Wear your helmet - but don't USE it!

   Really...you have no excuse - put on the helmet! I don't care if I hurt anyone's feelings by saying that not protecting your head is the stupidest thing to do on your bike. Modern bicycle helmets weigh next to nothing, and they are very well ventilated. If you are worried about “looking dorky” or “messing up your hair”, how great are you going to look with tubes sticking out of your body? And imagine how bad your hair will be after laying around for weeks in a coma!

   There is no reason you should be on a bike anywhere without one. The chances of an accident have little to do with the distance you are going or the speed at which you are travelling. Anything can happen, and you are not always the one in control of what will occur.

   I think of all the families cruising around down at the shore in the bike lanes not wearing helmets, as though the relaxed atmosphere of the shore prevents drivers from being idiots - those painted lines are not a protective wall. There are plenty of other bad cyclists, such as the morons riding the wrong direction towards traffic, and beach-goers crossing the streets to cause problems as well.

   I also regularly see people out on the local trails with their helmets resting on the handlebars, as if they are safe, now that they are away from cars. Glad the bars won’t be scratched when a branch gets caught in their front wheel and sends them cartwheeling through the air. I immediately think of all of the squirrel, groundhog and goose scares I’ve had over the years – and don’t forget those wonderful earphone-wearing joggers who love to do unexpected U-turns! 

   The helmet isn’t an inconvenience, it is protection - and believe me, when something happens and your head takes an impact, you will appreciate that you were wearing one.

   Saturday I set off on a 50-mile loop out to Perkasie and back, a bit discouraged by the gusty winds that seem to be an almost constant companion this spring. I was happy that the direction was seldom straight into my face, but that can cause other complications, as I would find out later.

   The route I take has terrain that is up and down the whole way out, with a nasty climb at the turnaround point. I then ride a ridge which is nearly-flat to downhill almost all the way back. Closer to home there are some final leg-sapping hills, but by then I’m nearly done, so it’s motivating to get over them quickly.

   At about the 35 mile mark I was on a narrow section of road, sharing the lane with passing cars and fighting the wind on my right side. With little room to go anywhere, I ended up hitting some broken pavement and drifted towards the shoulder.

   Well, there really was no shoulder, only a drop-off into a hole about a foot deep. The front tire popped, and I lost control, careening off to the right into a ditch, culvert, gully, death-trap – whatever you want to call it – about six feet down.

   If I had the experience of a racer and frequent crashes, I may have reacted by “laying down” with a proactive crash to avoid the drop. I have heard that it is important to stay with the bike, as it can take much of the impact on your behalf, and in extreme falls (such as ravines, etc.) a bike can even save your life by hooking trees to stop you or at least slow you down.

   My descent unfolded in dreadful slow-motion, as I anticipated how much this was going to suck/hurt. I recall hearing the whole way down, like some bizarre background music, the hiss of the tire deflating. 

   I had a vice grip on the brakes, but with the severe drop and loose ground involved, there really was no stopping. As I reached bottom, the front wheel dug in, and I was propelled onto my chin, getting a mouthful of dirt, small gravel and pine needles. 

   Because I’ve had dental injuries in the past that have taken a while to correct, I first rolled my tongue around to feel that my teeth were thankfully all there. My stomach turned a little when I felt a gaping cut way down inside my lower lip and thought I had bitten through it. I spit out a large glob of miscellaneous gunk and blood, then rolled over and yelled “Help!” halfheartedly, realizing no one was going to see me down in this ditch.

   I crawled up on all fours and waved at a couple cars that unbelievably just kept going, then someone stopped and jumped out of her car. I do remember Ashley’s name, though I don’t recall much that I said in return, but I had a Road I.D. bracelet and simply pulled it off to hand to her. I had it together enough to tell her I was relatively okay, so that Sue wouldn’t be unnecessarily panicked with the call.

   The first response person – I’m pretty sure he was a policeman named Darryl – was thorough checking me out as I laid on my back with my eyes closed because of blinding, salty sweat/sunscreen running into them. He kindly took some gauze from someone’s car first aid kit and wiped my eyelids clean so that I could see him. He told me my mouth was bloody and I had small cuts and scrapes on my face, including one on my nose from the sunglasses. Because I had crawled out of the trench, he knew I wasn’t paralyzed, but he told me to remain on my back and had me squeeze his fingers.

   He gently felt my jaw near my ears and asked about pain, but the only thing I was feeling was my excruciating lower lip. He then felt around my head and lightly behind my neck, “How about here?” I told him that it felt good, and he could keep doing that. He laughed as I told him I have some arthritis in my neck and the jolt may have loosen things up a bit.

