The Little Shop Over the Border

Arlon isn't exactly at the top of the list for tourists passing through Belgium.  Sure, it's the oldest city in the country, but unlike the time trapped towns of Bruges and Gent, it kept on trucking into the modern era.  So, what we have is a city with a few old churches, a lackluster archaeological museum, a few war monuments here and there, an IKEA, but not much else to draw in busloads of tourists.  It's just a city in Belgium and that's about it.  Or so it seems.

I'm going to let you in on a little secret about Arlon.  Outside the city center and over by the train station there's this shop.  It doesn't look like much, actually it kinda looks like a doctor's office.  But behind its doors, is a room (a small room) full from floor to ceiling with some of the best beers in the world.  I know, I know, just another beer shop in Belgium, right? Wrong.  Yeah, it's a small place but every single one of their stock is hand selected by the owners, Jean and Chris, to provide their customers with only the best craft beers from the Province of Luxembourg (not to be confused with the Grand Duchy of the same name), the rest of Belgium, and anything else they can get their hands on from other parts of the world.

You will see some of the better known brews from Belgium, like Trappistes Rochefort, but this is also the place to get your hands on much rarer brews that can only be found locally or those that were only brewed and bottled once from some of the bigger names.   These aren't beers you crack open during the game, but ones that you cellar for years and save for a special occasion.  We're currently holding onto a St. Bernadus Abt 12 Magnum Edition that is quite the formidable ale.  They also pull in some great brews from further afield.  Their recent shipment from the States included brews from Rogue (gotta love some Dead Guy) and Hoppin' Frog, that's right fellow Akronites, Hoppin' Frog.  In addition to their acquisition of D.O.R.I.S The Destroyer and Hop Dam, they also recently stocked a few bottles of rare collaboration brews, Super Charged Saison (with Brouwerij de Molen) and Frog Hops to Amager (with Amager Bryghus).  Neither of these are available in the US market.  Stock changes often so it's worth making a trip over regularly to see what has been added to the shelves.  Of course, the owners have their customers' backs and regularly update their Facebook page and website with the latest acquisitions so you don't miss out on anything good.

Besides an excellent selection of brews, the best thing Miorge Mihoublon has going for it are its owners, Jean and Chris.  These guys are passionate about craft beer and it shows as soon as you walk in the door.  They love to talk beer and are happy to welcome you in and talk about it for as long as you like.  They'll lead you around the store, describing certain brews and brewing techniques in detail.  Let them know what you like in a beer and they'll point you in the right direction.  You won't leave empty handed.  In fact, you'll likely leave with a case.  They also make some chocolates which can be purchased, but personally I think their house brews are where they really shine.  I prefer the Jean|Chris Numero 2.  Now's the time to head over, as we roll into the holiday season.  There's a whole shelving unit dedicated to the Christmas Ales, some of which have been voted best in the world.  Mmmm, the beer cellar is calling...

Cheers!

That Relish

www.wikipedia.org

Cranberry Relish.

For years and years, it has appeared on our Thanksgiving table.  For years and years, it sat untouched.  For some reason it had to be there despite the fact no one sitting around the table particularly cared for it.  But, its presence was seemingly just as important as the turkey, stuffing, and sweet potatoes.

The cranberry, of course, is synonymous with New England culture.  The American Indians had been using cranberries for food, medicine, and even dye throughout eastern North America.  They introduced them to the hapless English settlers at Plymouth Colony.  Supposedly, cranberries have been gracing Thanksgiving tables ever since.  Cranberry cultivation became an important contributor to the economy in modern day Massachusetts and other parts of the United States where they grow in abundance.  If you ever have a chance to see a cranberry harvest, it is quite the sight.  One of my memories from my years working in Plymouth, MA was stopping by the Ocean Spray store on the waterfront for a cranberry something and having a taste of cranberry wine at the local wine shop.  Cranberries, apparently, are just as important to the local economy as the Pilgrims themselves.  Today, of course, cranberries have been named members of the power food club, due to their potential benefits for urinary tract health.  Cranberries and cranberry juice can be found year round, and make frequent appearance in "health food" products and recipes.

Ok, now back to the relish.  You can buy it in a can, you can buy it in a jar.  You can buy the raw ingredients to make it yourself and add another step to your Thanksgiving preparations.  This year, we picked up a jar of Ocean Spray relish at the British specialty shop down in Capellen.  As usual, sit sat mostly untouched in its bowl.  It was there, that's all that matters.  It wouldn't have been a proper Thanksgiving feast without it, you know.

There was one year we decided to go a little crazy by revisiting the cranberry relish issue.  My husband made "Mama Stamberg's Cranberry Relish" which he heard about on NPR.  While the mixture of fresh cranberries, onion, sour cream, and horseradish may sound like the worst concoction of a condiment to ever appear on a holiday table, let me tell you, it beats the pants off of those abhorrent slices of jelly from the can.  Don't believe me?  Well, according to NPR it's been a popular topic on the airwaves since first introduced to the American public in 1971.  Martha Stewart and, uh, Coolio both approve, so it's worth a shot, right?

Anyway, whatever your opinion on the infamous cranberry relish, there's one thing we can agree on.  This time of year can be full of activities and traditions we may not be particularly fond of- Black Friday, sitting down to dinner with those people (we all have them), untangling Christmas lights, having to listen to Santa Baby one too many times, trying to figure out what present to buy Uncle Herb (the man without a single interest or hobby) yet again, seeing the neighbors have purchased another tacky addition to their inflatable decoration collection, elbowing through the crowds in the store on December 23rd to get that one thing you forgot the other day, and cranberry relish.

Nevertheless, despite all the hassle, there's something special about the holiday season.  No matter how jaded we get, there's a moment somewhere along the way that gives us the warm fuzzies.  It might be sitting back and enjoying the decorations in all their lit and untangled glory, hearing Bing Crosby's White Christmas on the radio, Mom's stuffing, the smell of fresh cut pine, egg nog, mulled wine, Great Lakes Christmas Ale, holiday edition coffee, Rankin-Bass Christmas specials, the first snowfall, Linus reading from Luke in A Charlie Brown Christmas, a fire on the hearth, or the look on someone's face when they open their gift.  There's always something that get's you.  That's the moment when all the other stuff about the holidays doesn't matter, it's that feeling we look forward to.  It makes the crap worth it.

