surlyblog

2009-07-14T11:43:00.000-07:00

The nature of my job often entails riding the hell out of the newest Surly products to test them pre- and post-production. It’s not uncommon for me to ignore an older bike for a year or two while the newer stuff gets flogged on a regular basis. Such is the case with my Tuxedo Blue Pacer.

I rode that bike for more than a year in all conditions…enough to break the drive-side Ultegra crank, shred a few tires, and wear out 2 drivetrains. But when the Karate Monkey protos came out, the Pacer got shelved, so I could focus on monkey love.

A rare garage-cleaning event occurred a few weeks ago, and the Pacer caught my eye, for some reason, as I shuffled my bike stock around. I took it down into my dungeonous basement shop, and looked it over. It needed a new bottom bracket, headset, handlebar tape, and wheel-truing, but, otherwise, it was ready to roll. So, I made the necessary repairs and got it back on the road. It didn’t take long to realize why I’d previously put so many miles on that particular bike. The Pacer is one of the sleepers in our line. It isn’t super-light, and it doesn’t really stand out in the crowd of carbon-fiber and supermetal wonderbikes. But it does possess a pleasantly ordinary geometry that lends itself to a day in the saddle and a toughness that allows one to stack on miles without worrying about catastrophic failure.

The Pacer was telling me that it wanted to go camping. I’ve done a couple overnight rides with it, using racks and panniers. But it seems more suited to rackless touring. So, I installed a Carradice Camper Longflap on the loops of my Brooks B17, a Carradice Nelson Longflap bag on my unorthodox handlebar set-up (you're just jealous, J-Dogg), and a small Jandd frame bag in the front triangle. That’s enough volume for a night or two on the road or trail.

After work, on Friday, I made my way down to the riverside single-track that points towards home. 700 x 28mm Rivendell Ruffy Tuffys aren’t ideal for some of the soft/sandy/rooty sections of trail…especially after a previous night’s rain, but that’s part of the fun. As a general rule, we tend to classify our machines and not give them the opportunity to play out-of-bounds. I wanted to find the limits of this “road bike”, and find some of my own limits as I rode through some challenging parts of my route. As it turns out, there were very few trials that completely halted forward progress. And when I hit hard, dry trail sections, I shifted into tall gears and made up for some slow sessions in the tough stuff.

After reaching a familiar campsite, I had time to set up my hammock and fill my bottles, from a ground water source, before the sun dropped out of view. The water needs to be boiled or filtered before consumption, but that’s not a huge issue when one has fire and time on his hands.

My breadpan stove would have fit in a Carradice bag, but I wanted to try something new. So, in lieu of a woodstove, I brought a piece of aluminum flashing to form into a bottomless chimnea-like heat reflector. Thin aluminum isn’t ideal for high-heat applications, but it lasted long enough to tell me some things for the next stove design.

As usual, I spent most of the evening stoking the fire, eating, drinking, watching traffic move up and down the river, and sketching shelters, stoves, packs, and other bits that I’ll build in the future. At 1:30am, I retired to my Hennessy Hammock.

I was in no hurry to break camp after waking up to a clear, blue sky and a light breeze. I made breakfast on my little Esbit stove and went for a hike at the river’s edge. Then I simply sat for a while and enjoyed the view from my campsite. Eventually, I got the Pacer packed up and pointed toward the deer path that gets me back to the main trail.

I didn’t really have a schedule to keep, so I moved down the trail at a leisurely pace and explored some off-the-beaten-path routes when opportunities presented themselves. I pulled into the yard at 5pm.

Noah had been home with Lynn all day, and he needed to burn off some kid energy. So, I immediately unpacked my camping gear, replaced it with my Jetboil stove, a cold beer (Surly Coffee Bender) and some dinner items, filled my water bottles, and got the little dude ready for a ride to a sunny spot along the Mississippi, south of downtown Minneapolis.

We rode, ate dinner, threw rocks in the water, and climbed around the riverbank before returning home as the sun set behind the city center.

This day will go down in the books as another awesome camping/riding/hiking session. I enjoyed every bit of it…the beautiful weather, the periods of solitude, the time with Noah, and the opportunity to play on one of my favorite bikes for a whole day.

The Pacer is going camping again soon…maybe this week, but with some component changes that will make it a little more dirt-worthy without compromising its road manners. Stay tuned…

2009-07-13T07:48:00.000-07:00

First today, a view into the future:

Now that's what I call camel tow. Or maybe this is:

Either way, consider this a harbinger of things to come.

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Tim, who hails from some indeterminate digital ripple on the the cyber plane of the space-time continuum, writes:

dear surly @ the internet, were you trying to trick me into being faster by putting a 17 tooth freewheel on my karate monkey instead of an 18? it didn't work. love, tim

May Jebus bless you and keep you Tim.

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Sov found a craigslisting entitled A Few Things From The Bike Shop. The excerpted section is entitled SOME POINTERS FOR THE PHONE:

- I don't know what size of bike you need. The only thing that I can tell over the phone is that you sound fat. I don't care how tall you are. I don't care how long your inseam is. Don't complain to me that you don't want to come ALL THE WAY down to the bike shop to get fitted for a bike. I have two hundred bikes in my inventory. I will find one that fits you. Whether you come from the north or the south, my shop is downhill. Pretend you're going to smell a fart, ball up, and roll your fat ass down here.
-Don't get high and call me. Write it down, call me later. When I have four phone lines ringing, and a herdlet of people waiting for help, I can't deal with you sitting there "uuuuhhh"-ing and "uuummm"-ing while your brain tries to put together some cheeto-xbox-fixie conundrum. We didn't get disconnected, I left you on hold to figure your shit out.
-I really do need to see your bike to know what is wrong with it. You've already figured out that when you car makes a noise, the mechanic needs to see it. When your TV goes blank, a technician needs to see it. I can tell you, if there is one thing I've learned from you fucking squirrels, it's that "doesn't shift right" means your bike could need a slight cable adjustment, or you might just need to stop backing into it with the Subaru. Bring it in, I'll let you know for sure.
- No, I don't know how much a good bike costs. For some, spending $500 dollars is a kingly sum. For others, $500 won't buy you one good wheel. You really need to have an idea of what you want, because every one of you raccoons "doesn't want to spend too much".

Oh, there's more. Lots more. Shop rats everywhere are rejoicing. Customers' sphincters are tightening.

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One Kelly Brewer sent this picture of what appears to be chicken. Is that curry sauce? Nacho cheese?

He included the photo to illustrate his love of his new Cross Check, which he calls Meatloaf (presumably for its beef gravy color).

See, the chicken he found while out tootling around the backroads of Ohio on Meatloaf, looking for some rib joint he thought he remembered. The rib joint did not materialize but he "found great chicken wings, karaoke, and lots of nice people. I just wanted to let someone know from Surly and say thanks. Meatloaf rocks."

Beautiful, thank you.

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In other noose, a while ago I asked those of you who use Big Dummies to send me your stories and thoughts about the machine some call home. Reports continue to come in, and I thought you might like to see some of the ways people are putting this bike to work. And I use the term loosely.

Surly pal Snakebite wrote right away. "I built my Big Dummy with the intent it would be my Touring Bike which might also be used as the grocery getter. While it gets groceries fine, it performed flawlessly on a week-long trip from just north of Durango, CO to Moab, UT."

