Misadventures in the Thaw

As you may have inferred from the dearth of personal posts and new pictures, there has not been a great deal of cycling lately. But suddenly, yesterday: a thaw. A cursory glance outside suggested that the streets hadsomewhatcleared of snow, and so I eagerly dragged out the bike. But what was meant to be a productive day, became instead a frazzled misadventure.



Liberated from the heaps of snow under which it's sat for over a month, my entire street now looks like it's being dug for trenches. I am amazed that this could happen over the course of a single winter, especially since they'd just recently repaved it. There is barely a foot of road where the asphalt is not broken, and it's nearly impossible to cycle through what is essentially one big ditch.



Soon I was on the main road, which has bike lanes in both directions. That is the bike lane in the picture above. When the blizzards were in full force, it was understandable that the bike lanes were not cleared. The whole town was covered in yards of snow, and I don't think bike lanes deserve special treatment compared to traffic lanes and sidewalks. But they do deserve equaltreatment, and for the past couple of weeks they have not been getting it, as far as I can see. Everything except for the bike lanes is now cleared.



After a couple of swerves and dodges, I decided to get out of the bike lane altogether and cycle on the road. The drivers thought I was insane. Apparently, they are no longer sympathetic to cyclists being in the traffic lane, because the conditions aren't harsh enough to evoke the "winter weather mode of politeness." I got a couple of "what are you doing??" gestures through rolled down windows, and my feeble attempts to point at the slush and ice in the bike lane elicited only blank stares. The bike lane looked fine to them - at least fine enough to make it no longer acceptable for me to be out in the traffic lane. After this happened a couple of times, I gave in. I didn't want to be right. I just wanted to get where I needed to go without arguing with every third car that passed me. So I got back in the bike lane. And that's when it happened: My first near-accident.



I don't have pictures of what the spot looked like, but it was similar to the watery area you see behind the bike here. I was cycling along a more or less clear portion of the bike lane, when suddenly I approached what looked like water with some slushy edging to it. It was getting dark at this point, and I considered that the water might in fact be covering a layer of ice. But by the time this thought entered my mind, I had a choice to either brake suddenly, swerve around it, or go through it. Looking over my shoulder, there was no room to swerve. And braking seemed like a bad idea in that particular spot. So I went through it. There was indeed ice underneath the water, and the bike's reaction surprised me. It did not slide out from underneath me or flip over upon hitting the ice, but remained upright while "skating" in a zig-zag, much like a car would on an icy road. Incredibly, I kept my balance and tried to contain the zig-zagging within the bike lane, as there was a steady flow of cars to my left. It seemed to me that this went on forever, but in all likelihood it was probably over in less than 10 seconds. I looked back afterward, and the ice-watery stretch was a quarter of a block long. I feel comfortable classifying that as a safety hazard.



I don't mind admitting that the experience left me a bit shaken, and I decided to turn back before reaching my intended destination. I switched on my lights and cycled on the road again, not caring whom I was inconveniencing and how they chose to express that. Then I stopped by a shop near my house to get some olives.



Not having taken my pannier along, I put the olives in a paper bag and secured the package via "rat-trap" - which made me think about rack design again. It is surprising to me that the Gazelle rack, which is rated for a huge amount of weight, has no provisions for bungee cord attachment. I don't really trust these rat trap thingies.I also have mixed feelings about "cafe locks." They are heavy, they are not always easy to use, and you can hurt your fingers if they get in the way of the lever popping back up when the lock is released - which is exactly what happened after my olive purchase.



I arrived home without further incident, albeit trailing olive brine from the rat trap having pressed into the container. A notification of a missed package greeted me with a malicious grin, as I removed the leaking packet from my bike rack and prepared to drag the Gazelle up the stairs. A productive afternoon it was not.



But surely there are lessons to be learned from this. The lure of the first thaw is not to be trusted? Water-covered ice is more treacherous than packed snow? Don't let drivers bully you into a bike lane that you feel is unsafe? Yes, all of those certainly seem to fit, but somehow I don't feel a whole lot wiser after the experience. What exactly am I supposed to do next time, cycle on the road and be shouted at the whole way? Or stay off the bike until the city finally decides to clear the sides of the roads? Neither is an appealing option.

Bomarea

Bomarea, originally uploaded by ParsecTraveller.