Whether the big day is St. Nicholas Day, Feast of the Immaculate Conception, Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, St. Stephen's Day, Boxing Day, or New Year's Eve, when you find yourself in that moment enjoy every minute.  These times are meant to be savored.

So, give in, celebrate, pass the relish, and have a very happy holiday!

Don't Let A Good Part Go

A discarded MTB wheel gets a bright new future.

A few months ago I did a double take.  We were doing some exploring and ended up in a dead end alley that are common in twisty, turny European cities.  Lo and behold, amidst a pile of cardboard, old carpet, and trash bags was a pile of bike wheels.  Now, I don't normally rummage through other people's garbage, but good grief!  Who the heck throws out perfectly decent wheels?  The bike shop on the other side of the alley, apparently.  They weren't high-end or that great looking, sure, but that didn't warrant chucking them in the alley.  They were true, had all their spokes, and the hubs were in good shape.  Oh well, their wastefulness was our gain.  We made out with a decent stash of beater wheels of various ages, types, conditions, and sizes.  Turns out none of them fit our bikes, but just because you can't use a wheel for its intended use doesn't mean you can't use it at all, right?

It didn't take long to formulate some crafty plans for these wheels.  First project on the list was to solve a lighting problem in our living room. In most rental situations in Europe, you have to buy all the light fixtures and have them installed when you move in.  We happen to have an exceptionally sweet landlord who bought most of the lights himself.  One of the lights he bought was the overhead for the living room, but for some unknown reason it has never shown up.  There was mix up after mix up at the shop and from what we gather, the subject was eventually dropped.  It's a long complicated story, but the gist of it is that we still didn't have an overhead light in our living room after nearly a year of living here. His money, not ours.  Whatever.

In steps a lonely, discarded mountainbike wheel.  We figured with a little dressing up, we could concoct a decent light from it for a fraction of the price of a store bought fixture of similar size.  So, we made a trip to the hardware store.  We picked up some craft wire, a couple boxes of decorative bobbles and doodads, a cheap overhead light fixture, a roll of tape with some built-in color changing LEDs, and some chain.  There's nothing a little steel wool can't tackle, so between it and a little degreaser I got the wheel as shiny as it was the day it rolled off the floor.  We fed the cord of the 10€ light through the hub and adhered the LED tape to where the old rim tape use to be.  I used the craft wire to hang some extra bicycle chain and bobbles from the rims and the shade of the central light.  After a handful of hours and 80€ or so later, we had a pretty nifty light for our living room.  All the wiring was already hooked up at the ceiling so all we had to do was plug it in.  Et voilà!  We now have a light!

I, for one, am pretty pleased.  For our first reuse project, the Cycle Recycle light came out pretty darn good.  Turns out there are all sorts of things you can do with an old wheel, so there will probably be more such crafts in our future.  After all, we still have a few of those redeemed wheels waiting for a second chance.

Lighten Up

Winter has come back around again and with winter comes darkness, complete cold and total darkness.  You leave for work under the cover of night and return home the same way.  We haven't even been through the worst of it it yet.   Five weeks until the solstice.  The further north you are, the darker it gets.  After a few weeks, you can't remember where you put your sunglasses and you don't even care.  You won't need them until May, perhaps April.  It's no wonder things like drinking, drug use, and suicide go up this time of year.  If you happen to live in places like Northeast Ohio or, errr.. Luxembourg winter is even more joyful- constant cloud cover.  Need I say more?

This time of year, more than any other, it's imperative that those of us out of two wheels  do everything possible to be visible.  While it's easy to blame drivers the rest of the time for "just not seeing the cyclist," nighttime is a whole nuther ball of wax.  Low light situations mean everything is harder to spot- bikes, pedestrians, animals, and even other cars.  It's one thing in urban areas with street lights, but out in the sticks if something isn't lit up of its own accord, the chance of a collision increase.  So, do yourself a favor and lighten up.  While you may be worried about looking ridiculous, personally I'd rather look like a fool than be dead.  Here are some of my favorite methods for staying visible during the winter months.

1). High-Vis clothing.  Even if the sun is up, visibility is still low this time of year especially in the overcast areas.  Investing in a high-vis jacket, vest, or pants will go a long way towards getting noticed on the road.  It may look goofy, but it's worth it.

2.) Lighting.  In Europe, many bicycles come with stock, dynamo powered headlights and taillights.  Most people rely on those and the reflectors on the wheels for visibility.  Let me tell ya something, unless you have a high end bike with a high-end lighting system, these lights are crap.  Seriously.  You know how a flashlight looks right before the batteries die?  That's about the power behind the stock headlights.  So, either upgrade your headlight or purchase some add-ons.  I have a special place in my heart for Nite Rider lights.  You can't miss em.  One of these bad boys on the handlebars, fork, or helmet will get you seen.  But, where ever you mount it, make sure it's aimed in a way so as not to blind other cyclists.  A bright light right in the eye is almost as dangerous as no light at all.  Pair the headlight with their equally powerful tail light and you're good to go.  Well, almost.

3.) Highlight movement.  Bicycles come with reflectors, yes, but it doesn't hurt to add a little more.  A roll of 3M reflective tape won't cost you much, but it can go a long way.  While you can stick it to the back of your helmet, backpack, or cargo rack, it's best to use it where it can be most effective- on things that move, like the back of your shoes.  Of course, don't forget being visible from the side in addition to the front and back.  Reflective tape works great on crank arms and a strip here and there on your rims will do wonders.  Of course, if you have some extra funds something like this may be up your alley.

http://www.monkeylectric.com/

4.) Ride visibly.  All the lights and reflective stuff in the world isn't going to help you if you're riding on the side walk, on the wrong side of the street, passing stopped cars on the right, or running red lights.  Ride correctly, take the lane, and communicate clearly with drivers.  Following the traffic laws is your best bet for staying in drivers' line of sight and out from under their bumpers.  While collisions can happen even when cyclists are doing everything right, the chances of a collision go way up when we choose to ignore the laws.

