Diet continued
I neglected to mention that we might as well have been sponsored by Gummi bear gummis (Das Original!) since we have each eaten our own body weight in gummis. We have also eaten more than our share of chocolat and marmalada croissants in the mornings along with manus tiny coffees.
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Saturday, May 26, 2012
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
Much rain and the Giro was better than expected.
Much rain and the Giro was better than expected.
Plus, apparently there was an earthquake that could have affected us. We're totally and entirely fine except for Shannon's bike which is once again failing. Can there be two hail Mary passes in one game? We are trying for a our second one tomorrow. If it fails we will be home much sooner than expected. More soon.
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Plus, apparently there was an earthquake that could have affected us. We're totally and entirely fine except for Shannon's bike which is once again failing. Can there be two hail Mary passes in one game? We are trying for a our second one tomorrow. If it fails we will be home much sooner than expected. More soon.
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Saturday, May 19, 2012
Friday, May 18, 2012
Diet
Diet
A note on our diet throughout this entire trip. Except for occasional forays in to local cuisines and restaurant eating, sometimes with dire and regrettable outcomes, we have kept to a very simple and possibly insane diet for the length and breadth of our trip, of bread, cheese and salami. We fortify our simple strikeforceawesome power-diet with snacks. M&M's and other chocolate delicacies. M&M's are great because they do not melt in intense sun and heat. Despite this obviously amazing culinary fare we are both losing some weight and Shannon, the suspected cyborg, has taken to calling me the Stick.
Sent from my iPad
A note on our diet throughout this entire trip. Except for occasional forays in to local cuisines and restaurant eating, sometimes with dire and regrettable outcomes, we have kept to a very simple and possibly insane diet for the length and breadth of our trip, of bread, cheese and salami. We fortify our simple strikeforceawesome power-diet with snacks. M&M's and other chocolate delicacies. M&M's are great because they do not melt in intense sun and heat. Despite this obviously amazing culinary fare we are both losing some weight and Shannon, the suspected cyborg, has taken to calling me the Stick.
Sent from my iPad
Chapter Too
Chapter Too
It was after the horrorshow day of blood loss and heat wave, right when, once again, I was certain that I couldn't take it anymore, we hit some beautiful riding on wide scenic roads with only intermittent traffic that was rarely scary. We also hit hills, but it all balanced out to a level of reason that we could take. We rode another longer day, all part of the quest to reach the Giro stage in time, and hit our longest day of the trip of 78 miles. We tended to reach the camps each night right around time to eat a quick dinner before it got dark and it was time to sleep. (A cautionary note. I would not care to hear from any other much more iron-thighed cycle friends who eat 78 mile riding days for breakfast. I don't need to be illuminated as to how not hardcore I am. Telling me so would be useless and redundant since I already am well aware of this fact. Let me just say that I am very happy for you that you can ride circles around me while I huff puff and sweat, but also that I will definitively never ever go on a long distance cycle tour with you.) When we reached the camp one of the campeteers asked us when we intended to leave in the morning. I didn't know how to take that question but it turned out he was asking because there was going to be a party down the way and it was going to be loud. Ah Europe. We told him that it would likely not be a problem because of our general exhaustion and it turned out that it wasn't. The party was loud, we slept like exhausted babies.
Shannon's bicycle is still in an unwell state. We stop occasionally so that I can tweak it and keep it shifting, but it is at best a nuisance, and more than unexceptional. Despite that she has peddled along like a super human strikeforce champion and I have become suspicious that she is actually a very human passable cyborg gladiator hybrid. For this I am thankful. Though on the mountain stage on the way up to our present camp I did believe on several occasions that she intended to snap me like a brittle twig and toss me in to the scenic brush along the road for making her undertake this entirely selfish segment of the journey. She may still. I am presently trying to be nice, which we all know does not come naturally to me. As it is now the weather here went from sunny and warm to a sprinkle of snow on our tent last night to rain this morning to cold all day. The forecast is not improving for the stage tomorrow which is even more unfortunate for the racing cyclists than it is for us. Unless of course we get stuck here because of snow tomorrow and for the foreseeable future.
