Meet the Adventure-Ready Soma Jawbone

Over the years, we at Soma have been truly amazed at how the modern bicycle has allowed all types of folks to travel the across continents and be immersed and mesmerized by the great outdoors even as much of humanity is often living in more and more in urban and suburban sprawl. Whether you enjoy the camaraderie of a weekend bikecamping trip or are hooked on doing week-long solo adventures, we salute you. And your passion encourages us to build better tools for the experience.

While our popular Wolverine monster cross frame and our Juice and Riff hardtails are super-capable for the majority of cyclotourists and bikepackers, we recognize there are many of you - after being out a different trips on different terrain and riding different bikes - find themselves wanting more of one thing and maybe less of another. 

Basic idea: A drop bar bikepacking/touring bike that fits true mountain bike width tires (up to 29 x 2.25" and 27.5 x 2.6" with decent mud clearance -- depending on frame size and drivetrain choice). 

Why would I try this over using a Wolverine, a gravel or CX bike for bikepacking?

- More stability while loaded thanks to a longer wheelbase and slightly stiffer design

- Tackle more rugged conditions with fatter tires 
- More three pack mounts

Why would I try this over a Juice or Riff or other hardtail frame for bikepacking?

- You don't think you need a suspension fork and you want to run drop bars
- Slightly lighter in weight

- More room in the front triangle for gear
- More responsive handling on asphalt 
- More sizes for better fit
- Geometry has higher stack to make it easier to use the drops on drop bars

Why would I try this over a Saga Touring Frame or similar heavy duty touring frame?
- Not super stiff, so still enjoyable to ride off-road unloaded or to commute on.
(We don't tout the Jawbone as a traditional touring frame, but it can do the job, if you can live without a kickstand.)

While it seems the Jawbone might be simply a mash between the Wolverine and the Juice, the geometry is designed from a clean slate. Stack is higher than either to make it easier to build a bike where the riders can more comfortably run drops high enough so the drops are more practical to use. This also creates a large space in the triangle for frame bags and gear. Please look carefully at the geometry chart when selecting a size, even if you have owned a Wolverine or Saga before.

 

The Jawbone is offered in two versions. 

The A-Type is for those who feel a simpler design with less moving parts makes for a more reliable, thus better touring bike. It also adopts more current standards like thru-axles, which offer a stiffer connection to the wheel.

The B-Type is for those who like to tinker and appreciates practical bells and whistles. The Broski thru-axles allow to run the bike with derailleurs or geared hubs like Rohloff and if either fails on a trip, it can be run as a single speed. The sliders on the B-Type allow you shorten the chainstay to 435mm for a sportier ride or 455mm for a more stable ride.
The B-Type maintains compatibility with QR wheels standard. We know there are quite a few of you who find QR wheels quite reliable for long distance touring and gravel. It is the technology you know and it is still easy to find and cheap to replace.

Find out more at www.somafab.com

Optional fork for A-Type:
Steve Potts Type II-R MTB fork. Unique looks. Note: Unlike the frame having flat mount ,
the fork has an IS mount. This makes it easier to run a 180mm rotor, if that is your choice.

Optional fork for B-Type:
Simple efficient unicrown design. Has three-pack mounts angling rear and front.
Plus dedicated pannier rack mount on inside and outside the leg.

Jawbone B-Type Build (Size 54cm)

Cape to Kapp: Facing The Pandemic in the Middle of a Solo Tour

About 147 weeks ago, Teresie Hommersand began her solo bike tour from Capetown, South Africa. Her destination is Kapp, Norway (thus Cape to Kapp). Of course with all these types of endeavors, the journey is more important than any destination. Wish her well and learn more about her 13,700 km ride going from South Africa to Norway and her charity crowdfunding campaign on her Facebook page and Instagram.  The last time we posted one of her travel stories she was just leaving Africa by crossing the Suez Canal. Thru 2019 and this year she has gone thru Turkey, Greece, and is in Europe now. This is her account of touring thru Austria and Germany in the midst of nation-mandated security measures to slow the spread of Covid-19.

Unforseen Challenge

Amongst the many challenges I thought I might face cycling solo from South Africa to Norway on my Soma Saga, a pandemic was never one of them. None of us saw this coming, but now it's affecting our lives in various ways and to various degrees.

Teresie's Soma Saga in front of a blocked off bicycle bridge in Austria.

