their sections of the trail differently, so sorting out an answer for the area of one’s own specific interest can be challenging.

You know - unless you actually go and look at it. This has been on my list for some time - the last several years, to be honest. But the trailhead is a half-hour away, and there are usually other things to do (like riding out of my own driveway) to compete with the investigation.

I figured this was going to finally be my opportunity to find out.

Let’s get the good news out of the way: I didn’t have to resort to Plan B.

When I got the trailhead it was clear that the low-lying nature of the canal and the woodlands around it were helping to avoid or screen out most of the wind that I had been contending with on the open prairie. This was sort of a bonus - I thought that might be the case, but I wasn’t really sure it would turn out to be.

The trail itself turned out to be an interesting mix of surfaces. A couple of days of above-freezing temps had melted the snow away in the more open spots…

Open Asphalt

…while the shady areas retained more coverage.

Residual white stuff.

I also quickly got my answer to how the trail is managed for winter use:

I can see why you’d want to mark this as a danger spot…

In addition to the hazard marker there were also “curve ahead” signs on a couple of sections of the trail further down. I’m a little ashamed to admit that at first I found these a bit odd - I mean, what cyclist rides so fast on these trails that they need a curve warning? - before I realized that they were for the snowmobiles.

The snowy sections made it clear that, despite the signs for the powered sleds, there is quite a bit of mixed use of the trail. There were lots of footprints, dog tracks, and at least one extended section of cross-country ski markings. So: it would appear that this section of the trail, at least, is not cleared, nor is it groomed for skiing. All of which is well enough - I have no objection to snowmobiling, and in fact spent a fair portion of my youth sliding around the winter countryside on an Artic Cat Lynx my own darn self. But it means that you’d likely need a fat bike or trike to tackle it when there’s been a sizable deposit of the white stuff (and I do not currently have such a machine in my stable).

But none of that applied to this ride. The snow-covered sections were not so deep that they couldn’t be managed by my mostly stock Catrike Expedition with her road tires, so I was all good on that front.

I did become acutely aware of a couple of things as the ride progressed, however. First, I was thankful for the presence of my fenders for, oh, say, the thousandth time, as temperatures in the mid- to high-40°’s conspired with the snow to allow for a lot of standing water along the trail. I also found that, while my rear fender does prevent that telltale cycling mud-stripe from appearing on your back, it is still possible for your posterior to become soaked under the right circumstances.

It was also clear that I had hit the trail on perhaps exactly the right day. Where the snow had mostly melted away the ground was soft underneath. But, thankfully, the thaw had thus far only affected the first inch or so of topsoil. This meant that, while it was slow going in some spots, there was none of the deep mud suck that can happen after several days of spring warming. It took me a little bit to figure out, but it turned out it was a little better to ride thru the wetter sections of the trail. The standing water was perhaps acting as an insulator, or possibly was just a sign that the ground underneath hadn’t warmed enough to absorb the water, but either way it was typically more solid that the stuff free of moisture. I’m pretty sure it sections would be very challenging with another day or two of temperatures above the freezing mark.

Valencia at New Bridge (that’s my name for it - I don’t know if it has an official name…)

I decided to stop at the new bridge over the former rustic creek crossing. This spot is a little over seven miles in, and so made for about a 14-mile round trip. This fit nicely with the time I had allotted for the ride, and if I’m being honest, as wet as it was, I did not want to contend with the clay-soup sections that lie between the bridge and Buffalo Rock State Park.

As it was, my orange girl collected a fair amount of trail residue along the way…

Dirt from the expedition on my Expedition.

…but that’s a good thing in the grand scheme of things, because the dirt means I got to ride. And all in all, it was a good ride. A few more days of thaw and it would have been considerably less pleasant - soft, slow, and messy - but then that’s a reality of both the big canal trails here in northern Illinois. But I was able to luck in on a good moment this time around.

Soft

Winter Cycling Strategerie

February is, hands down, the most challenging month for winter cycling here in northern Illinois.

You might think, as you read that sentence, that it’s the snow or the cold that makes it more challenging. If you are not from the region it’s an understandable thought, and that is a part of it. But there’s more to it.

The early portion of the month often is cold and snowy, But it gets warmer here as we move into the second half of the second month. Today’s high is projected to hit 49° (F), and we already have an ambient temperature of 35° at 9:30 this morning.

But with that increase in temperature comes the first vestiges of the winds of spring. While we have what many would consider a delightful forecast temperature-wise, the entire day is also projected for high winds:

Harbinger of the Winds of Spring

My weather app says that the current wind speed is sitting at 22mph. More importantly, I can hear that wind pounding against my window as I sit and write this. While the warmer temperatures remove any concerns about wind chill (which could otherwise be moderated by proper clothing), the higher wind levels make it very difficult to hear anything around you on the open road.

Motor vehicle traffic is very forgiving on the northern Illinois backroads - people here are very accustomed to sharing the road with slow-moving equipment. Even so, I’m reluctant to share those roads when I can’t hear things coming.

That combination of early February weather and late February wind is responsible for making it routinely my lowest month both for rides and for mileage. But I gotta get out and ride, so it seems like it’s time for some different strategies.

---

Enjoying this post? Check out our Cycling page for links to other cycling articles on Applied Life

---

I’ve decided to come at this from a couple of different directions. The longer-term strategy involves getting a fairing for my Catrike Expedition. For the uninitiated, a fairing is essentially a windshield for bikes and trikes. There are many advantages to having them, including weather protection in a variety of conditions - snow and rain, for example - and aerodynamic advantages on speed. And I’m hopeful that it will additionally decrease the ambient wind noise around me when I’m riding on the road.

Getting a faring has been on my mental list for quite some time, but they are not an inexpensive addition for the trike. However, I’m pleased to say we’ve reached a point where this addition is finally feasible.

Of course, now that it is, when I finally go out looking for one it turns out to be hard to find them in stock. I suspect that this is due in large part to that two-headed monster born of the 2020’s: supply-chain issues and the Great Resignation.

So I spent my morning following the strategy of seeking it out on websites for trike-friendly cycling shops. I’ve found this to be successful in the past - both when shopping for TerraTrike heel slings, and more recently when looking for the chain gobbler for MLW’s Pocket. The rationale here is that, while the manufacturer may not have any in stock, cycling shops may have some inventory on hand. This appears to have been successful, as both Utah Trikes and The Hostel Shoppe appear to have Windwrap Fairings on hand. I have ordered from both in the past, and had very good luck with both companies. I put in my order with the Hostel Shoppe this time around primarily because it’s more local - Steven’s Point, Wisconsin is sort of in my midwestern neighborhood. It’s nice to shop the “local” guy where possible, and if I’m being honest I also figured that it being closer would mean a shorter shipping time.

Of course, ordering a fairing doesn’t help for the 20+ mph winds today. In order to get my ride in today I’m going to head down to the I&M Canal Trail. The canal trail takes me off the road and largely removes the risk from vehicle traffic. It has the additional benefits of running east-west on a day where the wind is pounding in from the south, and being somewhat sheltered with tree cover on either side for much of that section.

There is an unknown to this strategy: I do not know what the condition of the trail is at the moment. I’ve seen recent pictures which suggest some light snow coverage, but they pre-date the most recent snowfall. And with the recent precipitation and higher temperatures today, it’s possible that sections of the trail will be muddy or flooded - the sheltered nature of it is due, in part, to being in a very low-lying area along the Illinois river.

For that potentiality I have a backup plan. If the trail isn’t cooperative, I’ll head back towards home and stop in Mendota - our nearest town, and my hometown - and lay out a ride there. It’s the least attractive option because it’s literally scenery I’ve been around my entire life, but the buildings in town will block the wind.

So that’s the strategy, both today, and for the longer term. We will see how today goes, and of course we’ll explore more when the fairing arrives. It’s time to ride!

Das Boots

When it comes to winter cycling, one of the most challenging parts of the equation - coming just after “how do I keep my glasses from fogging up”, is keeping your extremities warm. People who have been doing this for a while have likely arrived at their own answers to this question (I would assume that anyone who isn’t able to sort out an answer to this has long since given up on the idea of riding in the winter).

This is true for myself as well. I’ve got different levels of weather gear lined up for different temperatures. Although it often takes me a couple of rides to sort out which level I need to be at when the temperature shifts, particularly when moving from my medium gear to full cold weather gear.

The reason for this struggle: the boots

For anything below about 30° F I typically shift gear to my nuclear option for warmth: a pair of heavy-duty, wool felt-lined, waterproof Sorrel’s. These boots are warm, pretty much impervious to any moisture, and they are at least a size and a half over my regular shoes, which allows for plenty of room for thick socks, even in layers. I even have room for chemical warmers in there when I need them.

These are them, on the left, along with the middle-tier hiking boots:

Das Boots

---

Enjoying this post? Check out our Cycling page for links to other cycling articles on Applied Life

---

Sounds great, right? And from a warmth and weatherproofness standard it is. The difficulty is that those Sorrels weigh approximately one metric ton (Seriously, they do weigh a lot - I don’t have a scale, but REI lists the weight for the modern version of these boots at 5lbs for the pair, with a fully synthetic liner. My boots are older, with a liner that is a wool blend, so I’ll bet they are slightly heavier). I’ve convinced myself over the years that this is okay - I am out there on the trike for exercise, right? A little heavy lifting on the pedals is just a bonus, right?

Right?

But if I’m being honest, the reality is that I sort of dread transitioning to the Sorrels. To avoid it, I tend to push myself out to colder temperatures in my hiking boots, trying to convince myself that toes being a little numb is good for the soul. More recently I’ve begun adding chemical warmers to the hiking boots to make them functional down to lower temperatures. This works to a degree, but it also starts to add-up costwise.

Which, ultimately, gets to the heart of the matter. Some of you, at this very moment (or possibly sooner) have already said to yourselves “why not just get warmer boots? You know, ones that don’t weight a metric ton…”.