I believe that is mostly all I meant to ramble at this point. There will certainly be more to come as we retrace our steps back down the mountain on the 20th and then start on our way towards and over the Alps in to France and on to Spain. The point is that we made it, the epic Cannonball Run to watch the Giro and tomorrow we will do just that. I expect it will be entirely worth it.
Photos to follow of the Giro and other events. Unless they are canceled due to weather.
Sent from my iPad
It was after the horrorshow day of blood loss and heat wave, right when, once again, I was certain that I couldn't take it anymore, we hit some beautiful riding on wide scenic roads with only intermittent traffic that was rarely scary. We also hit hills, but it all balanced out to a level of reason that we could take. We rode another longer day, all part of the quest to reach the Giro stage in time, and hit our longest day of the trip of 78 miles. We tended to reach the camps each night right around time to eat a quick dinner before it got dark and it was time to sleep. (A cautionary note. I would not care to hear from any other much more iron-thighed cycle friends who eat 78 mile riding days for breakfast. I don't need to be illuminated as to how not hardcore I am. Telling me so would be useless and redundant since I already am well aware of this fact. Let me just say that I am very happy for you that you can ride circles around me while I huff puff and sweat, but also that I will definitively never ever go on a long distance cycle tour with you.) When we reached the camp one of the campeteers asked us when we intended to leave in the morning. I didn't know how to take that question but it turned out he was asking because there was going to be a party down the way and it was going to be loud. Ah Europe. We told him that it would likely not be a problem because of our general exhaustion and it turned out that it wasn't. The party was loud, we slept like exhausted babies.
Shannon's bicycle is still in an unwell state. We stop occasionally so that I can tweak it and keep it shifting, but it is at best a nuisance, and more than unexceptional. Despite that she has peddled along like a super human strikeforce champion and I have become suspicious that she is actually a very human passable cyborg gladiator hybrid. For this I am thankful. Though on the mountain stage on the way up to our present camp I did believe on several occasions that she intended to snap me like a brittle twig and toss me in to the scenic brush along the road for making her undertake this entirely selfish segment of the journey. She may still. I am presently trying to be nice, which we all know does not come naturally to me. As it is now the weather here went from sunny and warm to a sprinkle of snow on our tent last night to rain this morning to cold all day. The forecast is not improving for the stage tomorrow which is even more unfortunate for the racing cyclists than it is for us. Unless of course we get stuck here because of snow tomorrow and for the foreseeable future.
I believe that is mostly all I meant to ramble at this point. There will certainly be more to come as we retrace our steps back down the mountain on the 20th and then start on our way towards and over the Alps in to France and on to Spain. The point is that we made it, the epic Cannonball Run to watch the Giro and tomorrow we will do just that. I expect it will be entirely worth it.
Photos to follow of the Giro and other events. Unless they are canceled due to weather.
Sent from my iPad
Temper tantrums, cannonball run Italia and dubious travel decisions
Temper tantrums, cannonball run Italia and dubious travel decisions
Sometimes decisions are based upon other decisions and hopes on hopes. We based our crossing of Italy on the infamous Burt Reynolds movie of the 70's or early 80's, The Cannonball Run. I am just assuming Burt Reynolds was in that movie because of its total and entire awesomeness. We also based our crossing of Italy not so much on enjoyment as on the quest to view a single stage of the Giro d'Italia bicycle race. It just happened that the mountain stage that would be unquestionably perfect to view was on the opposite side of the country from us and meant we would have to basically bury ourselves to get there, riding through some of the most unpleasant terrain of our entire trip. Not hard for it's hilly qualities, but entirely because of the lack of quality aesthetics and also constant and harrowing traffic. It also meant that, you know, we would have to ride up a mountain stage of the infamously hard Giro d'Italia, with trailers, after burying ourselves riding long miles, (to us) along terrible routes through maybe the least attractive part of all Italy. Picture a frontage road of never ending giant stores, gas stations, tire stores and oil refineries. Okay, stop picturing it because that is an awful thing to picture, also an awful thing to ride along. Especially in hot hot heat. Yes, we caught no breaks. Emm, except that it didn't rain.
