Winter in the northern latitudes is just long enough to make this aging cyclist more than a wee bit cranky. Yes, it is possible to grit one’s teeth and meet winter head-on. In fact, the Dirt Rag staff shared a gunny-sack-full of bright ideas in our Cold Weather Riding blog series: parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 and 7. But my favorite coping mechanism is the tried and true road trip. Due south.

The joy of riding my new Trek Top Fuel test bike in the Florida sunshine in mid-February is more than ample pay-off for the minor inconvenience of piloting my mini-van for 950 miles. A blend of mental toughness and planning is all it takes.

I wanted to arrive at my Florida campground around noon on Saturday. The Google driving directions estimated 15 hours drive time. For safety’s sake I planned on taking short breaks during refueling stops, catching a four-hour crash at a rest stop from 2-6a.m., and taking one-hour breaks for both dinner and breakfast along the way. A simple math calculation set my departure at 2p.m. Friday afternoon. Despite a bit of rush hour traffic and a front wheel bearing that started to howl along the route, the long drive went according to plan. Fortunately, I found a garage a few miles from my destination that was able to replace the wheel bearing while I waited, and I ended up setting up camp a few hours behind schedule. I’ll take that.

The next morning, after a hearty camp breakfast, I pedaled an easy 20-minute warm up to the mountain bike trailhead at San Felasco Hammock Preserve State Park. On these trails momentum was my friend. The relatively-flat, swoopy-fast, singletrack was a delightful departure from my steep up-down hometown trails. Thanks to the paper maps available in the parking lot (click here for pdf map) and ample on-the-ground markings, I managed to string together a 2+ hour ride with no repeats. I had so much fun on the San Felasco trails that I decided to stick around and ride them for the next two days. I managed a 2.5 hour trail ride the next day and a shorter get-away-day ride on my third day.

Then off to visit the parents in the greater-Daytona area. My legs appreciated a day off the bike hanging with the family, sipping coffee and catching up on emails (not quite 100% vacation) thanks to the WiFi at the Java Jungle, a relaxing coffee shop that’s decorated like a tropical rain forest.

On Thursday I swung by the Orlando airport to pick up Dirt Rag alum Carol Clemens, and we headed to Ocala’s Santos mountain bike trails, in preparation for Saturday’s 12 Hours of Santos race. We had time for a short leg-stretcher ride on Thursday before dark.

On Friday morning we set up our race pit along the course, right next to fellow Pennsylvanian and visitPA.com rider Rob Lichtenwalner and his wife Sarah. It turned out that IF Pro Harlan Price, another PA racer, was also on the scene. Quite a few Pennsylvanius Snowbirdicus sightings to be had.

Carol and I headed out to pre-ride the course and found it to be nine miles of mixed bag. The beginning and ending sections consisted of short stretches in the steep, tight Vortex trails—which sandwiched the flat, fast and furious mid-section of the course, where the speed limit was set by how fast one could rail the corners.

Saturday turned out to be a sunny 60-something degree day—delightful for racing mountain bikes for 6 hours (me) or 12 hours (Carol). I accomplished my goal of riding at a sporty pace until I felt like stopping. I cranked out five laps in five-ish hours of racing, and then my knees started barking on the steep Vortex climbs, and it was time to shut ‘er down for the day. Carol was there defending her 2008 women’s 12-hour crown, but 2009 would not be kind to her. This year Carol had a few crashes on her dual-rigid 29er in the technical sections—which led to a couple mechanicals, which led to lengthy pit stops and a fourth palace finish. Under the circumstance, her 9 laps represented quite an accomplishment. PA racers fared better in the men’s 12-hour solo category, with Harlan Price finishing first followed by Rob Lichtenwalner in second. Speedgoat racer Ernesto Marenchin took third place in the men’s 12-hour solo. Complete race results here.

After a couple days of post-race relaxing at the parents place, including a windy and brisk day at the beach, it was time to point the mini-van north. With Carol, my dad and I tag-teaming the drive back to Pittsburgh, the 15 hour return trip was just a blur.

All Mountain.  I think this term has grown on me. It is needed these days to describe the growing number of bikes in between freerider shuttle  bikes and cross country trail machines. The Diamondback Mission series is a good example of this new breed of do-it-all-but-race XC type bikes.

Quick run down of the spec on the large tester I’ll be riding into the spring:

Geometry
-Head Angle: 68
-Seat Angle: 72
-Top Tube: 24”
-BB Height: 13.7”
- Chainstay: 17.32″

My tester tipped the scales at 34.5 pounds.