Most drivers, at least I (desperately) hope so, don't want to hit you any more than you want to be hit.  Granted, all the responsibility for getting home safe should not fall completely on the cyclist's shoulders.   But, don't make it harder on everyone by riding around like a ninja either.  This time of year, chances are you're riding in the dark.  So, spend a few bucks on visibility, cycle safely and enjoy the ride!

Falling Rocks, Cheese, and Snow

When one thinks of the famous Bernese Alps, the mind often wanders to images straight out of Heidi- pastures of wildflowers, babbling brooks, and small villages with snow covered peaks towering above it all.  The fantasy, in all truthfulness, is not too far from reality.  The only difference being that much of the population in the large towns of this idyllic area are the transient tourists from Asia, Britain, and the Americas coming to backpack, ski, base jump, and ride the railways and cables up to the mountain tops.  With the motley ambiance of camera clicks and incoherent chattering in a dozen languages, one may forget that the perfection of the scenery meeting the eyes is completely legitimate and not a fabricated theme park of rebar and plaster.

Do not despair, however, you need not travel far to escape the bustling chaos of the resort towns.  The "real" Bernese Alps are steps away.  Yes, Virginia, there is still a corner here and there that has not completely succumbed to modern progress.  You can still climb a mountain (yes, an actual mountain with a name) all morning and arrive in a village where the economy is still based on cattle raising and cheese making.  The villagers are not paid to dress up in felt costumes and talk to bus loads of Japanese and American tourists.  They're going about their lives just as they have done for a thousand years.  Sure, modern conveniences are there and they will not stick their noses up at an opportunity to make a little money operating ski lifts in the winter, but the bottom line is what it has always been.  Life changes slowly in the Bernese Alps, away from the resort towns of Interlaken and Grindelwald.  They still celebrate the seasonal cattle drive to the high pastures in the spring and their return to the lower altitudes in the Fall with ceremonial trychel ringing.  They still make the cheese the same way their great-great-great grandfather did and they still sell it to passersby from their windowsills.

There is much local pride for this famous Alpkäse.  Rumor has it that true Alpkäse connoisseurs can tell on what wildflowers and what pasture the cattle grazed just from its flavor.  While Alpkäse in general is firm, creamy cheese with a thick rind, each village has its own unique cheese, with a flavor and texture all its own.  While you can purchase the cheese direct from the maker, nearly every village has its own cheese shop where you can buy many of the regional varieties.  That is the place to hit, for the proprietress will be happy to slice off some samples for you before you make your final selection.  The choice may not be as easy as it seems.  Some cheeses are fairly young with a soft flavor, while others have been aging in a shed somewhere for a few years.  The smell alone could cause a stagger back.  We sampled a bit from a Lauterbrunnen shop across from the train station and decided that our personal favorite was the cheese produced right there in Lauterbrunnen itself, instead of the other regional cheeses in stock.  Perfectly mild and buttery, it paired nicely with some alp sausage and beer.

If you're concerned all that cheese consuming will slow you down, have no fear.  You cannot go into the Bernese Alps and not partake in some outdoor activity.  This land is made for it.  Whether it's skiing, snowboarding or mountain climbing in the winter or backpacking and mountain biking in the summer, the Bernese Alps will provide everything you need to get the blood pumping.  No matter the fitness level, with all the rail and cable service from town to town no gradient can hold you back.  Step off the valley floors and into the lofty heights above.  It is perfectly acceptable to let your jaw drop.

Leave the empty trappings of the tourist towns with their Hooters Bars, shiny resorts, knife and watch shops, and helicopter tours.  Take a chance and turn onto a trail to places unknown.  Follow a waterfall to its source.  Hear the rumble of a distant avalanche high above on the glacier covered peaks where men have climbed to success or tragic failure with hemp ropes and homemade crampons.  Hear the histories of those legendary peaks from the crusty old herders in stocking caps who've climbed them during their glorious youth.  Breathe in the crisp Alpine air and feel alive again.  No noise except the bells around the necks of countless cows.  No congestion except the sheep crossing the mountain roads.  No smog, just the low hanging clouds in the cold mornings.  The bus loads of gawking and stumbling tourists can be left behind quickly and easily, if you're willing to take a chance.

While the region is happy to welcome visitors from all over the world coming to enjoy all it has to offer, it still manages to remain true to itself.  If you're willing to wander, you'll see it.  It may sting a little.  The calves may burn.  But, I guarantee it is worth the pain.  It is worth every second.

Getting That Perfect Cup At Home

Coffee.  You either love it or you hate it.  I used to be a hater, until one fateful overnight drive from Boston.  The only thing that could keep us going were truly miserable cups o' joe out of a vending machine.  When you start at the bottom, you can only go up.  It took a genuine cup a day later to make it official, I was converted.  I quickly progressed from coffee with sugar and milk, to straight black, the stronger the better.  The Mr. also prefers his black and bold, but with a couple lumps.

It wasn't until we moved here that we were properly introduced to what would become the coffee we have always been subconsciously searching for.  Sure, obviously we have espresso in the United States but with all the macchiatos, spiced lattes, mochas, and sugar bomb Frappuccinos the good stuff doesn't get a lot of screen time.  For most people, it's a bit of a fringe drink.  Very Euro.  Very small.  Too strong.  Not a proper cup of coffee.  For me, it was love.  And it wasn't only the espressos, but even the "standard" pressure brewed coffees were a revelation.  I'd rather have a small, perfectly smooth and strong cup, than a big mug of filtered Joe any day. It didn't take long to determine who pulled the best espressos in town.  Our cafe is a great place to grab a cold beer and watch the people walk by, but their espressos were nearly a quarter grit.  The Chinese restaurant around the corner, however, pulls a brilliant shot and they also serve them with my favorite biscuits.  Before long, having an espresso or a coffee after dinner at a restaurant became as necessary as dessert.  We played with the idea of picking up an espresso machine for home since going out is a rarity, but at nearly 600€ a pop it looked like our fine coffee drinking would be reserved for a night out or a mid or post ride stop at a cafe.