The unendurably wonderful Katie Leum once asked us, at a cafe in Croatia, exactly how many times we had broken down in tears on the trip, based on another friend's trying bicycle travels. At the time we answered that no tears had been shed in sadness, though maybe a few in rage. After one exceptionally hot awful day of riding with non stop traffic through towns that looked like the worst parts of America, we found the hide and seek camping area we sought. We'd ridden 74 miles, were hot and sore, and faced a locked gate that protected the creepiest campground we'd nearly ever collectively seen. Exhausted, we cared little if our organs were harvested during the night. We just wanted to shower and get some sleep first. We eventually were allowed inside the gate, opened by a disembodied voice over an intercom. Inside the gate was more unnerving than the outside. There were abandoned looking camper vans, cars also that looked like they hadn't moved in eons, and even bicycles that looked like they had been dropped mid pedal. Possibly the cyclist was darted while riding and the bicycles were left as jaunty lawn ornaments giving the appearance of light hearted play. They didn't fulfill that hope. The road to a hoped for office was long and my shins were suddenly on fire with stinging. I killed two or three mosquitoes in a swat as we passed one religious shrine after another....
The Bob trailers can tend to have a mind of their own, especially when one is tired, exhausted, in pain, and being attacked by mosquitos in plague proportions. My trailer dropped from one side to the other as I tried to protect myself from losing too much blood. The camp owner walked up just as I was kicking things, throwing my helmet and swearing. Shannon explained to her helpfully, "long day...". The woman let us camp there regardless of my behavior which somehow didn't improve. I picked up and hurled my bicycle and trailer, right before kicking my helmet one last time for good useless measure. Then we set up the tent. Immediately following that we got into the tent which was then covered by really fast, hyper intelligent and hungry mosquitos. As I sat there looking them back in the eye through the thin mesh of the tent, pondering my fate if I ventured out, I watched as the most enormous tick I'd ever seen also crawled up the tent, also smelling my rare breed of perfectly exquisite blood. That was when I once again found humor.
Another chapter to follow. I apologize for the length of this installment.
Sent from my iPad
Sometimes decisions are based upon other decisions and hopes on hopes. We based our crossing of Italy on the infamous Burt Reynolds movie of the 70's or early 80's, The Cannonball Run. I am just assuming Burt Reynolds was in that movie because of its total and entire awesomeness. We also based our crossing of Italy not so much on enjoyment as on the quest to view a single stage of the Giro d'Italia bicycle race. It just happened that the mountain stage that would be unquestionably perfect to view was on the opposite side of the country from us and meant we would have to basically bury ourselves to get there, riding through some of the most unpleasant terrain of our entire trip. Not hard for it's hilly qualities, but entirely because of the lack of quality aesthetics and also constant and harrowing traffic. It also meant that, you know, we would have to ride up a mountain stage of the infamously hard Giro d'Italia, with trailers, after burying ourselves riding long miles, (to us) along terrible routes through maybe the least attractive part of all Italy. Picture a frontage road of never ending giant stores, gas stations, tire stores and oil refineries. Okay, stop picturing it because that is an awful thing to picture, also an awful thing to ride along. Especially in hot hot heat. Yes, we caught no breaks. Emm, except that it didn't rain.
The unendurably wonderful Katie Leum once asked us, at a cafe in Croatia, exactly how many times we had broken down in tears on the trip, based on another friend's trying bicycle travels. At the time we answered that no tears had been shed in sadness, though maybe a few in rage. After one exceptionally hot awful day of riding with non stop traffic through towns that looked like the worst parts of America, we found the hide and seek camping area we sought. We'd ridden 74 miles, were hot and sore, and faced a locked gate that protected the creepiest campground we'd nearly ever collectively seen. Exhausted, we cared little if our organs were harvested during the night. We just wanted to shower and get some sleep first. We eventually were allowed inside the gate, opened by a disembodied voice over an intercom. Inside the gate was more unnerving than the outside. There were abandoned looking camper vans, cars also that looked like they hadn't moved in eons, and even bicycles that looked like they had been dropped mid pedal. Possibly the cyclist was darted while riding and the bicycles were left as jaunty lawn ornaments giving the appearance of light hearted play. They didn't fulfill that hope. The road to a hoped for office was long and my shins were suddenly on fire with stinging. I killed two or three mosquitoes in a swat as we passed one religious shrine after another....
