Obstacles

Early in the morning, I said goodbye to my friends and rolled on out of Reno, Nevada, back onto I-80. I had been given a thorough road scouting report, so I knew what I was in for. Dry, unforgiving desert. I faced a steady, gentle, but relentless headwind out of the north with one redeeming quality. It cooled things down just a little bit. 

There was a roadside stop marking my first big challenge for the week: the 40-mile Desert, well into my first day out of Reno. I was warned that the cistern for public water was going to be dry. I was carrying extra water for that reason. It didn't turn out to be as critical as I had feared because not far after that point, there was a crossroad with a convenience store. I would have made it there without danger. I was still grateful for the heads-up. The plaque marking the historic site was not the most encouraging thing I've ever read. It lists the number of livestock and settlers that died crossing on their way to homestead in the west. It was dry and hot, and I don't think I chose the smartest route for my almost transcontinental crossing attempt. I started second-guessing those choices as I encountered very challenging terrain and conditions.

The colours of the terrain were quite beautiful, but unfortunately, they don't really show in the photos I took along the route. The brighter shades all seemed to wash out. I pitched camp on a bluff overlooking the highway. I was invisible until I got up in the morning to eat breakfast. The long-haul truckers at this point started recognizing me, and for the rest of the week, I got the occasional horn blast and wave from trucks coming from the other direction. 

Before the final boss challenge, I had to do two big climbs. They were hard, but not compared to the climb I'd already done up the Sierra Nevadas. The road turned in a more easterly direction before Golconda Summit, and because of that, the wind started to help me instead of holding me back. While I ate supper, I checked the map, and there was some kind of major roadside rest coming up. With the help of the wind, I figured I could get there before dark. I did with room to spare. Turns out this rest area did allow overnight camping. I talked to several of the RVers there who encouraged me to stay the night. They assured me that they would make sure that I wouldn't be disturbed. That was appreciated. 

I stopped in Carlin, Nevada, to replenish my food supplies at a small grocery store. The lady at the checkout turned out to be the mother of Olympic cycling road race silver medalist Rebecca Twigg. She also knew Steve Bauer, who won the men's silver in the same Olympics, and who happened to hail from my hometown. His dad was my English Literature teacher in high school for one year. She offered to let me camp in her yard that evening. I declined because it was early in the afternoon, and I still wanted to be in Salt Lake City that weekend. I should have had my picture taken with her, but my brain was getting a bit baked, and I didn't think of it.

The baddest obstacle was the tunnel just after Carlin, Nevada. For whatever reason, I had not noticed that on the map when I was planning my trip. I'm not sure if that would have changed my route, but it was not a welcome surprise. I'd gone through a short tunnel at the Gaviota Pass, but that was relatively easy. I waited for a break in traffic and was out the other end before anyone came to pass me. This tunnel was a long one, all the way through a mountain. Tunnels can be quite dangerous in that the change of lighting on entering can temporarily impair a driver's vision. One of the last things anyone is expecting to encounter in a tunnel is some guy on a bicycle. Inside the tunnel, the shoulder I was riding on diminished greatly. I waited for a really long break in traffic. Nothing for as far as I could see, and I took off with the closest thing I could come to a full touring load sprint. I was lucky. I was almost all the way through before someone came along to pass. I was quite relieved to be on the other side, safe and sound. Not sure if I ever want to do that again.

The Rest of this story so far(Click titles for access)

It Begins

Leaving on my first big tour. This is part one in the series. The trip begins in Pasadena, California. I head straight to the Pacific coast and then north.

Finding My Rhythm

The story continues with part two in this series. After a few rocky moment at the beginning, I settle in for the long and sometimes winding road.

Scenic Rollercoaster

Third in the series. I get to ride some of the most beautiful coastline in the USA. At times spectacular but challenging.

Through the Urban Jungle

Crossing the urban sprawl of the San Francisco bay area was quite an experience for this Canadian. It stands in contrast to the rest of my trip.

The Endless Climb

It did seem to go on forever. Riding up hill literally for days on end. Crossing the Sierra Nevada mountain range was not for the faint of heart. The downhill part was the most fun.