* Fork: Fox TALAS RL 150-130-110mm travel
*Rear Shock: Fox RP23
* Wheels: Neau Naim 32h 15mm QR thru-axle front, 10mm QR thru-axle rear,
black SS 14g spokes, WTB Laser Disc Trail rims
* Cranks/BB: Truvativ Hammerschmidt
* Brakes: Avid Elixir CR 185 F/165 R
* Rear D: SRAM X9
* Front D: N/A
* Shifter: SRAM X9 trigger
* Cassette: SRAM PG 970 11-34
* Tires: WTB Prowler MX 2.3 front/Stout 2.3 rear, folding bead
* Headset: FSA
* Seatpost: Easton EA50
* Saddle: WTB Pure V Sport
* Handlebars: Easton Monkey Lite XC 31.8
* Stem: Easton EA50
* Chain: SRAM

The main reason I really wanted to test this bike?
Two gears, no waiting.

One real ride in so far. Bike fits well and seems to want to be ridden over rocks and other terrain features. Quickly. I see some trips to find the bumpy stuff in my future, maybe even a day at the lifts once Seven Springs opens again. A whole lotta bike, looks like I need to step it up to find its limits. Stay tuned.

Take a look at this nifty packaging.

  (click on photos for larger versions)

I’m sure by now most of you are familiar with the Fargo, but it’s basically a 29′er mountain bike with drop handlebars designed for adventure touring. The Fargo begs to be loaded up and paraded around the countryside with little to no regard to the surface condition of your chosen route.  Check out Salsa’s Fargo page here.

I’m still in the process of getting my fit sorted out, and getting in tune with the bike, so for the moment I’m going to let the pictures do most of the talking…

Rear dropouts; ride and smile.  And, fork with mounts for a rack and fender, and two bottle cages with straps to hold your bottles.

The complete Fargo comes with Salsa’s Bell Lap cyclocross handlebars for multiple hand positions on the long haul.

Finally, a couple of shots from around town:

Snowy, icy, cold ride for my first true off road Fargo experience which consisted of a 24 minute crit with some singletrack before and after the race.  The WTB Vulpine Tires handled the conditions much better than I ever would have expected, thought the icy conditions really called for studded tires. Overall I was pretty impressed by the Fargo’s off road ability. Though the handlebars feel much better on road than off, having the bars nice and high certainly helped this bike’s off road prowess.

A couple shots from my commute.  There’s quite a collection of graffiti along the way:

Took the long way home from work for this shot.

You’ll see the complete Fargo review in a future Dirt Rag print issue, but I’ll post some additional thoughts along the way, both here in the Dirt Rag Blog and on the Bicycle Times Website.

As I look out my window at icy snow-covered streets, all I can think about are bikes and how much I’d like to be out there riding. I just finished proofing one of the final drafts of our new publication, Bicycle Times, and I’ve got to say, I’m more excited than ever that we’re doing this. Sure, it will mean an almost 60% increase in work for the meager staff of Dirt Rag. Not to mention starting a new business venture while the economy is in the toilet will be challenging to say the least. And let’s not forget the general trend away from print media in favor of online sources. It appears the cards are stacked against us.

Then why am I so excited? Because Bicycle Times will be a magazine (and website) focusing on what I truly love about bicycles; the practicality, the beauty, and the limitless possibilities for adventure on a bike. I don’t think there is another mode of transportation as efficient, versatile, and as fun as the simple pleasure of riding a bike. Walking, running, skateboarding, riding a horse, cross-country skiing, you name it, nothing beats a bike.

The promise of Bicycle Times is that it is inclusive of all, and a celebration of bicycling. It doesn’t matter if you’re a roadie squid, or an urban hipster wearing too-tight jeans on a fixie, or a mom on a bike path riding with her kids, or an electrical engineer on a recumbent (that’s right, they’re included too), or a knuckle-dragging mountain biker on a 6-inch travel rig, or a couple on their tandem touring the U.S. It’s about all bikes and the people who live to ride them.

Looking outside at the single-digit temperature with the snow and ice, I know I haven’t been on my bike as much as I’d like. It doesn’t get me down. It doesn’t make me want to ride on rollers or go to the gym or take a spinning class. It makes me want to get studded tires for my bike.