I’m not completely dim - this has occurred to me as well. But I have an ongoing problem with my Cheapness Gene firing up at any point that I start to consider buying something that I already own a solution for. The Sorrels work, and I already have them, so I really shouldn't be out there shopping for other boots. Or at least that’s what the Gene says to me.

Thing is, once I’m at the point of applying a non-reusable item that also has a cost for every ride, the calculation starts to work out differently. A 40-count box of toe-warmers comes in at about $23 on Amazon. Depending upon the weather, these usually last about a season and a half for me. But when I realized it was time to order up some more of them a few weeks ago, my Cheapness Gene started to relent a bit.

I spent a little time on an obscure shopping website) from a company based in Seattle and, with a little bit of back and forth, landed on a pair of Rockmark Men’s Winter Snow Boots.

My key criteria for this was that they be warm, but also lightweight. The Amazon page indicated that they were good to either -25° or -30° F (both claims are made on the same page, so…), and multiple reviews referred to them as being lightweight. Of course, when they arrived I found that I’d ordered the wrong size, so I had to then go and order a second pair and prepare to send the first ones back. But once the second pair came in it was time to try them out:

Boots on Pedals

My initial impressions are very good so far. The pair of the Rockmarks are lighter than even one of the Sorrel boots (Amazon lists the pair at 2.43lbs) - in fact, they are comparable to, and maybe lighter than my hiking boots. They are fairly rigid, but give enough to allow for comfortable pedaling. And they are warm.

In fact, they are warmer than the Sorrels are. This was unexpected - I sort of thought that I’d have to keep the Sorrels in the cycling rotation for the very coldest of rides, but that’s not the case. I started out for the first couple of rides with the new boots outfitting them with the same types of socks I would have worn with the heavier boots, and my feet were actually a bit too warm. I’ve since started to dial back the socks, and with relatively thin (tho still wool - always wool) socks I’m finding myself perfectly comfortable in temperatures that would have previously required the thickest of stockings. All without the use of chemical warmers.

The weight difference is enough that I’m also seeing a real-world difference in performance. I don’t expect winter riding to be fast - it is always slower than the rest of the year. But in my first outing with the Rockmarks I managed to pull my best time ever on my Rocks 8 route:

It’s about time

(For reference, this is a route that is half-gravel and which, as a result, I only ride in the winter ).

So now I’m finding myself wondering why this all took me so long (stoopid Cheapness Gene). And all of these are initial impressions of course. It hasn’t been super-cold here yet since I got the new boots - in fact, it’s ranged from the low 20’s to the mid 40’s (F) for the rides I’ve taken over the week or so that I’ve had them. This morning, however, we have the mercury sitting at a solid 10°, with a projected high of 16°, so today’s ride should provide a bit more of a test.

An additional note to add here: I’m aware that there are other options to consider for one’s feet. In particular, I know a lot of folks like to use heated socks. I did look at these, but most of the decent options - e.g. rechargeable, etc - appeared to come in at a cost level not that far below the boots I ended up buying. And at the risk of an over share, my feet have a tendency to run on the… moist side. I’d likely need to wash them after every ride, so I’d be concerned that I’d wear them out relatively quickly. Hence: boots.

The Ghost (of Winter) in the Machine

When one thinks about the challenges of engaging in winter cycling the first thing that comes to mind is how to keep oneself warm. This is a reasonable enough thought, of course, particularly as you are just starting out. I suspect most folks, if they decide they are going to stick with it, figure out what works for them on that front fairly early on, and then stick with what works. I know that that is the case for me.

The variable that seems less predictable - and thus to present ongoing challenges - is the machine itself. I’ve done winter cycling on multiple machines. Early on I primarily rode my Cannondale SR400 in the winter months - the same machine that I rode in the summer. I would very occasionally alternate this with the Schwinn mountain bike that we also have in the stable. But since getting my Catrike Pocket in 2017, all of my winter riding has been on three wheels, first on that machine and now, since the winter of 2019-20, on my Catrike Expedition.

With the switch from two wheels to three my cold weather riding has increased considerably. I’d originally looked at winter riding as a replacement for cross country skiing. I really enjoyed cross country skiing, but it was becoming increasingly rare for us to get enough snow in our area to get out, and when we did it always seemed to melt before I had a day free to enjoy it. Given that, when I switched I rode in the winter, but not a lot, really. Looking back through Cyclemeter, between the four winters of 2013-14 and 2016-17 I clocked a total of 18 rides.

In my first winter with the trike I clocked in 26 rides - more than the four years prior combined - and it’s gone up every year since. The trike offers multiple benefits over uprights for winter riding, not the least of which is not suddenly disappearing out from under you when you hit a patch of ice (I’d never gotten to the point of investing in studded tires for my upright bikes).

With that increased activity, though, comes the realization that winter isn’t just challenging for your own body, but that the cold also takes its toll on your machine. Anyone who has hopped in the car to head to work on a January morning only to turn the key and hear that heart rending slow churn that tells you the battery has decided to take a powder knows this to be true. But it is also true for cycling machines.

Last year I ran into struggles with my left brake freezing up - and doing so, unfortunately, in the locked position. This led to the only time as an adult that I’ve had to call for a pickup (well, so far, anyway).

This year it’s issues with shifting. As I noted a few weeks ago, my trip up to Wisconsin for Thanksgiving seems to have gotten moisture into the cable line for my rear derailleur. This has been mostly fixed with liberal applications of WD-40. I say “mostly”, because down below about 15° F the problem re-emerges, and I’m then stuck with the three gears to which the front derailleur continues to give me access.

And that front derailleur apparently isn’t super pleased about its increased workload, and is showing some issues with wanting to stay in place, leaving me at times to ride with my left hand on top of the handlebar to keep it still. This is an oddly intermittent problem - I can, at times, reset it and get a couple of miles out of it, and then have it recur and I cannot get it to stay put. So far it’s not clear to me that it’s temperature related - I’ll likely investigate that further today.

If all of this sounds like complaining, I don’t intend it that way. While I may get a bit frustrated with it at times - suddenly, unexpectedly dropping from the middle to the small ring can be a bit jarring - mostly I think of it as representing part of the challenge to winter riding. With the increased cold-weather riding, I’m encountering - and learning about - how the cold affects the machinery, and what needs to be done to address those issues. It’s part of the challenge of winter riding.

This is, after all, part of what winter sports offer. It’s not just the opportunity to get exercise and enjoy nature, tho that is certainly a part of it. Winter sports presents with that additional challenge of contending with, facing, and (hopefully) succeeding at beating down what Old Man Winter presents us with.

Winter Wontderland

I’d like to file a formal complaint.

I think I’m pretty clearly on record with loving winter cycling. I love the brisk, cold air, the ever-changing nature of the snowy landscape. I enjoy the challenge and, yes, occasional struggle of sorting out what the correct level of clothing is for perpetually changing situations.

But the month of January, thus far, keeps handing out days that are unsuitable for winter riding.

When I say unsuitable, it’s not that they are too cold - I am convinced at this point that there isn’t such a thing. As the saying goes, there no bad weather, just bad clothing. But for most of the days of this recalcitrant month other factors in the weather have been working against me.

I am predominantly a road rider and we have the benefit of living in rural northern Illinois. That combination of factors means that the overwhelming majority of my riding starts and ends at my driveway. This is usually a wonderful thing, because it means that when the urge and opportunity present I can simply hop on my trike and go. And, to be clear, I have had that opportunity on a handful of days this year:

Riding in the snow

Three tracks are better than one. Or none.

Aside from those few opportunities, what January 2021 has decided to offer up so far is mostly day after day of high winds, low visibility, and - today - freezing rain.

What each of these factors represent for road riding is not necessarily an impediment to cycling in and of itself. Wind, for example, mostly just adds to the exercise gain, the calorie burn of the ride. But all of them put the road cyclist at a much larger than usual disadvantage with motor vehicle traffic.

Above a given threshold - say about 25 mph - persistent wind makes it essentially impossible to hear vehicles when they approach from behind. Yes, I do have mirrors, and check them regularly, but I also rely on being able to hear vehicles approaching in the intervals between glances at those mirrors.

Drifting snow - facilitated by that self-same wind - significantly reduces visibility, making it harder for me to see those vehicles and, perhaps more importantly, harder for them to see me. Drifting like that will occur at slightly lower wind speeds, which means a somewhat calmer day - with, say, 18-20 mph winds - may still result in drifting and poor visibility.

Now today we have those high winds - though they are a little below that 25 mph threshold - but despite the fact that we have a fairly substantial snow cover, there isn’t really any drifting. The sun is shining and, looking out the window, I can see for miles across the prairie. And so you might think, as I initially do: perfect - let’s get geared up for a ride!

But the reason nothing is drifting is because all of that snow - and the roads I’d be riding on - are covered in a sheet of ice from overnight rains. This means any approaching vehicle from either direction is going to be struggling with traction. Not a good situation for sharing the road with 2-4000 pound compatriots.

So for the moment I’m stuck at home, looking out the window and feeling sorry for myself. But I’ve put out feelers to both of the canal sites in the region - the I&M Canal Trail and the Hennepin Canal Trail - to see if I can get some idea of what the condition of the trails are. I’m not certain yet whether it would be safe to try to get to them - icy roads may prevent that - but it would be good to have an alternative for when the weather simply will not cooperate.

Feeling Shiftless

It started on my Black Friday ride. I was rolling down the street to the trailhead, picking up a bit of speed, so I shifted up. And… nothing.

Feet spinning on the pedals just as quickly as they were a moment before, no additional effort, no additional speed. I clicked forward another notch and was rewarded with exactly the same I amount of nothing for my attempt.

