It’s time for me to leave Montreal and Quebec. On Moving Day, July 1, our lease ended and soon I’ll be moving to Madison (Wisc.). As a proper way of saying goodbye I wanted to do one last long ride through some of my favorite parts of the greater Montreal region. My previous plan, riding the Corridor Aerobique trail, turned out to be too complicated logistically. Instead I planned a route based on a ride I did last fall, modified in a way that would make it doable from and to the de la Concorde metro station in Laval. In addition I also wanted to avoid some of the really bad gravel sections I encountered last time. For reasons unbeknownst to me, I am in good shape this year, and so the projected length and elevation gain—250 kilometers and 2500 meters—of the ride didn’t scare me too much. Just in case, I also considered leaving early enough in order to have the option to bail by taking the last train back from Saint-Jerôme. But as per usual, I was too tired to get my stuff together the night before and didn’t get up early enough to catch the first metro. I still got out of the station in Laval at quarter past seven, heading north on the bike path. I know the route to Saint-Jerôme quite well, and so I set up the GPS track I had transferred to my device late last night only while already on the bike. Or had I transferred it? Apparently not, as only the second half of the ride appeared on my Etrex! I realized that I had exhausted the device’s small memory for track files. Oh well, after some consideration I figured that because I had done a good part of the first half on last fall’s ride, I should be able to make it work. During the first few hours of the ride I didn’t feel too great and also had to stop for nature breaks at a ridiculous frequency. Once in Saint-Jerôme it was time to get off the P’tit Train du Nord trail and follow Highway 333 into the mountains. This road was new to me, and it turned out to have a lot of traffic and a mediocre shoulder. The landscape, on the other hand, turned increasingly pretty: The typical Laurentian mix of lakes and wooded hills. In Saint-Hyppolite, about 55 kilometers into the ride, I met up with my previous route and also left the busy highway. Since I knew that the services for the next stretch of the route would be limited I also made a quick stop at the small local supermarket. From here on a lot of the route profile could be described as a backroad rollercoaster: On quiet roads I would climb a steep incline for two or three minutes, zoom down again for maybe ten seconds, only to repeat the procedure over and over again. ...

My first and only Critical Mass (CM) until yesterday had been in Berlin, sometime around 2007 I think. It wasn't all exactly great: The police had a history of being assholes, leading to a low turnout and a confrontational atmosphere. In the cities I've lived in since there either were not CMs, or they had similar issues as the ones in Berlin. When I saw that there would be a CM in Stuttgart, I thought I'd give it another try. Because I currently live almost 50 kilometers from Stuttgart, I had to leave quite early to make it in time. The weather forecast predicted rain, but I was determined to go—and the rain never materialized anyway. When I arrived at the meeting point, it quickly became clear that this CM experience would be quite different. The crowd was way larger and it consisted of a quite different demographic. There were kids, there were lots of middle-aged and older folks, some of them on very fancy bikes, and the hipster-on-a-fixie ratio was pretty low.  The political situation and the attitudes of drivers apparently makes it necessary to not follow the principle of “CM is not a protest” but instead run the ride as a political manifestation with a fixed route and a police escort. The upside is that this reduces confrontations and makes the ride appealing to a wider audience; the downside is that it also reduces the spontaneity and led to constant stop-and-go when the police escort made us wait at many intersections.  It's hard to estimate how large the crowd was, but I guess it was well over 500, maybe even close to a 1000 people. Shaft drive bike completely wrapped in inner tubes... One of the few hipsters, or: me One of two awesome mobile soundsystems! Stuttgart is pretty hilly It's not Critical Mass if there aren't any tallbikes Approaching the Schwabtunnel connecting Stuttgart West and Stuttgart East It was nice riding on some roads that are usually off-limits to cyclists, including two tunnels and one of the main arterial going through Stuttgart. Corking worked pretty well and the amount of angry honks wasn't too bad. Making a U-turn and occupying both sides of the road At around 9:30 we reached our final destination, the warehouse of Fahrräder für Afrika, a charity that upcycles donated bikes and ships them to partner organizations in different African countries. Their shop is huge and literally has heaps of bikes in it! There was beer, music, pizza, and a presentation about biking in Copenhagen. All in all, I had a great experience, despite having to bike another 50 kilometers back home on my dad's bike that's way too small for me. Edit: Stuggi.tv had a nice segment (in German), too:

The Schwäbische Alp, in English known as the Swabian Jura, is a mountain range in the southwest of Germany, only a few kilometers from where my parents live. While the mountains are not particularly tall, they offer lots of punishing climbs, especially when leaving the paved roads and ride on the numerous gravel paths. My original plan had been to ride to Heubach, traversing a steep incline I found on the German quaeldich pass database, and then figuring out the return route as I went. On the way to the incline I took a familiar way to the Rems valley and then started a gentle climb up on a rail trail. The little connecting path from rail trail to a lower road offered a rare 30% incline warning sign. However, I’m fairly sure that that was greatly exaggerated. ...

