Dressed to distress; borders, bikers, Bolsheviks and black fingerless gloves.

There was a little story from the AP yesterday that I'm sure will have been read more closely in Finland than in most other countries;  Vladimir Putin wants to commemorate the Soviet soldiers who died in the Winter War against Finland in 1939-40. According to the AP:

Putin said Thursday at a meeting with military historians that Soviet dictator Josef Stalin launched the war to “correct mistakes” made in drawing the border with Finland after the 1917 Bolshevik revolution.

I'm not sure if many historians would agree with that analysis but that's by the by. Anyway, the Washington Post had illustrated the story with the somewhat tangentially connected picture of Putin giving an award to the head of some Russian biker group, Alexander "the surgeon" Zaldostanov for his patriotic youth work or some such. A quick google on Mr. Zaldostanov shows that he and Mr. Putin have been friends for some time, but more to the point the both seem keen on black fingerless gloves!

It's a long time since I last noted the black fingerless glove issue in these pages, but it's a 'thing', honest guv'! My global-mayhem-fashion/black fingerless gloves all-encompassing theory of international relations is still developing, but tentatively I'm will to say, when they are worn (or worse - when just one is worn) be nervous.

(There are more images of Putin with fingerless gloves on in this photo essay along with some frankly disturbing shirts-off imagery.)

Engaged with the world

I found some old notes today, typed hurriedly years ago whilst I was reading My Trade: A Short History of British Journalismby Andrew Marr - a good book for anyone interested in journalism, journalists and how their work interacts with and mediates our world. I remember reading on climbing forum a couple of summers ago someone asking "why is everyone talking about riots?" This person wasn't interested in the news; cynical about all politics, she had made a conscious decision simply not to watch or read any, and as a result was unaware that there were major incidences of public disorder breaking out across the UK including, if I remember correctly, in the centre of the city where she lived. Whilst this struck me as misguided, it also seemed an almost heroic decision to make - it must take quite some mental effort to ignore all news, not to absorb any. I feel I get news, and hence am engaged in politics, almost by osmosis these days - what you eat, how you travel around, using a library, paying a bill all seem to be political acts in some way as a result. Anyway, Marr writes:

I know people who barely read a paper and who think most broadcast news is mindless nonsense. I think, however, they are wrong. They might go through their weekly round, taking the kids to school, shopping, praying, doing some voluntary work, phoning elderly relatives, and do more good than harm as they go. But they have disconnected themselves from the wider world; rather like secular monks, they have cloistered themselves in the local. And this is not good enough. We are either players in open, democratic societies, all playing a tiny part in their ultimate direction, or we are deserters. (p.63)

Sometimes it is nice to switch off; to go for a walk in the mountain, for a ski in forests - but switching off forever? Is Marr right that this is desertion?

Simond Alpinism Pants - a review.

I thought I'd write a review of these just because they are so good value for money. Doing gear reviews for UKclimbing, I get sent some amazing kit, but of course that sort of stuff is often very expensive, much more than many, including myself, can often afford. For obvious reasons, I've always been interested in kit that works well and doesn't cost the earth and these softshell trouser really fit that category.

Warm, windproof, stretchy, tough and cheap. What more do you want?

Simond is a brand with huge heritage amongst climbers, particularly those who have been in the game for a couple of decades. The brand disappeared from the UK market over much of the 1990s and 2000s, but anyone who has looked at pictures of the groundbreaking Scottish winter routes of the 80s will recognise the distinctive (and oddly mismatched shapes) of the Simond Barracuda iceaxe and Chacal hammer. When I was active in Scotland in the 1990s, Simond Piranhas had taken over as the tools to have for the aspiring ice jedi; I felt quite radically alternative when I bought a pair of Charlet Moser Pulsars instead.

The Simond Alpinism Pants

I'm not sure if Simond was actually failing when the French sports superstore Decathlon bought them a few years back, but clearly the massive heft of Decathlon has reinvigorated the brand. They continue to make technical gear as they always have (their ice gear is still for sale in an independent climbing shop here in Helsinki) plus Decathlon is rebranding much of its mountaineering oriented clothing and accessories as Simond. My wife has near-to-identical softshell trousers to mine that she bought a few years ago; just branded Quechua - Decathlons house brand for outdoor equipment - whilst mine say Simond on them. It's interesting as to whether Simond's legacy will mean sales to people who might not have bought Quechua gear, I guess that's what Decathlon are counting on. But, regardless of the name on your knee, these softshelltrousers at 40 quid or (EUR 50), represent about as good value for serious outdoor gear as you can currently find.