Dig the mudflap.
He continues, "Thinking outside the Free Loaders, I decided this would make a great racing bike. I raced my Big Dummy 400 plus miles from the South Dakota / Wyoming border to the South Dakota / Minnesota border in 46 hours and change for the 2008 running of the Highway 212 Gut Check. P.S. I like whiskey."

We all do. Touring certainly is a common use, because the Big Dummy is so uniquely suited to such travel. Brent F. "used the Big Dummy for SAG on the Akron/Cleveland Tour de Cure. It was loaded down with about 150 pounds of tools, pumps, parts, repair stand, and of course the mandatory camp chair! Overall, I ended up riding about 30 miles round trip with the load."

But Brent, like many others, mentioned not just a specific categorical use, but lots of stuff he does with it, from commuting to camping to child hauling. He evens says, "Thank you for the Big Dummy, it has changed my life and the way I use my bicycles. Brent"

You're very welcome. Thanks for buying one.

Steve from SLC, pictured below wearing what look lke O.R. slippers (oh are they? *snort!*), took a different tack to arrive at the same basic idea. He responded to my question ("How do you use your Big Dummy?"), "That's funny. That's like asking, How do you use your Chevy Suburban?"

True enough. I suppose it could be considered that the best category fit for the Big Dummy is my personal favorite, the category known as 'Other.'

Goin' fishin'? Julia is.

Sean R says, "I use it several times per week, as one of my principal commuters to work (20 miles each way). Our house has now gone over a year since our final car payment and we still only have one small car (VW GTi). I estimate that commuting by bike has saved my family at least $10k since I purchased it last year by avoiding the extra expense of paying for, running and maintaining a second automobile. I am thinking of adding a StokeMonkey though to allow me to push the number of days I use the Dummy each week. I currently use it 2 times to commute and use other lighter bikes in between.

Sean's ride. Dig the front wheel, and the latte' rack.

Wes M:
"As you requested on the surly blog here is a pic of my big dummy loaded up. I ordered it primarily to transport my bass rig around. I get a small 2x10inch speaker cab, a 700watt amp head, effects pedal board, bass and bag of useful stuff all on to it no problem. I do find as many reasons to use the bike as possible, I love how solid it all feels when it is loaded up. Cheers, Wes"

fred:
"Mini-van. Hauling kid and kid stuff to the grocery store, soccer games and family activities. I got tired of doing all the pedaling all the time so put on a piccolo so the child can help out. Also, I can bring along one of her friends and have a fresh stoker about every 20 minutes or so. -fred"

Atta boy fred. Work them kids.

More kids from Scottie D. I like to see the various things people have rigged for hauling kids. I'll be incorporating something of this kind into my BD soon.

Phaedrus:

That's just bad ass is what that is. Note the Bikes At Work trailer.

Ben from Northfield, like Phaedrus, has a Big Dummy and a Bikes At Work trailer. Clearly they are among those people committed to using their bikes whenever they can, and to stretching the idea of what "whenever they can" means. Check it:

Ben may be better known in these parts and certain cyberscapes as the dude who built a 36" sheeled mountain bike, of which I currently have no pictures.

And that brings us to Kronda, whose economy of communication I admired (sent no text whatsoever), responded with some vids and pix.

And finally on this subject, I would be derelict in my duties (moreso) if I did not include the efforts of one of Big Dummy's biggest fans, and one of my favorite Brits, Charlie The Bike Monger who, knowing us for the window licking mouth breathers that we are, decided to take it upon himself to start up a community discussion area concerning all things Big Dummy, and he calls it The Surly Big Dummy Society. That sounds classy. Questions: contact him by writing to Charlie@surlybigdummysociety.com. Just don't get him started on surfing, unless you actually want to talk about surfing. But maybe ask him about surfing on the back of a Big Dummy. And dig his infectious laff.

Thanks to all of you who sent me stories about how you use your Big Dummy. Sorry to those of you I did not include. It was already getting unwieldy. And for those of you who are not in the choir, I hope this has helped illustrate what you too might be able to do with such a machine. Hurl once reworked Gil Scott Heron's phrase to read 'The revolution will not be motorized.' Let's hope not. The Big Dummy is one way it doesn't have to be.

And this, this is for you. You know who you are.

2009-07-06T08:06:00.000-07:00

Even if you're not a resident of the U.S. of A., you have probably been kept awake for days by the incessant clatter of fireworks eminating from every crevice of our fair nation. Sorry about that. Though we do seem to have an itch for blowing things up in other places, normally the explosives are kept under lock and key by authorities such as the Army, the ATF, and, for farmers needing to blow boulders or stumps from their property, the local Farm and Fleet store (who do in fact carry C4 and blasting caps for just such purposes). But no, normally we do not drink lots of beer and give children access to M80s, Whistling Dixies, Black Cats, and the like.
Nonetheless, each and every July 4th we like to throw back a few dozen cold ones and hand over the explosives to our teenagers in celebration of the anniversary of our independence from our colonial overlords the Redcoats (who are now known as Our Friends) over 200 years ago. The recipe doesn't make much sense to me either, but it seems to have worked for decades and decades, so why would we mess with success? The drawbacks seem to be (1) a few days of noise of global proportions, and (2) a hangover such that teenagers lighting firecrackers for days on end can't move us from our beds, couches, or floors. It being Monday, however, we have finally begun to drag ourselves in to work and are yelling at the kids to give it a rest already.

Thanks to Another Satisfied Pugsely Rider In Burke, VA, for the photo, which I think captures the Spirit of '76 in high style, even though nothing appears to be on fire or about to explode. Barbie, holding a beer, riding a Pugsley while waving Ol' Glory. Lee Greenwood would be proud.

Also: do you live in MPLS? Did you get a bike ripped off? Because someone found a Surly in the bushes in NE MPLS and would like to find it's owner. Copy and paste this into your browser: http://minneapolis.craigslist.org/laf/1234180602.html

2009-07-01T12:51:00.001-07:00

You don't have to be a Fleck or a Dave (see bike camping posts below) to enjoy good time bicycle participatory ridingness. Two stuffs you might enjoy coming up soon (MPLS local):

1) Bicycle Film Fest is coming up in like a week. Go to it. See movies. Cruise toward the fest on watever bike you choose to ride, joining up with more and more people on bikes as you get closer to your destination. Although you'd never know it by looking at the website, Surly is a main sponsor for the Minneapolis leg. Informations about films, schedules and locations may be found here.

2) Premier fine arts museum The Minneapolis Institute of Arts is hosting Bike Night At The MIA, part of their ongoing Third Thursdays series of events. Bikes, arts, entertainments, even beer, all packed into one spectacular evening. Go to it. The Eye Of Surly Commands you!

2009-06-30T10:51:00.000-07:00

I haven’t seen much of southern Minnesota from the saddle, so I decided to ride down to the Dirt Burger hootenanny in Decorah, IA…about 290km southeast of home. The LHT, shod with 700 x 40mm Michelin City tires, was my trusty mule for the trip to and from Decorah. I had my 1x1 shuttled to the event, so I’d have a more suitable mount for the hilly single-track, baseball diamond bucketball, rogue night rides, and derby circle antics.

I left Minneapolis around 3:00pm on Wednesday and rode toward Big Woods State Park, 85km down the road. My route took me on pavement and gravel, over hills and expansive prairies, through strip-mall littered-suburbia and, finally, into farm country. I arrived at the park around 8:30, filled up with water, and hustled to get my campsite organized before the sun completely set. After getting my gear squared away and making myself comfortable under my reflective-tarp lean-to, I cooked dinner, stoked the fire in the woodstove, and watched the incredible lightning show that kept the otherwise-pitch-black surroundings eerily and erratically lit until the wee hours.