The Bob trailers can tend to have a mind of their own, especially when one is tired, exhausted, in pain, and being attacked by mosquitos in plague proportions. My trailer dropped from one side to the other as I tried to protect myself from losing too much blood. The camp owner walked up just as I was kicking things, throwing my helmet and swearing. Shannon explained to her helpfully, "long day...". The woman let us camp there regardless of my behavior which somehow didn't improve. I picked up and hurled my bicycle and trailer, right before kicking my helmet one last time for good useless measure. Then we set up the tent. Immediately following that we got into the tent which was then covered by really fast, hyper intelligent and hungry mosquitos. As I sat there looking them back in the eye through the thin mesh of the tent, pondering my fate if I ventured out, I watched as the most enormous tick I'd ever seen also crawled up the tent, also smelling my rare breed of perfectly exquisite blood. That was when I once again found humor.
Another chapter to follow. I apologize for the length of this installment.
Sent from my iPad
Sunday, May 13, 2012
Verona
Verona
Is amazing. If you recently heard some inexplicable explosions it was merely the sound of our minds being blown. It started raining at 3:30am last night which is unfortunate but it did quell the 105degree heat that kept us sweating in our tent til the wee hours when the lightning and thunder and wind started. Shannon's bicycle is still ailing and I am still keeping her from setting it on fire to fix it once and for all, but it is continuing to give us trouble, concern and is the impetus for us changing our plans on a moment by moment basis. If only we hadn't chosen a bicycle for her that is more rare than an honest politician. If only we'd known. Maybe, in retrospect, I will get her the lighter fluid. Maybe we will see you all sooner than later.
Verona is beautiful. No kidding.
Sent from my iPad
Is amazing. If you recently heard some inexplicable explosions it was merely the sound of our minds being blown. It started raining at 3:30am last night which is unfortunate but it did quell the 105degree heat that kept us sweating in our tent til the wee hours when the lightning and thunder and wind started. Shannon's bicycle is still ailing and I am still keeping her from setting it on fire to fix it once and for all, but it is continuing to give us trouble, concern and is the impetus for us changing our plans on a moment by moment basis. If only we hadn't chosen a bicycle for her that is more rare than an honest politician. If only we'd known. Maybe, in retrospect, I will get her the lighter fluid. Maybe we will see you all sooner than later.
Verona is beautiful. No kidding.
Sent from my iPad
Flames
Flames
I have never really crashed on a bicycle before in my life, until this trip. Now I crash so often that it is almost a lifestyle. My first crash was caused by a dog attacking me, on a steep and wet road, and while I was kicking him in the face. It all added up to crashy circumstances and made perfect sense that I would find myself skidding along the highway for an impressive distance. At that point we were riding in Albania and I decided to not ride clipped in to my pedals. I rode the whole way in my low top Vans just on my Look clip pedals. Super not ideal at all. Possibly why my left knee started to feel like it wanted to secede from my leg as a whole. Riding on the road in Albania was often more like mountain biking. Montenegro sported the craziest and least accommodating drivers and so again I chose not to clip in. It wasn't until Croatia that I felt good about being attached to my bicycle. Once I did that my crashes became sillier, but I also went down with the ship. Once in a construction zone I was looking back and so hadn't noticed Shannon stopping fully ahead of me and ran right in to her trailer wheel which sent me careening off into the ground. Yesterday I hadn't noticed a small curb-ito which just caught my tire enough to turn my wheel out from under me and send me quite heavily to the ground. The funny thing is that our trailers, once imbalanced, tend to add a lot of weight in the fall, thus body slamming the whole rig and us with it. It feels like a spiteful revenge on the trailer's part for our general rough treatment of them, but I couldn't prove it in a court of law. So yesterday, after 50 plus miles in over 100 degrees I, or my vindictive trailer, slammed to the ground and gave myself some sweet soreness of bruisy contusions. Luckily I am spry. I hope that I am spry. These crashes are adding up and are harder to shake off. Shannon's comment was, "now we're even" since at this point she has crashed three times as well. At least I can be happy for that.
