Bikes, Trains, Sailboats

After months of deliberation and procrastination, we've finally done it: Traveled by train with our bikes. For a while now we have wanted to cycle around Cape Ann, which is a beautiful area about 40 miles North of Boston - accessible by the MBTA Commuter Rail via the Rockport line. A number of people we know have taken this trip with their bikes, so it seemed doable. Also, I was delighted to spot the following notice on the MBTA website: "Commuter Rail re-introduces The Bike Coach on the Rockport line for the summer season." Bike coach! No other information was provided, so I did some research. Turns out they have commuter trains with special cars dedicated entirely to bikes - with bike racks as far as the eye can see, like this. But I could not find any information regarding its schedule, and it seemed that only some weekend trains were Bike Coach trains. A call to the MBTA was fruitless, so we decided to just show up and hope for the best.

The commuter train to Cape Ann leaves from North Station, a 3.25 mile bike ride from our house through some of the busiest parts of Boston. I don't like cycling through the city on a roadbike, but on a Saturday morning the traffic wasn't bad. We arrived early, which was good as there was a line at the ticket machines. There were plenty of other people with bicycles. When our train arrived, the conductor came out and announced that all those with bikes must proceed to the first car of the train. Only those with bikes were allowed in that car. Only those without bikes were allowed in the other cars. The segregation gave us hope that this was the fabled Bike Coach, and we happily headed for the front car along with the procession of other cyclists. 

What happened next was rather stunning. The car we were ushered into had no accommodations for bikes what so ever - just a small corner of space at one end where a couple of handicapped seats had been removed. This was definitely not the Bike Coach. Nonetheless, everybody proceeded to drag their bikes on the train - more and more of them, until not only this corner, but the entire aisle was filled with bikes. When even that space ran out, new passengers began to pile their bikes on top of other bikes. Loud clunking noises filled the train as tubes smashed against derailleurs. 

Not wanting our bikes damaged in the velo moshpit that ensued, we found a seat near the exit and sort of held our bikes on our laps the entire time. As you might imagine, it was uncomfortable to sit that way for an hour. But the alternative was to accept that a dozen 50lb mountain bikes would be thrown on top of our bicycles - which was not a viable option. So we tried to have a sense of humour about the whole thing and looked forward to reaching our destination while seriously discussing the possibility of Bromptons in the future. 

But no sooner had we reached Rockport than the train trauma was forgotten, as we were greeted with perfect weather and glorious coastal views. 

The Cape Ann peninsula consists of Rockport, Annisquam Village and Gloucester - each of them with beautiful scenery. Severed from the mainland by the winding Annisquam River, water views are everywhere. This was our first time in the area and we decided to do an exploratory loop along the coastline instead of a long-distance trip. The Cape Ann loop is about 20 miles, with mild but constant rolling hills, alternating between open water views and tree lined country roads. Especially considering the 4th of July weekend, the area was not crowded. Drivers were courteous everywhere except for the traffic circle in Gloucester, but even that was not too bad. Roads were good on the eastern side of the cape, but terrible on the western side. Navigation was intuitive - just follow the coastline! 

My Rivendell is in the midst of a small (but exciting) make-over, so I took the loaner Seven on this trip. Overall it was pretty good, though a burlier bike might have been a better choice on the pothole-ridden roads. We also ventured off road a bit, which was "interesting" on 23mm racing tires!

Cape Ann is even quieter and less commercially developed than we expected, a pleasant surprise. Lots of parks, meadows and nature reserves. Not too many parking lots. And "motel sprawl" is virtually non-existant - at least compared to places like Cape Cod, the NH Seacoast, and much of coastal Maine. 

Also, there are apparently sailboat races happening in Rockport - wonderful!

All in all, we loved the area and are now considering staying there for longer, instead of venturing further from home on vacation later this summer. After all - just load up our bikes on the commuter rail, it's so easy! Of course we'd forgotten about our train experience earlier that day. Or at least, we thought, there would surely not be as many bikes on the return trip. Or maybe we would finally get the mythical Bike Coach?

