Going to Mt. Taylor

The other day we went to Mt. Taylor, just to the north of Grants, NM. We had not been out there for about 10 years and had forgot just how far it was from our home in Rio Rancho. And how long that desolate road full of nothing was between here and there. Here are some photos of the highway and the 'nothing' we saw on the way. There were a few interesting rock formations in some areas. It seemed there were as many big freight trucks as there were regular cars and pickups.

Life Goes On

(Photo: X-Ray showing my broken ankle. Diagnosis: fracture- ankle, medial malleolus, closed.)

One year ago today, I broke my ankle rock climbing.

In part, I started this little blog in order to force myself to write about it. But I've been struggling with what to say about it for a year now, and I'm afraid that struggle isn't over.

My accidenthappened on a Gunks climb called Insuhlation (5.9). I fell justafter the final crux roof. I pulled over the roof with no problems, but there was a wet hold above the roof that I suppose I failed to use well. Or maybe my foot popped, I'm not sure. Truthfully, I don't know exactly why I fell. I had my right hand on the semi-jug above the wet hold. I was looking around for pro; my last piece was a green Alien a few feet below the roof. And then I was off.

I recall with vivid clarity the sensation of falling. Time suddenly slowed to a crawl, and I saw my half ropesin a parabolic arcabove me as I flew back outward from the rock. It seemed as if I had a good long time in midair to consider that this might not end well. I remember thinking "this is it!" ...but I'm not sure what I had "it" in mind to be. I yelled out "falling," and then things sped up considerably. I flipped upside-down and then the rope came tight on the green Alien, which held, and I came to a stop, hanging in the air with my head where my feet should have been.

As I righted myself, I realized I was injured. I couldn't understand why I'd flipped over. The rope wasn't behind my leg. And I hadn't felt a thing. There was no impact at all that I had sensed. So why was my ankle tender and starting to swell? I asked my partner N to lower me to the ledge. The pair climbing next to us onObstacle Delusion retrieved my gear on rappel and filledus in on what had happened. "You flipped over when your ankle hit the rock," one of them said. So it seemed there was an impact, but in the adrenaline-pumped moment I hadn't felt it. At least itall made sense now, even if the explanation didn't jibe with what my mind had allowed me to experience.

Thinking it was just a sprain, I hobbled the whole way from the High Exposure access trail back to the steel bridge, refusing numerous offers of assistance from concerned strangers. The best and the worst of the Trapps in autumn were on display. People were kind and supportive, but there were far too many of them. At one point I stopped to rest in the Uberfall area and counted over thirty climbers in my immediate field of vision, all of them looking at me in a pitying way that made me very uncomfortable. N thought we shouldsummon the rangers, but I insisted that if I could evacuate myselfwe shouldn't initiate a rescue. I now recognize that this was a stupidmistake. I really don't think it made my ankle any worse, but if I'd listened to N, we would have had the benefit of the advice of first responders, and I would likely have been taken to a hospital for an x-ray right away instead of waiting 24 hoursand only thenfinding out the ankle was broken and required surgery. It also would have put much less pressure on N, who ended up having the sole responsibility of babying me all the way back to Brooklyn.

In the aftermath of the accidentI was overwhelmed with guilty feelings. The source of these feelings was hard to pin down. I felt guilty about inconveniencing my wife.She'd have to pick up the kids every day and do all the cooking for months to come. I also felt guilty that I'd made whatever climbing mistake I must have made to get into this mess. I blamed myself for the accident, although I had a hard time deciding what it was I'd done wrong. I also felt a lot of guilt about imposing my injury on N. I entertained totally unfounded fears that she'd never climb with me again, and that all my other climbing partners might desert me as well.

Amidst all this I wondered if I really was feeling most guilty about climbing in the first place. Was I taking pains to find fault with my climbing on that fateful day because I needed to avoid confronting something harder to deal with? Was my accident really a reminderthat even if you do everything right when you climb, even if you place gear liberally and it holds, you can still get hurt? Was it a sign that I should quit,that climbing is unacceptably dangerous? Certainly a number of people, from my doctor to my mother to my wife's colleagues, assumed that my broken ankle would be thewake-up callI needed to make me come to my senses and stop this climbing nonsense, as any responsible husband and fatherwould.