My stove weighs less than 1.3kg, including the chimney, so I don’t mind toting it along on my outings. I’m always making modifications, and I look forward to field-testing the unit after each revision. The latest changes include relocation of the chimney to the front of the stove, the addition of a removable 75mm-tall pan at the bottom, and front draft holes. The efficiency of a stove, vs. an open fire, allows me to gather an evening’s wood supply in 5-10 minutes. The 1.5m chimney keeps smoke out of my eyes and lungs. And I can save Esbit fuel tabs by cooking evening meals and boiling questionable water on the woodstove.

I packed up Thursday afternoon and left Big Woods after a 2-hour hike over the park’s hilly terrain. Relentless headwinds kept my average speed low, and I was nowhere near the day’s planned 125k goal, Lake Louis State Park, as the evening light waned. I scrambled for a place to set up camp for the night. But after searching side roads for an hour and failing to find a suitable spot, I decided to keep on pedaling toward the park. It turned out to be one of my favorite parts of the trip.

Traffic was almost nonexistent on old highway 56, the wind had almost stopped, stars filled the cloudless sky overhead, and another incredible lightning storm lit up the heavens southeast of me. The storm kept moving away from me, so I never caught the rain. As I rode down the center of the highway with my lights off, fireflies lit the ditches on both sides of me. Beautiful, quiet, surreal….fantastic. At 1am, I reached the park and made camp in the pea soup fog that hung in the still, moisture-saturated air. Not motivated to set up the woodstove, I made a small fire in the stove’s pan and heated water, in my stainless water bottle, to rehydrate a late dinner. Amp’d from the ride, I couldn’t sleep. So I stoked the fire and drank decaf tea until 4:30am. At 5 bells, sleep found me, and I crashed out until 10am.

After a long hike through the hardwood forest and over the prairies of the state park, I started on the final 77k push toward Decorah. I pedaled for a few hours and stopped for lunch at a small bar and grill in Lime Springs. The friendly locals sent me off on a route that promised to be relatively traffic-free and end on a winding, hilly, scenic section of nice blacktop. South winds hampered my progress a bit, but I managed to roll into Decorah around 6pm. It didn’t take long to find Dirt Burger home base…a troll camp, filled with familiar trolls, under a bridge, next to the river. Perfect.

Thursday’s rain had softened the off-road trails, so Friday’s promised night ride happened on pavement instead of dirt. I didn’t mind, because I knew we’d be riding dirt on Saturday. After ripping down local streets, checking out the ice cave, and visiting Dunning’s Spring Park, we returned to troll camp for a late night of fire, beer, and Maker’s Mark in the company of old and new friends.

I woke up early Saturday morning, because 1) I was really dehydrated and 2) my Golite Hex 3, like most of the tents, was set up in a field with no shade, and it quickly turned into a sauna as the sun rose. I moved my groundcloth and pad outside and into the shadow of the single-pole nylon tipi to get a couple more hours of sleep in the cooler outside air.

After I made breakfast and moved my shelter into the shade of the bridge, the crew got motivated to ride some dirt single-track…which conveniently started right across the river from where we were camped. The local guys guided us and schooled us on their home turf. The Decorah trails are well-built and well-routed. Tree roots, log piles, steep climbs and descents, and tight switchbacks keep it challenging and fun. The final decent was a sweet rollercoaster ride back to pavement that put a lasting smile on my face.

I filled the rest of Saturday with a much-needed dunk in the river, eating, drinking, a challenging bout of bucketball, a Jedi ride up the bluff to watch dirt-track car racing, a huge campfire, and late-night entertainment by The Skip Bernet and Tuff Russell Musical Love Explosion. I was asleep by 2am, but the party went on for another 2-3 hours.

Waking up refreshed from a well-deserved slumber, I immediately started packing up my stuff in preparation for a ride to meet up with Lynn, Noah, and my in-laws at the home of Lynn’s grandparents, 78km up the road. I needed to be in Ostrander, MN by 4pm, so we could have an early dinner together and complete the 2-hour drive back to Minneapolis by 10pm. It was apparent that the planned 10am group ride to Bluffton, a town which is conveniently located on my return route, wasn’t going to leave on time. So I filled my water bottles, said my goodbyes, and headed out toward Bluffton, solo, under threatening skies.

The light on-and-off showers were refreshing, and I finally got a push from an eastern tailwind. I kept a good pace up and down the hills on Bluffton Rd. At one point, I had to duck into a machine shed for 20 minutes to escape heavy rain, but it seemed like the worst weather stayed south of me. Calories, from a greasy burger in Harmony, and the prevailing tailwind pushed me into Ostrander at 3:45. In a way, it felt good to be done with the ride. It was Father’s Day, and I was happy to see Noah. The shower and clean clothes felt great. And my ass was sore from my time in the saddle. But part of me wanted to keep going for a couple more days.

Bike touring/camping is addicting, and I’m craving more of that multi-day 2-wheel smack. Fortunately, there’s an endless supply in any direction. And it can be obtained year ‘round, if one has the right gear and mindset to seek it.

2009-06-24T00:01:00.000-07:00

Every year our extended clan unites in a suitable bike-friendly location to hang out for a long weekend and tool around on two-wheelers. That provides fun for the kids, parents and grandparents alike. It’s pretty cool that I dig my in-laws, so this trip is something I generally look forward to.

This year we downscaled a bit and eschewed meeting in a “bike destination town,” usually meaning somewhere in SE Minnesota or across the river in Wisconsin. Instead, everyone elected to come north from Iowa to the SixOneTwo. Maybe we brag on our trails and easily accessible bike trips too much. All of a sudden we were put on the spot and had to come up with a plan.

A number of Minneapolis cyclists have discovered a spot west of the city – a quaint campground tucked away in Carver Park Reserve. We began making this destination a once or twice-a-year family trip a few seasons ago. The 25-mile voyage is almost entirely comprised of dedicated bike paths. The trail (an old rail bed) bee lines through dense canopy, marshy wetlands and prairie while passing through a few cool old towns that have been progressively sucked into the ‘burbs. But from the trail, you’d hardly know it. It’s very scenic, peaceful riding.

We pitched the idea to the family. They took the bait. A plan was hatched and the days crossed off until it was time to get into gear. Half the clan made it clear they weren’t into camping and opted to book a nearby hotel instead. We stuck to our guns and had no intention of missing the real adventure of our urban excursion – loading everything onto bikes and getting there under our own power.

Now, our immediate family situation has grown a bit since we last pulled this off. Specifically we have an extra kid and all her attendant trappings to add into the mix. But the last time we made this trip the Big Dummy hadn’t yet been introduced. Problem solved. Implying, perhaps, there’d never really been a problem in the first place, merely a misperception.

Basically we had two adult engines, four-year-old and one-year-old living cargo units, clothing, tent, sleeping bags and pads, as well as complete camp hardware for four. And all of it had to fit on two bikes. No issue. We had some room left over. Hell, I even packed a hammock, a rain tarp, two backpacking stoves with fuel AND threw in a 10” cast iron Dutch oven to flaunt the load hauling capabilities of my rig. Don’t forget the camp axe, a kite, extra shoes, swimming trunks and a couple of books.

Ready to roll ...

