Stefan Mikes
Well-Known Member
- Region
- Europe
- City
- Mazovia, Poland
Taylor57
Well-Known Member
What is wonderful about guys and gals like us sharing pics and info is tremendous:
I clicked on another wonderful David Berry pic and my headphones exploded randomly with Jackson Brown These Days. (try it you will like it)
Taylor57
Well-Known Member
Then, outa nowhere, Counting Crows showed up w Mr Jones, I am dead ass serious, see thats why Berry is in top 3!
RabH
Well-Known Member
Almost identical conditions as my last ride on Wednesday, strong gusty wind from the west once again, no problem this time though as I had my spare battery with me! 
I started with my old battery and deliberately ran it down to 23% and changed to my new battery for the return journey into the 30mph headwind, active mode all the way home which sure put a big smile on my face!
Stormy weekend ahead now, especially tomorrow with 60mph winds!
I now wish I had purchased a spare battery when I got the bike! I had to carry my spare in my backpack (which actually went ok) as my brand new trunk bag had a faulty zip so I returned it, waiting for the replacement any day now! I even managed to stay dry again, I did think about getting my feet wet at this flood but I remembered the last time I did that on this road and it was up to my axles, so I bottled it
no wet feet today!
I started with my old battery and deliberately ran it down to 23% and changed to my new battery for the return journey into the 30mph headwind, active mode all the way home which sure put a big smile on my face! Stormy weekend ahead now, especially tomorrow with 60mph winds!I now wish I had purchased a spare battery when I got the bike!
I had to carry my spare in my backpack (which actually went ok) as my brand new trunk bag had a faulty zip so I returned it, waiting for the replacement any day now! I even managed to stay dry again, I did think about getting my feet wet at this flood but I remembered the last time I did that on this road and it was up to my axles, so I bottled it no wet feet today!Attachments
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Stefan Mikes
Well-Known Member
- Region
- Europe
- City
- Mazovia, Poland
That was exactly the reason I was buying the spare battery for each of my e-bikes as soon as I could afford it, and the battery was availableI now wish I had purchased a spare battery when I got the bike!
It was precisely the cold season when I appreciated the ability to ride farther against strong cold winds with more assistance. Interestingly, the warm season made it possible to ride 50 mile (or even longer) rides on a single battery, with the spare taken mostly to relieve the range anxiety. In the cold season, I assume my single battery is good for some 55 km.If I carry the spare, it is always the Ortlieb Bike-Packer Classic pannier with Ortlieb Commuter Inserts on the rear rack. I found carrying the heavy battery in my large Ortlieb Vario backpack (with Ortlieb Commuter Inserts) impractical. The 4+ kg EnergyPak plus the weight of the backpack is too much for me...
One pannier holding the spare battery, while the other used for tools, water bottles, and extra clothes.
@RabH, try to ride more on your battery #2 to possibly equalise the number of charging cycles on both batteries.
D
Deleted member 18083
Guest
Stefan…
It's time to start saving your pennies for a kickstand!
…David
It's time to start saving your pennies for a kickstand!
…David
RabH
Well-Known Member
Its definitely harder in the colder weather, last winter I managed around 24 x 50 mile+ rides with the single battery, at times it was hard going in the strong winds so it will be good not having range anxiety this time around! #2 battery will only be carried for 50+ mile rides, anything under 50 (unless its very windy) is manageable with a single battery!That was exactly the reason I was buying the spare battery for each of my e-bikes as soon as I could afford it, and the battery was available
If I carry the spare, it is always the Ortlieb Bike-Packer Classic pannier with Ortlieb Commuter Inserts on the rear rack. I found carrying the heavy battery in my large Ortlieb Vario backpack (with Ortlieb Commuter Inserts) impractical. The 4+ kg EnergyPak plus the weight of the backpack is too much for me...
View attachment 70097
One pannier holding the spare battery, while the other used for tools, water bottles, and extra clothes.
@RabH, try to ride more on your battery #2 to possibly equalise the number of charging cycles on both batteries.
Stefan Mikes
Well-Known Member
- Region
- Europe
- City
- Mazovia, Poland
No way! Not in the e-MTB! Kickstand? No, Nay, Never! I might consider a front mudguard, though
(Dropper post doesn't take the rear fender).