I did not want to quit. Although I didn't know how I'd feel getting out there on the rock again, I was sure, as I sat around recovering and gaining twenty pounds, that I would missclimbing terribly if I stopped doing it. But I didn't want to be a bad husband and father. I had to ask myself if climbing could be done reasonably, or whetherthe dangers were such that no amount of rock climbingcould be consideredsane.

I read numerous classics of mountaineering literature searching for the answer, to no avail.Many great mountaineers have wrestled with the question of why we are drawn to climbing, and whether the dangers are worth it. Some embracethe risk, declaring danger to beat the verycore of the climbing experience. Othersfocus instead onthe many other wonderful aspects of the sport-- the scenery, the adventure, the physical and mental challenge, theconnectionwith nature-- but throw up their hands at the death toll and ultimately leave the question of whether it is all worthwhile to a higher power.

Of course, these writers are considering a different sport than the one in which I participate. They are writing about climbing real mountains and pushing the very limits of the possible. They choose to face objective hazards that cannot be managed, such as altitude sickness, avalanches, and sudden deadly changes in the weather. And in order toexpand the boundaries of what can be climbed, they deliberately go without reasonable protection on climbs that are incredibly risky,forging ahead on blank, smoothrock facesand through rotten bands of ice. These writers would think nothing of the climbing I do in the Gunks on a two hundred foot cliff that has been fully explored, with every route to the top exhaustively indexed by its difficulty and protection rating. To them the risks taken by a weekend warrior likemehardly qualify as risks at all.

And yet there are risks in any climbing environment, no matter how tame that environment is. In the Gunks, for instance, there have been very few fatalities over the years, but less than fatal accidents occurratherfrequently. Lapses in judgment lead climbers to forget crucial steps in the climbing process. Theyrappel off the ends of their ropes, or drop their partners. Objective hazards exist: rocks fall down. And no matter how much difficulty and protection grades may sanitize a climb, it is still easy to wander off route, to miss a crucial gear placement,or otherwiseto find oneself in territory where a fall could be disastrous. Gear that seems solid may pull out; it is hard even for experienced climbers to dependably judge placements of climbing gear. And finally, as my accident demonstrates, even if the gear is solid you can get hurt in any fall.

It is often pointed out by climbers that many sports carry dangers, and that climbing is actually less dangerous thancommon daily activities like driving a car. This may be true, but we are not forced to choose a dangerous sport in which to participate. We don't have to choose climbing just because it isn't as crazy as BASE jumping. We can shun all sports involving danger if it is the right thing to do. And while driving a car may wellbe more dangerous than climbing, we live in a world in which we can't escape the car. We have no choice about it. Climbing is different. It is a luxury we can well afford to drop.

But I couldn't bear to drop it.After my accident I was desperate to find a rationale for continuing to climb, a way to go forward but feel I was being reasonable and safe about it.

I wish I could tell you that I figured out the answer to this problem. I wish I could say thatI developed a calculus to determine how much danger is acceptable. I wish I could offer you a climbing plan that is 100 percent risk-free, or tell you that I located the perfect spot on the climbing danger continuum at which adventure is maximized but life-threatening hazards are minimized. But obviously I did none of these things.

Instead I decided to wade back into climbingslowly and to take it easy, minimizing risk by minimizing difficulty. Even this simple plan was a difficult one for me to execute, because I like to challenge myself. But aside from a few lapses I mostly stuck with it, avoiding leading harderclimbs all year, being willing to follow other folks' desires and ambitions more than my own, and repeating a bunch of favorite climbs instead of always seeking out new ones.

At first, I found that my accident had wreaked havoc with my lead head. I was tentative on the lead, becoming paralyzed at crux momentsI never would have worried about in the past. On more than one occasion this year I fell or took a hang because I simply couldn't commit to the move atthe crucial moment of a climb. The irony of this situation wasn't lost on me-- before the accident I pretty much never fell while climbing, but afterward, while trying to go easy and safe, I found myself falling or hanging on gear with some frequency. This seemed like madness, and made me wonder what the hell I was doing out there at all.

But I'm happy to report that over time my head improved (although not completely). I lost a good bit of the weight I gained and I alsotried through the year to become a better technical climber with a better awareness of balance and footwork than I had in the past. I see increased proficiency as a path towards feeling confident enough to progress back up the grades in the future. At some point this year I gave up on having any big climbing achievements in . It has been a rebuilding year.I haven't led a single pitch of trad 5.9 all year, and I'm fine with that. I recently followed a few, and they felt laughably easy. I take that as a good sign, and I plan to put that good feeling in my pocket for the winter, work really hard in the gym through the cold months, and emerge in the spring with confidence thatI can soon begin leadingharder climbsagain, breaking back into 5.9 and maybe even 5.10. And I hopethat whenI doso the climbs willfeel secure, and not beyond my limits.