Nope, no such luck. On the return trip, passengers were once again segregated into those with bikes and those without, and this time the "bike car" had a car rack attached in the handicapped seating area. It accommodated 4-5 bikes, tightly squeezed, and was filled as soon as the train began to board.

Minutes later, that pathetic little bike rack was surrounded by dozens of other bikes, stacked and thrown against one another haphazardly. 

Exits were blocked, aisles were blocked - no one seemed to care. When passengers with bikes needed to get on or off, they would simply throw the other bikes out of the way and the whole thing was like one huge pile of scrap metal. So we held our bikes on our laps again - hugging them ever closer to our bodies as other passengers kept trying to pile their bikes on top of ours (yes, even while we were holding our bikes on our laps!). It was a madhouse and probably violated all sorts of safety regulations. The MBTA clearly needs to have these alleged Bike Coach cars run with more frequency and on a predictable schedule. As we now understand it, the schedule is random and there is no way to time your trip to ensure that you will get a Bike Coach. Sounds improbable, but that's how it is!

Late in the evening, we rode home from the station along mostly empty city streets, recuperating from the train but also satiated from a day of exploring such a beautiful new place by bicycle. We only cycled 30 miles over all, and the point of the trip was mainly to hang out and get to know the area. Next time we will plan for a longer route. The North Shore is a great starting point for long distance touring: While there is no pleasant bicycle route North out of Boston, from Cape Ann we could just continue to cycle along the coast to Maine. Definitely something to consider, despite the less than ideal commuter rail experience.

What is it like to travel on a train with a bike where you live, and do you do it often?

The Surly Cross Check Review: a Colourful Build and a Fender Massage

Two months ago, the Co-Habitant got a Surly Cross Check frame that he wanted to build up as a fun on/off road bike around a touring wheelset with fat tires that we already had in our possession. He is getting a nice roadbike later this summer (waiting for the frame to be finished!), and the Surly was meant to be "the other bike" - a playful, go-anywhere bike built around an inexpensive frame, mostly using components we already had. He swiftly put the bike together and has now cycled about 500 miles on it. The Cross Check is technically a cyclocross frame, but it is versatile and can also be used for touring and commuting. Given its unusual build, we've had many questions about this bike and so I offer a review on the Co-Habitant's behalf.

The most noteworthy aspect of the build, is that we were able to fit the frame with Schwalbe Fat Frank tires and metal fenders. This looks great, and the tires feel awesome, but to tell the truth the whole thing was a pain. The Cross Check is described as being able to fit tires up to 45mm with fenders, but the Fat Franks are 50mm. It was a tight fit that required some DIY. Initially we wanted to use Berthoud steel fenders, which are available in 700Cx60mm, but the Co-Habitant was not impressed with their quality upon seeing them in person. He also dislikes plastic fenders and did not want to use SKS. In the end he decided to get the Velo Orange Zeppelin 700c x 52mm fenders (which are rated for 42mm tire), and "massage" them to fit.

Out of the box, the fenders were too tight: The edges touched the sides of the tires and there was not enough space under the brake bridge and behind the seat tube to mount them high. So, the fenders had to be opened up. But when you open up a fender that's 52mm, it no longer follows the line of a 700C tire, instead making the opening much smaller. So while opening the fender, it had to also be stretched out -  taking care not to crimp the edges. To do this, he used a flat low table holding the fender upside down against its surface and pressing down gently, rolling it end to end - opening and pressing down. Pressing down would close the fender and opening it would alter the curvature, so the back and forth balanced out the opposing forces.

For the front fender there was sufficient clearance underneath the fork crown, but in the rear there was less clearance - the brake bridge is quite low and the chainstays are short. He had to dent the top of the rear fender (which isn't visible) in order to get it closer to the brake bridge, then fabricate a custom circular-L-bracket to hold the fender in place, screwed into the eyelet of the brake bridge. To dent the fender, he placed it on some clothing on the top edge of the back of a chair, then hit it with a rubberized end of a pedal wrench, creating a grooved dimple. He also had to dent the ends so that they wouldn't pinch near the bottom bracket. It was a bit of an ordeal, and if you are going to attempt this beware that it is easy to ruin the fender - it may not be a risk worth taking.