Pockets and thigh vent details

The basics: a heavyweight stretch woven generic softshell material. Not using membrane softshell makes them less windproof and water-resistant, but the thickness of the material means that they are windproof “enough”, whilst keeping the breathability and stretchiness that softshell should be all about. For me these are definitely winter trousers where their warmth is an advantage and their heftiness easy enough to ignore. In terms of features they have plenty but not much more than I want. They have removable braces to keep them up, but no belt-loops should you remove them. All the pockets are zipped, two at the hip and one on thigh. The fly is, wonderfully, a double ended zip, meaning “comfort breaks” for the harness-wearing gentleman at least, are so much easier to perform. There are zipped vents on thighs, backed with mesh for less pasty flesh to show when open. I could probably live without these, but can understand that when skinning up on ski tour in warm weather they will help, indeed I used them whilst snowhoeing recently in the sunshine. The ankle has a short zip and is adjustable with velcro – this has a tendency to catch snow and come open in sticky conditions. Inside the cuff is an internal gaiter; I've been pretty impressed with these; they seemed sized to fit a mountain boot rather than a massive ski boot and have a lace hook to hold them down. They don't though have an eyelet for attaching bungee elastic which would make them more usable. As they are, they will keep light and not too deep fluffy snow out of your boots, but aren't much defence against boot packing through deep snow or warm, heavy late season gloop. The gaiters are, though, 'zip out' so can be easily removed for non-snowy conditions or if you use an external gaiter. The finish of the trousers seems great – no obviously weak seams or popping stitching, and there are nice touches like 'zip garages' and every zip puller having an extender on it to make them usable with gloved hands. The only criticism is that velcro adjustment on the braces seem sized for giants; I couldn't get them tight enough for me so had to remove the velcro an re-position it so the braces would be tighter.

Internal gaiter and crampon patch

If you are climbing dripping icefalls you soon realise the limitations of softshell; the Simonds will ward off a reasonable amount of falling water and seem to dry out once you are out of the 'shower zone', but they are not close to waterproof. But with the exception of very drippy icefalls (which normally means steeper and more complicated than I can climb!) or rain, I can't think of many winter pursuits that the Simond softshell trousers don't work well for. I've used mine since getting them in December for ice and mixed climbing, snowshoeing, piste skiing, ski touring, and tracked XC skiing. The big brands may well make something as good or better; but for two or three times the price.

And streeeetch... the author climbing at Rajis, photo courtesy of and ©H. Matilainen

(p.s. for any Finns reading this post who haven't visited a Decathlon anywhere else in Europe, they have spread as far north as Stockholm! Worth a visit if traveling through, and Decathlon - next stop Helsinki?)

Monochrome winter: "ski-touring" in Nummi

This is (Southern) Finland. Leaden skies, soggy snow, no one about.

January in the Helsinki region saw some cold days and blue skies - the best sort of winter days. Trees caked in fluffy snow, and the sharp sunlight colouring all. Shadows on the snow in the middle of the day, the sparkling of ice crystals on all the bushes and grasses, to the orange and yellow snow flanked by the deep blue sky as the sun sets. Even at night the moon casts bright shadows over the snow that glimmers gently, a reflection of a reflection of the hidden sun.

The only other human tracks I saw, one snowshoer's trail.

My trail on the summit ridge after thankfully getting into more open woodland

But the pressure dropped and the world changes. February has seen the skies sink toward us, thick with grey cloud - a sodden layer of insulation. As temperatures rise to back around freezing, the air becomes thick with moisture. The snow grows sodden on the trees and tumbles down with it new found weight.

What goes up...

The 'summit' of Lintukiimanvuori.