All that changed last Friday night when we went to a friend's house.  After a delicious and relaxed dinner of raclette and dessert of chocolate cake, she offered us some coffee.  That's when we learned about Nespresso.  We didn't know anything about Nespresso.  We figured that it was something like a Keurig machine, that has captured the hearts of so many people back home.  Well, like we say here in Luxembourg, nee! (pronounced "nay", not "ni" as in the Knights Who Say).  Nespresso is a whole nuther animal altogether.  It takes the same concept of pre-measure and packaged servings of finely ground coffee, but brews them under high pressure instead of with the filtration method.  What you get is the capability of having a lungo or espresso at home without the cost and labor of a traditional machine.  All you do is pop one of the nifty capsules in the machine, choose what serving size you want, push the button, and Bam!- a few seconds later you have a perfect cup of espresso, complete with the rich crema foam.  Sure, coffee purists may scoff at such a method, but in my opinion we're not all interested in becoming baristas.  We just want a delicious cup of espresso without the time, hassle and expense.  There are many different machines you can choose from that come in a variety of colors and price ranges and have different capabilities.  The highest priced machine is just a hair cheaper than a tradition espresso machine, but also automatically brews cappuccinos.  It will even pre-warm your cup for you. Lower priced models have fewer bells and whistles, but many still warm milk for cappuccinos and lattes. 

They have 16 different varieties of fair trade coffee.  Five to six grams of the finely ground coffee are packaged in the aluminum Grand Crus, which are air tight and designed for a perfect short pour or long pour espresso, depending on the variety.  When the capsule is clamped into the machine, it is perforated and the super heated water is forced through with high pressure.  When the pouring is finished, opening the machine releases the spent capsule and the process is complete.  It takes at most 4 minutes including the time for the machine to heat the water.

There are Nespresso Boutiques all over Europe and the machines are sold in the States at many stores like Macy's and Crate & Barrel.  For those who do not live near a boutique, such as anyone in Northeast Ohio, there is a club from which members can order the capsules online to be delivered at home and receive other benefits such as coupons and seasonal promotions.  They are still rather new to the market in the States, but over time the brand is hoping to expand across the Atlantic.  Of course, espresso at home may still be too fringe for the American crowd.

If you're wondering what happens to all those aluminum capsules, that is really up to the consumer.  Nespresso makes recycling them a very easy process.  They will give you free bags to collect your spent capsules, which can either be dropped off at any Kiala collection point (there are 40 in Luxembourg alone), returned to one of the Nespresso Boutique shops, or handed to the delivery person who is dropping off your next order.  There's really no reason why you can't participate in the recycling process.  More information on the company's environmental policies can be found here.

Is the Nespresso thing for the yuppie crowd, the latte liberals?  Yeah, I'd say so.  When you walk into one of those boutiques everyone is dressed in designer suits and sipping samples at the bar while talking about global finance.  Well... that probably has something to do with being in Lux City.  But, the salesperson will talk about the design of the machines, instead of their functions.  The coffees are described as luxurious, sultry, and sophisticated.  It's definitely marketed as a status appliance; not gonna lie.  But here's the thing, these machines are for people who enjoy espresso and want an easy way to have a nice cup with their favorite biscuit at home.  Espresso isn't something you pour into your travel mug and gulp in the car on the way to work.  It's a drink to be enjoyed over conversation, after a good meal or a long bike ride.  Of course, the cycling crowd has a special affinity for fine coffee.  There's something we love about pausing halfway or finishing a ride with the perfect cup.  For those who's only option is the corner Starbucks or the place that serves every cup with .5cm of grounds in the bottom, investing in a Nespresso may be the way to go.  Anyway, where better to enjoy your well earned java than at your own table ?

At the risk of being labeled a snob, I say you get what you pay for and sometimes it's worth paying a little extra for something you relish.

Cracking Open Some Tastiness In Vianden

One Sunday every October there's a big hoopla in the picture postcard town of Vianden.  People from all over park anywhere they can wedge their Audis and shuffle down the hill all for the sheer purpose of celebrating walnuts.  Yep, walnuts.

At first glance, it may seem hard to believe that walnuts are worth celebrating.  Despite their nutritional benefits, I wouldn't put the walnut is at the top of the shindig worthy list.  I mean, pistachios, sure, and cashews most definitely, but walnuts? Eh.  But, walnuts have a special place in the hearts of Vianden and every year you get a whole Sunday all about 'em.  Despite any doubts one may have about a walnut festival, I promise that if you give it a chance you may find yourself having a new found appreciation for the Nutcracker's victuals.

Ok, no, the music isn't good.  Don't go for the music.

The food is where it's at.

They take the lowly walnut and turn them into some pretty delicious things.  There's walnut cakes and there's walnut candies, and pâté, and nougat, and sausages, and breads.  The breads in particular are something else.  You can buy a loaf of bread the size of a small child.  There are countless varieties of sausages also made with walnut bits, some as tall as you and some molded into the shape of a pig.  Then, there are the beverages.

Every single stall, and there are countless stalls, sells walnut brandys and liqueurs.  The bottles come in a variety of shapes and sizes.  You can buy it in a half meter pipe or you can buy it in a motorcycle.  It's stuff one sips after a nice meal, not something you dump into the hip flask.  But, as the festival revs up that's exactly what some folks do and things can get pretty rowdy.  So, the festival shuts down at the rather early hour of 7pm.  That's probably for the best.  I'd say grab your walnut provisions and head out long before to beat the traffic.  It's a lot easier to climb back up the hill without cars, shuttle buses, and staggering revelers to deal with.