Sent from my iPad
I have never really crashed on a bicycle before in my life, until this trip. Now I crash so often that it is almost a lifestyle. My first crash was caused by a dog attacking me, on a steep and wet road, and while I was kicking him in the face. It all added up to crashy circumstances and made perfect sense that I would find myself skidding along the highway for an impressive distance. At that point we were riding in Albania and I decided to not ride clipped in to my pedals. I rode the whole way in my low top Vans just on my Look clip pedals. Super not ideal at all. Possibly why my left knee started to feel like it wanted to secede from my leg as a whole. Riding on the road in Albania was often more like mountain biking. Montenegro sported the craziest and least accommodating drivers and so again I chose not to clip in. It wasn't until Croatia that I felt good about being attached to my bicycle. Once I did that my crashes became sillier, but I also went down with the ship. Once in a construction zone I was looking back and so hadn't noticed Shannon stopping fully ahead of me and ran right in to her trailer wheel which sent me careening off into the ground. Yesterday I hadn't noticed a small curb-ito which just caught my tire enough to turn my wheel out from under me and send me quite heavily to the ground. The funny thing is that our trailers, once imbalanced, tend to add a lot of weight in the fall, thus body slamming the whole rig and us with it. It feels like a spiteful revenge on the trailer's part for our general rough treatment of them, but I couldn't prove it in a court of law. So yesterday, after 50 plus miles in over 100 degrees I, or my vindictive trailer, slammed to the ground and gave myself some sweet soreness of bruisy contusions. Luckily I am spry. I hope that I am spry. These crashes are adding up and are harder to shake off. Shannon's comment was, "now we're even" since at this point she has crashed three times as well. At least I can be happy for that.
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Friday, May 11, 2012
Thursday, May 10, 2012
Weirdlets
Weirdlets
People in Greece and Albania always guessed that we were from Italy, that we were Italian. Never American. In fact so far no one has guessed that we were Americans. Usually Italian, sometimes French.
When we ask for a Coke, and this started in Athens, we have been given or offered a CoKe Zero. In fact, once when a waiter in Croatia completely misunderstood what Shannon asked for we received two Coke Zeros. First off, why Coke Zero? Is this a new craze? Do they assume that all Italians (see above) only drink Coke Zero? Do we look like we need neither caffeine nor sugar? Total mystery to me why anyone would drink a Coke Zero.
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People in Greece and Albania always guessed that we were from Italy, that we were Italian. Never American. In fact so far no one has guessed that we were Americans. Usually Italian, sometimes French.
When we ask for a Coke, and this started in Athens, we have been given or offered a CoKe Zero. In fact, once when a waiter in Croatia completely misunderstood what Shannon asked for we received two Coke Zeros. First off, why Coke Zero? Is this a new craze? Do they assume that all Italians (see above) only drink Coke Zero? Do we look like we need neither caffeine nor sugar? Total mystery to me why anyone would drink a Coke Zero.
Sent from my iPad
Wednesday, May 9, 2012
Tuesday, May 8, 2012
Oh, and a clarification
Oh, and a clarification
I said, early on, that we have been riding the EuroVelo 8 route from Athens, Greece to somewhere in Spain. That is only partly true. We have often been merely riding our very own parallel route, for good or bad, based on our own desires and criteria. This has of course been met with mixed results. We have nothing to compare it to however since we haven't done the actual EuroVelo 8 route and so don't know if it is better or worse than what we have done on our trip. We are now at the end of Croatia, just outside of Rijeka and will be entering Slovenia tomorrow, passing through and on in to Italy, somewhere near Trieste. If all goes well.
Slovenia is "shaped like a chicken" as we were informed by some Slovenian rock climbers we met in a camp at Omis, but I am not certain which part of the chicken we will be passing through tomorrow but a skinny part most certainly. The rock climbers also shared some Rajika with us which they called schnapps and kept assuring us was better than our Jack Daniels. I refrained from explaining how easy it was to be better than Jack Daniels and just happily drank their offerings.
We wish we had more time to explore Slovenia, and Croatia and will likely feel the exact same way about Italy but we just have to motor through a a bit or we will never get anywhere near our destination. As it is we won't make it quite as far as we'd hoped, but still plenty far enough to feel quite satisfied with the distance of our trip. I don't really know at this point how far we have come, but I am guessing somewhere over a thousand miles. Or near it. Or it just really feels like it. I am satisfied with any of those scenarios.
So, we continue to not quite ride the EuroVelo 8 and that is the end of this clarification.
