First of all, “CJR” stands for Classic Jason Ride and was coined some years ago by my regular riding buddies as something you’d mutter under your breath when forced to once again get off your bike to carry it over an unrideable section of trail or up a flight of stairs. It wasn’t that I was seeking such treachery, but it had a way of finding me.
Hosting a ride around my birthday each year (which tended to coincide with Canadian Thankgiving weekend as well) has become a means of luring my friends, who know better, out on a ride that’s bound to be silly and unnecessary. After all, it’s my birthday wish!
We were a group of 8, if I recall correctly (writing this some months later). It was a well known number on the day of, because we learned the hard way that on these kinds of rides we must be consistently checking that we have everyone. Despite our best efforts, we often end up split, due invariably because I chose the less obvious route at every junction.
It didn’t take long until we were carrying our bikes – in fact, well before I expected, and this time not even due to my navigation. The group has become so enthusiastic that others are making poor decisions for me!
We worked our way from Trout Lake in Vancouver along the BC Parkway, which follows the skytrain line, until diverting south onto the maze of tree-lined paths in Champlain Heights. While a bit isolated, this area of Vancouver is such a treat to pass through.
The next section was a ravine which I had long meant to check out, but hadn’t yet. I knew from the elevation profile of the surrounding area that it would be steep. It’s become tradition that I include an unknown stretch of trail with a probability of being unrideable.
I was amused to discover the start was a steep and narrow staircase into the unknown brush below. Knowing the ravine was fairly long, this had the potential to be a memorably bad decision.
Remarkably, after that staircase the path was not only rideable (save a few drainage culverts) but totally lovely. The path followed along a built creek bed, and struck the perfect balance of being not overgrown yet rarely used.
A steep but brief climb out of the ravine put us back on familiar ground, riding a series of floodplain trails to the bank of the Fraser river in Fraser Foreshore park. There we stopped to refuel and share a couple lagers, and I took a minute to admire my singlespeed Wombat that was the perfect tool for the day’s job.
From the river bank, we climbed back up, this time going up Byrne Creek ravine on the east side of the creek. It begins as a stair climb, followed by pretty steep and rooty trail, then eventually relaxes to a more pleasant, dog-walk type of path.
Speaking of dogs, after this ravine is where things went well off the day’s plan. We saw a German Shepherd jogging along the grass next to the parkway in the opposite direction of us. We all thought it was curious that nobody seemed to be with it, but assumed one of the folks nearby must be its owner. Moments later, a woman on an ebike came down the path towards us, distraught and asking about a dog on the loose.
This woman wasn’t the owner but had seen the dog get hit by a vehicle and was trying to catch it. We pointed her in the right direction, and then realized we needed to help. We split up to cover more ground and I went with the eccentric and kind hearted woman. She was quick to ask every stranger about the dog which gave us enough information to keep on its path, and as luck would have it I was able to catch a glimpse of the dog down the block.
It took some time and patience to gain the dog’s trust but soon enough we had the dog, and sparing a lot of detail of continued drama regarding the SPCA and the owner, we closed that chapter of the ride and headed for a well-earned beer.
At this point, in typical CJR fashion we were well behind schedule and those with time constraints had to split off. We had also been coordinating to meet one of our group who couldn’t join due to injury, Graham, at another brewery across town and now we were hopelessly behind our estimated arrival time.
We made some significant cuts to the remainder of the route but still managed to pass through a lovely section of green space, above, on the way to the less picturesque roads that took us the balance of the distance to the brewery. Much pizza was had, as well as beer.
Having arrived at the brewery late, then staying at the brewery a little longer than usual, we departed in the dark for home, about 13km remaining. Since it was too dark to photograph I don’t have a lot of visuals from this portion of the ride, but it was on well-trodden and surprise-free terrain anyhow.
In the end it was a rather modest 52km and 611m elevation, despite being out for more than nine hours and having a full day of adventure. Despite having to cut some of my favourite parts of the route, this was a huge success and a ride I’ll remember for years to come!
This report is tangentially related to my post about the Tripleshot Crossfondo event in Victoria. Rob is one of several of my friends who have done the event, most of them twice now – I did not partake the first year, but the notoriety it had was infectious and got me out the following year.
The qualities of that event which inspired this particular ride, and a few others which Rob has been developing largely by trial and error, center around being off-pavement as much as humanly possible, and giving special preference to the cheekiest of trails. The lesser known the better. The trails don’t need to be rideable, although that’s a benefit, as long as they connect. After all, the beauty of a bike is it can be comfortably pushed or even carried.
The day started out clear but pretty cold, with ample frost where the sun hadn’t reached. Starting from downtown, we worked our way through Stanley Park’s trail network, opting to respectfully decline some trail closure signage, and then over the bridge into North Vancouver where we traced along the Capilano river trails until it was time to climb.
In my experience, every route has its seed that the rest of the route is built around. In this case, I believe the seed was a stretch of fence line that made all of Rob’s trial and error worthwhile; a joyous stretch of secretive singletrack providing views into a series of impressive backyards.