The festival itself isn't really the draw, it's what you can buy there that is worth the hike and the crowds.  So, next October if you're in the area, I'd recommend popping down to Vianden to pick up some nut-tastic treats.  They're something unique to the region and the season and definitely worth giving a try.

While the walnuts themselves aren't anything to write home about, the other treats at the festival are worth the trip.

Reaching Stage Five

I watched the online talk with trepidation last Wednesday.  As the day dawned, the murmuring began.  "Today the USADA will release its report."  I was uncomfortable about it.  A lot of people were going to be hurt and upset by the end of the day.  Reputations of certain, (some of them) respected individuals would be forever tainted.  Cycling was going to get a lot of unpleasant heat.  It was going to be a tough day.  I was out most of the afternoon, when the USA was just starting to rub the sleep of of its eyes.  That evening, I was sitting at the pub with friends enjoying a mid-week pint when the phone started buzzing.  The floodgates had opened.

As you know, I was pretty well informed about the likely contents of the report from previous research.  The names of those that testified had been leaked months ago during the Tour.  I'm still reading through the report itself, but so far there hasn't been any "wow" moments.  I realize that's not the case for many people.  Cycling fans, Armstrong fans, pro cyclists, teams, and even journalists have been dealing with their grief.  You can see those famous "Five Stages of Grief" being played out in comment sections on news sites, Twitter, cycling websites, sports pages, and personal blogs all over the world.  Some people are still in denial, despite the mountain of evidence.  Many fans will "Support Lance" no matter what.  Some insist on avoiding the topic all together.  In fact, many may never progress beyond that point.  Then, there are those going through the anger stage.  Finger pointing has become a favorite coping mechanism of late- it's the fault of the journalists, it's the fault of the fans.  Some have entered the bargaining phase, citing the rampant doping in the peloton of that era or Armstrong's charity work.  Others, and understandably so, are depressed.  Vows have been made to never watch the Tour again.  They can't stand to see another cyclist or race right now.  They've thrown out their yellow bracelets.  They're putting their Lance memorabilia on eBay.  At some point, though, maybe by the time July rolls around, most will be firmly at the end of the process and will accept that the contents of the report are the truth.  Cycling wasn't clean in the 90's.  Beloved riders were involved.  Lance lied and helped to organize the largest doping ring in sports history with tax payer money.  He isn't a role model.  He isn't a good guy.  He will probably never admit it.  There's nothing we can do about it.

Then, and only then will cycling move on.  But, it's going to take a while to get there.  The sport and its fans have to deal with their grief.  Hopefully, part of that process will be the continuing efforts of athletes to come clean and today's teams retiring the hangers on from that era.  Keep in mind, however, closure from something like this will not happen over night.

But, fans of the sport, remember this- no matter what Lance Armstrong did, no matter what those other guys did, no matter what some of the guys are doing now, cycling itself is still pure.  Sure, the pro circuit is not, not by a long shot. But, those guys didn't have a clue what riding a bike is all about.  They lost sight of it a long time ago and it just became a way to make money and get famous.

You and I, we know what it's all about, don't we?   It's a beautiful thing to swing our legs over that saddle, place our feet on those pedals and just go.  We can go wherever we want, we can go as far as we want, and we can go as fast or as slow as we want.  Cycling is the perfect union between man and machine and it is beautiful.  Every day you get out there on your own bicycle, be it to compete, get to work, or spend time with your family, you are experiencing the true beauty of the bicycle.  Drivers can't tarnish it, city planners can't tarnish it, and the corruption of the pro peloton can never, ever tarnish it.   No matter what stage of grief you're in, keep your eyes on that truth.  Beautiful and wonderful things always have something or someone out there trying to hold it down, but the truly perfect things will always outlast the onslaught.

Get out there and pedal on.  Throw off the baggage, the anger, and the activism.  Allow yourself to fall in love with your bicycle and your sport again.

Conclusions Reached

I read the book.  Yes, that book.

Then I read another book and another.  I'm currently reading this one.  Why?  Because I am and always will be a fan of road cycling.  I'm a fan of the performance, the art, and the intensity of the sport.  There's nothing quite like it.  Would I have loved to have been present during a race in which Merckx rode?  Yes, but I'm just as happy to be there watching Team Sky or anyone else.  I'd love to get to a women's race sometime because I'm 100% certain those races are where it's really at.

I'm "the cycling fan" in our circle of friends.  I'm the one that drags her poor husband and (leashed!) dog to all those bike races.  I'm the one that watches the Tour de France everyday, even during the boring flat stages, the one who is still mildly depressed about missing this year's Vuelta.  I'm the one that has caps, cowbells, jerseys, and water bottles hanging on her wall.  If anyone we know has an interest in what a peloton is and how the yellow (or the pink or the gold) jersey is awarded they know who to ask.  They know who to ask about Lance Armstrong and doping.  Unfortunately, a lot of people want to know about those things right now.

So, I read the books because I think it's important to know what you're talking about if you're going to have an opinion.  I needed to know the story in order to get one.

Was I shocked about the revelations in Hamilton's book?  Nope.  Talk and stories have been around for years about what went on at Postal under Armstrong's leadership.  There wasn't anything too new there- concealer on scars, cover ups, payoffs to the UCI, intimidation of witnesses, rage induced tirades, drugs by motorbike, etc.  No, I wasn't surprised.  Nowadays it takes a lot to surprise me when it comes to human behavior.  However, I did find his inclusion of the details to be fascinating- how they covered up the drugs in their systems, how the testing procedures worked and didn't work, and what happens when things go wrong.  After reading all this stuff, I now feel satisfied.  I know what doping means and I know what it looks like.  I know that the drug tests are reliable and a positive is what it is.  That feeling of ambiguity I've always had about this topic is gone.

