Twin Peaks Tree

A very old tree stands "next to" the Twin Peaks in Tahoe.

The Search for Hawksbill Church

Monday afternoon (November 2nd) found me back in Shenandoah County, Virginia - specifically Strasburg, Edinburg, and Luray - in search of that elusive church mentioned in my previous post!

On Wednesday (October 25th) I had made a detour from Shenandoah National Park to Luray, known for its caverns. But that isn't why I went there. I stopped at the library and got some assistance from one of the librarians. I was looking for the location of what in the 1700s and early 1800s was known as the Hoxbiel or Hawksbiel or Hawksbill Church. By 1848, when a new brick building was constructed, it was known as Mount Calvary Lutheran Church. The librarian provided a copy of transcriptions of the church register of baptisms and marriages but it was for a much later time period. But in the preface I learned that even though the congregation disbanded in 1959, the church building still existed and that it was located three miles south of Luray. However, none of the library staff knew where it was located.

The first two pastors that served the Hawksbill congregation were J. C. Stoever (Sr) from 1733-34 and J. C. Stoever (Jr) from 1734-42. They were Johann Caspar Stoever and were my 6th and 5th great-grandfathers, respectively. As stated in the previous post mentioned above, the elder man died at sea in 1739 while returning from a fund raising trip to Europe. The younger Stoever was a traveling pastor visiting and serving several congregations, often at the same time, in Pennsylvania (primarily in what was then Lancaster County, which encompassed a great deal more territory than it does today) and northern Virginia. Much has been written of his exploits and troubles regarding his pastorate and conflicts with his fellow clergymen. There is no way that I can possibly condense it all down so it would make sense in a brief blog post. A fairly complete accounting of his life can be found on pages 51-101 in "Stover-Stoever-Staver- Stiver, An Account of The Ancestry and Descendants of Johann Caspar Stoever of Pennsylvania" by Vernon Stiver & Patricia R. Donaldson, Saline, Michigan, 1992.

The fact that the two Stoevers were both pastor of this church was interesting but not too surprising given the fact that it wasn't all that far from Madison and the Hebron Lutheran Church, albeit on the other side of a mountain range! But what intrigued me more was the fact that another ancestor, 5th great-grandfather, Wilhelm Georg Forster aka William Foster, served as the eighth pastor of the Hawksbill Church from 1798-1806. The Stoevers are ancestors on my Dad's side of the family and William Foster is on my Mother's side.

I took the main road south from Luray (Business Route U.S. 340) thinking there might be a sign pointing the way. I got excited when I saw a sign for Hawksbill Primitive Baptist Church, until it sank in that it was a Baptist Church! I did stop at a gas station along the way, but no one there knew anything about Mount Calvary Lutheran Church, which wasn't surprising since it had closed in 1959. For another hour, I aimlessly drove along the back roads of the valley, hoping for some good luck but finding none, and not finding the church.

While staying with my aunt that weekend I spent some time at Panera Bread using their free WiFi (thank you very much – my aunt has dial-up access, sloooow) and found a pdf file which is an application for the National Register of Historic Places and which provided an exact location for Mount Calvary Church. I really wasn't concerned with finding the actual church so much as just wanting to see where it was located. The building itself held no meaning for me since it was built long after the Stoevers and Fosters were there.

To make a long story short, I returned to Luray after I left my aunt's place and found the church, sort of. I briefly saw the building through the trees high on a hill at the base of a mountain on a narrow, winding dirt road where there was no place to stop without blocking the road completely. I did see a dirt road (more like a trail) that led up the hill, but it was deeply rutted and overgrown and there was no way I was going to attempt to drive my van on it. I also chose not to walk up the trail since it was rather remote and rugged terrain. And I didn't get any pictures either. But I did satisfy my curiosity. It was really out in the middle of nowhere. Now and even moreso back then.

While pastor of Hawksbill, Wilhelm Foster also served as pastor of the Hebron Lutheran Church in Hampshire County, Virginia (now part of West Virginia) from 1797-1803. It is located on West Virginia route 259 between Capon Lake and Intermont (Photograph on wikipedia). And yes, I did make the drive and went to see where this church was located.