Uncertainty

I was in Austria when the first regulations intended to prevent the spread of COVID-19 came into force. The plan was to stay a little bit longer in the country, but with all the uncertainty and the possibility that I would not be allowed to cross the border to Germany next, I sped up to avoid getting stuck. As I approached Salzburg, the border city, I got news that the next day the German chancellor was going to give an update on the situation in Germany and possibly implement even stricter rules. I then decided it was best to cross the next day. But how?

Strategy and Butterflies

All the borders were already being checked by the police, and only goods and commuters were allowed to cross. You were only allowed to travel, if you had a darn good reason. Does what I do fall into that category? I looked into other options. Finding places I could cross that was still not controlled. I found a walking path through a neighborhood. Friends told me about small bicycle bridges across the river that borders Austria and Germany in this area. Others said I could cycle through the forest at night. I just had to make sure I didn't stray into the military area nearby. In the end I decided to cross at a police checkpoint, after I learned that it was illegal and you could risk high fines, if you tried to cross the border in any other way. I had butterflies in my stomach. It would be one thing to be told I couldn't cross, but it would be another thing to be told me I had to get on a plane and fly back home. After all my two and a half year tour across continents was to avoid flying because of climate change.

Border Crossing

I arrived at the border. 'Hi!'. They were nice. 'What you're doing is certainly unusual and a bit tricky to categorize'. 'Is there any ways that you can get on a train?'. 'I'd rather not'. After about 10 minutes of the police trying to understand my situation and them thinking long and hard about if it qualifies as a transit or not, they said it was ok. 

'You can continue'. 

Woo-hooo!!!!!!! What a relief. So happy. 

I had the biggest smile as I took my first pedal strokes in Germany. Not long after I came past the mentioned bicycle bridges I considered cycling across to avoid the police check point. They were completely blocked and the Austrian army was even patroling this normally sleepy riverbank in their army vehicles. So surreal, and so glad I crossed the border in a legal fashion.

Shut-Down

However, now the real challenge began. With everything closed, I had limited access to water, food was ok, but finding a place to charge my phone was problematic. I've spent a lot of time in churches lately, charging my phone, as this is the only place that's open. Because of the charging situation I've also reduced the usage of my phone to pure navigation and absolute minimal communication with others. Pretty much all toilets are closed which is not a problem in itself if it wasn't for that this part of the world hardly has any wild nature, only wide open farmland or people.

It has been more of a challenge to find places to set up camp for the night.

Unlucky

I was hit hard by a cold spell and the illegal camping was made worse because of minus degrees and frost. Wild camping is not allowed in Germany so I had to pack up first thing in the morning so no-one would see me - before my sleeping bag and tent had a chance to dry. You can also forget about breakfast. It's too cold to stand around and eat. Before the coronavirus I used to stay with people, camp in their gardens and have the most amazing time together. Now at night I've been hiding out in bird lookout towers, behind tool sheds, at closed campsites and next to unfinished buildings. The enjoyment is to a large extent gone.

Sadness

I'm cycling through a new country but I'm not learning anything about it. I'm not engaging with people, only observing limited life in public. I didn't have a proper, meaningful conversation or connection with a fellow human being for a whole week. It makes me really sad. I've long ago realized that I could never cycle from South Africa to Norway without truly connecting with people along the way. I might be physically strong, but if I'm not happy, if my heart is not in the right place, I could not manage this.

The importance of people

I've learned this through countless, beautiful and most precious experiences along the 20,000 kilometers I've cycled to date spread out over two and a half years. But now, for the first time, I'm also learning it through not having this anymore. Because of social distancing. I am genuinely and deeply mourning the loss of these beautiful meetings with fellow human beings. When it boils down to it, they are what has kept me going this whole time.

In Slovenia, she rarely had to camp outside as locals invited
her into their homes.

Safe haven and the way forward

Right now I'm so thankful for finally having reached a good friend and to be staying under her loving and caring roof. Going forward, I'm preparing myself for rougher days. For longer periods of only cycling with a few select 'safe havens' (friends) along the way up to Denmark.

I know other people have it way worse than me during these times, but this is how I'm currently experiencing cycling from South Africa to Norway on my Soma Saga. 