Readytoride
Well-Known Member
- Region
- USA
- City
- Virginia
It was a MAMB day yesterday. As in a "Me And My Bike" kinda day. Just the two of us out for a cathartic amble through a wind swept, rain washed countryside still shaking off the watery remnants of the latest Greek named hurricane that had plowed through the northeast the day before, rushing across the land in an accelerated, self imposed death march to seek its own watery grave, all alone, in the same ocean where it had been born only weeks prior. The hurricane was in such a hurry that it left behind some of its winds, those winds not swift enough to keep up with the rest, the distracted winds, the trailing winds that decided that rushing back into the Atlantic Ocean was just not on their agenda at the moment. So they stayed around, sightseeing the autumn scenery, meandering down the country roads kicking up the fallen leaves, and idly brushing cold fingers through the remaining leaves at the tops of the trees to see of they could tickle any leaf loose into a spiraling delicate freefall to the solid earth below.
The hurricane had also left some disgruntled clouds behind as well. Not that they weren't pretty, in a Vermeer sort of way. They were just...cold. And grumpy, having been swept up from the heated tropics to be unceremoniously hustled into a much colder climate than they would have preferred. And being left behind with some inconsequential winds that insisted upon poking around, having a bit of juvenile fun instead of sticking to the business of getting back to the ocean...well, it would make any self respecting cloud be out of sorts. So they wrapped themselves tightly in thick blanketed layers of gray, blocking out the sun, and glowered down on the landscape below as if it was the land's fault they were now barely making headway across the sky.
What one observes from the inside of a house window is often realised as merely wishful thinking once one is actually sitting on a bike outside, in the actual weather. I noticed I had failed to do my due diligence weatherwise moments into my first foray down my driveway, necessitating an abrupt return back up the driveway and into the house to grab a third jacket. The second foray got as far as 20 feet down the road before a return trip back up the driveway, again, this time for a pair of warm windbreaker pants over my tights. They say that "third times a charm" so my unprecedented, but not altogether unexpected, third retreat home to secure a second neck warmer sealed the deal. While my gps track resembled a bored person's doodled scribble up and down my driveway, logging a grand total of a half mile already, I deemed my erratic start simply an important resupply mission. Self preservation, if you will. I was going to freeze otherwise.
Finally, fully prepared against the cold lingering offspring of the now long departed hurricane, I was ready for a MAMB afternoon.
The grumpy clouds and the off-leash winds weren't inclined to be nice to a anyone seeking a casual outting, so I had the roads to myself. It was a shame, too, as the roads were beautiful, smoothed flat and very agreeable, decorated in multicolored leaves that were being unendingly arranged and rearranged by playful, artistic gusts of wind.
Autumn was on full display everywhere. As were pumpkins. Lots of pumpkins. Big ones, small ones, squat ones and round ones. Ones with stripes, one even with warts. Many sat proudly at the entrances of driveway, bright orange purveyors of the season. Some sat atop stone pillars, the best advantage point to be seen and admired by the passing public. There were pumpkins on porches, pumpkins on log piles. Pumpkins on top of other pumpkins. Pumpkins poised with colorful mums, and pumpkins residing on haybales. Apparently, at this time of year, the versatile pumpkin reigns supreme as the 'decor de jour'. I wonder how many will become pie come Thanksgiving...
My passage though the countryside was not without a ghostly encounter or two or three. At one bend in the road the winds that were keeping me company along my ride found sport in rushing over to send twisting and spinning a rather jocquil, albeit macabre, spirt hanging from a noose strung up a tree. The grinning apparition was one of many different fellows hanging from the arbors, and I stopped to admire the display just as a car trundled up the road intent upon getting to its destination without interruptions. It passed the ghostly display without even a glance, without any acknowledgement whatsoever in appreciation of the hilarious artistry and effort to entertain. I, on the other hand, gave silent applause to the tableau, and to the wind's impromptu efforts to create a live performance out of the static lineup of spooky characters.