I'm currently spending some time with my parents in the southwest of Germany. Yesterday my mum had a doctor's appointment in Bad Krozingen, giving me a couple hours to go riding in the Black Forest. On a tourist website I had found a suggestion for a "Black Forest Pass Tour," crossing over three ridges. The route was rated as difficult and also was a bit too long for me to make it back in time. Fortunately there was a link that would allow to cut short the route and do only two of the three passes. After some flat riding on the outer edges of the Rhine valley, the climbing began. I passed the former St. Ulrich's priory and made my way up the mountains on a road with good surface and surprisingly little traffic. Further up the hill I saw a sign that explained the latter fact: For motor vehicles this was a dead end; only local and non-motorized traffic was allowed to descent to Horben on the other side of the ridge. Switchbacks and cows It wasn't even that hot, but I was dripping with sweat Looking back down at St. Ulrich  Once I made it to the top, I was rewarded with a marvelous view in all directions, including a view of the Schauinsland mountain, my next destination. First, however, I got to reap the other reward for climbing: A fast descent on a narrow one-lane road. No through traffic  At the bottom of the descent was the base station of the aerial tram going up the Schauinsland. The sign on the road, announcing a 12% grade over 12 kilometers sounded a little scary, but it didn't feel nearly as steep. There were still signs and road stencils from the Schauinslandkönig, apparently Germany's largest mountain time trial, which had taken place just a day ago. The length of the climb—and the fact that I was wearing Birkenstocks with their flexible soles—made matters challenging.  But the low gearing of the MTB got me all the way up, and once again I was rewarded with great views. I turned off the main road and rode a few hundred meters to the upper station of the tram, which also offered a restaurant with a terrace. Because we had had to be on the road so early in order to make it to Bad Krozingen in time, I hadn't had anything to eat yet, just a double espresso at the clinic. I also hadn't brought a water bottle, and so I was very happy to snarf down a shandy (which in Germany is known as Radler or cyclist) and a bottle of fizzy water. Looking down towards Freiburg and the base station of the tram You can't see it on the pick, but people were waving and cheering at me  The temperatures up on the mountain were markedly cooler, and in my sweat-soaked state I didn't want to stay too long. View towards the Münstertal What followed now was a screaming descents into the Münster Valley. The road was narrow and full of sharp turns, and so I quickly got stuck behind a car. Awesomely, though, the driver soon pulled over and signaled me to pass. Thank you, unknown driver! Once in the valley, the rest of the ride was a gentle downhill all the way back to Bad Krozingen. What an awesome ride!

A leather saddle—at least in theory—should last a long time, and therefore I wanted to provide an follow-up to the two previous review posts about the Velo Orange Model 1 saddle. I've now ridden the saddle for about 2.5 years and 11 000 km. It has seen all kinds of use, from all-year everyday riding around town, multi-day loaded tours, and single-day rides of up to 200km. So has my previous, positive assessment changed since the July 2012 review? By and large: no. The main points still hold true. In summer of 2012 the saddle was already well broken in, but it has continued to slightly change its shape. The picture on the left shows the saddle in 2012, the one on the right in its current state. 2012: Broken-in 2014: Moar broken-in The asymmetry and “hammockiness” definitely have gotten more pronounced (even though the camera angle does distort things a bit). I haven't touched the tension screw yet and so far have no plans of doing so. The leather is still far away from the rails, the saddle is comfortable, and I'm an adherent of the school of thought that believes once you start turning the tension screw, you'll have to keep going until the saddle is dead. The saddle rails are still going strong and I have no reason to expect them to fail any time soon. But obviously one never knows ... The leather has aged very nicely. I try to be conscientious about covering the saddle in the rain but must admit that it has gotten wet more than once. And, ahem, I also sweat a lot in the parts that touch the saddle. After the initial treatment with Proofide I haven't done much to care for the leather, and this doesn't seem to have had any bad effects. There are a few spots, especially near the rivets and in the place where the saddle sometimes scrapes against the wall or other objects, where the leather looks worn and I'll apply some Proofide soon. Other than that the saddle actually looks better than when it was new. The surface texture and crinkliness I pointed out in earlier reviews has turned into a mostly smooth surface, as you can see in the pictures. 2014: Pretty shiny 2012: Still a little dull It is still not quite as shiny as my Brooks Swift and B17 Imperial, but the looks are definitely closer now than they were initially. The hammered rivets, made from stainless steel, haven't changed their appearance at all and are still flush with the leather. A minor advantage over my B17 Imperial is that the saddle is completely quiet, whereas the Brooks had phases of squeaking and clicking. What about the arguably most important characteristic of a saddle, comfort? Once again, there are no essential changes to report. The saddle continues to be comfortable, as evidenced by my ability to do 200km day rides or multi-day tours in relative comfort. As I've remarked previously, when riding without padded bike shorts it does make a difference which underwear I'm wearing. As long as the seams are in the right spot I can do up to 60km without issues; anything above that is better done in bike shorts. The center ridge may have gotten slightly more pronounced but still doesn't bother me at all. So to conclude, I do not regret buying the VO instead of a Brooks at all. I don't have anything negative to say about the saddle. If aesthetics are very high on your priority list, then maybe you should go for a Brooks instead. And if the center ridge negatively affects your comfort, you might want to consider going for a non-hammock saddle. Other than that you can't go wrong with the VO Model 1. Oh, there is the little problem that Velo Orange currently doesn't sell the saddle;but they have said that they “may bring it back eventually” and maybe this review will help with that.