When I reached the trailhead I stepped up off the trike, lifted the rear wheel off the ground a bit, and cycled thru the gears. Or, perhaps I should say, I attempted to cycle thru them. With each click the rear derailleur simply refused to move, as if to say “you know, it’s a national holiday - I want the day off”.

I was having this conversation with my derailleur - which speaks, of course, in a French accent, and periodically injects expressions like “mon dieu!” and “omelette du fromage” into the conversation - on the Ridgeway entry point to the Military Ridge Trail in Southwestern Wisconsin. After a year off due to the pandemic, we had returned to our tradition of gathering at my sister-in-law’s for the holiday. That tradition, for the past few years, has included bringing along my trike to ride this particular trail.

Looking more closely at what was going on, I could see that the shifter cable was not moving with the lever - it was, in fact, unseating and remaining behind when I moved it forward, sticking out the back side of the lever. And I was stuck on the lowest gear.

I looked back over the drive up to Ridgeway - a two and a quarter hour drive northwards from our Homestead - and remembered that, for much of it, we were driving thru varying levels of fine snowfall. For this trip, the trike had traveled on the roof of the Outback, the inside of what is usually the mobile trike garage being selfishly taken up by my wife and child and our personal paraphernalia (they are obstinately unwilling to ride on the roof).

Now, the trike has been snowed on while on the roof before - most notably on our last holiday trip up to Ridgeway in 2019. But in that case, it was overnight, while the trike was stationary, and it was a real snowfall - actual flakes, not the fine, misty-ish stuff we were encountering on the ride up this time. So, it seemed that the combination of the snow type, and the fact that we were driving thru it, conspired to drive moisture into the shifter line and freeze it up.

Having limited resources in the moment to do anything about it, I played with the front shifter and found that I could, in fact, move between the three front rings. So I resolved to proceed with a much more limited gear set - initially three, well spaced gears, but I also found that if I massaged the exposed portion of the rear shifter cable a bit at the lever I could sometimes get a single gear change out of it. So technically I was riding an occasional six-speed trike.

Military Ridge is a slow trail anyway - the surface is nominally crushed limestone, but one has to use one’s imagination to see where or when that limestone might have been placed. Sand is mostly the order of the day on this trail, solidified a bit by the freezing temperatures, but still very soft. Given that, lower gears are where I would have been in any case, so I decided to ride on.

I managed to make it from Ridgeway to the Blue Mound State Park entrance with this approach - a little over 9 miles in one direction, and of course I had to ride back. In fact, I had my highest average trike speed ever on this trail despite the gearing handicap. This owed to below-freezing temperatures hardening up the trail - on my previous adventures it was above that line on the thermometer, softening the trail and impacting progress. And it was those temperatures, and not the gearing issue, that actually got me to turn around at Blue Mound. I’d packed my cold weather gear based on my prior experiences here, and as a result my hands and feet were getting uncomfortably chilly.

When I got home I put the trike into the mobile trike garage and let the car run a little while to warm it up, and then stored both in the garage. Ahead of my next ride I got it out and ran thru the gears to test this, and it all shifted just fine. I figured the problem was resolved, and sure enough everything was fine for the next three rides.

Then, on ride four, the problem showed back up. As I tooled out of my driveway I shifted up and - you guessed it - nothing.

And looking back at those three prior rides, the ones that had assured me all was well? All of them were above freezing (seriously: 55° (F) in December in Northern Illinois? - I’m not complaining, but it is weird).

I popped on to the Winter Cycling group on Facebook, figuring that if any group of people would have encountered this issue, this would be it. Indeed, my request resulted in a number of suggestions, ranging from warming it up to using WD-40 to replacing the cable and housing to one gentleman’s tongue-in-cheek suggestion that I switch to wireless shifters.

I’d already tried warming it up, of course (which I did not mention in the post), and any glance through the maintenance-related posts herein will demonstrate that I’m always going to err towards the fix that gets me back on the road the quickest. And I always have WD-40 in the garage, so…

Thing is, it worked! I’ve had one below-freezing ride since (it’s still a weird December, and we are almost two-thirds of the way thru), and had access to all of my gears. I will probably eventually replace the cable - either take a shot at it myself or have the LBS do it at the next tune-up. But that’s a ways out yet. In the interim, I may consider bringing the can of WD-40 along with me for rides in case the problem recurs.

Taking the Temperature of the Moment

We’ve reached that time of year here in Northern Illinois where late autumn just cannot decide whether it wants to hang on and work through the end of the season, or give it up and cede to winter already. As such, high temps are ranging between the low 20’s to the mid 50’s (F) from one day to the next. For cycling, this can make it especially challenging to determine what to wear for a given ride.

Once you get into the heart of winter here you know that, for the most part, it’s just going to be cold. This allows you to get into an easy pattern of dressing in more or less the same multi-layered approach from one ride to the next. But when one day is 55° and on your next ride it’s 23°, that just isn’t the case. In these cases, it’s not just about knowing what to wear, but more about knowing which level of it to wear today.

Inevitably, for me, this leads to miscalculations. Mostly this involves the extremities, as one might expect. I can generally keep my core warm enough (though too warm is a definite possibility), but I will find myself realizing, in the middle of a ride, as I begin to feel that characteristic spreading, borderline painful chill in my digits, that I’ve chosen the wrong gloves or shoes for the temperature.

For my hands this is an easy enough fix. Gloves are a lightweight, low volume item, so it’s easy enough to pack along different weights of hand protection in the pannier bags. Often I will simply start out with more than I need - I like to put mittens over insulated gloves, for example, and if I reach the point where my hands get too warm (and yes, that does happen) I can simply pull off the mittens and tuck them into the front of my jacket. This location is handy also because sometimes that changes. Out here on the prairie one might find that one’s hands are too warm when one is riding with the wind, but that they cool right back down when the wind is striking from the side or head-on. Then I can pull the mittens back out of the jacket and slip them back on.

It’s the feet where things get more challenging. In part, this is because I resist the transition to heavier shoes. I’m a sandal person for nearly 3/4 of the year. I break the Keens out in March, and try to keep them in service into November if at all possible. To do this requires committing the fashion crime of wearing socks with the sandals, of course, but enforcement of that particular ordinance is relatively low in my jurisdiction, so it’s worth the risk.

---

Enjoying this post? Check out our Cycling page for links to other cycling articles on Applied Life

---

Even with my hot feet and wool socks, sandals stop being comfortable on the trike somewhere a little south of 60°. At that point I move to hiking boots (these are also my regular daily footwear through the late fall and winter) with varying levels of wool sock. If the sandals are Level 1 for foot gear, I suppose the hiking boots would be Level 2. And that Level 2 covers that space between, say 55° and ~30-35° pretty nicely.

It’s the transition between Level 2 and Level 3 where I really begin to struggle. Level 3, for me, is a set of heavy winter boots. These are an affair with a leather upper, rubber lower, lined in wool felt. They are everything you need in a winter boot. All that said, it is somewhat challenging to get myself to want to move from the hiking boots into the these items, particularly early in the season, when I am mostly not wearing them at any other time. They are heavy and require adjustments to the sizing on my foot retention system (this can result in an extra 1-2 minutes of setup time before I ride - excruciating!). This means that, on a 25° day I find myself looking over at them and debating putting them on, before then putting a second layer of socks on and just wearing the hiking boots anyway.

Ultimately what this means is that I then find myself halfway through a ride realizing, as the spreading chill once again emerges, I should have worn the heavier boots. But unlike the mittens, the boots won’t fit easily into the panniers. And then an idea occurred to me:

Strapped on

This was my solution for the past couple of rides where the temperatures dipped below that 35° mark. While they won’t fit in the bag, they can be strapped to the top of the rack. It’s not nearly as quick and efficient as pulling the mittens on and off, but I have them with me if I need them. And from an exercise standpoint this is good too, because the boots add approximately 50 lbs* to the weight of the trike.

But this is an interim solution. I realized, as I was working through this, that part of the difficulty is that I while I’ve sorted out cold weather gear in general, I don’t really have a clear idea of specifically when to move from one level to the next. I think that I get to the point, towards the end of the winter, where I’ve just got it down, but in the long months between, say March and December, I forget, and have to learn it all over again.

So - over the last few rides I have started to collect data on what I’m wearing on my extremities, and how they work. I had considered putting together a spreadsheet for this (I do love a good spreadsheet), but for the moment I’ve just been keeping it in the notes section for the ride on Cyclemeter. This is handy because the subscription version of Cyclemeter also keeps track of weather information for the ride - temperature, humidity, wind speed, and level of sun (e.g. partly cloudy, etc). And, conveniently enough, you can export that information - including the weather data, separated out each into its own cell - into a spreadsheet. This should help me not have to relearn this over and over again each winter.

I think I am also going to consider using chemical warmers with the hiking boots. These are always an available part of my kit, and I keep extras in the panniers throughout the winter riding season in case of emergency, but I don’t usually break them out until it gets cold enough that the winter boots aren’t enough by themselves. It might be that I can extend Level 2 - maybe we could call it a Level 2.5 of sorts - further into the season with a bit of help.

*This may be a slight exaggeration.

Finishing February

There is just something about February.

Even though I am, and have been, a routine winter rider, over the past few years February has routinely turned up as my least active month for riding. It is tempting to blame this on the fact that it’s the shortest month, but let’s be honest - those two or three missing days aren’t the issue. It’s not like I was planning going to go out and ride the last couple of days in the month, only to suddenly discover that they weren’t there...

I think, ultimately, I have to blame the weather. Winter cycling aside, in northern Illinois, (and I think this is true for the upper Midwest in general) February is simply the least cooperative in terms of cycling friendly weather. Looking back across the calendar over the past three years or so it’s the month typically with the lowest number of rides, as well as the lowest distance. Lower distances make sense - my rides are typically shorter in the winter, as I try to make loops that keep me closer to home in case I need to call for help. But the smaller number of rides are the things that point to the weather.