Sent from my iPad
I said, early on, that we have been riding the EuroVelo 8 route from Athens, Greece to somewhere in Spain. That is only partly true. We have often been merely riding our very own parallel route, for good or bad, based on our own desires and criteria. This has of course been met with mixed results. We have nothing to compare it to however since we haven't done the actual EuroVelo 8 route and so don't know if it is better or worse than what we have done on our trip. We are now at the end of Croatia, just outside of Rijeka and will be entering Slovenia tomorrow, passing through and on in to Italy, somewhere near Trieste. If all goes well.
Slovenia is "shaped like a chicken" as we were informed by some Slovenian rock climbers we met in a camp at Omis, but I am not certain which part of the chicken we will be passing through tomorrow but a skinny part most certainly. The rock climbers also shared some Rajika with us which they called schnapps and kept assuring us was better than our Jack Daniels. I refrained from explaining how easy it was to be better than Jack Daniels and just happily drank their offerings.
We wish we had more time to explore Slovenia, and Croatia and will likely feel the exact same way about Italy but we just have to motor through a a bit or we will never get anywhere near our destination. As it is we won't make it quite as far as we'd hoped, but still plenty far enough to feel quite satisfied with the distance of our trip. I don't really know at this point how far we have come, but I am guessing somewhere over a thousand miles. Or near it. Or it just really feels like it. I am satisfied with any of those scenarios.
So, we continue to not quite ride the EuroVelo 8 and that is the end of this clarification.
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Weirdest list
Weirdest list
1. Weirdest thing I have seen so far? An Illinois license plate on an SUV in Bar, Montenegro at a gas station. Fibs.
2.Also weird. First seemingly rude person we came across? We picked up a couple of Cokes from a cooler outside a wee roadside market and were looking at another cooler for ice creams. A woman came screeching out at us and screeched "you have to pay for those!" like we might not know that. Does someone not know that? Like, oooh, free cold Cokes! I thought that her accent sounded odd for Croatia. Where was she from? Canada. She seemed nice after all, but also crazy.
3. Really and truly there are no bicycle shops to be found until you reach Zadar, Croatia and then there are at least four bicycle shops. All decent too. None of them had the part we needed, but they were real bicycle shops, like in America, or heaven.
4. A lot more weird, but that will suffice for now.
Sent from my iPad
1. Weirdest thing I have seen so far? An Illinois license plate on an SUV in Bar, Montenegro at a gas station. Fibs.
2.Also weird. First seemingly rude person we came across? We picked up a couple of Cokes from a cooler outside a wee roadside market and were looking at another cooler for ice creams. A woman came screeching out at us and screeched "you have to pay for those!" like we might not know that. Does someone not know that? Like, oooh, free cold Cokes! I thought that her accent sounded odd for Croatia. Where was she from? Canada. She seemed nice after all, but also crazy.
3. Really and truly there are no bicycle shops to be found until you reach Zadar, Croatia and then there are at least four bicycle shops. All decent too. None of them had the part we needed, but they were real bicycle shops, like in America, or heaven.
4. A lot more weird, but that will suffice for now.
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Bicycle damage list S and also M
Bicycle damage list S and also M
Bent dérailleur tab S (possibly in airplane shipping)
Bent rear dropout on derailleur side M (maybe in airplane shipping)
Bent derailleur M (outcome of stupid stupid dog attack)
Broken water bottle cage M (again, stupid stupid dog attack)
Shifter and handlebars deeply scratched, and trailer. M (all part of really stupid sub moronic dog attack) ( I hate that dog and wish him more ill than just the tread of my Vans skate show imprinted on his moron snout.) (yes, he hurts my feelings, but also my knee.)
Broken right side SRAM shifter S (which happened when Shannon was hit by a wall of truck breath and smashed ungently in to a wall. If you have ever felt the large amount of air displaced by a semi truck at close range you know what "truck breath" is. It can also be the opposite, as in it suddenly cuts the wind away that you were fighting and cause an almost vacuum effect which sucks you towards the semi truck. Neither is ideal. Both can cause you a broken shifter.
Broken rear dérailleur tab. S by M ( caused after we bought S new Shimano shifters and I was installing them along with the new Shimano rear dérailleur because in all honestly S and M both despise SRAM with a deep and unapologetic passion. I wanted the new shifty shifting to work like a champ and knew that it could if only that pesky dérailleur hanger was not so bent. I know and knew better but decided to give it the old pull and hope try and tink, it broke.
