Because the logistics added up and I had followed the Colorado Trail Race like a fanboi and had just read about a guy my age who bikepacked across Michigan and if he could do it, then it was time to get off my ass.
Because I read bikepacking.com everyday and all my stuff was just gathering dust.
Because the first bikepacking trip was shortened because of a mechanical problem.
Because I always wondered how people could put together back-to-back big days.
So it was time to put up or shut up.
I took a left turn. Some guy had created a route that ran along our Up North backyard and followed the NCT to Lowell MI. Seemed like a good idea. I could in find a route from Lowell to Wixom on the way.The trusty old Trek Stache had been giving me some problems lately and I thought it might be time to hang it on the wall. But I got it running and told it that it would just have to deal with all the creaking crankiness, because we were on our way: three nights and four days riding from Manistee to Karen’s place in Wixom. McCarthy Lake, one of my all-time favorite places in Michigan. Got a cell signal and found out that my mother was in the hospital. It all worked out and I was able to continue but it helped that I was also mentally prepared for something to go wrong, The MCT south of the Pere Marquette is beautiful and I feel lucky that I got a chance to keep riding. Just by chance, I passed the Loda Lake Wildflower Sanctuary, a place Karen and I have meant to visit for quite awhile. Made it to Twinwood Lakes Campground south of White Cloud. A long day that I was expecting, but I was cooked from the 80 miles of mostly singletrack. Twinwood Lakes was close to a gas station and had good cell service but I could hear the traffic from the nearby highway. Next time I’ll stay at Nichols Lake State Park.
Day 2 involved bypassing the sections south of White Cloud closed to mountain bikes. The Meijer family (of the grocery store chain) has created an enormous network of rail trails in the Grand Rapids region, which I ended up using for at least 1/3 of the 70 miles for the second day. Honestly, it was a nice high-speed break from the relentless singletrack of the day before.
Because I’m a big pussy and I like a shower and a soft bed, I planned a hotel stay in Lowell, a cool town winning its struggle to keep up appearances. Having ridden among the mansions of Rockford, as well as the Luton singletrack and Cannonsburg Ski Resort, and the unexpected hills of Egypt Valley, the Main Street Inn felt just right. And on my late evening walk, I looked up and saw the National Headquarters for the NCT, which I knew was in Lowell in the back of my mind, but a cool surprise nevertheless. Not many pics from day three. The game plan was a relatively easy 50 miles to Sleepy Hollow State Park near St. John’s but the weather report called for storms in the afternoon. I ended up at Sleepy Hollow around 1:00 in a rain shower. It was time to see what the whole long-distance riding thing was all about. Karen’s’ place was another 60 miles away, but I was feeling good and decided to see how far I could go.
So when I got a strong enough signal, I let google maps plot a bicycle route and pressed on. The route was a nice combo of pavement and gravel, and the turn-by-turn audio directions kept my wheels moving. I can’t say I ever entered the “pain cave” but I will say that after awhile I experienced a strange dissociation between my legs and my thoughts. Aided by a tailwind, my legs never seemed to get tired and just kept moving, while my head kept an eye on the weather and calculated the possibilities of making it to Karen’s before dark.
I owe most of that 125 mile effort to my chance discovery in a Dollar Store of this wonderful concoction. You see, things got a little heated down around the under carriage during day two. An occasional slather had me thinking I could actually do the Tour Divide Route someday (along with a Brooks saddle of course.). Karen and our dog Little greeted me on the way in, just before a downpour and lightning. My gamble/experiment had paid off. It was nice to have a goal of seeing my wife at the end, probably my biggest motivator throughout the whole trip. Other than waking up to a flat tire caused by a leaking valve on morning #2, my only my mechanical issue was the seatstay connection on my Aeroe Spider rear rack. I lost a strap after having to constantly stop to tighten it on the singletrack. Not sold on the product (I had noticed that a lot of people are using the Tailfin Rack) but I’ll give it another shot, I guess. Felt oddly good the next day. I guess I know how those guys do it – at least for three days!
Four days of mountain biking in southwest Colorado
Adam flew in to Montrose for a week of mountain biking. I had already ridden at Maryland Mountain near Nederland and at 10,000 feet on Grand Mesa, so I felt ready for high altitude riding. Adam has skied in CO plenty of times, so I figured he’d be good and we ought to just go for it after surviving the Million Dollar Highway and do a quick out and back on the Colorado Trail near Silverton. One of these days I’m going to finally ride the whole section of the CT from Silverton to Durango.