“The Rig” was my Dummy with Burley attached – a vehicle with combined length only 1 foot shorter than our aging Subaru wagon. This bike/trailer combo afforded accommodation for both kids at once (one in the trailer and one on the Snapdeck). I have a Nice Rack installed up front that held two lighter panniers (clothing, sleeping bag) and a rack-top trunk bag for quick access stuff like first aid, sunscreen and repair kit. Out back I mounted one Adventure Rack on the non-drive side for panniers (kitchen gear and sleeping bags) and the standard Freeloader on the drive side with a Wideloader to stabilize the tent and other gear bags we’d rearrange depending on necessary kid seating. The Wideloader also served to haul firewood once we hit camp.

Mom has a rear-mount child carrier on her bike. That allowed us to rotate kids for napping, or to give them a change of scenery when they got cranky. In order to keep a spot open I’d shuffle the forward pannier when needed allowing our oldest girl a perfect seat with generous leg room atop the deck. Her chair was augmented by a homemade backrest – three sleeping pads lashed lengthwise. The Dutch oven, diaper bag and some food and beer we picked up along the way fit perfectly in the back of the Burley. All Mom had to carry was two clothing bags in a BOB trailer and either a kid or a pannier in the rear kid seat. I could have fit it all on the Dummy, and would have done so if only for reasons of pure bravado. But she wanted to do her part. Plus she typically has a knack for keeping me from doing foolish things for no good reason.

Deluxe seating with a questionable view.

With all the gear loaded I have to admit I was a bit skeptical how enjoyable the ride would be. As I straddled the bike and gave our oldest daughter the cue to climb on, the weight on the front fork was what I noticed the most. But as soon as we pushed off into the alley and onto the street I had the same conclusion I always do when I load the Dummy in some funky new and crazy way – it can handle it. And not just handle it okay, but handle it in style. When we turned onto the open bike path I was also impressed with the speed I could carry. A slight, mostly favorable wind helped a bit, but I could easily crank the 200+lbs of kids and gear along at an average of 13-14mph. The look on other cyclists’ faces as we rang our bells and maneuvered the human-powered land train around them was priceless.

We made it to the campground without a hitch. Once camp was firmly staked down, the Dummy didn’t stay parked for long. I used it to take the kids and Mom for laps around the grounds, fetch water, tote wood and pedal 16 miles round trip to restock food and beverages halfway through the weekend. Other campers stared, many even commented and I was happy to discuss the bike with them. I’m sure more than a few were a little freaked out. Perhaps some even thought it was silly.

Convertible family van.

Then again lots of things never cease to amaze me when I spend a few nights at a drive-in campground. I am accustomed to and prefer backcountry experiences. But I am in love with camp life and the art of running a camp, so I’ll pursue those tasks in almost any spot where I can pitch a shelter, cook over and tend a fire. Everyone else around us might have had the impression they were camping, but few really seemed to embrace it. How can you when you center your existence around something as unnatural, technology-driven and wasteful as an automobile?

I’d rise early and get the kettle going. Inevitably a few cars would crank up, campers would drive out and 20 minutes later return with disposable coffee cups and donuts or fast food they’d fetched in town for breakfast. Our neighbors slept in their cars. The party across the way appeared to drive home for the night and return the following day to play cards and sit by the fire for a few hours before driving home again to a familiar bed. Everyone around us used their cars countless times per day for something or other.

Maybe I should lighten up. But I’d take a stab that these words don’t ring hollow among the Surly blog audience – plain and simple, there’s merit in creating an adventure for the sake of an adventure. And achieving that requires a moderate amount of challenge. Getting to a campground in a car is not a challenge (unless packing a trunk tends to freak you out). But getting the whole family there by bike presented some logistical speed bumps. In the end everything fit on the bikes. We belched no carbon into the atmosphere, got a little exercise and created an experience for the kids that was much more fun than being strapped into a car seat for an hour or so. Not only did everything get there aboard bikes, but everything we needed for the whole weekend could be obtained aboard the Dummy.

Human-powered self containment – that’s pretty sweet.

How I Spent My Dirt Burger

2009-06-22T06:58:00.000-07:00

I arrived home on Saturday evening to my beloved family, suddenly realizing that I had been on some magical journey, roused by my son asking me what the heck I'd been doing in Iowa. I suppose everyone who travels to Iowa gets asked this question upon their return, but my guess is that most of them spent their time sampling Amish churned butter and frolicking in fields of corn as tall as giants.

Let's just say this was not my experience. I attended Dirk Diggler, the first ever bike event of any kind held in the state of Iowa. I wasn't even planning to go until, as if by some miracle, my lovely wife gave me what some fellers refer to as the "green light" late on Friday morning. Luckily, I had shown up for work prepared for this rare occasion, having snuck out to the garage the night before after putting the kids to bed to pack my bike and hobo sack.

After pressuring Phil Raitt into abandoning his job duties and his family to attend this unholy event with me, we were headed south on hwy 52 for Decorah, arriving there at around 4:00. Needless to say our first stop was the Whippy Dip.

We got word that a gathering of cyclists was assembled under a bridge down by the river, so we headed down there to find just that. Next thing I remember was this guy falling down in one particularly slippery patch of mud:

Not long after, Johnny handed me my first cool one:

Thank you Johnny...

Then a chill of tomfoolery fell upon the gang, inspiring us to pose awkwardly whilst showing off our tattoos:

Pie Plow materialized from a cloud of smoke with a big load of something (or was it just a dream?):

I'm not saying there weren't some uncomfortable moments. Just sayin':

These fellers looked lost:

Oh yes, I mustn't forget that we rode our bikes. On trails. Really slow.

Jesse rode the log without falling down:

Dirty Cop Rode the trails and only fell down three times (but sadly not while I was taking photos):

Boy howdy did we have us some fun!

There are many other tales to be told, but alas this is about all I can squeeze out right now, so you'll just have to believe me when I say that no one got killed, although I can't say that they didn't come close. It's like my momma always said, "the sharpest light bulb don't fall far from the shed."

I never did know what momma meant when she said that.

2009-06-19T06:42:00.000-07:00

The Dirt Burger is officially underway here in Decorah - sort of.

Last night the first installment of yay-hoo behavior commenced with the early arrival of the pre-planning committee, T-Rock, B-Pauer, Pre-Nate-al, and R Dead-to-my-Hart (who wore his best Iowa camoflage - wife beater and no shoes). They showed up to put a scare into some local trout streams before the bike things happen. Although, after seeing the lights come on at the Corner Bar last night, I can't imagine that the local fish are in any great peril - at least not before noon.

Things got off to a proper midwest start with a terrifying display of lightning and bucket-style downpours. Fortunately, growlers of IPA from the Town Hall were smuggled across the Iowa line and that made the "huddling under Rich's hammock" feel less unseemly.

Bikes were assembled and the arduous 1.3 mile (how many kilometers is that Dave?) grind to T-Bock's was made under suddenly clearing skies. We LaBronned Peanuts into one another's Schmitty's ($5.50 a pitcher thank you) and the salty goodness didn't seem to adversely affect the "taste" one bit. Hell Bent for Trevor DJed in a fashion that will likely not soon be forgotten in this quiet town. Neil Diamond went straight into a Judas Priest set that shook the very foundations.

Then it was on to the Haymarket (1.9 blocks) for some true local flavor. In true local style it was already closed. The Corner Bar (an additional 1.3 blocks) had to do and we had fun watching the oh-so-nearly-Amish T-slice get recruited for a game of tippy cup. We concurred that it's been a long time since any of us have needed some sort of challenge to increase the velocity of our drinking.

