Finally, a ride in Oregon

 "I have lost all of my riding muscles," I said to Sam, as we sat in our hot box (aka the camper we are currently living in). I just don't know if I'm going to get to ride at all until we have some sort of home. Not being able to leave our pup anywhere, not currently having the dog trailer I keep thinking about purchasing, and with Sam gone at work all day, I just haven't been able to get in any two-wheeled time.

"We'll figure something out," was his response. 

I knew that this was going to be an issue when we came to Oregon (well, during the transition period anyway), but I had no idea how much I would truly miss riding a bike. I knew we'd have to adapt, and I thought that I'd be okay with not riding for awhile. I suppose I also believed that finding a place to live would be much easier than it has been, so after having been here for two weeks and having spent the two weeks prior packing up the house, it had been nearly a month since I'd really had a chance to ride outside.

We were preparing to move "home" to a new location (as we aren't able to stay in one spot for very long, thanks to summer bookings) and Sam said, "Why don't you go on a ride in the morning before we leave? I'll take the dog on a walk and it will give you a chance to ride."

I was excited. And then worried. Unlike most who seem to retain their cycling fitness, if I don't ride for any stretch of time, any ability I had seems to leave very quickly, even if I'm doing other activities. I figured even if I could only do a few miles it would be worthwhile to get out and pedal, so I planned to wake early before the sun had a chance to start the heat (we were expecting temps to reach 105F that day) and knowing that we had to leave before 11a from the site, I believed it would give me a little time to ride, get back and help with packing up and we'd be on our way.

Sleep was nearly impossible that evening because the day had been so incredibly hot and the extreme warmth was retaining well in the tiny aluminum box in which we currently live. I was also so excited to get to ride. I know it seems silly, but it felt like an event that hadn't happened in an eternity.

When I woke in the morning (not nearly as early as I'd hoped), I dressed and prepared to ride. I had no idea where I was going, nor how far I would ride, but I was going to go. I told Sam that I'd probably only make it a few miles and I was off.

As I started pedaling, I heard all of the noises - the noises I'd ignored over the last several years. You see, this bike I brought with me is the same bike that's been sitting on my home trainer, getting used primarily over winter months, and that has really been neglected when it comes to maintenance and cleaning. I'd complained about noises even as it sat on the trainer, but it's easy to ignore when my preference is to ride outside. 

The pinging metal sounds, the scraping and creaking, the weird derailleur noises, all of the sounds began and I hoped it wasn't going to take away from the ride. I saw Sam standing at the fence, watching me pedal down the road and as I pedaled the first couple of miles, I started weeping. I think it was a combination of emotions: getting to ride for the first time in awhile, not having my usual outlet to work through feelings (there's been a LOT going on over the last couple of months), and maybe even a little sense of relief that I was still able to pedal (even if I wasn't convinced it would be for long). 

There has always been a piece within that knows how important riding is to me, but I don't think I truly understood the magnitude of that importance until this ride. As the waves swept over, under and around, I just permitted myself the time to cry, and it felt good. 

Riding toward Sisters on the highway.

Still unsure of where I was going, I thought about a highway path we'd driven to see a house in Sisters, Oregon, so I headed in that direction, thinking that I would just turn around when I was tired or ready to do so because of the heat. I just kept pedaling. Not fast, mind you, but pedaling and smiling. The more upright position of this bike was a little frustrating to my posterior (which is also out of saddle shape because I haven't been riding), but it gave me great sight lines to take in my surroundings. 

The day was already growing hot. It hadn't hit 8:30a yet and the temperatures were quickly closing in on 90F. I wasn't really focused on that though. It was just nice to be on a bicycle, pedaling without a care in the world. 

One of the interesting things I've noticed here (versus where we were in Colorado) is that when one rides "up" to a destination, it doesn't mean quite the same sort of ride. Typically, when we ride up, it's up the entire way and then a fantastic downhill return, but here the terrain seems to be more rolling, even if the general direction is up. I hadn't really taken this into account as I rode because I was just enjoying, and as my body began to fatigue I couldn't quite remember if it had been 15 or 20 miles out to Sisters from the starting point. I'd convinced myself it was 15, but when I hit that marker, I still hadn't arrived, so I just kept pedaling. 

Dismounted in Sisters for a couple of minutes... this poor, neglected bike held its own. Also, I did have tools with me, they were just in my Camelbak because I'd forgotten that this bike had no saddlebag and no bottle cages for the time being.