Among the decorative ghosts, spirts, and assorted holiday vegetation populating the route, I happened across a virtual tsunami of logs destined to become firewood for the coming winter. The massive wave of logs dwarfed a man standing next to a noisy logsplitter. I stopped to watch him, and waved when he looked up at me. He tentatively waved back, obviously unsure of why I wanted to watch him, then resumed picking up a log at a time, and setting it in place to be split by his machine. He risked a glance at me again as I took his picture, catching him mid-throw of a newly split piece of firewood, and responded with a much more cheery wave to my happy "thanks and goodbye" one. I didn't want to guess how many days it would take him and his machine to render all those raw logs into organized cords of firewood. But...winter is coming. Soon enough.
Further down the road the noise drifted into oblivion and the silence returned to settle over the roads and grass and woodlands. My bike floated along on the smoothed gravel, making no sound at all. It was as if I had become a ghost myself, gliding through the quiet countyside, invisible except for a glance from a resting equine who happened to see the movement and turned curious eyes in my direction. He regarded me for a brief moment before returning to his slumber, his companion still asleep, both unmoving statues tucked into the warm leeward side of a nearby tree, tails turned to the winds.
A number of clouds, still morose and dispirited, had taken their grumpy demeanor and trundled on in the wake of the long departed hurricane, finally opening up bit of blue skies to add a dash of extra color to the landscape. I happened to glance up at the opening vista of blue overhead, and noticed nearby an old silo, once used for storing grain and other important crops for its farm. Now long abondoned by the farm, and even its own top blown away in some nameless storm eons back, it still found employment as both a satellite pole and a temporary perch for some bird in need of a rest or a place to sightsee the surrounding territory without obstruction. I imagine the view up there was spectacular, and the internet/TV reception outstanding.
Some of the routes I ride take me past fields that share this strange singular hillock. Generally they are placed alongside a stream, and very often are only one hill, rarely two. They aren't a natural feature, I've come to find out, but are reminders of the very distant past, sometime up to a thousand or more years ago when this land saw a very different culture of people in residence. People who slowly and methodically created a graveyard hill over the decades as they buried their dead. Those people, their cultures, are now extinct, forgotten except for brief mentions in history books, and these odd hills supplanted on a landscape that did not create them naturally. The small hills pass unnoticed now except for the ghosts that undoubtedly linger around the soft, gentle slopes this time of year.
The roads continue through the countside, winding their way through fields, past fences, taking precarious routes that offer the best views and most entrancing vistas. The wind keeps me company on my silent journey, sometimes gleefully tossing the fallen leaves into the air with complete abandon, allowing me to pedal through the blizzard of brown and gold leaves as if it was colorful falling snow. Periodically, throughout the ride, I debate removing my third jacket from my panniers and donning it over the two I'm wearing, but I had yet to reach the stage of "too cold to continue". Close, but not quite.
My pace, as slow and gentle as it was, inevitably brings my ride full circle, and soon enough I am on the hill above home, overlooking the mountains now dotted with more color as Autumn wrests the green from the land in lieu of golds and reds and sienna. The wind is still engaged in a merry game chasing and tossing the leaves all about me. It is reluctant to leave. The clouds, however, have departed, clearing the way for the temperatures to drop to below freezing in the wee hours. I stop for a moment to admire the view, and then step back on the bike for the final few pedals to reach home where I will then hustle to put the cold frame tops on the tender garden plants to have them prepared for the nighttime freeze, and put the thicker blankets on the horses to have them prepared as well.
The hurricane had also left some disgruntled clouds behind as well. Not that they weren't pretty, in a Vermeer sort of way. They were just...cold. And grumpy, having been swept up from the heated tropics to be unceremoniously hustled into a much colder climate than they would have preferred. And being left behind with some inconsequential winds that insisted upon poking around, having a bit of juvenile fun instead of sticking to the business of getting back to the ocean...well, it would make any self respecting cloud be out of sorts. So they wrapped themselves tightly in thick blanketed layers of gray, blocking out the sun, and glowered down on the landscape below as if it was the land's fault they were now barely making headway across the sky.