The snow on the ground goes from light and fluffy, to thick and gloopy. We've had three weeks of this now, never colder than a few degrees below freezing, never warmer than one or two above. Well traveled roads just become wet and dirty, windscreens need constant washing as a fine layer of mud and water is sprayed up by all other vehicles. Less traveled roads become rutted with sludge. Some fresh snow has fallen, ensuring huge piles of grubby ploughed snow all about, but often the precipitation has come down as freezing rain. February hasn't been Helsinki at it's best.

Hellish birch scrub. Tried following a moose's trail through it but I don't think he had any more idea where to go than me.

The "Fun Bit". Making tracks off  Lintukiimanvuori

Sunday dawned misty, damp and cold but I need to get out and do something. I drove to Nummi-Puusula, a rural municipality not far to Helsinki's west. It claims, perhaps slightly imaginatively to be "Southern Finland's Lapland" and it does have some hills - abrupt little half eggs, covered in thick forest, erupting from the flatter, now predominantly agricultural, land. I wanted to check some cliffs marked on the maps for ice and find some steep hillsides to throw myself down on my new ski-snowshoe thingies (which I will return to in a later post). Despite the map looking promising, the only icefall I found would be of interest as a quick solo for a local only. There must be a Finnish ice climber's version of the Drake Equation, where promising looking cliffs on Kartta Paikka at the 1:16000 scale are equivalent to planets in the Milky Way, and where sparkling icefalls equal advanced alien civilisation. Maths suggests the latter are out there, but we search for them more with a religious-like faith than with the empiricists certainty.

Nearly back to the car. Note: looking at the creeping snowpack on the roof, standing under eaves in winter is not a great idea!

Nevertheless struggling through thick brush and up steep snow-smothered rocky flanks of the hills was good exercise. On reaching the top at the giddy altitude of 150 metres, I didn't feel much less out of breath or sweaty than I would on a Norwegian peak ten times that height. In fact, from ski touring in the Norwegian arctic I know that up to about the same height there you are often fighting through terrible birch scrub and soggy, bottomless snow. It's just here in Finland that that is it - no pulling out above the tree line to magnificent views across the fjord and hard crisp snow taking you onwards and upwards. The mist had lifted somewhat by the time I made it to the highest point and a clearing meant I could look out across the monochromatic landscape of winter in Southern Finland, a type of view you don't get so much in these forested and often flat parts. It's not everything but it's a lot better than nothing.

Partners in crimes against skiing.

 Then there was just the fun bit left; a descent straight down the side of the hill dodging trees and jumping off rocks to arrive panting, just a couple of minutes later, back at the bottom.

Buffets, donuts and other stories from the cutting edge of Nordic ice

I haven't done a weekend climbing post for yonks, so here goes. Hope I'm not rusty.

Whilst Finland has the right climate for ice climbing, it lacks somewhat in the geography. Yes, we have cliffs, but they're not terribly big. Last week, a friend in Norway was putting pics on Facebook of 300 mtr long WI3+s a short drive from where he lives. I was more than a little jealous. 30 mtrs is pretty huge round these parts. Nevertheless, there are some advantages to this geologic state of affairs, the lack of necessity of the 'alpine start' being prime amongst them.

Joel strikes me as a civilised chap on many levels, a polymath equally at home discussing engineering, ballet or the minutiae of the recent Israeli Knesset elections. But also, it appears, not overly keen on getting up too early - perhaps another form of civility in itself. So we didn't leave the metropolis until after 10 am. It could have been earlier but my slightly OCD-influenced approach to packing for an overnight camp meant I wasn't 'quite' ready when J. appeared at my door. Nevertheless, we motored eastward under blue skies and with a bright sun shining on white landscape. Stop one was at the ABC just east of Porvoo, a service station where I have eaten many a donut and supped many a coffee whilst on my way to sunny days at Haukkakallio, summers past. So I had a donut while J. went for the full on lunch buffet, plate piled high with meatballs, potatoes, veg and salad - a theme that we will return to.

Sated, we turned northwards and were soon approaching our goal. I had recently seen some fine pics of an icefall on a Finnish climbing blog and had mailed asking if the venue was public or not. Kindly, I was quickly sent the coordinates for the crag. Nearly a decade ago, I was in Lofoten for a marvelous week of climbing. The trip was made all the more fun by the Finnish lads camped next to us on the field by the beach. They helped celebrate my 30th birthday, around a campfire there, and a fine night it was too. Anyways, it turns out one of those guys was the blogger in question. He reminded me that as Dave and I had left Lofoten, I had given him some printouts of what would eventually become the excellent Rockfax Lofoten guide. What goes around, comes around, and a decade later I get the beta for an icefall I've not been to before in exchange. Karma, and thanks Mikko!

