Elk Island 200

 

“Bison don’t like bicycles.” These are the ominous words in my head, spoken to me last summer by a National Park ranger. Val and Penn and I are staring down a gaggle of shaggy bison in the middle of the only road through Elk Island National Park, 60 km east of Edmonton. We stand there, the bison and the bicyclists, sizing each other up for a good 10 minutes. The two sides quickly reach the same conclusion: bison are enormous; humans, not so much. 

The Land of the Bicycle Worshippers

The bicycle holds a special place in the hearts and chakras of Hornby Islanders. In my meanderings around this exquisite gulf island (north of Nanaimo, British Columbia), I’ve been struck by not only how many bikes I see being ridden (it’s a small island, perfect for getting around by bicycle), but also how many bikes I see displayed as works of art and, possibly, something more.

Cino! Cino! Cino!

We’re in. It’s official. The Dusty Musette squad is heading over the border. We’ve made the cut for this year’s Cino Heroica, near Kalispell, Montana, on September 7-8. As I explained a few weeks back, the Cino is a cycling event (more than a race) that pays homage to the Euro cycle racers of old, especially the heroes of Italian gravel-road racing from about the 1940s to the 1980s.

Participants must ride an “heroic bike” (pre-1986, steel frame, down-tube shifters, etc.) on some gravel back-roads over the course of two days. There will be heroic provisions: salami, baguettes, cigarettes, wine, and hot springs. Riders are also encouraged to dress in heroic fashion, a la Gino Bartali, Fausto Coppi, and Eddy Merckx.

Gravel du Jour: Manitoba White

I call this stuff Manitoba White, a kind of pale, chalky gravel common in southern Manitoba, where I visit each summer. I’m guessing it consists of some kind of post-glacial limestone mixed with a dash of petrified Mososaur bones. (You can’t hardly stick a shovel in the ground there without hitting dinosaur detritus.) I`m adding this one to the Gravel Glossary, likely the first of a bunch of regional gravels.

Code of the Semi-Serious Cyclist: Part 9 (Strava)

The SSC doesn’t have a Strava. Doesn’t need one. Doesn’t want one.

Strava, which means “screen junkie” in Norwegian, is all the rage in serious cycling circles these days. The program, of course, works with a GPS device such as a Garmin or smartphone, to provide mapping, tracking, and statistics of a person’s rides. When passing by certain popular ride areas or “segments,” Strava users can compare their times against other Strava-ists. The best time for each segment wins the “King/Queen of the Mountain” or KOM/QOM designation. Strava users can also post comments on others’ performances.

Tour of the Anatomy

Check out my skinny cyclist arms.

Hard to believe these belong to a 46-year-old man, I know. Over the years, friends and strangers alike have observed that I’ve got the forearms of a 12-year-old girl, the wrists of a child. Finding a manly watchband that fits has always been a challenge. I admit that for several years I actually wore a lady’s Timex, its little pink button sending out unintended signals, because it was the only watch I could find —apart from kids’ watches—that fit me. Most men’s watches, with their over-sized faces, look absurd on me.

The Tour Is Won on the Alpe

Like many fans of the Tour de France, I long ago circled July 18 on the calendar as a stage in this year’s race not to be missed. That’s Alpe d’Huez day, when for the first time in Tour history, riders will climb the legendary mountain twice in the same stage, with the stage finish at the summit of the second ascent. (The Alpe was featured twice in in the 1979 route, but on two different days.) This intriguing race route  factoid prompted me to pick up The Tour Is Won on the Alpe (2008) by French journalist Jean-Paul Vespini. (The book was translated by American cycling historian David Herlihy.)

As Tour de France fans know, the Alpe d’Huez is one of a handful of mountain climbs—along with Mont Ventoux and the Col de Tourmalet—that has an iconic status in the Tour de France. The punishing 21-switchback ascent first appeared on the Tour route in 1952; then not again until 1976; since then it has been included almost every year. Because it is such a difficult ascent, the Alpe has been the site of some great Tour de France drama over the years. Many champions, from Fausto Coppi to Bernard Hinault to Miguel Indurain to Lance Armstrong, have taken command of the race on the slopes of the Alpe. As Vespini puts it, “It is a climb that delivers a verdict—absolute, impartial, and final.”

Range Roadies

We are the Range Roadies

We roll the township lines

We rule the rural grid

We pee in range road ditches.

We are the Range Roadies, and we eat gravel for breakfast.

Pit Stops: Fort Edmonton Footbridge

An old shot of the FEF, before the water came up.

It’s hard not to think about water here in Alberta this week, what with the crazy flooding in the southern part of the province. In Edmonton, where I live, we’ve been spared the worst, but the river is as high as I’ve ever seen it. The other day I went out for a spin through the river valley so I could get a good look at the brown torrent we call the North Saskatchewan, and I ended up at one of my favorite hangouts, the Fort Edmonton Footbridge (FEF).