Decompressing and Reflection After Months of Letting the Road Lead the Journey

Bill Heimann is a veteran tourer and retired bike shop owner. Every time he goes out he sends back a few paragraphs via e-mails to his friends and family whenever he reaches a new town and has some rest time. No public Instagram. No Facebook journal either (even though he participates on Facebook cycling groups.).
This most recent tour was to pedal from Athens, Greece to Norkapp, Norway with no clearly defined route. That is how he likes to do things. This was a particularly tough and significant adventure: learning how to ride big mountain hills agains, failing to finish a climb with 15% grades and having to go back down and find an alternate route, and turning 75 along the way.

This is his final entry of the tour written from the comforts of home after returning to Ashland, Oregon.

This morning I got up and made coffee.  Standing in the center of the front window of the humble abode enjoying the steaming cup, I viewed a doe, a fawn and a buck, an unusual site to see such a family.  But the viewing from my favorite morning place was also unusual for me.  It has been over 3 months since I last stood in this place.  A very good 3 ½ month journey has ended and another chapter has begun.

All my journeys have chosen their own paths and their own times.  I seem to have little say in the matter.  When I found myself in the very small Greek village with a broken bike I had no desire to return to the island of Evia, but the trip had its own idea of where I was to go.  After the repair and a stop in a cell phone store to talk with island born young man, I spent another, almost 2 weeks on the island.

My original trip plan was to try to find a way to cycle to Norkapp in Norway but the road would not have that plan.  Brussels and the Tour de France became the destination.  A wonderful hostess in Brussels, a friend in Prague, a meeting with a family from Tanzania at the Tour, all combined to show me the end of this journey.

As I sit here at my home computer talking with you, flashes of this journey come into my vision. The first days with John visiting an old touring friend in Phoenix, cycling to Bisbee, AZ through the Sonora desert and camping on Lake Pleasant for a farewell to John and the US. 
The first days of cycling, out of Athens in heavy traffic and up the steep hills to find a campground that had burned down in their version of the fires of our west, comes to my eyes.  The long, yet short ride to Thessaloniki that I thought would mark the end of Greece but again the road had other ideas.  A night with a wine producer added another day to my stay in the country before the final crossing into North Macedonia and the bringing of a new country to my tires.   
The meeting of a missionary family in the Skopje, the capital, a food tour and enjoying the old bazaar, where my hotel was located added 3 days to my stay in Macedonia.  Then Serbia, a country I had heard a lot of negative about, most of which turned out to be untrue.  The wonderful mountains with their great climbs, the friendly people and good food left me with a whole new picture of what is Serbia.

An unplanned short stay in Croatia, because I followed the river the wrong way did not give me enough time to really appreciate what I was finding to be amazing people.  Leaving the town of Mitrovica, I followed the Ibar NW instead of NE, forcing me to turn north into Hungary much earlier than planned, producing another example of the road leading the journey.

Budapest, Hungary brought the beginning of the end.  Now I was headed to Brussels and the Tour. 
Next, Munich instead of Passau due to a train mix up.  I wonderful mix up as I met a Spaniard living in Munich, Mixx.  How more appropriate could that have been.  We spent 2 great days together enjoying Munich and its beer gardens.  It is always great when what appears to be a problem shows itself to be a wonderful opportunity. 

Then to Karlsruhe, Germany, the home of a long ago friend I could not find, and back to cycling.  Up the Rhine River to the Saar and then along the Mosselle River and into Luxemburg, trying to be in Brussels by the 5th of July.  Good riding along the rivers with paved bikeways, no climbs or motor vehicles. Soon the bikeways became a little boring, just pedaling along though the little changing scenery – not really why I tour but great for making time.  One hundred kilometer plus days are easy.  I finally pedaled off the rivers into Luxemburg, back into the mountains and their ever changing views. 
My hostess in Brussels and I had been talking using What’s App and she suggested that I find my way to Wiltx, Luxemburg and pick up a ravel (pronounced havel) a rails to trails facility and follow it to Bastogne. Then another ravel to Libramont-Chevigny, Belgium to catch a train to Brussels as my time had run out.  No matter how tight my schedule is, I try not to miss the opportunities of meeting the locals and learning about their lives. So, extra delays always appear on my agenda. 

Marilyn is a great hostess.  She met me at the Brussels train station and we cycled to her narrow 5 story, 100 year old downtown home.  From then on we toured Brussels, watched the Wimbledon finals, ate good meals, worked on her 8 bikes, her son’s commuter and enjoyed each other’s company. 

