Going back to the mid 2000’s, I was really only into mountain biking and biketrials. Mountain biking had been a part of my life from childhood, while biketrials was something I picked up in my early 20’s. Riding on pavement was never something I was interested in – it was a means to an end only.
Then I test rode a Giant Bowery singlespeed road bike and was blown away by the pure speed. That test ride changed my perspective entirely. However, it wasn’t until this bike, my Soma Rush, that I really felt a deeper connection to a pavement-oriented bike.
Even brakeless, I rode this bike all over the place. This was a time before strava but I’d love to see my mileage and heatmap from these days – I lived in Pitt Meadows at the time but rode this bike all over Vancouver, North Vancouver, New West, and beyond – including a number of 100+ km days in preparation for the 2009 Ride to Conquer Cancer which yes, I rode on this bike.
The fact I rode that 230km event on a fixed gear with 49-17 gearing is a bit baffling in retrospect – the weather was absolutely terrible, I remember that, but otherwise I had no concerns about the bike or my fitness. Weird!
This was a Craigslist score for $1200 in 2013. The previous owner did a great job with the build, and I’m afraid all my changes over the two years or so that I owned it only drew it away from the balance it had, which is likely why I sold it. Below is mostly as-purchased form but all the racks and panniers were my additions.
The above was a test fit for a tour that is depicted perfectly in the following photo – the farmer’s market on Mayne Island.
I wasn’t convinced about the moustache bars at the time, and tried drops .. and they didn’t spark joy either. Then I fitted some Jones loop bars which were pretty good, but never really felt like things were exactly right.
My second custom build from Dream Cycle, five years after my Salsa Vaya build. In the couple years prior I bounced between 700c (the Vaya, a Surly Ogre) and 26″ (Surly LHT) and finally landed on the goldilocks 650B wheel size, which, in retrospect, is pretty obviously the optimal size for my stature. I wish I realized about three bikes ago.
Days after bringing it home, Feb 2016
This was a bit of a higher end build than my Salsa Vaya spec, essentially my dream build at the time – a Campy Athena groupset, Compass Babyshoe tires, White Industries hubs, and so on. Sadly I wasn’t enlightened enough to go dynamo at the time, but that upgrade came later.
This bike brought me a lot of places, above is at Persephone brewing on a credit card style tour to visit my mom. It was a good bike, I liked it a lot but never quite felt fully satisfied with it either. All these parts were transferred to a Sam Hillborne frameset and that’s when the magic happened for me.
Of all the bikes I’ve owned, this is the one I’ve had the longest at this point: about 12 years and counting. I bought it off a friend for $100 and it was completely stock. It was 2009 and I was immersed in the teachings of Sheldon Brown, which led me to spend more on this modest base than I might otherwise have.
The most annoying thing about a stock Twenty is the friction of the headset, which uses a plastic bushing in place of bearings on the upper race, to facilitate the folding mechanism. Pretty cool tech for 1969, but not ideal. Me being me, I decided to address this by having a new steerer welded into the original fork, and fitted a 1″ threadless Chris King headset to the frame. This eliminated the folding function but it steered smooth as butter with a headset that can last a lifetime.
Well heck, if I’m in this far, I might as well upgrade the cotter-pin crankset; the bottom bracket is unfortunately non-standard and the only drop-in replacement was the pricey (but unparalleled in quality) Phil Wood. These two modifications were the catalyst for a full rebuild with little regard for the purchase price (and typical value) of the bike.
The result is above – at the time I was in college and this was a pretty optimal means of transportation. The wheelset was an oddball find in the QBP catalog at the time; a 406 wheelset with alloy rims, 32h, and a SS rear hub which I fitted with a White Industries freewheel cog.
As I built up other “nice” bikes, a few choice parts were stripped off this modest bike, such as the Thompson stem and Brooks saddle. Nonetheless it remained a staple in my collection through the 2010’s, even though there were years it was barely used. Even with a lot of the visibly expensive parts removed, the bike remained too high an investment to part with. Plus, how cool is it!
Fast-forward to 2020, and for the first time in a decade I made a second large capital investment into the bike: a new wheelset, consisting of a pair of Sturmey Archer hubs (drum brake all around, dynamo front, and 5spd rear). This breathed new life into the bike as an extremely practical all-weather bike that could still be locked up downtown for hours at a time without too much concern it’ll draw attention.