The views are stunning and the singletrack is sweet. Ride #2 was at Hermosa Creek near Durango. Karen dropped us off and we rode through a valley that was recovering from a massive wildfire a few years ago. This pic was taken shortly after the only real mechanical issue we had the whole week: a rock knocked my derailleur backwards, but we figured it out. Hermosa Creek’s scenery was different from our short ride above treeline the day before but no less incredible. Next time, I’m bringing a fishing pole, though. Wim Hoff made an appearance. We would be riding the next two days near Creede, and that involved a three-hour drive through Pagosa Springs and up to a yurt we had reserved near Lake City. By the end of the day, we were all getting a bit weary, and when we finally found the access road the yurt, I about shit my pants: the forest service road was steep and filled with deep water bars, but the manager of the yurt had told me that we’d be okay with a four-wheel drive truck, so I grabbed the steering wheel tightly, threw it into four wheel low, and hoped for the best. The first time up was harrowing, but totally worth it. We were serenaded by Hermit Thrushes (my favorite bird, which reminded me of Northern Michigan) and were treated to jaw-dropping views. The Jon Wilson yurt has a story behind it, and we were grateful for having the chance to stay there. The next day was the big one. I had told Adam a couple of weeks earlier that if we pulled it off, it would really be something else. The plan was to ride up to Segment 22 of the Colorado Trail from the yurt and then continue on Segment 23 to Pole Creek and descend to the Rio Grande Reservoir where Karen would pick us up. A big day: nearly 40 miles with almost 6,000 feet of ascending, all above treeline at around 11,000 feet at the beginning of monsoon season. It was incredible. Amazingly, the altitude never seemed to play a big factor. It was probably the matching shirts. A couple of days later, Lael Wilcox (look her up) had her pic taken at this spot. The gameplan was to message Karen with my Garmin InReach at noon to let her know how things were going. Unfortunately, she didn’t get the message until later in the afternoon that we were going to stick to the plan and complete the original route, which caused us a bit of concern. Adam kept saying he was “going to fucking kill me” because I made one tiny navigation error and didn’t realize we needed to climb/push Carson Saddle before descending Pole Creek. Brutal. Not a lot of pics from the second half of the ride, but the final few miles of OHV track was as good as the mountain singletrackLater I found out that I have a “push” mode on my ebike, which would have saved some suffering on my part. Sections 22 and 23 are everything they say they are. I can’t wait to do them again – with “push” mode, of course. There’s just too much for my mind to comprehend about the ride, even now, more than two weeks later. The last day was an easier ride: Segment 21 to Miner’s Creek down to Creede. The initial climb/push was tough but not as bad as Carson Saddle. When got to the top and rode Snow Mesa, the trail stretched before our eyes for miles, it seemed. I made another tiny navigational snafu on this ride as well, which involved some route finding. Okay, actually two snafus, but all was well and neither required a climb to find the route again. I said it on Strava, and I’ll say it again: the last ten miles of the descent on Miner’s Creek was the best ever. I think Adam concurred. We were swimming in awe at the end. Even though Miner’s Creek is a moto trail, it rode like mountain bike singletrack. Incredible. I’ll admit I was a little cooked by the end. Adam and Karen had talked me into riding my “acoustic” bike, and I felt it. Csaba was clearly ready to roll, though. Nothing like seeing your wife and dog at the end of a long ride!
After the ride, we had to haul ass to get past the road construction closure on Route 50 to make to one of the nicest hotels we’ve ever stayed: Arrowhead Mountain Lodge, between Gunnison and Montrose. You heard it here first.
Four good days of real mountain biking. Thanks Karen and Adam and Allison. I’m a lucky man indeed.
Our second time to Little Book Cliffs WHMA near Grand Junction. Camped on a ridge with wild horse trails on either side. There’s a lot to learn from the nearly silent movement of horses in their nearly natural habitat. Spotted about 30 of the nearly 200 wild horses in this range. Helped out with two of the veteran volunteers and learned a lot about how the BLM, a much maligned organization, has worked closely with local people to achieve and maintain something of real value. Penitent Canyon, as I’ll describe later, is another example of this cooperation among real people trying to d good things.The heat was oppressive but we learned how to manage our water consumption and found shade when we needed it. The drive to the WHMA is a bit sketchy—nearly two hours to cover about 20 miles— and I was concerned about the OEM tires on the Prairie Schooner II, but we all made it back out safely. Up on Grand Mesa, the temperature dropped to the mid 70s. Still not a smart idea to attempt the full Palisade Plunge by myself so I sampled the upper section. The Blackwater Bikes folks (Sue Haywood and co.) rode the whole Plunge a couple of days later.
