Preparing for Ethiopia 2 – Rocky Mountain Route 66 & Arkel Overdesigns

I had my wheels. The next step was to find a stock bike with the frame I wanted. The guys at “Two Wheels” would strip it and “spec” it for me. But that was easier said than done. I spent days going over bikes and test riding them. Occasionally I thought I’d found the right frame. But then they’d call the company and find out that that size frame was sold out. It seemed that the year before, most bike companies were hit with a big surplus of bikes and lost money. This year, they had cut back on production, and now it was turning out to be a huge year, and they were selling out their bikes very quickly. I eventually selected six different bikes. The first through the fifth were all sold out. My sixth choice was just a desperation choice. I didn’t even like the bike. But it too was sold out.

Then my fortunes changed. The sales rep at Rocky Mountain in Vancouver became curious about this customer who was looking so desperately for a bike. Mike explained that I wanted a mountain bike but intended to use it for dirt- and rocky-road touring. The Rocky Mountain rep then told Mike about a special bike they have called the “Route 66 – European Version.” I knew about the Route 66. It was their touring bike hybrid with road tires, so I wasn’t interested. But for the European market, where touring is much more popular, they put together a different version. They took the mountain bike frame from one of their high-end mountain bikes and blended it with elements from their touring “Route 66” and then upgraded all the components to the ‘LX’ level, which was the level I wanted. The rest of the sales pitch informed me that it had normal front forks (not suspension forks, which are not compatible with pannier racks) and attachment points for all the touring doodads like pannier racks and water bottle racks (not two but three). It also had a different head set and handlebar stem and seat, all providing a geometry more suitable for touring. I made up my mind quickly and ordered one.

Two months later, the bike arrived and work was begun stripping it down and adding the components I’d selected. The road wheels were removed and my monster wheels put in their place. The gearing system was changed over from Rapid Fire levers to Sach Wavey grip shifts, which would allow me to keep my hands on the handlebars while I changed gears. Thick knurled bar ends were added to give me another hand position. (Keeping your hands in one place on long cycling days leads to pinched nerves and loss of feeling.) Then came water bottle cages and water bottles, a Cateye cyclecomputer (complete with altimeter), and most important, the pannier bags and pannier racks.

When it came to these last two items, I was kind of lucky. Earlier in the year in Vancouver I had stumbled across pannier racks made by a company called Jandd, and they were awesome. They were called the “Extreme” and were specifically designed for heavy duty loads and rigorous riding. The tubing was much bigger and stronger. They had three downtubes instead of two and the platforms were three inches longer and an inch wider than the norm to accommodate big loads. The front rack doubles as a normal rack and as a low-rider rack. When they were delivered in the mail, I found that all the nuts and bolts and clamps came in their own little burlap sacks. I thought that was a nice touch.

Unfortunately, when I attached them to the bike I discovered that the front rack been welded together improperly and the bolt holes did not line up. They were off by nearly an inch, which twisted the racks off at a horrible angle and made them impossible to use. I called the company and made arrangements to have them replaced but then decided to see if I could fix them myself. Much more time had gone into assembling this bike than I’d planned, and I didn’t want to wait longer while boxes went back and forth through the mail. Who could say how long that was going to take? So I made some careful measurements, took my courage in both hands and with a vice and vice grips gingerly bent the bottom portion of the racks back into alignment. I could do this because the welds were off not in just one direction but two. By bending it back, the tubes of the rack ended up totally at odds with each other, but the bolt holes, which were the important factor, lined up perfectly.

I also had considerable problems mounting the front rack. My Route 66 frame was not entirely as advertised and had arrived without attachment points on the front forks. I was extremely annoyed to discover this, since the existence of these attachment points was one of the key elements in my long search for the right frame. I didn’t kick up a fuss, however, for the same reason that I didn’t send the racks back. I was just tired of the waiting and the hassle. Instead I used the clamps that came with the racks. These clamps are always a pain to use and never quite fit, but after a couple of hours of fussing and fighting I got the racks mounted. The effort it took meant that I was never going to take them off even for shipping, but they were in place and seemed secure.

The final element of my “world’s greatest touring rig” (and perhaps the most important to me after the wheels) were the pannier bags. I didn’t have much hope here. I’d been looking at pannier bags for a long time and never came across anything that I really liked. Most were not strong enough or big enough for the loads I had in my mind and the kind of cycling I anticipated. There were some that came close such as the Ortlieb brand, but again I couldn’t find any stores that stocked them. And even had I found them, I don’t think I would have bought them. I’m a fiend for pockets and as far as I knew, Ortlieb panniers consisted of one big compartment with no pockets at all. Other pannier bags I saw which had many compartments were meant more for city touring and carrying books back and forth to school. They were all Hyundais when I was looking for a Cadillac.

But then another bit of luck came my way. A sales person at a bike shop happened to be into bike touring and told me about a company called Arkel Overdesigns in Quebec. She’d seen their pannier bags at a bike convention, and though she didn’t think she could sell their high-end stuff, she did order in a few of their basic bags, and she had one set in the shop that she showed me. These bags weren’t breathtaking, but they piqued my interest. That began a long search for any other Arkel bags, but try as I might I couldn’t find any stores that carried them. But I did find one of their catalogues and though the bike shop wouldn’t give it to me, they let me take it out of the store to photocopy it. (I had to leave security behind and felt like I was carrying state secrets or something.)

I took the photocopied catalogue home and pored over it and the more I looked, the more intrigued I became. Arkel had a 1-800 number and I called them and that began my long relationship with Serge, the guy who answered the phone. I called him daily with more questions about the bags, and I became more and more intrigued. There wasn’t a single feature on their bags that hadn’t been thought out and designed. Most companies make a bag with pockets and leave it up to you how you fill them. But Arkel went the other way. They made a list of the things that a person going around the world on a bike would bring along and then designed the bags to accommodate those things.

A big problem with bikes, for example, has always been where to put the tent poles. They’re simply too long to go anywhere and you end up tying them to the frame of the bike, which is not very convenient. So Arkel designed a back pocket that is literally two feet long. It’s big enough to hold tent poles plus a full-sized Thermarest. Then they designed a pocket to hold a fuel bottle, then another for maps, and another for a tool kit. Some of the pockets were detachable and could be hung on a belt for hiking. The map case even came with a belt and could be worn around your waist like a fanny pack.

The zippers were unbelievably rugged, and every compartment opened all the way to the bottom. The main compartment zippers had emergency sliders tucked away in case the first ones failed. The seams were quadruple stitched. The smaller pockets had special ‘smiley’ zippers that opened up the whole pocket, instead of the slit zippers that most bags have. They had a locking mechanism that was simple yet extremely tough. Once those panniers were on the racks, they were not going to come off no matter how rough the road. And to top it off, they were huge.

The problem, as with most of this kind of gear, was the price. They made a full range of bags and the basic ones had a basic price, but the ones I was interested in were what they called “EX-R” or “Expedition Ready.” In their catalogue they say (with I hope at least a bit of the tongue firmly planted in cheek), “Outstanding people use outstanding gear. Determined, courageous, fearless, they push their limits to the limit. This special edition, EX-R, has been developed at the request of these fanatics. Be advised that these panniers are meant for action and cannot cope with boredom. They work best on the Russian backroads, remote trails in Patagonia or the Gobi desert. The EX-R is ‘over-designed’ and is not intended for city strolling or joyful touring of vineyards in France.” I couldn’t resist a sales pitch like that and despite the ‘expedition’ price tag I ordered a set.

Tags: Arkel Overdesigns, bike, Ethiopia Bike Trip, Rapid Fire, tent