At around mile 21, I arrived in Sisters. After dismounting, to give my backside a break for a couple of minutes, I realized that the heat was coming in faster than I'd truly grasped and decided to head back. As I rode, I began to understand my mistake in thinking that the ride would be all downhill on the return. I tried to stand and pedal a little more, but that seemed to make the bike noises even worse. Around 5 miles into the return trip, I received a text from Sam:

Hey, you doin' okay? It's gettin' hot fast.

I was a little annoyed, honestly. I just wanted to go on one lousy ride and enjoy it. He had my tracking info for the ride that is sent by Strava when I began the ride, so why was he bugging me?

The auto-generated reply options for the Garmin popped up and I hit the "Yes" response and kept on pedaling. I could feel everything setting in though - the lack of riding recently, the heat, my annoyance from the noises of the bike. My cadence was starting to slow. I had to remind my body that it knows how to do this, and that the distance really wasn't that far. 

Yes, my body said, we know how to do this, but it's been awhile, and we're not normally on this bike.

It's amazing how slowly miles pass when one is tired. When I want a ride to last, it feels as though it's over so quickly, but every mile felt like ten, easily, on this return trip - at least to my body. My mind was content to just stay out in the heat and ride as long as possible.

Over the rolling hills I pedaled, slowly inching my way back to the campground. One last push on a hill before the upcoming signal that would have me back to base in a couple of miles. As I arrived back at the site (later than either Sam or I had anticipated), he'd already packed everything, attached the camper and was ready to roll. 

"You okay?" he said, with a smile that was both concerned and happy for me that I was able to ride.

"Yeah. Realized about half way through that I never buckled my chin strap for my helmet. Saw it flapping in the wind as I was headed back," I responded.

"Where'dya go?" he asked.

I was confused. Hadn't he been watching where I'd gone?

"Your phone did that thing again and never sent the email, so I didn't know where you were," Sam said, obviously guessing that I was not understanding. 

It all became clear in that moment that he'd simply been concerned because I'd said I was only going to ride a few miles and he had no way to know where I'd actually traveled because the message never sent. 

After a brief conversation about the ride, I changed quickly and we got on our way to our next temporary site. I was entirely grateful to have had the opportunity to finally ride, tough as it may have seemed in some of the moments. The good moments far outweighed anything that seemed less-than-ideal. Hopefully, we've worked out a system so that I can ride at least once each week until we have a more permanent setting for home... and who knows? Maybe we'll end up with that dog trailer and I can get in even a bit more riding with our pup in tow.

Finding a Touring Bike {Part 2}: Early Thoughts on the Velo Orange Campeur

*Note: This is the second part on finding a touring bike. If you don't care to read about the back-and-forth process of finding the Campeur, feel free to read from here, but if you have interest in reading about what I was considering as possible choices, you can find the first part of this post by clicking here.

Once I calmed myself down and stopped the incessant searching, I realized that I had made a choice and I needed to give it a fair shake before I began another hunt. What sort of crazy person buys a frame and then continues to look? {Points fingers at self and says, "This gal."}

Anyway, with so many parts around the house, I had to buy very little to get the Campeur built up. I needed a crank, a bottom bracket, cables, and a headset to get it completed (In truth, we had a bb and crank I could've used, but I opted to go ahead and buy another regardless). As much as I wanted to blow every dime I had available to build this up with parts I could drool over, I wasn't ready to invest in new (nor expensive) parts when I wasn't sure the bike would work for me. I'd rather get it built up with minimal expense and then upgrade or change as things move along. Call me overly unnerved by this project, but I just couldn't bring myself to pony up the dough.

The day the Velo Orange Campeur arrived, I ripped into the box. I think the grey color is a wonderful choice. It's difficult to dislike anything that's fairly neutral and that can go with any color. It leans just a bit to the purple side of grey, but not enough to be noticeable in passing (or at least, this is what others have stated to me). I was immediately surprised by the lightness of the frame, but then quickly realized it was because the fork was not attached. As I grabbed the fork, I realized how long it had been since I'd separately held a steel fork in my grip. It isn't light, but lightness isn't its point either.