One slight incident of a stuck car followed by some digging/pushing; yes, Joel, "wrong type of snow" really! ;-) and we were at the crag. The sun had given way to flat greyness and a gusty wind had whipped up but the main icefall was just as fine as it looked in photos, really big by Finnish standards, giving half a rope-length of lovely ice climbing. I led a line straight up - regretting it only slightly as I had to get off one vertical section onto an uncooperative blob of a ledge with non-warmed-up arms starting to wilt. Then Joel led another line, weaving from left to right and back again, tracing the natural line of weakness up the fall. Then, with dusk beginning to gather, we both raced up the easier fall to the left of the big one. 70 odd metres, of steep, pure ice. Not bad for a lazy Saturday.

Haukkavuori main fall.

The easy line

Back in the car we drove through snow to have supper at yet another petrol station. The Matkakeidas and its pink donuts has long been associated with the development of the nearby crag Reventeenvuori, and pictures of its food have graced these pages before. We both went for the rather good buffet (yes, the second of the day for Joel) and hid from the weather sipping coffee and kotikalja. Eventually, there was nothing for it but to head back out and find somewhere to camp.


We drove to Valkeala and camped in the Pyörämäki carpark. A mean wind made pitching the tents an unpleasant race against frozen fingers, our headtorches illuminating little beyond snowflakes blasted by the wind. I built a little wall of ploughed up snow lumps around the windward side of my little tent, past experience having shown winter is not really its element and the wind can drive snow under the fly and through the mesh inner. Joel retreated to bed in his more sensible for the weather Hilleberg, whilst I brewed a cup of tea and listened to the Kermode and Mayo film reviews on my iPod. I'm currently reviewing a ridiculously fine Mountain Equipment sleeping bag for UKclimbing.com, so despite the foul weather outside the tent, once in that I was supremely cosy and slept like a log.

Joel, being a civilised chap, had told me not to wake him too early but he needn't have worried. Having not set an alarm, and warm in a sleeping bag that must be about as good as sleeping bags get, I woke late myself. The Jetboil didn't exactly roar, despite the gas cartridge having spent the night inside the bag with me, but I made some tea, ate a sandwich and put some luke warm water in the flask for later. Joel drank some half frozen juice for his breakfast. In the grey, windy half-light of a miserable morning, finding the nearest all day petrol station buffet seemed not a bad idea, but we're made of sterner stuff, or at least like to think so. We trekked over to the cliff through the snow-caked forests. Having not visited Pyörämäki before, Joel led the main fall, climbing it smoothly and finding pliant ice. For my lead we stumbled over to what I've nicknamed the bridge climb. A huge detached boulder needs to be overcome first. Last time I did this by struggling up the offwidth formed between the boulder and the main cliff, mixed-stylee. This time crusty, cruddy ice was dripping down the boulder allowing for some precarious but easier climbing onto its top. From here more normal ice forms the 'bridge' back onto the main cliff, where the ice continues up more easily before raring up again for the last five or so metres of vertical. It's a fun climb, and a doubled 60 mtr rope only just gets you back down again, so long again by Finnish standards.

Pyörämäki

With one lead each dispatched we headed back to the car. At first the intention was lunch and warm drinks then onto another venue, but more of the grey cold day had passed than we had realised. By the time we got to the Valkeala ABC it was apparent that there really wasn't enough daylight to go on to another crag. And with that realisation I ordered a burger and Joel went over to check out what delights their lunch buffet had to offer...

dhb Vaeon Zero Padded Bib Tight - a review

This is the second part of my review of some dhb cycling clothing, sent to me to review by the internet bike shop Wiggle. Wiggle selected this blog, and hence me, to be a reviewer of some of their house-brand equipment. For a bit more about dhb, Wiggle and the review process, see my previous post.

Biking through the blizzard from Toby A. on Vimeo.

