Ride Recap: Morgan!

Nestled on the back (east) side of Mt. Diablo, Morgan Territory is a very old road dating back to the mid-19th century. Named for Jeremiah Morgan who emigrated to California and started a ranch in 1857, Morgan Territory Road crawls up Marsh Creek to a saddle at over 2,000 feet and then drops precipitously down to the Livermore Valley. In the summer the entire area is beastly hot—usually well over 90F—with the only consolation being tree cover during much of the ascent. Winter is challenging not only for the rain but the very cold temps—close to freezing—that make the descent a chiller.

Don’t delay: this is the right time to do a ride on Morgan Territory Road. The club rode it last Saturday and the fruition of all this winter’s rain was there to see: spendiferous, green hills verging on the psychedelic. It won’t last long with the window of opportunity maybe being another month. We’re now in the first real warm spell of the year and the soils will dry out quickly. How much more rain we’ll get to keep all the vegetation lush and green is a question mark. By mid-May the hills are usually mostly golden brown. Poppies are beginning to bloom in the grasslands especially on the south facing side of Morgan Territory. In a week or so expect to see orange swaths painting the green hills.

This past Saturday’s ride followed a brief return to winter with the last storm blasting the Bay Area mountains with snow and rain on Thursday. Here it was April and we’re getting snow; this has been a strange winter. I didn’t give the snow a second thought because I thought it would quickly vanish given how late in the year it was. But Saturday morning it was still quite chilly—about 40F at the start. By the time we were actually climbing on Morgan Territory midmorning it certainly felt a lot warmer. Nonetheless we passed by quite a bit of snow by the sides of the road!

This ride was slightly cursed: the original ride host David Goldsmith incurred a mysterious wrist injury that wasn’t healing and is still keeping him off the bike. His sub, Jeff Mishler, then got food poisoning and had to back out [pun intended] at the last minute. Jeff Pekrul finally was our kindly host of the day. The others who didn’t have a lame excuse to avoid Morgan Territory were Roger, Alden, Cathy, Suzann, Paul, me, and Bud.

Everybody was pretty swaddled up except for Alden who actually showed up with bare legs. Brr! Even though I knew I’d warm up on the climb, the approach is long and then the descent is too. So I came prepared with a windproof jacket and layers I could remove or redon as needed.

In what has to be a first in a long time the group stayed pretty much together for the ride. Usually a group either flies off the front or slips off the back never to be seen again leaving the main group both mystified and/or impatient. There isn’t any cell signal on Morgan so lost riders pose a quandary. It was actually nice for a change to be gruppo compatto. There was plenty of gabbing that only vanished when the road hit 14% or so. At two points my Garmin said it was 18% but I’m skeptical. Numbers may not lie but Garmins most definitely do.

The start rolls out Clayton Avenue all the way to Clayton. This morning the traffic was already bustling and a line of cyclists is the right kind of peeve for your pickups or 4x4s heading in the same direction. No punishment passes though. After a short bathroom break in Clayton we cycled on Marsh Creek Road to the turnoff for Morgan Territory. Marsh Creek Road is your standard county road: no shoulders, people blowing well past the speed limit in a rush to go nowhere, and your typical bike-hating one-percenter heading back to his/her trophy “ranch”. I’ve learned to get off the road when the lumpen come racing because they love to pass you oh-so-closely. But this morning Marsh Creek was civilized for once as we made it to the turnoff without incident.

In the forty-some odd years I’ve ridden Morgan Territory I can’t recall it ever being repaved except for a pot-hole repair here and there. After the rains of 2016 a landslide took out a significant portion of the road not long after you turn off Marsh Creek and it took a year to repair; the concrete retaining wall marks the spot. So the road has been horribly bumpy as long as I can remember and god forbid you should try to ride down the north side! But this past year the county *finally* repaved the road and although it’s not buttah, it’s good enough to ride your 23 mm tires and still have your teeth at the end of the ride!

Morgan takes its time to ramp up and gently gets steeper with each mile. It’s like cooking a crab by slowly turning up the heat—you’re in a pickle and too late to realize it The road is full of false flats too so you think that’s the end of the steep only to face another one around the bend. Morgan follows Marsh Creek all the way to the top and it was flowing noisily from the rain two days ago. The lack of traffic, the excellent tree cover, and the cascading creek set a pastoral mood. Then we came across the snow. At first I didn’t notice it except for some whiteness in my peripheral vision. But it recurred enough that I finally glanced at it and realized it was real snow. We weren’t even up a thousand feet in elevation. But it’s tree covered and on the north side so it lasted for two days!

At the summit you emerge from the trees for one last steep mount. Those who are familiar with Morgan will recognize the short but steep decline to a tiny bridge crossing a stream. This is the last pitch. Like a “V” it then sharply goes up. Take it full speed and don’t brake so you can keep your speed up all the way to the entrance to Morgan Territory Preserve. We took a long break enjoying the green grass, bright blue sky, and the warm sun.

The subsequent descent is perilous: curvy and narrow with a steep fall-off on the right—miss a turn and you’ll go flying! Uphill traffic makes the descent even more dangerous especially if a vehicle doesn’t hug its side of the road through a curve. But today there was little car traffic. I fully expected Roger to lead the way since he’s a demon descender with no fear. But he decided to Ansel Adams his way down taking pictures of the beautiful scenery. Jeff made it down first and surprisingly I was second even though I’m risk averse on downhills.

The ride east on Manning and then Highland always has a headwind and that day we were tired enough that we pacelined all the way. Once in Danville we stopped at Sultans Kebab for lunch on their outdoor patio before heading up Danville Blvd back to Concord–a nice but long, flat course. Paul and I bid adieu to the crew and peeled off in Walnut Creek and went west to our respective homes. Boy, I was tired and crampy but that was some spectacular ride!

Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes!

Which of these two derailleurs is not like the other?

Turn and face the strange
Ch-ch-changes

If you’ve been cycling for some time, you’re probably aware that stuff in the cycling world changes frequently. Maybe not as fast as with automobiles or computers but faster than ever these days. Cycling companies have adopted the model year model and they churn out “new” product so you’ll keep buying their stuff. Hence, we have displays of the latest goodies at the annual Eurobike exhibition, the annual Taipei bike show that just finished, and if you recall we also had an annual gathering in Las Vegas—Interbike —where all the new toys would be on display for those of in the US. Every year the big bike companies release new junk and the smaller companies dutifully imitate them even if their resources are so much smaller. Shimano, the world’s biggest groupset manufacturer, mostly has been on a three-year turnover for its groups but it has enough tiers—Dura Ace, Ultegra, 105, Tiagra, etc.—that there is a new introduction every year. Although SRAM and Campy don’t seem to be so tied to regular turnover, they also introduce new goodies.

Newer technologies seemed to have spurred even more crazy turnover so we have a bewildering introduction of carbon wheels, suspension, disc brakes, electronic shifters, gravel whatever, and aero anything practically daily. How many of these product companies will even be around in ten years is a big question mark.

Which brings me to the point of this post: although I could go on specifically about all the different bike technologies that create at least as many problems as they solve—to wit, tubeless road tires—there is so much turnover in the bike world that your bike is obsolesced in a rather short period of time. Bikes are designed around whatever parts are available at the time of production and there is no telling whether those parts or parts with the same specs will exist in ten years assuming your frame even lasts that long. Any talk of a “lifetime bicycle” is a joke these days not because of the durability of the frame but of the ability to get replacement parts for long-gone “standards”. Want an example? What will become of your “old” rim brake bike? Will you be able to get rim brake replacements ten years from now? And if your bike frame isn’t designed to accept 25 mm wide rims and 40 mm tires, what will you do when all the old school stuff vanishes?