So I have continued to climb, and life goes on. I can't assure anyone that I have made the right decision. But I can promise I'm more careful than I used to be, with the unfortunate side effect that I'm also more tentative. I am more willing to back off, and I will be much slower about working up the grades, more conscious of my limits. On the whole I believe I'm moving in the right direction. And that's the best balance I thinkI can achieve.

Wool/Poly Blends for Cycling?

While merino wool has become a popular fabric choice for bicycle clothing, it seems that many manufacturers choose to use wool/polyester blends instead of pure merino, believing that the right combination can deliver the best results. Rapha and Road Holland use a fabric called SportWool. Shutt Velo Rapide usesMerinoPerform. Swobo refers to their blend as Merino 753. I am sure there are other proprietary names, but judging by the descriptions of these fabrics the idea is essentially the same: The blend is formulated to have wool fibers on the inside and polyester fibers on the outside, which the manufacturers believe delivers ideal performance properties.






Observing the way these blends have been marketed over the past couple of years, I've noticed an interesting dichotomy. The fiber content shows that merino comprises only 20-40% of it, whereas polyester comprises 60-80%. Yet the names of the blends inevitably feature the words "merino" and "wool," with no mention of the dominant synthetic content. To me this suggests that the manufacturers are eager to promote their use of wool given its current popularity, but in fact do not believe it is possible for wool to be a performance fabric - hence the idea that wool needs to be improved upon (by adding polyester) in order to be used in cycling clothing. All of this has made me highly skeptical about the wool/poly blends. But over the past few months I've had the opportunity to wear several garments made of these fabrics, and gave them an open-minded try. What follows are my impressions.






Having joined a local cycling club last December, I receivedtheir club jersey (right), which happens to be made by Rapha out of the aforementioned SportWool. A couple of months later, I received some items for review from Shutt Velo Rapide, including the Women's Training jersey (left), made of MerinoPerform. Both jerseys are 40% wool, 60% polyester. The texture and weight of the fabrics appear to be identical.






On the outside, the wool blend fabric is smooth and has a slight sheen to it.On the inside it is matte, soft and slightly textured. To the touch, neither the outside nor the inside feels like true merino, but the inside comes closer.




I have worn both jerseys over a (thin, 100% wool) base layer as well as directly next to my skin. I am sensitive to polyester was was curious whether this blend would engage that sensitivity.





In cooler weather, over a base layer, both jerseys feel pretty good. In fact, as mid/outer layers, I have to admit they regulate temperature better for me than the pure wool equivalents I own. I do not experience any sensitivity wearing either of these jerseys over a wool base layer.





However, worn directly next to skin I found the jerseys inferior to the pure wool alternatives. In warm weather the wool/poly blends do not breathe as well for me, and I feel clammy wearing them. I also find them less versatile for temperature regulation when worn on their own. On one ride I found myself too hot in the jersey at 85°F and too cold at the end of the ride at 65°F. I know that my long sleeve 100% wool jerseys are more versatile over the same temperature range.





Rapha, Shutt Velo Rapide and Road Holland each offer lighter weight versions of their wool blend jerseys in an airy eyelet fabric. I've tried the one by Shutt Velo Rapide (above) and it did keep me cool in hot weather. The downside was that as soon as the temperature dropped a bit, I felt chilly. In my experience, pure wool is just more versatile in this respect.





As far as polyester sensitivity, I experienced it with the Rapha jersey when worn directly next to skin, but not with the Shutt Velo Rapide jerseys. I think the reason is simply that the former fits me tighter, so it comes into closer contact with my skin. Either way, after wearing the Rapha jersey in 80°F weather without a base layer underneath, I promptly got a rash under my arms. To be safe, I won't be wearing either of the wool blend jerseys without a base layer again.





Finally, some are probably wondering about the BO factor. Wool is well known for its odor-resistant properties, whereas polyester is known for quite the opposite. I found these jerseys to be somewhere in the middle in that respect, but closer to polyester.





In summary, I have learned that for me the wool/polyester blends function extremely well as outer and mid layers in cool to freezing temperatures. However, they do not function well for me when worn directly next to skin in warmer temperatures - both failing to provide the same temperature regulation as pure wool and activating my polyester sensitivity when coming into close contact with my body.