I headed up the hill shortly after the air horn sounded its second blast and the lights revealed what we had truly stumbled upon. I'm pretty sure I gave the fellers the right directions back to the campground.

Look for more updates as the weekend progresses. Or don't.

-skip

2009-06-09T13:41:00.000-07:00

Please don't remember to not attend this event:

-skip

2009-06-08T14:21:00.000-07:00

Friday's weather was perfect for a bike ride and an overnight stay by the river. I packed up the Long Haul Trucker with full panniers and the woodstove and attached Noah's Burley Piccolo to its Piccolo-compatible rear rack.

On the way to our campsite, we happened upon two spots where mama snapping turtles were laying their eggs along the trail. They seemed too busy tending to their motherthy duties to really care about us. I told Noah that we should put on our fuzzy duckling sock puppets and wave them in front of the turtles' faces to entertain them while they labored in the dirt, but he wasn't buying it.

The sun was getting close to the treeline, and coyotes were howling nearby as we agreed on an area to leave the trail and look for a place to make camp for the evening. As I was setting up the tent, the little dude's eyelids began to droop. A full day of school, riding 25km, and bushwhacking had wiped him out. After I got his pad inflated and his quilt laid out, he said he was "just going to take a little nap". Noah fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. I tried to wake him for a late snack. No dice. He was out for the night.

Before retiring to my air mattress (Big Agnes Insulated Air Core...thumbs up), I spent the evening in a reflective tarp lean-to...set up to block the north wind and bounce heat back at me ... stoking the wood stove, cooking food, sipping tea, gazing at an almost-full moon, watching fireflies, listening to the critters, and thinking about stove improvements and primitive shelter designs.

The rain started early Saturday morning. Our roomy shelter, a floorless single-pole GoLite Hex 3, allows us to camp rather comfortably regardless of the weather. We cooked and ate breakfast, packed up our stuff, and played 'Go Fish' in the tent while we waited for the rain to stop. Realizing it probably wasn't going to let up, we prepared for the weather at hand. Noah doesn't have good, dedicated rain gear...yet, so I layered him up in a combination of his clothes and my clothes and hoped it would be adequate to keep the rain out until we got home.

We started off in good spirits. The trail was soft and slow, but we made decent progress as the rain continued. Three more mama snapping turtles were on the trail doing their thing that morning. After 12 kilometers, Noah was starting to suffer from the wet and cold conditions. He wasn't going to last another 13k in the continuing rain. But I knew that we could duck under the freeway bridge about a kilometer down the trail. To keep him going, I did my best to assure the wet rat that we were close to some relief from rain.

When we reached the bridge, Noah helped me get a fire going. I usually let him start the fires now, so he can practice using the fire-starting tools...waterproof matches, butane lighter, flint/steel, or magnifying lens...from his ever-evolving survival kit. We quickly removed his wettest clothes and got him into some dry socks and a dry sweatshirt. The frowns quickly turned into smiles as he warmed up by the fire, sitting on a broken wooden chair, while waiting for his noodles and hot cocoa. Appropriately, we also made a hobo pie, on the fire, for dessert. Two hours passed under the bridge. We were warm and relatively dry, and we had some calories in us. Plus, the rain was letting up a bit. It was time to make the final push for home.

Energized from our layover, we enjoyed the last leg of the ride. Noah and I arrived home about an hour after our departure from the bridge...wet, dirty, tired, and happy that we'd made the decision to play outside while most of the city hid from the elements.

2009-06-03T06:29:00.000-07:00

"I can't do with any more education. I was full up years ago."
-P.G. Wodehouse, The Code of the Woosters

1) The lovely and talented Ms. Bloggins, chief of zoology and potentate at the International House of Cornflakes of NE MPLS, sends a review of a book I have not read (Pedaling Revolution: How Cyclists Are Changing American Cities by Jeff Mapes) but which, after reading the review, I would like to. The article, by David Byrne (yes, that David Byrne) is itself well formed, smart and neat. He writes, "Toward the end of the book, Mapes gets into debates over bike lanes (are they really safer?), safety rules (should cyclists have to obey stop signs?) and traffic ideologies (should cyclists claim a full space in a lane, or stick to the edge of the road?) that only an obsessive or an advocate (hello!) is likely to be interested in. But the debates he presents may end up helping us all."

2) The lovely and talented Ms. Bloggins also forwards this warbling chickadee. Take the opportunity this sunday between 11 and 2 to absolve at least your bike of its worldly sins and transgressions even if you yourselves cannot overcome your foul mouths and bad attitudes. "Our Lady of Blessed Acceleration, don't fail me now." -Jake Blues

3) Hippie lawyer, albino sasquatch and all around good egg, M. Moore esq. sends word that, "New Belgium Brewing is bringing their “Fat Tire Tour” to Parade Stadium in Minneapolis this July 18th. There will be a bicycle parade around beautiful Lake of the Isles ON A CLOSED PARKWAY! Yes bikes will rule the road for a couple hours anyway. This is a family and charity event and proceeds will go to MORC, The Greenway Coalition and Bicycle Alliance of Minnesota. New Belgium is estimating that 3000 riders will show up, I think they are a little low, this will be “the place to be on a bike” on July 18th."

4) The place to be two days before that will be Minneapolis Institute of Art's Tour de Force, a ride to the museum from One On One Studio, with valet (oo lala!) bike parking provided by Freewheel MPLS when you arrrive at the museum, allowing your worry free enjoyment. Partake of refreshing Surly beer (no relation) prior to the ride, get in a nice evening cruise with like-minded gentry, and upon arrival watch the 1948 Italian Neorealist movie The Bike Thief, dig on music by Kid Dakota, tour the art within, and potentially win 'prizes' from Nutcase helmets, Twin Six graphic apparel, and even a Surly bike. The flier has even more stuff listed on it too. As a wise man once told me: Art is a fart in the park after dark. Class up. Formal attire, though not required, I would consider apropos.

5) Hello God It's Me Johnny and I have lately been locking ourselves for days on end in the climate controlled, flourescent, deep rock bunker in the bowels of Surly Intergalactic HQ, which is located next door to the First Church of Corrugated Aluminum and directly across the street from Ted's Fine Shelves in the scenic Oxygen Riche district of the planet Pluto (technically no longer a planet). Theoretically the mission is the frankenstein-like creation of a possible product offering. I've been typing manifestos like they're going out of style, angrily striking keys with plastic shattering determination such that I have had to have my keyboard replaced 4 times. Johnny's been rubbing his hands together and making that Mwa-ha-ha-ha! laughing sound a lot. His latest intrabasement email memo to me (our desks, mind you, are 4 meters apart) reads in part, "I think whatever we come up with should have a lot more braze-ons. What’s that for? Pump. What’s that for? Spokes. What’s that for? Firecrackers. What’s that for? Final Solution. Huh? I mean the final solution to me getting wasted on Tequila. Ok, cool, what’s that for? Spare tight pants." Though only begun, I remain confident that we can keep drinking until something makes sense. Even the most absurd theories have occasional anomolies of pattern which look sufficiently like they originate from intelligent consideration. Meanwhile, the list supplied at one of the more recent Surly staff meetings shows projects being worked on by Dave and Nick which we hope will make bike nerds drool and paw at the glass. Lots of ideas in the firing tube. Some later, some sooner, all good.