The Shimano front derailleur on my 2006 Marin Novato died a few weeks ago. This bike was inexpensive and is nothing special except that at the time it fit a need of mine exactly. I added fenders and used it for years to commute to work rain or shine. It’s now my rain bike. So it’s had heavy usage and probably has 20-30,000 miles on it. I’ve maintained it well over the years and replaced a few drivetrain parts due to wear and tear. In fact the aforesaid front derailleur is a replacement part. The front derailleur’s spring is held in place by a stop molded into the aluminum body. The stop either wore away from usage or broke—I’m not sure which—and the spring sprang while the bike was sitting unused in the garage and is as dead as a doornail. I went to use it for a recent rainy ride and discovered this sad development. Hey, no problem! I just look for a replacement…except I can’t find one. For whatever reason it is not made anymore and I couldn’t find any spare ones at any online shop or even EBay, the mausoleum for ancient, outdated bike parts. I did discover a bike video by a clever, machine tool loving cyclist who repaired the same derailleur, which had exactly the same problem as mine. More perusing and I discover that other people have had this exact same problem and are also looking for replacement parts. Online “experts” recommend what they think are suitable substitutes. So this seems to be a problem due to the design of the derailleur, ie. it’s built to last “long enough” and then you toss it. Typical Shimano design, in other words.

If you’re the kind of person that has people to do your minor bike repairs and maintenance, this is almost completely irrelevant because you’re going to dump the bike toute de suite at your favorite bike shop and have them take care of it. No worries, right? Except they’ll run into exactly the same brick wall: they can’t you get a replacement and so they’ll have to do some research ($) on a substitute (if there is one). You would think that even if the same part is no longer manufactured that a substitute would be at hand. My bike has a Shimano 9-speed, triple chainring drivetrain and Shimano still makes 9-speed triple drivetrains in their lower tier groups. However these newer 9-speed drivetrains also have redesigned derailleurs with different pull actuation (= the amount of cable pull per index shift) and different cage shaping. Most bike shops don’t have the time or interest in such trivial conundrums. The time they spend figuring out a solution for you—if they’re even interested—is not worth it to them and probably not to you. Instead they’re going to push you to change the entire shifting system or just dump your “outmoded” bike for something new. Which might be great until some time in the future when you need a replacement part and find out that there isn’t one for your “new” bike. So you’re kicking the can down the road, emptying your wallet, and helping your bike shop stay afloat financially in one of their worst years for retail.

I was aware of this potential roadblock, ie. a redesigned front derailleur geometry and decided that since I didn’t want to try to repair the derailleur, I might as well just throw money at the problem and see if it worked. I bought a new Tiagra 10-speed triple front derailleur and installed it. It didn’t work. It didn’t have enough throw for some reason so it couldn’t do more than two chainrings. I figured it was the newer geometry that was causing this, so I bought a NOS Shimano 9-speed road front derailleur on EBay. It appeared to have the older geometry. I spent today installing it and it was a frustrating experience. It’s really a standard road triple derailleur and what I have is what would be called a ‘touring’ crankset. In addition my dead derailleur was part of a groupset that Shimano designed for flat bars, not road bars. The NOS derailleur doesn’t have the right geometry to shift without some rubbing. But at least it had sufficient throw and seemed to work well with my front shifter. But I was undone by it being a road triple (eg. 52-42-30) rather than a touring setup (eg. 48-38-28). I suspect the derailleur cage shaping is slightly different. I spent over an hour trying to get the derailleur to shift without the derailleur cage rubbing a chainring and making an annoying racket. If your eyes are glazing over at this technical baloney, don’t worry: the bottom line was that I can’t get a contemporary Shimano derailleur that will exactly replace what I had. I got it to work but not like the derailleur that broke. It will shift but I can’t use all the gears without listening to a lovely cantata of metal grinding metal in some gear combinations that I had previously used without concern. Maybe an older mountain bike derailleur might work. But Shimano also has changed the pull actuation ratios of their mountain derailleurs and their cage shapes are definitely different than for road chainrings.

The astute among you know exactly where I’m going with this and what the solution is. The solution is to ditch the stupid Shimano Rapidfire shifters and use ‘old school’ thumbshifters. Then I’ll be able to trim the front derailleur and avoid rubbing but at the cost of having to be more mindful when I’m making a front shift. (Otherwise I’ll again be serenaded by grinding gears.)

There is another solution: change the entire drivetrain so that everything is compatible again. I could do that for maybe $500-$600 if I did all the labor myself. To spend that kind of money to “replace a front derailleur” is frivolous and verging on stupid. Or, I could just get a new bike, which would be the final stop on this frustration train.

The myriad front derailleurs along with all the changes Shimano has made over the years have consigned a simple solution—if there is one—in the realm of esoterica. What magical incantations are required to get a front derailleur to work are currently beyond me. So I’ll keep an eye out for a used front derailleur exactly like mine. But my suspicion is I won’t find one anytime soon, if ever.

I’ll try living with the limitations this new derailleur impose. But if and when I tire of them, I’m going to get off the bike technology train and just get an analog thumbshifter, which will work with just about any front derailleur. Change can be so frustrating at times.

Ride Recap: Palomares & Calaveras

Palomares or Calaveras alone would make a decent club ride; putting them together on the same menu is a surfeit of climbing fun/torture. A complete loop connecting them is, well, the Primavera metric century. But the way we do it is another cheater’s conceit to enjoy the climbs without having to endure a lot of flat miles, which as Scott Steffens said, “It’s like riding in LA!” The Primavera has the hardest combo: up Calaveras from the south and then up Palomares from the north side. Those are the steep sides. Plus it’s 65 miles or so. Saturday’s ride was just half the fun: up Palomares from the north side (tough) but then up Calaveras from the south (easier). If you ride Calaveras from the south, you not only climb up to Ed Levin Park, where the Primavera traditionally has its first rest stop, but you then have to surmount “the Wall” and a wall it is. Instead we were to blast down the Wall all the way to Milpitas for a fun, if scary at times, downhill.

We started at the Castro Valley BART station and ended the ride at the Milpitas BART station. Almost all of the crappy, insipid miles traveling the length of Alameda county on the Bay side are cut out by making it a point-to-point rather than a loop ride, and we are lucky to have BART to make getting back to the start a breeze. Nine Spokers showed up although Scott, the co-leader, had caught the wrong train and messaged us to go ahead and he’d catch up.

After what seemed like weeks of drippy, showery days that made it hard to get out for a dry ride, we finally got a real spring weekend: full sun and warm enough to ditch the leg- and armwarmers. We were set for fun! What hadn’t been planned on was Caltrans closing I-680 at the I-580 interchange for a major pavement repair. I-680 wasn’t on our route but it forced hordes of cars onto the surface streets in a Waze-induced search for a “faster” way to get to whatever important appointments they had on an early Saturday morning. What surface streets? Well, Palomares for one. It’s just a few miles from the BART station to the beginning of Palomares and I was all set for some peaceful country vibes up the climb. I’m not sure how Palomares has been spared the development that would otherwise have turned it into another Van Nuys but it’s still rural or as rural as anything embedded in the core Bay Area can be. But today it was turned into a hellhole of impatient drivers irritated at being kicked off I-680 on their way south to San Jose. We had never. ever. seen as many cars on Palomares as today. It was fucking insane how some of these drivers were passing us on blind curves like we were slalom poles. Roger and I pulled over a few times because we just couldn’t deal with the cars riding right on our asses—oh yeah, and also to be polite. (Who’s polite in traffic these days?)

As is typical of a long climb, everyone goes at the pace they’re comfortable keeping or more correctly, the pace that they are uncomfortable keeping. Did you know that Palomares has a hyperbolic shape and the ugly, long 10% section is just before the summit? We caught our collective breath and then plunged down the south side. But we couldn’t go as fast as the cars wanted us to go. The good news was that almost all the traffic was traveling in our direction (south) and there were almost no cars heading towards us. If drivers heading towards us had behaved like those behind us and crossed the centerline in the curvy sections to pass the numerous cyclists heading towards us, it would have been really scary.

I can’t say I enjoyed Palomares this time but at least we were alive. At the bottom at Niles Canyon Road I was expecting worse: all those cars heading with us surely were going to, like us, head to Sunol in order to catch I-680 again. But they mysteriously disappeared and we had Niles Canyon pretty much to ourselves. (Later we saw why.) Niles Canyon partially collapsed a month ago and was shut down by Caltrans. That section is now one lane controlled by a traffic signal. The whole canyon was strangely empty. It’s probably been about six years since I’ve ridden there. I try as often as possible not to ride on Niles because it’s can be a nerve wracking death trap: no shoulders, lots of high speed cars, and narrow bridges without any consideration for cyclists. In addition to the paucity of cars I was greeted by—hello progress!—a new bridge with a real shoulder. And part of Niles Canyon now has enough shoulder so Caltrans has cut rumble strips into the asphalt. Well, the rumble strips were both good and bad. I’m glad drivers get an abrupt warning when they cross onto the shoulder. (But then again by then it’s too late if you happen to be a cyclist using it.) But today the rumble strip was an annoyance because of the copious broken glass on the shoulder that forced us to cross it repeatedly.