A colorful bomarea in the UC Berkeley Botanical Garden. This subtropical vine is native to South America.

Rated R in the Gunks: The Blackout (5.9-), Ape Call (5.8) & Raubenheimer Special (5.7)

Last Monday (Labor Day) was the third consecutive half-day of climbing in the Gunks for Gail and me. We arrived at the cliffs early and without much of a plan. We had talked about maybe doing Apoplexy (5.9) or Retribution (5.10b). But we hadn't discussed a warm-up route.




As we walked into the Trapps I suddenly thought of The Blackout (5.9-), a climb that Gail had introduced me to last year. This climb sits right in the middle of a very popular part of the cliff, near Jackie (5.5), Betty (5.3), Baby (5.6), Son of Easy O (5.8), and others. But no one is ever on it. Last year I had tried the first two pitches (which are both 5.8), combining them in one lead. I got a bit befuddled at the overhang on the traditional second pitch. I stepped up and down several times before committing to the move, getting worn out and then taking a hang during the traverse that came afterwards. I knew I could go back now and do better. And I thought it might be worth looking at the third pitch, which has a G-rated 5.9- roof crux but some allegedly R-rated climbing off the belay ledge up to the roof.




This time around I combined the first two pitches again. They are both very good. The first pitch starts with a fun bulge right off the ground and then, moving a little to the right, presents lower-angled thin face moves up to a ledge beneath the second pitch overhang and traverse. On Monday I brought my red C3 with me because I remembered that last year I found a funky sideways placement for it in a seam to protect the thin face moves.




Everything went well on the first pitch. I found the seam and the funky red C3 placement and danced up to the ledge, enjoying the climbing and feeling good. But Gail insisted that I went too far to the right. She was sure that last year I'd found a different seam, a different funky red C3 placement, and different thin face moves up to the ledge.




Was she right? Who knows? Either way there is pro for the moves and fun 5.8 climbing.




I continued straight into the traditional second pitch, without any hesitation this time around. This is in my opinion the best part of the climb. Once you pull the overhang a balancy move up and right to a pin presents the crux. Then a pumpy traverse right with good holds brings you to yet more steep climbing straight up on jugs to the belay ledge. The pro is good throughout. Save your red and yellow Camalots for the traverse, you'll be glad to have them. This is a really nice sequence. It looks very intimidating from below, but it's all there.




After Gail joined me atop pitch two I walked over to have a look at the R-rated beginning to The Blackout's third pitch. I could see why it is rated R. There is a bolt just over the lip of the overhang but no obvious pro on the face beneath the roof. Any fall before clipping the bolt would send the leader straight down to the ledge. Dick Williams says this unprotected face is 5.8.




As I looked it over, though, it appeared far easier than 5.8 to me. I decided to make a few moves up to evaluate the climbing and see if I could finagle any placements. I figured I wouldn't do anything that I couldn't reverse until I was sure about continuing.




It turned out to be really easy. Maybe I've just been climbing a lot lately and my view is skewed, but I really didn't think it was harder than 5.6 getting up to the bolt. There is this one little reach to the good hold under the roof. I placed a worthless nut over to the left before making this move. The nut immediately popped out but it didn't matter. I knew there was no way I was going to fall off the move, so I wasn't worried. Once I had the good hold in hand I clipped the bolt and it was well-protected and juggy the whole rest of the way. I thought the roof was straightforward and easier than 5.9.




I like The Blackout. The first two pitches are really nice, and different from each other. I am sure I will do them again. I'd feel comfortable going back to do the third pitch as well, but I don't know that I will bother. It just isn't interesting enough. There are much better roof pitches in the Gunks.




Once we got down to the ground I decided maybe I should take a look at another R-rated climb I'd never considered before: Ape Call (5.8).







(Photo: Gail about to make the crux slab moves on the first pitch of Ape Call (5.8).)



Ape Call is just around the corner to the left of The Blackout. The first pitch begins with an R-rated slab. The second pitch ends with a huge roof. Both pitches are 5.8. I've always been attracted to the roof but scared away by the protection rating on the slab. But after my experience on The Blackout, I thought maybe I could check out Ape Call the same way. I could take it one step at a time, not doing anything irreversible, and just climb back down if I thought it was too risky.



