This is the result of an experiment to put a topo map of Mt. Cameroon on my iPod nano. I’m hardwired with a fascination for maps of all kinds (my post Crowdsource Mapping Cameroon is but one example) so you might say this was inevitable. The 4GB video nano replaced my trusty 60GB iPod which died high up on Mt. Cameroon over a year ago, so it seemed a fitting tribute.

The video nano stores thumbnails in a 5 x n grid, with each photo sized at 220 x 176 pixels. So, ideally, a map should be scaled to 1100 pixels horizontally by a vertical dimension divisible by 176. I just so happened to have a scan of a Mt. Cameroon topo map cropped to 1100 x 880 pixels, which factors just right for the nano. Here it is (click for the full version):

I could’ve chopped it up in Photoshop, sure—but who has the time? One of Larry Wall’s three virtues of a programmer is laziness, after all, and who am I to defy the master? Python seemed like the best tool to slice and dice the map with but I was missing PIL, the Python Image Library. A roundabout Google search landed me at this guy’s page where, lo and behold, he’d done a neat job of coding just what I had in mind. Done and done!

His script supports iPod video, photo and nano thumbnail formats, so I was set (albeit a tad disappointed at not hacking it myself). It generates tiles like so:

…which when stitched together produce a nice map on the iPod nano like this (click for a bigger view):

You can, of course, select any tile with the thumbwheel and get the full-sized map segment. As a 1:500,000 scale topo map with 500 ft. contour intervals, it’s more of a novelty than a practical tool for someone navigating the mountain. But I still think it’s pretty cool. Good maps of Cameroon (and Africa, generally) are difficult to find. If I can get ahold of a more detailed topo of Mt. Cam, I’ll superimpose the popular hiking routes, huts, landmarks and so on.

Here’s a nano-ready zip of Mt. Cameroon to download.

Thanks to jbuhler’s Maps for iPod, the right way.

This post was inspired by Steve Jackson’s “Journey to Work” Flickr video that he posted last week. He encouraged others to participate, so this is my contribution.

The place I call home, Buea, is a scenic mountain town sandwiched between Mt. Cameroon and the Atlantic Ocean. It’s unique for many reasons, not the least of which is a gloriously pothole-free, four lane slab of asphalt with a center divider that stretches from the forest at the mountain’s base to the car park at Mile 17—a rarity for Cameroon. This road is built on one long, continuous hill and is bordered on both sides for its entire length by gutters that are a meter deep in places.

As an aside, these gutters have an odd habit of attracting unwary white men into their depths. I’m lucky to have never suffered a gutter fall, and I hope to keep it that way.

As African highways go, it’s a wonderful piece of engineering—and a cyclist’s dream. My house is near the top of said highway. This means I can (and often do) roll out of bed, slurp my morning coffee, push my bike out the front door and, after a few pedal strokes—coast all the way into the office. Time from home to work: less than five minutes. Carbon footprint? Nada.

Before I could shoot a video from the bike, I first had to find a way to attach a camera to the handlebars. Steve suggested strapping the camera to my head, but in the end I opted for a solution that made the best of what I had on hand. So without further ado, here’s my morning bicycle commute to work:

Needless to say, climbing back up this hill on the return leg takes a bit longer and makes for much less interesting viewing.

For those with an interest in bikes, here’s how I built mine in Cameroon (start at the bottom). If any gear heads are wondering about the “fixie” claim when I mention coasting, I’ve since traded-up to a fixed/free flip-flop hub. Life is good.

Since posting my interview with Colin MacNeill, I’ve received a number of email requests from gearheads asking for specs on Colin’s ride (which he has dubbed “Blessed”). So here, without further ado, is all the technical info a budding wanna-be adventure tour cyclist could hope for. Colin’s refined both his bike and gear after two grueling years of cycling, so if you find some inspriration in his setup you can thank him for taking the guesswork out of it for you:

Bike

• Complete bike is built by Orbit Cycles UK, model is “Expedition”
• Touring-specific steel frame with 26” mountain wheels
• Shimano XT components used throughout
• Upright threadless riser stem & ergo touring road bars
• Indexed bar-end shifters
• Cyclo-cross brake levers
• Schwalbe Marathon XR tires (front & rear) w/ Kevlar anti-puncture linings
• Front & rear Tubus racks
• SKS Expedition front & rear fenders
• Added front & rear lights powered by Lightspin dynamo
• Added two kickstands (to support luggage)
• Added human/animal homemade pepper spray deterrent bottle, mounted with rubber straps to head tube in anticipation of reported hostilities in Lagos, Nigeria (never used)
• Replaced front tire with wonky Chinese rubber in Senegal
• Broke original seat post, replaced with spare found in Spain
• Original pedals disintegrated in Spain, replaced with aluminum ones
• Aluminum pedals broke in Calabar, Nigeria. Replaced with wonky Chinese rubber ones (currently in use)
• Flags tied to handlebars representing Morocco, Ghana, Nigeria & Benin
• Cameroon flag & “Bikes not Bombs” stickers on rear mudguard
• “Une Bicyclette” sticker on front mudguard from PCV Jessica in Uganda
• Replaced original XT crankset & bottom bracket twice
• Currently using XT Hollowtech cartridge BB w/ XT crank (48x36x26, 170mm arms)
• Rear cassette is Sachs PG-850, 8 speed (11-32)
• Kept original gel saddle, added homemade vinyl cushioned cover obtained in Ghana
• Multiple layers of bar tape
• Handlebar-mounted compass