We ran into another group of cyclists just before the traffic signal, which was good as there is power in numbers for cyclists. We got through the signaled area without a hitch and rolled into Sunol for a bathroom break and our first visit to the Sunol Corners store, which is the only source of replenishment in the area. We took a long break enjoying their outdoor patio. Sunol used to have a cafe as well as a liquor store and both have closed leaving only the funky Sunol Corners as the sole place to get any food. (Good news: as we passed the closed Sunol Food & Liquors I saw a liquor license announcement posted in the window, so it’s obviously changed hands and should reopen.)

While we were reposing Scott arrived. But we were still missing Nancy. David got a text from her saying she had “zigged instead of zagged” at the start of Palomares. Scott hadn’t seen or passed her. Hmm. There is no cell signal on Palomares so there was little chance of contacting her or her us. So we opted to leave and hope she’d catch up at Ed Levin Park.

As we approached I-680, I noticed that the southbound exit and entrance ramps were being repaired by Caltrans. So Waze must have told the phalanxes of autos passing us on Palomares to head to Fremont and get on I-680 there instead of Sunol. Mystery solved.

Climbing up Calaveras from the north rather than the south is quite a different experience because the grade is much less severe. And unlike the Wall it softly undulates as it rises. That isn’t to say it’s easy; it’s just less hard! Unlike Palomares there was an almost complete absence of cars too. Boy, the green hills surrounding the Calaveras reservoir were spectacularly green. I love cycling in the countryside at this time of year. (Next stop: Patterson Pass!) The poppies were coming out adding a lovely splash of orange set against the green. Steph, Roger, and I took a break to absorb the views and the others soon caught up. Then we descended the Wall—it was like being thrown out of a plane and reaching terminal velocity in a trice. I am not sure which is scarier, staring up the Wall after climbing up to Ed Levin or staring down the Wall with no end in sight.

At Ed Levin Park we took another long break downing whatever snacks we hadn’t finished at Sunol Corners. David got another text from Nancy. She had made it to Sunol. We thought she was maybe 15 minutes behind us but we weren’t certain. We waited but she didn’t show so we left again and dropped down to Milpitas, ie. mini LA. When I was a youngster growing up in the Bay Area, Milpitas was a real nothing, a backwater. Now it’s a huge, sprawling suburb of San Jose with a Tesla plant to boot. If you love strip malls, wide multi-lane streets, and industrial parks, this is your town. David originally planned a lunch break just before boarding at Milpitas BART. But everybody was stuffed from snacks and the social butterflies needed to get home early to primp for their Saturday evening engagements. So almost everyone ended up getting on BART and heading home.

It was my first time in the Milpitas BART station. Wow, a clean BART station…at least for now. Given that BART’s “cars of the future” are already looking like they’ve lived through too many Detroit winters, Milpitas should be indistinguishable from Civic Center in just a few years. How long does it take for filthy and worn to become ‘charmingly historic’?

The last time I rode to the end of the Orange line it didn’t go any further than Fremont. So I got a chance to glimpse at the three new stations. I sure hope people are using these new, expensive stations because I don’t want to see fares go up to pay off the enormous (underestimated) construction costs. Oh wait, BART fares always go up, don’t they? You think those construction costs are ridiculous? Wait until BART and VTA finish the line in SJ and we have to pay for that boondoggle. In the meantime we cyclists get to benefit by using BART to avoid riding in the congested East Bay. Cherry picking at its best. Despite the traffic on Palomares it was a great day to be on the bike. Too bad you missed it!

Thanks to David and Scott for the beautiful day, and Nancy, we hope you had a great day too even if we didn’t see you after the start!

A Royal Lane

Proposed bike lanes on El Camino in Palo Alto

Did you know that there is a Caltrans proposal to install bike lanes on El Camino Real? This would be only between Menlo Park and Mountain View. That is still a significantly long section of El Camino with very dense traffic. I was stunned to read about it here. The proposal is actually quite tame in one respect: these are not protected bike lanes, only your typical painted green lanes. In another respect it’s quite radical: the parking on El Camino will all be removed to accommodate the new bike lanes. The article in the Palo Alto Online mentioned that there was some skepticism of the proposal. But surprisingly it was from the bicyclists, mainly that if bike lanes are going in then they should be protected since the speeds on El Camino are usually well above the posted 35-mile speed limit. The business owners usually bemoan the loss of parking spaces caused by a bike lane but in this case owners along El Camino seem to be in favor of bike lanes because they anticipate that foot traffic will actually be better for them.

Cycling in the suburbs is a mixed bag. Side streets can be quieter but arterials can be scary for cyclists especially if they don’t have bike lanes or decent shoulders, and El Camino is most definitely an arterial. Also since suburbs are designed for cars you have a lot of car traffic whereas in SF one would walk or take Muni. El Camino is a big thoroughfare spanning from Colma all the way down to Santa Clara. To my recollection there has never been a club ride that did more than cross El Camino because cycling on it is unpleasant, busy, and requires full attention to the traffic. Recreational cyclists on the Peninsula don’t use El Camino unless they have to and in many places there are much quieter and less dangerous side streets.

Has there ever been a club ride that used El Camino? Not to my knowledge. Why would you want to ride there? If we head down from San Francisco to points south we’re better off taking Highway 35, which also has fast traffic, the Bay Trail, or Alameda de las Pulgas.

Even with bike lanes it is difficult to imagine what cycling on El Camino would be like other than unpleasant. It will still be full of traffic, lots of stop lights, and the concommitant automobile exhaust, noise, and distracted drivers. When I lived on the Midpeninsula there were plenty of times I rode on El Camino simply because it was the fastest and most direct route. What may be unpleasant for recreational cycling often fades into the background and becomes less significant when you’re running errands.

I recall two memorable experiences cycling on El Camino when I lived in Palo Alto in the 1970s. In those days I didn’t own a car and did all my errands by bike including taking my recycling to the collection site in a Cannondale Bugger—yes, that was its real name—trailer. One time I was running an errand by riding on El Camino when I was stopped by Palo Alto cops in a squad car for riding in the vehicle lane instead of the parking lane, which only intermittently had an empty set of spots. I told the cops it didn’t make sense to ride in the parking lane when there wasn’t a parked car and then pull out into the moving vehicle lane when there was since that was dangerous. Cars wouldn’t see me and wouldn’t be expecting me to enter. Plus, I’d be weaving in and out a lot. The cops wouldn’t have anything of it: “You have to ride next to the curb. You either do it or you get a ticket.” What a stupid, uninformed response. But what do you expect from cops? The last thing they know is the law especially as it pertains to cycling. So I meekly said I would and as soon as they moved on I went back to taking the lane as was my right. By the way this occurred in the days when Ellen Fletcher, who was a fierce cycling advocate in Palo Alto was just beginning her long battle to improve cycling in Palo Alto. Perhaps today I wouldn’t have had to deal with such ignorant cops because of her.

My second memorable experience was much more pleasant. Two friends and I decided to ride up Mt. Hamilton from Stanford. We left very early on a Sunday morning and took Foothill Expressway south and eventually to El Camino Real. It was early enough that El Camino was almost devoid of cars. It was great! I had never seen El Camino so empty. It gave me a glimpse of what it might have been like to cycle on the Midpeninsula before cars became de rigueur.