Keeping your legs warm whilst cycling in winter I think is harder than your top. Put enough layers on and your legs will stay warm in any weather but you start to feel lots of drag around your knees plus you need to think about not getting the bottom of your right trouser leg stuck in the chain. Starting to ride a cyclocross bike as my everyday bike, I've noticed the clearance between my calf and the chainset is much less - far more like my road bike as opposed to my old commuter hybrid, let alone my mountain bike. So when the weather gets colder, regardless of how silly they look, tights are the answer.

The best bibs I've ever tried for winter riding.

dhb call the Vaeon Zero Padded Bib Tight their warmest. Having a pad in them, they are obviously designed to be either your only layer, or at least your inner layer if you are tempted to wear something over them. The pad (or "insert" as they call it - perhaps to make it sound a little less like a feminine hygiene product) is very comfy. I first used the Vaeons last month on an overnight bikepacking trip and they were great. Putting on some brand new cycling tights and immediately using them for two days in the saddle in cool, drizzly weather might have been a silly plan, but they worked perfectly - no rubbing or chafing at all. You can read all about the "triple layered" and "3D anatomic construction" of the insert on Wiggle's page if you wish, but I can say I've found them as comfy as any other cycling shorts or tights I've used in that specific department!

"Windslam" sections over knees/thigh

More interesting is the material and construction that make up the Vaeon Zeros, because this is what sets them apart from many other bib tights. dhb have used a windproof material called "Windslam" for the panels on the Vaeons that cover the knees and go up the outside of the thighs (it is the less shiny looking material easily visible in the picture to the right). Despite being some sort of membrane fleece, Windslam doesn't suffer noticeably from either of the old problems that made the first windproof fleeces such disasters: neither stretching nor breathing well. I've not noticed the Windslam panels seeming either more sweaty nor more restrictive that the other sections. My overall impression is that the Vaeon Zeros are as comfy as my other various bib tights, just noticeably warmer.

The mix of different fabrics seems to makes these bibs hit a sweet spot of good breathability and loads of stretch from the non-membrane sections, but with the added warmth with the Windslam making them partly windproof. One result of the mix of panels and materials is that the Zeros have a lot of stitching on them. From past failures I've seen on both cycling and mountaineering clothing, stitching together stretch materials is not easy. The stitching that dhb use here looks excellent - many of the seams are, I think, a quadruple cover stitch and everything is neatly finished. The only worry I would have is that cover stitch seams of this type are vulnerable to wear, and if the seam breaks it's very hard to fix yourself. I guess you need to just try not to rub them on anything (like the road whilst sliding out at 30 kmph or passing tree trunks when mountain biking!!) and keep the grabby side of velcro away from them - it has a nasty habit of grabbing on to cover stitch seams and breaking them.

Cold night by the fire. Bikepacking in the Vaeon Zeros .

So; the Vaeon Zero Padded Bib Tight: comfy, well designed and well made. But that leaves the final, BIG question: if they are dhb's warmest longs, just how warm are they? Wiggle suggests a temperature range of 8 to -2 degrees. I think that's actually not a bad guide at all, although I've worn them at lower temperatures and been amazed at how warm they have kept me. They are fine to wear at +5 or +6 degrees, but I've also worn just them on my legs for riding on a windy, snowy day when the temperature was between -5 and -6. My legs stayed impressively warm - normally by those temperatures I would be using a number of layers. At the weekend I rode out to our nearby cross country skiing area to see whether there had been enough snow yet for them to prepare the tracks. I got chatting to guy there who was doing the same and we ended up chatting for half an hour to 40 minutes before I rode on. Over all, I must have been out from the house for a couple of hours and never got cold legs - either actually riding or just standing around, and despite the wind. I did a similar ride in the same sort of weather a few days later wearing some old, thick unpadded longs with bib shorts underneath and was amazed that my thighs were quickly cold and, by the end of the ride, unpleasantly so. I find it pretty hard to believe that the one layer of the Zeros could be so noticeably warmer than the two layers I used on the second ride, but that would appear to be the case!