It turns out the first moves are no big deal. You quickly find yourself at a stance just a couple of moves from the top of the slab. At just above waist level is a small horizontal seam, with two narrow pockets that take tiny gear. I fiddled with these pockets for a while and got a black Alien to the left, and a purple C3 to the right. I think I got them both well set. I gave these cams some hard tugs, and while there is only so much you can tell from this kind of gear testing, they didn't budge. I thought they were good.







(Photo: Bomber, dude! The crux gear on Ape Call (5.8).)



Then I evaluated the move. Above me was an obvious hold. I figured that if this hold was positive, I could make the one step up and over pretty easily and then place better gear above the lip of the slab. If I reached up and didn't like it, I could still step down and bail.



I stepped up and tested it once, and wasn't sure I liked it, so I stepped down.



Then I stepped up and tried it again and it felt really good. That was all I needed. One step up, plus an easy-does-it step to the right, and I was in good shape. I could reach up and place a perfect cam in the corner above the slab.









(Photo: Gail attacking the huge roof on the traditional pitch two of Ape Call (5.8).)




I really enjoyed the slab. And the rest of Ape Call is better than good-- it is awesome. I ran the two pitches together in one. The remainder of the traditional pitch one has some steep moves up the corner above the slab. Then mellow climbing takes you further up the corner system to the roof. Once beneath the overhang you have to move left to get the good handholds below the lip of the roof. Here you should be careful, because there are several loose blocks that are covered in chalk along the way. Negotiate the traverse left, and then the fun really begins. Move back right, getting fully horizontal under the big roof, grab the jugs in the notch and go!




Ape Call is a great route. It has one of the best 5.8 roofs in the Gunks. And if I am right about the gear then I don't think the start is really R-rated. I would lead it again.




Having done these two R-rated routes, I just had to check out Raubenheimer Special (5.7), another R-rated climb that is in the same area, between Ape Call and The Blackout. I had to do it. It was sitting right there. I'd never been on it before, but Gail had led it and she said it was no big deal. How could I not complete the R-rated trilogy?




Raubenheimer's turned out to be the scariest route of the three, in my opinion. It is a clean route, with good low-angled climbing up an arete and face. But the crux thin move, about 25 feet up, comes above a ledge you will hit if you fail. There really isn't anything much you can do about it. I worked a nut into a shallow placement in a seam to the right, and maybe this nut was good. But the actual climbing is a ways over to the left at the arete, and if you blow the move I don't think the nut will keep you from an ankle-tweaker of a fall. And after stepping up at the crux you need to place a piece in the horizontal over your head from a rather fragile stance. The climbing is rated just 5.7, but I felt I was in much more jeopardy on this route than on the other two. I felt the moves were less secure, less certain. I'm not sorry I did it once but I don't know if I will ever go back.




In writing this post I don't want to encourage you to do something stupid. Please don't go climb one of these routes just because of whatever I may say about them. You have to make your own judgment about the risks.




Really the key insight I gained from climbing these routes is that the decision to climb an R-rated route involves the same sort of thinking that governs every other step you take as a trad leader.




You don't protect every move when you lead, even when the opportunities are there. You need to conserve gear and slings. With every step as a leader you evaluate whether you need to place some protection, or whether you can go a little further. The distance to your last pro figures into the equation, of course, but so too does the difficulty of the terrain. If you're sure you are not going to fall you will be much more inclined to keep running it out a little longer. And so if you are climbing a route with a 5.9 crux, for example, you are going to be making sure you protect the 5.9 moves. And you will be less inclined to place pro during the stretches of 5.6 or 5.7 between the cruxes. You will enter R-rated territory frequently, by choice, when the climbing is beneath your limit. You have to, or you will run out of gear.




The analysis when negotiating an R-rated route is thus similar to any G or PG route. You have to ask yourself with every move whether you are confident you can continue without pro. The only real difference is that if the answer is no, you don't have the option to place a piece. You have to be prepared either to make the move and take a risk, or to bail. If you find yourself unable to do either one, you've made a big mistake.




After I finished Ape Call, Gail asked me how I was feeling while leading the slab. I had to say I just felt good. I wondered aloud about whether courting danger added to the experience, or even represented the heart of the experience of climbing. I'm sure for some people it does.