December 2023 Update: Last week I put 80km on the Twenty; one commute (about 28km round trip), some errands, and also taking me to my work holiday party (44km round trip with a 4.5 hour lockup on the street). I’ve swapped the bars to some hand-me-downs from my partner’s Raleigh e-bike as she upgraded to Jones bars, and put some Ergons on that I had in my bin.
Oh, also I have switched the tires to Marathon ‘GT365’ which are not studded but have winter tire siping and a pretty aggressive tread. They are still pretty quiet, so I might run them year-round!
This was my first full custom, shop-built bike that wasn’t a mountain or trials bike. It was built in 2011 by Dream Cycle, and if I had just realized that I could do 650B on this bike, I might have kept it a lot longer (I sold it in 2013 or 2014).
I never did any long-distance touring, but as you can see above, it saw some great loaded tours of the Gulf Islands and Vancouver Island.
In 2012 I did the Ride to Conquer Cancer for the second time on this bike; the first time was in 2009 on my fixed gear Soma Rush. Despite the fact the ride was fully supported I chose to carry my own gear, I suppose because I was such a biketouring keener?
I started doing tricks on my 20″ Kuwahara around the age of eight, taking jumps, riding no hands, standing on the saddle, etc. My parents upgraded me to a Trek Antelope which I took my skills to the next level as I learned to wheelie for long stretches at a time. I also started doing XC mountain bike races at this point, and quickly I was pushing the mid-level bike past its limits – plus, suspension was improving rapidly and all the other folks at the start line had better shocks than my three year old Trek.
My dad, always happy to enable this kind of sport, arranged an incredible build of a Norco Team prototype that was left over from the elite racers, with a really interesting downtube that had external ribs that ran the length of the tube. It was kitted with the best of everything, full compliment of Syncros and XTR and a really cool early Marzocchi fork. Sadly, it was swiped from the back of my dad’s truck only a few months later, and my time with it was both short and exclusively winter.
Feeling some guilt I’m sure from the complacency of leaving it in the back of the truck even in our rural driveway, my dad purchased a Marin Team Titanium for me, also with a pretty high end build. It was a 19″ frame when I wanted a 17.5″, but that didn’t stop me from riding the absolute heck out of this bike for ten years – ten of the most influential, memorable, and transformative years between me and cycling.
When I got this, riding bikes was my life. I rode to school most days, despite my commute being down (and then back up) a mountainside. I rode basically every day after school, and explored my local trails (Burke Mountain) every weekend. I knew those forests like the back of my hand. I raced the full XC circuit, working my way up to expert class, and I honed my technical skills with log rides, wheelies, and even learned to hop on the back wheel and do trials pedal kicks from rock to rock. I wore out several sets of tires, and broke most of the components at one point or another, until very little of the bike was original.
One of the most memorable times on this bike was a tour of the southern Gulf islands, organized by a teacher at my school who headed the Outdoors Club, which was essentially a cycling club, and I cannot overstate how important this club was to my life as a high-schooler.
My second Rivendell was purchased only two months after my first – during the holiday break in December 2019, Rivendell put the 45cm Clem H on web special of $750. At the time, I was riding an old Nishiki MTB as my around-town bike and it was fine, but a Clem Smith Jr would be the ultimate for this utility job – and all the little upgrades I’d made on the Nishiki would swap right over!
It’s initial build carried over from a Nishiki Barbarian
I made a small handful of upgrades over the next year, but ultimately sold it about a year later, after around 1100 km put on the bike, because as you can probably surmise by the seatpost extension, it wasn’t quite the right size for me. A 52 would have been a tad large, but better, though it wasn’t available on the web special anyway.
We had funThe final form before I ultimately sold it
I co-planned this ride with a pal, but ended up not being able to join the 8am start – instead, I found myself walking the dogs at 9:30am, and every paved surface was so icy that I was constantly nearly falling and choosing to walk on grass whenever possible. I couldn’t believe that nine friends had already endured 90+ minutes of this (there were plenty of crashes).
But I got the green light to go at 11am, and headed out. It was still very icy! There was a couple instances of wanting to turn, trying it and finding out that the front tire was just going to slide, and deciding against turning in general.
