“As in the Arsenal of the Venetians, in winter, the sticky pitch for smearing their unsound vessels is boiling, because they cannot go to sea, and, instead thereof, one builds him a new bark, and one caulks the sides of that which hath made many a voyage….”
Dante’s Inferno (The Divine Comedy) Canto XXI
’76 “Square Body”
Many a voyage indeed hath this 44 year old truck made. Not recognizing the first blisters in the re-paint and the accumulation of leaves and dirt between the fender panels resulted in some seriously rusted body parts. I am not ready to go to the expense and inconvenience of leaving my truck for some unknowable amount of time at a body shop for repairs and a repaint. Instead thereof, I am repairing the rusted parts myself. Having neither the experience nor the right tools- no mig welder, no spray booth, nay, not even a garage- shan’t stop me, since I do have a thorough working knowledge of YouTube.
Caveat: I am not responsible for anybody taking this post as instructional and attempting to do the same things I do.
First item was to address keeping future rust on the rest of the truck at bay. I decided on a rust converter called OSPHO which is a water thin solution of phosphoric acid. According to the manufacturer’s website; “When applied to rusted surfaces, it resists/retards rust in chemical change on drying to a tough, hard surface ready for priming.” My understanding is that it can be applied to bare metal as well and left un-painted, even though not painting it means re-treating the metal in a year or so. I spent a day or so scuffling around on the ground coating all the exposed, rusty looking body pans and structural parts.
Second item was to survey the damage to the body panels. Minimum tool investment was a body hammer and an angle grinder with grinding, sanding and cutting wheels. Tapping around the suspect areas with the pointy end of the hammer exposes where the sheet metal is rusted through. Grinding and sanding with the angle grinder makes things easier to see and exposes surface rust and prior repairs. I could cut out sections of the drinker side fender and the hood where the rust was all the way through and then use some expanded metal and fiberglass and then Bondo Glass topped with regular Bondo to get a smooth, paintable surface. Since this is a repair and not a restoration I’m pretty confident that it will last and look good for a reasonable time.
Tools and ShopDetail of the drinker’s side
The driver side fender was pretty gone and I ended up cutting that completely off and replacing it with a patch panel purchased from LMC Truck. Based on a recommendation I found a body shop that was amenable to welding on the new piece.
I cut the fender off under the trim piece.Very happy with Remie’s Body Shop in Ft. Stockton, TX!
I found another company called PaintScratch which sells paint in rattle cans based on the original manufacturer’s codes. Luckily I had the code from the original repaint. It is Sunburst Orange Metallic used on the 2007 Dodge Caliber which is a rather boring looking 4 door hatchback. I think the fenders and rocker panels came out satisfactorily. The finish is not quite as shiny and deep as the rest of the truck but it is hard to notice unless one looks very close. We’ll not talk about the hood other than to say it will need to be redone when I have a large indoor area to work on it. Anyway, I think the truck will be good for a few more voyages and if I ever decide to repaint it I can replace the hood and the drinker’s side fender and it will look like new.
The Armadillo is a 1996 Foretravel U295 Motor Coach. Made from scratch in Nacogdoches, Texas. We bought it at Motor Homes of Texas which is about a quarter of a mile from the factory. That’s pretty neat. Just before we bought it the original owner installed a residential refrigerator which requires a relatively large amount of A.C. power. There is no option to use propane as with some RV refrigerators. Hence, we either need to be connected to 120V “shore power” or we need to run the annoying built-in generator, which defeats the purpose of parking out in the desert for any length of time.
So it is critical to have another way to charge the batteries and to run the refrigerator. The Hermit does have experience with one solar power installation on a vintage travel trailer. That project involved adding batteries, solar panels and an inverter. Inverters use magic to take 12 volts from the batteries and provide 120 volt power. This new project was more intimidating because the generator, the engine starter batteries, and the engine alternator are all interconnected. Plus, the wires are way bigger. Turns out, the solar is more or less separate from all the factory wiring of the coach. The panels send power to the charger which then sends the magic to the batteries!