A Century Old

Early Spokers at the 1982 Sequoia Century

Once considered a rite of passage for recreational cyclists—riding one hundred miles in a single shot—the century ride is gradually becoming a relic of another era. Century rides no longer seem to captivate cyclists’ imagination the way they did during their heyday in the 1980s and ‘90s. General interest has been trickling down in the Bay Area and probably elsewhere in the US as well. That is reflected in Different Spokes too. Greg Lemond’s wins in the Tour de France in the 1980s and then Lance Armstrong in the late 1990s and 2000s really propelled interest in road cycling. Next thing you know cycling is “the new golf”. It seemed there was a century ride almost every week in or near the Bay Area from April through early September. Although many have survived, there is a trail of defunct rides such as the Hekaton, the Banana, the Holstein, and Mt. Hamilton, which are fondly remembered. Centuries were regularly selling out and each year clubs were striving to increase the number of riders they could accommodate. A ride with 2,000 cyclists wasn’t unusual. Although some centuries still seem to have good numbers; for example, the Wine Country Century regularly sells out its 2,500 spots but instead of selling out in a matter of days as it used to it’s now taking months.

At the finish ceremonies in Guerneville for the first AIDS Bike-A-Thon 1985.

Century rides are/were usually put on by local cycling clubs. But we know from the experience of putting on the AIDS Bike-A-Thon for ten years in the 1980s and ‘90s that running a big event like a century ride is a substantial amount of work even when you have it down to a formula. A lot of volunteers is absolutely essential not only for planning but for pre-event logistics and day-of-event work. If your club doesn’t get burned out from doing all that, you at least need a year to recover! Keep in mind that the bigger the event, the greater the number of volunteers you need. If you’re a small club, this is a real stressor. When we were putting on the AIDS Bike-A-Thon the club was somewhere just under 300 members at its height. But many of those members were passive, ie. donating a paid membership but not doing much else to support the club. The clubs nearby that continue to put on century rides all have memberships that are much greater than ours, which currently hovers near a hundred. Although they manage to pull it off, even large clubs like Valley Spokesmen and Grizzly Peak Cyclists have to beg their members pitiably for volunteers.

On top of that onus—declining interest in volunteering—is the increased cost and effort of putting on an event on public roads. Permitting, police time, venue reservations, and portable toilets all have increased in cost and difficulty in getting arranged. Food isn’t cheap anymore too. Insurance costs for events have also gone through the roof. That the registration fee for a century can be $100 shouldn’t be a surprise anymore; that’s a long cry from the $25 back in the day!

Amateur racing clubs have it a little easier. Licensed clubs are supposed to put on a race annually. Where do they get their volunteers? From their members who, if they want to race for that team, have to put in drudge hours to support the club. Since they want to race (or at least hang out with the cool kids in cool kit), they have to volunteer. No such luck with recreational cycling clubs. Requiring volunteering as a condition of membership is a fast way to zero out your membership. I don’t blame you all. Let’s face it: life is stressful in the Bay Area no matter how well paid you are. Traffic sucks, work hours are often ridiculous, and affording a place to sleep practically involves submitting to indentured servitude. The last thing you want to do is fritter your precious me-time on helping a broke-ass cycling club put on a century even if it’s just one or two days of unpaid work in a year.

And on top of all that, road cycling has other kinds of cycling competing for your interest. Bike touring is still lurking in the background (no one in the club does self-supported bike tours anymore except Phil and David). But the trends du jour are bikepacking, gravel riding, and even mountain biking, which is getting long in the tooth. And don’t forget “gran fondos”, which are just competitive centuries in that you get a timing chip so you know exactly how slow you are. By the way did you know that Levi’s Gran Fondo in Sonoma asks $295 for the pleasure of riding in its event?

While recreational cycling clubs may be backing away from putting on century rides, other entities with more enthusiastic members may be taking up some of the slack. First you have professional businesses who look at big riding events as potential cash cows. Event promotion is a way to earn a nice living as Dan Pallota can tell you. Apparently Levi Leipheimer, Jens Voight, and George Hincapie would agree as well since after their pro racing careers they’ve gone on to put on gran fondos. But other charitable organizations have noticed the turnout and our willingness to fork over dollars to ride a road bike for a day. Best Buddies, the Multiple Sclerosis Society, American Lung Society, the Alzheimers Association, and many others put on day rides for road cycists and you can either pay the money upfront or promise to raise a minimum amount of money to participate. Another organization that has tossed its hat into the ring is Rotary International. This service organization with local branches all over the world has a number of small fundraising centuries around northern California. What’s nice about them is that they are on the small side—a turnout of 500 is considered big–and locally sponsored. Rotary in Santa Rosa sponsors the Giro Bello—that’s pretty close to the Bay Area—but Rotary in Yreka sponsors the Siskyou Scenic Tour, a much smaller community and quite far away. The Almaden Lions Club has been putting on the I Care Classic for many years. What I like about the newer and smaller rides is their homey and community feel as well as a chance to throw a little bit of money their way. Of course these organizations exist in order to serve, so finding volunteers to run their events is less chancy than pleading to your cycling membership.

You may not realize it but regardless of whether a century is put on by a local club or by an organization like Rotary or the Friends of Feeney Park, it’s really a fundraising event. Clubs like Valley Spokesmen and Grizzly Peak Cyclists plow the money they pull into donations to local charities after they’ve paid their not insubstantial bills. But keeping your volunteers jazzed and willing to come back year after year takes some secret sauce. And when you’re a club that’s basically devoted to me-time and having fun and when helping other people involves more effort than submitting your credit card number, that is a hard sell! Some of the fee money that other clubs collect is plowed into the general fund to pay for their club events like picnics, club meetings, and travel that benefit everyone in the club even if just a small percentage volunteered. I think one of the reasons that the AIDS Bike-A-Thon practically killed the club was that we took NONE of the money that was collected—all the millions of dollars went to beneficiaries. What we were left with was the momentary high of pulling off a massive charitable event and the awesome burnout afterwards that slowly drove the volunteer base down and the club was still broke with never more than about $1,000 in our treasury (if that). Dedication and commitment can get you only so far. And then you need me-time. We’ve always been a broke-ass club and we continue to be to this day, depending on the kindness of its members to dig a little deeper into their pockets to keep the bills paid. Part of what sustained our motivation was that this was all before protease inhibitors came on the scene. Prior to Crixivan in 1996 HIV medications were of limited effectiveness. Raising money for palliative care, treatment, and research was literally a way to stay alive and to keep hope alive. That was a powerful motivation to keep putting on the Bike-A-Thon!

The history of Different Spokes and centuries is mixed: although the club was founded primarily by bike tourists, as the club was forming in 1982 the club leaders ended up doing the Sequoia Century and according to Bob Krumm had a bonding experience as well as enjoying it. As the club grew a new cohort of “avid recreational cyclists” came on board and they routinely did centuries around the Bay Area. Of course back then there were quite a few to choose from. That generation of Spokers were the ones who entertained Walter Mitty fantasies about riding with Greg Lemond and Andy Hampsten (and perhaps doing more than riding with them!) This was always a small group within Different Spokes but it happened to contain many of the club leadership through the years. That shouldn’t be a surprise because we had the AIDS Bike-A-Thon, a club event, and this regularly became the goal for the year. Even members who weren’t preternaturally interested in riding a hundred miles would gird their loins and participate in the Bike-A-Thon.

Today the Spokers who show up at the local centuries are the same faces I’ve seen for years minus those who’ve aged out or who realize that paying $100 to ride roads you ride anyway is kind of stupid. I’d rather think of it as a contribution to another local cycling club or a charitable donation to a non-profit so that they can fund their programs. I just hope their volunteers stay happy and jazzed to put on a whole-day event year after year.

I’ll still keep showing up at the start even if I’m down these days to riding metrics. At least until I age out as well. Riding centuries has long been akin to a religious ritual for me. And going to church is what some of us still do.

The start of “church services” at the 2010 Monticello Century

Ride Recap: Pedaling Paths To Independence and how I survived

February is a bit early to head out for a century in northern California—mainly because the chance of getting rained on is higher. But the trade-off is a smaller crowd and being able to enjoy some surreal greenery and countryside right at the height of spring color. But the Pedaling Paths To Independence is “just” a metric and mostly flat so lack of training is likely to be less devastating.

