New England Coastal Town X. You know the one. Narrow streets, saltwater marshes, dog-rose bushes. Windswept rocky beaches, icy currents. The natives distinguished from the tourists by their accents, the age of their boat shoes, and their ability to go in the water (watah) without flinching. Dilapidating beachfront properties, clung to for generations before ultimately being sold because money's run out or the siblings can't decide who keeps the house.
The developers from the Cityare good guys,thank God, not at all like those soulless predators who would have entire blocks of historical properties bulldozed for condos. Worshipful of the town's character, they only want to update, to improve. They landscape with native plant life (they've researched this; it looks natural and wild yet subtly colour-coordinated).Gingerly and respectfully they extract Jesus and Mary statues from front yards. They remove asbestos, replace yellowed wallpaper, tear down drop ceilings to expose natural beams, liberate hardwood floors. They gut those claustrophobic interiors with their myriads of tiny rooms to create an open concept layout. They install granite kitchen counters, stainless steel appliances, add extra bathrooms (really, a 6-bedroom house with 1 bath?...).
The updated properties are resold at prices that reflect the quality of labour, the professionalism of the interior design and the local sourcing of materials. They are bought by urban escapees. Eager to live in the quaint town for a fraction of the cost of their cramped city apartment, they long to improve their quality of life with fresh air and natural beauty and a sense of community. But the economy is terrible, and their ideas of local employment opportunities prove over-optimistic. Two years later they return to the City, keeping the property as a summer house and income-generating vacation rental.
A tiny commercial street runs through a narrow peninsula. It is home to 6 ice cream shops and 5 seafood restaurants, every single one of them with water views. The seafood is freshly caught, the ice cream home made. "There's a line, but it's worth it." A woman wearing a white beach dress and straw hat asks the high school girl behind the counter if the scallops are good. Unthinkingly the girl answers that she hates seafood, then laughs apologetically and promises they are excellent. The woman asks the girl where she is from. She replies that she lives down the road, pointing in the direction. The woman is ecstatic as she carries her food away to the outdoor seating area. She tells her husband about the exchange. "You know they're locals if they hate seafood!"
Around the corner is a string of cozy little shops selling locally made jewelry, fair trade clothing from South America, organic hand lotions, antique furniture, used books. The local Art Association operates a Co-Op. Paintings, ceramics, woodblock prints. A hand-holding couple discusses purchasing an abstract seascape. "I want the lighthouse to be recognisable without the whole thing being cheesy, you know?" They study several pieces that meet these criteria, tilting their heads.
There is a yoga studio, a book club, a historical society, a concert hall, a market stall selling fresh produce thrice a week on the Green. Artist residencies are held on a bi-monthly basis. There is a mannerism and style of dress that distinguishes the seasonals from the more casual vacationers and day trippers, establishing a hierarchy of sorts.
And then there are the locals, that elusive species. They work the counters, staff the hotels, rent out the boats. But mostly, those who remain are like ghosts. Sometimes you hear the accents at the beach, or a voice calling a child in "for suppah" from an open window.
New England Coastal Town X. I've lived in one and I've visited many, and now here I am again. Memories blend with images glimpsed from afar as I ride my bike past the rocky beaches, charming shops and impeccably renovated properties.
Spending lots of time on the roadbike has improved my speed and endurance more than I ever thought possible. Unfortunately, my bike handling skills are lagging so far behind that the gap is becoming almost comical.
Of all the winter cycling accessories out there, none can match the formidable powers of the balaclava. I daresay few garments will make a "cycle chic" photographer withdraw his camera faster. And what other article of clothing is capable of striking fear into bank tellers?As universally unflattering as it is terrifying, the balaclava is not an item one would purchase casually. You've got to get to the point where you really, really needit.For me that point came one December morning. As I pedaled my roadbike against a brutal headwind with temperatures in the 30s, I felt ready to give the dreaded balaclava a try. The one you see here is from Ibex, sent to me for review.