What one observes from the inside of a house window is often realised as merely wishful thinking once one is actually sitting on a bike outside, in the actual weather. I noticed I had failed to do my due diligence weatherwise moments into my first foray down my driveway, necessitating an abrupt return back up the driveway and into the house to grab a third jacket. The second foray got as far as 20 feet down the road before a return trip back up the driveway, again, this time for a pair of warm windbreaker pants over my tights. They say that "third times a charm" so my unprecedented, but not altogether unexpected, third retreat home to secure a second neck warmer sealed the deal. While my gps track resembled a bored person's doodled scribble up and down my driveway, logging a grand total of a half mile already, I deemed my erratic start simply an important resupply mission. Self preservation, if you will. I was going to freeze otherwise.
Finally, fully prepared against the cold lingering offspring of the now long departed hurricane, I was ready for a MAMB afternoon.
The grumpy clouds and the off-leash winds weren't inclined to be nice to a anyone seeking a casual outting, so I had the roads to myself. It was a shame, too, as the roads were beautiful, smoothed flat and very agreeable, decorated in multicolored leaves that were being unendingly arranged and rearranged by playful, artistic gusts of wind.
Autumn was on full display everywhere. As were pumpkins. Lots of pumpkins. Big ones, small ones, squat ones and round ones. Ones with stripes, one even with warts. Many sat proudly at the entrances of driveway, bright orange purveyors of the season. Some sat atop stone pillars, the best advantage point to be seen and admired by the passing public. There were pumpkins on porches, pumpkins on log piles. Pumpkins on top of other pumpkins. Pumpkins poised with colorful mums, and pumpkins residing on haybales. Apparently, at this time of year, the versatile pumpkin reigns supreme as the 'decor de jour'. I wonder how many will become pie come Thanksgiving...
My passage though the countryside was not without a ghostly encounter or two or three. At one bend in the road the winds that were keeping me company along my ride found sport in rushing over to send twisting and spinning a rather jocquil, albeit macabre, spirt hanging from a noose strung up a tree. The grinning apparition was one of many different fellows hanging from the arbors, and I stopped to admire the display just as a car trundled up the road intent upon getting to its destination without interruptions. It passed the ghostly display without even a glance, without any acknowledgement whatsoever in appreciation of the hilarious artistry and effort to entertain. I, on the other hand, gave silent applause to the tableau, and to the wind's impromptu efforts to create a live performance out of the static lineup of spooky characters.
Among the decorative ghosts, spirts, and assorted holiday vegetation populating the route, I happened across a virtual tsunami of logs destined to become firewood for the coming winter. The massive wave of logs dwarfed a man standing next to a noisy logsplitter. I stopped to watch him, and waved when he looked up at me. He tentatively waved back, obviously unsure of why I wanted to watch him, then resumed picking up a log at a time, and setting it in place to be split by his machine. He risked a glance at me again as I took his picture, catching him mid-throw of a newly split piece of firewood, and responded with a much more cheery wave to my happy "thanks and goodbye" one. I didn't want to guess how many days it would take him and his machine to render all those raw logs into organized cords of firewood. But...winter is coming. Soon enough.
Further down the road the noise drifted into oblivion and the silence returned to settle over the roads and grass and woodlands. My bike floated along on the smoothed gravel, making no sound at all. It was as if I had become a ghost myself, gliding through the quiet countyside, invisible except for a glance from a resting equine who happened to see the movement and turned curious eyes in my direction. He regarded me for a brief moment before returning to his slumber, his companion still asleep, both unmoving statues tucked into the warm leeward side of a nearby tree, tails turned to the winds.
A number of clouds, still morose and dispirited, had taken their grumpy demeanor and trundled on in the wake of the long departed hurricane, finally opening up bit of blue skies to add a dash of extra color to the landscape. I happened to glance up at the opening vista of blue overhead, and noticed nearby an old silo, once used for storing grain and other important crops for its farm. Now long abondoned by the farm, and even its own top blown away in some nameless storm eons back, it still found employment as both a satellite pole and a temporary perch for some bird in need of a rest or a place to sightsee the surrounding territory without obstruction. I imagine the view up there was spectacular, and the internet/TV reception outstanding.