It was time to say goodbye to Carolyn and hello to Adam, who would be flying in to Montrose the next day for a week of mountain biking. So far, the itinerary that Karen had arranged was holding up nicely.
We “scored” a one night permit to the Red Rock Canyon section of the Gunnison, a world-class fishery near Montrose CO, accessible only by an eight-mile hike on a sparsely-marked trail. Not as deep as the Black Canyon, it’s no less scenic. We camped under the stars. Norm and a father/son duo were the only people in the canyon. The father and son had a big day fishing (I lost but saw some beautiful fish, and realized why the area is only permit accessible, despite the hike). Norm turned out to be one of the most inspiring people I’ve ever met. More about him below. Next trip will involve rafting and fishing the Gunnison, another river we’ve grown to love. The hike into Red Rock Canyon and out was a proper warm-up for our third trip into the Black Canyon of the Gunnison. This time, we invited Karen’s niece, Carolyn, who had recently taken a job near Boulder. The descent into the Black Canyon is unmarked and grueling. The heat forced us to re-evaluate our plans and turn it into a day hike. Loaded backpacks were just out of the question. The descent went as expected, but the ascent took nearly twice as long as usual. There are parts that require class 3 climbing. We made it back to camp in darkness.
We saw Norm at the trailhead, but because of his rather junky-looking, home-made motorized bike and trailer, we honestly wrote him off as some homeless kook. We couldn’t have been further from the truth. After we made our way down into the canyon, he suddenly appeared, and promptly began unloading his pack. Turns out that Norm was about to launch his packraft down the Gunnison Gorge and do some camping and fishing all by himself in a remote and inaccessible canyon. Also turns out the Norm had done this before: spotted his vehicle at a take-out downstream and ridden his bike 35 miles to the trailhead, albeit aided by a kit that included a weedwacker motor and flywheel! Turns out that Norm, probably in his late 70s or early 80s, was an expert fly fisherman, and he told us when he retired after a fulfilling career as an engineer, instead of moving to Florida like everyone else, he decided to follow his passion — rivers— and move to Durango. I think this video tells the story best.
After searching and waiting for quite a few years, I finally found Goldilocks: a 2003 16’ ClackCraft LP in just the right condition at just the right price. Wherever there are rivers and trout, steelhead or salmon, people call these drift boats. They are highly maneuverable and can be anchored midstream, and they have braces for standing while fishing. Some people mount small outboards them.
Back in my younger days when I paddled whitewater, I always envisioned myself as a whitewater river guide. Although I won’t be taking this on whitewater, it will get Karen, the dogs and I on bigger rivers for longer trips, maybe some overnighters. And I hope to take it to Tennessee for some fishing trips with the sons snd grandsons.
The first river voyage involved using my ebike to self-shuttle the section of the Big Manistee in Northern Michigan from Tippy Dam to High Bridge. Everything went as planned.
Thanks to Ross Swanson of Tailwater Charters, and David from Southeastern Fly Fishing for the inspiration!
A spin around the Little Manistee River in Northern Michigan
I headed out for a loop on the backroads and single track surrounding our place Up North. This is one of two stands of poplar trees, similar to Aspen, along the twists of Campbell Road. These individual trees are actually part of a larger interconnected organism.
The sandy Forest Service roads benefitted from the recent rains, which lowered the extreme level of wild fire danger. Koenig Road cuts across the forest to our south, dead ending then and starting again as many FS roads in the area do.
Couldn’t resist this shot near Schoenberg Road. It was actually on private property but we’ve met the owners and they probably wouldn’t mind. They’ve also set up a small chapel nearby. There must be a story.
There are plenty of houses and cabins but it doesn’t take long to feel a sense of remoteness. Somewhere near here, our horses cut thru the forest when they broke loose from our round pen earlier in the spring. We tracked them about four miles away by their tracks in the sandy roads.
County Line Road, the border of Manistee and Mason counties, is our quickest route to Lake Michigan and is usually washboarded enough to rattle your brain on a mountain bike. Not sure who would stop at that stop sign since Schoenberg Road leads off into the nowhere of the deep forest.
