My first RAGBRAI was quite the experience. Honestly, even having read a few “beginners tips” sites, there’s still a ton to take in (and be learned) of this massive group ride. The Register likely does their best at organizing the 15-35 thousand daily riders, but there’s a lot to take away from not “using” the Register’s accommodations. 500 miles in 7 days was fun though (with a single exception of .2 mile walked). I met a ton of great people, and even made a small amount of fantastic friends. The bike held up just great, and it was her last stand – she’s for sale now. It’s a fantastic bike, and restored, but someone who rides as hard as I do (and as much as I do) could use something with more spokes. As well, I’d like a slightly larger wheel, but it’s not 100% necessary. Considering the thousands of miles I like to ride and tour, and cranking the bike up 15%+ grades, I don’t want to demolish a bike not made for such abuse. [Contact me if you're interested in her though!].

Speaking of grades and mileage: the final day, after about 470 miles of riding (for me – that’s a few off route miles) there was one real hill. It was talked up greatly, and rightfully so. 1.1 mile at 14-19% was pretty killer. I hate to make excuses and such, but it felt little different than some of the hills I rode loaded on the coast, but with mere inches (feet at best) between you and another cyclist on any side, riding up on an ordinary bike is much harder than it is when on the road alone. A short distance after the .3 mile to go marker, I was forced to get off, when I literally ran out of room on my left and right (to help shimmy up the hill), at which point my wheel nearly stopped moving. The safest bet to avoid injury of me or anyone around me was to get off, and join the 90% of riders walking up the last quarter-mile.

An unexpected bike shop filled with many machines from the past.

West Bend, IO. This was neat for me, because my great grandfather was inspired by the Grotto here, and would travel to West Bend buy gems, stones and minerals to build mangers and Virgin Mary grottos that I’ve seen since I was a young’in

The ride was fun though, and definitely sparked my long distance / endurance riding desire again. We’ll see what the future holds for the Bygone Bicyclist, but I have a feeling it will be quite exciting.

I’ve thought for a long time about venturing across Iowa with RAGBRAI (Register’s Annual Great Bicycle Ride Across Iowa). This year was an obvious choice of years to do so. Sioux City, IA is the start city, which is where half of my immediate family is from. RAGBRAI is huge to locals and the cities – and rightfully so. With the Arctic Tour in the plans and works, doing the ride across Iowa was much less tangible this year. Once I returned home to revisit my mechanical issues, I decided I *could* do it this year. Tomorrow I leave for God’s Country – 5 AM. 24 hours later, I’ll be doing final preparations to ride across the state, reviving Penelope back to the road. Yes. Penny farthing across Iowa during RAGBRAI.

Seven days.
450 miles.
Countless adorable Midwestern towns.
One man and his penny farthing.

Stay tuned for pictures, updates and the like. Follow me on Twitter or Facebook for more frequent updates!

I figured the following was suitable with the impending Tour de France (TDF) going on. I stumbled across the name a week before the Tour started, and am eternally curious of the possible connection! Family history is something I find entrancing. The possibility that a long lost cousin or something raced, won and became the first foreigner to win the Tour is exciting.

François Faber
Champion cycliste Luxembourgeois

François Faber was born in Luxembourg in 1887. Less than a year prior, Thomas Stevens finished his trip around the world via penny farthing. There is no doubt that any cyclist of the era indeed did ride a pfar from time to time. Like most, he did the work he could while an amateur, but soon went professional and began some fantastic history. Riding the TDF for the first time, in 1906, he didn’t even finish. In 07, he placed 7th. The following year, placed 2nd, and even won two stages (daily race). Faber must have been a known name during that time.

The 1909 Tour rolls around, and history begins. Arguably the worst weather in Tour history, François pedaled on, creating a record that still stands today – five consecutive stage wins. TDF of the past hardly compares to current. When roads were nothing but cobblestone and dirt, bicycles had one gear – fixed – and weather made for a miserable or casual day. Mud, snow, potholes, rain and ice plagued the 09 Tour. Stage three started with the temperature just above freezing (in July!). Faber finished the day soaked in mud, 33 minutes before his main contender, French rider Gustave Garrigou. Stage four was to leave Belfort at 2 in the morning, despite the worsening weather. Faber attracted thousands for his daily set off, and tens of thousands for his arrival at the finish line. Winning stage five after being blown off his bicycle twice by torrential winds, once being knocked down by a horse, riding through potholes and knee-high water and even *breaking his chain* and being forced to run the last kilometre into Lyon…winning another stage. Faber emerged victorious in 1909, but a major injury thanks to a stray dog in 1910 ultimately cost him the next year’s win.

Teammate Lucien Petit-Breton wrote of Faber’s lack of confidence early in his racing career, stating Faber would stop at a bar or restaurant, waiting for the “champions”.

I told you he’d be head and shoulders better. Not only did he show I was right but he let his pals Garrigou, Alavoine, Duboc and van Hauwaert take the first six places. And he went even further [il a même forcé la note] in giving seventh place to his half-brother! I can still recall when he started, in 1906, with the isolés. He set off from the start with his handlebars up high and he stayed at the back of the group all the time, riding on the wheel of the best riders. He was young, with no confidence in himself. His only wish was to be the last of the isolés to stay with the champions. Sometimes he stopped at a bar and ate his sandwiches as he waited for his ‘colleagues’, to finish the day in their company, because he didn’t like being alone. After last year’s Tour, I hadn’t any doubts about his immense possibilities.

