Style

From the cozy Hotel Therme, we head south for about 20km to warm up. The route, the Strada Statale dello Stelvio (SS38), takes us through a series of long avalanche tunnels that protected not only our bikes, but our eyes. To return, we try the road running along side of the Flume Adda, the river that brings water down the mountain through Parco Nazionale dello Stelvio. This is far brighter and we get to see the small towns that dot the riverside. Once back through Bormio, the ascent begins. The big day is officially upon us. I’ve planned a shorter stretch so that we have maximum time to soak up the whole Stelvio experience.

The southwest ramp of Passo dello Stelvio is unjustifiably overlooked. While it is nowhere near the technical challenge that the northeast ramp is, it is still a beautiful, curvy road with plenty of visual interest and technical offering in the form of 39 tornante and beautiful avalanche galleries cut into the rock of the mountain. Near the top is a long flat run featuring uninhabited buildings and livestock. It is surprising to see the livestock at that height, but there are small grazing herds of more very curious cows.

We crest Stelvio and find the circus that is the top of the pass – several hotels, gift shops, and restaurants cater to the visitors braving the ascent. Surprisingly, the hotels charge only 45€ per night, both of us expected much higher prices due to location, and are slightly disappointed that we did not choose to stay up here. We do, however, spend nearly that on stickers and postcards.

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After orienting myself at the top, I identify that Umbrail Pass is only 1.5km and ten tornante away – I split off and ride back to find the pass marker. I’m also disappointed to find that the descent is closed. The gravel stretch of the pass is quite famous, but not accessible, thanks to the closure for road work.

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As we prepare to descend, we find two brand new F800GSs next to my bike, and two attending freshly-geared riders. Twittering away in German, we attempt to find out where they are from, as the bikes are clearly rentals. After a few minutes, we give up, and I switch to English. The two guys are from Grand Rapids, MI, and are quite familiar with my employer, having done work at both of our Michigan plants. Such a small world.

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The first step of the descent is looking down.

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A movie crew is filiming on Stelvio, and there are periodic closures. We are not affected, as we begin our descent prior to the most favorable light. After a rather unsettling miss with a lane-intruding Audi above the tree line, I decide to pull off and relax at the 46th tornant, forgetting there are only two more to go. I’m tense and unhappy with my riding, but in a good mood as I am still in one piece and so is the bike. My riding partner joins me a bit later and we decide to spend a bit of time in the attached park for lunch. We meet several Opel engineers doing engine testing, and ask one to take a photo of us with the sign for the tornant.

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Once we are finally down the pass safely, we make our way over to SS40 and up to the Reschenpass in Austria. The approach to the pass is beautiful, wide open, sweeping Kehren, but the pass itself is a certified “meh” after Stelvio. Prior to arriving at the actual pass sign, we stop at Lake Rescia to photograph the tower of a submerged church.

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We proceed north, finding this lovely stone arch, and continue on to Tönsens, a small, quaint town, where we find the Gasthof Wilder Mann. Wondering aloud why there is never a Gasthof Wilde Frau…. With dinner, we spend 54€ for the night.

Sunrise on the Flüela Pass is just as eerie as on Pordoi. We kit the bikes after a nice breakfast and set off on the 28 again towards Davos Dorf. Dörfli, actually. Davos is convinced it is not a famoous or exciting place. From Davos, we follow the Landwasserstrasse to Tiefencastle, where we join the 3 and begin the ascent to the Julierpass. We stop on the way up at the Marmorerasee, a retention lake that controls water flow down the assorted mountains and is filled with stunningly clear blue water.

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From the Marmorereasee, we continue to the Julier Pass. The ascent to Julier is beautiful with rolling scenery and gentle curves that lend a sense of fulfillment to the viewer. We arrive at the top and find a bicyclist willing to take our picture together. We join the 27 at Silvaplana and the 29 at Pontresina, then it is on to the Passo del Bernina, where I work hard to get the perfect shot. The mountains surrounding the Berninapass are very photogenic.

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Just past Baracon, we turn off onto the Forcola di Livigno, and proceed to the pass. We collect some cheese for later lunching from a tax-free shop at the pass, and while walking back up the hill, snap a postcard shot of why we ride GSs. Following the pass road, we make our way to the town of Livigno, where we tank up again and add a further 235.9km, for a total of 986,3km. We pick up SS301 southbound for the next planned pass: Passo di Foscagno.