Must include the standard caveat here: I know just about exactly enough to get into trouble when it comes to this type of thing so if you are looking for guidance for your own project visitHandy Bob’s BlogandKelly’s RV Solar Blog
For the trailer I bought everything from Starlight solar in Yuma, AZ but they have since closed shop. After research and calls and emails I bought material for this project from Northern Arizona Wind and Sun in Flagstaff. From their website I was able to fill out a load calculation worksheet for our coach and send it to them. A few days later I received an itemized quote. The sales rep patiently answered all my questions and I made a couple changes and additions to the quote before pulling the trigger. The quote to add solar from the dealer where we bought the Armadillo was around $8000.00 while these parts cost me about $1700.00. Can’t blame them for trying to make a living though, and I don’t think they really wanted to mess with it.
The guts of the system are two 330 watt solar panels, a MPPT charge controller and a smart shunt. The shunt is a device which measures loads and also communicates the battery status. A smart shunt does this without wires which is awesome for a retrofit because it saved hours of time tracing and rerouting wires inside the coach. The MPPT charge controller takes the 70+ volts coming from the solar panels and changes it to 12 volts before sending the current to the batteries. This is good for a couple of reasons, the best one being I can use 12 AWG wire, which is relatively small, from the panels on the roof to the charge controller which is in a bay underneath.
Existing wiring chase
The supplier sent a diagram of how everything was to be wired and I did a little sketch for myself just as a visual aid for the layout.
Visual aid for wiring controller
The next step is to carefully dump everything out of the box and start building. I have a spot in the bay for the controller and fuse box so I just had to make those fit on the appropriate size back board. This actually worked out quite well since all the connections were made before the board was attached in the small, hard to reach space in the bay.
LayoutThe controller and fuse box in place.
The shunt was easy, I just disconnected the old one and put the new one in its place with the additional wire from the solar charge controller.
Old shuntNew “smart” shunt
I did all of this before installing the panels. And when I did put the panels on the roof I covered them with cardboard before dealing with any wire connections because as soon as the sun hits a panel there is live voltage. I bolted the included angle mounting brackets onto the panels and then set the panels on the roof where I wanted them. I marked the brackets and the screw holes on the roof, moved the panels, drilled the holes and placed a bed of urethane sealant to set the brackets in for extra stability and for waterproofing.
I used urethane sealant to hod the wires in place on the roof. the tape comes off and just holds the wires until the sealant cures.
I disconnected the house batteries and the starter batteries before making the final connections and flipping the breakers because I didn’t want any loud and/or fiery surprises. When I finally did though, everything worked! I can monitor the state of charge and the volts and amps from the batteries using the smart phone app. Now we can drive down the road with the inverter on keeping the fridge cold without burning up the coach alternator. And when we make a shopping trip to the Walmart in Ft. Stockton and spend the night in the parking lot we don’t need to run the generator. Pretty excited to see how this works for boondocking in the Nevada desert.
In the Bike Hermit’s experience, ale is at least two other men. The first “other” man comes around for the first two or three rounds- depending on the ale’s alcohol content. He is more loquacious than the original Bike Hermit and his mood is fine. For him the hard edges of living are sort of smoothed and softened. If the session continues (usually ill-advisedly, and due to impaired judgment) this man often stays. Other times, on some unpredictable cue, a second “other man” appears and vitiates the first “other man”. This second “other man” is mean spirited and hurtful. But he is confident that his behavior is justified and he is unwilling to back down. He is not a tough guy though; he doesn’t pick fights with strangers, because that might hurt. No, he bullies his friends and loved ones with his anger and resentment and hurt feelings. He feels as though he has been wronged or insulted or embarrassed in some way and those feelings are strong enough to be accepted as true (by him). He’s actually quite good (better than he realizes apparently) at getting retribution for these perceived wrongs. He is something of a coward, really. He doesn’t care for himself either. His meanness comes from insecurity and self loathing and an urgency to “do unto others before they do unto you”.