Happily, the "massaging" was a success and the Cross-Check looks great with the fat cream tires and the VO Zeppelin fenders. The ride is fast and cushy, and the Co-Habitant is discovering just how addictive wide tires are. On the downside, the clearances between the tires and fenders are so tight, that the set-up is not really practical for serious off-road cycling: stuff can get caught in there and cause problems. But for fire trails and gravel paths it is fine, and if he decides to do anything more serious (like the D2R2!), he will remove the fenders.

The rest of the build for this bicycle has mostly already been described here, but a few changes have been made since then. The original shortish stem has been replaced with a 9cm stem, flipped upside down. The original yellow cloth tape got filthy and tattered fairly quickly, so we replaced it with Fizik tape. Initially, the cloth tape was supposed to be shellacked to a warm caramel - but the bright yellow looked so "right" on this bike, that it began to seem like an inherent part of its personality and he decided to keep it that way. He also added a frame pump, lamenting the lack of pump peg and using a strap to hold it in place.

After two years in a lukewarm relationship with his Brooks Flyer saddle, he decided to sell it and replace it with a Berthoud touring saddle - the male version of the one I now have on my Rivendell. So far he loves it.

He fitted the bike with the Carradice bag that used to be on his old bike.

It now has a patch on it, to cover the tear that happened as a result of the bag rubbing over the brake cable on his old bike.

He affixed a CatEye headlight to a braze-on on the front fork, and a Spanninga Pixeo tail light to the rear fender.

He tried to liberate himself from clipless pedals and rode the bike with touring pedals for a few weeks, but ultimately could not take it anymore and put his old clipless pedals back on. Fair enough, but this does limit the versatility he originally had in mind for the bike.

After riding the Surly Cross Check for two months, his main feedback is that the bike is faster than he expected - even with the wide tires and a bunch of weight in the saddlebag. While initially he intended to use the Cross Check in conjunction with his old Motobecane until he got his new roadbike, the Motobecane was retired as soon as he started riding the Surly - no need for it, since the Cross Check did everything it could do and more. He does not find the bike sluggish, and it seems that the tubing is just right for someone of his stature (6ft/ 200lb+). Overall, he is pretty happy. Though he likes lugs, he also likes a nicely done TIG-welded frame and the Surly suits him just fine.

My take on his Cross Check... I think it is a well-made, attractive frame for the price and I am glad that he finds it comfortable and fast. To be honest, I think that at least to some extent this build was not so much about practicality, as about doing a fun and challenging project using a bunch of components that we had acquired but had no use for. If the original purpose of the bike was off-road, then the tire+fender combo with such tight clearances does not really make sense. I have a feeling that he will end up using it mainly on the road, because I can't imagine him bothering to remove and reinstall the fenders every time he wants to take it on serious trails. And this means that when he gets his long-awaited road frame later this summer, the functionalities of the two bikes will overlap considerably. Not that there's anything wrong with that. But given how much he likes the Surly I am almost worried that he might be disappointed with the special bike he's waiting for. Well, hopefully not.

On a more general note, while the Cross Check is clearly versatile enough for commuting and touring, I wonder whether many cyclists actually use it for cyclocross racing. I have a hard time imagining that, given how relatively heavy it is - even the floor models with narrower tires and sportier components. But maybe I'm just biased from having handled too many lightweight bikes recently.

The Surly Cross Check is a fun bike with a cult following, and it is particularly impressive how customisable the frame is. With its happy colours, fat cream tires, elegant fenders and classic touring accessories, the Co-habitant's Cross Check is distinctly his own.

