Bike

Reynolds 853 - heat treated
UTS: 81 - 91 Tsi, 180 - 210 Ksi,
1250 - 1450 MPa

"This seamless air-hardening steel tube sets new standards for professional cycle frames and proves that steel still has a future at the highest levels. It is suitable for TIG welding and brazing, using lugged or lugless construction. The production process ensures tight tolerance, gauge tubes. The strength to weight ratio of 853 is close to that of quality titanium frames. A normal chrome molybdenum steel will lose strength in the joints after the heat has been applied.

This material (853) INCREASES in strength as the frame cools to strengths well in excess of the delivered values shown above. This unique air hardening property of Reynolds 853 provides additional stiffness through reduced microyielding at the joints, allowing stiffer frames with excellent fatigue strength (when compared to standard chrome molybdenum) and a superior ride quality from the finished frame. On road and touring frames we recommend the use of 631 or 725 fork blades with 853 frames".

I got that off their website.

This material eliminates the need for butted or double butted tubes and brazing because it is strengthened by the heat of the welding operation, and should a weld ever fail, any old shop in Africa stands a chance of repairing it. This is why aluminum or carbon or any number of other possible (and possibly lighter) frame materials were not selected. The frame has holes and braze-ons for every conceivable configuration of component parts in case anything I have now should break and I can't find the same replacement parts. The forks are extra wide to accept both mountain bike and regular street width tires.

The rear axle is solid steel, not the hollow axle that usually houses the quick release mechanism. I was concerned about the asymmetric stresses of the trailer, as well as the stress of my 195 pounds and the weight of the bike bags, and so we took this extra measure.

I am using bar-end shifters because they are easy to adjust and repair and replace. There is a cassette of 9 gears on my back wheel, with three gear wheels in front for a total of 27 gears. We calculated all the gear ratios but I've forgotten whether there were some doubles in there or not and I'm not about to start counting teeth now. Originally we had a lower "granny gear", but the wheel is so small that there is a risk of breakage and I opted to go one larger. I'm pretty happy with the range of gears available to me, though I could occasionally use more power on the downhills.

The bike has disc brakes in both the front and rear. The stopping power is immense, even fully loaded, and there is no risk of damaging my wheel rims as sand might begin to grind between them and a set of normal brakes. If the disc brakes do ever fail and I can't fix them, the frame will accept normal brakes. The disk brakes have a small tolerance and I have had to adjust them a bit as the cable stretched among other things. Though its finicky, adjustment is fairly easy with some dials on the brakes.

I am using 26" rims that accept both narrow street tires and wide dirt tires. The originally planned trip had 1500 km of dirt track and 3500 km of paved road, but the new route shifts the proportion more towards asphalt. Spokes are heavy-duty, and my concerns about breaking them has proved unfounded so far. On my trip from Amsterdam to Morrocco in 1979 I had a lot of trouble popping spokes, and they are a real pain to replace. So far, so good.

The seat was measured to my butt (not kidding!), and I have suffered less for it: they are configured to maximize circulation in the seated position, and they really work.

Pedals clip into my shoes, which I always thought would limit my shoe options too much on a long trip, where I don't want to bring 2 pairs of shoes. Fortunately, I found the perfect set of bike shoe/boots that do it all: let me ride in comfort and hike around without any problem at all in something other than a sneaker type shoe. They are made by Lake out of...I think Illinois.

Handles are wrapped with gel tape, and I wear bike gloves because I lose circulation in my hands and fingers. It has helped a lot, but I still suffer from circulation problems.

The bike racks are the toughest racks I could find, Old Man Mountain out of Santa Barbara, California.

The bike bags are by Arkel, out of Canada, and they are truly fantastic. I opted for 4 equally sized bags in order to distribute the weight on the frame fairly evenly. Each bag is a bit heavy, but incredibly durable and with a waterproof inner bag that has proven to be very effective. The laptop I am typing on now has weathered some drenching inside those inner bags.