This is not a drinking story though; the Bike Hermit does not care for the second “other man” but he knows he will always be there- a ghost in the machine, which is just more plainly visible with alcohol.
As it turns out I am bike touring with not just one companion but two. To a self proclaimed hermit like myself this is not customary. It’s a good thing they both know me well, are patient with me and mostly forgive my antisocial tendencies. My present companions each provide entertainment value in their own ways and the shared experiences deepen our friendships. Sometimes it’s nice to have reinforcements; D. is not afraid to approach people at campsites and ask if he can buy beer from them when we run out (here’s a tip; they usually offer it for free) P. reminds me when I am being critical of, or less than generous toward, my fellow man that I am no better than they are. That said, traveling alone on the bicycle is for me a rewarding, almost spiritual endeavor.
I know I’m different; maybe there is something wrong with me. When I was 18 I hitchhiked across the country and rode my bike around New England in states of confusion and loneliness. That same year I rode from my home in Bozeman, MT. to Swan Lake near Missoula. I carried no water and I rode in blue jeans. I didn’t even have a tent. It must have been after that summer that I found a poster of Lon Haldeman’s touring bike. I hung that poster on my wall and studied it every day and tried to figure out how he got all that stuff hooked onto his bike. I don’t remember too much about that bike anymore except for the wire bead clincher tire folded perfectly and strapped neatly to the outside of a pannier.
I think what I like most about that picture was the suggestion that a person could be self sufficient with a machine like that. There was a promise of escape and of freedom. By freedom I mean being able to start whenever I like in the morning, to ride at my own pace and to stop when I want. Being able take a detour if I feel like it; camp where and when I want to; get a room when and where I want to. Self sufficiency and freedom are compromised when one is a member of a group; even a group of 2.
I don’t understand when people have a week or two vacation to use but don’t go bike touring just because they have nobody else to go with. They tell me they get bored without someone to talk to. Personally, I think it can be a lot of work and sometimes awkward to be patient and courteous and social with others, and I am not always able to exhibit those apparently simple skills. Imaginary friends work out well for me however. I can post on online forums and my own blog without threat to my social personality. There is less responsibility there. I don’t need to be nice to those people when their hamburger doesn’t taste right- or when I’m having a shitty day.
I suppose there is safety, or the impression of safety, in numbers in case of mishaps but Lon Haldeman and I are self sufficient. I know I can fix anything that goes wrong with the bike. Strangers are either interested in what the guy on the bike is doing or they don’t even seem to see me, so the fear of being harassed isn’t that threatening.
Most people talk about all the great people they meet on their tours, almost as if that is the reason they go. While I too have met some interesting people, that is not one of the things that drives me. I like being sort of invisible. I don’t need to interact with anybody if I don’t feel like it. I have never seen these people before and likely will never see them again; I’m a ghost. Like Diogenes, the self proclaimed “prophet of truth and plain speaking” who gave away everything to live in a storage jar on the street where he could observe and criticize and shock polite society, the paradox is that without civilization and society, the existence of the solitary bike hermit would be meaningless, in fact it would be impossible since we both rely on the society in order to survive.
I can be myself or thereabouts. My “self” becomes a little less restricted when out on the bike. I have no definition of how I am supposed to act because the persona I adopt in my daily life doesn’t apply. That is a feeling of freedom too; the freedom to improvise.
All this tough talk about being some sort of swashbuckling eremitic figure is just talk though. After a couple months or a couple of years on the road by myself the solitude might start to wear. A few years ago I had the urge to sign up for a 10 day meditation retreat in Oregon. 10 days of asceticism and silence sounded really good, and a little frightening, to me at the time. When I wondered aloud what I might find if I went, an acquaintance who identifies as a Buddhist told me, with a twinkle in his eye;
“You’ll find yourself, brother.” That’s more than a little frightening.