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On the was to Passo di Foscagno, we are surprised by a small sign for Passo d’Eira. Not famous, not loved, but still counts!

From Passo d’Eire, we continue to Passo di Foscagno, and on to Bormio. We want to be fully rested and ready to attack Stelvio in the morning, hoping to beat the tourist traffic. Bormio has a spa and appears to have nice restaurants. We find many medieval buildings and small grottos as we search for food. Alas, Bormio has the day off on Tuesday, and we end up at the only open restaurant in town, the Bar Nuovo. The staff are quite helpful and happy to have customers. We spend the night at Hotel Therme, where there is time to relax, but, alas, no spa. It’s also closed. For Tuesday.

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The  landscape around the Hotel Savoia (which we highly recommend) is positively lunar as the sun rises. We are greeted by fog burning off outside, and a surprise guest inside – a fully-dressed Harley has joined us in the garage overnight. The garage functions as a ski rack in the winter time, when the mountains are covered with white stuff and skiers descend on them like flies on pigs. The openness to motorcycle tourism came about as the thousands of small guesthouses in the Alps discovered that the “off season” can also be profitable – riders flock to the passes as long as they are open, and with open wallets. Breakfast at the Savoia is well-covered, and we can’t say enough about this overnight, it will define accomodations for us for the remainder of the trip.

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We head out on SR48 and rejoin SS242 to go back over Passo Sella, this time with less traffic. The mountain views are breathtaking and we spend plenty of time checking out the peaks that bring so much fame to Sella.

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From Sella, we stay on the SS242 west to Ponte Gardena, where we pick up SS12 heading south to Bolzano. We join SS22 and find the three guys from the train and cows – some honking and waving and total shock that we actually did meet up go on. West of Bolzano, we pick up SS42 to Passo Mendola.  The approach to Passo Mendola is one of the most striking stretches we ride, with a stunning view of the valley below. For a long stretch, the narrow road clings to the side of the rockface and the mood is entirely surreal. The final group of tornante bring us to the town of Roen at the top of the pass, where we stop for coffee and to admire the views.

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In Fondo, we tank up (250.3kms, 750,4km total) and are berated by a Bavarian Ducatisto who wants us to know that there is no passing in Italy. Perhaps he should have told the Italians? We ask him to speak German as his dialect is so thick. We pick up SS238 north to Merano crossing the Passo Palade. I expect more from Merano, the spa no connisseur of spas can miss, but it is quickly past and we are into a transit stage that will take us up and west on SS38 to Prato. We have been riding parts of the Italian Wine Road since Bolzano, admiring the fruit orchards that line the road to within two meters of the fog line. We stop for a quick lunch, then ride on  with SS40 and SS41 (becomes 28) to the Ofenpass, where it is actually too warm to remain fully dressed.

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We finish the day at the top of the Flüelapass, where we discover Swiss prices. The Flüela Hospiz is as old as the pass and offers timely accomodations. This is a euphemism for out-of-date – we get a room with “washing possibility” – a sink – for 87€ each, including breakfast. Aside from the price and the warning to fully unpack the bikes and bring everything inside for the night, it is uneventful. Dinner is a welcome mix of traditional swiss Röstis and salad.

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I suppose it would be pointful to review the equipment.

Bike: one fully-factory-farkled 2004 BMW F650GS, 66K kms on the frame, ~25K on the 2006 GS engine purchased from ebay and installed a month earlier

Luggage: One Held tank bag with rain cover, three small Streetline drybags, and two BMW Vario boxes, one extended

Clothes: Three sets of functional liners – one warm polypro (Anzoni), one light polypro (Maier, star of the trip!), and one nylon running set with no leg zips (Nike/Alex). Six pair assorted socks, nine pair nylon underwear, six tshirts, one pair jeans, two fleeces, one pair shorts, one pair Nike Free original, one pair pyjama bottoms, one neoprene vest

Gear: Hein Gericke Grace GoreTex jacket and pants, HG City gloves, Louis silk glove liners, Polo Road warm gloves, Oxford hi-vis vest, Dainese GoreTex ladies boots, HJC RPHA-Max helmet

Electronics: Garmin nüvi 1435 navigation unit, GoPro Hero3 Silver camera, BlackBerry Torch smartphone, Nikon CoolPix S3000 camera, Midland BTNext commset, Hexcode GS911 interface, LG phablet thingy, assorted USB cables and chargers

Comments: The bike was great, only issue was a siezed centerstand pivot that caused a tipover and resulted in a seat tear. The luggage was just right. Too many socks, should have gone for fewer pairs but all synthetic. The Falke ski socks were perfect, three pair would have done it. More lighter-weight tshirts would have been better – the skinny hipster cap sleeve ts were the best ones. I could have gone without the heavy polypros, a second pair of the Maier set is being sought out now. Very light weight meant very washable and dry within hours. This alone could cut the space required quite a bit. The jeans were a must-have. Not having to wash underwear was nice.