6)

7) How do you use your Big Dummy? Send me a brief letter and a photo. I can be contacted by using your computer machine to write to andy@surlybikes.com.

8) Don't forget, 1x1=11. That only happens..uh...let's see carry the 8...square root that beeyotch...once. Quantities are limited, and the ride is sublime.

9) Pew! Pew pew!! (laser sounds)

"I just sit at the typewriter and curse a bit."
-P.G. Wodehouse on his writing technique

2009-06-01T07:07:00.000-07:00

Lately I haven't so much been getting rad as I have been getting dad.

-Skip

Surly Bitches

2009-05-27T12:18:00.000-07:00

The hairiest of Surly, just barely.

There are two Surly employees you've probably never heard of. This does not mean they are not doing important jobs, quite the contrary.

Meet Gigi

Here we see Gigi testing our Endomorph tires for sidewall durability and wet weather performance. After this test we also learned that dog blood shows up suprisingly well on an Endomorph. Gigi didn't care. Gigi belongs to Johnny. They both enjoy product testing, being aggressive, whining when left alone, drinking beer, and humping. Johnny's spring project has been teaching Gigi to ride in a trailer and wear a backpack. Discuss.

Meet Wilma

Wilma's pretty good at nosing her ball in everyone's crotch until you throw it for her. Andy falls for this most often...not a suprise. It's worth mentioning that Wilma's only got front wheel drive, as she lost one of her rear legs as a puppy. So, when Andy tossed the ball a little too close to Nick's cube wall, Wilma did the ultimate butt powerslide into the wall while trying to stop. The wall moved about 6 inches, the dog freaked, and about 30 cans toppled to the floor. Retriever that she is, Wilma started picking up all the cans and delivering them to us. Good girl.

Stock update.

We just received some fancy new things. Black Steamroller frames and complete bikes are in stock and they look real nice. You can order one up today from your favorite local bike shop.

2009-05-21T09:40:00.000-07:00

Fruita. Sounds delicious just saying it. But when you venture westward, go there and place your feet on the pedals, wheels in the track and ride; when you feel the moisture sucked out of your body; when the dust creeps in and the taste of the trail permeates your entire being; when you find yourself alone at twilight with the western desert on fire before your very eyes and a few miles of beautiful, empty trail still ahead; when you replenish at days’ end in the company of friends old and new AND the next day presents a chance to do it all over again – only then will you realize this place is magical.

I am no gonzo MTBer or gear geek. Sure, full-squishy wonderbikes are de rigueur in Fruita (and the rest of the MTB world for that matter). I suppose they’re nice. Maybe I should ride one sometime. But, you see, I love my 1X1, thank you.

This was my second time in Fruita for the Fat Tire Fest. My first trip out I almost took the bike with its rigid fork and all. Some friends talked me into installing a Reba. I can fully appreciate that slice of technology, but it never crosses my mind to bemoan a single gear. I don't find myself wanting to curse my way up the occasional steep climb I’ve had to hop off and walk. Admittedly, I chuckle to myself a little when a rider is trailside with a geared bike upside down trying to fix some drivetrain snafu. Sure, I help out, but after I gently rub it in that I haven't been experiencing any derailleur problems ...

Some folks I’ve talked to dismiss singlespeeding as a dying fad or an outright exercise in futility. While I’ll admit I pride myself in learning to do well many things others regard as senseless or impractical, I’d argue the Zen-like joy of singlespeeding is neither. But I don’t need to convince you. Even though sometimes it seems to me that most of those left in the singlespeed mountain crowd have moved onto exotic materials and custom frames, I figure they’re still grooving for the same reasons. They’re grinning too when they fly past a geared rider on a climb or ride up on someone’s fully suspended arse on a descent.

Fancy singlespeeds that cost more than all the cars I’ve ever owned sure look purdy and I bet they ride nice, too. But I’ll happily spend my money on beer and more bike bits. The 1X1 rocks – still, after all these years. I was reminded of that yet again in Fruita a couple of weeks ago. If you get the chance to go, do it. Just don’t be afraid to run what you brung.

A view from Rustlers, the perfect casual wind down loop before heading back to the car.

Brother Nick showing us all how it's done aboard the Karate Monkey. On and off the trail, he was on his game all week.

You can check out more photos. (Sorry ... titles coming soon.)

Special thanks to Troy and Sarah, as well as the entire staff and crew at Over the Edge. Your hospitality, friendship and kindness are a big part of what make this grand industry of ours go 'round.

2009-05-21T08:12:00.000-07:00

It was on this date in 1927 that Charles Lindberg landed The Spirit of St. Louis at 10:22pm on Le Bourget Field, thirty three and one half hours after takeoff from Roosevelt Field in Long Island, New York, completing the world's first transatlantic flight. 300 people in New York witnessed his takeoff and thought they had seen a minor miracle occur, since his plane was so heavily laden with fuel it almost didn't make it off the ground in time to clear a string of telephone lines at the edge of Roosevelt Field. Upon landing, however, a crowd of 50,000 gorgeous women and 50,000 short, creepy men with pencil-mustaches and baguettes rushed his plane in jubilation (causing him to cut the engine post haste lest members of the teeming throng be chopped to mush by the propeller), and carried Lucky Lindy off the field on their shoulders. This feat was astonishing in its day, a marathon for Lindy and the marker of a major advance in industry and technology. Notable for our purposes is that airplanes were invented by bicycle mechanics.

It was a scant 25 years to the day later that a little baby was born sporting a mohawk, lots of gold jewelry, and tons of attitude. Mr. T turns 57 today. As Emily pointed out, I pity the fool who don't know that.

2009-05-05T23:07:00.000-07:00

The completion of a new stove, early last week, prompted me to pack up the Pug and take the scenic route to work, incorporating an overnight stay along the river en route.

The Pugsley was definetely suited to the low spots on the trail where river juice and a previous day’s light rain had turned the riverbank soil into slick, brown gumbo. Epic Designs frame bags, an Old Man Mountain front rack, and minimalist, modified Axiom panniers gave me ample room to securely carry all my gear over varying terrain.

When the sun dipped behind the horizon, I found a sweet site, 200 meters from the trail, and set up for the evening.

Once again, my Hennessy Hammock was the chosen shelter, because it's a dependable vehicle to sweet dreams. It took me a couple years and some long, cool, sleep-deprived nights to figure out how to stay warm in this shelter when temperatures hover in the freezing range. But after a lot of experimentation with many kinds of insulation, I’ve found that the use of Hennessy’s Undercover and Underpad, in conjunction with top and bottom quilts, creates one of the most comfortable beds I’ve used out of doors in the spring, summer, and fall seasons. A form-fitting, purpose-made underquilt is on the upgrade wish list.

The newest stove, measuring 15cm in diameter x 30cm high, was positioned near the base of one of the trees supporting the hammock. I made this woodburner from three large coffee cans: 2 for the firebox, 1 cut apart for the door and miscellaneous bits. The firebox separates into 2 parts, so I can store my chimney, full Klean Kanteen, and rolled-up sitting pad inside it during transport. The internal pressure from the stored items keeps the stove from collapsing or denting when it is strapped to the top of my bike rack. It features an almost-airtight firebox, due to a close-fitting door and spotwelded construction, and a baffle to keep the flame from shooting directly up the chimney.