The Zero's list price is a hefty 90 quid (although that remains considerably less than similar products from more famous brands cost) but are currently on sale for £62.99. When you consider the complexity of the construction and quality of the materials, meaning you can keep riding comfortably even as the mercury goes below freezing, the Zeros seem rather good value. If I had a snowy-rider-in-the-north seal of approval, Vaeon Zeros would definitely get it.

dhb Cycle Clothing reviews: EQ2.5 Waterproof Jacket

Back at the end of October the British all-things-cycling internet shop Wiggle said via Facebook that they were looking for some bike bloggers to review some of their own brand dhb cycle clothing. I've been a Wiggle customer from time to time for years now and actually use the basic dhb road cycling shoes. These have been excellent and, particularly considering they only cost forty quid, superb value for money. So despite being only a blogger who sometimes writes about cycling, rather than a pure bike blogger, I put this blog forward and was very happy to be chosen.

Being a "house brand" makes dhb gear often amongst the most affordable option for technical cycle clothing but from what I've seen the lower prices come from the business model not at the expense of quality. I presume it works on a similar direct-to-the-consumer model that, for example, Alpkit has been pioneering in the outdoor world. Various middlemen are cut out and with the savings leading to competitive prices. Anyway, the long and the short of it is: good cycling gear for very reasonable prices. The two items they asked me to review, the dhb EQ2.5 Waterproof Cycling Jacket and the dhb Vaeon Zero Padded Bib Tight both seem well made out of quality fabrics. Wiggle wanted the reviews reasonably swiftly, so I can't attest to how well the items last over years, but I've ridden several hundred kilometres wearing the tights and the jacket now with no problems.

the dhb EQ2.5 Waterproof Jacket

I was interested in testing the EQ2.5 waterproof jacket for the rather self-contradictory reason that I probably never would have bought one myself. This is simply because, as a rule, I don't wear waterproofs whilst riding. When I ride, I do so at a pace where I warm up and get sweaty. For me, breathability to get rid of that sweat is by far the most important aspect of my bike clothes. Even top of the range expensive breathable waterproof fabrics like eVent and Goretex Pro Shell don't breath enough for me when doing aerobic sports like XC skiing or indeed cycling. The only exception to the no waterproofs rule when biking is when I go bikepacking - then I take a superlight Gortex paclite shell but only to wear it if the weather becomes unexpectedly horrible; most of the time it is stuffed away in a bag.

The EQ2.5 is not a 'just-in-case' jacket. With a mesh lining and pretty complex design, it isn't light enough to stuff into your commuting bag on the off-chance and won't pack down enough to fit in a jersey pocket for a road ride. It's a jacket to put on and keep on, with a design that reflects this. Firstly it's very well cut for cycling in. Short at the front and longer at the back (for me it could actually come down a bit more at the back) with gripper strips at the hem. Commuting with a satchel means sometimes the hem needs pulling down a little, but this isn't a problem with no bag. I've mainly used it whilst riding my cyclo-cross bike commuting, the arms are cut well for riding on the drops without pulling up. The collar is also great, coming high up at the back for lots of protection. There is a good, big zip pocket on the back, with an inner safety pocket inside it and a little internal pocket at the front that takes keys or an iPod safely.

The material itself is completely waterproof (and the jacket has taped seams) and somewhat breathable. How breathable is one of those almost unanswerable questions. Not breathable enough to avoid getting sweaty in, is one answer but that's no different from past experiences riding in jackets made of Goretex Paclite and Gore Windstopper for example. dhb seem to accept this will be the case for many cyclists riding hard, so have addressed the problem in other ways. Firstly the jacket has a mesh liner. This doesn't make it more breathable, it just minimises the unpleasant feeling of your sweat dripping down the the insides of your jacket! Secondly there is venting-galore; the jacket has vents on both sides at the front and right across the back. It's hard to say how well they work, I couldn't feel cold air through them - although perhaps that's a good thing (in the video below you can see the back vents open, so it must make a difference). Much more noticeable were the pit zips. I've never been a big fan of pit zips on mountain jackets - often far more hassle than they are worth - but the pit zips on the EQ2.5 are easy to use even whilst on the bike and make a very noticeable and significant difference, cooling you and letting a lot of sweat quickly evaporate.

Autumn cycling in Helsinki from Toby A. on Vimeo.

