From Japan (Part 16): High Style in Shibuya2
by Mark V on Jul 14, 2007 at 1:49 PM
Caught this number outside a street boutique in Shibuya.
by Mark V on Jul 14, 2007 at 1:49 PM
Caught this number outside a street boutique in Shibuya.
by Mark V on Jul 14, 2007 at 12:39 PM
this weekend I had intended to ride STP. I’m not saying that I had been training super-hard, but I had felt that Japan had toughened me up enough for me to roll those 200 miles in a single day. But then I ate something bad earlier in the week something really bad. I’ve barely eaten anything in four days and I’ve been chronically dehydrated which by the way, is NOT the optimal preparation for STP. Instead of STP, I am posting a little more of my trip in Japan
So there we were on the road out of Takayama, headed east through the mountains to Matsumoto. We roll through little neighborhoods of modest houses and rice paddies, the road almost imperceptibly growing steeper as it led us to the first climb of the day. Homeboy says it’s only 870 meters total elevation, but to be honest, all these numbers are meaningless to me. The total distance in kilometers makes no impression on me .. I can’t see my cyclo-computer because the map case obscures it and as a child of the flatlands of Florida, I don’t even understand vertical gain in either metric or US measures. All I know is that it’s gonna be steep and long today, but I don’t know if my knee is gonna let me do it.
We go steady up the narrow road, which homeboy charted specifically to avoid truck traffic and tour buses. Trucks are wide with limited visibility, but the sheer length and crap turning radius of tour buses can automatically force cyclists off the road on these twisty mountain roads. It’s Monday however, so the tour bus traffic should be less than peak.
The other hazards we try to avoid are tunnels. The tunnels are two-lane but they ain’t all that wide. There is a curb on either side that would accommodate pedestrians, not cyclists. It’s not that the tunnels are inherently dangerous, it’s just that we’re afraid of getting run down by the afore mentioned trucks and buses. Some of these tunnels are up to a kilometer in length. The tunnel entrances sit agape in the mountain face, swallowing bikes, riders, and light. But the roar of an overtaking truck rumbles all through the throat of the dragon the instant the lumbering vehicle enters. We might have half the length left to escape the tunnel, but we can hear those trucks coming for us a half click behind us. It sounds like the truck is already on your neck, but it never seems to pass you. You want to see how far back it is, but you’re afraid to look behind lest you swerve into the truck’s path or into the curb. It’s a special flavor of hell, a dark pit where you endlessly flee before some unseen demon. We’re Tolkien’s hobbits fleeing the balrog down in the mines of Moria. And all about us the sound of terror.
You desperately search for the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel, all the while contemplating your mortality. You actually have conversations with your deity like this:
Oh Great One, I accept whatever fate you may graciously bestow upon this humble soul, whether it be a blessed life of joy in the fair light of day or a violent, rending death in the jaws of these mechanical beasts, my grave this cold wound in the mountain’s side .just stop f#*king toying with me and get it over with “
The tunnels weren’t the only horror awaiting us on the big push to Matsumoto. No, there was something else to fear, something I hadn’t even considered despite Fraulein Nele’s sighting in Takayama: monkeys. At about 1400M on the big climb, I was convinced that my knee was strong enough to power me on to our destination. I had even taken over pace setting from homeboy. The air was still but heavy in mists. Standing pools swarming with tadpoles lined the single lane road, and the forest clung closely to guard rail. That’s when I heard a sound like a lap dog being strangled, and homeboy called out: Monkeys!
Sweet Jesus! Of all the nightmares to find me in foreign lands, it had to be monkeys. I don’t know why everyone wants to anthropomorphize monkeys into cute, entertaining creatures like Curious George. To me, there really are few things in this world more disturbing than monkeys and baboons. To be sure, they are somewhat bipedal, have eyes on the front of their heads, and have opposable thumbs as if they were fuzzy, little people, but when one looks into their eyes..those windows to the human soul all that is seen are swirling pits of insanity!