Weekend in Reno

Reuniting with friends and spending a very busy weekend with them. A great reprieve from the loneliness of the road.

How I Got My Hangman's Scar

A dry summer day in ranch country dawned, and I was ready to continue cycling toward home. Spent the night camping on the edge of someone's field where there was little risk of rolling over into a cowpat. In this part of the United States, I hadn't run into trouble with anyone pitching camp like that, so I was expecting a boring day.

A short while after eating my breakfast, once I'd gotten a good rhythm going with my pedals, a beat-up old pickup truck approached from behind, kicking up a cloud of dust as it went. It drove by slowly so that the local rednecks inside could get a good look at me. Long-distance bicycle tourists attract some odd attention sometimes, so I didn't think anything of it. Just gave them and their German shepherd a friendly nod of greeting.

They pulled on ahead a ways before stopping and turning the truck to block my path. This was starting to get weird. The two men got out of the truck. One of them had a rifle and ordered me to stop. I did as I was told, and they slowly approached, keeping the gun trained on me. The dog glared at me, walking a step behind his master.

“Where were you last night, boy?”

“Just riding through. I camped alongside the road for the night.”

“Last night, about ten head from my herd disappeared. You know anything about that?”

“No. I'm riding a bicycle. How could I?”

“Clyde here says he saw you last night, except you were riding a horse. Know what we do with cattle rustlers here?”

“This is crazy...”

Clyde went back to the truck to retrieve a coil of rope and, on his way back, started fashioning a noose. I was panicking and tried to slowly back away from the scene.

“Don't even think about running, boy! I won't need much of an excuse to put a bullet in you!”

I waited, shaking like a leaf. Trying to reason with them. Begging them. Clyde slipped his noose around my neck and tightened it up to the point that it was hard to breathe. They marched me off toward a nearby tree. The dog growled at me the whole time.

“This'll do just fine. Throw the rope up over that branch. He'll swing well from there.”

They were in the process of hauling me off the ground when a couple of their friends arrived and told them they had the wrong guy. The sheriff had caught the real rustlers about twenty minutes earlier. They heard the news over their two-way radio. Lucky me. They let go of the rope, and I fell to the ground. Thought I was going to be strangled to death anyway before they managed to loosen the noose up enough to get it back off of me. As I gulped in great lungfuls of air, they gave me a brief apology and wished me a safe trip. Then they just left. Rope burn on my neck there burned like the dickens for a couple of days.

This isn't really how I got that scar, but it sounds a lot more exciting than what really happened.

In reality, I got home from work one day to find that our free-range Muscovy ducks had decided to take over the chicken house. I chased all the drakes out, but Petunia the hen flew up to some old pigeon nesting boxes. When I reached for her, she panicked. Muscovies have really long claws on their webbed feet, and she scratched me but good across the neck. It was just a scratch. I still find it hard to believe it left that much of a visible scar.

In the photo, I'm trying to sneer for effect, but I look more like I've suffered some dreadful pain. We had a lot of trouble getting the lighting right for the scar, and that was the best shot in the bunch. I got tired of posing, and Francine got tired of snapping pictures.

Incidentally, I did a lot of cycling in the USA and never encountered anything like that. I found Americans, by and large, friendly and hospitable. They aren't the gun-wielding lunatics everybody keeps seeing in movies and on television.

I wrote this years ago for fun on https://picoswriting.blogspot.com/. It probably should have migrated here a long time ago. Incidentally, my scar is now faded to the point that it is very difficult to see, never mind notice.

Pico's Cycling Update

 

Just making a brief update here. We're not dead.

That being said, I am physically unable to run this as a regular webzine. I just can't produce that many articles by myself with the kind of regularity that would be required. If I had regular contributions from other writers, that would be a different story. I am updating the email address for submissions. The previous email is currently inaccessible, and I'm not sure I'll be able to recover it. The new email is myfamilycountryproducts@gmail.com. Please send only submissions and submission inquiries there.

When I get to five new articles, I will call it an issue and treat it as such. I do have a couple that will be on the way. I do have an author's blog called From Pico's Pen that is writing central for me. In the right-hand column, you will find feeds for all my current writing, including Pico's Cycling. 

That's all for now. Thanks for reading and keep on pedalling.

