Red Glare, Price, Maryland, April 2013

In April of this year I went with my friend Chris to Red Glare, a rocketry event on Maryland's Eastern Shore. My idea was that I'd spend some time riding on the flat, low-traffic roads of the area and observe Chris' hobby. I've written about the ride, and now I should give some photos from Red Glare itself. 

My background is in a hobby, chess, filled with odd people, and I had expectations I'd find rocketry to be the same. Or, in other words, I expected to find my friend Chris the norm rather than the exception. I was wrong. While the geek levels soared as I approached the launching area, everyone remained pleasant and talkative, and they had a good sense of humor about their obsession. (A high school rocketry club wore tee shirts saying "Yes, I AM a rocket scientist.")

Another surprise was how large some of these rockets were. I should have remembered the Apollo missions and the massive Saturn V rocket used to launch the capsule into orbit. Even these smaller payloads sometimes required a large rocket to boost them into the air. Note this man resting the nose of the rocket on his boot. I saw several people doing that, and it struck me as odd until I realized they probably wanted to keep dirt from getting onto the nose. NAR isn't NASA, but rocketeers take launching as seriously, and they don't want extra weight to cause a problem at launch. 

I wrote of oddity before, and Chris lived up to his reputation this trip. However, for all his eccentricity of dress and manner, on the whole he's a remarkably helpful and polite man. Witness the lesson on rocketry photography he gave to a man and his son on the launch field. And Chris' good nature remained unimpaired during the seven hours he spent standing on the launch field photographing rockets. My good nature, if any, would not have fared so well in such circumstances.




Speaking of not doing well, the gentleman in the previous photo did not have a successful recovery of his rocket. While the rockets have parachutes that should open when their fuel is spent, not all do, and not all get off the pad successfully. Nor do they always follow their flight path. This rocket had a hard landing in the corn field behind the spectators. Its owner had built the rocket for his Level 1 certification flight - the hobby's managing group has certification levels for flying motors of different sizes - and he was now reduced to taking apart the wreckage of his 200 dollar investment looking for parts to salvage. He remained in good spirits, partly disappointed but also pleased that he'd had a launch and that he was on the right path to success. He would find what went wrong and not have it happen next time. I was reminded of the old quip about Edison learning ten thousand ways to not create a light bulb.

Thanks to Chris' instruction, my rocketry photography improved throughout the day. But whereas Chris and the other rocket photographers focused on the mechanics, I focused on the interactions of rockets and people. Machines like bikes and rockets and what not are interesting products of man, but Man himself is more fearfully and wonderfully made than any contrivance. So while Chris' photos show launch after launch, my photos are different. Chris was pleased I photographed the launch of this "drag race" (rocketry slang for multiple rockets launching at once) but what makes the photo for me is the crowd. Its not a perspective Chris could get shooting where he did, but its the perspective I like best.

While I had a good time in my two days at Red Glare, I doubt I'd go again unless it was to ride the Eastern Shore. A little rocketry goes a long way for me. That's not a knock on rocketry. I just fly on different motors than the rocketry folks do... and I like my flight path.

Gear: Chris' Bike

I've had a couple of questions about Chris' bike. While the man himself is best able to answer them, this is my blog, and I'll take a shot.

Chris rides a Day Six Dream, a pedal forward designed bike that puts the rider in a position like that of a chair. Complete technical specifications are available on the Day Six website.Like many super obese men, including myself, he has a bad back, and being seated upright is the difference between riding and not riding. My friend is two hundred pounds over the weight limit for the bike, and has a history of problems with the rear wheel and seat. In the photo below, you might notice the seat contains wood. This isn't a historical tribute to the draisine, the two century old prototype of the modern bike, but instead a do it yourself fix for a seat that snapped under his weight. The wooded repair is stronger than the resin Day Six used, and the fix allows Chris to extend his seat backward, giving him a bigger platform. In addition he's added bar ends to the handlebar, and a basket for his beverages. 

 As I wrote in my post about our ride last week, Chris has struggled with the fit of his bike. He's stubborn, which has helped him not give up, and hurt him as he's insisted he can find a way himself. He also doesn't ride enough; restricting his long rides to my visits means he's not working through his problems when he needs to. But, as I wrote, Chris thinks he's made a breakthrough, getting the seat to move back without raising him up. If you compare the two photos in this post, you'll see the seat is further back by a couple of inches, and lower. This gives Chris a better leg extension without causing him to strain. The improved fit gave him an increase in average speed, as he didn't need to stop as often. Chris will be fine-tuning his fit in the next week.