Pedaling Paths is put on by the Stockton-Delta Amateur Radio Club as a fundraiser for the Community Center for the Blind & Visually Impaired (CCBVI). Service organizations such as Rotary International and the Lions Club have jumped into the business of charity cycling. But this is the first time I’ve heard of an amateur radio club actually organizing such an event. Kudos to them! CCBVI serves the greater Stockton area, which has a population of about 400,000, and is similar to the San Francisco Lighthouse for the Blind—if you are familiar with this non-profit in SF—in providing services for blind and low vision residents. This year was the 15th edition. We started attending in 2017 and were charmed by the ‘small town’ community feel of this event, which draws only a few hundred riders. Compared to mega-centuries such as the Wine Country, the Marin, or the Tour of Palm Springs, which draw several thousand riders, PPTI is really small fry and couldn’t offer the same experience. But that was exactly why we fell in love with this event: it DOESN’T have the ‘big event’ feel that most centuries have and is more of a gathering of friends for a day out. I’m sure they would like to become a bigger event in order to raise more money. But that requires a lot more volunteers and even with an event of only a few hundred participants they’re probably already maxing out their enthusiastic volunteer base.

Last year Roger, Stephanie, David, and I made plans to head out to Linden, which is the start town about ten miles east of Stockton. But last winter was the season of 33 atmospheric rivers and the morning of the ride we bagged it when we saw the forecast. Overhearing the conversation of riders this year I understand that last year was pretty awful, ie. ‘character building’. This year we were spared such a whipping when the storms relented just in time and we had an incredibly glorious day in the sun with temperatures in the 70s. The recent rains and the consequent lack of riding probably detered some of you from attending, that and having to drive about 90 miles from the Bay Area. But this year you really missed out! Just David, Jeff, and I dared to go.

The forecast was for partly cloudy but it was already full sun when we arrived in Linden at 8 AM. It was cold at home and so ever fearful I threw in an extra layer expecting a chilly start. But in Linden it was already warm from the unexpectedly ample sunshine and instead of fear of freezing we were concerned about dressing too warmly. I left my extra clothes in the car and David bagged his leg warmers.

PPTI’s route is a giant loop through the ag lands of the Valley and into the rolling foothills to the east. This is perfect terrain for an early century: the first 30 miles are mostly flat before the roads start to roll slightly. Those rollers are small and short enough to motor over without losing too much momentum. Lunch is at the 40-mile point and afterwards it’s a few more gentle rollers before a mostly flat run back to Linden. In years past Roger and I have ridden it on our tandem and it was ideal since there were no giant inclines to slow us down and we made fast business of the flats. On a single bike there really is only one potential obstacle: an afternoon westerly.

None of us had been riding much. I hadn’t done much riding since early December and then I took three weeks off the bike for travel and I had barely started riding again. Even a 25-mile ride was challenging for me. So taking on a metric required some ~~stupidity~~ thoughtfulness. The only way I was going to survive this ride, particularly its length, was to go slow and never push it, something I’m, uh, not known for. Like a country dog I’ll chase anything up the road!

Right off the bat both Jeff and David clearly wanted to ride faster. It didn’t matter because within minutes I started having what turned out to be a series of technological mishaps that had me sailing off the back. Which was a good thing because then I could ride at my own pace rather than be tempted to keep up. First up was my heart rate monitor: it died. I thought it was simply because the chest strap wasn’t making good contact. But after stopping three times to finagle with it, repositioning it, and wetting the contacts, I realized it truly had a dead battery. HRM batteries last a long time and this one happened to die at an inopportune time because now I had no way of objectively monitoring my effort. For an idiot like me this development was going to be the fast track to leg cramps and dying of exhaustion. I did have an Apple watch but guess what? I was apparently so flustered that I couldn’t get it to work either and soon gave up.

I caught up with David and Jeff at the first rest stop at mile 15. More finagling produced the same result: nothing. I was resigned to riding just by feel, and that’s dangerous because I’m prone to “hey, I’m feeling pretty good!”, going real fast, and then blowing up. But I had forgotten I had a power meter in my crank. I could use power instead of heart rate to monitor my effort. I usually use a power meter when I’m concerned about maximal efforts, so using it to keep my effort low was unfamiliar territory. We left the rest stop together but they shortly left me in the dust.

And then guess what? My power meter died. Without it nor a heart rate monitor I was almost surely going to blow up and probably get a miserable set of paralytic leg cramps at some point. But like a good boy scout I’m prepared and keep a spare coin battery in my saddlebag because power meters chew through batteries like candy. Unfortunately swapping a coin battery in a crank power meter is best done in the shop, so replacing it by the side of the road took an inordinate amount of time. By then Jeff and David were long gone and so were my hopes for drafting. But with a working power meter again at least I could rein in my tendency to go too fast.

The other benefit of riding PPTI by myself was that I got to kick back a bit and appreciate the scenery. Valley towns run the gamut from Stockton or Modesto—true urban centers—to towns like Linden, which probably started as a dorp in the 19th century—a farm village—and slowly grew into a small town. Consequently the area surrounding Linden is vast and varied ag land; Linden is just where you go as a farmer to have your tractor serviced or to pick up supplies. There is no development around Linden at all. The orchards are big and mostly mature trees —apples, cherries, walnuts, peaches, etc. The cherry trees were in full bloom and viewed against the luminescent green hills they were like a psilocibin-induced hallucination. The other major form of agriculture—more the southern end of the ride—is pasture land for grazing cattle. At other times of the year the hills look sere but spring time is when they are fully green despite the cows and sheep munching down on them.

Despite lollygagging along I managed to catch up to David and we rode together all the way to lunch. We took it easy on the rolling hills and didn’t rush despite our hunger. Of course we were passed by everybody, “everybody” being a small number since the metric had well less than 150 participants. Here we learned firsthand that these marvelous country roads are enjoyed by others as well: the faux moto GP locals who raced by us at over 80 mph. Gosh, and drivers complain about bicyclists on the road. With minimal sightlines over the hills on undivided country roads, here was foolishness illustrative.

The lunch stop at 40 miles is at a cemetery (!). Jeff was already there polishing off his food. The food was nothing to bat an eye at but it was the well-thought-out essentials: coffee, Gatorade, potato chips (yum, salt!) and white bread sandwiches with ham and American cheese. It all tasted really good! (Maybe that says more about me than the food?) A good, long rest stop replenishing supplies really helped me to survive this ordeal. So far I hadn’t had any leg cramps despite the warm day and my lack of any intelligent hydrating. But going slow and steady seemed to be working.

After lunch we started off together but Jeff soon disappeared and then David started to move ahead too. But apparently David was starting to feel the long day too and I caught up with him, and through telepathy we both knew we had to stop and take a break in the middle of nowhere. A ten-minute breather did the trick and we moved on. Along the way David started to smell the barn and accelerated to pass a rider with a GPC jersey. Immediately he latched onto his wheel and sucked him mercilessly all the way to the last rest stop.

Showing how small this ride actually is, other than two other riders we were the only participants at the rest stop, which was staffed by a real old fart who looked like he had moved from the rocking chair on his front porch to his table of snacks.

It was now just eight miles from Linden and we took off. But now David was lagging and I was smelling the barn. Despite my singlemindedness I glanced over the vineyards and gasped when I saw the Sierras blanketed in white. Was I looking at clouds? No, it was the Sierras looking quite majestic! I’m not sure David even noticed; in my rear view mirror he was looking labored. In a trice we were back in Linden. The small hall for the post-ride meal was packed (= had about 70 people!) But by the time we had dumped our bikes and returned it had mostly cleared out. Apparently we were near the end of the queue of returning riders. Food consisted of pesto pasta, baked chicken pieces, salad, and focaccia bread served by the local high school kids. I asked for a chicken thigh and the young server didn’t know what a thigh looked like and had me pick it out. Was I ever that naive? Probably so. The meal was very simple but riding your bike makes everything other than spoiled milk taste good! That the food was simple deterred neither Jeff or David who both went back to plead for seconds.

What I noticed about this ride, as was the case in the past, is that not only is it relatively small—I’m not sure they’ve ever had more than about 300 riders—but everybody seems to know each other. There were certainly a lot of Stockton Cycling Club jerseys and a few Sacramento Wheelmen as well. The event is not that old but it’s well-honed and everything runs smoothly. It’s a fundraiser for a small non-profit and I can’t understand how they’re able to garner such volunteerism for an elaborate event like a century to collect such a small amount of money, about $9,000 in total. I guess spirit and commitment still stand for something these days.