From there, we continued to climb, taking the new-ish “skyway” path at the base of Cypress up towards the forest full of the most extreme mountain biking trails that BC has to offer.
It turned out that the top section of the path was closed, so we had to detour. Nonetheless we ended up at our intended climb up Fern Trail. Essentially a FSR, Fern Trail connects with BLT, another access road used to maintain the power lines that climb up to the ski area as well as access all the steep and technical MTB trails in this area.
The grade is relentlessly steep, and recent excavator traffic had left a washboard surface that made matters worse. Sometimes walking was the best course of action.
Once we reached the power line cut block, the views highlighted how far we’d come and the reward was well appreciated. As we mustered on, the ground grew increasingly frozen. We crossed paths with some descending hikers who warned us of nearly impassable – and certainly unrideable – sections of ice to come.
Considering the two hours of daylight left, we chose to cut through the Cypress works yard to access the cabin access “road” on the other side of the main road. This section of trail is beautiful double track, as illustrated below.
While this stretch is absolutely perfect gravel riding, it comes at a significant cost: not only was climbing to reach it a true challenge, but it leads to nowhere. Well, not nowhere, exactly. It leads to hiking trails.
So we took the hiking trails. We carried our bikes over innumerable obstacles, riding only a very small percentage of the trail where we knew we would do no damage and no damage would be done to us. We walked around Blue Gentian Lake, shown below, which was covered in a thin layer of ice at this point. Note the small snow balls strewn across its surface.
We continued to walk much more than ride, even once we completed the hiking trail and reached the “FSR” we were aiming for. It turns out, the FSR was less road and more rocky, long-abandoned skidder road.
In fact, the ‘road’ was so unpleasant that once we were reasonably confident we wouldn’t get too lost, we opted to go off-trail and simply traverse the forest floor, hoping to come across an unofficial loam trail.
Eventually, we did! And it was fun – some of the most fun of the whole ride. We found a fairly chill loamer that put us back on the old logging road (see right image below – truly a skidder road!) which provided a few hoots along the way.
Eventually, we were led out of the forest, and into the mansions at the tippity-top of the affluent British Properties – just in time to catch the tail end of a lovely sunset.
In mid October 2023, I rode from home to Chemainus BC, visiting my dad, then the next day getting a lift to Victoria BC for a rather unique and challenging event. The day after the event I rode home from Victoria to Vancouver. The result was four days (three riding), about 235km, and all upon the Crust Wombat set up with a 36:20 gear ratio.
A quick intro to the event first: The name is a mouthful, and to describe the event is even more laborious. Basically, it’s a course that winds through both public trails and private lands to the north of Victoria, focused on hitting all the cool spots without much concern about difficulty. I did the shorter route, which was about 31km, and the elevation was over 800m! It was a mix of singletrack, double track, and pavement to connect it all together. I knew via friends that it was comically difficult for the distance. The biggest draw for me was the opportunity to ride through private lands that are permitted for just the day.
This rather epic weekend began with a morning ride to the Horseshoe Bay ferry terminal, which is about 26km and rolling hills. I quickly found that 36:20 was going to be a bit tedious on flat ground and descents, although was welcomed on the climbs since I was carrying a few days’ worth of ‘credit card touring’ gear.
The bag setup was as follows: Randi Jo Fab ‘Big MUT’ bags on the fork via King Anything cages, a small HMPL frame bag with my tool kit, and the Ronsbikes Fabs Fanny on the handlebar. I was able to stuff my clothing into the two MUT’s, and the Fanny had snacks, toiletries, and other personal items. Not much room to spare!
The ferry ride was mostly uneventful, but I did see whales for the first time! Unfortunately they were pretty far from the boat, but very neat nonetheless. Once in Nanaimo, I decided to make a 3km detour up the hill to Longwood Brewery, not realizing that I’d arrive almost an hour before they opened for the day. Thankfully the employee arrived only moments after me, no doubt to do a bunch of non-service tasks, but graciously served me anyhow.
I then began working my way south along the coast of Vancouver Island to get to Chemainus, about 40km south. I took every opportunity to stay off the beaten path, but unfortunately there are stretches where that’s not possible including a few miles of highway shoulder. The majority of the ride was really pleasant and the early autumn foliage made the trip especially beautiful.
Also, I had been very lucky on the weather! As you may note from the first image to the most recent, the day had been growing increasingly overcast, but no imminent threat of rain as I toodled along the countryside. Rain wasn’t even on my mind, despite mid-October being traditionally very wet around here.
I was being a bit naive, it turned out, as it started to sprinkle on me with 10km left to go. I felt like I was nearly there, just one town over, but with over half an hour of riding ahead of me there was still plenty of time to get soaked. Thankfully the rain never amounted to more than off-and-on sprinkles and I was able to spend the final daylight hours enjoying the incredible ocean-front back yard of my dad and his partners’.
