Quick Hits: Euro Styling, Bars on Wheels and What Happens to Summit Logs

Euro Styling L’Eroica is a Colorado cycling cult classic in the making.

L’Eroica, or the heroic, began as a long distance bike tour in Italy in the late 1800’s. By the early 1900’s, L’Eroica tours were held all over Europe and even in the U.S. In the spirit of vintage bicycles, wool jerseys and 100+ mile courses, Chris Brown, owner of Grand Junction’s Brown Cycles decided to resurrect the event. In May, a handful of locals showed up to ride 110 miles from Grand Junction to Glenwood Springs. EO photographer Devon Balet captured the underground event, complete with all its century-old charm and challenges.

Bar on Wheels

Next time you are in the mood for Critical Mass why not go for a ride with 16 of your closest friends … on the same bike … with a built-in bar? Meet MyHandleBar a 16-seat cruiser ready for the partying streets of downtown Fort Collins and Boulder. The bike originated in the Netherlands, but the company was started by Colorado native Theresa Preston. We loaded it up with EO contributors and somehow avoided law enforcement.

25

The number of scenic and historic byways in the state of Colorado that you can bag by bike. Create and track your own Bike the Byways checklist here.

Coloradostan

Between raising her six-year-old daughter and running Mountain2Mountain, a non profit which works to improve opportunities for girls and women in Afghanistan, Shannon Galpin rides her bike every chance she gets. In 2009, the Breckenridge resident became the first woman to mountain bike in Afghanistan, a place where women aren’t permitted to cycle. EO readers can join Galpin in celebrating her groundbreaking ride, which is now an annual event, at the Panjshir Tour (named after the Afghan province Galpin first rode), a celebration ride in Denver at Bear Creek State Park on October 15th. Post-ride, enjoy video footage from Galpin’s rides in Afghanistan, food and beer. Find out more: panjshirtour.org

Notes from on High What exactly happens to all those summit logs?

One of the tiny thrills when climbing Colorado’s mountains is cementing your signature in summit logbooks. Open the familiar gray and white PVC container, unfurl the weathered notepad, sign in, stuff the notepad back inside . . . and then what? Who exactly keeps track of your mountainous immortality? How did the books get there in the first place? And where do they end up?