In 1796, Wilhelm Forster had purchased 289 ½ acres of land located on the "drains of Bauman Mill Run" outside of Strasburg, Virginia. It was from this central location that he served these two congregations. Strasburg is located midway between the Shenandoah and Blue Ridge Mountains, just below the northern end of Massanutten Mountain, which divides the Shenandoah Valley.

To get to Hawksbill he had to go over a portion of Massanutten. To get to the Hebron Church in Hampshire County, he had to cross over the Shenandoah Mountains. Both churches are about a distance of 25-30 miles from Strasburg. Over the mountains, through the rivers and forests. A distance that took me far less than an hour to travel probably took him several days. By spending the time to drive through the valley and over the mountains to locate the churches, I gained a greater appreciation for these pioneer ancestors.

Oh, and I also obtained the signature of Wilhelm Georg Forster. It was on the land record where he and his wife Magdalene were selling the land they had purchased in 1796. (Shenandoah County Deed Book Q page 43) They sold the land on July 4, 1807 prior to their move to Fairfield (now Perry) County, Ohio. In 1805 Wilhelm had been appointed as a traveling preacher in the Ohio district known as "New Pennsylvania" which included Fairfield (Perry), Muskingum, Pickaway and Ross counties.

Hay Dogs

Rainbow Springs State Park

Today we finally got out for a day trip. Once you are in The Villages, it is easy to forget there is a whole other world out there because you have everything you need right here. There is so much in this area that is unique and beautiful so I'm glad we remembered it for today at least. Rich and Donna graciously babysat Ava, so after dropping her off we headed to Dunnellon to visit Rainbow Springs State Park.



The first thing we noticed was the fact that the place was packed. The second was the reality that almost every person except us was wearing a swimming suit, which meant the springs were a great place to swim. Neither of those things especially surprised us. What did surprise us was how gorgeous the place was. We love most Florida parks, but this one was especially pretty in terms of the water. The water was crystal clear and fairly warm temperature wise. And it was breathtakingly beautiful.



Rainbow Springs is the fourth largest spring in Florida. The springs and park used to be a privately owned attraction. Based on how popular it seemed to be today, I am guessing it did well for many years. Before the magical mouse took up residence in Florida, I am guessing places like this did very well. It was nice to see families enjoying it and soaking up the fun still today. I am happy to say, we did not see one child using an electronic device the entire time we were here which says a lot for the place!



Since we did not bring our swimsuits, we headed off to see what the nature trails were like. We were very pleased with what we found there also.



Even with it being very hot and humid, we really enjoyed our nature walk. It was very relaxing and peaceful. There used to be a little zoo here but that is no longer in operation. There was a nice butterfly garden that was full of beautiful butterflies. We watched two that seemed to be doing synchronized flying together. And beyond a group of kids throwing rocks down at the waterfall we were looking at and almost hitting us, the crowds were not overwhelming in the least. We gave this place two thumbs up for sure.



So glad we did venture out today and see one of Florida's natural gifts. Living the life in HOT and HUMID Florida!

Angie, Angela

The beach closest to the house is a small and rocky one that
all but disappears at high tide. But I know a spot - behind all the rocks,
in a little hollowed out nook in the side of the cliff - where I can sit on the
wet dark sand, hidden, reading. Well I
call it reading. Only half the time I am lying face down, my cheek pressed into
the open pages of the book.




Once in a while a noise prompts me to look up. Few people come here, most preferring the main beach down the road. But
now I hear the unmistakable sounds of flip-flops.




There are three of them, making their way along rocks
half-submerged in water. The man is athletic and agile, with a deep tan and
spiky brown hair. Close behind is an equally lean and tanned woman, blond ponytail
swinging as she hops from rock to rock. The couple moves with the lightness of teenagers, and only when I catch a glimpse of their faces do
I see they must be in their early 50s. They could be professional athletes. Runners
maybe.




As I contemplate this, they pause, waiting for the person some
distance behind to catch up. It is an elderly female form: soft, hunched-over
body, sagging chest, thinning hair, unsteady mincing gait. The mother or aunt of one of
them, I decide, and go back to my book.