[As a quick side note, I've read in a few locations that the Campeur stickers along the top tube are under the clear coat; however, mine arrived with stickers on top, making them easily removable. This may have been an update to later versions at the request of potential buyers. I honestly don't know. I may or may not keep the sticker, but it doesn't bother me either way at present, so we'll see what develops. I haven't quite decided if it's kitschy or cute, but either way it is "different," and I tend to like the unusual.]

A couple of days later, the bike was assembled (I am seriously impatient - thank goodness Sam knows this and hopped to it with the build), and it was the first opportunity I had to see what it would look like in person as a whole bike. I felt it looked a bit a hodge-podge of parts, despite the fact that it wasn't built as oddly as one might think from random pieces sitting around. It was and is perfectly functional, even if I'd have preferred different choices had I been willing to drop the cash. Even the bar tape turned into a mix of three different colors; but it looked both stout and still kept a bit of a vintage, clean feel, I would say. I use stout in a hardy sense, not in a derogatory manner because this bike seems ready to take on anything.

An experiment with cloth bar tape - for me, I think the cloth would work better over something more cushioned.

I was concerned though that it wouldn't fit properly and I wouldn't have an opportunity to find out how it actually rides. Thankfully, that was not the case.

The first venture out was just on an errand in town. I was rather surprised by the Campeur's spritely feel. I imagined that it would provide more a dead ride, given that it is a touring bike, but instead I found it easy to pedal and maneuver, yet it wasn't twitchy or squirrely - rather non-specific descriptors, I suppose, but often used to describe some bikes. I enjoyed the stable feeling, reminding me somewhat, though not entirely, of my Rivendell Sam Hillborne. But I will get to that comparison in a bit.

At some point, the bar tape will all be the same color, but I couldn't find a single color - nor two single colors - in storage to make it all the way around these very large handlebars.

I have had a set of trekking handlebars sitting around for some time. I've not been entirely sure what I wanted to use them on, but thought this was the perfect bike on which to test them. We had flipped and flopped and tried to situate these to give me the most comfort since they can be used in whichever manner suits the rider. To date, I still don't know if these will stay or go on this bike, or if they'll get more adjustment, but the bars themselves will be a tale for another post. In short, I can say that I do like all of the hand position possibilities on these - particularly as I have need to move my hands frequently.

The Campeur was ridden for a few weeks around town and running errands before I took it out for more of a "real" test. It had easily passed the around town bike assessment, but I wanted to know how it would feel on longer rides. I have learned that I really do prefer to have bikes that can work for multiple purposes. While they may be "assigned" a task in the fold, I prefer having the ability to use a bike for more than one job.

It took a bit to be able to go on any length of a ride. Due to some physical issues I've been dealing with, long rides are not exactly on my to-do list at the moment. But, I needed to know how this bike would fare over distance and a longer time in the saddle.

So, one dreary day, I decided that even if I had to stop more than I'd prefer, I was going to take it out for a more duty-driven test, and thankfully, all went well. It was not the sort of test that an actual multi-day tour would provide, but it gave me comfort knowing that the bike is capable and that I am able to situate myself to maintain at least a reasonable distance riding the Campeur.

I am truly in awe of this bike's ability during descents. I haven't owned or ridden many bikes that felt so entirely stable, regardless of speed, while plummeting downhill. In fact, if it weren't for the little voice inside telling me to slow down before something unexpected happens, I'd have no reason to slow at all. But, that is my own hang-up, not the bike, so for those who enjoy their 40-50+ mph descents, I think this is a fantastic possibility.

What has struck me about this bike is how I feel when riding it. I mentioned earlier that I am compelled to compare it to the Hillborne, and there is good reason for that. They are similar bikes and intended for somewhat similar purposes, but I find a different feel and pedaling quality on each.

One of the first comments Sam made as he followed me on one of our rides in town was that I was pedaling around like a rocket. "I guess the new bike suits you," was his comment, after which he proceeded to further explain that he was pushing to keep up.

I laughed a bit, as I know he can easily out pedal me, but understood his point entirely. I felt faster on this bike than on the Hillborne, whether I was physically quicker or not. To be clearer about the speed element, after a few tests trying to directly compare velocity, I'm not sure that either is physically faster than the other. I realize this has much more to do with the engine pedaling than the bike itself, but I'm always curious if my speeds increase when using one over another.