I've been wearing the EQ2.5 over the last few weeks commuting in weather about as miserable as it gets in Helsinki. Late November days are so short it seems it is always dark or getting that way. The temperatures have been fluctuating between just above freezing and about 6 degrees. It's windy, it's soggy, the bike paths are damp and muddy. In these conditions the EQ2.5 has been pretty good, although even in these cold and drizzly conditions I get way to hot if I wear a microfleece mid-layer under it. So I've been wearing it over just a base-layer and with the pit-zips open more often than not. Like that I've been warm but not too hot, nevertheless the jacket is still damp to the touch inside due to the breathability issues after my hour-long commute and my base-layer damper than it would be with my normal system.

So, overall, the EQ2.5 is a well-designed, -cut and -made waterproof jacket for serious cycling. My reservation though is how many cyclists need waterproofs? A jacket identical in design and cut to the EQ2.5 but made of a windproof, highly breathable but NOT waterproof material could easily become my main jacket for 3-season cycling. For the cyclists in rainier climes, perhaps a commuter who rides daily regardless of the weather, the EQ2.5 may well do good service on wetter days. Also, if you are one of those lucky people who don't perspire too much, even when working hard, it may be perfect in autumn and winter. But for me it's too heavy and bulky to carry in case of rain but not breathable enough to wear when it's not. For me once the temperatures are below freezing I don't need a waterproof but in temperatures much above 5 degrees I quickly get too hot in the EQ2.5. So, whilst it is a well made and reasonably priced cycling jacket, for me it only works well in a rather narrow niche of conditions.

To follow in the next few days; a review of the dhb Vaeon Zero Padded Bib Tight.

Dark times: November bikepacking on the Ilvesreitti (Lynx route), Häme, Finland.

Bike packed for bikepacking. Swollen stream from the autumnal deluges behind

Hillbilly country

The older I get, the more I can’t ignore it, November is a shitty month in southern Finland. Snow is a rarity but so is sun. Do expect darkness, rain, wind and misery. Today, where I live, the day was 7 hours and 4 mins long, and when I say ‘day’, don’t get over excited: with 100% cloud cover, the skies have gone from black to grey and back to black once more. 6 hours of greyness and drizzle; that was the day. It’s interesting to note that we’ve actually lost over an hour and half of daylight since the first of month as well. So like I say: November - it really is a shitty month.

Old collapsed farm building, quite normal in rural Finland

Last weekend my son had a Scout camp to go to. In a fit of making-myself-do-something-I-might-otherwise-not-do, I volunteered to take some of kids up early on Saturday and bring them home on Sunday. The plan was, once out in the countryside, I’d stay and do something outdoorsy rather than drive there and back twice in two days. Climbing was one possibility, but didn’t quite work out. Rock climbing in November is always a bit marginal, so perhaps I didn't miss out on much. Instead I decided to go for an overnight bikepack trip near where I was taking the kids. I mentioned in a past post I've been to various parts of what are called the "Häme Lake Uplands", and have the outdoor recreation map to the area. Using the map I figured I find some sort of circular route around the Liesjärvi National Park and taking in what I presumed might be good single track riding on bits of the 250 km long Ilvesreitti long distance hiking trail. It didn't quite work out like that.

The 'path' as state of mind...

The map is great, showing loads of different potential adventures in this area. Besides the Ilvesreitti itself crossing the whole region, there are loads of other, much shorter circular paths that join it for sections; canoeing routes; cycling routes using quiet back roads; and even a long distance horse riding trail. Someone has been investing in the Ilvesreitti, there are plenty of signs and waymarks where it crosses roads and the like but actually in the forests, the path is almost non-existent in the places where I tried riding it. There are strips of faded plastic tied around trees every 50 metres or so. They take some effort to spot but you need to, because the path on the ground in places just disappears. There are little bridges and such across ditches, a few duckboard sections here and there, but over all the sense you get is that not enough people are using the route to really make an actual trail on the ground. Sections were essentially unrideable and I was pushing or carrying my bike. It's not easy hiking even without a bike.

