BFF part two

The welcome screen that plays before each set of films.

Day two of the Bicycle film festival in Portland was fun, fun, fun. The films were inspiring (The Way Bobby Sees It) exciting (Fast Friday, Macaframa), educational (The Six-Day Bicycle Races), to name a select few. Most fit into the "exciting" category.

Check out the energy in the crowd:



Sadly, I had expected an even stronger response to the whole shebang in progressive, bikey Portland. The BFF's presence in PDX had been stronger in the past. I spoke Zoe Schack, the promoter, about setting things up in Portland this year and last:



And it was a really fun event, but it could have been funner. Brendt Barbur, the "father" of the festival, told me how well it's been doing since its inception:



Maybe with a promoter on the ground in Portland, they'll do better next year. Better yet, maybe we can bring it to Eugene; the town is smaller, but I feel the cycling community is more tightly knit here. There's so much crossover between the commuters, racers, fixed-gear riders, hippie cruisers and such, it would be easy to sell out the Bijou. Not to mention the connection between cyclists and artists here...

If you're so inclined, check out the Bicycle Film Festival contact page and make something beautiful happen.

the big ride and the BFF in PDX

Finally, pictures of the ride from Eugene to Portland.

I made it on the road Thursday, around 11:30 a.m. Took Chambers north as it turned into River Road, intending to wind my way North on country roads with wide shoulders and light traffic.

Not far from Eugene, a somber warning:

Hard to tell whether it's a memorial for somebody who died on the side of the road or something less specific; just, "Help," in general.

Then, another sign:

Oregon's farms need saving.

And another sign:

"Country Coach, The World's Finest Motorcoaches." In Junction City, Oregon. Stopped to consider my fine non-motor-coach and call Liam, who used to work there and had a birthday that day.

Yet another sign:

Own a piece of Kaufman Sheet Metal history, in truck form. It's "Four Sail." Ha.

What do all these signs end up telling us?

Ride a bike, like this guy:

Passing through Albany, I stopped three twenty-somethings — well-dressed, professional-looking — for directions. They admitted they were somewhat lost themselves, and couldn't tell me how to get on the right track. The next person I saw was this guy with the bikeE. He told me exactly how to get where I wanted to be.

"You're already going the right way. Just follow this road over the bridge."

[pause for dramatic effect]

He also told me a little about himself. He's from the area and used to work on a cherry farm. He has three bikes, but rides this one the most. He also pointed out the full moon.

It tempted me to ride through the night, but reason and weakness prevailed over passion and by seven or so I arrived at my mother's friend's house in Salem.

Salem's most fashionable address and home to Anne and Jim, librarians both. This photo is from the morning after. Martin's bike stayed the night in the garage, and it even had two hosts of its own.

I imagined they might have some sort of little bikey tea party in there or something.

Setting out Friday morning, I checked the odometer.

Seventy-eight-point-seven miles. Eight hours. Less than 10 mph. Sigh.

I made Newberg by noon, and it was raining cold and heavy. I ducked into a coffee shop to warm myself and see if the precipitation would lighten. It did, but I was still very cold. Here's me and the bike in full rain mode:

Martin will be pleased to see I did indeed cover his Brooks saddle with a plastic bag.

At this point, I wanted to get to Portland, tout de suite. I gave up on pretty, peaceful side roads and jumped on 99W. It wasn't the flattest way:

But it was straight and simple, and I didn't have to check the map once. Despite the rain, I had a strong tailwind and fierce determination, and I averaged about 23 mph, officially entering Portland before 1:30.

Felt strange riding in traffic, stopping for lights after so many miles of nonstop spinning. It was almost two when I arrived at Powell's books on 10th and Oak. One has not truly arrived in Portland until one sees Powell's.

Bryan, my friend and official photographer, works at Half & Half, a coffee shop not a block away. He came out to snap the photo for me. Afterward, I followed him inside for a tea and paganini.

I examined my gear. Everything was fine, but after 136 miles strapped to the front rack, the back of my messenger bag was covered in road grime.

After regrouping, we hustled over to Cinema 21 for the big event!

This fella knew how to show up in style:

He makes all that lumi-wear himself. Check out his page for more pictures and info.

Bryan took some pictures for me. They'll be up soon.

After the show, Michelle met us next door at Muu Muu for beers.

Marcus met us at Michelle's afterward to keep the party going with some sweet tunes.
This was around two or three in the morning.

This a.m., we crossed the river to catch a bite at the Screen Door. They make great Bloody Marys.

Leaving breakfast, we happened across this custom fabrication.

It appears to be a sun-and-human-powered urban anti-hunger vehicle.

The rear features viewable battery access, a trailer, and, bittersweetly, a for sale sign.

The same craftsman seems to have fashioned the fender for this commuter, parked nearby.