The trailer is by Radical Design in the Netherlands (thanks to mom for picking it up on her last trip to Holland, since they don't sell to the US). I chose it for it's weight capacity, which exceeded the one wheel trailers on the market by 10-15Kg. I will be carrying 40 liters of water on some legs of this trip (40 liters=40Kg=88lbs), and so the capacity is no small issue. The trailer has performed extremely well, and the removable wheels make it convenient to put on airplanes. It has a nylon rain jacket which has performed well, though on Day 2 I failed to notice it rubbing against one of the wheels, and the wheel rubbed right through the fabric. I almost never feel the trailer at all. My only concern about the 2-wheel design is how the rig will perform on narrow dirt tracks. I'll find out soon enough.

written by  roel krabbendam on January 4, 2007 from Gabes, Tunisia
from the travel blog: Harmattan
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Gabes city center

I had trouble getting money yesterday leaving Gabes, and didn't finally pull out until 230pm.
I had time for 40 km with that headwind still blowing fiercely, though not quite in my face as I turned westward, and pulled into El Hamma at 530, just as it got dark. 2 guys on a small motorcycle shouted some encouragement mid-day as they zoomed by, and then waved me over for a coffee a few hours later. Boubridaa Abdelhamid and a friend were toking on a waterpipe, and we ended up chatting a bit. Finally he invited me to go to the bath with him that night, which we did after I set up in a hotel in El Hamma. I treated him to dinner, though his wife kept calling him on his cell phone, and he was very worried about someone messing with his motorcycle. I was supposed to meet his family in the morning, but after waiting an hour past our appointed time I took off. I actually saw him heading towards the hotel several miles up the road, but he didn't see me. So, no picture, but I have his address and will ask him to send me one.

Abdelhamid is 42 years old, with a lot of metal teeth and some continuing dental problems. I frankly had my doubts about him when I sat down for a coffee with him, but he proved to be quite genuine. He's been married 22 years and has 2 sons: a 13 year old who is very studious and a 7 year old who's a bit of a devil. He worked for the last 6 years in the tourist hotels on the island of Jerba during the week and sees his family on the weekends. He does this to afford the appliances and plumbing fixtures his wife wants. He makes 300 Dinar/month working 12 hour shifts. He built his own house with some good help in only 3 months, and has several friends living with his family, paying rent. He grew up in Gabes working on the family plot, but switched to the hotel jobs at age 35 because he wasn't making enough money. For Eid he spent a month salary to buy a sheep, but he says it will keep his family very well fed for quite some time to come. "The frigidaire is full", he told me.

His dad is 90 years old, can barely see and hear and walk, but refuses to move in with him. His mom is 72, and both are supported by 300 Dinar/month that comes to them from Tripoli, where his dad used to work. The money stops when his dad dies, at which time they will sell the family home in Gabes and put mom in with one of the three sons. Abdelhamid has 2 brothers, one in the provincial government in Gabes and the other an electrician in El Hamma.

Last year some Belgian guy sent him 8000 Dinar to pay for a passport and visa and ticket, allowing Abdelhamid to come spend 5 weeks with him in Brussels.

He says he has a lot of opportunities with foreign girls at the hotels, with one Spanish girl in particular rather eager to marry him, but he has stayed true to his wife. We agreed it was just better that way.

written by  roel krabbendam on January 6, 2007 from Kebili, Tunisia
from the travel blog: Harmattan
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Mayssar Rebi

I could not convince him that my GPS offered neither music nor video games, and he happily went crazy on all the buttons for 15 minutes to see what he could pull up on the screen.

Mayssar rides a taxi bus the 35 km. to school every weekday in Kebili. He asked if I could give him some money to buy a bicycle. Instead, I pulled out my map of North Africa, and that was a real eye opener…for me. Damn, I’ve got a long way to go! Polly was right.

Making sure dad didn’t notice, Mayssar chewed through half a baguette and all of my cheese. Then he found my cameras, and demanded to take pictures. I took a picture of him instead, and promised to send it in the mail. Dad did not want to be photographed, and wanted me to write the address because (I suspect) he isn’t literate. Just really, really nice. I offered some money for the dates, and even insisted, but he would accept nothing.

On the road to Kebili

On the road between El Hama and Kebili

80 km. went very well today, which inspires me to thank the whole team that helped me come back from that unpleasant little car accident 18 months ago.