After a good sleep in Chemainus, I got a lift in his truck down to Victoria to save my legs a bit for the event – as the 80km ride to my dad’s on the single speed took a bit of a toll! Plus, there wasn’t a great route to get there without getting really ambitious and remote, as the section of highway is narrow and twisty and rather unsafe to ride.
Once dropped in town, I quite literally stumbled upon a brewery after only a few blocks (Ile Sauvage) witha food truck and decided to have a sandwich and a beer. I connected with friends who were also doing the event while there, and spent the remainder of the evening exploring the wonderful bike infrastructure in Victoria as well as having some more food and beer. We eventually made our way back to the AirBnB, a small old house that had equal parts charm and weirdness, for some final decompression before struggling to fall asleep.
I rode over to the event at sunrise, around 7:15am, treated to a beautiful riverside trail most of the 8km and a lovely sunrise. The weather continued to deliver!
I took a single photo during the event, too busy either socializing with fellow riders or pushing myself to maintain a good finishing time, which is shown above. The singletrack was at times quite technical, and no fewer than four riders went over their bars in front of me! I managed to finish without incident, and despite the steep and unrelenting hills, I never really wished for gears over the single speed: while it was the wrong gear sometimes, not having to worry about shifting or damaging the derailleur was a huge plus on course. And besides, when the going got steep, we were all walking anyhow.
After the event, the seven of us headed back to the AirBnB and celebrated our accomplishments with more beer and some delicious Thai takeout. House parties always become kitchen parties.
Despite having an ambitious ride the following day to get home, I imbibed enough to have a mild hangover the next morning. Thankfully only minor, and it didn’t stop me from enjoying the beautiful trail network from downtown Victoria up to Swartz Bay.
I mean, just look at it! This is the Lochside trail, and it is glorious. It took me well out of town, sometimes using low-traffic roads, but often a rail-grade and fully independent trail. Just a joyous way to travel.
I ended up at the ferry in blue skies, boarded, and was surprised as heck to climb out onto the open deck of the ferry to discover a storm cloud had snuck in and started pouring rain.
Up until this point the weather had been gorgeous, but I knew that the mainland was experiencing much wetter weather, so while the first 32km of my ride had been lovely, the next 60km were going to be interesting. Below are two photos from the Tsawwassen spit, where I was right on the cusp of the clear weather to the north and the dark and stormy front pushing in from the south.
I had two options to get across Delta: ride farm roads without shoulder and light to moderate traffic, or take the Boundary Bay dyke. The latter is much more beautiful and is completely car free, but also offers no shelter and is longer. I decide for the dyke anyway, taking my chances with the thunderstorm brewing nearby.
As the rain became coarse and heavy and the skies darkened, I realized I had maybe made a mistake. I booked it as quickly as I could to a small building a few kilometres away; it offered little in the way of shelter but at least I could press myself against the wall opposite the wind and be more protected than I was when out in the open. This seemed like a good a time as any to open the beer that my pal Ashley had sent me off with, since I might be hunkered down for a while until the storm passed.
Luck was on my side after all, and the storm stayed east enough that I only saw the edge of it. As I rode eastward once the rain stopped, the flooding made clear that things were a lot worse not far from where I had stopped. I opted to detour off the gravel dyke onto quiet farm roads in order to avoid riding into the storm.
My route north was a little-used double track along the Delta bog that is notoriously flooded. I knew that today of all days, with the recent storm, was bound to result in flooding. At this point I had been rained on pretty heavily, I was quite wet, and the temperature wasn’t so cold that getting even wetter feet was too big of a concern. After all, I’d be home in another two hours or so.
Sure enough, the flooding was impressive. Several hundred feet at a time were submerged in 4 to 8 inches of water. Using small pedal kicks to avoid dunking my feet at the bottom of the pedal stroke, I was able to get through this stretch without my feet getting too wet. Now that I was through the section that has been flooded for me before, I thought I was clear.
I was wrong!
This trail follows alongside a creek, whose water level had risen to the point that the two became one. Now, the area I was in was along a very large bog, and I really had no nearby alternatives to my knowledge so I pushed on, desperate to make it across. It became abundantly clear that this was not going to work unless I wanted to walk in knee-deep water for who knows how long.
Checking maps, I just needed to figure out how to get from the trail I was on to the overpass I had ridden under just a kilometer or so back. I backtracked, and started to explore the woods near the road to find a way. The road was in sight, but a steep and large gully separated me from the road, thick with thorny brambles.
I came across some old foundations in the woods; a creepy sight given the fact I hadn’t seen another human in quite some time. I eventually found a double track that led me towards the road; my efforts thwarted by a 6 foot fence.
I did climb over the fence, and I wish I took a photo of the process but I was in a rather panicked state of mind: I managed to hoist my bike up onto the top of the fence, where it got hooked by the pedal, and I was pretty sure I couldn’t remove it at that point if I tried from the side I was on – so getting over the fence was no longer optional. Yet I am not as spry as I once was, and it took me quite a few attempts to get up on top of the fence: and every time, my clothing was getting hooked.