Some of the routes I ride take me past fields that share this strange singular hillock. Generally they are placed alongside a stream, and very often are only one hill, rarely two. They aren't a natural feature, I've come to find out, but are reminders of the very distant past, sometime up to a thousand or more years ago when this land saw a very different culture of people in residence. People who slowly and methodically created a graveyard hill over the decades as they buried their dead. Those people, their cultures, are now extinct, forgotten except for brief mentions in history books, and these odd hills supplanted on a landscape that did not create them naturally. The small hills pass unnoticed now except for the ghosts that undoubtedly linger around the soft, gentle slopes this time of year.
The roads continue through the countside, winding their way through fields, past fences, taking precarious routes that offer the best views and most entrancing vistas. The wind keeps me company on my silent journey, sometimes gleefully tossing the fallen leaves into the air with complete abandon, allowing me to pedal through the blizzard of brown and gold leaves as if it was colorful falling snow. Periodically, throughout the ride, I debate removing my third jacket from my panniers and donning it over the two I'm wearing, but I had yet to reach the stage of "too cold to continue". Close, but not quite.
My pace, as slow and gentle as it was, inevitably brings my ride full circle, and soon enough I am on the hill above home, overlooking the mountains now dotted with more color as Autumn wrests the green from the land in lieu of golds and reds and sienna. The wind is still engaged in a merry game chasing and tossing the leaves all about me. It is reluctant to leave. The clouds, however, have departed, clearing the way for the temperatures to drop to below freezing in the wee hours. I stop for a moment to admire the view, and then step back on the bike for the final few pedals to reach home where I will then hustle to put the cold frame tops on the tender garden plants to have them prepared for the nighttime freeze, and put the thicker blankets on the horses to have them prepared as well.
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D
Deleted member 18083
Guest
R2R …
A wonderful story, beautifully told. Thank you for sharing your adventures with your fascinated followers from around the world.
… David
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Readytoride
Well-Known Member
- Region
- USA
- City
- Virginia
Thank you. I'm glad to hear you enjoy my literary rambles. It is fun to write for this forum.
D
Deleted member 18083
Guest
Concrete and glass …
Apart from a scattering of mangroves, has nature been banished? The sky remains and the river survives, albeit constrained until it breaks free every few decades in what the media insist on calling a once-in-a-millennium flood. (Sounds dramatic.)
It's difficult to pick out the riverside bike path as it skirts the city centre beneath the motorway switchback which is why I usually hug the opposite bank which is given over to parkland and large cultural buildings (museum, art galleries, state library and performing arts centre). Of course, such venues attract tourists who walk backwards across the riverside cycleway while take selfies… well, that's what it was like in times past. It's all for the locals now.
Brisbane Central from South Bank
10.50 am
This year's locations for my ebike rides have been repetitive: country (with cows; occasionally camels), the coast (for a long time now without crossing the state border) and, as here, through the city (bike paths and motorways).10.50 am
Apart from a scattering of mangroves, has nature been banished? The sky remains and the river survives, albeit constrained until it breaks free every few decades in what the media insist on calling a once-in-a-millennium flood. (Sounds dramatic.)
It's difficult to pick out the riverside bike path as it skirts the city centre beneath the motorway switchback which is why I usually hug the opposite bank which is given over to parkland and large cultural buildings (museum, art galleries, state library and performing arts centre). Of course, such venues attract tourists who walk backwards across the riverside cycleway while take selfies… well, that's what it was like in times past. It's all for the locals now.
Dallant
Well-Known Member
- Region
- USA
Where is your spare? Backpack? Maybe you could try this...or something like it.Almost identical conditions as my last ride on Wednesday, strong gusty wind from the west once again, no problem this time though as I had my spare battery with me!
I now wish I had purchased a spare battery when I got the bike!
View attachment 70056
View attachment 70057
Here is my official spare battery carrier!
Since I’m getting a spare Bosch Powertube battery for some planned longer touring next year, I set to some brainstorming. I didn’t want to buy a huge pannier and I didn’t want a big spend as I probably won’t use it a ton. I also wanted something that had a dual purpose. I was looking for...
electricbikereview.com
Dallant
Well-Known Member
- Region
- USA
Who is they? Clearly not any cyclists.