D. is turning back tomorrow since he only has a couple days to goof around. P. is going on to Canada and I am riding with him as far as Enterprise, OR. D. was willing, indeed he seemed anxious, to stop at each of the scattered farm houses along this lightly traveled back road to inquire about places to camp or to ask for water. None of the locals appeared to be the least bit interested in helping. “Well”, says P., “There is a reason they live out here”. Now we have arrived at a small oasis; a grove of trees along the road offers shade and a place to hang the hammocks. D’s efforts finally pay off and the ranchers from the low, scattered buildings across the road let us fill our water bottles from one of their faucets. With that problem solved for the moment we sit in the dry grass, silt and cow shit; like hobos on the bank waiting for a train. P. and I drink the beers we bought earlier while D. drinks whiskey. Then we turn in.
Hill Country Hideout- “Someplace down in Texas” (It’s in Canyon Lake). Wednesday is open mic night and just because it’s Christmas day, it makes no difference. There are 29, or so, taps but because of the holidays, there are only a few. Some real good singers (the host is not included in this description) share the mic, one at a time, and the one guitar. The sign says something about mics and bikes. “Bikes”,however, don’t mean pedal bikes, because, Texas.
A profile of the county road between
Llano and Castell, Texas would resemble an asymmetrical standing wave
as it rises and falls through the central Texas Hill Country. A two
lane road with no shoulders but little traffic. The drivers who do
use this road are invariably courteous to cyclists. It might be
because they are unaccustomed to seeing us on the road, but I prefer
to believe it is because being courteous is a mandate in Texas.
Indian Paint Brush and whatever
Bluebonnets survived the recent freezing weather are blooming in the
borrow pit. Beyond the road right of way is the scrub brush , pecan
trees and live oak trees that thrive in this part of Texas, all
behind the fences of the private ranches. A light, steady southwest
wind blows.
At the Castell store I order a
hamburger and Stacy orders the grilled chicken sandwich. A half dozen
men sit at the bar considering topics of local importance. While
waiting for our sandwiches on the front porch, a man with a red and
white MAGA hat steps out of a pickup. A sticker on the front door of
the store says something about a village in Kenya missing an idiot.
Traditional visit to Fass Bike in Vicente Guerrero
It’s difficult to put into words the emotions, the experience and reality of our adventure in Baja California, Mexico. The Baja Divide Bike Route was established in the winter of 2015-2016 by Lael Wilcox and Nicolas Carman. Read in detail on bajadivide.com. Make note that these two are professional endurance athletes and many years younger than the Bike Hermit and Sky King. We started pondering our own trip not long after the Baja Divide website was published. Everything fell into place over the summer of 2017.
We sold Bike Touring News to Ryan King – a perfect fit to carry on the blog, online store and retail store front. We had nothing holding us back nor did we need to adhere to a tight time frame. Granted, selling the business along with 98 percent of our worldly possessions and moving into our 1968 Boles Aero trailer left us little time to put miles on the bikes. Overall, I don’t think our adventure would have changed much if we’d started with stronger legs.Our Baja Divide experience included biking, bike hiking (lots of bike hiking) and bus riding. Prior to rolling out of San Diego we’d agreed on a few major points that were vital as the trip moved forward.
We agreed to be safe and prudent. We realized the need to error on the side of caution. Falling and breaking something when you are in the middle of nowhere, in a country where you don’t speak the language, on roads that are very difficult to navigate was not something we wanted to risk.
We agreed that we would not be in a hurry. We had no time constraints so if we only covered 20 miles or if we decided to explore an area we would do just that. Stop and enjoy the Baja, its people and the country – what a concept.
We agreed that we wanted this to be fun. We weren’t so naive as to know it wouldn’t be hard at times but “being able to” and “wanting to” are not the same thing.
We agreed to make smart decisions, as a team. Taking breaks, stopping for the day, never letting the distance between us get so great that we couldn’t easily wait for who ever was in the back. Eating even when we didn’t feel hungry.