A large black pickup pulled over where I was making this scaling attempt and the guy in the truck was making a phone call – I was sure he was calling the police on me. I continued to struggle over the fence, with little other choice at this point, and managed to eventually lower myself down the other side without ruining my jacket and pulled my bike off the fence. I had full intention of going up to the truck to explain my predicament, but he didn’t seem interested, and I warmed to the idea he was actually just making a call and my presence was pure coincidence.
Scooting up the overpass, I hopped onto a parallel trail that I spotted on maps (but couldn’t figure out how to get to) which turned out to be an overall better trail, even if flooding wasn’t a factor! Not only was it up the hill and safe from flooding, but it had a much better trail surface as well. I was able to continue up to the north end of Delta and took a cheeky little trail down across the railroad tracks to get back to my intended route.
The weather had improved at this point as well, and while the daylight hours were winding down, the sun was very welcome. At this point I was starting to need a more substantial calorie boost, and an on-route A&W came to the rescue. I was wet and muddy, and no doubt a strange sight.
After A&W, I cross the Fraser River to the BC Parkway, a bike route that I ride often enough that I basically felt home, even with 15km left to go. I took less photos at this point as I focused on just getting home; the sunset was enjoyable and then the dark riding was on familiar terrain which offered comfort.
Eventually, I was home and able to warm up via a long shower. It was an absolute success by every measure that mattered to me: I had a fun and safe race, and I had a true adventure getting to and from the event. All in one gear!
The Burnabop XL route came about after the stoke of putting together the original Burnabop route. Burnabop is a 42km “666m” (actually more like 800m) elevation route around Burnaby’s lesser known trails and cheeky pathways that I had shared with Max of Love Machine Cycling to get the word out to like-minded adventurers. The standard Burnabop is pretty challenging as it is, but I wanted to put an XL version out that strung together all the good stuff from the original with all my other favourite spots in and near Burnaby. The result is about 73km and 1125m elevation; a proper challenge that I hope can build some notoriety. Plan to spend anywhere from 5 to 7 hours on course; it’s not a quick 73k.
The course can be broken down into two distinct loops; north and south. Both are intended to be ridden clockwise, though can be ridden either direction. If you’re pressed for time you can certainly ride either loop on its own, but it’s ideally enjoyed as presented. Please yield to those you encounter on the trails and be friendly; these are their hidden gem trails as well.
The route starts out by tracing along the northern edge of Burnaby via Trans Canada Trail and then to Velodrome and Barnet trails on the north face of Burnaby Mountain. These shaded slopes offer views to the north, punchy climbs, but smooth gravel surfaces.
The most brutal climb of the ride comes early, around the 12km mark, and is not one I would even consider trying to ride – but you do you. The trail then descends along the power lines before working its way upwards now along the south face of Burnaby Mountain. The trail then turns to switchbacks, a popular MTB climb trail to access the local network.
Once the service road between lower and upper Sidewinder is reached, the route cheekily crosses the main road and down some trails where local kids have built some sweet jumps. The route noodles down to Stoney Creek trail then onto the popular gravel route around the south side of Burnaby Lake.
The route then crosses to the south side of Hwy 1, towards one of the most beautiful stretches of the course. Starting with a lovely paved path that follows near the highway, then a short but steep climb up to power lines, followed by a gravel descent into Robert Burnaby park. Exiting Robert Burnaby by the popular disc golf course and down the dead-end Elwell St is where the absolute gem of a natural area, George Derby, begins. The trail is narrow and rooty in areas, but totally manageable on a gravel bike. The climbs are tough, but so beautiful that walking and taking in the views is recommended anyway. Watch out for a staircase on the descent between the two ravine climbs.
Exiting the urban wilderness of George Derby, a short bomb down Cariboo Rd takes us to what is perhaps the best 1.3km of nearly secret single track along the old Interurban rail grade, linking up to North Rd. Take note, this is also probably the easiest turn to miss of the whole route! Coming down Cariboo, when you see a small pull-out area (shown below), hop onto the sidewalk and keep an eye out – the trail is about 10 metres further down and cuts back at an angle that makes it hard to spot.
This stretch is probably my favourite of the whole course; it’s rail grade so nearly flat, yet narrow and rooty enough to keep you occupied. And the foliage! At some point the trail passes under powerlines and it’s easy to forget that you’re in a suburban area. I mean, just look at this! Of course, autumn cannot be beat for beauty in these largely deciduous groves.
The route then works its way to Braid St via a popular trail connection through Hume Park, then follows the bike-friendly roads to the next ravine: Glenbrook! This climbs up to the 7th Ave bike route that traverses upper New West – not a particularly noteworthy stretch, but a quiet and fairly pleasant bike route that is less popular than most.
This bike route links up to BC Parkway, but the route then drops down a steep hillside into Fraser Foreshore area of south Burnaby. This feels like another world in many ways, going from steep ravines to flood plane.