   I could hear the ambulance arrive, and soon a very nice young man named Colin crouched down by my head and looked me over as Darryl reviewed what he had observed and the answers I had given to his questions. Colin asked for a few more details, looked inside my mouth and told me it would really be a good idea to have my jaw and mouth examined at the hospital. He then made sure Sue would meet us there instead of coming to the accident scene.

   As they were bringing out the gurney Colin asked how far I had been riding and where, as he is also a cyclist. Just as any fellow cyclist would know, the bike’s condition is always a concern. After making sure it was retrieved/secured somewhere temporarily, he told me, “The bike looks okay, too!” I found out later that Colin actually had put it into the ambulance with us. 

   Because I responded well to all their tests and assured them I could move well enough, they helped me to my feet. I'm sure they also considered that it was easier for me to get to the gurney than get it down to me. At this point I took a glance into the gully and saw the obvious divot I had made in the ground below. I also took note of a nasty pile of broken brick and rubble about a foot from where I face-planted - I'll choose not to consider the consequences of that landing!

   On the way to Pottstown Hospital he hooked me up to an IV and gave me some much needed painkiller. Knowing I lived nearby, Colin told me he was a frequent Bikesport customer, we shared our appreciation for the fantastic guys over there. Despite my lips becoming increasingly swollen, I filled him in on my bicycle business. I later had Sue give him a business card and told him I would take care of him if he needed any repairs, or if he needed a deal on a new or vintage ride!

   What I may remember most about the hospital was lying in the bed with my muscles all contracting. It may have been some form of shock, but it felt like my body was trying to do a stomach crunch, sit-up, leg lift-type maneuver all at once - sort of an all-over cramping. I wasn’t cold at all, but I began to shake uncontrollably, and my teeth starting chattering, which REALLY hurt my messed-up mouth!

   I was hoping not to make Sue and Carrick panic, and I took deep breaths trying to calm down. Sue lightly rubbed my forehead, which usually works like the paralysis-inducing stroke of an alligator’s belly, but it was producing little effect at this moment. At one point the two of them gently held my ankles in an attempt to stretch me out and relieve the agonizing body clench. The pain killers finally kicked in to help settle me down.

   The oral surgeon arrived to clean out the debris that was still in the deep wound and explained that I had a “degloved” injury where the lower lip was torn from the jaw at the gum line. I was dreading the injection of novacane into my lip, as I know from plenty of dental experience how that can sometimes sting badly, but whatever had been given to me already softened the pain of the needles going in.

   As this was the first time the assistant had seen this specific injury, the doctor calmly explained how he was pulling the tissues together with symmetrical stitches, “tacking” the middle first and then each opposite side back to the middle. He also mentioned how mouth injuries like this should not be closed completely, so that it can drain and not form a hematoma. It was interesting to listen to, but as Sue peeked in quickly to see what they were doing, she confirmed that I would want no part of seeing what they were up to. “It was pretty gruesome, dude!”

   After a CT scan, just to double-check my head, I picked up the Percocet (VERY necessary, I’ve found out) and penicillin prescriptions, I was on my way home. It was around 11:00 PM at this point, and I hadn’t eaten since my mid-ride snack, so I was very hungry but couldn’t imagine chewing. Some homemade chicken rice soup and a milkshake turned out to be the perfect solution. Sue stocked up on some applesauce, pudding and other foods with low-chewing factors, which I would need for the next couple of days.

   By the next morning the swelling had given me a large, square jaw - combined with the cuts and scrapes I looked like a cross between George C. Scott and Frankenstein’s monster! Today I am sore, and colorful bruises are showing up in places that I wasn't aware had taken a pounding - it must have been the pain meds for my face helping to keep those spots "secret". 

   As far as recovery, it will take a while before all the feeling comes back to my lower lip, as some nerves were severed, so I am sort of mumbly, but my speech is generally pretty understandable. It doesn't feel that great to talk right now anyway, so I'll choose to be on the quiet side for the time being.

   The whole “wrap-up” to this story is that when we collected my belongings, we noticed the helmet was compressed all along the front edge, and on the right forehead area was a dent about half an inch deep. Without the helmet I can assume the bridge of my nose wouldn’t have just gotten away with a scratch caused by sunglasses, and I really don’t want to know what that dent would have been like on my skull!     

   By the way, it is the law in Pennsylvania that children under twelve wear a helmet while riding a bicycle – if you haven’t already, step up and become a responsible parent by telling your kids they are not allowed to ride without one. Just like anything in life, start them early with good habits. It’s all about safety, keeping your body in good working order, and in some cases just staying alive!

