The Bike2Power LightCharge USB charger is designed to work with a dynohub putting out 6 to 12V AC and supplies a regulated 5V DC up to 250mA through a standard USB connector. The LightCharge consists of the unit itself with integrated cable and a bunch of cable ties for attaching it to the frame.

The unit is remarkably compact compared to similar devices I’ve seen and used; not much bigger in diameter than a 50 cent piece. It has two push buttons to toggle between using the unit to charge via the USB port or to direct all the power to standard dynamo lights – in effect switching the charging facility on or off. The buttons are weatherproofed by a soft plastic cover. LEDs indicate which switch position has been selected.

The USB port is the standard size and has a cover to keep out dirt and water when it is not in use. When a USB plug is inserted it is a snug fit, but one should position the unit carefully to minimise the chance of water getting in or the plug shaking loose.  Placing the port horizontally would possibly be the best option.

The back of the unit has a plastic mounting block that is concave to fit on to most standard diameter tubes or handlebars. There are slots in the block for cable ties to secure it to the frame. As an example, I mounted the LightCharge on the underside of  the handlebars,  underneath the Garmin mount.

A three core cable comes out of the unit which is  long enough to run all the way down the forks to the dynohub. Two of these wires connect to the dynohub. If you have a Shimano dynohub the bare wires attach straight into the Shimano connector. If you have a Schmidt dynohub (as I do) you need to terminate the wires with spade connectors (not supplied). The third wire is terminated with a crimp joiner. The idea is to crimp the open end onto the wire leading to your headlight.

My setup is a bit different to the usual. First of all I don’t like having two sets of wires running down the fork. So instead I have a kind of extension cord running from the dynohub to the top of the forks that terminates with spade connectors the same as on the dynohub. Also, I like to run my lights all the time and the dynohub can run my lights and charge my Garmin at the same time. So instead of connecting the third wire to my headlights, I wired the headlights in parallel with the LightCharge. If I want to disconnect the LightCharge so it does not draw power, I use its switch as an on/off switch. If I want to run the LightCharge with full power, I can simply switch off the headlights.

For my first ride I just threw the unit into my handlebar bag and grabbed a retracting USB cable with a mini-B end to connect the LightCharge to my Garmin Edge 705. I set out along the Main Yarra Trail and Diamond Creek Trail towards Diamond Creek. These trails are largely unsealed and a bit bumpy so a good test for the mechanical connections. The LightCharge worked as advertised; the LED indicated correctly the switch setting and kept the Garmin charged while I also had the lights running.

I once calculated that the Garmin draws about 0.3W or one tenth of the dynohub output which is why I can run  the lights and keep the Garmin charged at the same time. Other devices may draw more power so this might not work for them. Also, keeping the Garmin topped up is one thing but recharging it is another thing altogether. I did a rough test where I allowed the Garmin to discharge about one third (the only gauge of this is a picture on the screen so it’s hard to be precise). With the LightCharge connected and headlights off I rode around and after about 2.5 hours gentle riding the Garmin was almost fully charged. This should give you the idea that fast recharging from a dynohub is not to be expected. One thing I did not test was recharging from completely flat. From experience, this is not usually very successful and the Garmin certainly wont operate until some minimum charge level is reached. In those situations you are better off recharging it with a PowerMonkey or equivalent.

A slight digression here for Garmin owners. The Garmin is quite picky about the type of USB cable you use. Basically, depending on how the pins are set up, it will decide if it is connected to a charger or connected to a computer. If it thinks it’s connected to a computer, even if only charging, it wont record your ride or show your data. Alas, my retracting cable was not set up properly and partway through the ride the Garmin switched into “computer” mode. Luckily I had also brought a proper Garmin cable just in case. I preferred the compactness of the retracting cable but I really wanted to record the ride and see the data. A quick cable change and all was well.

The LightCharge is compact and lightweight. The standard USB port makes it more versatile than units that use proprietary connectors, and it’s switchable so you can be sure your lights work when you need them or you can charge with full power if you want. Just be careful how you mount the unit to keep the USB port protected from the elements when it is in use.

The LightCharge Hub Dynamo USB charger is available for purchase online from Bike2Power for $67.95 (USD)

This climb has everything that the hardened cycling aficionado might want: a 40km continuous climb, an altitude gain of approximately 2650m and an average grade of 6.5%. No wonder this unique cycling ascent is known as ‘The Everest of European Mountain Passes’. This travel log account summarises a ride I shared with a Spanish cycling club and 9 dedicated members who were hellbent in conquering Veleta as their end of 2010 season cycling special! The age of the cycling group ranged between 45 and 70 years and the determination and effort produced was nothing short of outstanding!