The route plan was about 115km, with about 40% gravel and the rest pavement. Due to the treacherous roads, I ended up taking more trails than initially planned just to keep on a more grippy surface.
If there is one thing I am known for, it’s finding all manner of sneaky trails, connectors, and decommissioned roads to connect up where I want to go – it comes from a place of really not wanting to share my space with cars, and also the joy of exploring my surroundings.
I followed the Trans Canada Trail (more or less) for the first 30 km of the ride, which took me to a favourite brewery that had just released some barrel-aged stouts. I picked up a couple, and headed further east towards Pitt Meadows by way of the Poco Trail – a really lovely gravel MUP that was seeing a lot of use today, despite the cold temps.
I then crossed into Pitt Meadows, known for its flood plain topography and acres upon acres of farmland segmented by dykes you can ride atop. The birding here is good, and I always see a bunch of bald eagles.
Past that, farmland roads of steadily deteriorating quality took me to the most pothole strewn kilometer of my life on a dirt road that provided access to the Pitt Addington marsh pathways. These are mentally and physically taxing to ride, as they are deeply rutted and bumpy, but provide the most incredible views of this magical valley.
I should have taken a photo of the “paved” road out of this valley which I had looped to. Those who’ve ridden to Pitt Lake know, but otherwise it’s hard to convey just how rough the pavement is. Roubaix-like, for certain. I was running relatively low pressure in my Babyshoe Pass tires and was struck by how well they damped out the vibrations. Still rough, though! And the odd pothole large enough to send you over the bars if you hit it straight on.
I’m getting a bit ahead of myself on the photos though – below is the main dyke that runs along the south edge of the lake (to the left is actually “marsh” but sure looks a lot like lake here). At this point it was just after 3pm, and I was 60km from home with about 75 minutes of daylight left. I fished my lunch out of the bag and ate it while riding, because I couldn’t spare a minute at this point. I knew as soon as the sun set, the ice was coming back. It never left the surfaces which didn’t see sun, mind you, but that wasn’t most surfaces thankfully.
The sun set when I was about 30 km from home after a good hustle on the flat farm roads back out of Pitt Meadows, helped by a gentle tailwind. Below was the last kilometer or so of Pitt Meadows – the bridge in the background was what took me out of this suburb.
While it was now dark, and increasingly icy, I really wanted to complete the route as planned and so I took the Burnaby Lake trail which was technically closed as of 20 minutes earlier. This is part of my work commute, and is a beautiful stretch of double track that feels extremely rural despite being a stone’s throw from the highway at points.
I didn’t take too many photos of the last 20 km because it was dark, and generally not that interesting – I did pass through the main roosting location for much of Vancouver’s crows at a really neat time (about an hour after sunset). The trees are completely packed full of sleeping crows on every branch, on both sides of you, for hundreds of feet – it’s really neat to experience. Thousands upon thousands of crows, yet it’s nearly dead-silent.
The ride finished at just shy of 115 km, and not a ton of elevation though that is somewhat misleading with the undulating trail for the first 30 km and then long miles of gravel, and barely-roads. I am toasted!
This was my first Rivendell, bought not too long ago at all, really! Ordered in October of 2019 (and received in November), in the first two years I had already put more mileage on this bike than any bike previous (about 5800 km), despite having had many others for longer.
The parts, initially, all transferred over from my previous bike: a Soma Grand Randonneur. This made ponying up the cost of the frameset a lot more digestible. The only changes I made was the bar and stem to account for the longer top tube – a short, 5cm Nitto Tallux and initially a Crust Towel Rack bar. The latter was changed to a Simworks SoBar (50cm version of a Noodle) a few months later and this worked much better for my neck and shoulders.
The very first iteration (left) and two days later (right)
Not much has changed in the two years I’ve owned it at the time of writing this – in fact, while my bike spending was at an all-time high for 2021 (and same with my riding mileage!), I spent nary a cent on this bike! It’s just the way I want it.
This is the first and only bike I’ve owned that I’ve been completely sure I want to keep the bike forever for the entire two first years of ownership. I don’t expect that feeling to change. It’s just a magical bike – surprisingly quick, immensely comfortable, and can do just about anything. I’ve legitimately thought about a second one, set up with flat bars and a big front rack, but instead the Bombadil fills those shoes.