Stefan Mikes
Well-Known Member
- Region
- Europe
- City
- Mazovia, Poland
Electro-Acoustic Guitar E-Bike Ride
There is a luthier by nickname of Witwa in Mazovia. He's the Grand Master of his craft. Yet he's a human, and he is... slow. Very slow. Suffice to say, my broken (that is, damaged) electro-acoustic Ibanez guitar had spent some six months at the shop until Witwa recollected he had it ready. I didn't mind: I didn't need that guitar in recent months; I just wanted to have it repaired/rebuilt someday. The luthier was very sorry; he kept the original repair price of some $127 (it's chicken money for the service) and he did incredible work on the guitar - it could be shown at some exhibition now and be played by Tommy Emmanuel with no regrets (I cannot show you the picture of the guitar right now because I want to take the photo in good lighting).
I agreed with Piotr to meet him at his place at 14:00 (sorry for the military time format, it is how we write it in Europe), and I rode out at 13:02. No stops on the ride, and it took me 49 minutes of moving time to reach Witwa's place. He was actually surprised to see me at two past meridiem sharp We exchanged pleasantries, he showed me photos of the guitar BEFORE and the actual guitar AFTER the overhaul. He asked me to play the guitar: I played three chords and was stunned with the sound quality and the feel of the reconstructed AEL40S-RLV. I paid him, we packed the instrument into backpack-hardcase and...
...I had to learn riding the bike with the case on my back!
"Daddy, daddy, I CAN RIDE!"
"Keep rollin', rollin', rollin'
Though the streams are swollen
Keep them doggies rollin', Rawhide!"
It was difficult to get on and off the bike. The real issue, however, was the long part of the case was constantly hitting my helmet! On the first stop, I loosened the backpack straps, put the goggles and gloves on and could conveniently ride back home.
The Endomondo sports tracker service has gone belly up and will be discontinued soon. I'm looking for a way to transfer the Endomondo workout history to Strava. And I started using Strava. Since Strava has no weather data, I'll just tell you it was 8 C (46 F), it was cloudy, and the wind was rather mild; no raining. Back to the winter clothing regime!
There is a luthier by nickname of Witwa in Mazovia. He's the Grand Master of his craft. Yet he's a human, and he is... slow. Very slow. Suffice to say, my broken (that is, damaged) electro-acoustic Ibanez guitar had spent some six months at the shop until Witwa recollected he had it ready. I didn't mind: I didn't need that guitar in recent months; I just wanted to have it repaired/rebuilt someday. The luthier was very sorry; he kept the original repair price of some $127 (it's chicken money for the service) and he did incredible work on the guitar - it could be shown at some exhibition now and be played by Tommy Emmanuel with no regrets
(I cannot show you the picture of the guitar right now because I want to take the photo in good lighting).I agreed with Piotr to meet him at his place at 14:00 (sorry for the military time format, it is how we write it in Europe), and I rode out at 13:02. No stops on the ride, and it took me 49 minutes of moving time to reach Witwa's place. He was actually surprised to see me at two past meridiem sharp
We exchanged pleasantries, he showed me photos of the guitar BEFORE and the actual guitar AFTER the overhaul. He asked me to play the guitar: I played three chords and was stunned with the sound quality and the feel of the reconstructed AEL40S-RLV. I paid him, we packed the instrument into backpack-hardcase and......I had to learn riding the bike with the case on my back!
"Daddy, daddy, I CAN RIDE!"
"Keep rollin', rollin', rollin'
Though the streams are swollen
Keep them doggies rollin', Rawhide!"
It was difficult to get on and off the bike. The real issue, however, was the long part of the case was constantly hitting my helmet! On the first stop, I loosened the backpack straps, put the goggles and gloves on and could conveniently ride back home.
The Endomondo sports tracker service has gone belly up and will be discontinued soon. I'm looking for a way to transfer the Endomondo workout history to Strava. And I started using Strava. Since Strava has no weather data, I'll just tell you it was 8 C (46 F), it was cloudy, and the wind was rather mild; no raining. Back to the winter clothing regime!
Stefan Mikes
Well-Known Member
- Region
- Europe
- City
- Mazovia, Poland
A friend has explained the expression to me Similar threads
- Deleted member 18083
- General Ebike Discussion