Chris received a lot of incorrect advice from riders of conventional bicycles, including me, that he had to raise the seat to improve his leg extension. This shows the dangers of crowdsourcing; even a message board full of experienced cyclists can be wrong if they don't have experience with the type of bike they are talking about. Fortunately Chris is finding his way and with his customary good cheer will succeed.

Challenges - Delaware and Raritan Feeder Canal Towpath, NJ, August 2013

I returned with Chris to the Delaware and Raritan Canal Towpath to make up for the abandoned ride of the week before. Once again we started from Scudder Falls trailhead, but this time we headed south, towards the end of the trail in Trenton. The towpath surface and surroundings remain rural for the first three miles or so, but soon enough the trail becomes narrow and filled with broken glass. Since I like to keep my tires intact and this blog isn't A Taste For The City, we turned around just before the feeder canal towpath meets the towpath running from Trenton to New Brunswick on the Raritan River.

Once we were going back north, Chris informed me he was still having problems with his bike fit. Recumbency, the world's seventh major religion, is sold as the answer to every cyclists' problems, but truth be told they can be difficult to fit. My friend has struggled to find a position that doesn't cause numbing in his feet and his posterior and still gives him a proper leg extension. After a couple of long stops the coin dropped in the slot and the answer came. He took his seat apart, adjusted it to he's back further but he's NOT raised higher, and much of the discomfort went away. 

Meanwhile, my continued fit adjustments on Notung's handlebars were leading to nothing. I was still getting numbness in my hands after a couple of miles of riding. Stopping to let blood back into my hands hurt my speed tremendously. (Waiting for 17 readers to email me about getting a recumbent.....) I'm going to have to take the bike in for a professional fitting so this problem is resolved. My tinkering isn't working. 

Still, stopping isn't so bad if its a pretty trail. And it was a hot day, so stopping to drink was a good idea. I went through four water bottles; Chris consumed nearly two liters of fluid.  That and the improved bike fit seemed to give him new energy. 

The turn around spot on the ride was Bulls Island Recreation Area, a boat launch, picnic spot, campground, and service area for the towpath. The highlight of Bulls Island is the pedestrian bridge over the Delaware River. I crossed over to Lumberville, Pennsylvania and back, walking with Notung since riding is prohibited. My photos can't do justice to the beauty of the Delaware River. At one point a private plane flew low over the bridge, and it traveled down the river like a mechanical bird. 

Chris seemed to have gotten his second wind on the ride back. Even though I am allegedly the faster rider, my increasing discomfort in my hands gave him an advantage. Since he stopped less, he made it back to Scudder Falls twenty minutes before I did. The ride was 44 miles, longest for me post surgery and longest ever for Chris. I was very down by the end, as I had both my numbing hands and swelling in my knees to deal with. Fortunately Chris' good humor and a relaxing meal helped improve my mood. 

While the ride was generally good, there were some disconcerting notes. At one point a bunch of drunker rafters on the river were shouting vulgarities to people on the trail or the riverbank. Chris was trying to photograph a doe and fawn near the water and the rafters shouted "Hey Bambi, your mother's dead!" The deer ran away, probably as offended as we were, And on the way back we came across two young men looking to win a Darwin Award. The water level wasn't deep here, and yet both men were jumping into the stream feeding the canal. Chris observed that their form was a modified belly-flop, since anything else and they'd probably hit bottom during the dive. 

Prang! - Delaware and Raritan Feeder Canal Towpath, August 2013

For once I wasn't the one having problems on a ride. But its best to start this story at the beginning.

Needing to get in miles for the upcoming MS City to Shore, I decided to take on a half-century on the Delaware and Raritan Canal Towpath. The Scudder Falls trailhead, a few miles north of Trenton along the feeder canal and Delaware River, is 25 miles from Frenchtown. My friends Chris and Anthony said they would join me as they too needed to get in miles for the MS ride.

We left the trailhead and headed north at 10 AM. However, we didn't get far before Anthony called attention to Chris' rear tire. It was cracked and bulging. Chris seemed unconcerned, but Anthony is a very experienced rider, and on his recommendation we pulled into the only bike shop on the trail, ten miles up in Lambertville, for a new tire.

Once Chris' bike was serviced and road-ready,  we continued north. I'd last ridden the towpath in 2007, and I'd forgotten how good the pea gravel surface was. Yes, there were stones in places, and some tight gates to ride through, but aside from my continuing problem with numbing hands I made good progress. And the scenery was gorgeous. Floodgates and spillways flowed, and the Delaware River often came into view. Even though we'd lost a lot of time at the bike shop, the three of us felt confident and strong.