Riding the Pilen: a Multitude of Impressions

Since the Pilen give-away contest is happening before a final review will be published, I wanted to write up a separate post about its ride quality. It's funny that even though I should know better, I am still fooled into thinking that I "know" a bike based on the way it looks, and this was the case here. "A swan frame," I thought, "this will be just like my Austrian bike." But the Pilen is a completely different bicycle. Moreover, my impression of its ride quality differs from others' impressions, which apparently may be a factor of my size. But let me start from the beginning.

As described before, the bicycle is a 56/58cm frame with 700Cx50mm tires, which makes it a pretty large bicycle for a person my size. Since I am barely tall enough to ride it, I have the saddle almost all the way down. I also lowered the handlebars as much as I could. The bars are flared out quite a bit - almost placing the hands in a mountain bike style position - and having them set high felt unnatural. In the position shown, the saddle and handlebars feel more or less fine, though personally I prefer bars that are more swept back.

What I like best about the Pilen is its remarkable stability. Traditional Dutch bikes tend to have a light front end, which can make the steering feel difficult to control for those who are not used to it. Though I love the ride quality of Dutch bikes, I too remember being taken aback by the light steering when I first tried them. In comparison, the Pilen is extremely well balanced. It is a very easy bike to control and it handles predictably. I keep switching between the Pilen and my vintage Gazelle, and the Gazelle always feels shaky after the Pilen.

The wide, cushy Schwalbe Big Apple tires offer another advantage. Potholes or road shock of any kind are a non-issue; the bike just rolls over uneven terrain and I don't feel a thing.

The surprising downside for me when riding the Pilen, is my experience with speed and acceleration. I am finding this hard to put into words, but let me try: When I attempt to ride the bike at the speed I am accustomed to, it is as if I feel a resistance. I have to push harder in order to keep it going fast, and this puts a strain on my legs. My first thought was that the gearing must be too high, because it feels better to start it in 1st gear, whereas on my other 3-speeds I am fine starting in 2nd. However, as soon as I accelerate, not only do I quickly find it necessary to switch into 2nd, then 3rd gear, but I also soon begin to max out the 3rd gear. This makes no sense, because the Shimano hub used on the Pilen is not spaced any closer than the 3-speed hubs I use on my other bikes; I should not be running out of gears. Even more odd is that I feel the strain in my legs regardless of what gear I am in and how fast I am going. According to the Co-Habitant's computer, I did manage to get the Pilen up to 17mph. But this was more effortful than on my other upright 3-speed bikes.

I shared these impressions with Todd of Clever Cycles - who is one of the North American retailers stocking these bikes and therefore has experience with them. Todd suggested it was possible that the bike is "overbuilt" for me - meaning that the tubing and the wheels are specced with a rider larger and heavier than me in mind. Though I have heard the "overbuilt" theory before (mainly when it comes to Surly bikes - which also seem to be best enjoyed by heavier riders), to be honest I found the idea improbable. I thought it was more likely that I needed to keep playing with the saddle and handlebar positions, or change the rear cog after all.

Then something happened to suggest that Todd may be on to something: A woman who is taller and heavier than me was over for a visit, and she wanted to try the Pilen. She did, and she absolutely loved it. She called it zippy and fast. She asked me what I thought of the bike, and I told her my honest impressions, but her impressions were totally different. She is not a stronger cyclist than I am. But the Pilens's size seemed just right for her and she looked a lot more natural on the bike than I do. She has tried a lot of other bikes at this point, including several Dutch bikes and the Rivendell Betty Foy, so she does have a solid basis for comparison. She preferred the Pilen's ride quality to all of these.

Now I was seriously intrigued. I asked the Co-Habitant to ride the Pilen. He is just over 6' tall and weighs over 200lb. He raised the saddle and took the bike for a spin. He loved it and wanted to keep riding it. He thought it was nimble and a bit faster than his Pashley Roadster. He loved the cushy tires. He could not relate to my feedback at all and did not sense anything odd about the gearing.