Polly Dithmer, spouse supreme, Acton, MA: After spending a month in bed in no shape to even walk, Polly gave me a custom bicycle for my birthday. I could barely stand up for the measurements, but her encouragement got me going, and really got this trip out of the “someday” phase.

Dr. Ma, acupuncturist, Newton, MA: delicate with the needles, but not shy with some horrifyingly painful maneuvers as well, Dr. Ma finally gave me some relief from the pain that had kept me off my feet for weeks.

Dr. Harrington, chiropractor, Concord, MA: Those neck maneuvers never failed to scare the living daylights out of me, but Dr. H had that magic touch and kept me relatively functional after I got back on my feet.

MetroWest Physical Therapy, Concord, MA: A therapist from Namibia with some great techniques and a magic touch when acupuncture and chiropractia just seemed to be taking too long.

Fitness Together, Acton, MA: When going to the gym during lunch proved ineffective, I found Jason, Monica, Matt and Brian. For 8 months, 3 days per week, all I had to do was show up, eat their fruit, and do as I was told: with patience and good humor they made sure I left a physical wreck. In their hands, I finally made some real progress.

Seriously, I hadn’t ridden a bicycle in ten years or taken a bike trip in fifteen years before this trip, and I hadn’t exercised anything but my drawing and typing muscles since then either. I know I was a real project, and owe you all a huge thanks.

Entering Kebili, late afternoon

Chott El Jerid

Bonbons Fruit Sec

Gate to the Souk

Tomorrow, Algeria. Visa hassles expected, and then there is this lurking apprehension about the people. This is a traumatized country I imagine, with years of fundamentalist suppression, Tuareg revolt, rampant unemployment and disaffected youth. Little news reports come out: “5 policemen massacred near Ghardaia”. Foreigners receive armed escorts and live in encampments surrounded by concrete and barbed wire. There is no tourist industry to speak of lately…and yet…

At least in Tunisia I’ve inspired such interest and generosity in the people I meet, with the sports thing creating some common ground with the 15-25 set. I can’t help but believe something similar will happen in Algeria. I’m counting on it.

Pharmacie

I arrived at the Algerian border in the early afternoon of the 9th from Tozeur: a wonderful 60 km ride above the Chott El Jerid. The birds infesting the trees within the confines of the hotel were exuberant, the wind was calm, the air temperature cool, the sun hot. A climb out of Tozeur led to gentle downward slopes that allowed me use of the little used larger gears.

I hope Polly will allow me this small admission, and I sincerely hope it doesn’t affect our relationship: I am in love with my bicycle. Light, strong, reliable…rarely complains…it does expect me to do all the work, but that just makes it more adorable and in any case, its for my own good…

Nefta at noon

Fatma Boucaina, her brother? and her crafts

Then the road got considerably worse: gravel with a spray-coat. The Tunisian border control was somewhat annoying but perfunctory. They thought the Algerians might require that I engage a guide, and noted that I had only 6 days left on my Algerian visa, but I said “No problem, I’m just going to find a truck to take me south to Tamanrasset and I’ll be out of Algeria in no time”. Basically, I lied.

The Algerian border post was 4 km down the (very rough) road, and there I was finally stopped cold. Despite what the Algerian embassy had told me repeatedly before the trip, tourists would under no circumstances pass without a guide. I wasn’t sure if this was a shake-down or the facts, so I got the Algerian embassy on the phone and asked them to speak to the head of the border control (who, I might add, was pretty amazed to be put on the phone with Washington, DC). The bottom line was this: the Algerian embassy didn’t have a clue. The law had been on the books for 2 years or 4 years, depending on who I talked to.

I thought: “This is bad.”

I was told to go back to Gafsa, Tunisia and get a visa extension, but I told them it was a three day journey by bicycle and completely out of the question. They told me to call a guide from Tamanrasset, who could come and get me. I told them I had no contacts in Tamanrasset. They said: “Then wait”. Some Italians were expected in the afternoon or possibly in the morning, and perhaps, in-shallah, their guide would take me with them. It seemed…awfully tenuous. On the other hand, I had no choice. So I waited all that afternoon through sunset, chatting occasionally with the border officials, eating some food I had with me, until it got pitch dark, and I found a slab to sleep on. I did not sleep.