And then Chris had his seat give way.

My friend Chris weighs 420 pounds, and his bike is a Day Six pedal-forward model. The bulk of his bulk is on a wide seat with a back. Early on, Chris broke his seat and he fixed it himself with plywood. While that resolved the problem of his bike ever being stolen, it added to the weight on the seatpost. And it turns out the adjustable seat is secured by a single bolt.

One guess what failed. Four miles from the bike shop, just past the town of Stockton.

The three of us came up with a plan. Chris was going to start walking back to the bike shop. Meanwhile Anthony and I rode back to the shop, hoping they'd have a bolt that would fit. After the staff got over their surprise to see us again, they did find a bolt that would work. And we headed back, meeting Chris halfway between Lambertville and Stockton.

I'm not mechanically inclined, so Anthony and Chris started working on repairing the seat. They had just gotten the bolt installed when they discovered the threads on the clamp that holds the bolt had been stripped.

Chris' ride was over. But not for Anthony and me. Chris drives a stick, and neither Anthony nor I could drive his car. This meant I had to get back to retrieve my big friend and his bike. Since Chris had spent all his cash on a tire three hours before, I gave him ten bucks in case he could find a New Jersey Transit bus in Lambertville that could take him back to near the trailhead. Anthony joined me, but I suggested he darken the door of the bike shop yet again in case they had a clamp, or could fashion a healer coil for the stripped clamp.  The two remaining riders headed out as Chris resumed dragging his bike to Lambertville.

I reached the car after a few stops to let blood back into my hands, and after a sweaty and exhausted Anthony caught up to me at Washington's Crossing State Park. Anthony babysat my bike while I drove the fifteen miles back to Lambertville. A tired and forlorn Chris was sitting on the steps of the closed bike shop with his wounded bike.

Of the planned 50 mile ride, I finished with 34. Anthony's total was a bit more, probably 38 by my calculating. Chris completed 15 miles of riding and four of walking the bike. Not a good day for him with five weeks until he attempts a century. On Tuesday he's going to get the bike repaired so he can get in the miles he needs to be ready for September 28. And as his Team Captain, I'll do my best to get him across that finish line.

Chris stalks a deer

During today's ride on the Perkiomen Trail my buddy Chris observed a deer feeding just off the trail. He puts his hunting skills to work in the above YouTube video.

Heated Debate on the Perkiomen, July 7, 2013

Chris and I met at the dog park in Monte Clare for the day's Perkiomen Trail ride. I chose the Perk because its shaded for much of its length and the temperature was heading for 90 degrees. We agreed that we'd wing the distance after I insisted I wasn't going to spend all day out in the heat. We eventually settled on twenty miles, which turned into 22 when I suggested we turn around at the first big bridge over the Perkiomen.

The first stop was in Lower Perkiomen Valley Park. As Chris pedaled up he asked "Why are we stopping here?"

"I need to get a photo of you on your bike. Whenever I post pictures of you on my blog my pageviews soar."

"Wow! I'm special!"





Just off the trail, down a side road, we went into the woods when I heard water flowing over stone. I'd never known there was an old dam on the creek here, but there was the Indian Head Dam. With the recent rains the creek was swollen and the volume of water was impressive.  Nearby were the remains of an old mill, and we poked around in them. I spent ten minutes walking on the rocks along the creek photographing the dam, while Chris patiently waited and sweated in the shade. Note in the first photo there's a man cooling off in the creek.
















Once out of the park we were on gravel and under tree cover. We both felt cooler, but it was still hot. However, as we were moving we cooled off. We both kept hydrated - I estimate I consumed over 120 ounces of fluid during the ride, and I can't imagine Chris drank much less.

On the way up, I decided to put on my Captain's hat for Team Clydesdale, and spoke with Chris about training. "How fast can you made your sled go?"

"I don't know. I'm happy with the speed I have. I should be fine for the MS City to Shore."

"But sprinting will make you faster overall by raising your top speed. As your maximum increases your average will go up."

"But-"

"Do it, fatso!"

And Chris took off like a rocket. A big rocket, but still, he took off, and I only caught him when he ran out of steam a mile later. Chris is super-obese, but unlike me when I was the same weight, he's physically active. He has enormous leg muscles, muscles built up from carrying his mass around. Those muscles were put to work on the bike, and it was impressive.

I know interval training doesn't work immediately, but doing the sprint seemed to improve Chris' speed during the rest of the ride. While I still rode faster overall, when I waited for him to catch up, I waited less and less. Perhaps the sprint developed his confidence?