My interest in a balaclava is specific to roadcycling. Going at speeds of over 20mph in a leaned-forward position, my face takes the brunt of the harsh winter wind and this can feel extremely uncomfortable. The close fit of the Ibex balaclava is an advantage here: the opening is so tight that it feels almost elasticised; wind does not enter through it while cycling at high speeds. The thin fabric and close fit also make it comfortable to wear under a road helmet when I don one for organised rides: There is no bunching up or slippage. I would say that Ibex's take on the balaclava is designed for athletic activities, such as skiing and winter cycling, rather than for casual wear. Everything stays in its place, and the technical merino fabric forms a tightly woven layer of protection against the wind that feels feather-light and pleasant against the skin.
The inevitable downside of such a precise and form-fitting design, is that there is no versatility in how this garmentcan be worn. While in some balaclavas the lower portion can be stretched down to expose the mouth or pulled up to cover everything but the eyes, this is not possible with the Ibex version. In order to expose my mouth, I have to stretch the opening forcefully and as soon as I let go my mouth is again covered. Likewise, covering the nose would not be possible. For me that is probably a good thing, because covering my nose with fabric in the past felt constricting and uncomfortable. Even having my mouth covered feels somewhat restrictive and will take some getting used to.
I have been looking forward to testing myBella Ciao ("Patricia")in winter conditions, and with the arrival of the season's first snow I finally got my chance. Before I go on, I will preface with the disclaimer / mini-announcement that I have begun collaborating with Bella Ciao on a special edition bicycle, which will be sold by Harris Cyclery in Spring . I will have more details about that soon, but just wanted to make that affiliation known in the meantime.
Though I love the way my Bella Ciao "Corvo Citta" model handles, I don't ride it as often as I'd like, because I haven't yet installed a rack and lights. Now that winter has begun in earnest, that will be my next project - I just wanted to first make sure that I'd actually be able to ride this bicycle comfortably in snowy conditions.At just over 30lb, the Bella Ciao is considerably lighter than the likes ofGazelle and Pashley, and - justifiably or not - I am weary of lighter bikes when it comes to cycling in poor weather. To my relief, I had nothing to worry about and Patriciahandled just fine after the first snowfall: She remained stable on slush, on slush mixed with salt, and on thin layers of packed snow.
As with other bikes I have ridden in such conditions, I switched to a lower gear and went slower than usual. The bicycle remained sturdy and cooperative. When braking in slush, I used the coaster brake only, which I find easier to modulate on slippery surfaces. The bike also did well cycling on the slippery stretch of brickwork that was part of my route. As far as safety goes, I feel comfortable using the Bella Ciao as a winter commuter in Boston and will get on with the lights/ rack installation so that I can use it more this winter. 
While the brave Patriciaperformed admirably, my first snow commute of the season was not entirely stress-free. Driver behaviour was chaotic and there were few cyclists out on the roads. Several times, I got spooked by a car's ambiguous maneuvers and ended up cycling through a mess of wet snow by the curb. Based on last winter's experience, I know that things will get better once drivers get into their "winter mode". Meanwhile, perhaps there is a reason why most cyclists seem to have chosen to wait it out!
What I found fascinating about the Boston "bike scene" last winter and also noticed yesterday, is that often the only bikes on the streets seem to be those that are least suited for winter cycling - for instance, aggressive roadbikes with narrow tires and no fenders. Where are the fully equipped city bikes? Where are the rugged vintage 3-speeds?
It could be, that the aggressive roadcyclists are the ones most likely to brave these conditions, while, ironically, having the worst possible bikes for doing so. That's too bad, because winter is the time when features like fenders, stable handling, wide tires, internal gearing, and an upright sitting position, really make themselves felt. Last winter, I was extremely appreciative of the Pashley I used to own, and this winter it looks like I will do equally well on the Gazelle and Bella Ciao.
Though Patricia and I did not have many companions on our first snowy commute of the season, we hope that the winter wonderland will coax more cyclists outside soon. Once the drivers calm down, it is really not so bad: Just take it easy, dress warmly, ride a sturdy and properly equipped bicycle, and enjoy the beautiful landscape!
Ian and Be-Bop Rock.
Autumn in the Icicle.
Hiking out.