I am curious about others' experiences with wool/polyester blend fabrics from these and any other manufacturers. How do you find them for cycling compared to 100% wool or 100% synthetics?

A Christmas Gift to Remember

The topic for the December 10th installment of the Advent Calendar of Christmas Memories hosted by Thomas MacEntee is: "Christmas Gifts. What were your favorite gifts, both to receive and to give?"

Probably the most unusual and most memorable Christmas gift I ever received, though not necessarily my all-time favorite, was a present from my 14-year old sister in 1968. As you can see by the picture, it was a very large box, the biggest one "under" the Christmas tree. In fact, so big it couldn't fit under the tree!

I opened the box, and inside was another box. And inside that one was another box! And another, and another! Six in all. The box that actually held the gift was only about 4x4 inches. By the time I opened the final box, it really didn't matter what was in it. We had so much fun with getting to it. But, what was it you ask? A watch. Actually, a broken watch. It was a watch that didn't work! Not only was this a surprise to me, but to my sister as well. Being only 14 years old, she didn't have much money, and had gotten the watch from a friend. It didn't matter. As they say, it's the thought that counts, and a great deal of thought (and effort) had gone into that gift. Favorite gift, no. Memorable, yes!

Such a Sad Sight

Mother Nature dumped about four inches of snow overnight in Northern Indiana. The wind has done more damage to the daffodils than the snow though. They had just started to bloom yesterday. They'll survive, just a little worse for the wear… and maybe not quite as pretty as they would have been.

Cycling in Lower Manhattan

I am in New York City for a few days, with all sorts of nice cycling people who have gathered here for the New Amsterdam Show this weekend and the Bobbin Bicycles/ Adeline Adeline party last night. One of the first familiar faces I encountered was the beautiful Julie, of the Julie blog. This lady works in the fashion industry and rides all over the city on her white and pink Linus loop frame named Kate Middleton... which I think speaks for itself: Cycling in New York has certainly become more accessible over the past few years.






On my way down here on the train I realised that I had not been to the city since maybe - which is almost 4 years ago now. I have to confess that I don't love New York. It's not that I hate it. I just fail to see the magic and romance in it that everyone gushes about. Maybe it's because my family briefly lived in Washington Heights at a time when it was anything but romantic and my impressions are forever coloured by those childhood memories. Whatever the reason, I just see New York as a very large, very crowded city where you have to watch yourself despite all the art galleries and coffee shops and lofts and trendy boutiques that have popped up in neighbourhoods that used to be considered "dangerous."






And despite hearing about all the new cycling infrastructure here, I couldn't easily picture myself riding through the streets of New York, at least not right away. What about the dense traffic? The notoriously aggressive drivers? Walking from Penn Station to Tribeca it was hard to imagine myself sharing these busy streets on two wheels.





But an hour later I was doing exactly that - on a beautiful Retrovelo, courtesy of Adeline Adeline. While my travel radius was mostly limited to lower Manhattan, it was still a surprise to experience how relatively easy riding in the city has become.





I started out on the West Side Highway bicycle path, which is quite impressive. The 5.5 mile stretch of major road along the Hudson River has a protected greenway running through it the entire way, with somewhat frequent but well designed interruptions where bicycles even get their own green light.






The lanes are wide, allowing bicyclists to pass pedestrians and each other if need be. Cyclists were courteous and used their bells. Pedestrians behaved predictably. With views of the city ahead and views of the river alongside, it is a great path.





Many of the piers in this are have been renovated and developed with all sorts of little restaurants an recreational complexes. The weather was pretty terrible on Thursday afternoon - heavily overcast skies and cold temperatures - but there were lots of people strolling along the piers and enjoying their day.





One great thing about New York City, is that no one found it strange at all when I would stop to photograph the bike. In Boston passers-by will sometimes comment how wacky it is that I am standing there and taking close-ups of a bicycle, but here no one batted an eye.






Having had my fill of the West Side Highway, I took to the streets. Some streets have bike lanes and others don't, but honestly I found that it did not matter hugely. The bike lanes were so frequently blocked by double parked cars and delivery vehicles that a degree of comfort with vehicular cycling was necessary regardless. There was a lot of traffic, but it was slow moving and drivers seemed accustomed to cyclists. I got honked at a couple of times, but so did everyone else around me - honking just seems to be a way of communicating here. When I needed to make a left turn and didn't change lanes early enough, a taxi driver saw my predicament and let me squeeze in ahead of him with an impatient but not unfriendly wave. Overall it was entirely manageable and not any more stressful than riding in downtown Boston.






