When I lived aboard in the bay, I got around in my paddling/sailing dinghy. Now that I’m living ashore I have an e-bike.
Back when I was mostly hanging at Moonhole, Bequia I had a 21 speed mountain bike. Moonhole to Port Elizabeth took half an hour – once I got back in shape. Early in my Carriacou years I had an 18 speed mountain bike.
I was younger then, I’m 78 now. I now have an e-bike, recently acquired. It has a 500 watt motor, a seven speed derailer and fat tires. It outweighs my mountain bikes by three to one. Pathfinder is somewhat squat, kind of handsome and is a nice shade of green.
According to marketing, you should be careful about getting him wet – but you can ride in the rain.
One of the 500 watt e-bikes I looked up had a warranty limit on climbing slopes, ten degrees. On tropical islands, where it doesn’t snow, some roads are much steeper than that. The rutted road from my home up to the main road has a short stretch of eighteen and a half degrees – measured with my ’smart phone’. At first, I walked the ’bike up that part with motor assist. Now I motor that part with heavy pedal assist. The main road is less dramatic with maximum grades on the order of ten degrees. When I feel the motor is working too hard I add pedal assist – which adds significant power. I intend to treat my e-bike well, to make it outlast me. The exercise from pedaling helps keep me in the race.
A minor accident in a car can be expensive. On a bike it hurts – or worse. I rode many thousands of miles in Boulder, Colorado and its environs, where bike paths and designated bike lanes were abundant and drivers were used to sharing. Here on Carriacou the roads are barely wide enough for two-way traffic and often edged with seriously dangerous storm drains. One stays within the bounds of the road. The road is also shared with people, sheep, goats, cows and other bikes. And cars parked half off the road and vehicles stopping in the road to talk with each other or to someone along the way. Happily, the traffic is usually light and they practice what I call cooperative driving. And drivers are patient to a point. As I have said before, Carriacou is one of the last outposts of civilization.
Pathfinder is the name the manufacturer painted on him. I regard it as a misnomer. He is not designed for the walking speeds and slower that one often wants when riding off road – like I did with my 18-speed mountain bike, when I was strong enough to provide the power myself. Pathfinder’s marketing touts speed – 20 mph under power, 25 with pedal assist. I ride slowly, half that speed and less. And carefully. My eyes are bad and I’m not as strong and quick as back when.
Fortunately the main roads on this island are in fairly good condition. Even so, there are speed bumps and a scattering of bumps or small holes that can slam the seat into your privates if caught by surprise. The answer is slow speed and/or good eyesight. On questionable stretches, I stand on the pedals, knees slightly bent. Marketing claims the fat tires help some. (Softer tires use more power, decrees range. I accept that tradeoff.)
Since I am being careful, I remind myself of rules that were once automatic. Parked cars get a berth that assumes a door is about to open in front of me. Or someone will dart out from behind a car. I give pedestrians a wide berth and maybe the bell or a hail – they can’t hear me coming and they sometimes make unexpected moves. I do not crowd to the edge of the road for passing traffic and I sometimes wobble to appear a little unsteady as they approach. And don’t ride into puddles.
A reminder to us Americans. Remember to drive on the left. Thus it is the right turn, not the left turn that crosses opposing traffic.
Wear a helmet. I do. Wear full leathers, gloves and leather boots. I don’t. Make your own luck.
I don’t put up with dogs that chase me. Serious. I start by roaring at them with the master’s voice, stop if they persist, and chase them (on my bike) if they still don’t understand, roaring insults and obscenities at them the whole time. I have even chased dogs home and thrown rocks at the house. I make a spectacle of myself. Here’s the thing. Dogs chase bikes because they are already running away from them. But dogs are cowards. If you chase them, loudly assuring them that you are the alpha, it is they who flee. I’ve had people say, ’But that’s just how dogs are.’ To which I reply, ’Well, that’s just how I am.’
I have no problem with well-behaved dogs. Or with well-behaved people, for that matter.
Do I need a license or does my bike need a license? Not according to my attorney.
