Category: General

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.

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.

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 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.

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.

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.

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!

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.

Ride date: Dec 19, 2021

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.

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.