The GoreTex outer gear worked perfectly. Absolutely the best decision of the planning phase was to go with textile over leather. Flexibility was fantastic thanks to the easily removeable liners. The (old) City gloves paired with the silk liners made the normal cold-weather gloves unnecessary. Even in heavy rain.

The Garmin nüvi unit worked (and continues to work) well, even for motorbiking. The routes were developed in BaseCamp and uploaded to a microSD card in the device, then installed as needed. One issue was identified with routes having multiple loops from a single point, the unit would attempt to shorten the route by cutting out loops. This should be minded by users. The GoPro (helmet-mounted) produced good, if not publishable, videos, due to the rider talking too much in her helmet. Thankfully, the GS911 and little LG phablet were not required, but took up so little space that it would be silly not to bring them. The BlackBerry had connectivity in nearly every place we went, allowing at a minimum email and BlackBerry Messenger communication. The little Nikon produced characteristically good pictures in all light levels. The BTNext unit was unused.

Overall comment would be to refine the clothing packing and the tool packing. I made a custom tool roll to pack only the tools I felt would be useful, but even this was likely too much. In a less redneck bike (see swapped motor above), I would be much more comfortable traveling with fewer tools. More GoPro locations will be explored.

If I’d guessed that I would end up sleeping on top of the Alps at one point, I would have never believed myself.

The sunrise in Linz is beautiful. Tucked into a mountain valley, we watch the sun fall over the farmyard prior to taking off from our feathery nest. We head west on the 100 toward San Candido, and in the process beginning a day that would end with nine passes surmounted. We cross into Italy, and on the Stata Stradale 52 (SS52),  meet the first pass of the day – the Kreuzberg Pass. For the most part, a basic pass that is surmounted without event. Turning off onto Strada Provinciale 532 (SP532), we ride over the Passo San Antonio and, on Strada Regionale 48 (SR48), the Passo Tre Croci without stopping – nothing to stop for, as the signs are almost invisible and there are no souvenier huts to buy stickers at. Yes, we collect stickers for every pass we can get them for. The fun really starts further along SR48 with the Passo di Falzarego, where we photobomb a bunch of Swiss guys  trying to take a group shot at the pass sign.

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From Falzarego, we head west on the north side of the Marmolade Group, to better see the peaks. Stunning from the road, for sure. We have our first experience with Italian fuel stations, which are not open normal hours and require use of an automat. 252,3kms for a total of 500,1kms. Figuring that out is so exhausting that we have to sit down and eat lunch. We turn south on SR203, then onto SP641. Next up is Passo Fedaia, with a beautiful view of a Stausee (retention lake) high up in the middle of the group. From Fedaia, we briefly rejoin SR48 and enter the venerable Sella Group on SR242, and meet the first real traffic of the trip.

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The Sella Group offers some of the most profound scenery of the entire trip. The terrain varies from gently rolling meadows to Martian landscapes. The first ascent is to Passo di Sella (Sellajoch), and is miserable with tourist busses. The traffic is very heavy and very unfun. When we halt at the top, we wait for a gap in busses before beginning the descent. We ride the rest of the Sella circuit clockwise, turning onto SS243 to ride through the Grödner Joch (Passo di Gardena), where we encounter a group of elderly tourists with an endless parade of questions, starting with “Why do your motorcycles have BMW stickers on them?”, “Are those real BMWs?”, “Did you ride those here all by yourselves?” and continuing on. After a few more, I inform the small crowd that all info on the bikes is available at their local BMW dealer.