On- and Off-road

   This spring I intend to try a couple new (to me) trails that I heard about through friends and websites. Generally I don’t like to do out-and-back routes, unless I really desire a break from road traffic or if the surrounding landscape (such as a river gorge) doesn’t inspire me to adventure beyond the trail itself. I usually plot some type of loop that combines roads and trails, so the scenery isn’t repeating itself. There are times, however, when my designed route will have to be altered because of some road detour or unforeseen trail conditions, and I can’t quite stick to the plan.

   Such was the case last week when I took a ride on the Enola Low Grade Trail that runs nearly 29 miles in disconnected segments from the town of Atglen, PA, to the Susquehanna River near Creswell, PA. The name of the trail makes reference to its heritage as a former Pennsylvania Railroad (PRR) line on its way to Enola, PA, once the location of the largest railroad yard in the world.

   The Atglen and Susquehanna (A&S) Branch was built by the PRR from 1902-06. The branch was built to relieve congestion on the Philadelphia to Harrisburg Main Line, as well as the Columbia and Port Deposit (C&PD) line along the Susquehanna. The route was designed for freight service, where minimizing the grade profile was of high importance, since hauling heavy trains on the main line was hampered by relatively steep inclines.

   Because of its relatively flat topography the branch was often known simply as the "Low Grade."  When combined with the railroad's Trenton Cutoff and Philadelphia & Thorndale Branch, the new line permitted the PRR to operate a low-grade bypass that avoided the congestion of the eastern seaboard and the steep grades of the Main Line.

   The route flourished with freight traffic until the decline of northeast railroads, when overall reduction in traffic made the line redundant. During the era of Conrail (1976-89), traffic was rerouted via the former Reading and Lehigh Valley Railroad lines from Harrisburg to North Jersey. The last train ran on the Low Grade in 1988.

   When I heard of this rails to trails project, I immediately recalled a spectacular photo I’d seen of Pennsylvania Railroad trains crossing the Safe Harbor Trestle, which was part of this route. Although I can’t recall the source of the old photo, below is a modern shot of a Norfolk Southern train at this location.

   During construction of the A&S Branch, the existing C&PD stone bridge over the Conestoga River was destroyed in a flood. The rebuild became a combined C&PD and A&S structure in the form of a unique two-line, two-level steel viaduct known as the Safe Harbor Trestle. This crossing carried the C&PD line over the Conestoga, while the A&S ran parallel and approximately 100 feet above. Although I knew it would be some time before the upper deck of the Safe Harbor Bridge would be open to cyclists, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to check out the construction progress of the trail, and hoped I could get close enough to look at the spectacular bridge.

   While planning the trip, one problem I noticed from the trail map was a lack of access to the eastern end of the Enola Low Grade Trail. This project is in its early stages, and some land along the way may be acquired for a parking lot and other connections, but there are other factors that make reaching the tracks difficult anywhere along this route!

   If you are familiar with the Pennsylvania Railroad, they were a very progressive company and knew that grade crossings only create obstacles that can potentially slow down the moving of passengers and freight. Historically their routes are characterized by long, high earth fills, plus stone or concrete bridges that have the tracks flying overhead to avoid any intersections with roads. Imagine now, trying to build a parking lot with a simple pathway to reach the trail – 30 feet up in the air! On the right is a typical “intersection”, this one over Rt. 272 in Smithville.

   In fact, the nearest trailhead with parking was in the town of Quarryville, which is at about the halfway mark between the endpoints of Atglen and Safe Harbor! On this trip I had originally intended to do an out-and-back, covering the full 46 miles, so it didn’t really matter where I started, but I would have appreciated not having to drive an extra 12 miles to get to the trail!

   The first six or seven miles through Providence Township were very pleasant, with a path of fine, crushed stone about two cars wide that gently arcs through farms (some Amish). The quality of the surface changed noticeably once I crossed into Martic Township, but it wasn’t any worse than some of the rough sections I frequent on the Perkiomen Trail.

   The recently refurbished Martic Forge Trestle is a spectacular structure, crossing nearly 100 feet above the Pequea Creek. Below is a photo I snapped from the new wooden deck and also a borrowed shot of the bridge taken from the road below.

   The rest of the ride can only be described as brutal, as in some sections the surface was barely better than riding over railroad ballast. Much of the path was a thick layer of golf ball-sized rock, which I suspect is just the base for an eventual overlay of finer material – at least I hope it is! The next half hour or so of riding was a fight to find a semi-worn path in which to ride and to keep upright when the thick layer would give way under my front wheel. I was also constantly adjusting my grip as my fingers became numb from the vibration through the bars!