Gear

• Ortlieb panniers
• North Face rope bag used as all-purpose trunk bag/duffel/backpack, etc.
• Two gigantic U-Locks used in European cities (double as camp weapons in Africa) secured to front rack
• Terra Nova 2-man tent capable of sheltering both bike & rider
• 3-season sleeping bag & bivy sack
• Mountain Equipment Gore-Tex jacket
• Gore-Tex cycling pants (double as “formal” pants for special occasions)
• Fleece jacket
• Worn-out & replaced many clothing items like shirts, shorts, etc. along the way
• On fourth pair of sandals, currently favor wonky Chinese name brand knock-offs
• Basic Toolkit: adjustable wrench, cone wrenches, chain breaker, Park allen key set, Leatherman multi-tool, spoke wrench, grease, automotive oil used as chain lube
• Spare tire (folding) & tubes, patches
• Spare spokes, nipples, ball bearings & other misc. small parts
• Finds other spare parts as-needed along the route, usually in big cities (needs a new headset & pedals!)

Update: Here’s a YouTube clip I took after taking the above photos.

Today I was very happy to find a bright yellow and red DHL padded envelope waiting for me at work. It weighed a mere 1.5 pounds (you needn’t ask the cost to send it) and arrived in my hands an astonishing 72 hours from Seattle. It was proof positive that instant gratification of a sort is possible here in Africa if one has a co-conspirator at home who is willing to fork over for it. Given the extremely rare, precious nature of its contents, it was worth every penny and then some. A manifest of the goods:

• One set of SPD cycling cleats
• One R.E. Load top tube pad taken from bike in storage
• One “Live to Ride” spoke card
• One set bootlegged Battlestar Galactica Season 3 CDs packaged in hand-folded and manually typed sleeves
• Assorted stickers
• A favorite t-shirt from home
• A nice card exclaiming “good luck”

I was glad that my afternoon student failed to show because this meant I could rush home and put the final touches on the bike. After last week’s shakedown ride, I opted to convert the bars into a pursuit style better suited for climbing Buea’s endless hills by using the tried-and-true budget method of flipping and chopping them with a hacksaw. Any regret I felt for hacking up a perfectly good vintage drop bar vanished the moment I tried them on the street. The KHS track pedals, barely used, went back in the box and the old SPDs took their place. I will use the latter with a pair of Shimano SPD sandals, which couldn’t be more ideal for cycling in Africa.

Without further ado, I give you the finished fixie:

The long wait was finally over. What began as a half-baked plan more than six months ago is at last a reality. Building it would not have been possible without the help of a good many people. Thanks go to Donald at Peace Corps, Henry (my bike mechanic buddy in Limbe), my local welder, Harris Cyclery, Excel Sports and most of all Jessica and Paul in Seattle.

It still needs a name. African Queen has a nice ring, don’t you think?

Part of doing a shakedown ride on a project bike is to find out what can go wrong. Find it I did, indeed. Thankfully, it didn’t happen in so much of a spectacular fashion as it could have. Bike and rider emerged intact, for the most part, save for my ego. After a few spins around the quarter I decided to try climbing the series of long, undulating hills that lead from my house up to the Teachers’ Resource Centre where I work. I spent most of the time out of the saddle, but the bike felt stiff and climbed well. Even so, coming back from a six month stint on the couch I was feeling it. It didn’t help that February is one of the hottest months in Cameroon and I was riding during the peak of the mid-afternoon heat. Buea, which is mercifully spared the truly brutal heat of the lowlands, was getting warm enough for the locals to complain about it. When an African complains about the heat, you can bet it’s hot.

I made the TRC on the bike for all but for the final stretch of steep, deeply rutted road. There I found that my choice of 42×16 gearing left me with more chain inches than I could handle. Going downhill was a different matter. The 170mm cranks spun just fine as I negotiated the “death strip”—the narrow margin between speeding downhill traffic and the sheer drop into the straight-sided, half-meter deep open gutters that border virtually all the tarred roads in Buea. I was more concerned about the latter and felt fine with letting the taxis know it.

Everything was going okay until I hit the Great Soppo Market. It was Tuesday, market day, and half of Buea it seemed had gathered for the bi-weekly event. The four lane road choked down to two with streams of people, carts, hawkers, live animals and more overflowing into the street. Trying not to rely on the brake (and maybe to show off for the crowd just a little) I tossed in a series of short skips to check my speed. As any fixie rider will attest, skipping and skidding are two of the most fun things you can do with this breed of bike. At some point I felt the resistance give in the rear wheel and my cranks stopped spinning—a bad sign. As I suspected, the lock ring and cog had spun off the hub. Worse, the threads on the end of the alloy hub had been crudely machined flat against the stationary steel cog. There weren’t enough threads remaining for the lock ring to find purchase. End result: no fixed cog = no fixie.

Or was it that simple? After a solid day of no riding I hatched a plan. With a borrowed power drill and help from my local welder, I improvised a solution that, in theory, would permanently fix the cog while giving me a shot at removing it later. Given the unfeasibility of joining unlike metals with a welder, I sculpted a notch out of the outer surface of the exposed end of the hub and brought it to the metalworker. With a mix of Pidgin and pantomiming, I got the idea across. In no time he’d welded a bead onto the steel cog and filled the gap into the hub. The net effect was something like a key often used in machine work to fix two rotating parts. If need be, I surmised, it might be possible to drill it out and remove the cog—maybe. For now, I was happy. Pretty? No, but after some filing it didn’t look half bad. More importantly, it works! I put it to the test with a good skid and a series of punishing skips with nary a budge. Another small victory.