I will not be in town long enough to experience riding in the city as a person living here would, but my Thursday afternoon jaunt was a nice introduction to cycling in New York. After 4 years away it was certainly the best "welcome back" I could have hoped for. I will eventually be posting about the New Amsterdam Show and all the other things I am doing here, and you can check my twitter feed for "live coverage" snapshots of all sorts of neat things. Have a good weekend!

First Ascent of Kang Nachugo by Climbing Rangers

In mid-September, one of our lead climbing rangers, David Gottlieb, took off for Kathmandu on a climbing trip through the Himalayas. David's climbing partner, Joe Puryear, is a previous Mt. Rainier climbing ranger and friend. Their goal was a first ascent of Kang Nachugo (6,735 meters), found within the Himalayan Valley of Rolwaling. Joe set up a climbing blog, so that friends, fellow climbers, and family can stay up-to-date on their progress. We all waited patiently for news of their climb and verification of their safety. Thankfully, a post on October 25th stated simply that they were successful and were safe. Their blog now has a full trip report, complemented by some amazing pictures - definitely worth a full read-through. We just want to say "Congratulations" to both Joe and David, while wishing them safe travels home. We hope to see you on the Mountain soon!

GRIP :: Day 2 of Classes

Tuesday - July 24th - This was our "variety" day.



First up was Tom Jones with Transcribing and Abstracting documents. I've done more than a little transcribing of wills and deeds but now realize that I haven't always been doing it quite right. The main thing is to take your time and refer to helpful references for unfamiliar terminology.



One of the recommended references was the 4th edition of Black's Law Dictionary. Why the 4th edition? Well, after that edition was published in 1967 the next and subsequent editions had to purge some of the old terminology to make room for the new! A paper copy of one of the earlier editions may be hard to come by and rather expensive. If you Google "black's law dictionary 1st edition" you'll find several online versions. This site has links to the individual pages that have been scanned, but also has a full download of the scanned version - but be aware that it is a very, very, very large download.



Abstracting documents has always been rather tough for me. It's hard to decide what to leave out, especially when the document has rather colorful spelling. But it really comes down to eliminating the non-essential terminology to get to the basic information it provides. Dr. Jones said "If in doubt, leave it in." It isn't an exact science although there are some "rules" to follow.



After a short break, Claire Bettag, talked about Archival Research highlighting the differences between an Archive and a Library and the types of collections they have. She also discussed the how you find materials in each - Libraries have Catalogs and Archives have Research Guides that define the various record groups and what they contain. Of course, there was far more to it than just that!



The first session after lunch gave us Rick Sayre on Military and Pension Records. Then Clair came back to discuss various types of Government Documents (aka "Gov Docs") and where to find them. And we got our first homework assignment... thankfully it wasn't difficult.



As if a full day of classes wasn't enough, I went to the "Google Earth" presentation by Rick and Pamela Boyer Sayre. It is pretty incredible what all can be done with it. If you have a chance to see their presentation, I highly recommend it.



And, it all begins again... another full day awaits.

Mt. Adams, South Climb

One group at the start of a good climb on Adams.



Chris on the steepest part of the climb.




More climbers heading up Widowmaker.




Mt. St. Helens and sunset as seen from our camp at 9,300'.




Climbers starting up the south face early in the morning.







The true summit as seen from the false summit. There were a lot of threatening clouds and even some wind-driven 1/4" hail, but it did not last long.



One group on the summit...



and another...



and another...



and another.




What a great climb. The road was clear, the weather was good and the snow was excellent. The guides were awesome, the sherpas were strong and the climbers were determined. What more could you ask for?

The Castle Snow Pit and a big temperature gradient!