As I discussed a couple of weeks ago, poor visibility conditions and freezing rain (and lightening, but that’s not much of a problem in the winter) are about the only things that will keep me off the trike. When I look back through the calendar, my usual ride days in February are missing ride events. Sometimes there are things to explain it - I missed a Sunday this February because we were traveling down to Florida, for example - but often the ride that should be there just isn’t. And that suggests something prevented me from getting out, which suggests weather.

Fortunately, if I isolate February from other months, and just compare them, it looks like the pattern is improving. The graph below shows my mileage for the past four Februaries - 2017 thru 2020:

I rode once in February 2017, three times in February of 2018, and six in both 2019 and 2020. In fairness to 2018, I also went cross country skiing on two occasions, so I did have five outings for the month. And even though the number of outings is the same for 2019 and 2020, the distance has increased.

The big change from 2017 to 2018 was the acquisition of the Catrike Pocket. I had been thinking about getting a mountain bike to better handle both gravel and snow, when it occurred to me that a trike would also be good at those surfaces (or at least much better than my Cannondale road bike), and that I’d wanted one for a very long time. And I did discover, after my two outings on the skis in 2018, that I preferred winter riding over skiing - at least on the type of snow that northern Illinois has been offering over the past several years. Those two outings in February 2018 are the last time I’ve done XC Skiing.

Admittedly, some of this is not new information - there are certainly other examples here of me discovering that: you know what? I like riding trikes! But when I look at that comparatively low number for February and start to feel a little down on myself, I find it helpful to step back and look at the bigger picture. In this case, that picture is: Yeah, February sucks, but at least it’s sucking less than it used to...

And, of course, now it’s Not February (also known as "March"), so it’s about time to go out and ride...

Which Conditions?

When the topic of winter cycling is broached on a social media group, one of the more common questions is about which conditions keep the winter rider at home.

This is one of mine:

In case it doesn’t read clearly in the picture, what I’m trying to show here is rain.

In February. In Northern Illinois.

I don’t really love riding in the rain, even in summer, but February rain means freezing rain.

It’s a general understanding for people who are active outside year-round that there is no bad weather, only bad clothing. This is a testament I generally adhere to, and certainly it’s possible to dress against freezing rain.

But one cannot dress against road conditions, nor against visibility. And in terms of the latter, I’m not concerned about my own, but about that of the motor vehicle operators on the road. It’s better to be able to be seen, and to not be in conditions where the large metal objects struggle to arrest their speed.

And so today, on the couch I remain...

Patience has its Rewards

So last week I was struggling with anticipation as I waited to ride until the plows had made their journey through the countryside. But the moment did finally arrive.

By way of context, this was my driveway that morning:

I’d like to claim that I put those tractor tracks in the snow, but that was my cousin, who graciously comes up and plows us out when we are hemmed in. And prior to the plows going through, this is similar to what the roads in the area looked like. Now, I’m not afraid of riding in a little snow, but I don’t have a fat bike or trike, and more importantly, there was a lot of material on the road - I didn’t want a plow depositing a load of the white stuff on me as it passed me by.

The waiting worked out tho - this is what the roads looked like as I ventured forth:

And this is the thing about winter road riding. I am sometimes quite certain that people think you are (or more specifically, that I am) insane for going out. But what you see in that picture - which is a secondary, rural road - is what I encounter the majority of the time.

This is a point that Tom Babin touches on in Frostbike. People often think about winter as being 3-4 months of punishingly cold weather, but the reality is that, like the rest of the year, it’s usually mild temperatures punctuated by brief extremes. Most winters here in northern Illinois we do see temps in the negative double-digits (F), but that’s usually brief - maybe a few days. It’s possible to dress for the extremes, but even if you stayed in for the very cold days, the rest of the winter is quite manageable.

There are those who prefer to stay in and ride on trainers when it’s cold, and I intend no shade towards them - people should get to like what they like. But if you’ve ever wondered whether you just might be able to manage it out in the winter climate, I’d recommend going for it. It’s not an arctic expedition - you’ll find an abundance of days that are quite amenable.

Speaking of which: time to ride...

Anticipation

Almost every Sunday morning after I wake up and - let’s be honest - after I have my first cup of coffee, I start thinking about where and when I will ride. And while I experience that virtually every week, this Sunday, in particular, the feeling is especially acute.

There is a combination of factors contributing. First is that I made the conscious decision to forgo a ride last Sunday in favor of getting a couple of projects finished. These were things that definitely needed attention, and Sunday is also my day for projects. Usually I prioritize riding and do what I can for projects afterward, but occasionally things have to go the other way around if a thing is going to get done. But this means that I’m a ride short in my mental tally now.

The other factor is that we have snow.

We’ve had dustings and such this season, but the snowfall over the past few days is the first that we’ve seen in earnest, offering an actual ground cover. I’m very much looking forward to being out and about in it.

But there is also a problem: we have snow.

---

Enjoying this post? Check out our Cycling page for links to other cycling articles on Applied Life

---

The snowfall was continual over the past couple of days - slow, but persistent. But the temperatures during the day were hovering around the mid-low 30°’s (F), slightly above freezing for much of the day each day. This appears to have led the road crews out in our rural area to bide their time before getting out and running the plows on the backroads - to wait and see how much will melt away before committing township resources to removal. As a taxpayer and owner of vehicles with all-wheel drive and snow tires I can appreciate that.

For the next several days, however, high temps are forecast to stay below freezing, which means the plow trucks will be out. Which means I need to wait a bit.

To be clear, I am not afraid of riding through a little snow. This is a thing I’ve been doing for a while now - it’s all part of the fun. But I don’t want to be on the road on my trike when the plows go by. You’d be astonished at how much snow can actually land in the lap of a person on a recumbent trike. Or so I imagine...

So I’m sitting, waiting, listening and watching for evidence of snow removal vehicles. Over the years I seem to have developed the ability to detect and isolate the characteristic sound that a plow truck makes as it passes by the house. It’s a little like how my dogs can hear the kibble landing in the food bowl from anywhere in the yard.

Maybe one more cup of coffee, and then maybe they’ll pass by...

Frostbike - A Review

One could be forgiven for thinking that a book about cycling in the cold months of the year would have a very narrow field of interest. After all, it’s a pretty small group of people who even want to venture out to do anything in winter’s chill, much less spinning pedals on a decidedly weather-exposed machine. Indeed, for myself I first heard about Frostbike: The Joy, Pain, and Numbness of Winter Cycling by Tom Babin through the Winter Cycling group on Facebook. This is an excellent, and well moderated group, but it’s group that exists in part because a relatively small number of people share the interest. And, of course, those folks are nuts, right?

It turns out that this perspective is, in fact, a distinctly North American one. As Babin notes, here in the US and Canada...

What usually happens when winter rolls in is that the number of cyclists tumbles, and those who do it are seen as zealots or oddballs.

As the book makes clear, however, there are other parts of the world that do not share our way of thinking. Babin explicitly describes arriving at the airport in Oulu, Finland, and finding that the bike routes not only came directly to the front door of the airport, but they were being actively used. And he was there in February.

That’s right - Finland. in February.

But none of that was what I expected when I purchased Frostbike and downloaded to my Kindle last spring. I bought it last March, at the end of the winter riding season, purposely planning on holding off reading it until things got chilly here at the end of the year. I was anticipating a book about the author’s personal journey towards becoming a winter cyclist, and I figured that would help me with mentally gearing myself up for the next season. And the book does include that journey - I suspect Tom Babin’s beginnings with the world of cold-weather pedaling will be familiar to many winter cyclists. But Tom Babin is a journalist and cycling advocate from Calgary, and Frostbike extends well beyond his personal journey.

Frostbike explores the bigger picture of understanding where people have been historically with respect to cycling and winter, as well as literally journying to cities around the world to see how other cities - cities where there is actual, real winter - handle cycling.

It’s not too big a spoiler to say that they handle it well. Of Oulu, Finland, Babin writes:

I realized I had probably, in just a few minutes, seen more people riding in the snow than I ever had in my life.

From Finland he also travels to Copenhagen to keep his perspective from being too narrowly focused, and finds a similar picture. And when he asks people there why they ride in the winter the answer is both surprising and simple:

The reasons people ride bikes in the winter, he said, are the same reasons they ride bikes in the summer–doing so is quick and convenient. You just have to dress for it.

The book also takes time to investigate why we seem to have such a different perspective in North America from Northern Europe when it comes to winter cycling and, frankly, just winter in general. Where he arrives is illuminating, and for myself placed the finger finally on the nose of a phenomenon I’ve been trying to mentally sort out for years. I remember, as a kid, enjoying being outside in the winter weather, and having friends routinely joining me. I still enjoy it, but I no longer have company in those pursuits. He hits the nail on the head with his observations and conclusions in this area. I won’t give it away here, but I will offer this quote as a teaser:

For Canadians, and perhaps many North Americans, complaining about the weather has become second nature, our default way of relating to each other.

You will see the cycling advocate in this work as well. In particular, he does an able job of outlining whether, and why, cycling infrastructure should be supported and maintained in winter months, and it involves a hard look at whether there are other facilities that municipalities develop despite not having year-round applications...

Going in, it is good to be aware that the book is very much focused on learning about and developing winter cycling for urban settings. This should, perhaps, not be surprising - that’s where the bulk of cycling focus seems to be, where the majority of people are to be found, and arguably urban areas are where cycling has the most benefit to offer in terms of reducing congestion. There is some discussion about the development of fatbikes, and it was interesting to read the history in that area, but it’s ultimately in service of the author’s efforts to determine which type of bike will work best for his (urban) winter commute. I would have liked a little more about the broader world of winter riding. Still, my hope for more on the wider world of winter cycling was an expectation the author did not promise, and was not obligated to meet.