However, I do feel faster on the Campeur, which is an interesting bit on its own. I'm nearly incessantly trying to figure out what it is that causes one bike to seem easier to pedal or quicker than another. Many will argue different aspects of a frame, components, or the geometry itself, but I will leave that to others to decide as I am by no stretch an expert in such areas. The one thing I came to realize during the comparison rides of Hillborne vs Campeur was that they each provide their own distinct ride.

I wouldn't say I prefer one over the other, but more that they are simply different. In some ways, I have likened it a bit to an on versus in feeling. A strange way to explain the differences, but in some ways it feels an appropriate means to describe just that. I struggle really to find a better way to provide descriptors of the way they each feel/ride.

My "hobo" Campeur, in all its glory.

While perhaps both bike options could be described in terms of a "Cadillac-y" feel, the Campeur, in my experience thus far, seems to have more ability for quicker pick up. There is more of an immediate reaction to effort than there is on the Hillborne, I'd say. I suppose this is in part why I feel as though I'm "on" the Campeur and have more ability to push it, while I feel more "in" the Hillborne, as though I'm kind of just along for the ride and pushing is a bit more effortful.

In regard to the actual build of the two (since I am comparing them), letting alone the physical geometry, there are a few items that differ. The Hillborne is built with 650b wheels, while the Campeur sports 26" wheels (I will note this is only true of the two smallest sizes as the larger ones have 700c wheels). They both have wide-set handlebars, though the Campeur's is the wider of the two (by a few centimeters). The Hillborne has bar end shifters, while the Campeur has thumb shifters. In respect to drivetrain, they have very similar builds and each has a triple crank (the Hillborne has a 26-36-50, while the Campeur sports 26-36-46) and 11-34 cassettes.

Neither of these bikes have been weighed recently, but when picking them up, it is apparent that the Campeur is far weightier than the Hillborne as it is currently built (as in, there is an audible grunt when I pick up the Campeur). Despite this reality, I still find the ride more lively.

I do feel as though I may lean over the handlebars a bit more on the Campeur (something I cannot do with the Hillborne because of its extra long top tube), but it has not been something that has bothered me, and in fact this is what I hoped for as a possibility with a shorter top tube (for reference, the Campeur has a top tube measuring 2.5cm shorter than the Hillborne).The leaning may partially be due to the handlebars selected as well. An extra tall stem was used in the build, believing that I'd need to get the bars up higher, but it's actually set at the lowest point possible for this frame (I may need to get a shorter stem at some point if this begins to feel too high).

It may seem a bit odd, as I mention my hand and wrist problems with regularity, that I would want a more leaned over position; however, what I appreciate about this bike is that I have the ability to both be upright and to change the set up to a more leaned over posture, if wanted and/or when my hands will allow it. I should also note that my "leaned over" stance is a far different position than most riders, as I still sit in a fairly upright position regardless of set up.

I stand at just slightly over 63 3/4 inches/162 centimeters with mildly shorter legs - for a female anyway (My PBH is 78cm for those who use this method) - and the 47cm Campeur fits me well. There is plenty of standover and I don't feel squeezed in, nor do I feel the reach is too far.

There was some experimentation that took place with handlebar stems. I have tried a 50cm, 60cm, and an 80cm reach. The 80cm, with the handlebars currently in use, was a bit too stretched for my liking. The 50cm seemed a bit short. Using the 60cm at the moment feels just about right, but again, I think this has more to do with the particular set up and handlebars selected.  If I were to set the bike up with handlebars (and perhaps more importantly, brakes) closer to the rider, a longer stem would likely be more suitable.

For some, I know there is a bit of a debate when it comes to threaded versus threadless stems (even in the first part of this post the subject arose), especially for a touring bike. I personally prefer the look of a quill stem to the more easily found threadless variety, but I also understand that there are pros and cons to either option. For me, my decision was not based purely on the quill stem, and I don't view it as a reason to pass over the Campeur as an option either; however, if it is important to the individual to have threadless, it is something to keep in mind. It is also possible to use a stem converter if this is truly a deal breaker.

In looking at the photos of the Campeur build, an oddity with the front rack may be noticed. Eventually, a front bag will sit atop the rack (if I can ever decide what it is that I'd like to see on this bike), but I didn't want to purchase a new front rack for the time being, knowing that I have a perfectly good one available. The problem was that the arms of the rack didn't quite reach the eyelets. While we could likely have taken this to a shop and had the arms bent (though I'm not sure even bending would have resolved the reach issue), we decided to go with a home solution.