Howdy Everyone!
This week's snow pit was dug in the Tatoosh Range on the east side of The Castle. General observations: 10 cm of great powder on top of a hard, multi-layered, 10 cm crust. As you can see from the graph there are two thin ice layers with softer snow beneath both. The layer of most concern is between 17 and 20 cm deep. Small faceted crystals (i.e., angular crystals) were observed in this layer, which can be expected due to the large temperature gradient in the top part of the snow pack. (Any time the temperature gradient exceeds 1oC over 10cm, the potential exists for faceting.)
Stability tests did not show any propagation, but failures were consistent at 18 cm. The Rutschblock Test showed a failure at 10 cm (the interface between the powder and the icy crust). But I have to admit, the crust was so icy that I slipped before I could get in a good jump on the block.
In summary, the strong temperature gradient and faceted crystals are signs of instability in the snow pack. However, the near- surface crusts are very strong, and seem to be adequately supporting sun-seeking recreationists.Great skiing conditions can be found where the wind hasn't scoured off the powder. Terrain and conditions will vary, so stay alert out there! More precip is headed our way for the weekend. Get out while you can.

Guide House Opening

This weekend the Guide House will be open for climbing registration. If you come up on Saturday or Sunday to climb on the south side of the mountain, please register in person at the Guide House in Paradise. We'll be open 6:00 AM till 3:00 PM both days. If you're coming up outside of that time frame the self-registration box will still be in place in Paradise at the Old Station.

The Guide House will be open everyday starting May 29th. Check out the permits, registration, regulation link to the right for more info. Also, if you're planning to climb an east- or north-side route, look to that route's condition page for current access issues.

Climbing ranger staff has still been busy in pre-season trainings. Last Monday Mark Moore from the Northwest Avalanche Center, NWAC, came up to the park to talk meteorology with us. He gave a great presentation mostly regarding the weather around Mount Rainier. The NWAC website is a great resource for all climbers thinking about climbing a route on Mount Rainier. Please make use of all the excellent online weather resources available. Check out the weather link to the right for some starters. The image to the right is from the UW's MM5 model for this Friday at 17:00.

Comfortable Carbon: Trying the Parlee Z5

Looking down at my handlebars around mile 50, I felt a pang of alarm at the sight of unfamiliar decals. Then I remembered: I wasn't riding my own bike. I had gotten so comfortable, I'd forgotten. A stern voice in my head began to chastise me. "Come on, you are doing a test ride. You're supposed to be paying attention to the ride characterisics - not enjoying the scenery." Easier said than done!




To explain how I came to test ride the Parlee Z5, it may help to give a bit of a backstory. For some time, I've been interested in getting a feel for carbon fiber roadbikes. However, my attempts at this have been less than successful. I've ridden a handful of carbon bikes briefly, but either they were not set up for me to do a proper test ride, or I found the ride quality too harsh to actually want to ride them for any length of time. Of course not all carbon bikes feel the same, just like not all steel bikes feel the same. With this in mind, I finally approached the matter more strategically and talked to some industry insiders familiar with my riding style and preferences. A few suggestions kept coming up. Among them was the Parlee Z5.






Parlee Cycles are a small and local-to-me company, based in Beverly, Massachusetts. So the idea of trying one of their bikes was appealing. Later this summer I plan to visit the factory and write about them in more detail. Parlee offers both custom frames, built on the premises, and production models designed inhouse and built in Taiwan. The Z5 is the latter.




The demo bike was lent to me by Cycle Loft, a Boston Parlee dealer. After undergoing a fitting session, my position on the Z5 ended up near-identical to that on my own roadbike, making for a seamless transition. I kept the bike for a week and rode it for about 135 miles.






Even before I rode the Z5, I could see why this bike was suggested to me. To call its appearance "classic" might be pushing it. But the aesthetic is clean, subtle, neutral. I did not find myself biased against it, in a "Meh, this is ugly" kind of way. In fact, I find it rather pretty.






Made from a single carbon piece (what is known as "monocoque construction"), the Z5 frame has a seamless, sculpted look to it. At the same time, the round tubes and the smooth, but crisply delineated joints, bear a resemblance to those of metal bikes. There are no MC Escher-esque bulges or round-to-square taperings here; the frame looks simple and familiar. For those who are curious to try carbon fiber but wince at the look they associate itwith, I do think Parlee eases the transition.






I rode the Parlee Z5 in size Small (Tall), which translates to a 52.5cm top tube and a slightly extended headtube compared to their standard Small. The complete geometry specs are here. The bike was fitted with a SRAM Force group andMavic Ksyrium Elite wheels with 23mm Michelin Pro 4 tires (complete build specs here). Though I have Campagnolo on my own bike, I feel very comfortable with SRAM and have no trouble switching back and forth. The handlebars included in the standard build were 2mm narrower than the (42mm) bars on my own bike, but otherwise the fit was almost identical.