Next I took the Pilen over to "cycler," of Biking in Heels. She and I are roughly the same height and weight. She loved the looks of the bike (as do I), but found the ride quality odd. Without my having said anything in advance, she had similar things to say about the gearing feeling too closely spaced as I have expressed above. She also found the "cockpit" configuration to feel unnatural compared to her own upright bikes (a Raleigh Sports and several DL-1s).

At this point, I am not sure what to conclude, or whether it is even appropriate to make any conclusions. I've tried to describe things as they are. It seems likely that the bike is indeed built with taller and heavier riders in mind, and that it handles differently for those riders. I cannot say via direct experience, as I can't magically enlarge myself and try it both ways. The two heavier persons who have test-ridden the Pilen in my presence were enthusiastic with their feedback, and witnessing this makes it clear that sometimes it is a matter of matching up the right bike with the right owner. Your thoughts on this are welcome. Have you felt that some bikes were overbuilt or underbuilt for your body type?

I am Curious, Yellow

Obscure film references aside, the past week for me has been dominated by equal parts anticipation and anxiety. I've ridden my loaner roadbike for 120 miles in preparation for the next paceline ride... which, ironically, was cancelled for the second time in a row due to rain. The more time passes, the more my anticipation builds and the more exaggerated my anxieties become.

The Co-Habitant and I did two fast-paced, hilly rides over the weekend - he on his Surly Cross Check and I on the borrowed Seven. We went over the same hills where he has previously passed me nonchalantly regardless of which bikes we were both riding... only this time our positions were reversed dramatically. I shot past him while exerting little effort, continued to merrily cycle uphill, and then waited for him to catch up as I sipped water and sniffed flowers.

Of course we expected that a racy roadbike would be faster than a heavier and more relaxed cyclocross bike with wide tires and a saddlebag. But since he is a stronger cyclist than I am to begin with, I thought that the discrepancy would level the playing field between us. Neither of us thought that it would make me this much faster uphill.

The interesting thing is that on downhills and flats there was not much difference between us; it was uphill that the bike really began to matter. This parallels my experience of the paceline ride on my Rivendell, where it was specifically on the uphill portions that I felt a disadvantage to the others.

But while I am now confident in the bike's climbing ability, this is tempered by a fear not only of its speed on descents, but also of my relative unfamiliarity with its handling. After putting nearly 2,000 miles on my Rivendell I pretty much know how it behaves across a wide range of situations. The 120 miles on the Seven are just not sufficient for that kind of comfort to develop. I don't mind admitting that I'm plain scared when riding it at 25mph+ downhill - scared of the narrow tires, scared of the carbon fork, and scared of its precise but aggressive cornering. The fear saps away my confidence, making me squeeze the brakes and cycle more conservatively than I am capable of.

Being 100% comfortable with a bicycle is not something I can force; it takes time. My curiosity is a strong motivator to keep riding and practicing, specifically seeking out those situations that still make me nervous.

While the bike is in my possession I've fitted it with my own saddle, which has made it more comfortable to ride long distances. I've also installed my pedals (the narrow MKS Streams) and PowerGrips. This looks silly on a bike that is typically ridden clipless, but I don't care: I need to ride it in a way that makes me comfortable. I've also now raised the saddle another 5mm from how it's shown in this picture, which almost makes it look like the standover is not too high. Almost. The length of the toptube and the handlebar set-up work well for me (the Ride Studio Cafe matched the configuration to one of my own bikes) and it's only the seat tube height that's off. The result is that the bike fits me extremely well when I am riding it, but looks too big when I am not. Ideally, the frame would have the same virtual top tube length, with the actual top tube just a little bit sloped in order to reduce standover. Given the available demo models I prefer this set-up over a smaller frame, because I don't like toe overlap. All in all I feel good on this bike, which is what matters.

I really hope they don't cancel the paceline ride next week; the anticipation is getting ridiculous. In the meantime, all I can do is keep riding.