Perhaps some of the sharp edges should be filed down, but they haven't caused any issues as of yet.

Instead of bending the arms, we added small pieces of metal to "stretch" the arms to meet the eyelets. If the front were going to be loaded up with a great deal of weight, I wouldn't use this method (nor this rack), but it is surprisingly sturdy for a home remedy and will hold the potential few pounds carried in a front bag.

Since I have yet to select a front bag, I cannot speak to how the Campeur will handle a front load, but I suspect it will do just fine from the few things I've traveled with attached to the rack.

One other point of note, particularly for this smallest sized Campeur, is that it actually does come with three water bottle mounts (something rarely obtained on small frames). I haven't as of yet mounted a cage or bottle, so I cannot confirm the size of bottle it will hold (though my guess is that it will be only a very short one, simply due to clearance issues), but I was thrilled to discover this as a feature I hadn't anticipated when I ordered the frame.

Over time, I will replace parts and pieces that are more to my liking, but I have to say it is a fine machine as it stands. Despite having other preferences for parts I'd like to see on this bike, I have found that because it is such a great ride, I am perfectly happy to wait things out and select pieces a bit at a time.

A good indicator for me when it comes to my enjoyment of a bike is when I choose it over another option. When a bike is new, it is sometimes easy to select it over another because there is a certain level of excitement, but I have had many bikes that, despite my fervor or infatuation with them, were ignored or avoided. I can already sense that this is not one of those bikes.

It is still early in our time together, but I find I almost have to force myself to ride something other than the Campeur. It just seems to do a lot of things well. It's not a race bike, but beyond that it is capable of handling dirt roads with ease, performing well over longer distances, and it does a great job of getting this rider around town in comfort. It's even seen me through a hail storm and several rainy days without issue (other than perhaps some squealing brake pads).

During one of my early trips running errands around town on this bike, I was sitting stopped at a signal waiting to make a left turn when a car pulled up on my right side to cross. A few seconds later, the driver rolled down his window to ask about my saddlebag, but then quickly took notice of the bike itself. "Looks like you have yourself a fine touring bike there," he exclaimed, interrupting himself mid-inquiry.

We finished our chat quickly as the signal had changed, but it's an example of the sort of reaction this bike seems to get. It isn't the first thing a person may notice, but after spending a few moments taking it in, the bike is recognized as a solid, good looking machine that is perfectly capable of a variety of tasks.

I am particularly pleased to find such a smooth bike frame for a reasonable price. I was willing to wait and even continue to save for a more expensive choice, but I am truly pleased that I took the risk with the Campeur. I haven't always had the best of luck with buying-before-riding, and it may not be the choice for every rider, but I continue to look forward to using this bike.

It should be a strong point to anyone reading that I have yet to actually tour with this bike. My opinions of it at this point in time are early and are not based on riding a loaded bike over long distances. I think it's important to point this out because after a loaded tour, my thoughts could change. However, if someone were looking for a bike to commute on with some panniers or a front bag, or to take on an overnight camping trip with minimal luggage, I think my tests thus far -at least for myself- have shown the Campeur quite capable.

As we have more time together, I'll likely have more to say about this bike, but in the meantime, it's a bike I wouldn't hesitate to recommend trying. If you happen to be close to Velo Orange or a dealer that carries built stock, take one for a spin and let me know what you think... or if you have owned a Velo Orange, I'd be curious to hear your thoughts on their product(s) as well.  Additionally, if there's anything I may have missed, please feel free to ask away and I'll do my best to answer.

Finding a Touring Bike {Part 1}: So Many Choices

"I don't know why I can't make a decision!" It simply came bursting out of me with little control one evening as I sat debating the next bike purchase. I'd already been knee-deep so to speak in research for several months, and had been purging bikes from the herd for some time as well. I'd even contemplated annoying others, trying to reach some sort of conclusion that made sense.

The idea of another bike was both exciting and entirely stressful.  I was finally ready, or so I thought, to make a decision and the choice was the one thing I found myself incapable of making. My biggest fear in purchasing a new bicycle is having it go awry and finding myself in a situation that requires starting over (again). I wanted this one to be right - or as right as it could possibly be.

*Image found here - Surly loaded to tour

This notion of touring has been stirring in me for a couple of years now. While it is unlikely at this point that I would be able to take off on a several week or month long adventure, I do think it's entirely possible that I could escape for a few days and see where my legs take me. The hiccup in this idea is finding the right bike for the job.