Looking back, knowing these parameters from the beginning made for very few moments of frustration with each other. Frustrations with the route are an entirely different story.
Welcome sight – Sea of Cortez
To date, this was the longest bike trip I have done. I’ve ridden numerous 3, 4, 5 day trips both on pavement and on dirt roads. I am not afraid of long days and I’m typically a strong climber so I wasn’t overly concerned about this trip. We ride some extremely rough roads in the Owyhee Desert carrying the same loads we carried in the Baja. What I wasn’t prepared for was the magnitude of the poor conditions of the so-called roads. It’s one thing to have a tough stretch for a mile or two, it’s a whole different experience to have the tough stretch of road turn into miles and miles of difficulty, day after day after day. I started the trip thinking that we’d still pedal the entire 1700 miles – though it would take us longer than some of the younger, stronger people who rave about the ride. I kept that thought through the 305 miles of the first section, despite sitting under a scrub brush literally in tears after 4 hours of death grip descents or downhill walking alternating with climbs so steep you would have to push the bike forward, grip the brake, take a step and repeat.
Champion Bike Hikers!
A turn of events in Vicente Guerrero and a review our initial agreement helped us make the next smart choice.We rolled into Vicente Guerrero in the dark, right at rush hour. Mexico Hwy 1 runs right through the center of town, carrying the bulk of the motorized traffic in the Baja but also the end of the work day traffic for Vicente Guerrero. We do a web search for hotels and note they are all on the other side of a deep arroyo spanned by a two lane bridge with no shoulder. We manage to get across hwy 1 with the intent of finding a back road to the hotel. A young man on a BMX bike rides past us, stops and asks (in perfect English) if he can help. (This is not the first friendly local we encounter, nor the last. Read the Bike Hermits Crazy Guy on Bike Journal for more). Manuel leads us across the bridge – turns out there is a sidewalk we couldn’t see in the dark. He takes us to the hotel and speaks to the desk clerk to arrange quite a large room for us on the ground floor. We gratefully tip him 100 pesos – about $5. Being very tired from an extremely challenging day we head out in search of food and enter the first open restaurant we see. The next day we realized we’d broken one of the rules our good friend Paul has told us about eating – never eat where you can’t see them prepare the food. We ordered chicken sandwiches which came with lettuce and tomato and a lettuce salad. We inhaled everything.
At 3am I wake up with my stomach rolling. I jokingly refer to my stomach as the princess stomach because I am sensitive to many foods so at first I just wrote it off as being dehydrated, yada, yada. Jim wakes up at about 6am with his stomach rolling. That’s when I knew we were in trouble. In talking to others we expect the lettuce was washed in unclean water and that’s what took us out.We took three days of unexpected downtime to read and research the route ahead, known as Section 2, Valle de los Cirios – 559 miles of the most remote part of the ride. Water availability at one point is 120 miles apart. In addition to being wiped out from being sick we knew that riding 120 miles in 3 days on this route was not realistic as we wouldn’t be able to carry sufficient water to be safe. Back to the agreement above – make smart decisions and we want this to be fun.Once we made the decision to take the bus to Mulege – thus skipping section two entirely – I let go of my old belief that it isn’t a bike trip if you don’t ride every mile. Riding every mile sometimes misses the point. Our Baja Divide became a multi-modal adventure that involved bikes.
Overall, the bike riding sections didn’t get any easier. In fact some of our hardest biking days occurred after Mulege. I would love to say that I learned to appreciate the difficult sections but I would be lying. Riding the tough sections was physically and mentally exhausting. We found it frustrating to read descriptions on the cue sheets or comments about the ride that (IMO) brush off the conditions of some of the backroads and brush off the distance to the next water stop. To me, those are life threatening and I worry that someone is going to get seriously injured or even lose their life because they haven’t realized the depth of the undertaking.