From the shores of the Fraser, the route then points inland by following Byrne Creek, over the train tracks (kinda sketchy!) and into a steep ravine that starts with a stair climb.
The more popular Byrne Creek trail is on the west side of the creek, while this east side trail is narrower, more technical, and at the top of a very steep embankment – resulting in some fairly exposed feeling sections. Towards the north end it opens up into a mysterious woodland courtyard with stonework walls and mature trees. Spooky at night!
The conclusion of the south loop involves following mixed-use paths towards Deer Lake, with a one-block detour to a ravine trail nestled in Buckingham Park. Notably the route passes through Edmonds Park, home of perhaps the best waterpark in the city as well as a good washroom stop.
The last blocks of the route are northbound at the north end of Boundary Rd, with the assumption that it’s probably either sunset or dark at this point in your ride – the western views of the city (and sunset, perhaps) from these blocks are phenomenal and hopefully a poignant end to a memorable ride.
The Wombat, as you may already know, is the signature frame of Garrett at Crust. It’s the kind of bike that only exists when someone is allowed full creative control to bring their passion project to life: a totally unique bike that doesn’t really align with anything on the market already.
What makes it unique? So, it’s a singlespeed ATB at heart but the influences run wide: it’s a little bit klunker and BMX, but it also has internal dynamo and dropper routing pulled from modern MTB and touring bikes. The fork blades angle forward, which combined with the BMX-style dropout plates provides a mid-trail geometry despite the 69 degree HTA (nice). And it’s 650B with room for big modern knobbies, yet the high BB allows for smaller tires if you wanted to stick to pavement and skate parks.
Wombat as of July 2023
My first impressions when I built it in early 2023 were all positive. Most surprising was that it was fast, even on pavement. I attribute a lot of this to the minimalist (aka lightweight) build and fast-rolling Rene Herse knobbies. I went with a 2:1 ratio which turned out to be a pretty optimal compromise for the mostly-road, sometimes-trail, and never-rushed riding I use this bike for.
Despite really enjoying the bike, I bucked it back down to a frameset and put it up for sale because I had bought back a commuter bike (the Riv Charlie) and was finding that while fun, the Wombat was less practical for my needs: it didn’t carry much, it was missing various practical accessories like fenders and dynamo.. and adding those things would just make it another one of the same bike in my collection anyhow.
The Wombat’s initial build, February 2023
Fast forward a few months and I’ve built it back up, invested a little more in it, and it’s probably my favourite bike at the moment. So what changed? Well, I found that even with the Charlie I chose the Brompton for commuting because of its practicality despite being less comfortable, and as summer rolled in I realized the Wombat is a great summer bike, something refreshingly different from my heavy, full-featured bikes, and just plain fun.
Once I fully embraced it, and spent a little more time on it, the Wombat kept making more and more sense to me. The thing about a strange, category-escaping bike like this is that you can’t just sub it into your quiver based on preconceptions; you need to ride it with an open mind and let it find its place organically. So while it was fun from the start, I’ve now reached a deeper appreciation for the Wombat and even if I had to halve my bike quiver, it would remain in my possession. Pretty ironic since I nearly sold it.
Being able to carry a little more stuff thanks to the addition of a (questionably installed) Nitto M-1 rack was the necessary bit of practicality to make this a go-to bike for me. The Fab’s Fanny (shown above) was close enough to the tire that they’d make regular contact, which I initially alleviated with a HMPL Double Buddy bag – but the rack allowed me to use the same small Chest that I shared with the Rivendells and could be packed with a couple four-packs and a change of clothes.
The Rene Herse Umtanum tires on it were originally for the Bombadil, but they truly found their best life on this bike: fast rolling and predictable on pavement yet very grippy on dirt, they are a perfect match for what the Wombat can do. I still have a lot more clearance available to run bigger, knobbier tires but little reason to do so.
When autumn weather sets in, I’ll probably be tempted to put fenders and dynamo on this bike, but I hope that I can resist: the magic of this bike is partially rooted in its simplicity and those would simple erode at this.
It should be noted, I live in a hilly place. I ride this in the mountains. A single speed seemed like a bad idea to me too. I’m not a particularly strong rider either. If you’ve tried riding your geared bike in one gear, and came to the quick realization you can’t do single speed – you may be surprised. I have tried that and came to the same conclusion, but it’s not comparable to riding an actual single speed. Once the option is physically removed, two things happen: you appreciate the simplicity of it, and you put it out of your mind to some extent (though old habits die hard, and you might find yourself thumbing for a shifter that isn’t there). You’ll stand and pedal a bit more. You’ll take it a bit easier so you don’t blow up. You might walk some stuff you’d otherwise have rode. But you’ll have fun – maybe more fun than you would have. Quite possibly, honestly.
December 2023 Update:
I put gears on last month for a specific ride that involved a ton of brutal climbing and a mix of pavement and technical trail. I used the Problem Solvers tensioner with integrated hanger to do it. It gets in the way of the smallest cog, so it’s a 13-42T 10-speed cassette currently with the limit screw removing the bottom gear. I don’t plan to leave it geared, but I also kinda like it this way. Still looks good! As of today it has about 1200km on it, and has been on some epic rides. Love it as much as ever!