Crotch Guard - Product Review

By Pico Triano
Photo: Courtesy Dermatect

I was sent a free sample of this product after stumbling upon their promotion through Twitter. I was not certain at the time that it would be sent to me since I live in Canada. Their positive response to my request was most welcome. From the start, I intended to write up a review, but I wanted it to be different than the myriad positive reviews I've read.

Crotch Guard was developed for cyclists. Yes, I have on tours rubbed pretty raw down there a couple of times and I have used other products in the past to deal with the problem. We put it to the test. When I say we, I mean members of my immediate family. I'm not the most qualified for everything we wanted to test it for.

I applied the product and took it for a road test. Incidentally, it's pump spray bottle makes the product very easy to apply and as advertised it absorbs completely into the skin in very short order. Once the product had absorbed, the only indication that it was there was that it worked, no chaffing, no redness just healthy skin. There was no visible residue on my clothing during the testing period.

Derma-Tect, Inc the manufacturer makes one more claim that we are able to test. They guarantee their product to be hypoallergenic. My son Brandon is hyper-allergic. He cannot wear any big brand deodorant on the market that we are aware of, in fact, he can't take the lid off and take a deep whiff of the fragrance. It took us some real searching to find a product that he can use. He is allergic to something in soft drinks and many packaged foods. He has a prescription to carry an EpiPen, just in case.

This test we did is not in any other reviews I have seen. We were very confident in the claim though otherwise we probably wouldn't have even tried it. Brandon gave the spray a sniff test before applying the product to his skin. He had absolutely no reaction to it at all. Allergies are hard to predict but with him being able to use it successfully without complication, I'm even more confident in their claim.

By my skinflint standards, it is not inexpensive. It does everything it claims though and I wholeheartedly recommend it. If you're interested, the product can be purchased through their website. Here's the link: http://dermatect.com/

The Kid Plays Lazy Sometimes

By Pico Triano
Photo  Francine Bolduc

I don't always choose the path of least resistance and my choice of Physical Education credits in college showcased that. That's why my sophomore year I was up bright and early for Jogging & Conditioning class. The course had a reputation and there were only five of us signed up. One was taking it for non-credit and as the instructor predicted she dropped out in a pretty big hurry.

One of the first things we did as a class was a five level heart rate versus exercise intensity test. At level one I had the lowest heart rate in the class. The second level yielded the same result. On the remaining three levels though my heart rate shot up to by far the highest in the class. The instructor was baffled but kept it to himself until after we took the test again at the end of the semester. That time I was lowest in the class for the first three levels before I exploded. He told me he'd never seen anything like it in another athlete he'd worked with. Someone today who'd worked with people with my condition would have recognized that pattern. My secret would have been out. Those charts spell A-S-T-H-M-A. Keep in mind not many asthmatics were involved in sports like basketball or track thirty-five years ago.

I've never suffered an asthma attack (I hear they are frightening) and I, fortunately, don't have airborne allergies to worry about. In everyday life, it actually doesn't impact me much. I don't even normally need puffers. It will make colds and flu tougher. I am currently recuperating from a bout of pneumonia which is about as scary as it gets. Severe air pollution will also leave me feeling sluggish and tired all the time. That's part of the reason I try to avoid living in heavily populated areas. For that reason, an official diagnosis didn't happen until I was nearly forty. I've strongly suspected since the seventh grade but after being laughed off by a couple of doctors and facing the roll of a coaches eyes several times, I tended to keep my mouth shut. Where it does have a big impact is when playing competitive sports.

The test we ran in my Jogging & Conditioning class pretty much tells the whole story. There is a point where I am unable to take in enough oxygen to keep up with my rate of exercise. At that point, my performance will drop off dramatically. On the track, I might look respectable in the shorter sprints but there comes a point down the track where I will wilt. On the basketball court, I played in spurts. As long as I could get strategic rests I could keep going. If the game turned into one of those extended track meets though, the coach just might as well park me on the bench and forget me. My endurance had its strengths. If I could avoid spending too much time in the oxygen deprivation zone, I was a tough opponent. My cycling illustrates it even better. I can't win a bicycle race to save my life. The ladies will beat me. Yet I've ridden a full double metric century (200+km in a day), four consecutive century rides (100+miles in a day) which came right after a full 24 hour fast while observing the Day of Atonement. The day before the fast I also completed a century ride. Those were all done carrying full touring loads on my bike and were parts of tours. Not many people have that kind of endurance.

