Ken Steinhoff – Page 67 – Palm Beach Bike Tours

May 12, 2008June 9, 2008

The LOST is on fire

I wanted to ride the south end of the Lake Okeechobee Scenic Trail (LOST) to shoot pix of the muck fire near Clewiston. It was hot, so I didn’t head out until about 4:30 P.M.. Even though the forecast was for winds out of the SW at about 6 mph, I could tell from looking that it was higher than that.

There didn’t appear to be any fire around South Bay, so I elected to put in at the Clewiston Marina, where there was a large column of smoke.

As soon as I got up on the dike, I could see cars in the picnic area watching the flames. I shot a couple of mediocre pix and then climbed to get on the trail.

It was blocked by a sign that said, Closed to the Public.

There was a guy in a pickup parked next to it, so I said, ‘I don’t see any signs, do you?

He said, “What signs?”

I lifted my bike over the gate.

I took a few more pix and, not wanting to hang around the non-sign (there were no signs on the WEST side of the gate) any longer, I headed west looking for good art.

The winds were blowing from the SW, so all of the smoke from the smoldering fire was being carried out to the lake, so there was none on the trail. The only smoke I could see south of the trail was coming from sugar cane burns miles away.

The more I rode to the west, the less fire I could see. There were acres and acres of burned vegetation, but no active flames.

What I did find, however, was that the winds were 8 to 10 mph sustained, as measured by my handy Radio Shack wind gauge. On top of the dike with nothing to break the wind, that’s a killer.

I shot a few pictures of fisherfolks in boats with the smoldering muck fire smoke in the background and a few vultures that let me get to within about 10 feet of them. (That could have been a bad sign. They were waiting for lunch to come to them instead of the other way around. Continue reading “The LOST is on fire”

May 11, 2008April 6, 2009

About Palm Beach Bike Tours: How We Came to Be

First off, if you got here looking for a formal tour of Palm Beach, we’re not there yet. We may not ever get there.

Here’s what happened along the way: several months ago, my two sons, their wives and my toddler grandson in a bike trailer, started doing weekend rides. It was convenient to meet at my house and ride Palm Beach. That riding group has grown to include friends, co-workers and the occasional tourist we’ve swept up.

Thirty-five years of working at the local newspaper, The Palm Beach Post, has given me lots of war stories and historical tidbits that I share with the riders. Some of them may actually be true.)

For my birthday, they set up this site and said, “You’re so close to retirement that you can taste it. (Why don’t you do Palm Beach bike tours and get paid for what you’re giving away for free?”The more I thought about it, the better I liked the idea. See if I could cut a deal with a local bike shop that already rents bikes; use FRS radios for commentary; convince the city fathers that we would emphasize safety, get a foodie friend to provide picnic lunches, etc., etc.

Then we had a larger than average group show up one Saturday. It was a mixture of hammerheads who wanted to go fast and newbies who wanted to ride 10 mph and who weren’t comfortable in traffic. That made me wonder if I really wanted to go into the cat herding business.

In the meantime, this site was already getting hits, even with nothing on it. I didn’t want to disappoint folks, so I thought about the hundreds of messages I’ve posted since the early 2000s to bicycling newsgroups and email lists about rides, equipment, technique and stuff that you think about when you’re on a saddle for hours at a time.

This site is going to be a distillation of those postings, plus some of the ramblings of friends and family. Instead of herding cats in the real world, I’m going to do it in the virtual world.

For those of you who are actually looking for good places to ride, I’ll have GPS tracks, Google Earth .kmz files and lots of pictures as quickly as I can put them up. It’s taking a while to edit the original postings and to learn the software that runs this site. Please be patient and visit often. There will be a lot of new (old) content posted in the next few weeks. Comments, questions and critiques are welcome.

June 18, 2002May 15, 2008

230 Rule: Calculating Mileage Using Heat, Humidity

In South Florida, when the temperature is 90, the humidity is likely to be 90.

I’ve developed the 230 rule: 230 – the temperature – the humidity equals riding miles, give or take 20%.

Hence, 220 – 90 degrees – 90% humidity = 50 miles.

Ever notice how folks on the porch call it a breeze and folks on a bike call it a headwind?

June 18, 2002June 3, 2008

Schmidt Generator Hub with Lumotec Headlights

About half of my riding is after dark this time of year. (It’s hot in Florida.)

I just got a Schmidt generator hub on Friday, so when I put it on the bike I’ll have it, with two Lumotec headlights, along with a NiteRider Pro 12E in the front. In the back, I’ll have a NiteRider taillight on the bike and at least an Eclipse LED blinkie on my Camelbak.

Depending on how well I like the Lumotecs, I may only use the Niterider for the taillight and for backup.

Cost of lighting stuff: about $600. Cost of Trek 1220 (used) $600.

Fewer than one in ten riders I see after dark have any form of lights. If they have something, it’s usually a blinkie with low batteries.

I get lots of positive feedback from motorists and peds.

June 15, 2002May 15, 2008

Riding a Century Slowly with Doppler Radar

My first century took about 10 hours. I can’t put my hands on my log book for 1999 right now to know the exact rate.

Looking back at the log for the 11 mph century in 2000, I see that I was slightly off. My rolling average was actually 11.6 mph and total rolling time was 8 hrs, 35 mins. With stops, though, it was still close to 10 hours. The next day I rode 81.2 miles at an average of 11.0 mph. (That must have been why I remembered 11 mph.)

Those centuries were done on a comfort bike with 26″ x 1.95″ tires. When I took it in a couple weeks before my first century, the wrench just shook his head and said, “100 miles on that bike is like 130 on a road bike.” I also bring along the kitchen sink when I ride. My bike is on my LBS Wall of Shame because it weighed in at 49.5 lbs, with lights, tools, food, etc.

While I’m plodding along, I comfort myself by thinking that anybody can ride fast on a 17-pound bike with 21-year-old legs, pulled along by a paceline.

My most recent century over the same route with my new road bike was done against a headwind and a rolling average of 13 miles an hour.

I have a regular 66-mile ride I do at least once a month. My rolling average there is usually 13 to 14.5 mph.

On group rides, I pass a whole lot of folks who are slower than me and I get blown off the road by a whole lot of folks who are faster than me. I hope both groups are enjoying their day as much as I am.

Nah, aero I’m not. My chest and stomach changed places about 20 years ago. One thing I did notice was that fat guys have an advantage on the downhill runs.

I wouldn’t consider a 13 mph century fast. The major difference between the 11 mph and the 13 mph was that I was the absolute last person to make it in the first year. The last sag wagon of the day tried to convince me to give it up when I still had about 30 miles to go. I told ’em that I had lights, water, food and a cell phone and that I was used to riding alone. I was monitoring the ham frequency the wagon was using, so I heard them radio back that there was one rider left on the century course “and he’s got everything but doppler radar and he says he’s gonna make it.”

The next year, I was still passing lots of riders when I finished up. That made me feel much better.

Putting that in perspective, hundreds of riders were already showered, napped and on their fourth pitcher of beer long before I pulled in.

I admire the hard-core riders who knock off a century in less than four hours and I wish I was a couple of mph faster. On the other hand, I don’t want to ride in a paceline sniffing someone’s shorts for those four hours.