I’ve experimented with Albatross bars on the bike now a few times, which works really well – though I went back to the drop bars a couple times because of the overlap that exists once I have a Hillborne with Albatross and a Bombadil with KT bars.
For 2024, I’ve tucked the Bombadil away and am focusing on riding less bikes – the Hillborne being one, and as such, it’s now free to take on a slightly different role: the everyday bike as well as the long distance and road-ish bike. Above shows the build as of the end of November 2023, and 9600km on this bikes’ odometer.
[This is a favourite loop of mine, and also many of my riding pals. I’ve done it many times, but the loop documented here remains one of the best, as the forest just had something extra magical about it that day.]
I had this particular route in mind when I bought this frameset from Joe. It’s just outside of town here in Vancouver BC, and its quite unique and special. We have an immense wealth of trails on our north shore, though most are technical mountain bike or hiking trails. I love those trails, but this route features the only extended stretch of gravel that is fully closed to motorized traffic (except service vehicles, which I’ve never come across) as well as the only paved parkway that extends into the wilderness in this region.
I can ride it from my doorstep; it’s about 11km to get to the ‘good stuff’, taking bike routes and a bridge to get there. The climb in is significant; this is a mountainous area. After pedaling up the access road, the first few kilometers into the forest are along the paved parkway – a special gem that is shared with many cyclists, walkers, rollerbladers etc in the summer. Now that the temperatures are barely above freezing and it’s usually raining, the path is much more empty.
This path carves through the rainforest for about 5km, leaving cell service behind, until a pretty hard-to-miss singletrack turnoff takes you down a steep embankment to this grand clearing, known as The Spot among friends here. Despite its established looks, it’s both well hidden and hard to access, and therefore goes unknown to many who ride this region.
From here, my route follows a steep downhill stretch of singletrack to a marsh, where a gravel access road begins and will take me a further 7km into the valley and away from the city.
Above is a trail that loops around the marsh, the backside of which requires riding through about a 40 foot wide drainage area that is between 6 and 12 inches deep. Tough to get through with dry feet!
This access road, called Spur 4, used to be charming double-track with grass up the middle but it was graded this year with fresh gravel. Unfortunate, to me. Bears and cougars inhabit this area and humans are few and far between – combine this with the lack of cell service and the fact you’re now over 10km into the woods, it can be pretty humbling to ride alone.
A connector trail brings you back to the main parkway, where most people are. It was a little wet today, but that’s fine by me. I can’t imagine life without full-coverage fenders!
Above is the view of the lake, which is as far as you can go. It was only about 2:30 but already the sun was falling behind the tall peaks to the west; I’m far enough north that it’s getting dark shortly after 4pm now.
Above is just a little more appreciation for this bike. What a capable machine for such multi-surface adventures.
The first leg of the return route is called the Hatchery Trail, and it’s the highlight of the whole route for me. It’s a non-technical trail that winds through the moss-rich forest, including placards with information on local wildlife. It’s beautifully maintained and quite wonderous, considering the nearest vehicle parking is 10km away!
There is a beautiful bit of sandy beach along the river here, which is visible on the way up Spur 4 from partway up the hillside on the other side of the river.
This trail puts you back on the paved parkway, well north of where I had turned off to head down to the ‘back route in’. Just a few hundred meters up I noticed a large mammal immediately beside me; a deer who had no concern of my presence at all.
I followed this parkway the full 10km, it’s beautiful but I didn’t stop for any more photos. Once I reached the end, where most park their cars, I followed a trail eastward which dropped 120m in elevation in no time at all. It was STEEP! This is not one of the steep spots, but it gives a good sense of the trail.
As I dropped in elevation I entered a pre-sunset fog. Combined with the beginnings of a sunset, it really made for a cool effect with the moss and lichen covered trees.
The rest of the ride out looked similar to below. The trail ends at the end of a long residential street; bombing down that for a kilometer or two brings you to a major road that funnels to the bridge which brings me home.
The full route from my door falls a bit short of 60km, which is a nice length for me – big enough to be rather epic, but can be done in about 4 hours and leaves me with a bit of gas in the tank so I’m not a wreck for the rest of the evening!
Thanks for following along with my ride report / coming to my TED Talk! This bike rules.