I have never thought that risking injury was at the core of climbing for me. But it can be hard to know for sure. I like to push my limits. And I surely feed off of the adrenaline rush I get from powering through a tough sequence. If I am, either consciously or unconsciously, flirting with danger becauseit gives me an even bigger rush, then I think I am in an unhealthy place and need to reevaluate what I am doing.




But I like to think I am not in such a place. I enjoyed The Blackout and Ape Call because I evaluated them carefully and continued with the climbing when I was sure it would be okay. I solved both puzzles and felt satisfied physically and intellectually. On Raubenheimer Special, by contrast, when I felt for a fleeting moment that maybe-- just maybe-- I was taking too big a risk, it didn't give me a rush or make me feel good. It actually made me feel a little sick. It was not a feeling I wanted more of.




Labor Day weekend ended my summer with a bang. I hope to get in a few more 5.10 leads before the end of . The autumn,aka Gunkssending season, will soon be upon us. Even if I don't succeed on any new 5.10's, I feel like I've had some good progress this year. The 5.9's all feel pretty good and occasionally I hit a 5.10 just right. My climbing has improved a lot, I think, and I hope to stay healthy through the fall and winter so I can again take it to the next level.

Surprises at Meriton Old Town Garden Hotel in Tallinn

When I am travelling alone, the location of the hotel I will be staying at takes centre stage in the planning. I have my budget limits of course but I would rather spend a little more for a hotel that is centrally and conveniently located in town. Safety and near to everything are imperative. Sometimes I get lucky and get an affordable lovely hotel, sometimes not.



In Tallinn, I think I had a nice hotel that did not break the bank, and with some surprising twists as well.



The Meriton Old Town ‘Garden’ Hotel



Website: Meriton Old Town Garden Hotel







In Tallinn, Estonia I stayed for 2 nights and had roughly 3 days to enjoy the oldest city in the north. I stayed at the Meriton Old Town Garden Hotel which is part of the Meriton Tallinn Hotels. The hotel is a 16th century merchant house restored into a modern and charming historical hotel in the centre of old town Tallinn.



Do take note that there are 2 Meriton Old Town Hotels in Tallinn old town centre. The first one is called ‘Meriton Old Town Hotel’ located beside the old town’s ancient city walls, and where I stayed is the ‘Meriton Old Town Garden Hotel’ located in the center at both busy main streets, Pikk and Lai streets (the hotel is housed between 2 main boulevards and thus have 2 entrances). The word ‘garden’ thereby is the operative word here.



Many people get the 2 hotels mixed up and end up booking a room at the wrong hotel. The other hotel is very nice, I came across it while walking around and thought it was cute, but the one where I stayed at is very central which I quite prefer.



The surprises of this hotel are its café and the breakfast rooms but I’ll share first my room.



My Charming Room











My room was spacious for a standard double-bed room accommodation. The charming colour scheme of pale yellow gold and white was very smooth and light to the eyes while the floral baroque patterned red carpet was an elegant contrast.



The downside was the toilet and bathroom. No windows, they were not separate and tight. Moreover, the sink was located on the too narrow hallway and the mirror above it has a glass bracket where you can place your stuff. Whenever I brush my teeth and use the faucet and water, my head would get caught up with the bracket. It was soooo annoying.



Café Mademoiselle



This was one of the biggest surprises. I adore cafes and nice places aka hotspots, especially if they are themed and beautifully interior designed. Café Mademoiselle is one of those cafes in Tallinn that a city visitor should not miss, while hotel guests are lucky to be treated with easy access because this café is the café of Meriton Old Town Garden Hotel!



Here are a few pictures of this elegant Parisian style café:



















When in Estonia, do try the local coffee with Vana Tallinn liquor.









Outside the hotel on Pikk street is an open-air terrace served by Café Mademoiselle.







There is also another cafe terrace in the hotel located in the inner courtyard near the reception but this is only accessible on Lai street and I think only open during the summer months.



Hotel Toilet with an Ancient Well



If you are not a hotel guest but you have come to visit the café or the restaurant in the cellar, do stop by at the toilet because you will be in for a cool surprise. There is a big hole inside the toilet! Actually, this is an ancient well, but don’t worry it is covered in glass. Try standing on it though.









This is the hallway going to Café Mademoiselle (and the Estonian Dining Room) and to the courtyard of the hotel. On this hallway is the toilet with the ancient well, see arch door on the left.