On Sentimentality and Retiring Old Bikes

When we got the Co-Habitant's Surly Cross-Check frame, it was supposed to be an off-road-capable supplement to his vintage roadbike, not a replacement. But after he built up the Surly and took it on several rides, the old Motobecane was soon put away. We had expected that the modern cross bike with wide tires would be more comfortable, but slower and less agile than the vintage roadbike. Instead, it is more comfortable in addition to being just as agile and also faster - not to mention more stable and entirely lacking in shimmy on descents. 

The Co-Habitant is a wee bit disillusioned in vintage bikes at the moment. All the lugs and "patina" in the world are not worth it to him, if a reasonably priced, good quality new TIG-welded frame fitted with decent components offers a better ride. That is not to say that a mass produced mid-tier Motobecane from 1976 represents all vintage bikes. But sometimes experimenting with vintage until you find a good frame can be more expensive than buying new.

Nonetheless, "Myles" the Motobecane was the first roadbike he'd ridden as an adult, and the one and only roadbike he's been riding for the past two years. It was old and crusty and we made it beautiful. It was rickety and we updated it with nicer components. That bike got him through multiple trips to Maine and Cape Cod just fine, before he knew that "just fine" could feel even better. It seems almost a betrayal to get rid of it so unceremoniously.

We've considered turning the Motobecane into a beater city bike, but that idea was eventually dismissed. Ultimately, he likes wide tires and stable handling for city riding, and a twitchy 1970s French roadbike is just not his idea of a good time in our pothole-ridden neighbourhood. Fair enough.

So, what to do with a retired bike? One option is to sell it as a complete bicycle. The other option is to strip all the good components, keep them for future projects or trades, and sell just the frame. In the past, we've always gone with the former, even though financially it makes less sense. This time we are considering the latter, but ultimately still leaning toward the former out of sheer sentimentality - if Myles is kept intact, at least he would still be "alive." But of course that's ridiculous.

Later in the summer I will face a similar dilemma with my vintage Moser fixed gear conversion. It feels too small. But more importantly, despite having been reassured about the low bottom bracket issue I've now actually experienced pedal strike on this bike and that's enough to convince me that I need a fixed-gear specific road frame. In the case of the Moser, I plan to move its wheelset and some of the other components to the new frame when I get it, and just hang on to the Moser frame as a keepsake. I got in in Austria and the memories associated with it are worth more to me than whatever money I could get for the frame. Maybe some time later I will give it away to a friend as a gift, but I just don't feel that it's sellable.

What do you do with bicycles that you replace or retire? Does sentimental attachment get in the way of reason?

First Group Ride!

Yesterday, I went on my first group ride. Yes, there were only three of us and we're all friends. But those who were reading this blog last summer understand what an accomplishment this is for me.

Ever since I began to ride a roadbike, I've been whining about wanting to learn how to ride in a group... yet refusing to go on group rides. Yes, it was paradoxical. But you see, I wanted to learn the skills of riding in a group, while at the same time being afraid of it - convinced that I would perish in a high speed crash, images of the most gruesome bicycle race pile-ups flashing through my mind. I toyed with the idea of joining the women's training rides offered by a local cycling team, but ultimately the entire summer passed and I did not do it - opting for solitary rides and occasional rides with the Co-Habitant instead. I had to be coaxed into joining yesterday's ride, and I did try to back out as usual... but in the end something just clicked in my head and I went. And I'm very glad. Yes, I know you told me so!

My cycling partners were the Co-Habitant on his nearly-finished Surly Cross-Check (notice the fenders!) and our neighbour Somervillain on his vintage 650B conversion.

I was on my Rivendell Sam Hillborne. How happy he was to be out amidst the cherry blossoms!

Though we were riding different bikes, the aesthetic was amusingly similar. We all had candy-coloured frames with fat tires, cantilever brakes, aluminum fenders, leather saddles, classic bar wrap, and even twined water bottles. All three of us were also wearing wool. We looked like a team of eccentric bicycle obsessionists. The plan was to go on a roughly 40 mile loop - starting on the Minuteman Trail, then going through the hilly parts of Lexington, and arriving in Concord, MA - where we would stop before returning along a similar route.