When did I know I was done with the bike portion of our adventure? This is actually a two part recognition. We’d just completed our third day of the section from Ciudad Constitution to La Paz. We arrived at the San Everisto, a small fishing village on the sea of Cortez. The store and restaurant were both closed, we had to ask for water from a house. We camped on the beach with the tiny fishing village to our backs and large sailboats and power boats anchored in the bay. The economic difference was striking. I thought to myself, “who is having more fun – that person paddling to their beautiful boat in the kayak or me sitting on the beach, covered in sweat eating lentils and spaghetti?” I commented to Jim that it might be time to rethink the rest of the trip.
Next day, we stop at another house to ask for water. We don’t fill everything as we don’t want to make them go without and we expect to get to the next available water that day. About 8 miles into the day the road starts to climb with such a steep grade it is hard to believe vehicles could drive it. The next 5 miles or so vacillated from extremely steep and rocky climbing (which meant pushing the bike) to extremely steep and rocky descending (which meant more walking). We push over two huge climbs and encounter a man walking with his two dogs. He is pushing a cart and we laugh that he is probably traveling faster than we are. He tells us the supposed water refill site further along doesn’t exist and he had to knock on doors for water. It’s hot, we are mentally and physically exhausted and now we know we’ll probably run out of water. What we were hoping would be a day-and-a-half ride to La Paz is probably more likely at a full two days at least. Jim looks at me and says “once we get to La Paz I am done with the Baja Divide.” I said, “sounds good to me.”
If you’ve read the Crazy Guy Journal you know that shortly after this two wonderful brothers stopped with their tiny truck and gave us a lift to La Paz and we officially left the route. We didn’t quit biking, nor did we quit adventuring. We just reviewed our agreement and adapted.
Was it fun? Overall the Baja was amazing. We saw areas that most visitors probably have no idea exist. We met people who have so little I was actually racking my brain about what I had on my bike that I could give them.
Stopping and exploring, camping on some beautiful beaches, absorbing the sights, sounds and food was fantastic.
I’m sad to say that the biking parts were often not fun. This was difficult for both of us to accept as we really do like to bike pack and enjoy a challenge.
Would I recommend the route? I don’t think so. I continue to read the comments on the Baja Divide Facebook page and wonder how many people start the route and then make a change of plans or readjust their trip like we did. Again, this route is very rugged and remote and we’ll probably never hear about those who have been seriously injured or ill and in trouble. Occasionally someone will post about bike issues but we were fortunate to not have any problems. We had dinner in La Paz, with Jenny and Matt Aker – also professional endurance bike racers. At first they gushed about the route and the ride and it was only after we started asking them hard questions and sharing our experience did they admit that yes, even for them, the route had some extremely challenging moments. It’s interesting that bike riders only seem to post about the good times. We don’t want to come across as sour grapes type people and we aren’t. We are realistic people and want to communicate that it isn’t always “fun” and this route should never be taken lightly.
Was it scary? We got this question on our Facebook pages often. The Baja was not scary at all, ever. Out in the middle of nowhere if we came across people they were always friendly.
The Amazing Kool-Aid Popsicle – Gift from a Trail Angel
We wished we knew the language. Total strangers would offer us beer, cold drinks, food. Shop keepers would smile and laugh as we bumbled through attempted communication and they repeated words over and over for Jim so he could work on the correct pronunciation. We walked the streets of La Paz well after dark and never felt uncomfortable.
Will we go back? I hope so, but it won’t be on bicycles. The Bay of Conception worked its way into my heart, it would be intriguing to return for an extended stay.
What’s next? I type this sitting outside in Yuma, Arizona. Our next obligation isn’t until May 1st when we report to work at a dude ranch in Victor, Idaho. We are still adapting to the slow life but getting better. We may or may not get to Alpine Texas this winter. We may just get lost in the Arizona desert too. Regardless, we know there is plenty of biking in our future.
With the creation of the Krampus and the ECR Surly Bikes introduced a new wheel/tire standard; 29+.