Then I hear the blond woman’s voice and look up again. “Come
on honey,” she says - in the sort of firm but gentle tone used to encourage children. “Come on honey, give mommy your hand.”




I see now that she is a girl of around 14, though it is difficult to tell for sure. She stands awkwardly on the uneven rock, her shoulders hunched forward stiffly, hands at her sides, fingers fanned out, slack mouth
emitting a low pitched moan.




I feel a jolt to my system that I am instantly ashamed of. But it is the unexpectedness, the contrast of it. The couple'seffortless movements and theirbeautiful, youthful bodies, each stretching out a perfectly formed hand toward their child.






“Angie! Angela” says the man now, trying to get her to
look at him rather than down at the water. There is a big gap between the rock
she stands on and the next one, and she is terrified to cross. Her moans grow louder. “Angie! Angela.” The man’s tone is even, patient but not
exaggeratedly so, almost matter of fact.




When she still does not respond, both the man and woman step down into
the water and, in what has the look of a practiced maneuver, pick her up by the upper arms and swiftly move her to the next rock. She is large, and at once so limp and so stiff, it is as if they move a life-sized ragdoll. And then they go on with their trek.




Soon they are gone from my field of vision, but I continue
to think of them. Their light, graceful limbs and her heavy, awkward ones, the sun lighting up her sparse wisps of hair.




In my younger years, I could dwell on such a scene indefinitely,
crying over it without really knowing
why. But now I am better at willing myself to forget, at
removing thoughts and images from my mind, almost surgically. Eventually I go back to my book - reading it, then lying face down on it again.




It is not until three days later that I see her. A girl in
a halter dress, riding her bike along the tiny main street.Her left foot is missing a sandal.And she is coasting, round shoulders relaxed, head tilted back, short sandy hair ruffled by the breeze. She is squinting into the sun and
smiling so broadly, I cannot help but grin back reflexively.



In that moment I
recognise her. I look around for the tanned athletic couple, half
expecting them to be following on bikes or watching from the sidewalk. I don't see them. But the girl is unmistakably her. The face, the body, the hair, the
way her clothing does not sit quite right.It is all there and it is all
perfect, in the utter abandon of her posture and smile.

Winter 4.0

In the final weeks of my thoughts were full of everything that's happened over the past year and my dominant emotion was depletion. Two days ago I finally finished making a bicycle frame, and the experience took its toll: Getting so completely absorbed in something at which I am so completely mediocre led me to question my sanity. This train of thought then spread from framebuilding to cycling itself. My progress on the bike has not been impressive by any standard, making it both funny and ridiculous that I am so utterly into it. I also could not help but question what would happen if and when I finally move beyond the constant struggle to both understand the bicycle and master riding it. Will it no longer be absorbing? Will the excitement and wonder eventually fade?




In the midst of all this brooding, it began to snow. It snowed and snowed all through the night, and the next morning I ventured outside. On a Sunday the plowing had been minimal. Side streets crunched with hard-packed snow. Grassy lots offered vast, undisturbed snowscapes. Modest city parks turned into enchanted forests. I wandered around by bike through the preternaturally white landscape. As my face began to tingle from the frost, my head cleared. Slip-sliding my way through the at once familiar and unfamiliar streets, everything began to make sense. I abandoned my attempts to take stock and draw conclusions. I stopped thinking about the past year and started looking forward to the year ahead. This is my fourth winter cycling, and yet everything feels utterly new, utterly exciting.




Happy New Year, everyone. Thank you, as always, for reading.




---

In keeping with the New Year's Eve cocktail tradition, I offer you:




The First Snow Ride

Ethereal gin

St Germain liqueur

Lindt white chocolate

eggwhite

ice




In a cocktail shaker, mix 2 parts gin and 1 part St. Germaine over ice. Pour (hold the ice) into a cold cocktail glass. Whip 1 eggwhite until super-frothy. Finely shred white chocolate and sprinkle the flakes into the froth. Add mixture to the drink's surface. Serve and enjoy the ride!