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We ride on to SP244 over the Passo Campolongo (nothing to stop for), and finish the day on SR48 on top of Passo Pordoi after a quick 33 tornante ascent that counts as one of the highlights of the trip due to the absence of traffic, the road character, and the unusually curious cows penned at the roadside. We hole up in the Hotel Savoia for 50€ a head including breakfast, garage, and a four-course dinner. We highly recommend this hotel. Excellent service, food, and accessibility.

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Two chicks, two F650s, and two big dreams. Katherine, on an F650GSa single with an ebay engine that was installed a whole three weeks before the start, and Sabine, on a F650GS twin that she has owned from new, off to ride the Alps in a nine-day pass-bagging adventure that would check off entire bucket lists for some people. What started as a wish to see the Sella Group (Sabine) and a burning desire to run Stelvio (Katherine) ballooned into a trip that eventually included 2600kms, the weirdest train ride ever, and 36 Alpine passes. The trip actually started on Day 0, when we boarded the DeutscheBahn AutoZug in Düsseldorf with 37.4 miles on the trip odometer. Lined up at 20.00 or so, we were in a group of roughly 40 motorcyclists and 30 cars bound for München. The train also included a section going to Innsbruck – the vehicle carriers were separated in Munich so that the Innsbruck-bound passengers would not have to wait for unloading. Among the cars going to Munich were a group of British Elise enthusiasts who we would see and speak with again, and a group of three riders who we agreed (with a smile) to meet in Bolzano, as we were all headed there at one point in our journeys. Funny how everyone had similar itineraries… Düsseldorf-20130920-00638

The AutoZug is not for the faint of heart. The carriers are two-level and motorbikes live on the lower floor. The clearance is 1.56m, shorter than me. Motorcyclists attach tiedown straps to prefered points on their bikes, ride them in, and ride out after the trip. I rode in with my chin bar firmly pressed to my tank bag, and was warned to remove my GoPro from my helmet. Rats, I really wanted that on video, too. The DB crew moved in and secured the bikes with cleats front and rear and tiedowns. DSCN3947 IMG-20130921-00644 DSCN3939

We booked a compartment for ourselves – adding about 15€ per head to the ticket price. As we managed to get a pretty smoking deal on the tickets, this was a logical upgrade. 187€ total, including two passengers, two bikes, and two breakfasts. By booking the entire compartment, we did not have to deal with anyone else. Many groups had the same idea – the three guys were two cabins over. The changing in the hallway thing worked for them, but not us. On the other side was a group of five riders, also bound for the Alps, but east instead of west. DB equips the compartments with standard european power outlets, plenty of lights, good curtains, and these things that function as beds. It all adds up to a decent way to get some sleep and distance in, at least for what was going to be a transit stage anyway. I collected some additional items at the Bahnhof grocery store, and we tucked in for the night. DSCN3941   IMG-20130920-00639

Getting off the carrier is no worse than getting on. If you’re 2.2m tall and riding a GSA, it’s clearly not fun, but for short people on short bikes, it’s not that bad. Just don’t lift your head up. You exit the carrier into a deployment lot where the riders assemble and build up their bikes for the big trip. Any luggage carried into the cabin is remounted, and then it’s off on tour! We are the last out, as I wait for my riding partner to get her bike built. DSCN3959

Day 1 is planned to take us first to the Sudelfeldstrasse and Tatzelwurm, then to Kitzbühel, Saalfelden, and down the Grossglockener Hochalpenstrasse to Linz, Austria. We start off on the A8, southbound to the B307 and the Tatzelwurmstrasse. The Tatezlwurm consists of a few linked up Kehren, or switchbacks, but not much else. The scenery is pretty, though. I’ll continue to use the words Kehren and tornante to describe these turns, depending on where I am at the time. From Kufstein, we head across the B173, B178, and B161 down to Kitzbühel over Pass Thurn, the first real pass we took. On the way, we stop for a bunch of decorated cows, the annual Almabtrieb in which the cows are driven down from the mountain peaks into the valleys for the winter. At this point, we run into the three guys from the train for the first time. At Pass Thurn, a tourist bus driver moves his bus for us so we could take a photo with the pass sign. From there, it is across the B168 and stopping for fuel (285.2kms on the odo, total 247,8 total), then up to Saalfelden for a quick shoppping stop and lunch at the Gasthof Frohnwies.