I managed to endure the entire 65+ miles completely pain- and cramp-free. That I was able to ride intelligently rather than rashly must be evidence that I’m finally an adult, at least when it comes to cycling!

Ride Leader Appreciation

On Sunday February 25 we held our long delayed Ride Leader Appreciation Dinner (RLAD) at il Casaro Pizzeria in San Francisco. The last annual RLAD was in January 2020 before the statewide Stay-At-Home order was given due to the COVID Pandemic. Ride leaders and event hosts from 2020 through 2023 were invited to attend for free as a warm “thank you!” for leading during that time. Seventeen members and their friends showed up. That more of you ride leaders were not able to attend was, alas, a disappointment. But perhaps you will be able to come next year when we fête 2024 ride leaders and event hosts!

We had the outdoor patio area all to ourselves and were kept warm by the company of friends as well as the patio heaters! The menu at il Casaro proved to be irresistably delicious with vegetarian and vegan selections and plenty of food for all.

In the four years since we had a RLAD a few members deserved special recognition:

Jeff Pekrul: As we timidly reopened the club to in-person gatherings, ie. rides, in the latter part of 2020 Jeff was the happy point person who boldly led a series of rides. Jeff was the person who proved we could do it carefully and safely and got the ball rolling again to group rides.

David Gaus: While we didn’t gather in person, David hosted a series of Zoom ‘happy hours’ so we could stay in touch and virtually enjoy each other’s company. In addition he also hosted our 2020 Holiday Party on Zoom as well as the spring 2021 Kick Off Meeting.

We had some innovations in rides in the past four years as well:

David Goldsmith and Joan Murphy launched the Early Bird rides in June 2021 reaching out to those who like to ride in the morning before (or on the way to) work.

David Millard has for the past two years been almost singlehandedly championing mixed terrain/dirt riding in the club. After a lull of many years—almost 20 years we are now riding on dirt again!

David Goldsmith and Laura Petracek started the Short & Sassy rides in 2022 for members who wanted easier and shorter rides.

Finally we thank those who opened their homes to the club and hosted events:

Roger Hoyer & Tony Moy for the Orinda Pool Parties (2022, 2023) and the 2021 Fall Social;
Jeff Pekrul for the 2021 Holiday Party;
Adrienne Ratner for hosting a huge crowd of Spokers at the San Luis Obispo Bicycle Club’s Wildflower rides in 2022 and a smaller group for the SLOBC’s Lighthouse Century in 2023;
Phil Bokovoy for the 2022 Fall Social;
Janet Lourenzo for the 2023 Fall Social;
Nancy Levin for the 2022 Kick Off Meeting and Holiday Party;
and Stephen Shirreffs for the 2023 Holiday Party.

Thanks to all you ride leaders and event hosts for making the club what it is: a warm, friendly community.

2024 Centuries: August to November

August
3 Saturday. Marin Century. No information on the 2024 Marin Century yet. Registration opens March 1.

4 Sunday. Civilized Century. $?. 100-, 75-, 60- and 35-mile routes. Registration opens June 1. Limited to 200 riders. Here’s the ‘new kid on the block’. The 100-mile route starts in Redwood City goes up to SFO and returns before crossing the Dumbarton and returning around the South Bay.

9-11 Friday to Sunday. Cycle Oregon Joyride. $475. 52-12 miles. Multiple routes each day. Camping. Women and nonbinary only. Limited to 500.

17 Saturday. Cool Breeze Century. $?. 125-, 107-, 95-, 60- and 34-mile routes. A pleasant, not-too-difficult century down in Ventura county with great weather. Registration opens April 1 (no fooling’!) Limit of 2,000.

31 Saturday. Tour de Fuzz. $?. 100-, 62-, and 32-mile routes. Similar road to the Wine Country Century and even starts at the Luther Burbank Center! You can preregister without payment to hold a spot.

September
7 Saturday. Mammoth Gran Fondo. $129-$109. 102-, 70-, and 42-mile routes. Starting at 8,000 feet in the southern Sierras, a big loop through the eastern Sierras.

7 & 14 Saturday. Ride The Rim. $10 suggested donation. 33 miles. The NPS closes part of the Rim Drive to cars on these two days. Registration opens April 1.

8-13 Sunday to Sunday. Cycle Oregon Rally. $1,400. 298 to 198 miles. Cycle Oregon has revamped its tour. Now it’s a week doing routes in two towns in eastern Oregon, Elgin and Enterprise. Asphalt and gravel. Limited to 600. Registration is open.

14 Saturday. Napa Valley Ride to Cure ALS. No information yet.

14-15 Saturday to Sunday. Bike MS: Waves to Wine. $20 start fee. Ride from San Francisco to Rohnert Park. Minimum $350 fundraising. Currently limited information at website.

21 Saturday. Tour of the Unknown Coast. $?. 100- and 62-mile routes. Tour the redwoods in Humboldt County. Registration opens May 1.

22 Sunday. Eroica California. $150. 97-, 73-, and 35-mile routes. Limit of 1,500. Only ‘classic’ bikes—usually 1987 or earlier—are allowed. See site for detailed rules. Mixed terrain routes. No information yet about 2024 event. Registration not yet open.

28 Saturday. Lighthouse Century. $90. 100-, 75- and 64-mile routes. Limit of 1,000. San Luis Obispo Bicycle Club’s other century. From Morro Bay a detour inland before heading back to the coast and halfway up Highway 1 and back. Registration opens June 9.

28 Saturday. Sacramento Century Challenge. $105-$75. 100-, 63- 36-, and 16-mile routes. Rotary Club fundraiser for at-risk youth. Registration opens May 1.

29 Sunday. Tour de Cure. $?. plus $250 minimum fundraising. 100-, 64-, 32- and 1-mile routes. Rides out of the Palo Alto area. Registration is open.

October
5 Saturday. Best of the Bay. 200 miles. Date set but no information yet.

12 Saturday. 3F Century. 100-, 62-, and 37-mile routes. If you prefer a flat ride in the Valley in Colusa and Sutter counties. Registration opens spring 2024.

12 Saturday. Asti Tour de Vine. $?. 100-mile, 100k, 50k, and 25k routes. Rides in northern Sonoma county starting in Cloverdale. More information to follow. Registration is not yet open.

19 Saturday. Best Buddies Challenge. $50 fee plus $1,800 minimum fundraising. 72- or 38-mile routes. Best Buddies has moved its event to rides in Marin since Highway One is still closed.

19 Saturday. Foxy Fall Century. 100-, 100k, and 50k-routes. No information yet. Limit of 1,500. Registration opens in July.

19 Saturday. Tour de Lincoln. $76-$55. 100k-, 50k-, and 25k-routes. If Foxy Fall is too crowded for you, here’s a community ride just up the road in Lincoln. Registration is not yet open.

19 Saturday. Ride Santa Barbara. $109-$59. 100-, 62-, and 34-mile routes. It’s a longish drive south but Santa Barbara is a great place to do century with beach front views and fantastic climbs in the Santa Ynez Mountains including Gibraltar. Registration is open.

November
16 Saturday. Death Valley Century. $165. Limited to 300 riders. No information about November event yet.

Fun With Tubeless Tires: When Tight Isn’t Erotic

It took me an hour to change a tire the other day. Normally this simple task would involve no more than five minutes even working at a slow and meticulous pace, and I wouldn’t have blinked an eye at the task. But I was changing a tubeless tire and all bets are off when it comes to how easy or ridiculous this can turn out. In this case it was ridiculous.

Like a good Boy Scout I was topping off my tubeless tires with sealant after a wet ride. There are a couple of ways you can add sealant to a tire and I did it the easiest way: unscrew the presta valve, and using the short hose that came with the sealant bottle just inject a couple of ounces into the tire. Job done. But since I had been riding in wet weather, I decided to wipe the tires down and check for anything pointy things sticking in the rubber. Finding nothing I thought I was free and clear but, uh-oh, there it was in the rear tire: a bare patch of tire casing. Shit, now I’ve got a friggin’ tire full of sealant that I have to take off!