The Rivendell Sam Hillborne seems like an appropriate choice, but as has been discussed prior, the top tube is too long for me to get more than about 40mi/65km - and that's pushing the limits of what my body is willing to tolerate. In the days following such a ride, I am often ill-equipped to ride again until my upper body mends.

As I browsed initial options, there were a lot of possibilities to consider - even more than the list here. Just do a quick search for "touring bicycles" and it's easy to become overwhelmed. I looked at and more seriously considered bike possibilities from Soma, Co-Motion, Salsa, Velo Orange, Surly, Rivendell, and I thought about custom options from Bruce Gordon  and even another Rodriguez. I also looked through used bicycles on Craigslist and eBay, thinking that perhaps there would be a good option in an older, steel Trek or other bicycle. I figured there's no reason to buy a new bike if something used will work just as well.

Realizing quickly that the list was already too long, I began narrowing down the possibilities. I really didn't want to look at a custom bike at this point. Having never toured, it just didn't make sense to spend the sort of money that would be necessary for a custom. Until I have some experience under my belt, and better understand what I like or don't, I really couldn't justify a custom bike for this purpose.

Rivendell Atlantis - *Image via Rivendell

Eventually, the list was narrowed down to include the Surly Long Haul Trucker, Rivendell Atlantis, a Velo Orange Camargue or Campeur, or finding a used bike that would work.

The one bit of wisdom most touring cyclists seem to share is that the "best" touring bike is one that you can/will ride and that is comfortable (of course, that wisdom is true of any bike). Obviously, there are other needs for touring, such as being able to carry the weight of the load for a tour, and for me, I wanted to be sure that I wouldn't be on a bike that was neither too big nor too small.

One problem with my narrowed down list was the ability to test ride. There were only two bikes available for testing locally: the Surly LHT and second-hand bike possibilities. Sam owned a Long Haul Trucker that I was able to ride in the past, so it was the one bike I didn't feel the need to actually test. I'd also considered it as an option after extensive test riding before ultimately purchasing my Sam Hillborne. The other possibility, a used bike, would be difficult to pin down locally, but if I could find one it would be the perfect opportunity to test ride before purchase.

I have never ridden Rivendell's Atlantis, but I like the ride quality of my Hillborne and I liked the Homer Hilsen, so I kept this in the mix. The Atlantis has a shorter top tube which would make it easier to set up and ride long distances. I had also never ridden any Velo Orange bicycle. These two possibilities from VO were the options that scared me most on the list because it would be a dive into the complete unknown.

After more research, I wanted to narrow down the two VO options to just one. I had done a lot of mental (and verbal, to the utter annoyance of poor Sam) back and forth between the Camargue and the Campeur. I was fine with either the quill or the threadless stem, but what had begun to sink in was reading on a website that the smallest Campeur had an effective top tube of 53cm, which seemed a tad long for me. I also feared the forward/down sloping top tube. In the past, this hasn't been a good position for me. It is technically a horizontal top tube, but I could see from photos that there was a tendency to lean down toward the handlebars.

While the Campeur seemed like a great possibility, I dropped it off the list because I feared some of the potential pitfalls. The Camargue, however, had the choice of a 51 or 52cm effective top tube and the top tube had more of an upward slope, an angle that seemed more reasonable for my needs. It also had the possibility of wider tires which had me thinking that it would make riding on dirt and rocks easier.

Velo Orange Camargue - *Image via Velo Orange

And so it came that I had the list narrowed to the LHT, the Atlantis, the Camargue, or a used, yet-to-be-discovered option.

In addition to this soon-to-be bicycle functioning as the touring bike, it also needed to work as a city bike. Of course, just about anything that works as a touring bike could also easily do double duty as a city bike, but the idea of comfort and hauling became the primary mission of this future bike.

Thoughts of my comfort on the current Rivendell were circling. If the top tube was just a bit shorter, perhaps that would make the difference and the Atlantis could be the ideal bike? The more I pondered this option though, the more I thought of it inline with the cost of a custom frame and decided that I probably wasn't ready to plunk down that sort of money for a bike that I would be using as a means to gauge my interest in touring, and if I were going to spend, perhaps a custom would be a better route to go anyway.

So, it was down to the LHT, the Camargue, and the possibility of a used find. I held out hope for finding something used, but realized that it was unlikely that something in the proper small size would materialize, so I viewed the potentials as a list of two. Two fine bicycles. Two great options.