The Huron Manistee National Forest Service is quite active in the area and recently clear cut a few hundred acres near the Little Manistee Weir for wildlife habitat rehabilitation. The weir facility, by the way, is the source of most of the steelhead planted in Lake Erie and caught in northern Ohio’s Steelhead Alley.
Six Mile Bridge on the Little Manistee. Karen and I have paddled this stretch dozens of times and we’ve become quite familiar with its “stained” clear water, tight twists and turns, log piles and holes. And every once in awhile I catch a fish there.
It’s taken a long time to learn all the Forest Service roads on the north side of the infamous Nine Mile Bridge section of the Little Manistee, with its Blue Ribbon trout and steelhead fishing and Class II paddling. There are still a couple of two tracks I’ve yet to explore. It’s a stretch of river that is personal to many people, and it’s unbelievable that some douchebag with a gun had to use this sign as target practice.
The constantly changing light of the route.
Old Pops didn’t have the same problems these gravel bikers had on the way into Big M. One of the many virtues of the Spectral is its ability to glide over deep sand.
The “shoulders” of Big M remind me of my own shoulders: one slightly higher than the other. Big M has been described as a “pile of glacial poo” and provides quite a bit of elevation gain in its 30+ miles of singletrack.
The Bitchin Berms/Catamount/Bullwhacker area of Big M is among the finest singletrack in all of Michigan, but I had to duck out early because time was running short again. Preparations were being made at the main trailhead for the Lumberjack 100, an event I’d like my friends to attend next year.
Then it was back to the two-track near Pomeroy Springs alongside the section of the Little Manistee upstream from Nine Mile Bridge. I had hoped to do the loop out to Lake Timmerman, a beautiful place Karen and I have spent many hours kayaking. I had also hoped to find a new route to Lake of the Woods. Instead, I took the connector to the North Country Trail, which would lead back to our place. Plenty of private property along this stretch of the river. Just upstream are some of the old fishing lodges that rival those along the Pere Marquette. Thomas McGuane “immortalized” one of these lodges in his novel The Sporting Club. Read at your own risk.
Dead Horse Marsh. Next year, I’ll volunteer with the Spirit of the Woods, a chapter of the NCT.
Luckily, mountain bikes are allowed on this enchanting segment of the NCT, which had quickly recovered from some Forest Service controlled burns.
We call this place Night Hawk Hill. Usually four or five of them buzzing and whirring at sunset. It’s on the NCT, near a recently logged area a half mile from our trailer. Hermit Thrushes have nested in the area as well. Their haunting, re-echoing, flute-like songs are one of my favorite things about the time we get to spend Up North.
Our private path to the NCT. We only own two acres, but the NCT and surrounding National Forest provide us with nearly endless possibilities for exploration.
Our fledgling bluebirds woke me up one morning with their tapping at the window.
Speaking of a landscape that has grown into someone’s soul, David Roberts reveals not just the history of one of the most controversial places in the US, but he also gradually reveals some of his cherished secrets of southeast Utah. One of the best books I’ve read in awhile, and an area I hope to explore next month.
On what felt like the first real day of my retirement, I decided to stop worrying and wondering about time and took a little spin down to the trails at Tuscazoar. A long time ago, I’d take off by myself and drive to WV or Virginia or Pennsylvania and go riding. Seems like a good time to take up that habit again.
It’s been years since the last time I was at Tuscazoar,. I remember getting dropped by Gus Michaels and Mike Colonna when we stopped on the way back from an AOA event. It was Supai’s last run as a trail dog; she was diagnosed with Lyme disease soon after.
The Kocareks, Knobby Side Down people, and Stark County Parks have done an amazing job of transforming what used to be a grinding set of hiking trails into a fun little trail network. Honestly, the jump line reminded me of a couple of places at Copper Harbor MI. I rode everything and got my bearings, and I will be back soon.
Just enough machine-built flow trail interspersed among old-school singletrack, with some chunk mixed in. Pre-Appalachian.
Since I was making it a day, I decided to drive up to Vulture’s Knob and try to spend the remaining 75% of my battery. After a lap or so at VK, I had used up my time, but not my battery – still 50% left. I love that bike. I’ve been told I should be ashamed (half-jokingly) to ride an e-bike, and a friend said he “won’t be ready for one for quite a while.” To that I say, I’m sorry. I’m having the time of my life.