There is also a section at the end of the book, styled as an addendum, offering up tips for winter cycling. It’s brief, but practical, and will be helpful for new adventurers. I’m certain that the existing, died in the wool cool kids will have disagreements with the author’s recommendations, but then again, they don’t really need the tips either.

If you have an cyclist on your holiday shopping list, or if you are just interested yourself in looking into winter cycling around the world, Frostbike (I love the play on words with the title, and iOS autocorrect, incidentally, hates it) is an excellent read. It’s available in hard copy and Kindle through Amazon. (Regular readers will be aware that I usually listen to my books, but Audible doesn’t (yet) carry this particular tome).

Enjoy. Now it’s time to ride. In the cold...

Rural Bike - Part Two - my Candidate

So - a couple of weeks ago I laid out my thoughts on what the criteria were for identifying the ideal Human-Powered Vehicle (HPV) for rural life. If you are starting here, you may want to go back to that post. I will admit, tho, I got a little lost in childhood nostalgia and youth shaming, so if you are looking for the TL:DR on the criteria, they were:

• The machine must be capable of covering long distances - 10-20 mile round trips - comfortably on open secondary roads.
• It must be a human powered vehicle. It’s fine if it’s amenable to electric assist, but it cannot rely upon battery power.
• It must be able to contend with varied weather and road conditions. Generally this is going to mean:
  • Some type of effective fender system.
  • Being stable and functional with a load under high wind situations.
• Be capable of carrying cargo - the Bike Design Project specified their urban guidelines around a gym bag or a single bag of groceries, which makes sense for their purposes. For a rural lifestyle, a larger carrying capacity would be needed - I’d say the ability to manage 3-4 full paper grocery bags (or equivalent volume), with those groceries including at least one full gallon of milk. The machine should be able to manage that load on all rural road surfaces, including gravel, dirt, and hills.
• Be capable of remaining stable and upright under load. This criteria is borrowed from the Bike Design Project, but it makes intuitive sense to me. Your machine has to be able to stand safely on its own if you have to get off of it when it’s fully loaded. Otherwise you’ll break your eggs, have to chase your oranges down the road, and cry over your spilled milk...
• Must be capable of a reasonable average speed over flat(ish) terrain when operated by a rider who rides regularly. Here let’s say reasonable is an average of at least 10-12mph. I think any slower and it risks even dedicated riders avoiding use in favor of a car.
• Be a durable machine capable of many years of use with basic maintenance.
• Be capable of using aftermarket lighting and visibility systems for effective forward and rearward visibility.
• We are looking for a type of machine here, not a specific brand or new design. What sort(s) of HPV meets these criteria?

At the risk of offering up an early spoiler, I’ll freely admit here that my candidate for meeting these criteria will likely be unsurprising to regular readers:

The Recumbent Trike

"Oh, well of course," you say. "You see here, Martha, I told you last time that’s the way it was going to go. He set this whole damn thing up to justify his love for those gorram three wheeled contraptions."

"You did say so dear," Martha replies. "You did say so".

"Harrumph!" you say. "That’s it. It’s clear now: He’s in the pocket of big trike."

Ok - first, good on you for pulling out an actual "harrumph!" That’s a word that really doesn’t get its due nowadays, and deserves a comeback.

Secondly, I am not in the pocket of big trike. I’m not actually sure that such a thing exists, and if it does, I am quite noticeably not in their pocket. Noticeably so because I’d happily jump into the pocket of big trike and roll around in those lovely big trike dollars. Hello? Anyone out there in the great trike conglomerate listening... anyone...?

Ahem. Anyway, yes, my response is somewhat predictable, but let me defend myself. First, I want to clarify and add some detail and distinctions. I wrote "the recumbent trike" above, but what I really mean to say is:

A Recumbent Trike with a Trailer

There, see? It’s a lot different now. Right?

---

Enjoying this post? Check out our Cycling page for links to other cycling articles on Applied Life

---

The thing is, although it may seem somewhat like I’m leaning towards the thing I’ve already chosen, the reality is that rural transportation was a big part of what I had in mind when I chose to get a trike. As I mentioned last time, I grew up riding around the countryside, and when we moved back a decade or so ago I realized that, while I enjoyed riding my road bike around the area, there were a number of factors for which it was not ideal. This came into clearer and clearer focus particularly as I began to expand my riding "season" into a year round enterprise. You only have to have an upright bike disappear out from under you once or twice on a January morning before you realize that, although you rode all over the place as a kid, you only did it in the summer, and that you didn’t need much carrying capacity to bring home a half-dozen comic books.

Taking a look back in my journal verifies that this has been on my mind for quite a while. I wrote about the Evo and The Bike Design Project back in August of 2014. While that work was specifically for Applied Life, it really got me thinking about the rural bike question. Three of the four subsequent entries in my journal touch on this topic (yes, I also write about cycling for myself. It’s a thing, ok? I’m not proud...). On August 3rd of 2014 I wrote:

The demands for country and small town biking are certainly different than they are for urban settings... On first blush, frankly, I think something like a tadpole trike with a trailer would likely be ideal - essentially the pickup truck of the biking world.

And a week later, on the 13th, I wrote:

The more that I consider it, the more useful a trike and trailer seem to me for the type of transport need rural biking presents.

Why am I taking you down this trip thru my journal entries? Mostly because these were from 2014 - three years before I actually got a recumbent trike.

We moved out to our Homestead in the late spring of 2009. By summer 2014 I’d been riding as an adult out in the hinterlands for five years, and been thru my first year of winter riding. I’d had a fair amount of riding time on an upright across the open prairie to consider against for thinking thru what might work better out here. And of course, I’ve been testing that idea over the past two years or so.

So - all that said - here’s my rationale against the criteria to explain why I think a recumbent trike (with a trailer) is possibly the perfect rural HPV approach:

Long Distance in Comfort

I’ve been riding most of my life, and I’ve ridden a lot of different types of diamond frame bikes. I spent most of the decade prior to getting the Catrike Pocket riding a 1987 Cannondale SR400 - an aluminum road bike.

The furthest I ever rode the Cannondale in a single outing was just under 27 miles, and that just once. Otherwise rides were more typically in the 8-15 mile range, with occasional jaunts in the 18-22 mile territory. I started tracking mileage with Cyclemeter in 2011, and my best year with the Cannondale was 2014, where I managed 752.47 miles over 69 rides, with an average distance of 10.91 miles per ride.

My first year with the Pocket - 2017 - I rode 937.51 miles; 83 rides with an average distance of 11.30 miles per ride. To put that in perspective, I got the Pocket in early June - nearly halfway thru the year. 808.31 of those 937.51 miles - 86% - are on the Pocket. I rode further on the Pocket in its first seven months with me than I’d ridden for the entirety of 2014, my best year on the Cannondale.

I loved - and still love, at least in concept - the Cannondale. It’s a sleek and elegant machine; it’s lovely, lightweight, and fast. It’s also beastly uncomfortable, and has become progressively more so as I’ve gotten older. This includes both the creeping pain on the backside during the ride, and the tension across the back of the neck that would start on the bike and continue for the following day or two. That factor absolutely limited my riding time.

For a while I thought it was available ride time that was limiting me when I was on the Cannondale. Longer rides - 20-30 mile and further jaunts - can eat up a couple of hours on a precious weekend day and really cut into the time available for other things. But that limitation seems to have just dropped away with the recumbents. The Pocket is slower than the Cannondale, and yet I started to routinely ride further. I think to some degree I was kidding myself that the discomfort wasn’t an issue.

I’m certainly not the only person who has reached this conclusion. Matt Galat at Ja Yoe! writes and talks about comfort over time being a primary factor in his choice of a trike for his world tours.

I think sometimes we have a tendency to set aside comfort - when it comes to cycling we may feel like we should be willing to sacrifice that for the other benefits. But the reality is that when the activity is less comfortable it becomes less desirable, and as a result we tend to engage in it less. And the purpose for this thought experiment is to look at using the machine for at least semi-regular transportation in rural settings. Rural riding for transport means distances, and particularly choosing to cycle rather than to drive. Cars have a lot to offer here - choosing a less comfortable option to ride out of misguided principle is likely to result primarily in just choosing to drive.

Contending with the Weather

Rural riding often means contending with less than ideal weather conditions. Here I’m not talking about rain - we can probably all agree that, if it’s raining, the rural transportation cyclist is going to opt for their car. But the reality is that in much of the world, and especially in the US Midwest, rural means wind.

Drive through the rural midwestern countryside for any length of time and you will repeatedly come across stands of white turbines, pointed into the breeze, propellers spinning slowly, but inexorably. It’s a view I’m very familiar with - I can see it from every window in my house.

Though I have, believe it or not, had people ask me whether the turbines make it windy, the reality is that there’s a reason there’s so much focus on wind power out on the prairie and plains. It’s always been a little surprising to me that harvesting wind power didn’t start sooner out here. Of course, the impact from the cyclist’s perspective is that, as delightful as it is to have a 15 or 20 mph tailwind, it’s a bitch-kitty when you are riding into it headlong. If you are riding for purpose - to the store, say - the extra weight of your cargo and the oppositional press of the wind will seem to have a multiplying effect against your effort.

While the wind doesn’t go away when you are riding a recumbent trike, the lower profile of the machine does make a difference. What’s more, the stability of having three wheels under you means that there is no risk of falling over when the wind brings speed down to a crawl; and equally so, little to no risk of blowing over when dealing with an oppressive side wind. Dealing with the wind like this was a key factor in Maria Leijerstam’s choice of a trike for her successful ride to the South Pole, a ride in which she started after two competitors on upright bikes, and arrived ahead of them. She also cited the stability of the trike allowing her to successfully manage a shorter, but steeper route than the other record hopefuls - she didn’t have to worry about falling over.

Being in a lower profile to the wind is also just more comfortable most of the time, especially when it’s cold. I detailed my own experience with the difference between riding upright and recumbent in the cold and snow a while back. Getting down out of the wind, relatively speaking, makes for a warmer - or at least less cold - ride in chilly times.