The Tour de France was exciting and fun.  We walked around the Fan Zone buying once in a life time items, seeing the riders, talking with the sponsors and soaking up the atmosphere on Friday.  Then on Saturday during the Grand Depart I stood on the starting line.  While seeing the wonderful backs of all the taller folks in front of me I watched the start on the big screen in the Royal Plaz.  Sunday brought the Team Time Trial, with a great viewing place within touchable distance of the teams as they flashed by.  It also gave me the opportunity to meet a wonderful family from Tanzania there for the race.  The son is studying architecture in China, the daughter is studying in a Brussels high school and the mother and father work and live in Tanzania.   It was fun sharing with them how the race worked and learning about their very unusual lives.

Oh, you are talking to an international bike mechanic.  I went to visit a friend in Prague, leaving Marilyn with some instructions on getting parts for her son’s bike.  While in Prague she texted me asking what had to be done with the parts.  After a couple of texts back and forth we got the problem solved.  Think about that process, an American bike mechanic in Prague working on a bike in Brussels.

The trip to Prague was very nice.  To meet an old traveling friend, share a wonderful city with a food tour and learn about the culture while staying with a local, how much more can I say?

The road brought me to all I have seen and experienced on this journey.  Over many years letting it decide and direct my travels has always been my way.  I say that like I have a choice, I do not.  I hope the road continues to guide me the rest of my life and maybe beyond. 

Cape To Kapp: Sudan Was Flat Out Hot

Teresie Hommersand grew up near Stavanger, a city known as the oil capital of Norway. She remembers eating supper every evening off plates with the logo of the national oil and gas company on them. Somehow she became the "green sheep" of the family. She has lived in Uganda, Oregon, and Australia. Learn more about her 13,700 km ride going from South Africa to Norway and her charity crowdfunding campaign on her Facebook page and Instagram.

Unknown challenge ahead

On the 11th of April, I crossed the border to Sudan from Ethiopia on my Soma Saga! So ready for Sudan. So excited!! I had been told it was going to be hot. Very hot. But as I was getting my visa stamped, I had no idea that for the next nine days I would struggle on the bicycle seat in a heat unlike anything I've experienced before. I'm not exaggerating.

Sudanese cycling conditions

Sudan is extremely flat, the roads are long and straight (and at times boring) so I thought I'd easily do 100km in a day on my way to Khartoum. Most likely more. My mistake was to keep on pushing to reach this target, even though the elements were telling me not to. As soon as the sun is up here, it gets hot. Between 11am and 12pm to around 4pm, I'd say it's unbearable on certain days this time of the year.
Most people take it easy during these times.
I was cycling on a bike packed full of stuff.

After about 15 minutes of leaving the filled water bottles on my frame, the water is as hot as tea water. 

Constantly drinking, hardly peeing

Semi desert landscapes. Some shrubbery, the occasional tree. Lots of sand. Vast open landscapes. Blue sky. The regular animal carcass next to the road. On this stretch, I frequently flagged down vehicles to refill my water bottles. It's far between the taps and I didn't want to cycle with an additional 10 litres of water, making my bike super heavy. Pretty much all cars and trucks stop! It's easy. I even had one of the dangerously fast busses hit the brakes and give me cool water. Cool is key. After about 15 minutes of leaving the filled water bottles on my frame, the water is as hot as tea water. I'm not kidding. You are constantly drinking, hardly peeing and do certainly not feel refreshed after a sip. I'd be scared to cycle this stretch in this heat if it wasn't for the possibility of getting water from passing traffic. Very scared.

No escaping the sun

Have you ever had to fix a puncture next to the road at midday, in the scorching sun, with no shade, at 47 degrees celsius? (That's 117 degress F)  The heat influences everything. How you feel, what you think and how you deal with the situations you are in. I fixed this puncture, but upon my second one later this day, I just crawled under a tree that provided a tiny bit of shade (far from enough!!) and laid there. I was even so close to the next village. Less than one kilometre away. I could see houses, but I just could not get myself over there. The heat was too much. I had to wait it out. This is the first time on the trip I've actually laid down next to the road. The warm wind made it even worse. Hotter than a hairdryer! The less limbs you expose to it the less uncomfortable. How do you do that?