On the drive through the Amish countryside, I listened to an Outside podcast featuring Bill McKibben, the author of The End of Nature, which I had read as a grad student. Back then, I thought he was a self-promoting anthropomorph: his thesis in the book was that in destroying that part of the natural world that sustains our species, we are in fact destroying all of “nature.” Something tells me that if we don’t get the carbon emissions thing under control, we might end of causing the extinction of our species, but there still will be plenty of “nature” left – just no humans and the thousands of species that accompany us to our demise.
Well, he’s still a self-promoter and humble bragger, but in the podcast he certainly cites some interesting facts about the reality of global warming – and looking at the haze blanketing the surrounding hillsides from Canadian wildfires, it wasn’t too hard to believe what he was preaching.
Lastly, it seems that the Amish have fully embraced e-bikes. I saw more of them in in Tuscarawas, Stark and Wayne county than I did horse and buggies. And the Amish seem to be thriving.
The thing goes everywhere. And the cassette glows. One of these days its gonna go up the Over/Under descent at Vulture’s Knob.
Overall as far as ride quality, I can say that it has increased my riding fun by at least 50%. Maybe more. Some people say that E-MTBs can make your regular trails seem boring. I haven’t found that to be true. Ripping up climbs adds a whole new dimension to a ride. And the sheer speed has already made me a better rider. I will admit that a trail like Vulture’s Knob is now a lot more fun going in the opposite direction from normal. Technical climbs that are just a big pain in the ass on an analogue bike are now a cool, doable, repeatable challenge. And my heart isn’t ready to explode out of my chest at the top. Never thought I’d say it, but East Rim Phase II CCW is now my preferred direction.
The motor/battery compartment actually extends lower than the chainring. The bash guard is beefy, but if I’m gonna bash over logs, I’m bringing my Chromag.
Pedal strikes have been an occasional annoyance. I’m kinda used to the low bottom bracket of my Santa Cruz Hightower, so I know that “thunk” feeling. But I’ve been reading a lot about shorter crank lengths, so I bought some 160mm to swap out the 165mm stock cranks. I’m also going to increase the front suspension from 150mm to 160mm, which the bike is designed for. (I found out that the 150 to 160 on a Fox 36 is fairly common and relatively cheap.) Further tuning of the suspension will eliminate my worries, and of course improve ride quality.
I haven’t had to diddle with the headset cable routing yet but I’ve done some research and it doesn’t seem to be a big deal. It also hides the motor control cable.
Yeah, but what happens if you get out there and run out of battery? I spent the first week range finding. The range seems to be somewhere between 40-50 miles depending on amount of climbing and the ride mode. I did nearly two full laps of Mohican on a single charge. I’ve found that the lowest setting, ECO mode, is plenty for most all the trail riding I’ve done. Every once in awhile I’ll bump it up to TRAIL and rarely up to BOOST. The bike came with the largest battery available on an E-MTB: 900 wh. My concern isn’t really battery range, but battery life: how long will it last and will Canyon make after-market batteries available for purchase? So far, their response is “not yet.” But I’ll be first in line to buy the smaller, but still compatible 720wh battery which will give me the option of switching batteries and allow for shorter, but lighter and more nimble rides.
As far as riding with the motor off, it pedals amazing well for a nearly 50 pound bike. I did an out-and-back with our dog Csaba without the motor on, and it seemed like a doable proposition to ride for a few miles without assist.Mohican “backwards” is now an absolute hoot. And maybe the best way to ride it. Speaking of battery life, one of the reasons I bought the bike is so I can keep up with my son Adam on our rides near Durango CO in July. We’ll be staying off-grid in a yurt for a couple of days, so I bought an inverter/generator, which seems to charge the battery more quickly than a wall outlet. I plan on plenty of off-grid camping in the next few years, and I can always use a generator as a back-up source of power at our place in Northern Michigan.My rides at Big M last weekend were some of the best I’ve ever had up there. I tried to show as much etiquette as I could when passing riders. Not gonna share my thoughts/knowledge about where E-MTBs are “legal.”I spend a lot of time in the higher gears and I have to remind myself to shift occasionally. The power lag after a stroke also tends to make for some hard shifting, and I might decrease that so I don’t go through a cassette too quickly. Maybe the reason why SRAM developed the Eagle Transmission drivetrain?The grippiness of the Assagai up front and the Minion DHR out back just adds to the fun. For a guy who always wanted a dirtbike, this thing is the perfect compromise: quiet (relatively), easily transportable, and rideable just about everywhere. Ok, I’ll say it: EVERYWHERE. Most places I’ve ridden so far have E-MTB segments recorded on Strava. I think it’s curious that E-MTBs have been widely embraced in Europe. The XTR four piston brakes are definitely needed not just because of the weight of the bike but because I’m going so much faster. Yes, I know: I already almost killed myself once. This time, though, I’ll die with a smile on my face. Just kidding. Everything seems hooked up and thought out, which isn’t surprising since Canyon was one of the first big players in the E-MTB market, and the Spectral has already undergone quite a few iterations. It’s not a perfect bike, but it was well worth $7999. The final descent on the NCT out of Big M gets a little “hectic” as they say and I’ll have to cool my heels a bit. But geez, between the fire roads and 30 miles of single track, not to mention the NCT and the Huron Manistee National Forest, Up North has exploded with possibilities. Bored no longer!