The above photo is June 2024; I put gears back on for this ride but took them back off after because a) I bent the Problem Solvers hanger and b) I think that the magic of this bike is somewhat dulled by gears to be honest. It’s a simple-fun kind of bike. This particular ride had over 1100m of elevation over 50 km so the gears were pretty darn welcome though.
Jan 2025 Update
I’m pleased to say I have not put the gears back on since the above updates, even though I’ve done some similarly ambitious climbing routes. I’ve ridden it 90km each way to a CX ‘fondo’ race, I’ve climbed Cypress again. It’s become my go-to bike for just having a good time.
I had the opportunity, fortunate timing, and reckless spending habit to purchase my size from the V1 prototype samples of the upcoming road-ish bike with ‘swoop tube’ technology from Rivendell dubbed the Charlie H Gallop. Each size was painted a different colour, and the 54cm that fit me best happened to be silver, which was exactly the colour I wanted.
The state of the build at the time of writing this (May 1, 2022)
The bike came as a complete for $1800 with a mix of parts that largely aligned with what I wanted to set it up with, and the differences were easily accommodated with help from my parts bin.
The reason I wanted this bike, and the reason I wanted silver too, was to build a low-key everyday bike that was suited to my 16km each way commute as well as keeping up with quick friends on around-town rides to parks, breweries, and the like.
As-delivered build spec (Feb 10, 2022)
To this end, the sporty tubing (I use that term in the context of Rivendells..) combined with the long, comfortable geometry seemed optimal for the swift-but-supremely-comfortable bike I wanted. I went on the larger size for my stature because I knew the extra top tube length would be needed for me to comfortably run sweepy bars. I haven’t checked too carefully, but I believe this frame has about a 580mm ETT and 500mm chainstays. I believe the HT/ST angles are 71 / 71.5, and the BB drop is a generous 80mm.
Let’s get this out of the way now: this prototype has canti studs, but the production plan is to run side-pull caliper brakes. I seem to be far from alone in thinking this is a mistake, and it’s partially why I had to jump at the chance to buy this prototype. This is my all-weather, year-round commuter and Vancouver is pretty well known for its rain! Perhaps it’s not too late to petition Rivendell to go with canti-stud brakes.
Enough about why I bought it, time to talk about whether my hopes for this bike played out!
I first rode it as it came as a baseline, though I was fully aware the reach with the 46cm Noodles it came stock with would be a bit too much for me. I would be insincere if I gave much feedback about how it rode with drops, because I only rode about 8km like this. As a placeholder, I installed my Nitto Wavie bar with a 9cm Technomic stem so I could outfit the bike with the black Paul Motolites and Love Levers I had set aside for the build. It rode nice enough. Then I put an Albatross bar on it with 11cm Tallux stem, and suddenly the bike came alive – the bike just feels right with this bar for me.
So this bike is expected to be a few things: comfortable, safe, but also zippy and road-ish in its manners. It’s clearly the progression of Grant’s idea of what a road bike could be if we avoid the influence of competitive cycling.
Rivendell is carrying the torch of modern-made but timeless-inspired steel bikes, with almost 30 years of geometry progression that has occurred with almost no influence from popular trends. It’s one person’s evolved belief in what the bicycle should be after over decades of focus based on personal experience rather than market projections. It’s a bit like observing a species of animal that evolved in completely different conditions than what we typically observe.
I’m totally smitten by this evolution as is already clear, just as many other are. That said, Grant is one individual, not some deity, and the fact he’s making bikes the way he wants instead of the way the market dictates shouldn’t be as rare as it is – but welcome to capitalism, I suppose.
Okay, so – is it comfortable? Yes, of course it is, how could a bike with 50cm chainstays not be. Interestingly, I don’t find it quite as smooth riding as my Hillborne (with paltry 455mm chainstays), but I chalk this up to the tires. The Charlie has Soma Shikoro 700x42mm tires, while the Hillborne has Rene Herse Babyshoe standards – the latter are notably more comfortable. The latter are also more susceptible to flats, but I haven’t had many flats on any tire.
What surprised me about the Charlie is that despite fairly stout tubing (ranging from 1.1 to 0.8mm thickness throughout the frame, as far as I know), it has quite a lot of flex! I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised given the length of the frame and the standard diameter top tube (albeit squished to 22.2 x 28.6 oval). It has a subtle but enjoyable spring while pedaling, but if you put some weight both front and rear (ie, when I have one pannier with my work laptop and stuff on the rear rack, and a couple 4-packs of beer in the front basket), the frame flex becomes very pronounced. It is almost as if there is a flexible joint between the front and rear halves of the frame. In a way it’s kind of fun, but it’s not optimal. This bike is not made to carry more than a light load and it shows. The single pannier on the rear causes an imbalance side to side that a stiff aluminum frame wouldn’t notice, but the Charlie H Gallop notices. Don’t buy the Charlie H Gallop for touring. It will ride like a wet noodle in that scenario.