This is the beginning of the age of global warming, so consider my ’carbon footprint’. Long ago I walked to town and walked or rode the bus home – Carriacou was my walking island. In recent years I take the bus both ways. Now I have an electric bike, I no longer share in the bus’s carbon footprint. But I recharge the ’bike’s battery with GrenLec, which generates with diesel.
By the way, I have been sampling the science behind global warming since the turn of the century and increasingly, daily, hear examples of its consequences on the world news. It is happening and this is only the beginning. Politics and convenience be damned, this is for real. But developing and implementing sustainable power will be great for the economy. Let’s get with it.
… My little yacht, Ambia, was entirely solar and I paddled or sailed my dinghy. Now GrenLec powers my refrigerator, my devices and some of my lighting. And now my e-bike.
Boy was I excited when it arrived! (As expensive as it was!) I know what bikes are and how they work, but haven’t had one for years… I’m talking about what Europeans call a ’push bike’, not my new motor-powered bike. I spent hours assembling and adjusting it as Lorraine, my purchasing and shipping agent, watched in amusement. Then, since the veranda on which I assembled it is on the second floor and the stairs up to it are steep and narrow, I ’launched’ the ’bike somewhat like launching a dinghy. I lowered it down the steep stairs with block and tackle.
On a next day, after checking battery, tires, brakes and tying tools and tire pump to the rack, I took my first ride. I saw how it behaved under pedal power in the open space of the neighboring boatyard. Not bad but heavy.
Then we hit the road, a couple times around the blocks in Harvey Vale then up the hill to Belmont. Thence the scenic seaward route aceoss the side o the hill to Six Roads.
One of the six roads is a dirt track back to Harvey Vale, which climbs along the side of the hill to a saddle, then plunges down a rough road with loose rocks to the Harvey Vale School. Okay Pathfinder, let’s see what you’ve got… okay old man, let’s see what you’ve still got.
Somehow I lost the trail and turned around. Coming down I rode into a depression that my old eyes misread. I went over the handlebars and the ’bike followed me down. I landed on my head and both hands – and was glad I was wearing a helmet. Both hands and one leg were bleeding and I had a cut above one eye. Nothing broken. I sat in the shade for a spell contemplating what next, as I cleaned up the blood with paper towels that I always carry in my pocket. I could call Toko to pick us up with his truck. But Pathfinder was undamaged and I seemed still to be functional.
I stopped by Lorraine in Belmont. She cleaned my wounds and said that I needed to go to the hospital for stitches. Then she patiently waited for me to come to the same conclusion. She called her favorite cab and went with me. First the Covid test, of course, then the wounds got cleaned and stitched. Lorraine insisted that I leave Pathfinder at her place and take the taxi home. Thus ended my first ride.
I came to the obvious conclusion. No more accidents. So far, so good. But I no longer take Pathfinder path finding.
Nonetheless, Pathfinder gets me around, even sticking to the good roads. I have now ridden to town many times, done a couple of trips to Windward, and Pathfinder makes getting to stores in Harvey Vale almost easy.
The motor controls have a twist ’throttle’, which is the only motor control I use. The throttle leaves a lot to be desired. It has a dead zone then, at minimum power, starts the ’bike at a brisk walk, which is faster than I walk a bike up hills – or ride a rough trail. The little black box also has a switch that selects three levels of power assist. It runs the motor at level 1, 2 or 3 regardless what you apply to the pedals… as long as the pedals are turning. I tried it out and deem it useless – unless, maybe, I was riding long, uniform stretches of road such as are not found in the islands. Pathfinder is a ’500’ and there is a ’500T’ for five hundred more. ’T’ is for torque, apparently according to the effort applied to the pedals. Probably useful, but I’m getting good with the ’throttle’.
The black box with its tiny screen, dark grey LDC on light grey background, has a dazzling array of drop-down menus with which you can set counters, turn on the lights (which are bright) plus I forget what else. Here is what I need to know: how to turn it on, using the throttle and that using brakes turns off the motor. That gets me around in the daytime.
Here’s a little irony. An electric bike is designed to help us up the hills – a pedal bike with power assist. But I see it as a weak motorbike with pedal assist. It is, however, good transportation.
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