All tires wear out and if you’re fortunate you get to ride them until all that rubbery goodness has worn away. With tires pushing $90 these days I am loathe to retire a tire until I absolutely have to. This tire was done—with more rain ahead I dared not risk eking out a couple hundred more miles. I learned my lesson: a dozen years ago or so Roger and I went down to ride the Solvang on our tandem. The tires were worn but I thought they’d last through the day. Nope. About 20 miles from the start we started to flat—we had actually worn through the casing so much that the tube deflated. I stuck a new tube and tire boot in there in hopes that would suffice. Barely. I couldn’t pump it up to full pressure without the tire bulging pustulantly. So we limped to the first rest stop where, very luckily, there was a vendor selling new tires. Day saved thanks to the kindness of strangers (and about $40). But I learned my lesson: see casing, better stop!

I had a new tire at hand and could have changed it right away. However I had just filled the damn tire up with about two ounces of new sealant. Unmounting that tire likely would result in a big mess. You’re thinking: so what’s the problem? Stop whining and just replace the tire. It’s gonna cost you less than five minutes of your oh-so precious time.

Um, that is unless it’s a tubeless tire. Replacing a tube in a regular clincher takes about lickety-split. But with tubeless tires you never know because mounting or unmounting tubeless tires can be a protracted struggle. Why is that? Because they are extraordinarily tight. So I walked away from the whole thing unwilling to face another pointless ordeal.

A month later despite having implored the saints nightly my tire did not heal itself. So I got up the courage and time to confront the inevitable and replace the damn tire. It took me an hour and each frustrating minute I was frittering away at this stupidly complicated task was making me angrier and angrier at the direction that bike technology has taken.

I’ve replaced this rear tire before so I knew pretty much what I was up against. Which is why after I discovered the bare patch I waited over a month before resigning myself to fixing it. It’s never as simple as you imagine and it’s definitely never as simple as changing a tubed tire.

Tubeless tires need to mate well with the rim in order for a good seal to form so that air won’t leak out. This isn’t just a nuisance issue of having to pump up your tire every other day; it is a safety issue too because you don’t want your tire to unexpectedly and savagely deflate while you’re riding—like while you’re turning—as this can lead to a crash. Ten years ago I started playing with road tubeless, everything was in the experimental stage (ie. you and I were the guinea pigs). Some tire-rim combinations just didn’t work well because the fit between the two wasn’t precise enough. Rim manufacturers such as Enve then started to evaluate tires on the market and would recommend certain tires that they found would fit well with their rims and warn consumers away from other tires that didn’t work. That’s the last thing tire manufacturers want: a penumbra of doubt—maybe it’ll work or maybe it won’t. Worse, they don’t want a rim manufacturer saying DON’T use their tire!

This led to the European Tyre and Rim Technical Organization (ETRTO), which sets standards for rims and tires, to produce new standards for tubeless rims and tires that literally tightened up the manufacturing variation in rim dimensions and tubeless tire bead diameter so that tires would fit more precisely and not blow off rims and would seal and hold air. You may think this is a good thing—yay! standardization! But it is now more difficult to mount or unmount an ETRTO compliant clincher tire onto an ETRTO compliant rim. Those slacker standards pre-tubeless allowed us to pick and choose rims and tires and they all worked pretty well together. The reason? Even if the dimensions were less than ideal the tube once inflated would force the tire against the rim bead hook and hold it there securely, preventing the tube from blowing out. Without a tube the only thing containing the air inside is a tight fit of rim and tire bead. Any slop results in bleeding air or worse, the tire being able to blow off the rim easily. You would think that making the rim/tire fit tighter would make it easier to inflate road tubeless tires; ironically it may have made it worse. And guess what? Soon all rims and tires will end up complying with the new ETRTO specs because those in the business of making money on bike products want to make sure you can use any of their products in tubeless applications even if you never intend to switch over.

The bottom line is that more often than not it will be a struggle to put a new tire onto a contemporary rim. And the converse is also true: unmounting the tire can become an ordeal. If you have a flat on the road—yes, it does happen with tubeless tires too—you will have double the trouble: unmounting the tire to put in a spare tube and then remounting it (while your hands are covered with slobbery tire sealant) can, nay will, become a time-consuming shitshow. And yes, I have unfortunately experienced this too.

Here’s what I did. Holding the wheel vertically, I let the sealant pool to the bottom. I stuck a tire lever under the bead at the top of the tire and then carefully a second lever near it. This can be difficult with regular clinchers and it’s usually worse with ETRTO compliant tires and rims. Prying a tight bead off with short, flexible tire levers can be nearly impossible—they don’t have much leverage and they bend so much that you think they’re going to snap in two. The trick was not to do it violently despite the difficulty because then sealant might go flying especially if you then drop the wheel. Putting just one lever in wouldn’t have been any good—the bead is so tight that I wouldn’t be able to stick a second in, so I had to try to lever the bead off with two right away. The problem is that it is harder to pry a bead off in two places at once. In the past I’ve done this and it’s been a struggle. This time was no different and with forceful efforts I finally got part of the bead off the rim—without spilling any sealant! A flick of one lever slowly around the perimeter of the bead and I got the first bead off.

Thanks to Jeff Mishler for a tip I had the perfect tool for removing the sealant: a Park TSI-1. It’s basically a big syringe that can suck up all the sealant so I don’t have to spill it. This also conserved the sealant and I could reinject it into the new tire. I did this before removing the second bead in order not to end up with sealant all over the floor (and me).

The second bead came off more easily. The next step was to clean the rim and inspect it for any problems. What sort of problems? Well, like your rim tape coming loose. Almost all rims have spoke holes and these are covered with a special rim tape so that the rim cavity is completely sealed and can contain air at pressure. Tape can migrate and the air pressure can force sealant around the edges compromising the seal. By the way, did you know that the ammonia in some sealants can corrode aluminum alloy spoke nipples? (I’m looking at you, Stan’s!) So you don’t want there to be any leakage into those spoke holes.

I thought at this point the hardest part was over. I was wrong. With a tubed clincher inflating a tire is simple: Just pump. The tube inflates and pushes the tire against the rim wall until it catches the bead hook. Voila! You’re done! But there is no tube with tubeless tires. So whether or not a tubeless tire “just inflates” when you pump is a big question mark. In my experience the answer is “mostly not.” The problem is that most floor pumps don’t inject air fast enough to push the tire out against the rim wall. Since there is no seal between the tire and rim, air just leaks out between the two. In theory a tighter, more precise fit should make it easier to inflate but that isn’t always the case.

After futilely pumping as fast as I could and getting nowhere, I had to get out the (literally) “heavy machinery”: an air compressor. As I’ve mentioned before, an air compressor is a handy-dandy tool for running a nail gun, inflating your car tires, and for blowing compressed air when you want to clean up an area. It’s also very useful for inflating tubeless tires. Unfortunately they are bulky and quite heavy; if you don’t have a workshop, it’s a bit much to have one around. (Instead you can invest in one of the newer floor pumps that have an air reservoir that you can pump up to 160 lbs. or so pressure. Opening a valve releases the air quickly into your tire and hopefully gets it to seat against the rim and seal.) After priming the air compressor I tried inflating the tire. The goal wasn’t to fully inflate the tire but rather just to force the beads against the rim wall and seal. Since I had removed the presta valve core, there was no way the tire could remain at pressure anyway. Once I had the beads seated, I would add sealant, screw in the presta valve core, and then inflate to riding pressure with the floor pump. That was the plan anyway.

The tire inflated and pushed against the rim walls. Most tires these days make telltale ‘snap’ sounds when the bead pops into place. With old-school tires, apparently the beads were sufficiently loose that you rarely experienced that. The ‘snap’ is the bead popping out of the wheel well onto the rim shelf; in addition some rims designed for tubeless tires have a little lip that holds the rim bead and the bead has to pop over that lip. I heard the snaps—there’s usually more than one as the bead snaps into place in different locations around the rim. But once I stopped inflating, the beads popped right off the rim wall and the tire deflated much to my dismay. I tried inflating longer and to higher pressures. (But I wasn’t going to go beyond 85 psi because a tire of this size on a wide rim is not designed to hold the kind of pressure an old school clincher rim can. The latter are narrower—about 17 mm—and the tires were usually no wider than 25 mm (if that). In this case I had moderately wide rims (21 mm) and a 30 mm wide tire. With the bigger volume the total pressure the air exerts against the rim wall is much greater even at a “lower” pressure such as 85 psi.) I tried more than a half dozen times and the ending was the same: the tire beads would pop against the rim walls but after deflating they would pop off. I was getting very frustrated.