So, now that I have all this knowledge under my belt, I have my opinions.  Is he telling the truth?  Yes.  There's too many dates, details, evidence, and consistencies to come up with a different conclusion.  Did the top guys at Postal cheat? You bet.  Was the UCI corrupt? Yes.  Is the UCI corrupt now?  Yes.  Are these guys who have come forward with these stories ruining the sport?  Absolutely not.  It's going to take a while and it is painful to hear that favorite athletes and role models cheated, but in the end there is an excellent chance that all of this will lead to the beginning of a new era in cycling, when it becomes the cleanest sport in the world.

Are Hamilton, Millar, and all the others that have been caught and admitted to doping terrible human beings who can't be trusted?  No.  They're cheats.  But, let's get a little perspective on that, shall we?  The fact of the matter is, like that quote in Breaking Away, "Everybody cheats."  Sure, we're not all competing in professional sports or taking illegal drugs, but unless only saints read this blog I'm pretty certain we are all guilty of cutting corners and cheating at some point in order to get ahead of the game.  They may have been legal cheats or illegal, but the fact of the matter is none of us is blameless in life.  In actuality, the people that admit they've screwed up, lied, or cheated are the ones we should admire.  It takes a lot of guts to stand up in front of the world and admit you traded on your integrity to win a special colored shirt or a trophy.  It takes a lot of guts to admit you're scum.  Would you?  Would I?

Do I think dopers are terrible human beings?  No.  I think they're fallible human beings who couldn't resist temptation.  Whether they get caught or not, they sell out for a win and they contribute to the problem.  They take away the chances of honest athletes.  They put themselves and others at risk.  They do all this to win a bike race.  They have a problem and they need help.  But, pro cyclists aren't your average human beings.  They live and want to live an extreme life.  No one can say the guys that compete at their level aren't tough athletes.  With that lifestyle comes unique challenges, ones most of us never deal with.  We have to respect the fact that they're still people that have the capacity to make huge mistakes just like the rest of us.  If I was told that I'd have to do something unethical (that everyone else does) to keep doing the only thing I thought I was good at in order to stay employed, pay the bills, and put food on the table I'd like to think I'd have the courage to walk away.  However, I'm not naive enough to believe that I wouldn't give it some thought.

What do I think about Lance Armstrong?  Well, to be completely honest with you, I feel terrible for the guy.  He's a deeply troubled soul who is full of anger.  In order to cope with his demons, he turned to sports.  But, it wasn't enough.  So, he did everything he could to win and transcend cycling to become one of the most famous athletes of all time.  He summed up his feelings with a couples quotes,

"Two things scare me. The first is getting hurt. But that's not nearly as scary as the second, which is losing."  

"When I was sick, I didn't want to die.  When I race, I don't want to lose.  Dying and losing, it's the same thing."

So, in order to avoid his greatest fear, he became desperate.  He cheated, like a lot of guys in that era, and then he took it further.  He perfected it and he made it the strategy.  He broke laws, he organized drug trafficking, and he passed money under tables.  There's no getting around it now.

I think he also fears being disliked.  How dare them!  If someone criticizes him, they don't get one ounce of leniency.  They are called some pretty colorful things and you can bet he won't forget for a second that they are out there somewhere disliking him.  Carrying that around everyday can't be easy.  So, do I think he's a horrible person?  No, I think he's someone to pity and that's about it.  He's a human being desperately seeking peace at all costs.  But, I wouldn't go so far as to say he's a nice guy either.  He let his issues take over his life and a lot of people are paying for it.  Yes, I do think that he needs to answer for the laws that he broke during those years.  Since it involved federal funds, witness intimidation, and fraud I think it's more serious than your typical sports doping case.  The whole ball of wax needs to be addressed from the corporations involved to the sport's governing body.  It could get even uglier than it already has.  But, I think it is worth it for the sake of cycling.

All this aside, I will still flick on my television next spring when the season starts again.  I'm still going to drag my husband and dog to the races even when it's pouring to witness a few seconds of that glorious intensity.  But, I have a slightly different take on it now.  I'm now a supporter of particular athletes and teams.  I support the ones that uphold honesty and purity in the sport.  I support the guys that admit things were done, whether they were personally involved or not.  I support all the cyclists out there, men and women, who get on their bikes and race their hearts out on nothing but "pan y agua."  I'm behind the ones that pledge to it.  That's where the sport exists in all truthfulness and that's where it can grow from.


What about the others, those teams that continue to use dishonest means or the athletes who continue to ride unreformed or deny their involvement?  Well, let's just say I'm not going to waste my breath supporting or otherwise.  Whether they cheated or not has no direct effect on my life.  I don't lose any sleep over it.  I'm not going to argue with people or take any more time than I already have researching or dwelling on the matter.  I know the story now and it has made me a more knowledgable fan, a better fan.  Those who have the real problem are the athletes themselves.  

I hope, for their sakes and the sake of the sport, that it doesn't take too much longer to sort all this out.  As is the case in other aspects of life, the truth hurts, but recognizing and accepting it is necessary for progress.

And that's my opinion.

It's in the Autumn Rain

We've circled back to that time of year.  The summer has gone away and we're left with grey, cold days that are beginning later and ending earlier.  The short sleeve jerseys are packed away in their bin, replaced by long sleeves and jackets.  The sunglasses have been replaced by clear ones, the "ladies" safety glasses picked up at the hardware store back in Akron.  The season didn't pause at arm warmers, but barreled on ahead right to the time of overshoes, full fingered gloves, and balaclavas.  You need a headlight in the morning and one in the early evenings.  The sun will be back sometime in May.  Rain, unceasing grey rain, has become synonymous with these days.  A day without it can barely be recalled.

There's nothing quite like riding a bicycle in the rain on a cold autumn day.  The headwinds in the river valley are so strong, going up hill feels like an exercise in futility.  Going down feels like going up backwards.  Everything is quiet, except the "tap tap tap" of rain drops on your helmet and the brim of your cap, pulled down to keep the water out of your eyes.

