Bygone Bicyclist

So it’s been a while. I feel I’ve been completely swamped with all kinds of everything since my return to Phoenix. My most important task, finding a more tour friendly wheel, has been on the sidelines, yelling at me to actually pull the trigger. Needless to say, I haven’t been doing the things I want to be doing. Work and income plague those who dream, don’t they?

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!

Long work days (and nights) have kept much of my free time lately. When not working, or sleeping, I seem to be spending my time cooking. Tonight I am spending much of my time doing so; truffles, cookies and pies – oh my! That said, it’s a fantastic night for it. Outside it’s in the low 40s, windy and raining. It may be a white Christmas after all! A few days ago I experimented with an apple pie with blackberries, ginger and cardamom. The crust was exquisite, filling amazing and presentation gorgeous. I don’t think I’ve ever made a pie so perfect before. Since, I’ve decided that to be my Christmas dinner cooking project.

Snow.

Strange weather really. As debates heat over global warming, we see some of the coldest temperatures for the month / year in many places. In some cases, we even see all time low records being broken – see: Alberta, Canada breaks record low by 10 degrees Celsius. While the effects of modern day humans obviously has *some* effect on the atmosphere, temperatures over the last two winters have been quite bitter – more so than “average”. Since arriving after my long commute, the average low here has been around 30. Winter hasn’t even struck yet! No, this post isn’t about the weather, global warming or what you think.

My time on research and planning has been halted a fair bit lately by work. Soon updates will be more plentiful, but until then, they may be a little sparse. The winter holidays don’t help at all in that department either. Things are hectic and days are short. The weather has inhibited my riding a fair bit since arrival, but it is supposed to be warming a little bit this week. Perhaps this weekend I will get in some decent riding time. Of the two bikes I brought with me, only the penny is functional right now. I tore apart my fixed gear (my ‘training’ bike) to give it a paint job. It’s coming out quite fantastic, and I can’t wait to get it all back together and see it done.

Coming right along. Forgive the camera-phone.

Christmas nears and I can’t help reminisce the magic years ago. Most people grow out of the magic of certain childhood discoveries, beliefs and / or mysteries. Christmas seems to be a subject drawn dismal to most as time goes by. Maybe it’s partially society. Perhaps it’s growing out of tradition. It could be the many a reason, not just a specific something. Either way, I have so many fond memories of Christmas times as a child. Some will argue the ‘reason for Christmas’ versus the commerciality of the common Christmas (while ‘reason for the season’ definitely can differ from person to person).

That said, there are things I miss and feel myself drawn to more this year than perhaps in the near past. I haven’t had a real tree in my house in over 5 years. My dad and I used to volunteer at the Christmas tree lot, and some of those times are the most fond of my youth. I don’t get to sing in the choir this year (and regret that). I haven’t caroled in over a decade, and Christmas music, overall, seems something that has slipped from my life. The last few weeks I have been listening to some of the all time (as well as some not quite as popular) greatest recordings of Christmas songs and I’m really brought back to a time of joy and comfort. It’s almost as if a door has opened, and light is allowed to shine the dark abyss, ultimately warming and pleasing the receiver. Do yourself a favor this year: listen, sing and enjoy some Christmas classics!

I know I can attest to this, and for that very reason I make such an assessment. Rarely does it seem I (or many people) have time to just sit down and reflect on things. Reflecting on things so fond and moving in your life can often be the answer to the question you feel unanswered for some time. Looking back at times of joy and cheer give insight to what could possibly give you such a feeling again. The holidays are depressing to some, but I think many could find great joy by acting out their holiday with more fruitful acts. Even if you’re happy or just neutral, try to give yourself 5-15 minutes a day to think, write and reflect. It can do wonders for the soul.

38 and raining. It’s coming down quite hard. Dreary days for me are like sunny days to most. I love the rain and clouds. I attribute it to growing up in a state that is sunny 360 days a year. Days with no clouds in the sky at all really seem to ruin my mood. Strewn clouds throughout the sky leave me pleased for the day. Rain and pure cloud cover and I am just dandy. ecstatic really. Even riding in the rain deters me not, although cold hands, feet and ears are often miserable. Wind though…wind can go straight to hell. West Texas hills combined with Texas winds lead to miserable workouts, long lived miles and tiresome rides. I’m guessing a large majority of reason comes from my choice is rides this trip. A penny farthing and a fixed geared road bike. Given my little option in gearing, the hills and wind take a larger toll than 100% necessary otherwise.

100% random, holding no bearing or meaning to this entire post.

Dealing with weather is a major task of cyclotouring. While out in the wild, fending for yourself, only what you bring, have or find is at your disposal. Rain, snow and cold pose problems when venturing into the Arctic, but not as bad as most think. Fairbanks, while not quite in the Arctic, averages highs of 60, 70, 73 and 66 from May to August respectively. Deadhorse, however, averages 27, 44, 54 and 51 through those same months. Average lows in the Arctic Circle are in the 30s during the summer, meaning freezing is a possibility. Add in any wind chill and precipitation and you can get nice slushy, mud ridden roads along the Dalton. I think weather is my biggest worry, combined with distance that can be traveled per day. The only reason the latter worries me is the effect time has on weather. The longer it takes to get to and from Prudhoe, the higher chance at both bad weather, and being later in the year (leading to colder, worse weather).

During the summer there is very little night time from the Arctic and north. This causes constant glancing sunlight, where temperatures have a chance to stay decent all day. That said, snow in the summer is a possibility, and sun has never been a cure-all to storms systems. Fairbanks and south can reach highs over 90F, so it’s not all fun and games in the dreary cold when it comes to the A.C.T. 2010.

Pene is back in commission thanks to my ingenious grandfather. If he was my age, he’d easily be some kind of nuclear neuro-aerospace engineer (if that could even exist). A problem solver on the simple spectrum, but a brilliant creator on the complicated side. Any problem needing solved mechanically seems easily cured. Seemingly impossible looks just a normal task. But when something is mentioned impossible, then you create a dare of sorts. At this point his brilliance is challenged, and it seems the wheels churn at a motivated pace. It’s obvious where my dad gets it from. Me? Well, I’m still working on that.