Some Randoms:
I might never Zwift again. My rides now give me whatever level of workout I want, and I’ll be able to moderate my sweat level during the colder rides. Nothing good about a cold, sweaty ride. And my friends never gave me kudos for Zwift rides! I also feel like Zwifting through the winter contributed to some of my early spring burnout this year.
I’ve had to be careful about uploading Strava rides because I’ve earned some analogue trophies. I’ve set the viewing to “Followers only” and that keeps me off the analogue segment records.
There’s an odd feeling of fatigue after long distance rides. You don’t put out a long distance effort, but your mind tricks you into thinking you ought to be more tired. And I’m ok with no longer pushing my body to extremes and calling it fun.
e-Isolation: I’ve already felt it. People don’t want to hear about how much fun I’m having. I did a climb in the Cuyahoga Valley the other day that I had never cleaned. Even though I was out of breath and my heart rate was skyrocketing, it felt awesome. But it wasn’t a time to share my exhilaration with my buddies. My climb was aided. In their view, I’m sure, I was cheating. In my view, it was a fucking blast!
There is that analogue yearning. But the ebike is a temptation that’s hard to resist, and I’m going to have to mix in some analogue rides. Its like that old saying: it never gets easier; you just go faster. Well, it gets easier and I’m going faster. But now I’m not chasing that ever elusive level of hyperfitness that culture and marketing demands of us, and that probably isn’t very healthy in the long term – at least for me.
Last but not least, Karen and I did a ride – she was on the Canyon – and she was faster than me for a change. I think I found a new riding buddy!
P.S. I think I just coined a term: aBikes. Analogue bikes. Versus eBikes.
Took the Spectral on its first spin on the trail where I first kinda got started mountain biking: Medina’s Huffman Park
Acceleration: although I don’t have a ton of experience with motorcycles, and virtually no experience with other e-bikes, the acceleration on an Spectral/Shimano EP8 motor is a little startling at first, then awesomely welcome in places where you would normally stall or have to lay down instant power: Those match-burning moments when you wonder why you’re working so hard to have fun.
Speed: things happen more quickly, but the speed seems controllable. Think those sections of trail that you hammer at full gaz, but at an effort you can’t sustain for the whole ride, unless you’re racing. And I was never a racer. I think I’ll be going through some brake pads.
Despite weighing almost 50 lbs, the Spectral’s MX wheels gave it a nimble feel, and the weighted bottom bracket kept it planted to the trail.
The pedal assist makes constant shifting less necessary. It’s almost a single speeding sensation. I’ll have to monitor the cassette wear.
I’ll also need to learn some sort of trail etiquette or quick response when I pass other riders. I came up gradually on a lycra-kitted racer boi and his girlfriend, and he didn’t seem to want to let me pass him. Eventually, they both pulled to the side and I wish them a good ride. They’re response was “You, too” then “Ohhh” as if to acknowledge that the reason I was going so fast was not because they were slow but because I was on an ebike. I didn’t respond…because I was weaving and railing and having a blast.
It has occurred to me that e-bikes will take the “big dick” factor out of riding for some people. It’s not about showing how far into biological shock you can push yourself to impress your Strava audience. It’s about recreating the fun that we all felt when we got into the sport. At least that’s the way it feels to me so far. But then again, I’m almost 60 years old.
Travels with Pops 