Stability

That reference to snow brings up the other important advantage - stability regardless of conditions. While it’s not for everyone, there are absolutely people who ride year round. When the ground gets slippery - whether due to rain or snow or dirt or gravel - three wheels are going to be more likely to stay under you than will two. I’ve ridden both upright and recumbent in the snow, and read the accounts of many other like-minded souls. There is virtually no one who rides on two wheels in the white stuff who hasn’t had the experience of a bike just... disappearing out from under them. For just a moment you are like Wile E. Coyote, right after he’s run off the cliff - you hang there in mid air.

...And then: pain.

Fat bikes and winter tires make that better, but they don’t eliminate the issue of falling the way that third wheel does. I’m not saying it’s not possible to wipe out on a trike - I have it on good authority that it can be done. You know, from... other people. But it’s still more stable.

Carrying that Load

The relative stability makes a difference here as well when conditions - weather or hills or weight - cause the going to be slow. On an upright machine, when the speed drops below a given speed it becomes harder and harder to keep the bike vertical. Maintaining balance is a non-issue on a trike. This can become vital when hauling things - remember, our criteria is to be able to carry four full paper bags worth of groceries, including at least one gallon of milk. The jug of cow juice is eight and a half pounds all by itself, and a paper grocery bag can supposedly hold up to 25 pounds, so those four bags could conceivably come out somewhere near 100lbs of groceries.

I don’t think for a second anyone is actually going to fill those bags up to a full Benjamin, but the reality is that the weight, particularly when combined with hills, wind, or both, will potentially slow things down considerably. The tripod position, combined with the very low gearing most trikes have on the bottom end, can make the distance between continuing to pedal up the rise or falling over (or having to get off and walk it).

I had a little experience with this without the use of a trailer earlier this year, hauling an empty LP canister into town and bringing back the full exchange. A full canister comes in around 34 or 35lbs, and my trike managed it well. I’m not saying I couldn’t have done it on an upright bike, but I suspect it would have been considerably more challenging.

Speed

I set a minimum speed criteria for this thought experiment because I think its a relevant detail - if the trip to and from the destination is too slow, I think folks are going to go for motorized options. Trikes aren’t the speediest form of HPV available, to be sure, but I am certain there are models that can meet the 10-12 mph average I set here - when I hauled that LP canister back and forth with my Expedition I had my slowest time ever on that route, but my average speed still came in over 13mph. Would an upright cargo bike be faster? Maybe, but I think there’d be some question about that when dealing with a full load.

But there are limits. Just as there are trikes, there are quads out there, and they would also have many of the advantages of a trike - stability and comfort, for example. But I suspect the additional weight would risk bringing such a machine in below the speed criteria.

The Other Stuff

The first four points - comfort, weather management, stability, and ability to manage load - are ultimately the reasons I look at recumbent trikes as being the ideal candidate for rural human-powered transport. It is also important that the machine chosen be something that is durable and can be expected to last many years with basic, and the trikes that I own and have looked at seem to fit this bill. They are more complicated than a standard diamond frame bike, to be sure, and there are areas you need to attend to when owning and riding them. These are not significantly more complicated than with an upright machine, however, and well worth the trade off in capabilities.

The one primary difference out in rural areas - and admittedly a potential limitation - is that if you have a local bike shop, odds are that they have limited experience with trikes. You will want to learn a thing or two about bike maintenance under those circumstances. However, I suspect this is ultimately a reality of rural cycling in general. My "localest" bike shop is twenty miles away. The folks there are great, but it’s an hour round trip to have them work on my machine. I’d imagine a lot of other folks in rural settings are in a similar situation.

In terms of lighting and such, most trikes provide an abundant number of locations for placing such equipment and can be made to work with standard bike items with little to no effort. The wider frame, particularly in the back, arguably provides a more visible profile to attach lighting to, and provides the option a more varied lighting pattern for motorists to see.

Rearward vision is different on a trike. You have to have mirrors to see behind you - you cannot just look back and easily get a gauge on what’s behind you. However, for rural riding on an upright I’d argue that you really need to have mirrors as well. Looking back is uncomfortable even when you are up in the wind, and I found I felt much more aware of my surroundings once I put a mirror on my road bike back in the day. This is doubly the case for the trike.

Disadvantages

There are a couple of potential disadvantages to using a trike for rural transport, though I think they are limited. Probably the biggest thing is that they are more challenging to move around and park. They are sometimes heavier, and always bulkier than an upright bike, so it’s harder to simply pick one up and move it around. They take up more ground space, so they don’t easily just plug into a standard bike rack and you can’t just lean them up against a building or post. It takes some creativity to figure out how to securely lock them to things.

These same factors do affect storage, and while many rural folks have a fair amount of space to keep things, those who do not will have to be more creative in that respect.

However, none of these things are insurmountable, and I don’t think they take away from the overall advantage of the platform.

Summing Up

So there you have it - my candidate for the ideal type of rural human powered vehicle, or, more colloquially, rural bike. As I’ve said, I’m certain regular readers will not be surprised where I fall on this, but the reality is that rural riding is a large part of why I got a trike in the first place (the rest of it was because I thought they were really cool).

Others, I’m certain, have other ideas for what works best and/or their own thoughts about why I am wrong here. There are certainly other styles of cargo bikes out there, often with a rakish, military-look to them that can certainly be attractive. But this one is my choice, and one that I’m finding works well for my version of rural transportation.

Ok - time to ride...

Winter Cycling Unpreparedness

The introduction of November has been pretty chilly for us here in Northern Illinois. Over the first weekend of the month I was riding with snow accompanying me along the sides of the road:

The irony is that, looking at the weather conditions that accompany that ride on Cyclemeter, it was about 51° while I was out and about. The snow, in the relative protection of the ditch, hadn’t quite gotten the message.

But the reality is that most of our days over the first third of the 11th month have been in the unusually cold category. This doesn’t stop the cycling, of course, but it does mean some changes have to be made in terms of gearing up for the rides.

And there lies the struggle.

Now begins the time when I realize that I may not be fully aware as to the location in which I stored all of my cold weather riding gear. I mean, I’m certain that at the end of the last use I put them in a perfectly logical location to make them easy to find the following season. Unfortunately, November Erin is not in the same mindset as April Erin, and I think that guy might have been a bit squirrelly anyway...

---

Enjoying this post? Check out our Cycling page for links to other cycling articles on Applied Life

---

So then comes the internal discussion: did you put your balaclava and gloves in with the rest of the family gloves and hats? That would make sense, right?

But one pile of hats and gloves on the floor later, and they are nowhere to be found.

"Perhaps" you say, "perhaps you left them in a pocket or a sleeve of your winter coats or vests". And then you nod knowingly: "perhaps April Erin didn’t put them away at all". Because that guy can sometimes be a bit of a slacker.

And this can be kind of interesting because you then realize that you have cool and cold weather items that you had forgotten about in the intervening months:

"Yup - gotta break out that light leather jacket while it’s still in the reasonable temperature range".;

And:

"Oh - I forgot about that down vest." And then gaze admiringly at the color.

(Yes, it’s orange - specifically burnt orange. No points for guessing that one).

All of this to finally think "is it possible I just put them on the closet shelf with my other cycling gear? Could it be that simple?"

Yes, dumbass, it’s that simple. Heaven only knows why that wouldn't have been the first place you’d look, but now at least you have a mental inventory of all of the rest of the winter gear for the house. Because you needed one of those. For some reason...

The struggle continues, a bit, with what to wear when. It’s a tenet of cold weather riding that you want to be layered and, if possible, vented, so that you can open things up and/or remove them as you get warmer. But there are areas where that’s harder - particularly your feet. And so I’ve had one outing over the past few days where I decided to go with wool socks and sandals - committing a fashion crime to split the difference on foot warmth. As to my level of success, well, I’ll report back when I can feel my feet again.

All kidding aside, once it’s all out and I start using it regularly, there really won’t be any difficult with it. But fall in the midwestern US is an ongoing struggle where what was appropriate clothing this morning is too much by afternoon and simply inadequate by night. That effect is amplified when riding.

But, regardless, now that I’ve finally found my stuff (dumbass), it’s time to ride...

An Experiment Ends

When I ordered my Catrike Expedition this summer I decided to give clipless pedals and shoes a try. Although I’ve been cycling off and on for most of my life, I’d never used them. I have a personal resistance to specialized cycling gear (clothing, specifically) in general, as I’ve discussed here a time or two before. Still, you really cannot judge a thing until you’ve tried it, so I ordered up some Shimano SPD sandals and decided to give it a go.

This weekend finds the end of that experiment, at least for now.

I ordered a second Terratrike Comfort Pedal Conversion Kit for the Expedition (I already have them on on my Pocket) a few weeks ago in anticipation of the change in season.

I ride year round and, although my feet absolutely run hot, I knew there would be a time in the not-too-distant future where even committing the fashion crime of wearing socks with the sandals would not be enough. Part of that personal resistance to specialized gear is that, were I to continue to use the SPD side of the pedals, I’d need to buy at least one, and probably two additional pair of cycling shoes to get through late autumn and the winter. That can get spendy in a hurry and, frankly, I’m somewhat skeptical that I’d be able to find winter cycling boots that would be sufficiently warm for riding on the open prairie.

I’m also finding that I’m getting knee and ankle pain with the SPD setup, which is not an issue I’ve ever had before. I’ve tried some adjustments in the length of the boom to alleviate this, but without success. I suspect that the static position of the foot is part of the issue there for me. We’ll see if that resolves with the switch back.

I’ve found that, for whatever reason, every time I’ve looked for the heel slings on the TerraTrike site they are out of stock. When I purchased them for the Pocket I got them from Bicycle Man, and went to do so this time, but they also did not have them in stock (they are in stock there as of today, however, if you are looking). So I looked and was somewhat surprised to find that they are also available on Amazon.