The one disappointment was that the front-center was a bit tighter than I like. With 23mm tires, I had a tiny bit of toe overlap. The amount was minimal, and I still felt comfortable test riding the bike. But with 25mm tires I would not be.





Riding the Parlee home, my first impressions were dominated by how comfortable it felt - namely, the ride quality over harsh roads, bumps and potholes. To provide some background, I am pretty sensitive to ride quality and cannot stand a bike that feels harsh. It does not matter how fast it is, how nimble, or how good at climbing: If I feel vibrations from the road or pain from going over bumps, I just can't take it for more than a few miles. This sensitivity was a big factor in my own roadbike purchasing decision a couple of years ago, and a major reason I went with a titanium Seven. So with that as my personal bike, granted I am now a bit spoiled in the ride quality department. Lots of bikes feel at least a little harsh compared to my Seven.



Lots of bikes, but not the Parlee Z5. Nope. The Z5 was flawlessly smooth. As in zero road buzz sensation, zero pain over bumps and potholes. At some point I started intentionally riding it over every stretch of broken pavement I could find, but I couldn't feel a thing.





Of course, whether it feels painful or not, a roadbike with skinny tires will still toss you around on bad roads. And it is here that I could feel a difference in the Z5 compared to my own bike. Until now, I had considered my Seven to be quite stiff. But after some time on the Parlee, I could feel a "give" in my own bike that I had not detected before. In comparison, there is no give to the Parlee at all; on bumpy roads it sort of bounces as one unit rather than exhibit even a slight amount of yield.






But despite being stiffer, the Parlee did not feel harsher than my own bike, even as I rode it longer. To my surprise, neither did it feel faster. I rode alone and I rode with some fast friends. Each time, speed and effort-wise, it felt just like being on my own roadbike.




I decided to ride the Parlee on a 100K New England Randonneurs "Permanent" course I had done alone a few weeks earlier (67 miles, with 3,800 feet of climbing). Just as I'd done previously, I timed myself and genuinely tried to do my best. My average rolling speed on the Parlee was 13.3mph, whereas on my own bike it had been 13.1mph - a difference too small to be significant, considering that my fitness had also increased a bit since the earlier ride. Of course this bit of anecdotal evidence may not mean much. But it reflects my subjective experience of the bike.




One reason I picked this particular 100K route for the test ride, was for its brief unpaved stretches. The bike rode on broken pavement so nicely, I was curious how it would do on dirt and gravel. Just as nicely, it turns out. While I prefer to do unpaved rides on wide tires at low pressure, if I must ride skinny tires the Z5 is as good as it gets.






Aside from all this, I did feel something distinct to this bike in the course of my test rides. It was a sensation in the rear triangle - possibly the chainstays, and it was specific to cornering. It was as if the rear responded to cornering differently from what I am used to. The chainstay area felt lighter somehow, almost as if it wanted to skip or lift off on corners. Well, maybe describing it that way makes it sound too negative. Unfortunately, I don't know how to explain it any better, but I actually liked this sensation. I found the bike to be maneuverable on corners in a way I had not previously experienced.




Normally, I am pretty sensitive to a bike's front-end handling, and less so to other aspects. The Parlee was the first time I was struck by characteristics specific to the rear of the bike.






While technically not the first carbon fiber roadbike I've ridden, the Parlee Z5 is the first one I've put a sufficient number of miles on to warrant a report. In part this is thanks to Cycle Loft, for lending it out and setting it up to fit me perfectly. And in part it's thanks to the bike's comfortable feel, which made me want to keep riding for miles and miles. Much like on my own bike, I did not experience fatigue on the Z5 after strenuous rides. And much like on my own bike, the handling, for the most part, felt "unnoticeable" - encouraging me to focus on the scenery and the ride itself, rather than on the bike.




Going into this test ride, I had several expectations about the feel and performance of carbon fiber: Namely, that it would feel harsher, stiffer and faster than my own bike. The Parlee Z5 felt only stiffer, and even that was only noticeable to me under certain conditions. Granted, I don't race, I don't ride aggressively, I spin rather than mash, and I don't climb out of the saddle. My impressions are limited to the kind of riding I do. And that riding involves 50-100 mile jaunts, sometimes more, usually with lots of climbing and usually on bad roads.I like a fast bike that makes me feel weightless. And I also like to be comfortable. As far as that kind of riding goes, I felt right at home on the Parlee Z5.