...rather than geographic reality

In other places the route follows pre-existing dirt roads which make for easy mountain-biking and perhaps rather dull hiking, but don't get complacent because the route will suddenly leave the road and head off into the forest with just a few strips of plastic on trees showing you the way! It's interesting, because if I have any complaints about Finnish national parks it's that they make the hiking trails idiot proof: so many waymarks that walkers don't really need to take any responsibility for themselves in navigating. I followed the Ilvesreitti for maybe 20 kms or so of my trip and found that I was consulting my map and compass regularly, and backing that up from time to time with the GPS on my phone. I could imagine anyone used to the more normal Finnish marked trails finding the bits of the Ilvesreitti I followed frustrating and easy to get lost on. I eventually bailed out after a good few kms of pushing and carrying my bike where the trail follows the northern shore of Onkimaanjärvi (just east of Liesjärvi national park). After the autumnal deluges, the path was underwater at one point, so I escaped away from the lake, giving up on the trail for the nearest logging tracks.

The map showed a laavu on the shores of a small lake called Kivijärvi. I realised that it was past 3pm and overcast, meaning I didn't have a lot of daylight left, so it only being a few kms from where I had escaped from the bike-pushing torture on the Ilvesreitti, it seemed a like a good bet. The main thing I wanted was a fireplace and some dry wood, which often comes with hikers' laavus in Finland, and I wasn't disappointed with this one. The wind meant most of the smoke from the fire went into the laavu which was unfortunate, but considering that my gas stove was malfunctioning (until a little emergency repair work with the pin from my swiss army knife later) it was great to have the fire to cook my food on and boil tea and coffee water.

The inky dark of a cloudy November night

 By 8pm I had ate, drunk and fixed my stove, so I realised there wasn't much else to do beside let the fire go out, roll out my sleeping bag in the now less smokey laavu, and go to bed. I think that's the earliest I've been to bed in years. It was a very dark night, only one electric light visible off in the distance and the stars and the moon hidden behind thick clouds. The noise of the wind driven wavelets on lake slapping against the shore and the gusts of wind kept away the claustrophobia that all pervading darkness can bring. I got stuck into a new book, but after 45 kms of biking (or bike pushing!) that day I soon went off to sleep.

The laavu fire bucket made an excellent windbreak

Trail signs; we're just missing the trail!

Dawn on Sunday was marked by a slow and subtle change from blackness to greyness. The wind was blowing straight off the lake and into the laavu. It wasn't desperately cold, a few degrees above freezing, but the dampness, wind and greyness made getting out of my sleeping bag and unattractive prospect. Eventually I did, and once breakfasted, packed and back on the bike it wasn't too bad. I rode around the top of Liesjärvi on some pleasant quiet roads and into the national park. Virtually no one else was around, so the highlight of the day was riding along the amazing two kms long esker ridge of Kyynäränharju that splits the lake in half. I imagine in summer this could get quite busy but I saw no one else. After that I did some much better, technical single track riding through to Korteniemi Heritage Farm. Leaving the farm area I took another footpath that turned out to be a bad move as it followed duckboards for a couple of kms through a swamp. Normally riding duckboards is a fun challenge of your riding skills, but these were in lousy shape, often broken and with a gap in the middle big enough to catch even the fat tyres on my mountain bike. They are also as slippery as hell after the autumn of rain. Even just walking on them and pushing the bike was no easy task. Duckboards escaped, it was nearly back at the main road. Once on the road, now in real rain rather than just the drizzle of the morning, just a few kilometres of tarmac bashing had me back to the car and the closing of the circle.

The esker ridge of Kyynäränharju, Liesjärvi, Finland from Toby A. on Vimeo.

The woods are rather dead feeling at this time of year; the leaves are all now just brown mulch under your tyres, all the ferns and grass have died back and perhaps most noticeable is the almost total absence of any type of bird song. Biking should be (if you have everything running well) very quiet, so I have had far more close encounters with wildlife when riding than even whilst walking; but on this trip - nothing. There must have been moose around somewhere because I saw a standard huge Finnish hunting party out to shoot something, but if the moose were about they must have been sensibly keeping their heads down.

Brown and grey

Overall? By no means a bad trip, but there is something melancholy about this time, these dying weeks of the year. Nevertheless, without it we would neither appreciate the glaring purity of the thick midwinter snows and hard frosts, nor the manic abundance of life and growth that is the short northern summer.