Is that it? Not that that isn't enough. A couple of those items were enough to end our trip, or at least delay it badly, mostly because we saw no bicycle shops for four countries. Google searches only led to dead ends. We did find one tiny bicycle shop in Bar, Montenegro but it was no bigger than an American McMansion closet and he couldn't have stocked what we needed, plus at that point we didn't need it. He did have brake pads though and we needed those with a inhuman desperation. Those Albanian mountains pretty efficiently erased our brake pads.
At this point we are back in one (two) piece but Shannon's rear dérailleur hanger is still bent, despite being welded back together. We will have to keep an eye out for a replacement part as we travel Italy, the land of the bicycles origin. At this point S is just happy to have more than two gears, especially as we hit the bigger hills.
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Bent dérailleur tab S (possibly in airplane shipping)
Bent rear dropout on derailleur side M (maybe in airplane shipping)
Bent derailleur M (outcome of stupid stupid dog attack)
Broken water bottle cage M (again, stupid stupid dog attack)
Shifter and handlebars deeply scratched, and trailer. M (all part of really stupid sub moronic dog attack) ( I hate that dog and wish him more ill than just the tread of my Vans skate show imprinted on his moron snout.) (yes, he hurts my feelings, but also my knee.)
Broken right side SRAM shifter S (which happened when Shannon was hit by a wall of truck breath and smashed ungently in to a wall. If you have ever felt the large amount of air displaced by a semi truck at close range you know what "truck breath" is. It can also be the opposite, as in it suddenly cuts the wind away that you were fighting and cause an almost vacuum effect which sucks you towards the semi truck. Neither is ideal. Both can cause you a broken shifter.
Broken rear dérailleur tab. S by M ( caused after we bought S new Shimano shifters and I was installing them along with the new Shimano rear dérailleur because in all honestly S and M both despise SRAM with a deep and unapologetic passion. I wanted the new shifty shifting to work like a champ and knew that it could if only that pesky dérailleur hanger was not so bent. I know and knew better but decided to give it the old pull and hope try and tink, it broke.
Is that it? Not that that isn't enough. A couple of those items were enough to end our trip, or at least delay it badly, mostly because we saw no bicycle shops for four countries. Google searches only led to dead ends. We did find one tiny bicycle shop in Bar, Montenegro but it was no bigger than an American McMansion closet and he couldn't have stocked what we needed, plus at that point we didn't need it. He did have brake pads though and we needed those with a inhuman desperation. Those Albanian mountains pretty efficiently erased our brake pads.
At this point we are back in one (two) piece but Shannon's rear dérailleur hanger is still bent, despite being welded back together. We will have to keep an eye out for a replacement part as we travel Italy, the land of the bicycles origin. At this point S is just happy to have more than two gears, especially as we hit the bigger hills.
Sent from my iPad
Saturday, May 5, 2012
Ultimate universal unquestionable lessons questioned and re-learned.
Ultimate universal unquestionable lessons questioned and re-learned.
1.Never, ever, ever try to re-bend an aluminum dérailleur hanger once it has been bent by an airline baggage thrower or any of other force of nature. Never. I know, you know this, everyone knows this. So why tempt fate? When on a long distance bicycle trip across many countries where no bicycle shops can be found. Especially not then. I mean, never anyway, but more never then.
2. Most welders are really sweethearts. Though this was never actually questioned.
3. You can bend a steel bicycle's derailleur hanger back in to shape without braking it. Steel is great, aluminum is questionable. At least in my gentle grasp.
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1.Never, ever, ever try to re-bend an aluminum dérailleur hanger once it has been bent by an airline baggage thrower or any of other force of nature. Never. I know, you know this, everyone knows this. So why tempt fate? When on a long distance bicycle trip across many countries where no bicycle shops can be found. Especially not then. I mean, never anyway, but more never then.
2. Most welders are really sweethearts. Though this was never actually questioned.
3. You can bend a steel bicycle's derailleur hanger back in to shape without braking it. Steel is great, aluminum is questionable. At least in my gentle grasp.
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Darth Zadar
Darth Zadar
In Croatia.