I had great plans and ambition yesterday morning to take on the snow, well more ice than snow, that pelted our city over the last few days and ride to the other side of town on Dirt Rag official business. I dug out my studded Kenda Klondike tires, mounted them to my wheels, and gave my Surly Cross-Check a “quick” once over. Commuting in the salty slush is murder on the chain and drive components, and mine was in need of a serious lube concoction. I’m kind of lazy about maintaining my commuter and the night before it sounded awful. The chain was skipping gears like a delinquent cuts classes at high school. (I know nothing about that).

I dripped some degreaser on the chain, wiped it with an old shirt, and lubed the links. I spun the rear wheel, realized I forgot to true it again, and held the same rag against the rim for a brake surface cleaning. I really wasn’t in the mood for thoroughness, but I may even have wiped the pulley wheels and the chain rings. It’s nasty out anyway.

Suited up and set to go I clipped in and rolled slowly on to the sheet of ice that’s my street. Once I made it to a main road the pavement was only wet. Piles of slushy-frozenness lined the lane and I began to wonder why I even bothered with these sluggish studded tires that grip the pavement and sound like Velcro being ripped apart as they roll. Then I thought about how much lighter and quicker my other tires will feel when I put them back on, so I let it go and grinded on.

Half way to my destination I cut down a few back streets to get to the cycling path that leads to a pedestrian bridge, which would put me on the other side of the river. I remembered conversations around the office of how the city never plows the bridge and prepared for it to be snow covered. As soon as I turned off the road though I realized that the bike trail cutting through the park, short neighborhood section, rail-to-trail, and the pedestrian bridge were all covered in 2-inches of ice. The city did plow it this year, they just didn’t treat this mile and a half with salt afterward. One hundred carbon studs per tire. Perfect! Let’s see what they can do. (I only used them once last year).

I’ll have to say that I wasn’t being as cautious as I should have been, until I nearly wiped out. Thereafter, I checked my speed and went light on the drop bars. It was kind of fun in a way, to learn how to ride without the bike shooting out from under me. I had to let the bike dance where it wanted to, to roll over the frozen boot prints and random shapes locked in ice. Going up the ramp to get on the bridge wasn’t bad, but 90° turning had me guiding the bike with my weight.

Once on the bridge I saw the only other two people out crossing the bridge on foot, and with difficulty. The ice just shined as a gusty wind rolled down the river and over the ice. Slow and steady got me to the other side and I had still managed not to fall. A series of two U-turns comprises the exit ramp and I thought this is going to suck. I managed to navigate them as well and made it back home taking the same route without falling. I guess studded tires to work.

I was still bitter there would be no 2009 Turnpike Super Bowl, but I shook the weak hangover from the Eagles and Steelers games the night before, and shared one last round of goodbyes with the in-laws. It was time for me to head back home to pack the last few things and put the last bike into storage. We’re moving out of the country for a couple years. Friends, family, comfort and familiarity are being left behind in favor of the prospect of adventure in a new land and all that comes with it.

I’ve done this drive at least 100 times, but I was sort of bored and wanted my new GPS guide me home from south Jersey. Within about five miles, the comforting (yet creepy) woman’s voice on the TomTom directed me to turn off my known path. Before I knew it I was about to cross the Betsy Ross Bridge, which spans the Delaware River and dumps you out on I-95 up around north Philly somewhere.

I’ve lived in the Philadelphia area for more than ten years, and I’ve never found myself crossing the Betsy Ross. It’s not that I’ve avoided it, but I just never really had a reason to cross it. To me, it was just the name of a structure mentioned in the traffic reports on the radio. Only thirty minutes into this new route, and I’d already found something different…and sort of exciting.

Philadelphia is known for having thousands of amazing murals on the sides of buildings. There are books about them, and all sorts of organized tours guide people all around the city to view them. I’ve seen a lot of them in my twelve years in and around town. My particular favorite is the four-story portrait of ex-mayor and South Philly hero Frank Rizzo. As I made my way down 95 towards 676, right before Center City I caught a glimpse of a mural while having one eye on the GPS making sure it really knew where it was taking me.

But then I did a double-take on the mural. Yep…there was definitely bicycle componentry in that mural. I slowed down as much as someone could on I-95 without becoming the subject of one of those traffic reports on the radio. I’d never seen this bright block-wide mural before, and that fact set my mind reeling for the next thirty minutes of my drive home.

I like to think that I thrive on exploration, learning and adventure, and that it comes easy. But it’s funny how and where we sometimes find the catalyst for such things. It’s also odd how we can become complacent and think adventure can be found in foreign lands, when it can easily be found right here with just a little effort.