When I was a child, I learned that during a famine in Africa, hoards of ravenous baboons had surrounded settlers in the shadow of Mount Kilimanjaro. The people had to close ranks and fight off the waves of hunger-maddened baboons intent on devouring their living flesh. Not an ideal vacation.
Now, I know full well this mountain that we’re on now is not Kilimanjaro and that these are not baboons but why take chances? Our bikes weigh half a metric ton and we’re wearing cycling cleats clearly our ability to retreat is severely hampered and we are not on defensible ground. Those red-faced snow monkeys can move through the trees with considerable ease, though I wouldn’t say with grace. Still with the width of the road, the break in the trees, and the relative flatness of the road immediately in front, we can probably put enough distance between us to ..what?….what’s homeboy doing?…..you’re stopping to take pictures?…..are you f#*king crazy?!!!!
Somehow despite homeboy’s deathwish, we manage to escape, but we still have a few hundred meters of vertical gain to go, or so I’m guessing.
Neither of us knows exactly, since there are no landmarks to compare to the map. These roads are disorienting because the steepness of the mountainside means you can’t see how the road loops back and higher and higher. Everything is just impossibly lush and green, flush with water brought by the mountain mists and countless streams. This country Japan I’ve never conceived of a land or people that could control and commune with water elemental like this. Every house, rice paddy, gutter, dam, and mountain stream has been carefully sculpted and tuned by the Japanese. I think that water thus goes wherever they ask it to go. And up here on this mountain, I am winding up through the source of all that water which is the life of central Japan. For the first time I can feel how one could be satisfied living in a place so remote. These green mountains fill me with a sense of peace that I have not found in the Appalachians, Rockies, or the Swiss Alps. I’m just saying that I can feel it, not that I want to live the rest of my life here .I know myself better than that .I do like my bright city lights and supermarkets and rock shows and
What the f#*k? What’s homeboy doing? HOMEBOY ATTACKS!
Homeboy launches an attack, stomping on the pedals like it’s a KOM sprint nay, like it’s a stage finish on the f#*king L’Alpe d’Huez! Are we at the top of the pass? Can he see something that I can’t? I’m the one with the map! Map, map, map .where are we? Wait a minute, I still don’t think we’re quite there yet. Should I tell him? Nah, he’ll figure it out .just let him blow up first. At 8-10% grade, he can’t keep that up for long.
A hundred or so meters later homeboy calls for rest break. I work to hide both my labored breathing and my little chuckle of schadenfreude. Hee hee.
Eventually we get to a wet right-hand hairpin that is unmarked but has a carpark and lookout. Beyond, the road wraps onto a new face of the mountain and tellingly slopes down. Gentleman, we have the achieved the summit, the mountain is ours!
We haven’t seen a car in in a very long time, and below us nothing but an ocean of green. Thus the line of enormous powerline towers seems especially out of place on the verdant mountain peak…like a marching cloumn of giant aliens filing straight down this moutain face, through the valley, and climbing out of view into the flowing curtains of mist. In the damp and otherwise silent alpine air, we can hear the powerlines sizzle.
After the obligatory stretch and snapshot opportunity, we mount up and begin a wet descent. Homeboy leads at a prudent pace, no doubt aware of the distance yet to be covered and the physics of a heavily laden bicycle on rain-slicked hairpins. There is a long way to go and actually one more climb on the way to Matsumoto, though of much lesser diffi .MARK ATTACKS!
My knee feels good and I want to go, go, GO! I just have to punch it out of the turns and hit the binders deep in the turns gravity will do the rest! Whooo-hooo! BONZAI! Super-president! TWO HOURS of climbing up that pass, let’s ride this bitch all the way to Matsumoto! SUPER-PRESIDENT! .uh, where’d homeboy go?
Hey, I lost you back there….did you see more monkeys or something? What’s that? You’re afraid of crashing and dying? You say that like it’s a bad thing. Really, now you’ve got to get over this irrational fear of death.