As I'd wander back and forth between Surly and VO's website, I couldn't help but continue to glance at the Campeur. I had to admit I was drawn to it, but I had eliminated it for solid reasons, and so I would have brief thoughts of selecting this frame, but then return to the debate between the aforementioned two.

One day, I decided I just needed to make a decision. The back and forth, the pros and cons, the unknown possibilities were getting to me. I had decided that the LHT was going to be my bike. For better or worse, the choice needed to happen.

Surly Disc Trucker - *Image via Surly Bikes

I went to a local bike shop and quickly learned that the proper size was not available. At home, I did more research and realized that every location seemed to be unable to obtain the size needed. I thought I had my hands on one for a brief moment, and quickly learned that it was in fact already spoken for. Because of the dock strikes out west, there were backups and delays for manufacturers with frames made overseas. If I wanted the LHT, I was going to have to wait.

Time is an interesting component to decisions. The longer I had to think, the more I thought back to the ride of the LHT. I had recalled liking the bike, but also remembered that it had a heavier, slower, more "dead" feel to it. I also recalled feeling in between two sizes with one feeling a bit small and the next up feeling too large. There are ways to work with this, but I would prefer an option that was a bit more precise.  The more I thought, I wasn't entirely sure that the LHT would be the best option.

While I continued to look for a used possibility, I went back to the Camargue. Maybe it was a better choice? Since I had the time, I continued to debate.

It was about this time that I received some information from MG and friends of Chasing Mailboxes. MG was very kind and accommodating with my request in which I asked for thoughts and feelings regarding the Atlantis, the Camargue, and the LHT. The information she sent was both extremely beneficial and added to my internal dilemma. As I went through all the information I'd gathered, and re-read the thoughts received from MG, I was struck by a statement from one of her friends who stated that he believed he preferred the Campeur to the Camargue for touring, unless the rider needed extra stout tubing and/or really big tires.

Would I ever actually ride on rocks? I mean, who am I trying to kid... this is me we're talking about. Dirt is about the extent of my off-road riding, so how wide a tire would I actually need? And, at this juncture, any touring I would be doing would either be supported partially or completely, or it would be for only a few days at most with minimal packing.

I went back to look at the geometry of the Campeur and realized that the measurement listed for the top tube was actually 52cm, not 53cm as I'd previously believed. In reality, it was not a bad starting point at all. In addition, the quill stem would allow me to raise the handlebars up as needed with ease. It looked as though I may have given up on this option too quickly.

Sam had grown weary of my debating. He was patient though as I spoke fondly of one choice and then switched over to the next, and I'd even sucked him into reading about the different possibilities. While he was hesitant to tell me what to do (partially, I'm sure, because he didn't want to influence my decision or feel responsible if the choice didn't work out), I continued to press for his thoughts. He believed that he would go with one of the two VO options as it was difficult to find anyone with anything bad to say about either. I certainly couldn't disagree with that statement.

Still, it's difficult to choose something that I've never ridden. After having very little luck finding something used that I could actually ride before buying, I decided that I had to make a choice. What was the worst that would happen? The frame would arrive and be built up and it wouldn't work. Yes, I was trying to avoid this problem, but without making a decision, I'd never know.

And with that thought, I hovered the mouse cursor over the online cart. I couldn't believe how sick I was feeling about making this decision, but I was ready to move on with life and other happenings, and this was taking up far too much time during my days.

"I'm going to do it," I announced to Sam, my face grimacing. Hardly the sort of feeling one wants to have when making such an exciting purchase. "Really. I'm going to get it." He just laughed and told me, "Just do it already."

And with that, the decision was made. I pressed the checkout button and decided to move on with life. "It's done. No turning back now, right?" I'm not usually so slow or fretful when making bike decisions, but this decision seemed to really weigh on me as though my life depended on it in some way. Sam reassured me that it would be fine - regardless of the outcome.

The frame coming my way was the Velo Orange Campeur.  I was excited. I was nervous. I was hopeful. And then, I went back to looking at other options for a brief time, thinking that perhaps I'd made the wrong decision... but, what could I do about it now?

*Note: I'll have the second part of this post up soon, which will include more specific information on the bike itself and less of my rambling-indecisiveness.

The second part of this post is up now and can be found by clicking here.