The coldness starts at the tips of your ears, unwisely left exposed to the elements.  It then creeps to the knees and toes, sometimes the finger tips if the rain is so heavy it soaks through the gloves.   That familiar taste in the back of the throat appears, the one that always kicks in in this kind of weather that you remember so vividly from grade school gym class.  Suddenly, you're not riding your bicycle anymore.  You're running "The Mile" on a cold October day to meet your Presidential Fitness requirements.  You hated running that stupid mile in your gym uniform outside over by the water tower.  You chuckle to yourself, "Those were the days."  The biggest concern in life was running a mile.

Before long you hear that gritty, grinding sound in the chain as it rolls over the cogs.  There's trail gunk in the chain.  Like all rain rides, this one is going to mean some time in the shop afterwards scrubbing the drive train.  There's nothing for it.  If you want to get anywhere when Luxembourg's autumn arrives, you'll be getting there in the rain.  You'll also be riding in the fog.

The fog.  Oh the fog!  It rolls down from the Ardennes with such foreboding and will cling to the ground with such ferocity that it must be something more than fog.  It is a presence, very nearly alive.  It hangs over hill tops; it sits unmoving in valleys and on the winding, twisting roads.  It hides church steeples and castle towers, erasing them from the landscape.  You don't know you've arrived in a town until the corner of a house looms out of the greyness, or a parked car suddenly appears in front of you.  The sound in the fog is beyond bizarre.  There isn't any.  Voices, footsteps, even the sounds of automobile engines are all muffled, as if you are hearing them from underwater.  You very nearly are.  Water clings to everything.  Every blade of grass, fence wire, and dying wildflower is covered in the tiny clear jewels that compose this fog.

This time of year is perfect.  It belongs only to the people who venture outside their homes, shops, and cafes.  There are few of us.  Gone are the cycle tourists from Germany and the Netherlands.  We'll see them again when the sun returns.  We'll happily pass each other with a friendly "Hallo!" next summer.  Gone are the hobbyists.  Their 4,000€ Treks, Giants, and Focuses are hanging on hooks in garages or sitting in trainers or leaning against walls by rollers where they will remain until Spring.  The Nordic Walkers are gone too, though I think they're missing out.  Hiking in the pouring rain or in fog so thick you "could cut it with a knife" is an experience not to be missed.  You only see the same people now.  You know each other, even if you don't speak.  You recognize their pedal stroke ahead.  Both of you look miserable, but you're loving every minute.  Neither of you are particularly quick on the bike, loaded down with all-weather panniers and rain gear.  Neither of you warranted an acknowledgement from all those roadie hobbyists.  But, you're still here.  They aren't.  It's a point of honor, and you both know it.

When these days are gone, replaced by the dark bleakness of winter, I will miss them.  I will miss the spicy smell of dead leaves on the trail.  I will miss those flash downpours that blot out the world around me.   I will miss those dark looming clouds that come pouring in from France every afternoon. I will miss the birds and black squirrels chattering to each other as they pick up the fallen nuts.  I will miss the cows who always come to the fence when I pass.  It is a perfect time of year that only comes once.

But, for now the autumn rain remains.  I believe that when you're on a bike you'll discover that there's magic and beauty in that rain.

A Handlebar View From A GoPro Hero2

A few days ago a parcel arrived in the mail bearing a new toy that I had been looking forward to.  I ripped open the box postmarked from the Netherlands and in it was nestled a rather complicated looking package which contained the GoPro Hero2.

For those of you who have not heard about the GoPro, let me explain.  GoPros are adorable little cameras that have become the go to method for recording sports and outdoor activities from just about any perspective and in any condition you can come up with.

The camera itself is about the size of the palm of my hand.

While it may not look like much or have a lot of bells and whistles (notice the lack of viewfinder or LCD display), the GoPro makes videography and photography of just about any sport easy and a whole lot of fun.  It is particularly popular with cyclists (from commuters to cyclocross racers), surfers, skydivers, snowboarders and skiers...really whoever wants to capture the action of their fast paced activity.  A friend of mine took his along on a chest mount when he ran in a Warrior Dash event a couple years ago.  The resulting footage was hilarious and entertaining.

Now, while it is popular to use for video montages for athletes, bike commuters may also find a helpful use for them.  Not only can you record your commute to show people what it is like, but you may find the footage is indispensable if you have a problem with a driver.  The price tag of $300 for the Outdoor Edition (includes waterproof housing, helmet mount, head strap, and 4 adhesive mounts) may not seem too bad if you have a particularly tricky commute.  I definitely wish I had one when I was buzzed by one of Akron's Finest a couple years back.  In fact, footage from a GoPro may determine if you win in court after an accident.

Of course, having one can open up many doors in photography/videography too.  The optics are 2X Sharper Professional Glass Lens, f/2.8 Fixed Focus, 170º Wide FOV (Including 1080p), 127º Medium FOV (In 1080p), and 90º Narrow FOV.  

Video specs are:

• HD RESOLUTIONS:
• 1080p: 1920×1080, 30FPS
• 960p: 1280×960, 48FPS + 30FPS
• 720p: 1280×720, 60FPS + 30FPS
• STANDARD DEFINITION RESOLUTIONS
• WVGA: 848×480, 120FPS + 60FPS
• High Performance,1 /2.3” CMOS Image Sensor
• Light Sensitivity: .84 V/lux-sec
• Video Format: H.264 codec, .mp4 File Format
• Exposure Control: Spot, Center Weighted
• White Balance: Auto
• Audio: Mono, 48 kHz, AAC Compression, Auto Gain Control, Stereo External Microphone Input (3.5mm)

Photo specs are:

• RESOLUTIONS: 11MP, 8MP, 5 MP
• FOV: Wide 170º FOV, Medium 127º FOV
• CAPTURE MODES: Single, 10 Photo Burst, Time-Lapse, Self-Timer

For more details visit the GoPro Website.  There are several different mounts you can buy including chest straps for lower and more active looking perspectives and mounts for bicycles, surfboards, etc.  You can also get a WiFi remote pack that eventually is supposed to work with smartphones.

So, do I relish this little device?  You bet.  I may get some strange looks from the folks around here (honestly, I get strange looks anyway), but getting some great footage is worth it.  I look forward to using my GoPro to capture my rides here in Europe.  For now, here is a snippet of a brief trip to meet the husband after work as viewed from my handlebars on the FX.