After three major passes, 125km, 7 hours and just 2 Coca Colas, we arrived in Matsumoto…
by Byron on Jul 13, 2007 at 2:40 PM
In the Northwest, we know, ride, and race with the guys from Novara and they invited us to REI HQ to check out their 2008 product line. For the first episode of the Huggacast, Steve Gluckman, Novara Brand Manager, and Chris Mahan, Senior Graphic Designer, show us their new carbon Squadra with SRAM’s gruppo.
Note: REI is not a sponsor of Bike Hugger, they’re just into bikes as much as we are and they’ve got some cool stuff to show in follow-on episodes, like their new folder … .
by Byron on Jul 13, 2007 at 5:52 AM
Riding home last night, I took this photo of Kelli chilling on Alki Beach with her feet up on the saddle of an old Schwinn.
by Byron on Jul 12, 2007 at 3:52 PM
Floyd Landis is signing books tonight at Third Place Books in Lake Forest Park @ 7 pm. I’m at a family picnic and can’t make it. If any of our readers are going, please leave comments.
UPDATE FROM ANDREW: My mom called me all excited today from the filming of KOMO TV Northwest Afternoon. It turns out Floyd stopped by the afternoon local variety show to explain his story and promote his book. They usually post their content on their site so I’ll link the clip once it’s up.
Holy cow - how did I miss this? It seems Floyd was cruising around Seattle yesterday with Jim Caple of ESPN.
by Byron on Jul 12, 2007 at 9:55 AM
We’re working on getting a set of Lew wheels on the hugga’s bikes for a review; especially after they announced a sub 1,000 gram wheelset made with their PRO VT-1 tubular rims, Tune hubs, Sapim spokes, and hybrid-ceramic bearings. Weight weenies can customize the wheels further to sub 880 grams with various upgrades. Also check the Tech Talk video with Paul Lew (Windows Media).
by Byron on Jul 12, 2007 at 9:04 AM
“It was just something like Mount Everest. It was there, and you felt you had to do it.”
Reading about 80-year old Leroy Varga’s (subscription) preparation for the Paris-Brest-Paris Randonneur in the New York Times, reminded me of the time I stopped to help a cyclist near the top of Snoqualmie pass. I was driving over the pass to Eastern Washington and saw a old cyclist, with touring gear, walking his bike up the pass. I stopped to check if he was ok and he said, “yes, my knees just hurt, I’m 85, and rode from Maine.” Rode from Maine at 80 I thought, man, and I struggle just to train a few days a week.
That certainly changed my perspective and on the hugga to-do list are randonnées. This year, we’ll have a blogger riding and posting about Paris-Brest-Paris this year.
by Byron on Jul 11, 2007 at 6:15 PM
From the, “huh, what?” department comes the news that the Kestrel RT700 is winning awards from Outside magazine, IDSA , and BusinessWeek. The “huh” part is this award-winning feature
“Even the seatstays have been considered; here they’re designed to present an easily-discernible hourglass silhouette to riders behind, which is important during group rides or pack races where cyclists behind you need to be able to see you.”
Followed with a “what?” I’ve read that passage several times and still don’t understand it. How is that better than just seeing their butt, legs, or entire body? This bike must attract the tri-athletes and I’m sure is a really nice bike, but that’s an odd winning observation, especially with the amazing advances in technology coming from Trek, Specialized, Scott, and Issac. Or the custom carbon work from Parlee.
by Byron on Jul 11, 2007 at 6:05 PM
Call it guerilla marketing, street marketing, blog marketing, or guys just digging what they’re doing, it’s fun to watch SRAM make an impact on the road and at the tour. Check the photo of them unfurling the Make the Leap flag on the podium.
by Byron on Jul 11, 2007 at 2:33 PM
Spent the morning photographing Bettie at Elliott Bay Bicycles and the Olympic Sculpture Park. The professional shots we’ll post about later. This photo is one of mine with Bettie next to Richard Serra sculptures. See more photos from this series in our photostream.