The handling is very typical Rivendell these days: the steering feel is light, but yet the bike tracks straight very easily and is totally stable at any speed. They tend to carve turns. Grant pays attention to ensuring a consistent trail across his bikes and each size within so that this steering feel is always there.
So it’s comfortable and stable. Is it quick? Well, it’s not a sprinting bike. The geometry is pretty relaxed, as is the fit. The bike puts your weight squarely between the wheels, which provides the comfort and stability Rivendells are known for. The built-in flex feels good for a certain level of output; beyond that and you probably want something “higher performance”. That said, it glides up to speed quite effortlessly. The bike feels like its working with you when you push a bit harder on the pedals.
My first 700km has been on a variety of surfaces, but mostly paved and hardpack trails. I would say the limitation is going to be the tires, not the frameset, when it comes to what the bike can tackle. The Charlie will ride sure-footed on just about anything outside of steep technical descents.
Okay, let’s get negative for a change. What would I change if I could? To be honest, not a lot, but I do wish it was 650B in my size. If it were up to me, the largest sizes would be 700c but the middle sizes would be 650B. The smallest size or two might even be 26″. I find the 700x42mm tires to be a little too yacht-like for me, and will try a lighter set of 700×38 once I wear these out. The rotating interia of a 650×42-48 tire just feels right, in my opinion, and would give this bike a bit more of a sporty personality. Also, if I didn’t have canti studs, I’d be mad about it. I know it’s a road-ish bike, but let’s separate it a little bit from the Roadini and allow cantilever brakes or mini-V’s, both of which work with typical road levers and therefore should be a non-issue.
The Charlie H Gallop is marketed as a road bike, which appears to be an evolution from the Roadini. Its longer chainstays, more ample tire clearance, and swoopy top tube are all indicative of where Rivendell is headed, breaking barriers between sporty and stable. Despite this, what I see it as is a lightweight alternative to the Clem for those who want an everyday bike that don’t need to carry a lot. This is what I bought it for, and it’s why I think my size should be 650B, and they should keep the canti studs. Maybe this isn’t what was envisioned for the Charlie H Gallop, and maybe I’m just projecting based on what I want to see out of Rivendell (an every-person’s bike that’s more sporty than the Clem Smith, but still immensely versatile), but it’s what the bike is to me.
I told the folks at Rivendell if they ever sold the silver Charlie prototype, I would love to buy it. The Charlie evolved into caliper brakes, which I wasn’t interested in, so this was quite literally the only Charlie H Gallop frame I was interested in. I also loved that it was silver, because that played perfectly into my plans for the bike: an ordinary looking commuter bike that rode like a dream and had an “if you know, you know” vibe about it.
Well, about 18 months after I sowed that seed, I got my opportunity – they decided to sell the v1 prototypes when the v2’s arrived, and they called me to offer me the bike!
However, I missed that phone call. And I missed that they had called altogether.
A few days later they listed it on the “garage sale” section of their web store and a blessed stranger on Instagram DM’d me to tell me it was on the site. I didn’t even get this message for about two hours – but when I frantically navigated to the web shop, there it was, still available. I think I stared for less than two seconds before clicking ‘add to cart’ and calmly but quickly checking out to make sure I didn’t lose out.
A few minutes later, Will’s email update went out – and mention that it sold while he typed the description for this bike was included. If that email had gone out before I bought, well, I wouldn’t have had the chance to buy it. Serendipitous if you ask me!
It came “as is, where is” with a build that wasn’t exactly what I had planned, but had a lot of very good parts. It had the saddle I would have bought for it anyway, already included. It had the right length crank arms. The tires are basically ideal for my purposes. I swapped some parts from my Bridgestone and parts bin, and I was almost where I wanted to be already.
It’ll evolve a bit more before finding its final form, but I’m pretty darn confident that when it gets there, it’ll be a bike I don’t fuss with often. And hopefully, it’ll be a bike I ride a lot. I plan to commute 100+ days a year on this bike, 32km each day. That will add up!
In summer of 2022 I bought a Brompton, which served perfectly as a commuter especially since I could either ride the whole way, or take the train part way to work. It largely overlapped with the Charlie, and the Hillborne overlapped on the other end of the spectrum. So in November 2022, I sold the frameset with select parts to a friend.
In April 2023, I bought it back, having realized my mistake (and changing jobs that resulted in a long, hilly commute without a train option). I built it back up similar to before, but with a few differences – and I think it’s better than ever!
Comically, I once again sold it in July 2023, this time to someone in Oakland CA. The reason for the (second) sale was because ultimately the Crust Wombat won the battle for the final available spot in my quiver.
My 700km review of the Charlie can be found here. In the end I had put just over 1500km on it, and certainly loved every bit of it. If I had the space I’d have kept it, but alas.