I described in detail the process of installing them on the standard Catrike pedals back when I put them on the Pocket. The biggest part of it is realizing that you will not be able to use the little backing plate that comes with them - it does not fit on the Catrike pedals. You can get nuts to replace that plate however, and then it works fine. Being aware of that this time made putting them on a lot faster (and a lot less frustrating). I also sorted out a way to do it without removing and leaving off the inside Allen screw on the pedals. I was able to block off the nuts sufficiently with a screwdriver blade to hold them still while I tightened them.

---

Enjoying this post? Check out our Cycling page for links to other cycling articles on Applied Life

---

The TerraTrike heel slings are designed to be used alone, but I push and pull on pedals when I ride, and the design doesn’t support that. On the Pocket I used inexpensive Velcro tie wraps, and I’ve found them to work quite nicely for that purpose. This was my plan this time as well (the Velcro tie wraps come in big spools - I’ve got a lot of them), but when I was looking up the slings on Amazon, one of the related products was a basic toe clip - the Evo Double Quick Strapless Toe Clip (I’m not sure what quality is supposed to make it "double quick"...). They were less then $10 bucks for the pair, so I figured they were worth a try.

The reviews for the toe clips on Amazon suggest that some people struggled to install them on their pedals for different reasons - sizing of the clips, or length of the hardware. I did not find any of those difficulties applied for the Catrike pedals. In fact, the only challenge was the same one you get with the heel slings - the otherwise very cool double-sided pedals give you a tiny space to work in when it comes to putting nuts on to bolts inside the pedal space.

My trick for this included a couple of things:

• I put the heel slings on first, which meant that the weight of them kept the pedal upright while putting on the toe clips. I’d like to say that I made this choice because I am a brilliant strategist, but it was just simple serendipity. But being upright held the pedal in the perfect position for installing these.
• I put the nut in the box end of a hand wrench, which was small enough to hold it in position while I got the screw started. I say held in position - I didn’t turn with the wrench - there’s not enough space for that. And only to get it started - if you screw it all the way in you won’t be able to pull the wrench out.
• I did the same trick with the screwdriver blade inserted between the nut and the side of the pedal to hold the nut still while I screwed it in the rest of the way. I really wish this had occurred to me back when I was working on the pedals for the Pocket...

The end result is here:

The design is a little less elegant, perhaps, than using clipless pedals and shoes, but now I have a foot retention setup that will work with just about any pair of kicks. They are easier to get the foot into than the setup using the Velcro cross straps because I can rotate my foot into the clips sideways. The cross straps require you to reach forward and put them on by hand. An initial test ride - about a quarter mile down the road and back - suggested they work more or less like you’d expect, including supporting pulling back on the pedals in addition to pushing.

I was a little concerned that the clips might not allow enough room in the toe area for my big winter boots, but that was a question easily tested:

The clips stretch a bit with the boot in them, but the give allows them to fit. Probably the only remaining question will be whether that give still works when it is very cold out - plastic can get brittle in winter. I always have a spool of the Velcro tie wraps in the pannier bags on the trike (they are useful for so many things!), so I’ll have a backup if they break.

I’ll be trying this setup out over the next several weeks to see how I like them, with the maiden voyage likely to occur a little later today. Details to come in the future.

Now it’s time to ride...

Terracycle Adjustomatic Bottle Mount

It goes without saying that the design and layout of a recumbent trike is different than that of a traditional diamond frame, or DF, bicycle. Many of those differences are exactly what the Tri-cyclist is looking for - different (I’d say better) seating arrangement, reclined position, lower profile to the wind, no need for a kickstand - and the list goes on.

However, while it does seem that recumbent trikes are gaining in popularity the reality is that DF bikes are still by far the majority. This means that while the cycling accessories world - which is massive, to be sure - predominantly develops its products for DF bikes, and that’s what we have to work with. Often this can be ok, but at other times it involves compromises. One of the more glaring examples of this that one encounters early on in the trike experience is the water bottle cage.

The cage in repose

The boom is an obvious location for the water bottle cage - it’s easily accessible, it’s visible, and it’s wide enough for the mounting point. But (you knew there’d be a "but", right?) it lays the water bottle down at something like a 5° angle - not perfectly flat, but close enough to it that a full water bottle with a drinkable spout is inevitably going to leak.

---

Enjoying this post? Check out our Cycling page for links to other cycling articles on Applied Life

---

This isn’t really a problem on most DF bikes, where the cage is put inside the frame either on the upright seat post portion, or on the forward front bar, which is at an angle, yes, but far more acute and thus less prone to bottle weep (and really, as we look forward, could we make the term "bottle weep" a thing - I think if we try it could really catch on...).

That angled position also means that the bottle cage is not suited for carrying other types of containers at all. For myself - though it may seem sacrilegious - an early-ish morning ride is made much better when accompanied by the presence of a nice cup of coffee. But if there is a travel mug out there that won’t leak precious brown liquid when laid at a 5° angle, I haven’t found it. And once you add cream and sugar to your beverage you have A) a delightful beverage, yes, but 2) something you really don’t want drizzling all over your machine.

I cannot recall whether I’d first seen the Terracycle Adjustomatic Bottle Mount on the the Terracycle website, or in a Facebook group (Facebook overall is kind of a dumpster fire, but the groups - especially when well moderated - are a relative shining light), but I know that I’ve seen pictures of trikes using this product. At $45 it certainly isn’t as inexpensive as just laying your bottle down at an angle, so I’d put off purchasing one for quite a while. Still, as I rolled toward the Farmondo this year, presenting (for me) an extended distance ride, it seemed a more justifiable purchase because it also allows for mounting two bottles or containers instead of just one.

The product itself is CNC machined, black anodized aluminum, and it looks just as good and sturdy as that description would suggest. It literally bolts right on to the bottle holder mounting point on the boom with little to no difficulty. All the bolts needed come with it, so you just have to supply the 3mm Allen wrench. There are multiple mounting holes on both sides for the cages, so you can choose the height that works best for you. The hardest part - and it isn’t very hard - is setting and deciding upon the right angle for mounting it. It has three preset points, or you can simply choose any angle you like. You can order it with bottle cages from Terracycle, or simply use your own. I’d purchased a pair of black plastic cages from Amazon back when I’d ordered my Expedition, so I used those.

You do want to be sure that you get the set screw for the angled portion set tightly - I was apparently too gentle the first time out and it came loose and started to lean. I’ve since tightened it and have had no further difficulty.

It works exactly as designed. I installed mine a few days ahead of the group ride, in early September, and have been out several times with it since. It holds my Kleen Canteen in an upright position so as to minimize issues from the aforementioned bottle weep, and does, in fact, do a fine job of carrying a travel mug. It rained for almost the entirety of the Farmondo this year - a low-level, but persistent drizzle - and it was comforting to have hot coffee at hand to warm things up a bit. It will be a nice addition to my winter riding as well.

I have clipped it - or rather the cage attached to it - a few times with my foot while getting on the trike. Because of the way it sits and where, I have to take more care when stepping into position to sit down. This has not been a hard adjustment to make.

As I noted above, the device does have multiple holes on each side, and the Terracycle site suggests that other things could be mounted to them - they note that they might be offering a computer mounting stub that would fit (though there is no link, and I don’t quickly find such an accessory on the site). I can easily see the more creative folks out there finding multiple additional uses for what device. For my part, it does what it is designed to do quite nicely.

I am slightly fond of orange…

Site Addition - Cycling Page

I have been writing and posting on this site since May of 2010. Applied Life is something more or less of a traditional "blog" site, by which I mean that I write about the things that interest me here. The initial focus - and the tag line - for the site was Science and Technology in Everyday Life. Hence the name.

The very first post on the site was my review of the original iPad back in 2010 (TL:DR version - I liked it). And much of those early years reflected that type of topic, with occasional excursions into things like TV shows or books, or music that I like and music that I don’t.

But more recently the site has become much more focused on cycling in various aspects. I’ve been a cyclist off and on for most of my life - when I was a kid it was our primary mode of transportation, and as an adult it’s one of my two favorite forms of exercise (the other is martial arts). Given that, it’s probably not surprising that cycling has been a part of this site since early on. My earliest cycling focused post appeared in December of 2013 and it was about winter cycling. But the topic of cycling was an occasional one until I got my Catrike Pocket.

That machine has caused considerable changes both to what I do and what I write about. I’m cycling more - more time and further distances - than ever before, and it definitely affects the things that are on my mind, which is, ultimately, where the material on this site comes from. In my head I sometimes muse over changing the name of the site to Applied Trike...

I’m probably not going to do that, but the volume of cycling material does mean that it seemed to me like it might be getting more challenging to find some specific things on the site. As such, I put together a separate page with some links to a series of specific articles that might represent topic areas people are looking for.

The page is just called "Cycling", and depending upon how you are coming to the site - e.g. via desktop/laptop or mobile device it will appear in a couple of different ways.

On the desktop you will see a menu of words across the top right hand corner of the site, one of which is "Cycling":

On your mobile device - and my analytics say that’s how most people find their way here - that menu is in the hamburger button (the three little lines that denote a menu) in the upper right:

Clicking that will get you the list of additional pages:

Choosing ”Cycling" will take you to the Cycling Resources page:

What you will find there is a list of selected articles under specific topic areas related to cycling, including (to start with):

• Trail Reviews
• Life With Recumbent Trikes
• Winter Cycling

As I noted, this is a list of selected articles, so it’s not exhaustive by any stretch of the imagination. Still, it should provide access to articles that provide longer-term reference information, and which seem to be among the more popular on the site. If you are a person who enjoys the site because of the cycling posts and want to refer someone here, this page would be a good place for them to start.