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After lunch, we head on to the Grossglockener Hochalpenstrasse, one of the original Alps passes and the highest in Austria. It consists of beautiful ascent and descent ramps and two actual passes, the Fuscher Törl and the Hochtor. The Fuscher Törl is in the clouds when we ascend, on the other side, the Hochtor is in the sun. Not bad for our fist big ascents. We avoid the Edelweisespitze as it is not only in a dense cloud, but paved with cobblestones, a surface neither of us love. At the Fuscher Törl, we find cars being tested for braking function.

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We wind down the day by heading to Linz, and just past there, find a small pension that offers us room and board for the grand sum of 35€ a head. Including a garage for the bikes, not so bad! On the way there, I have to make an ugly uturn and my bike takes a nap, but no damage and those Vario boxes are a lot tougher than they look. DSCN4021

I’ve planned an Alps tour with a GF.

Links to Google Maps tracks…

1 München Ostbahnhof to Lienz

2 Lienz to around the Sella Group

3 Sella Group to La Rösa

4 La Rösa to Landeck

4a Landeck/Perfuchs side loop

5 Landeck to Stanzach short way

6 Landeck to Stanzach long way

7 Stanzach to Stuttgart

The idea was to allow ourselves some short cuts and extra roads to use, depending on how the trip goes. We may also take an extra hour to ride into Lichtenstein, just to say we were there.

I’m one of the riders who wanted my feet down on my first bike. I am not ashamed of this. It was some security and I needed it. Being able to put both of my feet down gave me confidence that I wasn’t going to tip over, wasn’t going to damage my bike, and was going to make the ride. When I found my lowered F650GS, I was ecstatic. Honestly, it’s been the perfect starter for me. It’s got a propellor on the side, I can get my feet down, and it’s Mandarin Yellow. It’s autobahn-friendly, dirt-friendly, and (grrr!) garage-friendly. And, if I didn’t mention it, I can get my feet down. With a slight bend in my knees! I spent a year and a half with it becoming a confident and reasonably capable rider. To that end, it served its purpose with distinction.

My confidence grew as I got proficient with the baby GS and I was starting to wonder what it would be like to ride a non-lowered bike. I was starting to only use my toes at stops. I was bending my knees so that my heels weren’t down. I was experimenting with not having my feet down by tripoding all the time. Due to some motor issues this summer, I made the decision to buy a second bike. The prospect of a vintage BMW floated by, but I dropped it due to not wanting two dead bikes.  I wanted to try something sportier and smaller, but also, something that was a bit taller.

I went with a Honda CBR250R. Before I broke it in, I could sort of get my feet down, but not all the way. My heels had quite a sliver of air under them, depending on where I was on the seat. My feet came down in front of the pegs (gasp!!) when they came down at all.

Riding the CBR250R is a completely different experience from the GS, not the least of which is the fact that my legs are straight and my feet are mostly down when I am stopped. I tripod it everywhere, because both feet don’t go down on the ground like on the GS. And it is good. My increased confidence lends itself well to the higher seat and less foot contact. My improved balance makes handling the more top-heavy CBR much less of a challenge. And, frankly, having my down leg straight is really stable. Much more stable that I could have ever imagined when I started this whole riding thing. Now I understand those guys who look so cool and calm with a bike balancing against one leg, the other foot up on the peg. I can do that too now. 

Recently, though, I’d started to question my choice of the CBR, due mostly to the cost and the extent of the issues with the GS, partly due to the amount of back pain I’m enduring as I convert to the new riding position. I got the GS back on the road last night, and I now have a different perspective on the matter.

After riding the GS last night, I know that the CBR was not only the right decision, it was a good one and a very good one at that. Just as wonderfully good as the yellow GS has been. The CBR is teaching me confidence in a different way than the GS did. And honestly, the stupid GS pretty much rides itself. You tip it into a turn, it pops right back up. It’s so stable. The CBR wants to lean and lean and lean. Just going right to my dream bike, a 1983 R65, would not have given me a new view of riding like the CBR is giving me. I also wonder if starting low gave me a edge up on the going taller game – basically, I have something to compare taller to. I can from the get-go understand why the taller CBR is just fine and in some ways even more stable at a stop than my low GS. I can appreciate the CBR more because I know what it is not. Also, did I mention the GS is low. Like too low. What do I do with my legs low. I still love it, but now I think it needs a lift kit – I’ll find someone in the US to swap regular parts over for my short parts when I get home so I can put down a straight leg instead of a bent one and get some of that newfound stability.