Smog or air pollution throws a big monkey wrench into the respiratory equation for me. The Niagara area where I grew up wasn't too bad at that time so based on my practice performances I was expecting to have a good time at the annual church youth track meet. The meet was held in Toronto at the Etobicoke Olympium right downwind from Pearson International Airport. I didn't know what hit me. I lost two feet off my long jump and at least a second and a half off my 100-metre dash. Those are the numbers I remember off the top of my head. It was the same thing in every event. Those numbers are catastrophic. I felt like a choker. I noticed a similar pattern when I showed up for college in the LA basin and took up residence in their famous smog. At home, I'd been throwing down dunks in a barn on a hoop that was a smidgen too high and featured a big metal pedestal I had to be careful not to land on. When I first practiced in the college gymnasium, I couldn't throw down a dunk.

Getting the official diagnosis all but came out of the blue. I had a stubborn chest cold and went to emergency at the Hotel Dieu in Cornwall, Ontario. When I laid eyes on the young very self-assured female doctor who came to examine me, I was not expecting to be listened to. At forty though, I didn't really give a crap what anyone thought of me either, so I told her I believed I had minor asthma. No roll of the eyes, no condescending chuckle, instead she says, “Sure, we can test you for that.”

The testing process wasn't complicated or involved and I only had to wait a short time for her to come back with the results. I'd be lying if I didn't say vindication for thirty plus years of non-diagnosis didn't feel good. “You have surprising lung capacity but you're right you are asthmatic and that completely changes how we are going to treat this.” I walked out with a puffer, a prescription and a note for my employer so that I wouldn't go back to work for a few days. Just like today while I recuperate from a much more serious bug.

So, do I have any regrets! Nah! Had I been diagnosed when I was young, it probably would have meant that some of my opportunities would have been limited. They didn't bring tanks of oxygen to the basketball sidelines in those days and I can't see any other way it could have been “worked” with. I might even have been denied the chance to play in some instances. I had to have my doctor fill out a full medical on me before I could attend college in the USA. I was a last minute acceptee when I did go. Would this have meant that someone else would have been given the chance instead of me? I'm kind of glad things worked out the way they did.

As a Canadian basketball player, I had a good run without even taking my limitations into account. I started playing organized ball in the eighth grade and played my last game in my early thirties in a USA vs Canada pick up church league game. Our opponents out of Portland, Maine were Northeastern champions. The Americans did win the game but I made sure they will always remember me. Along the way, I got playing time with my high school team as a starter sometimes and at other times coming off the bench. I went to summer camp in Orr, Minnesota and started at centre on the all-star team. I played three years of intramural ball in college representing my class. I held my own on the court. All the way I made a lot of friends. A lot of former teammates and opponents are counted as friends on my Facebook account. I can't think of too many players I wouldn't gladly reminisce with over a beer. Cheers to all of you! I had a blast.

I still have my cycling and at fifty-five I'm still in good enough health to enjoy it, except right now, but I'll recover. I'm planning to do at least a couple day trips with my youngest son this summer. We want to tour the upper and lower Tantramar river area, visit Aulac and hopefully Memramcook. First I have to recover from pneumonia and I'm expecting to take a month before I can handle any of that.

Pico's Cycling Making a Comeback

I'm excited. Pico's Cycling was born on a bit of a whim with the December 2013 issue and ran until July 2015. Even though we haven't been publishing new material in quite a long time, we still get regular views online. We're averaging better than two hundred per month. I learned a great deal creating and publishing this webzine and have learned a lot more since. It's high time it's given another go.

The vision that we started with was to promote long-distance touring and family cycling. Along the way our view that cycling is good for nearly everyone and should be for everyone shone through as well. I don't see any reason to change that.

Our next issue will be published when we have five appropriate articles ready. If I have to write them all, that could take awhile. I have a little bit of material to work with right away and through my own cycling will come up with more as the year progresses. We will continue to publish new issues when we are able to have them ready. How often that will be? I don't know.