I will plan to update it and add to it over time - particularly in the area of trail and equipment reviews and so on. I will also likely include a link to it in posts about cycling to make it easy to find.

I said that I’ve been cycling off and on for most of my life, and that is true. But my enthusiasm for cycling has really grown over the past couple of years. I can see by the number of visitors that there are a lot of other folks who are also enthusiastic about it. I appreciate your time and attention here at Applied Life and I hope you will find the new page helpful.

And - of course - I also needed to update the tag line, which is now: Science and Technology - and Cycling! - In Everyday Life...

EJW

Seasonal Goals

Last Wednesday took us over the calendrical hump into official Spring, and thus far the weather seems to be agreeing. Here in Northern Illinois we’ve seen temps in the 40’s and low 50’s over the past wee, with suggestions of numbers sneaking into the bottom end of the 60 degree range next week. Skies are also appropriately gray and threatening much of the time - depressing, but on track.

I am, of course, a year-round cyclist, so the riding never really stops. However, it would be fair to say that the variety of riding changes during the winter. When the snow falls and the air bites I tend to stay closer to home, and the routes available naturally become limited to what is cleared and open. Given this, the arrival of the fairer season gets me thinking about what type of riding I’d like to do in the warmer months. Given that, I thought I’d share some of the goals that are running through my head for the next couple of seasons.

More Trail Exploration

In my region we have two long-distance trail systems - the I&M Canal Trail and the Hennepin Canal Trail. I’ve ridden on each of them, but only one time each, and for shorter distances. I’d like to get back to each of them and spend more time and distance on both.

For the I&M Canal trail I’d at least like to extend out my rides to get from LaSalle all of the way into Ottawa and back, and I’d like to do that more than once, incorporating some sight-seeing into it. The trail passes through Utica on it’s way, which offers some interesting options, as well as Buffalo Rock State Park.

The Hennepin Canal trail is much longer than the section that I rode along last summer, and it is also listed as a primary component of the Rails-to-Trails cross country course. I’d love to go further along it as well. In addition, Hennepin has both the primary east-west course, as well as a feeder canal system that runs from Rock Falls southwards to the main canal. Lots of territory to explore and enjoy there.

There are other trail systems in the broad region that I’d like to get myself out to see, if at all possible. I’m primarily a road-rider, in part because getting out on trails requires car travel, which I often have plenty of during the work week. Still, the trails offer an opportunity for variety that I’m sometimes missing at home. Likely there will be reviews of these if and when they occur.

New Road Routes

A while back I put up a post about Ogle County’s cycling website. I think this is an excellent resource, and it’s a credit to the county that they provide it. Unfortunately, similar resources don’t exist closer to home. I’m hoping to establish some routes closer to home that provide a similar experience to what is detailed in their site. This will take some work, so it may not happen quickly (or I suppose, at all), but I’m hopeful.

Longer Rides

As is perhaps hinted at in the sections above, I’d like to see if I can’t incorporate longer rides into my routine. I had my highest mileage year on record last year, but my average ride was just under thirteen miles (12.94 for you sticklers out there). I am always impressed with the people who do century rides, and that’s something that I aspire to, but my available riding time makes something like that pretty challenging to fit in without significant planning.

Most of my regular rides are in the 8-14 mile range. I do have a couple of regular routes laid out at longer distance, but I think I’ll need some variety to make them more interesting to do with any sort of regularity.

Looking Forward

I’m sure there will be more to come as well, but this is where my head is at the moment. Spring brings hopes and possibilities!

A Final Gift for the Season

I am not an early morning exerciser. Virtually every Sunday I try to get myself out for a ride, and this is so ingrained in my head at this point that I think of it by name - my Sunday ride. But it’s not an early morning activity, because I reserve Sunday morning for coffee, contemplation, and writing.

But this morning was different - I was out before virtually everything (well - except the coffee. Nothing happens until I’ve had at least one cup of coffee...)

This winter has been an odd one, even for the extremely variable Midwest. The first third or so of the season was unusually warm - perhaps to lull us into a false sense of security - and then became a powerhouse of snow and wind off and on for a couple of weeks. That polar vortex was followed by a shift into the wrong kind of winter, giving us an ugly patchwork of tired, retreating drifts and frozen mud.

But we’re now moving on to the end of the season, spring is right around the corner on the calendar, and most of the snow has melted away.

Well - I guess I should say had melted away.

When I got up this morning and looked out the window it became clear that the weather gods had offered up a winter cycling gift for the last part of the season. The ground was covered in a blanket of snow - and not just an odd, out of character late-season dusting. No - this was a solid inch to inch-and-a-half or so of actual powder.

In short - real snow for real winter cycling.

But it’s mid-March. Snow at all this late in the season in northern Illinois is - or at least was (thanks, climate change) - virtually unheard of and, when it occurs, it’s flurries or at most just a light dusting. The abundance I was seeing out my window just doesn’t happen. And it certainly wasn’t going to last.

I checked the handy-dandy weather app to find that it was 30°, working its way up to a high of 41°, and the above-freezing temps were set to start showing up in the very near future. This meant if I wanted to play in the snow it was going to need to be soon. So I took the drastic action of deciding to set aside my Sunday routine, completed only my most necessary of necessaries, and geared up to ride.

You would think that, by this point in the season, the novelty of a ride in the snow would have passed - that this is something that one would feel only as the calendar rolls us into those early days of winter. Some years that just might be true, but this really did feel like a gift, it’s ephemeral nature making it all the more precious.

Undoubtedly because of the warming trend for the day, the road was untouched by plows, offering only tire tracks from the occasional passing vehicle.

Because of the lateness of the season, this ride offered an auditory extravaganza that one does not typically experience when riding in the white stuff. Yes, you do have the crunch of the snow under the wheels (a thing I comment on often and always love), but today all of that was accompanied by the bird calls, most notably those of the returning Red Wing Blackbirds.

These well-dressed gentlemen of the prairie are the true harbingers of spring out here. You can have your silly robins with their garish outfits - they don’t hold a candle to the toughness and determination of the RWB. And besides, you can hear the blackbird’s trilling call for miles. You know they are here by sound long before you see them.

I took a little longer on the route for this ride than usual, taking some final pictures and so on. This was likely my last opportunity to lay my tracks in fresh powder for most of the remainder of the year. It seemed reasonable to savor it a bit.

Rare Opportunity

This past Friday offered up a rare home office day, and an even rarer opportunity to ride my trike for actual transportation.

The overwhelming majority of my riding is recreational. Though I’m on country roads most of the time, it’s on loops designed to get me back around to my start, and to enjoy the trip along the way. This is a reality of my work situation - I travel a lot, and none of it is within a reasonable ride distance from home. When I’m not off-site I work out of a home office, which is wonderful, but my spouse objects when I bring the trike inside to ride the 10 feet from the bedroom to the office...

Friday presented with the perfect confluence of location and opportunity - working from home, and enough open time to ride, rather than drive, to the post office.

It’s an eight-mile ride one-way, almost entirely on rural backroads. It’s about a half-hour round trip by car, all things considered, and takes somewhere between an hour and 10 minutes to an hour and a half cycling (depending upon the day and depending upon me).

I always enjoy riding, but there’s something extra-special to me when I get the opportunity to ride to an actual destination. This might sound odd to the folks who commute via pedals on a regular basis, but it makes for an additional feeling of purpose to the ride that I really enjoy.

Now, to be clear, I’m not trying to claim any particular level of virtue here. While I try to do what I can for the environment - driving fuel efficient cars, using LED lighting, etc - I don’t for a moment delude myself into thinking that this very occasional 16-mile trip even rates as a drop in the bucket in comparison to my routine motor vehicle usage. This is, in fact, one of the things that people often don’t think about with respect to country living - a natural consequence to being away from everything is that you have long distances to get to everything. You spend a lot of time in the car.

But that sense of purpose is there, and I enjoy it.

And so I gear up for the ride and get the trike ready, checking the bags to make sure I have enough room in there for any mail that I might be bringing back. I also check and double-check to make sure I have the mailbox key (which I have forgotten at least once on on of these forays). Then I hit the road with my sense of purpose in hand (or maybe in the bag - my hands are occupied with steering after all - have to re-think that metaphor) and head out.

I ride the same route that I drive for the trip, but it’s all different at cycling speeds. You get a chance to see the things along the way and enjoy them at a more human level. This can be, of course, both for the better and the worse.

The better is this hill, which appears early in to the third mile of the ride.

It’s a relative high point that drops rapidly into the valley carved by Bureau Creek. It is, unsurprisingly, the source of my top-speed measure for this ride (coming in at 34.55 gravity-assisted mph). It’s warmer, at 39°, but still winter, and the snow still sits along the sides of the road and banks of the creek.

The bad is the dogs which chase the trike - virtually every single time on this route - a mile or so afterward. They chase the car as well, when I drive this way, though the feeling is very different, as any cyclist knows. I’ve been riding in the country a significant portion of my life, and I’ve been chased by dogs many a time; You learn to contend with it. But I always worry about the dogs where this is allowed to occur. Whether car or bike, when they are chasing they are in the middle of the road, and there is no variation of this scenario that is safe for the animal. Growing up out here I lost two dogs to the road, so perhaps I’m particularly sensitive to this, but still...

A few miles later and I’m rolling up to the post office to check the mailbox. Lock the wheels on the trike, get the key from the bag (which I have ensured has room for any mail I might pick up), go inside and open the box to find... nothing.

This is not a terribly uncommon occurrence, opening the box and finding it empty. On most days, when I take some time out of the work schedule to drive to the mailbox I’m frustrated to find it bare, my efforts fruitless, my time wasted.

But this day is different. This day I got to ride, and ride with a sense of purpose. The fact that it is empty doesn’t take away from that. If anything, it means that at least I didn’t have to spend still more time sitting in my car just to find out there was nothing there.

This day I got to ride.