September Bike Commute from CG Inlux on Vimeo.

Valve Snob

I'm a believer.  I believe in Schwalbe tire tubes.  Well, to be fair, I believe in metal valve stems.  Schwalbe just happens to be the brand my LBS carries.

My road to conversion came to an end yesterday when yet another Giant Schrader valve split when I attached the pump nozzle to its fragile, threaded mouth.  That was the sixth tube rendered useless by a sensitive valve stem.  There was no doubt about it anymore, it was time to change brands.  I admit, I had been in denial.  Maybe it was that crappy floor pump I picked up at Walmart last year.  I replaced it with a fancy and overpriced BBB model.  Maybe there was a rough spot in the rim's bore.  OK, there can't be a rough spot in every single bore of every rim in on the Varsity, Trek, and the Diamondback.  Nope, I had to face facts- the problem was the stems.  While the cause for the rubber failure may have been the temperature fluctuations in our shipping container, there's nothing to be done about that.  It was time to move on.

It always seems to happen when I'm running late.  While I have full intent and purpose to get down to the bike garage and check my tire pressure earlier in the day, inevitably I will be rushing at the last minute.  Friday was one of those days.  I already wasted five minutes looking for my gloves and my husband was waiting at the bus stop 4 towns south for our afternoon ride.  I was frazzled.  It looked like rain, so I grabbed the Trek off the rack and nudged the pump's nozzle over the valve.  I hadn't even locked it down when that awful sound- Pssssssfpppphhhhh hit my ears and that familiar hole in the valve stem appeared gaping open, laughing at me.

"Now you're never gonna make it!  Might as well just cancel.  I, the faulty valve stem, have defeated you yet again.  Muwahaha"

Not be beaten by a stupid little tube, I jumped on the Varsity despite the impending rain and the worn out 40-something year old saddle clamp that keeps slipping.  I was late, but I got to the bus stop and we went for our ride.  Thankfully, it didn't rain.  Unfortunately, after all that, I forgot my gloves.

One thing was certain, however.  From now on I'm only buying tubes with metal valve stems.  No more floppy stems that have to be forced into the pump.  No more crappy valve caps that sheer away.  None of this splitting open when I'm running late crap.  Nope, no matter if they're Presta or Schrader, I'm using tubes with a metal stem.

That's that.

Opening Gnome

For our first gnome, I present the "Nestor Qui Dort" mug.  Nestor here usually contains my coffee.  No morning is complete without a little whimsy provided by the proper gnome mug.

Available in the United States through the Kids Category of Kiss That Frog.

Alleys, Bones, and Stones in Ghent

When we decided that a few days in Belgium was in order, the debate came down to where we would spend our time after Brussels- Bruges, the place all the guidebooks raved about, or Ghent its less popular sibling.  The fact that everyone knows about Bruges led us to think the magic could be found in Ghent.  We weren't disappointed.

To say Ghent is old, is to make a gross understatement.  People have been living there on the banks of the Scheldt and Lys rivers since the Stone Age.  Speaking of stones, you'll find quite a few in old Ghent, the heart of the Medieval town out of which grew the largest modern city in East Flanders.  It is the sheer stoniness of the medieval architecture that hits you.  Big rocks are piled on big rocks to create imposing structures like Gravensteen Castle and St. Bavo Cathedral.  The architects of Ghent certainly had something to say when they designed those babies.  "We're the richest wool trading city in Flanders, and we're gonna flaunt it."

Ghent was so big and wealthy it had more markets than could be contained in one square, so they built a few squares.  What you get is the largest car free pedestrian zone in Belgium.  There are worse places to spend the day.

Now, you will find some tourists about, not nearly as many as there are strolling around Brussels or Bruges, but they're there.  With tourists come the usual types of places to grab a bite.  But, I encourage, no, I implore you to take a step outside the box and eat at this wonderful little rib joint, Spare Rib Caffee, just around the corner from Gravensteen Castle on Krannlei.  I first heard about Spare Rib Caffee from Heidi Swift in her article 78 Hours in Ghent from Issue 12 of Peloton Magazine.  When Swift recommends something, you take note.  After all, this is a woman that races cyclocross, goes on solo bike tours for fun, loves a good whiskey, and just finished Reve Tour.

It's not a big place and reservations are a must.  We opted for an early dinner at 7:00pm and the other tables were already full.  Here's the deal:  This is a rib place.  So, don't come here and order the fish brochette or some other wimpy dish you can get at any old place in town.  You order the ribs with the full knowledge that this is all you can eat ribs that come with a big golden bowl of frites and a salad and 5-6 other sauces.  The thing about these ribs, though, is that they're perfectly seasoned in their dry rub so you don't need those other sauces.  But, that unidentified house sauce in the refurbed Heinz bottle is the way to go.  The mayonnaise ones go nicely on the frites.  You'll start out with a full rack and then move on in increments of half racks.  For heanven's sake, don't stop at one rack.  Of course, no meal in any part of Belgium is complete without the proper beer.  I'd go with a Dubbel or a Tripel, maybe something along the smokier line to complement the meat.  However, perhaps your best choice is a Gulden Draak, the dark and heavy brew in the white bottle named for the weathervane on top of Ghent's belfry.  It all goes together nicely.  While your fellow dinners may be delicately nibbling their bones with a knife and fork, you have my permission to attack those suckers like their meant to be eaten- in the hands.

Afterwards, since there better not be any room for dessert, have another stroll through town.  The kids from the university will be hanging out along the river sharing ice creams.  Someone may be playing music somewhere.  Don't hesitate to duck down the Werregarenstraat alley.  This is the only street in town where graffiti is legal and encourgaged.  It's quite a sight.  Those big old building blocks of the cathedrals, town hall, and belfry look particularly nice lit from below.  All the tourists will be gone now, and this is the chance to see some of the real Ghent.  You may find you have a new love.