Like my other stoves, this one is designed around the following criteria:

* Low weight
* Fast, tool-free assembly
* Construction from low-cost or free, easy-to-find materials
* Easy to transport on foot or bike
* The means to boil water in a Klean Kanteen
* Accommodations for my 130cm-tall roll-up stainless chimney

I’m not concerned about the stove’s ability, or lack thereof, to boil a liter of water in 5 minutes. I simply want to heat a small shelter or protected outdoor space with a small amount of wood, compared to an open campfire. If I get 500ml of water boiling in 20 minutes, I’m satisfied. The light and heat given off from one of these low-budget units adds to the camping experience, not unlike an open fire, while giving me the ability to control the combustion rate, focus the radiated heat, route the smoke up and away from my lungs, and keep the sparks confined to the firebox and chimney.

The first firing was a success, but I have some fine-tuning and reinforcing to do before the next outing. This isn’t the perfect stove, of course. It is, instead, a fast, inexpensive way to test design concepts in the field. The construction and design of the next stove will likely be much different than the current one. Eventually, I’ll settle upon a list of specifications and features that will warrant the purchase of durable materials and justify the time investment required to build a stove that will last a number of years in the field.

Good weather and an understanding spouse have allowed me to camp out one night per week for the last 4 weeks. I don’t need to disappear for a week at a time. The 24-hour outings satisfy my desire to test/tweak my gear and enjoy some quiet time in the woods, without drastically disrupting my home and work life. If the weather forecast doesn’t drastically change, I’ll be back out there in a couple of days...making fire and geeking out on the design of the vessel that harbors it.

2009-05-05T16:25:00.000-07:00

When my friend told me he was getting married on the same weekend as the Fruita Fat Tire Festival weekend, I questioned his choice to even get married.

"Would you get married on the fishing day opener?" I asked

"Hell no" he replied

"Then what's your problem, don't you know that's the most Fruitarded weekend of the year?" I scolded

"Can you grow a beard and get a nice suit for the wedding?" he asked

"Sure, anything for you, except the beard part" I responded. And I accepted the fact that I'd miss Fruita that year. As it turned out, the wedding was awesome, but it was three years until I finally got back to Fruita.

Sov, Fleck, Pieplow and myself were enlisted this year to go stone-cold rep our crap for the weekend. You know, really cram our product down the throats of unsuspecting people. Tell them our 0.3% carbon technology tubing will make them look faster and ride hipper.

But you know, that's really not our style. Sleep deprivation, long rides, leaving the party late, comparing the # of turds for the day with your friends, laughing until it hurts and keeping Tater from giving you whisker kisses are pretty much our style. I'll just let the photos do the talking. But if you ever get a chance to ride your bike in Fruita, do it.

Nick's Fruita photos here

2009-04-28T10:42:00.000-07:00

Although riding season doesn't exactly stop around here despite approximately 5 months of very long, very cold winter, it is not without some sense of relief that locals look forward to the warmer temperatures which are only now beginning to stir.
Some of us couldn't wait and headed to Fruita, Colorado, for the annual Fruita Fat Tire Fest, where the trails call your name and the sun shines almost daily. I was not among that group this year, however, and will let them recover and then (hopefully) regale you all with stories of high times and epic rides.
The rest of us will have to keep our eyes open for coffin jockeys and dream about upcoming nourishment for our cycling selves.

While you're dreaming your little dreams and planning all your summer daze, consider that the organizers of the LynLake Festival in uptown MPLS request the honour of your presence. They highly encourage bike use in and around their section of the planet, both for the event and in general, and this is something I think we can all agree is a good idea. If you have tried to drive in uptown any time in the last decade, you will appreciate why this is a worthy goal.

For you art lovers out there, a little birdy told me recently that world class art museum the Minneapolis Institute of Arts is planning a shindig mid-summer involving a group ride to the museum, followed by drinks and movies. And of course you are encouraged to stop in and feed your soul by perusing their collection of staggeringly beautiful works of fine art, an experience you should try and work into your regular routine. The more you see it, the more you understand it. The more you understand it, the more parallels you will find in explaining your own existence. Not bad. More on this as developments warrant.

And don't forget the Bicycle Film Fest, which promises not only many new and kick ass bicycle related movies, but also the chance to show your colors at one of the most comprehensive cyclist gatherings in these parts, drawing everyone from casual cyclists to hardcores of all stripes. In itself, this is beautiful to see and be part of. Local dates not yet announced, but again you will find details right here as we know them. Stay tuned.

Soon, my chickadees, soon.

2009-04-20T14:12:00.000-07:00

Friday’s warm temperature prompted me to take most of the day off to pack up the Pug with camping gear, ride kilometers of dirt trails, and set up camp at a stealth shoreline spot as the sun set behind the trees shrouding the trail.

I like fire when I camp. It’s one of the things that creates an enjoyable night in the woods. But it’s dry here. So I brought the paintcan stove to keep my fire in check. The stove was set up near my hammock, in a wet area, to further diminish the chances of starting grass or brush on fire. In addition to reducing the risk of starting an unwanted blaze, the stove heats water in my Klean Kanteen. It allows me to use less firewood, while enjoying more focused heat and sucking in less smoke than I normally would with an open fire. When properly elevated, the stove doesn’t leave burn marks on the ground. And the ashes are easily spread or buried, so I can leave the campsite looking like it did before I arrived.

As my evening meal (Mountain House seafood chowder) was rehydrating in its foil pouch, I searched my cooking kit to discover that I’d neglected to repack my folding Ti spork after I’d washed it that morning. The thought of eating dinner and Saturday’s breakfast without a spoon pushed me to find a replacement for the missing utensil. While combing the site for a piece of wood that could potentially become a spoon…with a bit of whittling, I glanced over at the empty Boddingtons beer can lying on the ground in front of the Pug. From that can came this…

I folded the sharp edges over and crimped them down with my Leatherman pliers to avoid tongue and lip lacerations. The finished product isn’t pretty, but it worked. No spoon-induced mouth injuries to report.

Other than the lack of a spoon, my cooking kit served me well again. The 500ml pot holds everything I need to boil water for a couple of meals. I can include 3 additional Esbit solid fuel tabs inside the pot, if the handkerchief lives outside of the pot. 6 Esbit tabs will typically boil enough water to make 4-6 meals, depending on my entrée choices and my desire for tea or coffee with my meals. Of course, I heat water in the Klean Kanteen, if there’s a fire ablazin’. More often than not, I use less than 50% of my allotted fuel on a trip. I’m not limited to Esbit with this kit. A small alcohol stove and 150ml of alcohol fit inside the pot in place of the solid fuel tabs and stove. Alcohol is cleaner and faster than Esbit, but it’s more temperature-sensitive. Esbit is less prone to flare-ups, and it won’t spill...a plus when one is forced to cook in a vestibule due to unfavorable weather conditions.

One key to low-hassle, impromptu overnight camping trips is knowing the limitations of your gear. After years of refinement, my cooking kit is a known quantity. It rarely changes, and if it does, the change is a subtle upgrade. Plus, it’s physically small, so I can always find a spot for it in a backpack, frame bag, or pannier. Down the road, I hope to build the same confidence in the rest of my gear.

2009-04-20T11:05:00.000-07:00

I'm not trying to brag when I say Surly has fans all over the world. We're not just talking about happy Surly riders either, but hungry folks looking for Surly bits and pieces: Mr B from Irkutsk, Russia desperately seeking a Pugsley; a man in Zagreb, Croatia looking to get an LHT; Andrea lamenting the inability to find a complete Big Dummy in Italy. These aren't the sorts of things one can make up. Similar emails roll in regularly and it's astounding really. I guess this fancy Interweb has woven our global fabric a bit tighter, in some ways at least.