Fluctuating emotions

On this stretch, I teared up at least once a day. Once out of hopelessness (the road surface was so bad. It would not end). Several times out of gratitude (as when a truck driver handed me a sesame seed snack in the middle of nowhere in the desert!). A few times as I was feeling sorry for myself.

Celebration!

I had days I was only able to do 34km and 41km. It got a little better once I hit the Nile. One day, to my extreme surprise I did 100km! And finally, I reached Khartoum! My goal. The "desert oasis", where The Blue and White Nile meet. My host had suggested that we meet at Ozone. When I got there, I discovered that it was a full on café with cakes and ice cream!!! How fitting! A cyclist in Sudan's wet dream. I freaking made it!

Cape To Kapp: Peculiarities

Teresie Hommersand grew up near Stavanger, a city known as the oil capital of Norway. She remembers eating supper every evening off plates with the logo of the national oil and gas company on them. Somehow she became the "green sheep" of the family. She has lived in Uganda, Oregon, and Australia. Learn more about her 13,700 km ride going from South Africa to Norway and her charity crowdfunding campaign on her Facebook page and Instagram.
(This is her fourth journal entry for us)

When traveling in a country different to one's own, certain things one come across might seem peculiar - to say the least. When cycling, because you meet people you most likely otherwise would not meet and travel on roads you otherwise would not find yourself on, one is likely to discover more things that make one scratch one's head, laugh out loud or get chills down the spine...

For instance, the other day a conversation topic turned to names. What do people call their kids in Malawi? I don't find strange names like Gift, Precious, Memory, Admire and the likes, but what I learned is that there's a new trend in what to name kids - namely after new technologies. 

Now, you have kids running around called Machine, Internet,  or Headset! My absolute favorite is Missed Call!! Although Call Me Back comes pretty close too!

Another thing that may to many seem weird or incomprehensible is the level of superstition that exists in some of these countries. I was reminded of it one late evening, sitting on a cement porch, 40km short of the border between Zambia and Malawi.

That afternoon I 'pulled in' at a Maize depot, asking if I could pitch my tent for the night. It was a first for the guys working there, but they said "Yes. Of course!" The security guard that was going to be there that night showed me where to erect my tent and invited me to join him for dinner. 

"No. Thank you." I said.  

He insisted, saying I should save my pasta and can of baked beans for the next day. Even though I really wanted my delicious carbs and protein (mmmm), there was something about this man that made me feel like I could not say no. So, when the sun had set and everything was covered by the dark, I found myself eating nshima and eggs (with a bit of a crunch) on his cement porch in the flickering candlelight. We talked about everything and anything. He told me I had just missed one of the biggest traditional celebrations in the country– a festival where people from all over– the president included– come to see... The Masked Men's Dance. 

"When they put on their masks," my host told me, "they take on a different persona. They become animals."

But this is not the only time these men wear masks he continued. They are part of a group, a group that recruits members in the rural villages. Boys between the age of 12 and 15. They are being taken away for months at a time, schooled in the rules of the group at a remote graveyard. Why? Because the kids that do not graduate end up six feet under. Here they are  introduced to black magic. Seeing men being cut 'bleed' honey and buzzing bees. Putting fellow aspiring graduates in a bag. Tying it and beating it with a stick until it's red. Opening the bag and seeing their friend jump out without a bruise. Certainly no blood. 

There are rules for which roads people are allowed to use. If they find someone on one of the roads that people are not suppose to be travelling on, they will take them  and make them part of the group - that is if you know you're not suppose to be travelling on this road. But what about if you don't know? Like me? When I'm cycling? My host said that these people are both good and bad. Good in the sense that they won't do anything to you, if you are not aware of being on the 'wrong' road. They will even help you along.

It's a secret group. No one is suppose to know who its members are. They do not address each other by name or refer to each other in a way that means that they know who the others are. And here I am sitting alone with this guy, whose telling me all this, only able to see the white in his eyes and his teeth in the weak light from the candle. Then he leans in,  looks me in the eyes  and says "I am one of them". I suspected it all along. There was something about him. 

'You're not suppose to tell meeee!' I jokingly exclaimed. 

Then he laughed and took it back, leaving a bit of uncertainty with regards to the truth... The next day, as I got back on my Soma Saga, he wished me a safe trip... Needless to say, I never saw him again, or any masked men...