Faber won 27 total races, and 19 Tour de France stages before being shipped out by the French Foreign Legion (FFL) for World War I. François received a telegram May 9th, 1915, stating his wife had given birth to their first child – a daughter. Rumor has it, upon receiving the telegram, he jumped for joy at the news, and was killed by a German sharpshooter. The more widely accepted story includes Faber being shot while carrying an injured soldier from “no-man’s land” at Carency & Mont-Saint-Éloi. His FFL regiment lost nearly 2,000 of their 3,000 strong group during the attack. Faber was lastly awarded with the Médaille militaire.

What makes that so compelling to me besides the similar last name?

• He was born in Luxembourg, as was his father. My great-great grandfather was as well born in Luxembourg, right around the late 1800s.
• Nicknamed “de reus van Colombes” (the Giant of Colombes), François weighed in at 91 kilograms (roughly 200 lbs) and stood 1.88 metres tall (6′ 2”). Every story I hear of my great and great-great grandfathers is their massive size, with hands frighteningly large.
• Faber! Need I say more?

It’s no doubt the Fabers of late knew of François. The real question: is there a tie between us? Who wouldn’t like to believe such a character was distant relative? Perhaps one day we will know the truth. I rest my case!

I was recently reading Dave Moulton’s blog and came across his article “Please don’t make the bicycle a political issue“. I feel anyone and everyone can take away something positive about cycle riding from this simple, 500 word blog post.

I hate that the bicycle is made out to be something political. I have stated here before, if automobiles ran on pixie dust and had zero carbon emissions, I would still ride a bicycle. I am a cyclist, and riding a bicycle is a love and a passion.

Forget the burning of fossil fuel for a moment, even if we overcome that issue; the bicycle is still a more civilized form of transport. It eases congestion; one person on a bike is taking far less space on the road than one person in a car who is taking up the space of four to six people.

It is less dangerous to other road users, and more bicycles on the road, with the resulting less cars would make it safer for everyone. It is a wonderful form of exercise, and it is fun. When is driving a car fun?

These are the real benefits of cycling. Riding a bicycle to ease the dependency on foreign oil is not what the majority of Americans want to hear. If we think, everyone in the US is going to dump their cars overnight and start riding a bike, either to save the planet or save America, think again. It is not going to happen.

Sell the idea that cycling is fun, and it is good for you, not keep cramming the green, environmentally friendly idea down people’s throats. All that does is it makes people feel guilty, and that makes them angry and sends them off on an anti-cycling rant like Representative Patrick McHenry.

http://davesbikeblog.blogspot.com/2008/07/please-dont-make-bicycle-political.html

From Seattle I had approximately three days until the border, and I was out of new replacement spokes. 1,000 miles traveled and I’d used well over 20 spokes – probably closer to 30. After having narrowed down the reason behind the breaking, assessing the solution was next in line. The reason was a coupled problem. Kennedy cycles are fantastic city rides. I still love the bike very much, and am so glad to have it. Throw on another 40-50 pounds and it starts to have a small issue. That small issue stems from a design flaw (oversight, ignorance – whatever you wish to call it). Center drilled holes (in the rim) make it hard for the spokes to have a nice straight line from the hub to the nipple. A slight bend sometimes occurs, and this eventually becomes the weak point in that single spoke. As well, the bicycle only has 52 spokes, when most ordinary cycles had somewhere between 70 and 100 spokes. This alleviates the spoke-line issue a small bit, and also adds multiplicative strength to the wheel.

Why is this such an issue then, considering I just said it wasn’t a big deal? Well. Breaking spokes on the road is a complete mind game. Breaks aren’t a huge deal. You get off. Replace it. Check trueness. Continue riding. All in all it takes me about 3 minutes to replace both a spoke and nipple as well as thread, jive, weave and maze the new spoke into the lacing pattern. When you break a spoke, it’s like both of your tires going flat at the same time (on a bicycle with pneumatic tires, that is!). It’s kind of a bummer. When the second spoke of the day breaks though, it’s like getting 95 flats at the same time (even though it only takes a few minutes to fix!). It’s just a mental deterrent. Spokes rarely if ever break while in the city without bags. Get on some 4-8% grades with 40-50 pounds of gear and the stress level overdoes it.

So where’s that put the Bygone Bicyclist? Well, he has a few plans up his sleeve that hopefully prove to be fruitful. In short, I’m on a small break, pausing until I get my issues solved. Have I quit? Far from. Do I plan to finish this SF to AK journey? 100%, of course. Do I still plan to do it by penny farthing? Is that a serious question? That’s the only way I can fathom traveling. Having completed 1,000 miles on my Kennedy up the Pacific Coast states, it’s clearly proven that I can complete this journey. It’s a matter of mechanics at this point. As soon as the problem is solved, you can bet you rear I will be back pedaling towards The Last Frontier. I honestly cannot wait to get more miles done. Since Seattle, I’ve taken a train home (to Phoenix), where I am planning out my return to the road with a stronger Wheel. Don’t write me off. I’m far from finished.

My host in Castle Rock took me to Mt. St. Helens. The weather that day wasn’t supreme, but it drew a real picture of how insane Mother Nature actually is (as if Mount Saint Helens wasn’t picture enough). The winds at the top of the observatory were somewhere between 50 and 70 mph. It was in the low 40Fs and raining. The views and mountains were amazing either way though. I’m so glad I got to go.

Castle Rock has it’s own jail. The towns population is stated to be around 2k, but it is a tiny place. As well, some locals and local sights.