After the turn around at the bridge, I felt hungry. I saw signs for Iggy's Pizza a mile from the turn around, and when I saw they had water ice, I decided we should stop. It was worth the visit; Iggy's is a small shop, but the pizza is great, and so is the water ice. And the air conditioning felt good too. 

The only drawback was that it gave Chris and I the chance to talk. My friend could fall asleep in a public meeting and on awaking argue with whoever was speaking. Normally I can resist, but I was tired from the heat, and so when Chris dangled a political hook in front of me I took the bait. I won't attempt to reproduce the entire exchange, since I have no desire to compete with Reason or National Review for readers, but here's a sample:

Chris practicing for his stemwinder at Iggy's Pizza.

"Even if Texas' Constitution doesn't have a specific clause allowing it to leave, the right of secession is protected for the states" said Chris.

"Sorry, its not. What are the first words of the Constitution?"

"We the People."

"The next bit, please."

"We the People, in order to form a more perfect union-"

"More perfect that the Articles of Confederation, a document that bound the states to each other in perpetuity. The Constitution was designed to replace the Articles and improve them. Hence, no leaving."

"That's just your interpretation....."


We had the staff of the pizza shop listening to every word. But when Chris started an extended discourse on the Tenth Amendment with one of the shop guys I exercised my right to secede and left. Chris finished his speech along with his water ice, and caught up to me at the Collegeville trailhead twenty minutes later. One side effect of my departure from the impromptu session of Libertarian pillow-talk is that Chris had to hustle to catch me. In other words, more interval training.

The ride back was uneventful, save for the final three miles, which saw Chris decide he liked interval training and riding ahead of me. He was off gravel, and back on pavement, so he turned on the rockets - figuratively, not literally - and reached the car ten minutes before I did. We were both disgusting sweaty messes. We had a good time.

Mount Misery, January 1

Someone originated the good idea of hiking to celebrate the New Year. In Pennsylvania or regions that have a winter that's not always easy to do. But this January 1 the weather was cold but clear, and I was full of energy. And to make the trip more fun, I invited my new friend Chris to join me. Since I had limited knowledge of his hiking experience I chose a short excursion. And since I had limited confidence in my abilities at this point in my recovery I stuck with something I'd hiked before.

Our destination was Mount Misery in Valley Forge National Historical Park. The grandly and ominously named hill is across Route 23 from General Washington's Headquarters. We decided to start our hike at noon. Since parking was limited at the trailhead Chris parked at the Visitor's Center and we drove over in my car.

We started at the far side of Mount Misery, near the Knox Covered Bridge. Despite having done the climb a half-dozen times before, I found the effort tiring, but not as tiring as Chris did. Lugging 430 pounds up a hillside is work, and we had to stop twice to let the big guy rest. That gave us a chance to wish "Good afternoon" and "Happy New Year" to the stream of people climbing the hill. It was encouraging to see so many people out enjoying the day, and enjoying it with their children and dogs.


The trails on Mount Misery are typical 'Rocksylvania' - I struggled at times on them. Chris, who was a Boy Scout as a youth, regressed to childhood and didn't let the rocks bother him. Once he was done with the climbing portion he was a chatterbox, talking about anything and everything. When we reached the abandoned spring house he explored it, squeezing into narrow spaces like a ten year old.








It was just past the spring house I came to grief. I had trouble getting down one stretch of trail with a steep grade and I turned my right ankle. Once we got to the benches at the bottom of the hill I sat down and took off my shoe. There was no swelling, but enough pain that I limped through the rest of the hike. Fortunately, we were now on the flat Valley Creek Trail, and what started as a hike ended as a walk. We took breaks often, this time for my comfort rather than Chris'. But as always, stopping is a reason to use a camera.



Before we realized it we were at the Knox Covered Bridge and our hike was at an end. We were cold, tired, and in my case limping, but we had a great time. It was over dinner after the hike that Chris and I realized we hit it off when we hike and ride together. And so a friendship was formed, with a three mile hike on Misery.

The Easter Egg: Hike with Chris at Silver Lake County Park

The Saturday before Easter I met Chris for a short hike at Silver Lake County Park. We'd been to the park before, but in winter when it was snow covered. Now it was awakening with spring. And if it wasn't fully awake, it became so once it saw Chris in his colorful glory. On seeing his purple and pink attire, I told him "You look like an Easter Egg" and people around us broke out laughing in agreement. 

The hike was a couple of miles, from the parking area to the Visitor's Center, along the marshy edge of the lake over boardwalk and on drier, firmer trails. Its a little refuge of green amid the sprawl of Bristol and Levittown. 