Algerian border post at Hazoua

Wolf Gaudlitz

Within 3 or 4 hours, we had both been fully processed at the border, Ahmed the guide had arrived, Ahmed had taken official responsibility for my well-being, the bike was loaded in Wolf’s truck, and we were on our way to El Oued. I was in. My bicycle trip was clearly over for now, but I was in.

Near Touggourt, friends had arranged a cook-out on a new palm Plantation amid the dunes of the Grand Erg Orientale, and we stopped for several hours to grill meat, and talk and eat. Wolf’s truck was immediately mired in the sand, and he spent most of the time letting the air out of his tires, moving the truck, and then re-inflating the tires. I helped where possible, but the joke remained that Wolf was a slave to his machine. The work literally took him hours.

Lunch in the Grand Erg Orientale

Touggourt at night

My respect and admiration for these people grow, and my severe embarrassment at some of the shortcomings of our own culture swells equally. Frankly, they are my own personal shortcomings, not even something vaguely “cultural”. I try to imagine the reception Mohammed might have were his truck to breakdown in Acton, United States, and while I could imagine extending some small kindnesses I could equally imagine suspicion, an encounter with the police, a very large tow truck bill, an even larger repair bill, and if he was inordinately lucky and I wasn’t late for work, a ride to the Concordian motel. Before this trip and maybe still, it is unimaginable to me that I would take a stranger in, personally see to his well-being, and take on the financial burdens of his unfortunate circumstances in the manner that Mohammed took care of Wolf.

written by  roel krabbendam on January 10, 2007 from Touggourt, Algeria
from the travel blog: Harmattan
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In Ghardaia, Ahmed approached a waiting pickup truck, and for 200 Dinar (2 Euro), the bicycle and all my junk was schlepped off to Ahmed’s house where I spent the night on a mattress in his living room. In the morning, baguette and coffee. Ahmed answered my list of questions:
1. Could I move freely without a guide? Yes, within the M’zab valley.
2. Could I move outside the valley alone? No.
3. Could I prolong my visa? Yes, at the Commissariat de Police, but I need photos.
4. I have photos.
5. How do I get to Tamanrasset? By bus, leaving daily, no guide required.
6. Where do I stay for a few days while I explore the area? He had a place in mind.
7. How to get to this party on Saturday, 120 km from here? He would arrange it.

I paid Ahmed 6000 Dinar for 2 days of service, plus an extra 1000 Dinar to express my thanks for his help and generosity. He found another pickup truck, delivered me to a friend with a kind of hotel in the palm Plantation outside Ghardaia, and left me to my own devices.

Chez Said

'Hamed

When asked if they had slept together, he said “Yes, but only in Switzerland. Never here”. He showed me her picture, a wonderfully normal looking girl in T shirt and jeans with dyed red hair sitting on a hay wagon on a summer day in Switzerland. She is looking away.

We are listening to Nina Simone on the stereo, her version of “I’ll Put a Spell on You” reducing us to silence. ‘Hamed pokes a bit at the fire and says finally, “The girls around here just don’t understand this kind of music”. He is haunted by the possibility of a life in Switzerland, haunted by his love for the desert and the fact that she will not live here, haunted even by the possibility that his life will always be thus: haunted by “what ifs” and “wouldn’t it be wonderfuls”; haunted, I suppose, by his own desires.

We are joined by a friend of Said, a 47 year old guy in sports management who organized the 6th annual “Marathon des Dunes” here in Ghardaia. He has been married 22 years and has 4 kids and speaks openly of his very occasional affairs with younger women, showing me proudly on his “portable” the picture of a 29 year old professor in Algiers who isn’t his latest conquest, but who remains in his heart. His latest girlfriend is 19, he says.

I ask him how this is all arranged, with so many women closed off and protected. “Ahhh…”, and his eyes alight and he offers a secret smile to communicate his command of the issue. “One simply needs an emissary”.

“A man has a wide open heart, and a woman’s heart is closed very tightly: this is nature. So it is that the man invites into his heart so many people: to fill his heart. Think into the past, of a time when you loved more than one woman, and you will understand that it is true”. My admission that I had once juggled two girlfriends in college satisfied him immensely.

Example of Mohammed's carving

'Hamed