Yesterday I rode what is one of my favorite routes in the Monteregie region south of Montreal.  After riding on the St. Lawrence Seaway dike and a short section through the suburbs on the South Shore, I headed south on this great road. Having been repaved only last year, it's super smooth and has almost no car traffic.  On one side of the road is a little river, on the other side agricultural lands and pretty little houses with old trees in front of them.  The wind turbines were spinning rather slowly today, with the wind seemingly changing direction all the time.  After a short stretch on highway 221 into Saint-Michel I was back on another long, straight, and quiet back road. Rue Principal ends at a T intersection, and once you turn left the asphalt soon turns into gravel.  With the 35mm tires on my Cross-Check this was pleasant to ride, and for kilometers the only other person I encountered was a farm worker on his MTB.  The soil here is rich and dark, forming a pretty contrast with the green tones of the freshly planted vegetables. The landscape is still all flat here, but in the distance one can see the foothills of the Adirondacks.  After the gravel section ends, the landscape turns from fields into a forest with lots of wild flowers lining the sides of the road. Last time I rode here the pavement was rather rough, but most of the road must have been repaved recently.  In Hemmingford, a charming little town, I stopped for lunch. There are several nice-looking restaurants and cafes there, but I just had my PB&K(imchi) sandwich and two 1.5l bottles of water on a bench in front of the town hall.  Just before the US border, the route now turns west towards Covey Hill. On Sundays there is quite a bit of tourist traffic on this road, but it's still not too bad. The road is a mix of little rollers and several long false flats. In the blistering noon sun this was quite draining.  But hey, the orchards, old churches, and stone walls along the way provide plenty of distraction.  The actual Covey Hill doesn't look like much from a distance, but the last bit up is quite steep, especially after having done all the previous false flat climbing. The compensation for the climbing comes with the gentle downhill on the other side of the hill, passing through green maple forest and crossing gurgling little streams. You can also catch a distant view of the Montreal skyline and Mont Royal (too distant for me to get a decent picture), but you have to pay attention, as most of the time trees are blocking the view in that direction. In Saint-Antoine-Abbé I had planned on having an espresso break at the local bakery, but unfortunately they are closed Sundays and Mondays. ??? No idea what this refers to  Heading northwest now, I passed through a distinctive landscape featuring flat rocks, little swamps, and stubby hard pine trees.  And an explosives factory.  Once I reached the Chateauguay River I saw an old railway bridge just a little bit down the road and decided to check if this was part of the bike trail I had read about earlier. And indeed it was. The trail wasn't finished yet, but the bridge was easily passable.  Now the route turn north and follows the Chateauguay River. Pretty much all car traffic happens on the other side of the river and I only had to share the road with the occasional motorcyclist and a few other cyclists. The visitor center of the Battle of the Chateauguay historic site appears to be permanently closed, but there are numerous informational markers along the road. Took me a while to realize that they were reusing the rear sides of other road signs... In Sainte-Martine I said goodbye to the river and headed towards Saint-Urbain-Premier. From here on the route can feel a little less awesome. However, that's not so much because it's actually bad, but more so because the other parts are so great. And maybe also because my behind started to get pretty sore... Back in Sainte-Catherine I made a quick stop at the kitschy shrine of the eponymous saint and decided that instead of taking the direct way home on the Seaway dike I'd stay on the South Shore and cross the St. Lawrence via the Jacques Cartier Bridge. This would add a few kilometers but avoid the risk of riding through the thick cloud of insects that is almost guaranteed to be around at this time of year and day on the dike. This turned out to be a good idea, as once I got to the little park on the de la Concorde bridge near the Old Port I encountered huge swarms of moths circling around the tree tops. Riding through this would not have been fun. In the end the ride clocked in at just under 200km. I highly recommend this route, and if 180km (this would be the length had I returned via the Seaway dike) are too long, one could also turn this into a two-day trip, as there are a few campgrounds near Hemmingford and Covey Hill. I've written about this ride before, and you can find a cue sheet for a mostly identical route in that post.