Any nervousness I had about the ride dissipated as soon as the three of us set off in city traffic on the way to the Minuteman Trail. I expected this to be stressful - keeping pace with the others while paying attention to cars and negotiating treacherous intersections - but instead it was easy. Easier than cycling in traffic alone and easier than cycling in traffic with just the Co-Habitant. I still need to think this through in order to understand why, but possibly because three cyclists really do constitute a group in the eyes of motorists and are thus given more space. Maybe. Whatever the reason, it was great.

For the first part of our ride, we went in an unchanging single file procession - with the Co-Habitant first, Somervillain second, and me last. We cycled fairly closely behind one another, which I did not find problematic. It took me some time to get used to the rhythm with which Somervillain started from a stop, and to time my own starts the same way so that I wouldn't run into him. But otherwise, it was all very intuitive. I did not have trouble pacing myself to maintain the same speed consistently. And I also liked it that they hand-signaled every move they would make on the road. When we cycle alone, the Co-Habitant and I don't do this - which sometimes results in miscommunication.

We went along the Minuteman Trail at 14-16mph, then headed for the hills in Lexington. We've had an especially long winter and rainy spring this year, and I had not done major hills like this since last Fall. I was physically unprepared for them. I also forgot how steep and long this one particular hill was. We began climbing it, and almost immediately I was spinning in a low gear and my speed dropped to 7mph. I just couldn't do any better. It was at this point that we dispersed, so that the stronger riders would not lose momentum. Somervillain took off uphill and the Co-Habitant followed him at a slower pace, but still faster than me. I eventually made it, but the climb was such a huge shock to my system that even the downhill decent that followed made me unable to catch up with them. As soon as the distance between us decreased, came another uphill and I would lose them again. While I found this frustrating, I also appreciated having a true sense of the differences in our abilities. And I certainly preferred them going ahead to slowing down for me - that would have made me feel excruciatingly self-conscious.  We cycled over a series of hills in a similar style - the distance between us decreasing on the descent, then increasing again on the ascent - until finally the elevation changes lessened and we were able to cycle in a single file again. I did not have trouble keeping up on flats and mild hills, so that was a relief. The day had been beautiful and sunny up until then, but now it started to rain, which was a relief as well. The raindrops cooled me down.

We stopped in the Concord town center to have lunch and coffee. The sun came out again by then, and the small town looked ridiculously picturesque - blue skies, green grass and cherry blossoms everywhere.

We filled up our water bottles.

And Somervillain showed us his clever iphone-charging system.

The socket is built into the light mount and derives its power from the dynamo hub. He made it himself. I don't own an iphone, but still want this on my bike!

At some point in the course of the ride, the Co-Habitant's brakes suddenly became stronger, solving his brake dilema. Looks like they just needed to wear in.

My writing skills are not strong enough to make the canti-comparison conversation that followed sound interesting, but I'll show you Somervillain's Mafac brakes.

And my Tektro brakes.  After a thorough examination of my bike, we may now have a diagnosis for my complaint about the drivetrain fussiness: bent derailleur hanger, possibly. So I will have to take care of that.

After the town center, we cycled a bit further and stopped by Walden Pond.

Even with lots of people there on a Sunday, it is still such a quiet, meditative place.

We chose a slightly less hilly route home, and the return part of our loop was more casual. We switched places in line frequently, and at times cycled in a cluster instead of a procession - all of which I was fine with. I got a sudden burst of energy on the way back and did not feel tired.

It is fair to conclude that my first group ride was a success. I enjoyed cycling in a procession at a controlled speed, and I did not have problems riding in close proximity to the others. I guess my sense of incompetence in this respect was exaggerated. The losing them on hills aspect I will have to work on, but I think it is to be expected given the differences in physical strength between us.

I looked up the schedule for the women's training rides this summer, and the first one of the season is this Tuesday - tomorrow! Before I lose my nerve, I think I need to just force myself to show up. Will make my best effort - now off to shop for a certain required accessory!