Legs like the cowardly lion---our time at the front

The CycleLogik B-squad group ride. Its a Saturday institution. I've been five times now and I really enjoy it---good folks, put on defacto by the West Quebec Wheelers who are hella awesome. What's great about CycleLogik is that they are a coffee bar and I get to watch Formula One racing on their TV before the ride.

My time at the camera-weilding front, forshortened by a puncture.

The key of good espresso is to not pull the shot too long. Don't put all the water through the grinds. Only the first bit is any good. Watch carefully.

I started the ride with legs like the scarecrow---full of hay, but they had the lion's true courage on the climb.

Yes, lets dance.

Seckel Pear in the Jersey

La Lissa brought home some jars. It must be August. Canning begins. Apricots first.

I opted for a ride in the Gatineaus. 

After mashing out the Fortune climb I settled on the slow route to the Champlain lookout.

I brought these little pears with me, gotten at the Farmers Market. Most durable fruits are too big (except kumquats!) to fit in a jersey pocket. I tire of bananas---and they are only borderline durable anyway. Little fruit like this is often termed Lady Pears, or analogously Lady Apples. I think these are also called Seckel Pears as well, or so the internet says. 

I've been riding a lot lately and I'm on the verge of sore everyday. Today there were moments of lucidity in my legs up the Fortune climb. Not fast per se, but an efficient pace, but that all fell apart on the descent. I could have brought five more pears with me. 

Square Taper

Square taper bottom brackets. There is something great about them; a distinctive feel when you tighten the crank bolt. As the bolt turns, you expect the wrench torque to increase hugely as the bolt seats on the crank, but counteracting force only increases linearly as the crank relents and slides up the tapered axle. After a few more turns the correct foot-pound is reached and you're done.

You can feel the same thing every time you put force on the pedal. Old style cranks and BBs flex like a spring, accepting your energy every stroke, and then giving nearly all the energy back as the pedal follows through. Newer crank/BBs have a strange quasi stiffness: more flex to the frame, and some to the drive train.

I'm in overhaul mode on my bikes. My soon-to-come mountain bike stole my commuter rig's crank and I'm replacing it with this beauty

given to me by Pete. Thanks Pete! And a full-service overhaul

Square taper, fat chains and single cogs. It'l be around forever, every day, to get home from work.

Trans Outaouais

On a Quebec Summer day, one could ride from one little town to the next to the on the sustenance Poutine trucks. After crossing the Ottawa river by Ferry to Quyon, I stopped at one truck for some fries. I can't bring myself to eat Poutine from a truck. Its not real gravy, and the idea of gravy on fries is gross anyway. And its a Hot Summer, and hot gross gravy on hot fries... I don't get it, but it was 90+ degrees with humidity and folks were lining up for it. I ended up throwing my fries out, downing my coke, and pedalling on.

Just play this while you read.

Quyon was rocking. The Country Jam Fest was going on. I wanted to stop, but its always rush rush rush with me...

Quyon's claim to fame is that Elvis once played there, which leads me to ask how to say 'you ain't nothin' but a hound dog' in French. Google translate gives 'vous n'est pas rien, mais un chien de chasse'. Not bad. Which reminds me that I was tempted to get une chien chaud avec mon frites. But again, it was too hot and truck food is sketchy.

Further up from Quyon the dirt roads start, then on to Lac des Loups.

I stopped into Wakefield for a sandwich, then home to Ottawa. The total was 98 miles, 10 of them washboarded gravel, one ferry ride, and two flat tires (not on gravel), and two lunch stops, all in 7 and a half hours. My legs feel good today, way better than when I did this ride last year. I'll try to get much shorter ride in Sunday when it cools down.

Trans Outaouais

On a Quebec Summer day, one could ride from one little town to the next to the on the sustenance Poutine trucks. After crossing the Ottawa river by Ferry to Quyon, I stopped at one truck for some fries. I can't bring myself to eat Poutine from a truck. Its not real gravy, and the idea of gravy on fries is gross anyway. And its a Hot Summer, and hot gross gravy on hot fries... I don't get it, but it was 90+ degrees with humidity and folks were lining up for it. I ended up throwing my fries out, downing my coke, and pedalling on.

Just play this while you read.

Quyon was rocking. The Country Jam Fest was going on. I wanted to stop, but its always rush rush rush with me...

Quyon's claim to fame is that Elvis once played there, which leads me to ask how to say 'you ain't nothin' but a hound dog' in French. Google translate gives 'vous n'est pas rien, mais un chien de chasse'. Not bad. Which reminds me that I was tempted to get une chien chaud avec mon frites. But again, it was too hot and truck food is sketchy.

Further up from Quyon the dirt roads start, then on to Lac des Loups.

I stopped into Wakefield for a sandwich, then home to Ottawa. The total was 98 miles, 10 of them washboarded gravel, one ferry ride, and two flat tires (not on gravel), and two lunch stops, all in 7 and a half hours. My legs feel good today, way better than when I did this ride last year. I'll try to get much shorter ride in Sunday when it cools down.