Most owners of the clearcoat-over-raw Bombadils have long since repainted their rides, spooked at the first indication of surface rust from the coating’s lackluster corrosion resistance.
I came to own my Bombadil after it had lived a decade in the PNW, and honestly, the corrosion situation didn’t seem too bad. However, the somewhat yellowed tint of the clearcoat didn’t really spark joy, and I knew that if this was going to be a lifetime bike, I should start anew with a fresh coat of paint sooner than later. That’s more time for me to add my own beausage to the new paint, after all!
The frame spent a couple months with Chris Dekerf, and no corners were cut. The result was a stiff bill but a beautiful frame. In addition to the new paint, I redecorated the bike with a host of new parts such as a nine-speed, friction shifted drivetrain and big Rene Herse knobbies under Velo Orange fenders.
The new green paint really blends into the landscapes its most at home in
I expect that most people take a spin around the block as a shakedown ride, but my first ride on this bike back when I got it was an ambitious 50km mountainous singletrack ride, so I felt compelled to at least get out into the woods so long as the bike felt more or less operational.
And more or less, it was. The initial brake installation left a lot to be desired, and even touching the rear brake was embarrassingly loud. Turns out I had the pads in backwards (don’t worry – not cartridge!) so that probably didn’t help. I have a list of other things I need to fix.. but the bike propels.
I chose to venture into the Seymour valley where this bike often calls home. I should note that we had a big dump of snow a couples weeks ago but temperatures have been well above freezing lately, and the snow is gone around town. I crossed the bridge into North Vancouver and climbed up residential streets to a trail network I knew would be good for photos, which is where the photo above was taken. No snow to be seen, and this was higher elevation than where I was headed, so I was good!
Narrator: He was not.
Near the bottom of the singletrack descent to Fisherman’s trail
To my surprise, when I popped out of this completely snow-free trail, I was met with a packed snow and ice concoction blanketing the main trail. The lack of tree cover plus the packing of snow from this trail’s higher use meant that it stuck around during the recent rains, and those rains only served to encrust this snow and make it hard to walk on, let alone ride.
Stubbornly, I continued on with a mix of careful riding and walking as necessary. I made my way down Fisherman’s for a bit, even though my Strava had quit at this point so it didn’t even count!
I didn’t make it very far though, and instead climbed up a connector to the hill on the other side of this valley to visit a friend. Thankfully, once out of the valley, the snow relented.
Well – mostly.
It went back and forth.
I then was out on roads again, and any trace of snow disappeared. I didn’t take any photos of those roads because they weren’t interesting. As soon as I got back onto a trail though, I took the following shot. This trail took me down near the bridge which brought me back to my neighbourhood.
A buddy’s dad, who worked at construction sites, had a handful of abandoned bikes that he took home from a site because he didn’t want to see them go to scrap.
So we did what any reasonable person would do. We cut them apart, found unique and ridiculous ways to weld them together using an oxy-acetylene torch, coat hangers, and absolutely no welding experience whatsoever.
I came up with the concept and basically cut apart bikes and tried fitting tubes together until it made sense. Once it it was together, it took me more time to work up the courage to actually mount it than I expected. But it worked!
I was going to college at the time so I brought it to campus. Once I’d shown off my silly creation to my peers, I just left it un-locked at the bike rack. Each day I’d ride it a little bit and leave it somewhere else on campus. It moved around from other people trying it. This went on for probably a month, but one day I found it in the bike rack like below – it finally broke.
So as you may have noticed from my bike history page, mountain bikes were front and center when it came to my interest in bikes basically from my teenage years through to my thirties, when I started to diversify a little – but MTB remains an important thing to me.
For all of my twenties, basically, I was a hardtail diehard. Then, in 2010 or 2011 I tried a buddy’s full-suspension Banshee and was immediately sold. I went through a few bikes but the Knolly was the first “dream build”, made possible by a very generous bonus at work that year. The frame I found used, and the build centered around the just-released SRAM XX1 drivetrain, which was the first 1×11 to market – kind of wild to think now, but this was a brand new concept at the time and only available as a top-end spec.
The bike was built by Matt at North Shore Bike Shop, after hours while I sat and watched drinking beer (I had brought him a 6-pack not realizing he doesn’t drink). My first ride on the bike was Ladies Only on Fromme, and the bike performed admirably – this is a pretty hectic trail to ride on an unfamiliar bike (at least at my moderate skill level) but it felt comfortable straight away.
This bike consolidated my MTB quiver to one, from previously owning a Bandit 29er and a TR250 park / shuttle bike. It survived many Whistler bike park trips, slabs of Squamish, and many north shore days both pedaling up and shuttling.
Notably it also carried me through a three-day bike-packing trip in the South Chilcotin mountain range, fittingly its namesake. I rode this with one buddy, and the fact that this is grizzly country never left our minds for a moment. We were fortunate (unfortunate?) to see a group of grizzlies hunting marmots on the final ascent to Windy Pass – which meant we didn’t spend a lot of time on the summit. Too bad too, because it was the most picturesque point of the whole trip.