I think that I can serve as the poster girl for starting with a lower bike and moving up. The low GS gave me the tool I needed at the time. It’s still a fantastic tool that I adore riding. But I didn’t stop there. I moved a bit higher, and I can now see an F800GS in my future. The seat height no longer scares me. I might not be seeing that if I was still fighting with a taller bike from day one. Just like your first bike doesn’t have to be your last one, it also doesn’t have to be te tallest one you ever ride. You can always move on up with the next one.

The answer to getting your feet down is do it if you need or want to, but stay open the idea that one day, you might find yourself pretty comfortable up in the air, sticking a toe out once in a while to touch down. It worked for me.

note – It was pointed out to me that the CBR is very light, and that is helping with the transtion. Yes. And there will be more transitions in the future, thanks to that.

It doesn’t sound too hard, does it, to buy a pair of coveralls that fit? Well, I am female….

Years ago, I purchased a pair of navy blue size 38 regular Dickies coveralls for use around the house and garage. They got about 10 minutes of use before they were ditched for old jeans and a ratty tshirt. Why? Remember what I said about coveralls that fit?

Admittedly, there aren’t quite as many women wearing coveralls as there are guys out there, so it’s no surprise that a decently-fitting pair is hard to come by. Add in that a fair number of the women out there who do wear coveralls aren’t built like Lauren Bacall, and you have a market that isn’t all that attractive to coveralls makers. Because it consists of about four total women.

The difference between coveralls for men and coveralls for women is easy to spot. Women’s coveralls have room for boobs and butts. They also have shorter back-waists – the distance from the collar to the waistline. Mine went into the bin-of-things-we-don’t-know-what-to-do-with because minus the boob and butt room and being too long on the top, I was spending more time adjusting them than a Major League Baseball player spends adjusting his you-know-whats.

Last summer, I was going through that bin and pulled out the coveralls. Hmm, project? Sure! I’d already re-sized and significantly altered a two-layer Nomex suit for racing cars, how hard could a pair of coveralls be? The good designers at Dickies were a lot more serious about these things staying together than peeps over at Speed Sport Racing! The coveralls took me over eight hours simply to dismantle to the point that alteration could begin. Adding to the mess was the most complex elastic waist I’ve ever seen, one that requires a special machine to properly install. I got the bulk of the fitting done over the next few weeks, but the elastic waist and its complexity beat me, and I put the project on hold for a while.

Until today.

Alterations are typically bread and butter work for a seamstress. Relatively simply even when complex, and rarely requiring more than a few pins here or there to set up seams. Occasionally, you get something over the top, and you have to resort to machine basting. At the very tip-top of annoying and difficult seams come the ones you have to hand baste – sew by hand before you sew them properly with a machine. I had set aside the annoying elastic waist when exuberant pinning did not solve the problem. Sometime in the winter, I took a stab at it with machine basting. Today, I sucked in a lot of air and got out the pin cushion and thread: I would hand baste this thing and finish it off. Four hours later, three spent out in my garden in the sunshine, and I was rewarded for my effort with a pair of very stock-looking, properly fitting coveralls.

They look completely off-the-shelf. I like that. I just wish they had been off-the-shelf to begin with!

Sun on the bunny hill

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Nordic skiing has a lot more to do with Alpine skiing than skateboarding does with snowboarding.

I traveled to Willingen, a town in the Sauerland area of Germany, to further my skiing abilities, and for the first time, skied fully in parallel, executing pretty stem turns and schussing down a moderately steep piste. Four hours of lessons produced a recognizable and functional technique that could get me safely down the slope with good control. By the end of the weekend, I could ski comfortably, avoiding oncoming traffic and the hundreds of Dutch children covering the bunny hill. I even ventured up the Seilbahn (gondola lift) to take on the big hill. I fell once, sliding due to a bit of fear (my survival reaction is to lean backwards, a quick way to lose control), but no harm done. I seemed to have learned how to properly fall in the process, too.

The instructors both made a good point: I was not a beginner skier. Unlike instructors in the US, who pooh-poohed my hundreds (if not at least a thousand) kilometers of Nordic experience, the Germans were quick to describe each Alpine technique in Nordic terms. This was a confidence boost and made it easier to adopt the new technique of pushing the tails wide (stemming).

I expect I’ll be skiing through the summer, over at the Skihalle in nearby Neuss. Yes, it’s a bunny hill, but I see no reason not to own it, too.