Nick Sutter

So I'm reading the "Find other climbers" forum on http://www.qurank.com/

And here's this casual sort of, "anyone keen to climb at Coolum on Friday, contact Nick 555 *****" type of thing.

Nick? Nick who? Nah.

The equivalent of reading on a muso's forum "anyone keen for a jam on the weekend, Keith"





































SoI get there on Saturday to hear Nick Sutter was here yesterday. W H A T !!!???

New rule: When someone gives their first name on qurank - ask their second.























Don't panic readers, he turns up again on Saturday and jjobrienclimbing is there to get some shots.

Nick sent the Matt Eaton (co-Kiwi) cave problem "4 Metres of Madness" 8a

Thing is, his knees never touched the rock. I don't think the locals knew what they were seeing.



He made some kind of remark about the first bolt being in a weird position. Nick, mate, no one has ever climbed to the first bolt without stick clipping.





Have you ever had that dream? All climbers have had it. The one where you are almost weightless, just pulling effortlessly across a roof. It was like watching that. I love that dream.





















Then it's everyone back to doing what they were doing.

Coral Colored Thingys

Updated June 14th at 7:30 pm: My readers have informed me that these are Poppies! Thank you all.









Temple Square Gardens – Tuesday, June 7th

From the Windows

These photos were taken from inside the Nature Center through the big windows. In some photos are dirt smudges that were on the outside of the windows.

My Fortune

Aric and I grabbed some Chinese food for lunch a few weeks ago, and this was in my fortune cookie.

On Passive Transportation

Sometimes I think about the phrase "Active Transportation," as used by cycling and walking advocates. I think about it especially when I find myself on a long distance bus, train or airplane trip, or as a passenger in a car: sitting still, sometimes for hours, as I am propelled through space with no input from my own body or mind. It is at times like these that the notion of active transportation is at its most appealing, because I am experiencing its opposite so keenly. This unnatural stillness as trees and houses flicker in the corner of my eye, this uncomfortable awareness of being carted, transported, delivered is what Passive Transportation feels like to me.



There is a great deal of focus today on encouraging physical activity. Walk more, be more physically active, be healthier. Getting around on foot and by bike are seen as crucial to a more physically active lifestyle. And public transit is included in what active transportation encompasses, because it is typically used in conjunction with walking or cycling. Walk a few blocks to catch the bus or subway, then walk some more to the office. And because there's no car parked at work, walk to and from lunch as well. An increase in physical activity, however small, is the goal.



Comparatively under-addressedare the psychological aspects of active and passive transportation. And here things get a little tricky, because in a lot of people's minds the car wins. When drivers explain why they want to drive and why they enjoy driving, much of it has to do with feelings of independence and control. The association starts early, as suburban American teenagers see their driver's license and their first car as tickets to freedom. The connection only strengthens in adulthood. Driving allows us to actively control our routes, our destinations, our schedule, our speed. Psychologically, this is active transportation.



Except for those instances when it's not - instances that in some parts of the world are becoming ever more frequent, possibly even the norm, and starting to redefine the driving experience. Those who find driving appealing tend to picture the ideal: driving a car along efficient highways or through scenic country roads, arriving at their destination to park directly in front of the entrance. But as many of us know, and quality of life studies are starting to note, this is far from reality today. Traffic controls car travel. In areas where it is heavy, it can slow cars to a crawl, overriding the driver's control over their speed, route selection, and schedule. The difficulties of finding parking, and obligations having to do with city ordinances, create additional restrictions. In an idealised version of the driving experience the driver may be an active agent, but in the real world they are increasingly not only passive but trapped.



Freedom of mobility is important to human beings. There is dignity in being independent, in being in control of one's movements and one's time. We place value in this, and with dignity and independence comes prestige. Modes of transportation perceived as more dignified will carry more prestige than modes that are not, and how the concept of active transportation is framed will play a role in this. Passive transportation users will be receptive to alternatives seen to offer more freedom and control, not just more physical activity.