Impressive DIY stuff. Now back to Cinema 21 for day two of the BFF!

Victory!

Having tea and panini at Half & Half on 10th & Oak, by Powell's. In
Portland. 136 miles.

Where am I already?

Friends in Portland are asking me for an ETA and I'm hiding from the
rain inside Neil's Java Jungle in what seems to be downtown Newberg.

Unless it starts snowing, I'm gonna hit the road as soon as I wolf
down this breakfast croissant.

Stylishly sidelined in Salem

Didn't quite get the early start I was hoping to get for the big ride today; "complications" kept me off the road until 11:30.

I was passing through Albany when it became clear I would have to choose between riding the rest of the way by moonlight, sleeping under a bridge or making some phone calls.

My mother found me a bed at her co-worker's house in Salem. It's warm and has a shower and Wi-Fi. It would have been super-hardcore to ride by the light of the full moon, but I could have been super-roadkill, too.

As for sleeping under a bridge, I figure I'll have plenty of other opportunities to try that in the future, and there's no need to try too many new things at once. I'm already undertaking a ride four times as long as any other I've done; better to savor one adventure at a time.

Although the computer on Martin's bike tells me I averaged 13.9 miles per hour, the old "d=r*t" formula tells me I barely broke nine (about 75 miles in eight hours). Why? I kept stopping to use the "bathroom" or take a picture.

Oh well. A nice ride tomorrow morning, and the whole afternoon to goof around P-town before the festival.

Next time, I'll pack a helmet cam and a catheter. Then maybe I'll make the one-day century club.

ten things I love about my job

In order of appearance today, December 10:

1.) I bike to work. On the way, I saw this at the community supported graffitti wall:

Without a thought, I stopped, parked, crossed the street and took a photo. Back in the saddle in under a minute. No other, detour-friendly way to get to work in eleven minutes. Except maybe one of those little scooters with a weed-whacker motor.

2.) I deliver food:

Look at that gorgeous bag of gourmet rice.

3.) I deliver a lot of it:

Here we see the mighty Tri-hauler, loaded with twenty-eight 25-pound bags of rice, beans, quinoa and oats. Fully loading the bike to 700 pounds makes it especially slow and visible, and the comments-from-strangers quotient pretty much doubles.

4.) I notice many lovely moments every day because I'm unenclosed:

At a red light, this girl tidily removed her jacket and packed it into a strap. Time to spare, she adjusted her hair. Talk about style points.

5.) I randomly interact with random people:

Almost every day, I pause for a moment to give directions or something. Today, I stopped to help this fella pump up his rear tire. He was still late to class, but really appreciated the help. It cost me a minute, but gave me an opportunity to reach out to someone in the community. It's good karma, helps keep a good thing going and bolsters the shop's reputation. And I still averaged over 350 pounds an hour for the route.

6.) I work outside:

It's hard to see, but inside the Hummingbird Wholesale warehouse is another Tri-hauler: the one owned by HW and driven by Anthony, a private pedaler-for-hire. Unable to pull the PedEx Tri' inside as well, I pulled the stock cart outside to load up. It was a chilly 53 degrees and windy, but, still warm from the ride back, I gulped the sweet air and smiled at the sun.

7.) I vacation:

I've been working hard enough that the shop will survive without me for two work days, and I'm riding to Portland for the Bicycle Film Festival. Here, I trade the Silver Bullet for Martin's touring rig. He rode it across the country last summer, so, for the bike, this "epic ride" will seem like a quick jaunt.

Okay, so that last one doesn't really fit in with the list. Nor will the rest. Here are three more pictures:

8.) Martin's bike was equipped with SPD clipless pedals, while my shoes have Crankbrothers cleats. I thought it would be easy enough to swap his pedals for mine, but after about 5,000 miles, his were pretty much glued on. So I compromised:

Garrett loaned me SPD cleats to put on my shoes. Here's what they look like halfway through the swap. The bottom (right) shoe still has a Crankbrothers (eggbeater) cleat, while the top (left) shoe has the SPD.

This, only days after I'm finally accustomed to the operation of the eggbeaters. Clipping in feels a little different, perhaps more mechanical, less organic. It may be a bit easier. Clipping out definitely takes more force, which almost caused a very low-speed crash after an initial test ride.

9.) Martin's bike is really neat:

Front and rear rack, panniers, double water bottle cages, triple-wrapped handlebars, brifters and leather saddle. Panniers are probably the best feature for taking the load off my back.

I was shocked when, arriving home, panniers loaded, I tried to hoist the top-tube onto my shoulder to climb the front steps (does not work). Also, I would have liked to raise the handlebars to match the saddle height, but the fancy threadless-headset stem requires spacers I don't have. Maybe I'll try another bike:

10.) Roadmaster Rainbow.

Maybe not.