{
edited to add: There is now also a full review of this bicycle, written after 6 months of ownership}
I've now gone on my first proper ride on the
Rivendell Sam Hillborne - 25 miles or so. I include some quick pictures of this glorious bicycle, but I am not entirely finished setting it up yet - so I will save the glamour shots and detailed close-ups for when it is complete. For now, here is a first ride report.
The build is fairly classic, with long distance riding in mind. I will go into excruciating detail about all the components in a later post - but if you have a specific question, feel free to ask. Of course I know what some of you are thinking right about now: "Gee, couldn't she get that stem to extend any higher?" So I will explain that the giraffine stem extension is to get me used to the drop bars. Because I have a short torso, I am practically lying down across the top tube in order to keep my hands on the "hoods" of the handlebars unless I have the stem extended this high. I might need to think of a more elegant solution, but not sure what can be done. I do not like the look of the "dirt drop" stem, but perhaps I should rethink that.
This is a pretty accurate picture of the bicycle's proportions, as well as of its size in relation to my body. I am 5'7". The bicycle is a 52cm frame with 650B wheels. Other than the strained handlebar reach, it's a perfect fit.
The biggest challenge I anticipated with this bicycle was riding with drop bars. As I've mentioned before, I was determined to learn to ride with these handlebars "properly". In the picture above I have my hands on the "hoods" of the brake levers, which is a position that allows both a semi-upright posture and braking. The drop bar hand positions are like nothing I had tried before, and the dynamics are very foreign to me. Controlling the bicycle feels so different, that I do not even know how to describe the sensation. It is as if my very concept of "handlebars" had to be discarded. If you've ridden with drop bars all your life, you probably don't understand what the big deal is - but for someone new to it, holding these bars can feel counter-intuitive and scary.
Having said that, I was surprised at how quickly I grew comfortable with the drop bars in the course of the ride. After the first mile, I loosened my death grip on the hoods and began to trust that the brakes would work when pressed from the top. After the second mile, I began to move my hands around a bit by sliding them along the bars - never venturing too far from the brakes. A couple of miles later, I was able to change positions freely and to take my left hand off the bars entirely.
The one thing I still cannot do is shift. The bar end shifters are so far down, that I do not feel confident enough yet to reach there with my right hand while cycling. But next time, learning to shift will be my main task.
Once I grew used to the handlebars and relaxed, I was able to pay attention to the ride quality itself - and it was ...amazing. Where to start? First of, there was a miraculous lack of pressure on any specific part of my body. No feeling of pressure on the hands despite being leaned over, and not much pressure on the butt either. Where does the pressure go?.. Is it all on the feet and I was pedaling extra hard without knowing it? Or is it so well distributed between hands and butt that I feel it on neither? I wish I understood bicycle geometry better.
The other miraculous thing is that I can get full leg extension on this bicycle and still touch the ground with a toe when stopped. I am guessing that a combination of a semi-relaxed seat tube angle and low bottom bracket makes this possible. The geometry is perfect for someone like me, who wants to be able to touch the ground when stopped. Also perfect is the fact that it is impossible for my foot to hit the front wheel when turning on the
Hillborne - something that happens on my
Motobecane and other roadbikes I have tried.
Finally, the
Sam Hillborne is super stable and easy to balance - which I feel is not just due to the fat
Grand Bois Hetre tires, but to the frame design itself. Cornering is especially delightful, because the bicycle feels both responsive and stable, a combination I have never experienced together. I imagined that my first ride would be very slow and very careful, just trying to get used to the drop bars and the diamond frame without falling. Instead, I soon began to pass people and to enjoy the turns in the road, feeling safe and perfectly balanced.
At the end of my 25 mile ride, I felt that I was just beginning to warm up and was now ready for "the real ride". And that, more anything, sums up what the
Sam Hillborne feels like and what it was designed for. Don't be fooled by the good looks: This is an amazingly capable and comfortable bicycle, and I am happy that I have gone from being too scared to touch it (
Harris Cyclery can attest to this!) to riding it in the way it was intended to be ridden. I still have a way to go before the drop bars and diamond frame become second nature to me, but I am looking forward to the learning experience.
Oh, and the bicycle's name is Graham. If you can guess why, then you probably already know his last name as well.
The macarons at Laduree are of course no better than the everyday normal macaron’s sold on the streets of Paris. People flock here like seagulls, mostly tourists, because of the brand. Everyone wants to savour the Laduree macaron (or cakes) and sit in the café. Including us haha.
Long line at the patisserie.
Arc de Triomphe on Champs-Elysees.
Inside Laduree patisserie.
Arc de Triomphe and traffic at night.
Exit Glacier. So close, yet so far away.
Two miles from the glacier the road was barricaded and a Ranger was directing traffic to the nearby trail parking lot. She said that there had been a tremendous amount of rain the past month over the glacier. It had gotten over 12 inches of rain on each of two different days! The glacier deposits silt in the river and as water comes down it carves new channels to get through that silt.
The Alaska Railroad runs between the highway and Turnagain Arm.
To the Southeast.
And the Southwest.
And the West.
Fantastic!
In describing my experience in a paceline training ride earlier, I had written that my Rivendellwas not the right bike for that ride. Subsequently, I've received some suggestions for how to make it faster - including getting narrower tires, installing "brifters," removing the saddlebag, rack and fenders, and stripping off the dynamo lighting. While I appreciate the advice and agree that all of that may indeed improve my paceline performance, I do not plan to make any changes to this bicycle. Right now, I have a bicycle that is perfectfor me as a touring bike. Why turn something that's perfect for one activity into something that's okay but not ideal for another?
In stating that my Rivendell was not the right bike for a racing team-sponsored paceline ride, I was by no means criticising it or expressing unhappiness with it. I was merely reiterating a simple fact: Touring bikes are not racing bikes. 
A touring bicycle is about exploration and about experiencing one's surroundings. You cannot do that when cycling 6" behind someone's rear wheel at 20mph. 
A touring bike is about the long haul and about going at one's own pace.I use the computer as a handlebar-mounted clock and odometer more than I use it as a speedometer - because "how far" is a more interesting question for this bike than "how fast."
A touring bike is about the freedom of going anywhere, without having to cultivate the handling skills of a pro racer. Comfortable geometry and stable handling enable novice and experienced cyclists alike to ride. My bicycle is easy, and its wide, cushy tires make me immune to most of the fears that plague cyclists on modern roadbikes: potholes, rain, sand, uneven terrain - bring them on. I can even wear nice clothing while I'm at it, because the fenders will protect me from road grime. And with my bright, dynamo-generated lights I can cycle through the night and not worry about batteries.
A touring bike is a home away from home. In my saddlebag, on the day this picture was taken I carried: a large DSLR camera, a sweater, a hat, an apple, a notebook, a fountain pen, a bar of chocolate, a saddle cover, gloves, sunscreen, a lock and a mini pump. And that's nothing compared to what I could have brought had I also attached my handlebar bag. Setting off on a racing bike limits you to a training ride and nothing more. On a touring bikea ride can start out as one thing and morph into another. Groceries can be involved, or a spontaneous visit to a friend's house. Who knows!
Riding a touring bike is an organic experience. My Rivendell'ssteel, brass, canvas, leather, twine, shellac and rubber fit harmoniously with its riding style and with my enjoyment of exploring nature. It is not about competing with nature with ever-more-efficient materials and aerodynamic postures, but about simply existing.
In turning this bicycleinto a performance-oriented bike, I would essentially be giving up the very things that make it special. And that would be a shame.
Sure, we may be curious about pacelines and racing.
But not at the expense of smelling the flowers. Some bicycles are perfect just the way they are.