   I was excited to finally see the Susquehanna River come into view and enjoyed seeing some of the rock climbers that braved the cliffs right alongside the trail. I could (sort of) make out the Safe Harbor bridge ahead through the still bare trees, but a security fence prevented me from getting a very good view or any picture of my own. I did take a photo of the river and the interesting dam at the confluence of the Conestoga and Susquehanna.

   In hindsight, I should have just turned around at the Martic Forge Bridge to do about 40 miles over the better-maintained sections. My arms and legs had taken such a beating from the rattling ride to Safe Harbor, I decided to call it quits after 25 miles, when I made it back to my vehicle in Quarryville. Maybe I’ll come back with Sue later in the year to do the east side – I know she won’t want to head down the west end until improvements are made, and quite frankly, I don’t think I will want to either!

Picture Day

   For a while now I have been contemplating the idea of finding unique locations in which to take photographs of my completed projects. Not only am I getting bored with shooting in the same spots around my yard, but I think interesting backgrounds will make the bicycles more attractive to prospective buyers!

   For me it was a no-brainer where to take some pics of the Ridley Icarus SLS, after I put the last touches on the bike – in this case some cool Belgian flag-striped finishing tape on the handlebars (photo left). There is a gnarly short section of uphill cobbled road in nearby Phoenixville that just screams Roubaix to me, and knew this would be perfect background for the “Flandrien”-branded bicycle.

   I have often been tempted to ride up this little stretch of road, but unlike some of the roads in Belgium that are regularly tended to by the race’s “friends” societies, this American pavé is very neglected. The location is usually near the beginning of some of my regular ride loops, and I always fear a puncture – or worse – before my ride really gets started. Someday I’m just going to take the chance!

   One thing I hadn’t really considered is how to stand up the bicycle for the photos, without having anything like a wall on which to lean it. I’ve seen all sorts of artistic, gravity-defying bike images on the internet, and did a quick search for ideas. There were, of course, plenty of wise asses out there suggesting magic, helium balloons and fishing line, etc., but there were also some interesting ideas, such as having two people take turns holding each wheel and then merging the two images of “empty” wheels.

   I really wanted to do this on my own and without having to purchase any kickstand-inspired contraption, so I did some experimenting. I eventually came up with a solution using a simple one inch dowel with a notch cut in one end, and the other trimmed at an angle to lay flat on the ground. I wedged the dowel under the chainstay to create back pressure and then rotated the wheel so that the valve stem would fit into the notch.

   I not only achieved a stable tripod with the dowel and each wheel as contact points with the ground, but also managed to keep the bicycle from rolling with the valve stem anchored in the notch. I painted black the side that would be in view and left the back edge unpainted with a red “up” arrow for quick visual reference for setup.

   Not that the cobbled road is heavily traveled, but I parked about halfway up the street and left the car directly behind me with blinkers on for protection from anyone that may turn and not expect someone to be there taking photos! I’m really happy with these shots...

   Last Sunday’s Tour of Flanders definitely lived up to my expectations, with three-time winner Fabian Cancellara (Trek-Segafredo) and Peter Sagan (Tinkoff) showing their dominant form. The current World Champion broke away with last season’s World Champ, Michal Kwiatkowski (Sky) and Sep Vanmarke (Lotto-Jumbo) with about 30 km left, bridging up to an earlier breakaway group.

   Knowing that his every move would be closely watched, Cancellara patiently waited near the front of the chasing peloton and allowed rival teams to keep things close until the last time up the Oude Kwaremont, the longest climb on the route. Up ahead Sagan and Vanmarcke accelerated away from the fracturing breakaway and Cancellara (seemingly) effortlessly powered away from his fading group.

   Holding an 18 second lead at the foot of the route’s final climb, the Paterberg, Sagan (photo right) bid goodbye to Vanmarcke, with only 13 km to the finish line. Vanmarcke was able to catch onto Cancellara as he flew by at the top of the climb but didn’t contribute much to the ensuing chase. The Belgian may not have had a whole lot left to give at this point, but I suspect, from his resume full of second, third and fourth places, that he didn’t want to expend a ton of energy, just to lose out to two rivals who in the past have shown the ability to beat him in the sprint.

   It didn’t really seem to matter, as Sagan looked incredibly strong, time-trialing in by himself to win by 25 seconds. Knowing that Cancellara plans to retire at the end of this season, Vanmarcke made a classy gesture by not even contesting the sprint for second place, allowing his Swiss rival to ride in alone and giving the crowd the opportunity to salute the cyclist many see as an “adopted Flandrien”.

Be sure to catch the spectacle of Paris-Roubaix on Sunday morning!