Thank you and possible new catalog update. Super short rushed blag, barely counts.
I’ve been working on a new catalog and wanted it to be—and KNEW it was going to be in paper. Not going to happen, now, but here’s the introduction before it gets finalized:
I was born in 1954 and grew up with outdoorsy catalogs. I loved the good ones, liked laughing at the crazy ones, and I read them cover to cover even when I was nine. The ‘60s Herter’s catalogs were nuts. George Leonard Herter made me believe that only fools bought duck calls that weren’t his brand, including calls by “Dutch” Lohman, Clarence (“Patin”) Faulk, and the legendary Nash Buckingham. With them (according to George, who painted newcomers and old-timers with the same broad brush), the vibrating reeds got sticky with saliva and the guttural clucks and dry-raspy quacks sounded like the squeals of piglets. The old Eddie Bauer catalog, before private equity turned Eddie into a women’s boutique, convinced impressionable me that “Bauer down” came from special geese that nobody else had access to. I clearly remember thinking, “why waste money on a North Face?” I liked the early 1973-ish Sierra Designs catalog that was all watercolors, no photos, and had the line, “We used to think chaps were for churls, but now…” (they offered rain chaps for the first time). For fifty years I thought a churl was something like an idiot or a sucker, but a few years ago I looked it up. The Stephenson’s/Warmlight catalog of tents and outdoor clothing mixed temperature regulation science with nude models, all members of the Stephenson family. You were a big man on campus if you had a Warmlight catalog, and it got passed around. In long pages of seven point type, it shot holes in mainstream approaches to insulation and design, and undoubtedly affected my distrust of mainstream anything. Jack Stephenson was a genius—he built rockets or something, until he gave it up for tents and gear. While the standard brands boasted of chevron- or slant-wall-baffles, Stephenson told you why they were bad. While others harped on conductive and convective heat loss, Jack Stephenson dwelt on evaporation and radiation. And don’t forget the nudes, in full color. Stephensons tents were built to withstand 100mph winds, and weighed from just under two pounds (for a two-manner) to a bit under four, for a four-manner. The old L.L. Bean and Orvis catalogs were decent and relevant to a outdoorsperson, but now you can open either one at random and find pastel cottons worn by hipless leisure class women whose equally hipless, silver-haired older husbands retired early and now like to sail, or check their lobster traps. I liked the old Filsen and Abercrombie & Fitch catalogs, with illustrations of pipe-smoking outdoorsmen, with the occasional outdoorswoman tending to camp. The Early Winters catalog had a tent (the Oval Intention) with small pockets for “your priceless unmentionables,” which I think of every time I see a small pocket on any tent, pack, or jacket. Most bicycle gear catalogs looked like grocery store inserts. The Palo Alto Bicycle Shop catalog had some useful bicycle info and tips, along with the pictures and prices. It seemed to take bicycles seriously, and I liked that.
The two monumental catalogs that changed my approach to equipment and life were the 1972 & 1973 Chouinard Equipment catalogs (written by Yvon, Tom Frost, and Doug Robinson), and the mid-‘70s to early ‘80s Rivendell MOUNTAIN Works catalogs (written by Larry Horton). Those companies weren’t desperate for survival or growth, they didn’t see their contemporaries as competitors, they were just on a different path. Both espoused gear and a point of view that questioned the trends, but did it quietly. Both went beyond specs and prices, deep into the thinking behind the design of gear and its use. They were wordy and contrary, and they didn’t sell complicated gear with exaggerated benefits. They told you how it was different and why it was good, left it up to you to use it right. Both seemed to assume that if you were interested, you’d want more than a photo, a price, and a promise of success. You’d want to read all about it and learn the specifics, and they gave you that. I wonder how they’d go over today, when readers are fewer and have less patience. I wonder that about this catalog, too.
I care so much about these bicycles and this gear that I get wound up trying to describe them. I like talking about details, and I go off on tangents (or as my former editor used to say, I “go into the weeds”). In any case, there are lots of ways to make a good bike, lots of options and opinions. This catalog is an explanation of our bicycles and our values, and be prepared to get dragged into the weeds, because I know I’ll go there plenty.
This catalog was designed, illustrated, and photographed by people at the top of their fields, but it’s not in the same league as Chouinard and Rivendell Mountain Works catalogs, because I wrote it. Those Larry, Yvon, Tom, and Doug-written catalogs were humbling, not in the award speech sense, where the award has the opposite effect as the winner praises the skills or craft of all the losers only to lift himself or herself above them all; but in the sense that I know I can’t reach them, it’s still a good try.
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If you've read this far, your minor reward are some pages from an old Rivendell Mountain Works catalog. Not sure how small the type will be, this is all rush-rush late after hours friday.
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The idea was one final paper catalog, or at least the first one since 2018. Since it costs a lot to lay out and print, maybe we’ll try to get one of those online flip-pager catalogs, if Shopify can allow that and somebody here can figure out how to do it. Anyway, I’m asking your future forgiveness for a heartfelt but amateurish layout. Shooting for early August.
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The tooling fundraiser is helping a lot, thanks so much..
Grant
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Below, me 1973 (age 19) on Mt. Shasta the morning after a night of 80 to 100mph winds, when the Bombshelter was the only one of fourteen tents still standing. The Bombshelter inspires our bikes.
and here's about the Jensen Pack. I used a Bombshelter and a Jensen pack exclusively for all of my outdoorsy-mountainy trips:
The Jensen Pack was designed by a guy named Don Jensen, who graduated high school in 1961, two miles from here. He designed it later, when he was a member of the Harvard mountaineering club, or something like that.
All for now!
G