Assault Veleta
Rising from the valley floor is probably a strange way to describe it when you are already at 800m altitude but the ride does in fact begin on the floor of the valley. Before setting off we decide to bypass the modern highway and its ‘comfortable’ 6% gradient and head for one of the mountain back roads. As we arrive at the base of the climb we quickly realise that the most daunting and difficult part of the climb is at the beginning, well before the silhouette of Veleta and its vertical wall even enters our line of vision. The first 3km, the hardest of the ascent, include seven spectacular switchbacks with an average grade of around 11% and sections in some curves above the 15%.  After about 7km the road eases slightly and continues on at a more realistic angle climbing up along the ridge at 5-6%.

It is not long though and after 12km of climbing the road presents us with a new feast of switchbacks; a total of twelve in the next 6km to be precise taking us to 2000m altitude. It is during this second section of endless switchbacks that we catch our first glimpse of the beautiful green-blue vertical wall which defines the Pico de Veleta and which afford magnificent views as we continue gaining height. We are snapped out of our reverie by the realisation that only half the job has been done and we are still far from the Veleta peak. By comparison, even in the Pyrenees or anywhere else, the effort so far would have been enough to reach the top of any famous mountain pass. Here though one must be patient if one is to climb the 1300m of further elevation gain to reach the summit.

Waiting to regroup at the 2500m altitude signpost and our last group member rides in as the clock ticks over 3 hr. We refill our water bottles and pack our warm-weather clothing and hear that the temperature down at Granada is nearing 35 degrees. At the top of Veleta there couldn’t be a bigger contrast – there the temperature is likely to be 10-15 degrees and wind-chill could see the temperature plummet exponentially. A couple of portable oxygen cans are also packed away should the 65% of normal oxygen levels create altitude sickness.

A drawcard for climbing Veleta is that the final section of road is guarded by a military barrier that prohibits the passage of civilian vehicles. As you gaze into the distance and towards the sheer vertical rock wall which characterises Pico de Veleta you cannot help but marvel at the engineering feat that enabled you to tackle this ultimate cycling challenge. This is now a mountain road in every sense. Only 12kmand 850m of further altitude gain separates you from cycling heaven!

From the military barrier the hairpins continue at an alarming rate and the slope hovers at 7 – 8%. In some places, too, the road twists tightly and rises into double digits. These steep pinches, whilst short in length, inflict considerable damage as the continuous effort and the lower oxygen levels at these altitudes take their toll. At this point the 2750m altitude signpost is reached and received with joy and great emotion. Its sandblasted shape is testimony to the severe mountain conditions that batter this area. It is here you take the opportunity to take stock of your achievement to date. The elevation of famous mountain passes such as the Gavia or the Gailibier are long in our wake and we now share company with some of the authentic myths of our cycling sport, such as, the Stelvio, the Agnello, the Iseran or the Bonette. We pay our respect to these climbs but appreciate that with over 600m of elevation gain still awaiting us the challenges is still tantalisingly in front of us but in reach!

Adding to this challenge is the vagaries that snowfalls can present to the aspiring rider. Depending on the season it is not uncommon to find fields of ice strewn across the road. As we pass the magical figure of 3000m altitude we pass a ravine and still during late July we uncover walls of snow up to 3m high in places. On this occasion we are lucky indeed as we follow alongside the ice walls for a few hundred metres with no sign of snow. The air is crisp through this section, the summer sun hidden behind towering peaks and a chill enters the numbing body.

Cycling Heaven
From 3100m altitude we swing around a hairpin to the right and as our eyes lift from the road we come across the completely vertical wall of Veleta: “We still have to rise more? But how much more? It seems to be further away than before!” The asphalt has now become weathered through years of ice action and as we enter the last hairpin it disappears and the final authentic wall is all that remains. As we scale the final metres our eyes fix onto the survey column which defines 3392m altitude and more importantly for us the finish line! Resting at the survey column our exhaustion disappears and a sense of exhilaration takes hold as it dawns on us that we have conquered the beast of a mountain. We find ourselves in the highest point than can be reached by bicycle on the European continent. The effort was definitely worth it!!!

The previous day we had ridden over the Plockenpass to watch a gruelling stage of the 2010 stage of the Giro d’Italia on the Zoncolan.  Ivan Basso and Cadel Evans produced a spectacular race on its tough slopes. The next day we chose a gentler pace and we headed to Italy from Southern Austria via the Kartitscher Sattel.

The green meadows of Austria

The Kartitscher Sattel is a gentle roll upwards to 1529 metres. The pass takes in well manicured meadows pleasant villages and the ever present spectacle of the Southern Austrian on your left.

Typical view along the Kartitcher Sattel

As we swept into Italy and towards Dobbiaco, we suddenly realised the change in geography on our left as we closed in on the Dolomites.  We glanced with trepidation at the looming peaks like the Tre Cima di Laveredo.