Captain Caveman M7 gets climbed

Joel Toretti made the trip into town and we spent a short day at Meadow Run. We hopped right on Captain Caveman. Joel tried first since he hadn't had a chance yet... He fell a few times, but got up through it. I got on to give it a try. I wasn't feeling too positive due to the fact that I felt pumped from my previous day attempt. Surprisingly I sent Captain Caveman first try. Joel tied back in and promptly sent in fine style. Next Joel wanted to try Anger management M6+. He tied in started up. For mental pro he got a stubbie to go in about 5 rotations till it hit rock then tied it off. Upward Joel went passing the first bolt and into the overhangs. Quickly learning that the 2nd bolt was way out of reach (now that the rodi stummp is gone), he backed off and down climbed to the ground. Having longer reach, I opted to go up and climb the route and installing a longer runner on the 2nd bolt so that Joel could make the clip. I went up to Joel's highpoint and worked into the clipping hook... What a looooong reach that clip is. Any shorter arms and I don't think I would've got it. I fired up into the ice finish, installing a near worthless screw at the lip, clipping it and gunning for the top. Seemed much harder than I remembered... Joel tied in and gave it a second go. He smoothed up through the route eventually pumping out at the lip. He hung body weight from the screw I placed and installed a 2nd (good) screw. He finished it without issue. He wanted to try again, but I had obligations and needed to leave. So we decided to leave fixed gear on the bolts for Joel when he comes back.

Emotional Landscapes

Two days after struggling through a hill training ride last week, I found myself on the bike again - doing what ended up being a 52 mile ride counting my trip there and back. 50 miles seems to be the magic number at the moment: shorter than that and I am left feeling regretful; longer than that and I become more aware of the difference between myself and the stronger riders I am with. Interestingly, I have not gone on a proper ride on my own for over a month: I've met so many cyclists to ride with lately, that I am always with someone. Among the benefits of this is discovering local roads that I've never ridden before - and noticing what an enormous role landscape plays in how subjectively easy or difficult a ride feels.

Riding with theRide Studio Cafewomen last week, we did a loop that on the map appeared near-identical to a route I usually do alone, only along the back roads. The landscape, bathed in the ethereal late-December light, was so stunning that I did not notice the miles or the hills. Where were we? These hardly looked like the tired suburbs I had become so familiar with. Here moss-covered trees grew out of green bogs under cerulean skies. Sleepy farms peaked out coyly from the mist. The remains of frost on dried grass turned meadows into expanses of delicate lace. The sun shone through black, leafless branches, casting high-contrast shadows upon the road. We rode under canopies of fragrant pine trees, which then opened up to reveal enchanted vistas. Climbing one particular hill, I felt such a surge of emotion from the surrounding beauty, that I could not help but go faster. The desire to reach the top and see what more awaited there, made the bike feel weightless.

Roadcycling for me is not about suffering. It is about this emotional connection. Somehow the feel of being on the bike, the sensation of speed, and even the pain in my legs become associated with the reward of seeing an affecting landscape. Once it forms, the association is difficult to break, and it makes cycling addictive - apparently not just for me. Some of my riding partners are experienced racers and randonneurs, and when I listen to them describe rides I notice that they rarely speak of difficulty or pain. Words such as "epic" and "sufferfest" are simply not in their vocabulary. It's not because they don't feel pain and exhaustion, but because they do not consider these sensations to be the point. It's about fulfillment through a visceral connection with one's surroundings. The rest is not important.

Arm Coolers for Summer Cycling: A Look at Rapha and DeFeet

It is probably safe to say that most cyclists are not strangers to arm warmers. But what of their hot-weather cousins, the arm coolers? Those are a rarer beast. Worn with short sleeve jerseys, arm coolers are lightweight sleeves designed to protect from heat and sun. In intensely hot weather, wearing them is supposed to keep you cooler than cycling with bare arms or in a long sleeve jersey. So, do arm coolers work? Having tried the versions from DeFeet and Rapha, I believe they do. Here is more about them.