Rolling-rolling-rolling hills Just a quick ride report from my second long ride in my new home state Wisconsin. On recommendation from a local I headed out for a 100km ride to Mount Horeb and back. After following the Southwest Commuter and Military Ridge State trails out of Madison to Verona, the remainder of the ride was on mostly empty country roads. As I had requested, the route featured a lot of rolling hills. None of them was terribly long or steep, but due to the fact that I had gotten talked into doing weight training for the first time ever on the previous day, the climbing got to me after a while. One the way out the strong winds helped quite a bit, but after the mid-ride stop in Mount Horeb, I had to fight both hills and headwind. So far I'm really excited about the riding in the Madison area and am looking forward to further exploration once I will have finally moved there. And not a car to be seen! Mid-ride stop in Mount Horeb. Bought myself some jeans from the Duluth Trading Company store. Short reprieve from the hills but not the wind

The spring 2014 issue of Bicycle Quarterly features an article on creating schedules for long, timed rides. I must admit, this is not something I have done much—my approach to riding brevets has been to just do it, and if it takes me more than the time limit: whatevs. Schedules and goals sound too much like work and not fun. Yesterday, however, I found a new trail that I’d like to add to my collection and that because of its location will require me to do some more careful scheduling ahead of the ride. Via someone’s Twitter update I discovered the Corridor Aerobique, a new-to-me bike trail in the Lower Laurentians. It is 57 kilometers, connecting Morin Heights to Amherst mostly on a gravel surface away from car traffic, and soon the Corridor will be connected to the P’tit Train du Nord. Since I loved all of my previous rides through the Laurentians I really want to try this one, too. But Amherst’s location at the end of the trail could be aptly described as “in the middle of nowhere,” so how would I get back home? ...

Mercier Bridge with floating ice at sunset

Spring has finally arrived in Montreal—at least kind of. The forecast predicted mostly sunny skies with temperatures a little under 10°C. Not too shabby. I clearly have lots of pent up demand in me for riding, and so after doing 50 km on Friday, I planned a 100 km route for Sunday. The route was a variation of two longer rides I had done before, with a new connector segment to keep the distance down. The other change was the direction in which I was doing the ride. Usually when riding in the Monteregie I do the southeast/south part first in order to have a better change of catching the usual southwest to west winds on the way back. As the wind forecast for Saturday promised rather strong winds from anywhere between southeast and northwest, I figured I might as well mix things up and start out by going southwest. Little traffic Well, once I crossed the St. Lawrence Seaway onto the mainland I was greeted by a strong headwind. The area just south of Montreal is very flat and characterized by vast fields on black soil—and more recently wind turbines. Few trees provide shelter, and I was struggling to maintain even 20 km/h. The wind also meant that despite the relatively mild temperatures and the spring sun I felt little incentive to stop and take a break. Once I reached Saint-Urbain-Premier, after about 45 km, I circled through the little village to find a bench or other wind-protected spot, but to no avail. Since Saint-Urbain was also the point where I would change direction from southwest to southeast I figure I might as well keep going. This was the new connector segment, which turned out to be a nice addition to my road collection, especially with the wind now at least coming mostly from the side and back. Were the engineers slightly drunk when plotting this road...? After another 10 km I reached the turnaround point and now had the wind fully in my back for a few kilometers. Glorious riding while it lasted—which wasn't for too long. I finally took a lunch break, fully exposed to the wind, before continuing back towards Delson. The view of the numerous windmills with their rapidly spinning blades accompanied me for most of the way. I reached home in a pretty exhausted state after 108 km. Lunch break! I really miss having Gunnar, my road bike, for rides like this. It's just not the same on Wolfgang.