The view over our shoulders towards the Dolomites

We headed straight for the Giau via the Passo Tre Croci.  The Dolomites were in complete contrast to the softer, greener slopes in Austria.  Rocks piled on rocks, meringue shaped peaks and improbable finger-like rock formations.  Millions of years ago this was a coral reef – the sea retreated and left these impressive rock formations that we see now.

Climbing the last part of the Giau

We had reached the 120 km point in the ride and we were concluding the last part of the journey.  However, we were still climbing the hard slopes of the Giau.  The elevation gain on the Giau (Alt: 2236 m) is 716 metres and has an average slope of 8.3%.  At 8.5 kilometres in length this was the last major obstacle before the drop down to our final destination Alleghe.  At the top of the Giau the huge cathedral-like monoliths dominate the vistas and on a clear day makes an ideal location for photographs.

Passo Giau (2236 metres)

Reflecting on the Dolomites

We rolled down into Alleghe after 140 km with tired legs and heads loaded with mountain images.  This is a challenging ride with over 2700 metres of climbing and is well worth the effort for the dramatic changes in landscape and beautiful scenery alone.  Later in the week we were to climb the passes of the Giro like the Mortirolo and Plan de Corones but this route still stands out as a classic in its own right.

Alleghe and taking in the view after over 140 km and 2700 metres of climbing

The Mediterranean and the start of the Trans-Pyrenees Challenge

Heading up on Day 2

Day 2 and the cycling adventure proper started. We headed to Solsona in the foothills of the Pyrenees. The day would see us initiated into the Pyrenean experience and taken over some moderate hills like Coll de Castell? and some short sharp ones. The ride was long – 150 km – and would be a great chance for the group to get to know each other and for the legs to understand the level of commitment needed to finish this demanding ride.

Climbing to Santuari de Sant Pin?s

The medieval town of Solsona is nestled a stone throw away from the cols of Boixols and Jou. These two cols are a must-do on the itinerary of anyone cycling in the area. Both cols are hard climbs and close together but you will be rewarded both times with superb fast sweeping roads. The Col de Boixols descent is like a fair ground ride with technical broad curves and tunnels thrown in for good measure.

Tunnels coming off the Col de Boixols

Riding in formation and heading into the hills again

With hidden cols like Boixols and their more famous cousins like the Portillon and the Bonaigua this ride is designed to pass over lesser known routes but still take in the mountains roads that the professional cyclists race over. The Bonaigua is 23 kilometres long and 2070 metres high and on day 4 would take us, via the col du Portillon, to France.

Admiring the views – Day 4

Riding out of the Canyon

The climb of the Bonaigua

We needed the miles and those cols to warm our legs up for Day 5. We were about to embark on the longest day of the week and probably the hardest.  Peyresourde, Aspin and Tourmalet – 120 kilometres and 3,400 metres of elevation gain. Cool clear skies awaited the riders and we set off with over 20 riders split into 3 groups for the demanding Queen stage of the Trans-Pyrenees Challenge.

Climbing the Aspin

Racing up the Tourmalet

The weather was holding out and some prayers were made for the next day when we would be taking on the Cols of the Aubisque, Marie Blanque and Ichere – 2130 metres of elevation gain. Prayers were unanswered as we approached the Aubisque but we were in for a real delight. The clouds remained low so we were treated to spectacular cloud inversions. We could not see the Cirque de Litor but the low lying clouds created an impressive panorama for the riders.  Another day completed and we were 105 kilometres closer to the Atlantic coast. The cyclists were anticipating the excitement of the final day and the roll over to the St. Jean de Luz on the Atlantic coast.

Approach to the Aubisque

No clear skies but spectacular views between Soulor and Aubisque

So close now to the Atlantic that the weather systems were being dominated by fronts sweeping in from the ocean. We started in rain and the whole of day 7 was dominated by showers and sparkles of sunshine. This was to be a hard day of cycling (2nd hardest statistically in the week) which took in the cols of Bagargui, Ispeguy and Otxondo. Bagargui is a hard climb. I glanced occasionally at the VDO computer to check the gradients on it and there was a long section when it didn’t go below 15%.

Out of the mist an eagle has landed and is wondering about all the fuss!

Eagles and vultures soared around us in the mist – sometimes our only companions as we strung out on the hard slopes. Ispeguy and Otxondo were the last climbs of the day and the challenge. Any normal cycling day and these would be punched over without much fuss but invoices were being collected and legs were almost spent. The last few miles to the Atlantic were weary but filled with an enormous amount of satisfaction. We had just ridden our bikes across the entire Pyrenees Mountain Range – 845 kilometres and over 16,150 metres of elevation gain in 1 week. A great week of epic cycling and a massive congratulations to all who participated in it!

Some of the riders after arriving at the Atlantic