DeFeet ArmSkins ICE

Sun Protection: SPF 50

Fabric: olefin/nylon/spandex blend

Country of Manufacture: USA

Price: $45




The DeFeet ArmSkins Ice are designed for both sun protection and abrasion protection. They are made of a rather thick, densely woven fabric that evokes medical compression wear. The texture has a striking silky sheen to it when new, though it subdues after some use.






The ArmSkins Ice come in two sizes: S/M and L/XL. I fit the former. Pulling these on for the first time, the fabric is so dense it feels almost reluctant to stretch. But once in place, having these on is comfortable and non-constricting. For me the length is sufficient to overlap with cycling gloves.




The ArmSkins are constructed as seamless tubes. To stay up, they use a roll-top design instead of elastic or silicone grippers. The roll tops work fairly well to keep the sleeves in place, though on long rides I do adjust them occasionally. Personally I like the roll-top: Unlike silicone grippers - it does not pinch, squeeze or chafe the skin on my upper arms, especially on long rides in hot weather.






Developed for temperatures over 80F and well into the 100s, the fabric of the ArmSkins Ice is described as being activated by air-flow, the "densely packed fiber molecules" causing "rapid heat exchange. If I understand correctly, the claim is that the material does not just protect the skin from outside heat, but actually sucks and expels heat from the body. According to DeFeet, the dense weave also offers abrasion protection in case of a fall or scrape - more so than a leather jacket. A technical discussion in this review describes how all of this works in greater detail.




In use, the ArmSkins Ice feel cool to the touch, even in intense heat and sunshine. But moreover, once in a while I get the sensation of cold flashes along my arms. This happens in the absence of any breeze, but it does happen more when I ride fast, which probably means it is caused by increased air flow. To feel a chill on my arms in 90F heat and direct sun is quite something. I cannot comment on the abrasion protection, but the cooling properties of this garment are impressive. Wearing the DeFeet ArmSkins Ice feels like having an air conditioning system wrapped around my arms.






Rapha Arm Screens

Sun Protection: SPF 50

Fabric: polyester/elastane blend

Country of Manufacture: Turkey

Price: $45




The Rapha Arm Screens are made of a stocking-thin fabric. They weigh next to nothing and, crumpled-up, will easily fit into the meagerest of jersey pockets. Pulling them on, the material hardly registers between the fingertips.






The Arm Screens are shaped, with bonded seams running along the inside of the arm and articulated elbows. Reflective logos sit just above the wrists.




The sizing (XS-L) is similar to Rapha's arm warmers - which is to say, they run small. However, they are also very stretchy, so there is some leeway. I am a US woman's size 4 with arms of average thickness and below-average muscle tone. I can fit into the Small, but the Medium feels more comfortable - with no sausaging effects and with length to spare. For those unsure about their size, I would suggest erring on the larger side: The longer length will ensure there is no gap between the Screens and your cycling gloves.






The Screens stay up with the help of elasticised bands, which are as thin as the rest of the fabric. There is no silicone gripper and, compared to other designs, the hold is gentle - not pinching or squeezing the skin at the top. But the bands have worked well for me so far. For example, they kept the Arm Screens in place for over 15 hours straight on a recent long ride. The fabric feels delicate, though after some weeks of rough handling I have not snagged it yet.




The "proprietary stretch Swiss fabric" used to make these is a polyester/elastane blend with "coldblack technology to keep the fabric cool against the skin." It has also been subjected to "anti-microbial/anti-bacterial treatment." Beyond this, Rapha does not elaborate. But whatever the technology is, it works. Wearing the Arm Screens pretty much feels like not wearing anything at all. I do not notice them on, other than that my arms feel cooler. Compared to riding bare-armed, I do not feel the heat or the burn of the sun's rays against my skin. Perspiration does not gather on any parts of my arms and removing these after a long ride, they are dry. The Rapha Arm Screens protect from sun and heat, while feeling weightless and comfortable on all-day rides.






Identical in price point and SPF rating, the arm coolers from DeFeet and Rapha offer different technologies to deal with intense summer weather. A benefit specific to the DeFeet ArmSkins ICE is their added abrasion protection. A benefit specific to the Rapha Arm Screens is their weightlessness. Perhaps an obvious caveat - but both tend to get dirty in use, so do not expect them to remain bright-white for long.