A short while ago we got an email from Parn in Bangkok looking for some LHTs. He found a source and has been going on his merry way I suppose. Well, I just got an update from him last week. Being as I live in a leaden cave that blocks the transmission of most news media I had to research the back story. I've hyperlinked for your edification:

Dear my friends around the world,

Just send some photos that you may have been never see on the news.
After they move the burned buses out of the road at noon. We back to celebrate our new year festival on the same road in the evening.
That's Thai people !!

See you someday
Parn

Parn attached 15 photos composed of such bizarre juxtaposition I thought perhaps I hadn't fully slept off the remnants of the weekend. I did a quick inventory to set my mind at ease:

Pulse? Check.

Day of Week? Monday, check.

Made it to work? Check.

Leaking fluids? Negative, check.

Fully clothed? Check.

I think it's gonna be a long, interesting week. Particularly since a butcher's handful of us are headed to Fruita for the Fat Tire Fest where will drink in the sweet nectar of world-class singletrack. More on that later.

Happy Monday, Surly Folk ... wherever you are.

2009-04-09T08:30:00.000-07:00

Get up. Get on up.

2009-04-06T11:54:00.000-07:00

Ah, Tuesday. It's been a long, fat, cold, long, fat, long, cold, long winter and spring has taken its own sweet time getting here, resulting in even angrier drivers than normal around these parts. We're in Hit-N-Run season now, with drivers getting too close, clipping cyclists, and then scampering off without checking the damage. 612 pals Wrex, Nate, and Mark are still with us no thanks to the unchecked anger of people stuck in their coffins and in their own minds.
Corollary to that, Elliot M. found this story from his hometown newspaper. Angry driver bites off biker's ear? Jebus that's dark.
There are in fact far more considerate parties than not in cars and on bikes, and yet the bad side seems to grow ever angrier and more aggressive.

Nate, Wrex, and Mark ,this one's for you (and Johnny, too, even though he didn't get creamed by a car). Nate knows why:

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Hello God It's Me Johnny sent a story this morning entitled
FBI database links long-haul truckers, serial killings
"My gut feeling," Jennings said, "is that it's a trucker."
I think they're on to us.

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I can't remember if this has been mentioned or not. I'm sure it must have, but it's worth repeating. Have you any of our Junk Straps? They are extra long toe straps, basically like those straps used with now-retro toeclips except really long. They secure all kinds of stuff in all kinds of places. They can be cinched tight and hold fast. They make great handcuffs, should you encounter, for example, an unruly driver attempting to molest or batter your person. You can wear them like a belt if you're skinny. Bender inexplicably ignored the ready availability of regular length toe straps, not to mention the whole point of the Junk Strap's length, and cut his short like a regular toe strap to use as a cuff-keeper when riding in pants. They store small and hold big, and can be fastened together for even more holdingness. I keep some with my Big Dummy, in the bags, and I use them often. I keep them in my backback and they find plenty of use because they're there when I need them. I sent some to Martha Stewart, who finds them useful for holding up sapplings and splinting the broken forelegs of her horses Mob Gangsta and Bobby Kneecaps.

The originals were a giveaway at a tradeshow and we had extras, but we got enough requets for them that we made some improvements and now offer them for sale. They are 120cm long (the giveaways were 90cm), and the buckles are now stainless steel. They're in stock now. Visit your local bike shop if you'd like to get some.

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Last for today, this one goes out as editorial commentary to all the people -and there has been a vocal outpouring of them lately- who just don't get it. You don't know who you are.

2009-03-26T14:11:00.000-07:00

I know, I know. More than one blog post in a month? Are we on speed or something?

Here's the sitch:
The 1x1 Rat Ride, later renamed the Surly 1x1, was our very first frame. Holy crap. When was that? A lot has probably happened since then. We thought about it for a while with our tongues sticking out, sat down, chewed on our pencil stubs, did the math, and discovered that in the universal language of mathematics there is a simple equation to explain it.

1x1=11.

Hard to believe but Surly turns eleven years old this year.

Hardened blackhearts though we are, we nonetheless felt that a little nod to our staying power and your support over the years was in order. No, we're not buying you all drinks. In fact you'd need to buy this bike with real money. Still, we think many of you will take one look and agree it is fully rad. Consider, for example, 24 x 3" slicks on Large Marge rims. If that don't rev your deal you might need to check your pulse.

Though I am linking the associated webpage where you will find all you need to know about the Rat Ride 11 year anniversary bike, I feel the need to highlight that this is not necessarily a collector's piece. It is super fun to ride. If you have the means, I highly recommend picking one up and not letting it rot away protected from harm. Ride it. Love it. Go here for specs and and text. Please note that the photo is of a prototype and shows silver spokes and white hotpatches on the tires. The production version has red hotpatches and black spokes.

They are in stock now. Call up your local shop. Remember: there are not a ton of them available, and once they're gone they're gone.

Alright, back to my whitecross.

2009-03-25T07:07:00.000-07:00

We need to talk. I'm going to get this off my chest or else I will harbor resentment for something you probably aren't even aware you're doing (maybe not you, but someone you know). Unawareness is what mistakes are all about. I make mistakes all the time. I type too fast, don't proofread, etc. I get it. But seriously, when you use our name in print, like for an ad or something, try to get it right. Here is a short list of common errors. Print it out and keep it handy the next time you log on to praise or complain about us, and especially when you write to ask us for free stuff. It'll make you look smarter.

1) Surly, our name. No E. Not surely (surely you jest), not shirley, not surley (you're thinking of Burley perhaps?). A quick check of the definition of the word that is our name may help you understand things better: [sur-lee] –adjective, 1. churlishly rude or bad-tempered 2. unfriendly or hostile; menacingly irritable 3. dark or dismal; menacing; threatening. Get it? Got it? Good.

2) Mr. Whirly, our crankset. Same rule applies. No E. Not Whirley.

3) Pugsley, our snow/sand/grandpa's face frame. I can see where this might get confusing, but there are no variations of the spelling of this word that I am aware of, except perhaps for misspellings. Frankly, how people arrive at 'Surley Pugsly' is beyond me. Oddly, I have never noticed a single misspelling of Big Dummy. Ironic, isn't it?

Learn it. Know it. Live it.

***************************************************************************

This may be more of a command than a warning.

It's humpday. As Wednesdays are neither here nor there anyhow, and since my brain is flummoxed by a lingering cold simultaneous to an impending visit from a local media luminary, which I hope will result in a 'marketunity', I offer up the following with no particular purpose in mind.

Yup. And here's one more from offcenter. I have no explanation exactly, but again: it's Wednesday. I just think they all go really well together. Have a real good day now.

"You know, a long time ago being crazy meant something. Nowadays everybody's crazy."
-Charles Manson

"I don't like food that's too carefully arranged; it makes me think that the chef is spending too much time arranging and not enough time cooking. If I wanted a picture I'd buy a painting."
-Andy Rooney

“I had a horse in Mexico one time that I rode. He was just bones when I got him. I started feeding him bread and everything else. I called him Bimbo after the bread down there. "Here Bimbo," and he'd come running. He knew me, God bless him. I often wondered what happened to him."
-Ernest Borgnine

2009-03-20T12:38:00.000-07:00

Don't pick fights, but stand up for your rights.