Breakfast at the Estonian Dining Room



More surprises are coming! Face to face with a bull head, or maybe a different type of elk – reindeer head? I am not sure, you tell me!







Watch your head when you go down the stairs please.











My first breakfast took place in the cellar of the hotel, at the Estonian Dining Room Restaurant. The cellar's walls are made of brick limestone and the ceiling of dark mahogany coloured wooden panels. It is very nice and cosy, and perhaps typically Estonian, what with that animal head on the wall. In Madrid, Spain, many restaurants have them on the walls as well. Read here: El toro (bull's) head



The Estonian Dining Room is a restaurant of the hotel specialising in Estonian Kitchen (which I found out is very similar to the German Kitchen) but they use this place sometimes as a breakfast room in the mornings.



The Breakfast Room of Café Mademoiselle



And the last surprise was my second breakfast, this time at the breakfast room of Café Mademoiselle.











I thought we would have breakfast at the café but when I arrived I was redirected to the adjacent room, the (main) breakfast room of the hotel actually. The interior design is different from the café and compliments more my room in slightly French Victorian with a very feminine touch, unlike the Parisian vogue cafe that has a snarky bit Moulin Rouge design.



In the afternoons the breakfast room is used as a function room by the hotel. Buffet breakfasts (on both occasions) were very good, lots of vareity, unfortunately I am not a huge breakfast person.



Except for the toilet and bathroom, I am very satisfied with this hotel.

The Best Laid Plans

Yesterday we both had a day off and planned to go on a long holiday ride. A mere 10 minutes into it, we decided it was time for Plan B and rode to a coffee shop instead. So it seems that I am officially a winter bike wimp! When the temperature is below 30° F (I think yesterday was a high of 25° F?) , I can't really handle more than a commute or an errand ride.

This conflicts with my daydreams of cycling serenely through snowy landscapes - not a soul in sight and my tires making a soft swooshing sound as they roll through the lightly packed powder. Right. The odd thing is that I love winter and have spent most of my life in cold climates. I have no problem cross-country skiing in much, much colder temperatures than this and with less clothes on. What's with this cycling discomfort? I was wearing more layers than a layered cake, including a thermal shirt, thick Irish wool sweater and a windbreaker trench, and the wind still pierced right through it all. And it's not as simple as being just "too cold", but more like going back and forth between being too cold and too hot every couple of minutes. I guess I could wear my XC ski clothes on the bike instead of my regular clothes, but this goes back to the whole "cycling in your regular clothes vs special clothes" debate. Well, at least I continue to ride my bike for transportation; short rides I can handle.

Unlike me, the Co-Habitant scoffs in the face of adversity with his skimpy outfit and no scarf. Tough guy.

According to him, only his hands and ears really get cold when he cycles, hence the wool hat and leather gloves.

I like these gloves very much, and they match his Pashley's leather accessories nicely.

Looking like a snowman in my overstuffed coat, I could only marvel at the Co-Habitant's tolerance of low temperatures. We are promised a blizzard tonight, so the real winter test will soon be upon us!

The Surly Cross Check: a Colourful Build

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 withSchwalbeFat 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 useBerthoudsteel 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 behindthe seat tube to mount them high. So, the fenders had to beopened 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 crimpthe 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 sufficientclearance underneath the fork crown, but inthe rear there was less clearance - thebrake bridge is quite low and thechainstays are short. He had to dent the top of the rear fender (which isn'tvisible) in order to get it closer to the brake bridge, then fabricate a customcircular-L-bracket to hold the fender in place, screwed into the eyeletof the brake bridge. To dent the fender, he placed it on some clothing on the top edge of the back of achair, then hit it with a rubberized end of a pedal wrench, creating agrooved dimple. He also had to dentthe 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 BrooksFlyer saddle, he decided to sell it and replace it with a Berthoudtouring saddle - the male version of the one I now have on my Rivendell. So far he loves it.





He fitted the bike with theCarradicebag 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 CatEyeheadlight to a braze-on on the front fork, and a SpanningaPixeo 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 theSurlyCross 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 oldMotobecaneuntil he got his new roadbike, theMotobecane was retired as soon as he started riding theSurly- 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 theSurlysuits 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 theSurlyI 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 SurlyCross 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.