We went to the first real bicycle shop that we have seen since the United States and asked about getting a SRAM shifter to replace the broken one decorating Shannon's bike. They didn't have SRAM, didn't stock SRAM, and though the friendly but useless guy on the phone at SRAM told me to go ahead and find a local bicycle store and just ask them to special order the shifter, this guy was not willing to do so. He helpfully asked, "how much time do you have?" Not much. He suggested what I had in my heart to do anyway which was to switch Shannon's bike over to Shimano and call it a day. A much better day. So we shelled out a small truck load of Kuna and had ourselves a set of Shimano shifters and a Shimano derailleur. He was also a sweetheart, like most welders, and grumpy bicycle shop mechanics tend to be.
I installed new shifters and derailleur but could see that the derailleur hanger was still badly bent and Shannon would still be facing some bad shifting, annoying and frustrating. I decided to go against everything I knew and try to bend the hanger just a bit. It didn't take much force at all and it broke off in my hand, quite heart brakingly. I decided to just install new brake pads on her bike and then go drink a beer. Boo and hoo were all that I could think. That and about what our new plan might be now that we may need a new plan. A ferry to Italy came to mind.
We went around today to all four (miracle!) bicycle shops in town, Zadar, and each in turn told us that they did not have that part. Of course they didn't because Shannon's bicycle is not on that any of them sell and as far as I can tell is the only Bianchi cyclo-cross bicycle to ever have visited the Balkan states. One guy, a grumpy sweetheart, said that if we couldn't find the part at another shop that he knew a welder who could weld the bits back together for us. It turned out to be our only option. We took a cab to the fellow's place and he welded it back together in about twenty minutes. Sweetheart.
I put the derailleur hanger back on the bike, then the derailleur and it was of course at least as bent as it had been before. Part of me was tempted to try to bend the hanger, again, but I fought that insane urge and just got the shifting going as well as I could. I then spent time working on both of the bicycles and some on the trailers in hopes that we can avoid any more disasters for a few days.
We are leaving here tomorrow sporting almost all of our gears, on toward Italy, hopefully in a few days, and on to track down the Giro d'Italia.
Sent from my iPad
In Croatia.
We went to the first real bicycle shop that we have seen since the United States and asked about getting a SRAM shifter to replace the broken one decorating Shannon's bike. They didn't have SRAM, didn't stock SRAM, and though the friendly but useless guy on the phone at SRAM told me to go ahead and find a local bicycle store and just ask them to special order the shifter, this guy was not willing to do so. He helpfully asked, "how much time do you have?" Not much. He suggested what I had in my heart to do anyway which was to switch Shannon's bike over to Shimano and call it a day. A much better day. So we shelled out a small truck load of Kuna and had ourselves a set of Shimano shifters and a Shimano derailleur. He was also a sweetheart, like most welders, and grumpy bicycle shop mechanics tend to be.
I installed new shifters and derailleur but could see that the derailleur hanger was still badly bent and Shannon would still be facing some bad shifting, annoying and frustrating. I decided to go against everything I knew and try to bend the hanger just a bit. It didn't take much force at all and it broke off in my hand, quite heart brakingly. I decided to just install new brake pads on her bike and then go drink a beer. Boo and hoo were all that I could think. That and about what our new plan might be now that we may need a new plan. A ferry to Italy came to mind.
We went around today to all four (miracle!) bicycle shops in town, Zadar, and each in turn told us that they did not have that part. Of course they didn't because Shannon's bicycle is not on that any of them sell and as far as I can tell is the only Bianchi cyclo-cross bicycle to ever have visited the Balkan states. One guy, a grumpy sweetheart, said that if we couldn't find the part at another shop that he knew a welder who could weld the bits back together for us. It turned out to be our only option. We took a cab to the fellow's place and he welded it back together in about twenty minutes. Sweetheart.
I put the derailleur hanger back on the bike, then the derailleur and it was of course at least as bent as it had been before. Part of me was tempted to try to bend the hanger, again, but I fought that insane urge and just got the shifting going as well as I could. I then spent time working on both of the bicycles and some on the trailers in hopes that we can avoid any more disasters for a few days.
We are leaving here tomorrow sporting almost all of our gears, on toward Italy, hopefully in a few days, and on to track down the Giro d'Italia.
Sent from my iPad
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