As of now, I'm on the lookout for material for articles and for writers willing to submit articles. I will be spending some time haunting cycling forums to find interesting people to interview and cycling sites to review. If you are reading this and you have something that you think might interest me in that regard, by all means, contact me through myfamilycountryproducts@gmail.com . This email is for article leads only. If I get email there trying to sell me anything, I won't look at before deleting it.

For riders cycling across Canada, I'm in a terrific location for live interviews. To complete your transcontinental tour you will likely pass through either Sackville, New Brunswick or Shemogue, New Brunswick. I live roughly half way between those two points. They are both within cycling range for me. Better yet, I do have a car. Setting up a meeting shouldn't be difficult.

Back in 2013, we started with no budget. We did work with some affiliate advertisers but have never reached payout with any of them at this point. To date we have not seen any income. That could change though. We are adding a Youtube channel at https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCj_YFZ5fIzBs_lSQPsUKaYA . We have also added a Paypal donate button on our website. You could make a direct donation there. We are considering opening a Patreon account. There are quite a number of websites online that rely on donations for support and I don't see any reason why we shouldn't do the same.

Why do we need an income anyway? I'm glad you asked. If we started bringing in an income of just fifty dollars per month, we could offer article writers ten dollars per article. That isn't a great rate but it is more than we can offer at the current time. An income could also allow us to purchase better equipment for producing the webzine. I'd love to be able to provide the needed cash myself but I don't have it. For me, producing Pico's Cycling – Tales of the Road was never about making money and any money made would go first and foremost to improving the quality of this webzine. Being compensated for the time I put into this would be nice but I'm content to work with what I have.

What do I see for the future? I can see this getting back to the point where we are able to publish a new issue every month for a growing readership. I also think that we can produce an interesting Youtube channel to run alongside the magazine. If time and resources permit, we are hoping to make a weekly cycling news segment as well. I think the future is bright.

Take this as an invitation to join us. Take the time to browse the material already on the site here. Please like and subscribe to our new Youtube channel and tell us what you think. Follow our website via email or just put us in your favourites. We look forward to providing all our readers with quality content. In the meantime, keep on pedalling!

Pico's Cycling - Tales of the Road July 2015 Vol. 3 No. 7

Been out on my bicycle and am hoping to get a few more short tours under my belt before the summer gets to much further along. No multi day long distance runs in the immediate future. I just don't have the means or the time. Three short day runs should suffice for the time being though. Hope to have one of those ready for the next issue. My youngest son is looking forward to pedalling his bicycle somewhere with me.

Our on line cycling magazine here has been doing well. We should finish the month with another page view record. At this point I'm expecting to fall just short of 2200. I will try to refrain from talking about it all the time if this trend continues. Our Twitter following has also topped 1000 for the first time as well.

The only bad news is that Jack's laptop had some problems and he was unable to submit his article in time for this issue. He'll be missed but I'm confident he'll have one for us in August.

In This Issue
(Click titles for access)

Weekend In Reno

This is the continued story of my tour that I've been writing instalments for the last six months. I spent a terrific weekend with friends in Reno, Nevada. Great tour, great friends and great times.

Pamper Your Bottom

Another of those lessons I learned the hard way. Don't underestimate the value of a good seat. They are not all made equal. Your rear end will thank you.

Job Hunting and a Grudge

There was a time when my bicycle was my only means of transportation. Didn't restrict me at all, but try to convince a doubter isn't easy. In this case the situation was hopeless and I didn't go home very happy about it.

Cycling Scofflaws

I hear endless complaints about cyclists that either ignore the rules of the road or don't know what they are. People like this exist and I don't approve of their behaviour on the other hand...

Emergency Tire Repair

This was inspired by someone's Facebook post. Some times a patch kit isn't enough. It doesn't have to leave you stranded. The photo is a quickie job to keep the tube in the tire. I discuss how to make the repair the "right" way.

That's it for another month. The weather should be great most of the time for those of us in the northern hemisphere. Don't just read about cycling. Get on your bikes and do it. You'll be glad you did.

Pedal on!

Pico