In 2017 they revamped both bikes in order to take advantage of some new technologies and hub standards.
Krampus
In regards to handling, the Krampus has always been the more playful sibling to the ECR due to a slightly different, more trail oriented geometry. In fact it is listed on the Surly Bikes website in the trail category while the ECR is listed in the touring category..
Here’s a quick rundown of changes to the complete Krampus bikes for 2017:
The frame (still 4130 chrome-moly steel) is internally butted and externally shaped for added strength. The head tube diameter is 44mm to accommodate forks with tapered steer tubes. The seat tube now takes a seat post with 30.9mm diameter so most dropper posts will fit. And there is a port for an internally routed dropper post cable. Rear dropouts are another Surly innovation, one they call “Gnot Boost”. The short description for Gnot Boost is that it will accept 3 of the most common current rear hub standards. The long description can be found in this earlier post on the 2017 Surly Karate Monkey bikes. The fork only accepts a 15x110mm thru axle hub.
Surly supplies complete bikes with a Salsa 12×148 mm thru axle rear hub and Salsa 15×110 mm through axle front hub laced to Alex MD40 rims. The Surly Dirt Wizard tires and the rims are tubeless ready but the bikes are delivered with tubes installed. Rim tape, valve stems and sealant are all that’s needed to make them tubeless.
The gearing is now 1×11 with a SRAM NX drive train. 30 tooth chain ring and 11-42 tooth cassette.
SRAM Level hydraulic brakes provide most excellent stopping.
ECR -(No, I don’t know what ECR stands for) – Sky King would say Extremely Cool & Rad
The changes to the ECR for 2017 are not as dramatic:
Probably the biggest change in 2017 is that the x-small and small ECR bikes are designed to use 27.5″ wheels. The medium bikes can be had with either 27.5″ or 29″ wheels. The large and x-large bikes are only available for 29″ wheels.
The updated Troll dropouts get the Gnot Boost treatment but still have Rohloff hub torque arm slot and they still have holes to mount one of the Surly trailers- Ted and/or Bill. That’s pretty neat! The fork takes a standard 100 mm quick release hub and is not suspension corrected. The seat post is still 27.2 and the head tube still takes a standard 1 1/8″ non-tapered headset.
Gearing is still 2×10 but the rear cassette has a 40 tooth large cog vs. 36 on the legacy ECR.
Surly’s own Moloko handlebars handle steering and controls.
Rear hubs on complete bikes are Salsa 12×148 through axle and the front hubs are Surly Ultra New 100mm quick release. Alex MD40 rims.
In Summary
For bikepacking either bike will work, especially since the Krampus fork now sports more braze-ons for racks and cages. A couple of things make the ECR better for a dedicated camping machine though. For one, the BB7 mechanical disc brakes on the ECR are more easily serviced in the field. The ECR has a wider gear range with the 2×10 drive train. The lowest (easiest) gear for climbing is only nominally lower but the top end for fast cruising on smoother roads is significantly higher with the ECR. For the person who wants one bike suitable as a bikepacking machine and a fun, nimble all mountain trail bike the Krampus would be a great solution.
Peter Green’s Fleetwood Mac. Circa 1969 I bought this double album called Fleetwood Mac in Chicago at Super Saver Drug in Bozeman, MT. I think I paid $6.95 or so which was a lot of money for a fifteen year old kid. I bought it because the people in the pictures on the cover were cool. Otis Span, Willie Dixon, Big Walter “Shakey” Horton and some skinny, long-haired white kids who looked as if they could scarcely give a shit.
I wore that record out. I bought another copy and wore that one out too. The fame and noteriety ( Peter Green’s Fleetwood Mac sold more records than The Rolling Stones and The Beatles combined, I’m pretty sure) wore the band members out too. The stories are tragic. But the music is transcendent.
Not only one, but three brilliant guitar players. Peter Green, Danny Kirwan and Jeremy Spencer.