My friend Chris, who was a Boy Scout before he grew to looking like he ate a Boy Scout, was in talkative form. With me that's his usual state. I didn't expect his Doctor Doolittle routine with the fauna at Silver Lake. Here he's trying to lure a Canada Goose into a discussion on goodness knows what. The goose isn't silly and isn't buying the come-on. 

Then there was the snake. Chris is amazing agile for a man his size, and when he spotted a small garter slithering in the grass he had to grab it.

Chris claims he was taking the creature's photograph. I maintain Chris was hungry and was using the mobile app for My Fitness Pal to look up the calorie content. Finding it too low, he set the creature free. We had lunch afterward at a local diner without a snake to spoil his appetite.

SRT, Cromby to Parkersford

The longest bike path in Eastern Pennsylvania is the forever in progress Schuylkill River Trail. The SRT, when complete, will run from the Delaware River in Philadelphia 130 miles to Pottsville, headwaters of the Schuylkill and home of Yuengling, America's oldest brewery. (I expect ultracyclists will complete the ride in a single day and then have a Yuenling as a recovery beverage. But I digress....)  But its far from complete at the moment. The biggest chunk, the paved trail from Philadelphia to Mont Clare, is 26 miles or so. From Mont Clare the trail skips and jumps between gaps and sections on roads. One day the trail will be complete; perhaps my grandchildren will see it happen.

The most recently opened stretch of trail was between Cromby, outside of Phoenixville, and Parkersford, passing through Spring City. I rode a stretch of it in 2011, as one of my last rides before surgery. But I'd never done the whole segment, and now I had a bike that fit me. Chris joined me at the trailhead in Parkersford, and we set out.

Well, Chris set out. I had my usual small problem. Years of moving a crooked leg onto the right pedal gave me a set of muscles and a mind that is adjusting to a new pedal stroke. It took me a minute to get my foot onto the pedal. But once underway, I felt like myself again.

There's no need to adjust your monitor; that color splash in background of the photo above is Chris. Admittedly he's riding a bike that's designed to be ridden in ordinary clothing, but then again there's nothing ordinary about Chris' attire. 

The trail segment ranges from flat and well-groomed fine gravel as it nears Spring City and Phoenixville, and slightly rougher in condition elsewhere. The two parts I enjoyed most were the slight climb up from the Cromby trailhead, and a stretch along the river which reminds me of the railroad cuts on Western Pennsylvania rail trails. The area below, for instance, brings the Great Allegheny Passage to mind. 

It was a good dozen miles for me. Chris seemed to enjoy it as well, although he found riding on gravel harder than riding on pavement. For my part, the two big problems I had were the difficulty with my right foot, and my hands going numb. I'm sure time and practice will let me correct both troubles. 

Route 202 Parkway Trail, Doylestown

As one of the first rides on my newly repaired bike, in April I met my friend Chris for a sixteen mile trip on the new Route 202 Parkway Trail. The trail is new, as is the stretch of Route 202 it follows. It offers a car-free transit between Doylestown and the outskirts of Montgomeryville, and as PENDOT reconstructs the roadway south the trail could be extended as far as Norristown.

Chris and I met at Doylestown's Central Park, and rode the connecting trail over to the parkway. I felt strong, stronger than I had riding my other bike. One rise did defeat me, but that was stamina, not muscle power. Part of the problem might have been the saddle was too low. I didn't notice until I was a couple of miles from the car, and I'd forgotten my multi-tool. I rode with it as is because I don't have anything in my knees to hurt anymore. The clicking was annoying, however, and I resolved to get a better saddle height so I didn't have to listen to my joints on the next ride.

Aside from the rise that defeated me, I found the regular road crossings annoying. When they designed the trail they included grade crossings at intersections and having to stop and press the signals to cross slowed me down. Still, despite the crossings, its a pretty trail and I enjoy riding it.

So did Chris. As he makes his first appearance on this blog, I should introduce him. I met Chris on a bicycle message board I used to post to, and suggested we meet for a hike. We did, and we hit it off.  He was 430 some pounds at the time. He's now working to make himself less of a man, with the help of riding and hiking as motivators. Apart from his size he cuts a distinctive appearance on the trail; he rides a recumbent, and his fashion sense is an odd mixture of foppishness and sloppiness - imagine Oscar Wilde and Oscar Madison as one, if you will.

We finished with sixteen miles, and as usual with us we went to Olive Garden for dinner and to Planet Fitness to work out afterward. Dinner came none too soon, as the photo indicates....