Similar products worth checking out includeVoler Sol Skins,Pearl Izumi Sun Sleeves, Novara Sun Sleeves,Sugoi Arm Coolers, Craft ProCool Compression Coolers and DeSoto Arm Coolers- though I have not tried any of these myself.

Happy Birthday Daryl

Today was Daryl's birthday. I think he must be around 20 or so years old now. Last night we had a party for both he and Nathan, whose birthday is this weekend.







I hope they had a great party. They are some great guys, so they deserve it!

15 Years Under the Chaincase

With a blizzard raging outside, what better way to spend an evening than working on bikes? The Co-Habitant agreed to help with my Gazelle (and by "help" I mean "do most of the work"),in exchange for which I prepared lavish portions of a dish that is sort of a cross between French Toast and a Croque Monsieur - only larger, fluffier, more generous on the cheese, and with some secret herbs that make it special. He likes my cooking, I like his mechanics: win-win!

Though I bought new tires for my Gazelle months ago, we had been procrastinating with their installation, as it required dealing with the formidable chaincase. Removing it seemed complicated. And who knew what was under there after all these years?



TheGazelle'schaincase is a vinyl casing that is stretched over a metal support structure.It is clipped and fastened at several attachment points - including an amazing system of clasps along the bottom, the likes of which we have never seen before. I am not certain how closely the current-production Gazelle chaincase resembles the one on my 15-year-old A-Touren model, but mine was not exactly easy to remove and install - not a project for beginners at least.



Once removed, this is what was inside. It's entirely possible that the drivetrain has not been worked on since the bicycle was first purchased by the original owner. The metal structure supporting the vinyl casing was covered in surface rust, as were parts of the chain itself. But otherwise, there were no apparent problems. These bicycles were built to be used and abused for years without any need for maintenance.

We were disappointed to see that the chainring did not have little gazelles carved into it like the older ones did. But I suppose that would be too much to expect from a '90s model. The metal chaincase support structure disassembles into several parts - allowing the rear portion to be removed without taking the whole thing apart.

The main chaincase attachment bolt is on the chainstay - a more secure method than attaching chaincases or chainguards to the bottom bracket. Another point of attachment rests on the rear axle. While more difficult to tinker with, the benefit of the vinyl chaincase design, is that it is less likely to rub or knock against the chain. It also weighs less than plastic or metal chaincases - though somehow I doubt that was a concern for the makers of Gazelle.

The Co-Habitant was thoroughly impressed by the design of the GazelleA-Touren's rear triangle, and believes it to be a better (more integrated) system than that of the vintage Raleigh DL-1 or of the modern Pashley.

Everything on the Gazelle fits together just so, as if the parts were all custom-made for each other. And once the chainguard is off, the fork ends are cut in such a way, so as to facilitate wheel removal. The 28" wheels with the stainless steel rims weigh a ton.

The routing of the tail light is entirely internal: The wiring comes out of the chainstay right next to the fork-end, and snakes along the inside of the rear fender invisibly. These are the kinds of design elements that make this bicycle a fully integrated system - almost an organism - that experiences very few problems. There are fewer things to shake loose, break, or fall out of adjustment, which is what makes it so low maintenance.

I know that some enthusiasts would have next taken the whole bike apart, scrubbed off the rust, polished the frame and components, and put it back together - but we prefer to let functional bikes be. Having checked the drivetrain, none of the components seemed to be any worse for wear despite some cosmetic degradation, so we just cleaned them up a bit, greased everything, adjusted the brakes and shifter, and closed the whole thing back up. I will replace the chain soon just in case, but that is about it. Changing the tires on this bike was easy, and the cracked originals are now replaced with newSchwalbe Delta Cruisers. We also removed the vinyl dressguards and are replacing them with something more personalised. The snow continues today, but by the time it is over the winterised Gazelle will hopefully be ready for her test-ride. Working on this bicycle has made us both appreciate just how well it was built. I know that the current-productionGazelles differ in the way they are constructed, but I hope that they retained at least some of the ingenuity of the original design.