The next thing I tried was inflating the tire to 85 psi and then trying to quickly insert the presta valve core so the beads wouldn’t pop off. It didn’t work. I wasn’t fast enough and the air blasting out of the valve made it difficult to insert the core. I tried this three or four times.

In the past I had used the air compressor and it worked perfectly. But it was usually when there had been sealant in the tire. I reconsidered my decision not to put in sealant before seating the beads. The tradeoff would be the sealant might help the tire make a better seal with the rim right away; but if I weren’t careful, I was likely to have sealant all over the place. I had run out of ideas and inflating a dry tire just wasn’t working. Of course you can’t slosh sealant around in an unmounted tire but I was hoping the blast of air would help spread it around enough. Once the sealant was in the tire, the blast of air snapped the beads into place long enough for me to insert the presta valve and attach a regular floor pump to get the tire up to 80 psi. It worked! The beads stayed in place long enough for me to screw in the core and pump the tire up. I then quickly rotated the wheel every which way in order to spread sealant thoroughly around the tire and then let it sit. Checking the rim I could see sealant had seeped out at a couple locations indicating the seal was not perfect. But the sealant would take care of that. I was done.

I let the wheel sit overnight and the next day it was still at pressure. So I deflated it to its usual pressure, 58 psi. I rode it two days in a row and it has worked flawlessly. Certainly I was relieved that all that effort and time eventually paid off. But really, spending an hour to replace a tire?? That’s absurd. As much as I enjoy the benefit of tubeless tires—fewer flats on the road—it is not a movement overall towards user-friendliness and simplicity. The cynical part of me sees this as indifference by manufacturers and product designers. They want to push the field in this direction and make some money with a new! better! product. The problem is that it is not a better product—it’s a different product—and overpromising is just so tiresome.

Being able to do basic repair and maintenance on your bike is a dying value and product designers seem intent on accelerating that trend. Stupid ideas like tubeless tires that are a chore to inflate are pushing recreational cycling in the direction that automobiles went: all the technology is turning bikes into just one big black box and when something doesn’t work, you have to haul it to the shop. I can completely understand a regular Joe/Josephine Cyclist, eyes glazing over at the prospect of needing an air compressor and hour of time to literally wrestle a tire off and on a rim, just saying, ‘fuck it, I’ll take it to Mike’s Bikes and let them deal with it.’ Oh, and that will be $60, please, for the labor. If you wear out tires infrequently, maybe that’s a cost/time-effective solution for you.

Am I saying that road tubeless tires are a waste of time and money? No. But to embrace them is a choice you make hopefully after understanding what that choice entails. When I don’t flat in the rain, I love tubeless tires. So there you go: one convenience is traded off for an inconvenience.

There is one thing I could have done to avoid this shitshow. I could have mounted the new tire on a spare rim with a tube, inflated it to pressure, and let it sit for a few weeks. That time allows the tire and its beads to stretch out a bit so that it would be easier to mount and for the beads to pop into place. Just make sure you have a spare rim. This is an interesting throwback to the days of yore when we rode sewup tires. A new sewup was nearly impossible to stretch onto a rim, which was inevitably covered with sticky sewup tire glue. A mess was unavoidable. (So, lots of acetone afterwards!) We learned to stretch new sewups onto a clean, spare rim and leave them for a couple of weeks so they’d be easier to mount when we actually needed to replace a tire. They were manufactured tight because you didn’t want a loose tire that wouldn’t line up straight and would be too easily decoupled from the rim in a hard turn. And here we are again. What’s old is new!

Apparently I’m not the only home mechanic who’s frustrated with road tubeless tires: https://velo.outsideonline.com/gear/technical-faq-tubeless-troubles/

And if you want to see a “pro” mechanic install a tire, you can watch him suffer through a similar debacle. Note that the video is edited down so that the actual amount of time he spent is much more than what you see (12 minutes): https://www.youtube.com/watch?app=desktop&v=fgEzCJT7yEw

Now, why is it you’re interested in converting to tubeless tires?

2024: Enter the Drag(on)

Last year we were draggin’; this year Different Spokes San Francisco is getting its drag on! With a reinvigorated board and handful—and I do mean just a handful—of eager volunteers we’re bolting out of the gates with a refreshed club program. We listened to what you’ve been saying—or at least what those voices in my head tell me—and we’re breaking out of the old mold and doing something a bit different this year.

We have a lot to look forward to. By now it’s looking like we’re having a ‘normal’ winter, ie. not 33 atmospheric rivers despite whatever El Nino dread we might have had. To date we have had but one in NorCal. By this time last year we had massive road closures and depressingly we’re still living with a bunch of them because the repairs needed have been massive. But you never know: March is the month that is cursed for cyclists whether it’s a wet year or a rainy one. For mysterious reasons it doesn’t matter what the weather has been like all winter as March is often wet and ruinous.
With that in mind I’ll hazard an optimistic prediction that this is going to be an awesome year for us and the first reason is that several key roads are going to have their repairs done. Which roads?
Highway 84 a.k.a. La Honda Road. Highway 84 from Woodside to Skylonda broke up and died last winter. It’s not a road that cyclists prefer to take and having it reopen isn’t going to mean we’ll be flocking up that ascent. But it is one of the main road for cars to get from the Midpeninsula to coastside, which does mean that once it reopens they’ll go back to it rather than racing up Kings Mountain, Old La Honda, and Page Mill where we prefer to dawdle. Highway 84 currently has one lane open and it’s controlled by a traffic light. But it’s scheduled to open fully this spring. Once that happens we’ll be able to use those three roads again in relative peace and safety. Well, sort of: West Old La Honda is still ruined with no repair in sight.
Alpine Road. Most road cyclists aren’t familiar with Alpine Road except for the civilized section from Stanford to Portola Valley. But it used to continue up to Page Mill Road just below where it intersects Skyline. The catch was that it was a dirt road but very lovely and smooth. I used to ride it when I lived in Palo Alto in the 70s and 80s. It was never maintained resulting in the roadbed collapsing due to culvert failures. It’s been left to degenerate into a mountain bike trail. I thought that was the end as did a lot of cyclists, RIP. In that condition going up on a road bike was not fun and it entered into the “rough stuff” category, ie. “I always take my bike when I go for a walk!” But the Midpeninsula Regional Open Space District got control of the road and to everyone’s shock has started rebuilding the road. It’s expected to open this spring. Wow. There’s gonna be a club ride up that baby as soon as it opens!
Highway One in Big Sur. Paul’s Slide put an end to Highway One last January. After a mind-blowingly huge and long repair it’s expected to reopen this spring as well. How many of you ride through Big Sur? Probably not many. But having it reopened paves the way (pun intended) for rides up Nacimiento-Fergusson Road, which has also been closed because of the very same rains and which is expected to reopen in August. Do I smell a two-day ride up NF to the Fort Liggett Hacienda? Stay tuned…
Finally Wildcat Canyon…it’s actually scheduled to reopen in 2025 rather than this year. But in this sole case that’s a good thing because bikes can still ride it without cars for another year!

Second, you can also look forward to more social events. We’ve had the stalwarts (or is that stale-warts?)—the kick off meeting, annual picnic, Orinda pool party, the fall social, and the holiday party—and we’re hoping to add some new social gatherings that are cycling-adjacent or even completely separate from riding our bikes. We’re planning on putting together a basic bike repair & maintenance training later this spring. We’re also planning more rides with post-ride refreshment (adult or otherwise). So instead of just staring at the wheel in front of you, you’ll actually be able to talk to that member! And we might even revive the old Dish ’n Dine gatherings where we meet after work for a social meal—no cycling talk allowed! (Just kidding.)

And a getaway weekend? We have one in the works for Grass Valley/Nevada City, which is a cycling hotspot west of Sacramento and high enough in elevation to avoid the debilitating valley heat. Stay tuned!