The Wrong Bike for the Right Trip

The Wrong Bike for the Right Trip

Quccimelo is fast, tight, and planted through winding corners. The more I ride it, the more I realize that Quccimelo is more of a road bike that happens to fit a big tire. I've never considered myself a roadie, but this bike is fun. I'm also not entirely sure what 10-hour loaded days for months on end are going to feel like on it.

How This Started

I met Zaki years ago in San Francisco. I don't even remember how or where, but we quickly landed on the topic of bikes. He's a designer by trade, and we geeked out over geometry, components, and the kinds of nerdy details that Sana makes fun of me for. We went on a few rides together, including a memorable suffer-fest up Tunitas Creek, and we've kept in touch pretty well over the years.

One day I saw him on a titanium bike I couldn't recognize. It turned out to be an early Qunafa prototype – his own design, years in the making.

Zaki was in town recently and we caught up on a ride. I told him about the South America trip; he suggested I do it on a Qunafa. My first instinct was to say no. I already had a Surly that had served me well on tours, and I wasn't sure I wanted to change horses for something this big. But he made his case. We went back and forth over coffee, then deeper into geometry and material choices. Eventually, I came around.

The Geometry Rabbit Hole

Once I committed, the calls got serious. Zaki sent me the full manufacturing spec. We obsessed over every measurement.

Quccimelo has a 73.5° head tube angle and a wheelbase shorter than any of my other bikes. For a roadie, that's a feature. For me, coming from more relaxed offroad geometry, it took adjustment. The bike is snappy and transfers everything from the road directly to my hands and brain. On technical dirt it's surprisingly quick — the responsiveness that comes from steeper angles actually helps me pick lines quickly. I routinely hit PRs on my usual routes.

What it is not, officially, is a touring frame. Loaded handling will be different than what I'm used to. There's a little toe overlap where my toe clips the front tire at low speeds. No eyelets or mounts for racks or bags.

I was honest with Zaki about all of this, and he was honest back. That's what made those calls worth having. And by the end, a lot of that feedback made it into Shahrazad — his latest edition — including a slacker head tube angle. I like knowing I left fingerprints on the thing.

What It Feels Like

Fast. That's the first thing. Even loaded, this bike doesn't feel sluggish. It wants to move.

On rough stuff it's more capable than the numbers suggest. The responsiveness helps me react quickly, pick lines, stay loose. It rewards being an active rider: I work with it, and it responds.

I did a shakeout ride last weekend where I climbed Hawk Hill (road), Old Railroad Grade (dirt), and Bolinas Ridge (dirt.) We spent the night at Taylor State Park and logged back-to-back long days. Overall, the bike exceeded my expectations, but I’m battling some neck stiffness that I still need to work out. I’ve scheduled another appointment with Allen, my fitter, and will closely monitor how I’m feeling as I continue with shakeout rides.

What I genuinely don't know yet is how I'll feel about all of that in month four of a long trip. It’s hard to picture myself somewhere on the Bolivian altiplano with a 50 pound rig, tired legs, and still dealing with this neck stiffness.

Full Circle

Qunafa's Shahrazad launched last weekend. Zaki has been at this for years – designing in San Francisco, testing in Sicily, building in Asia, launching in LA. Watching that build has been its own kind of inspiration.

My doubts about this bike are baked into what comes next. The calls we had, the back and forth, the honest conversations about what wasn't working — that's all in the Shahrazad now. A slacker angle, less tire clearance: a frame that's more explicit about its intentions. My uncertainty made a better bike. I like that. It makes the imperfect choice feel less like a compromise and more like a collaboration.

My bike is built. My bags are almost packed. Colombia is two months away.

Of course I have doubts about the frame, about my legs, about all the things I can't plan for. Zaki has doubts too, I'm sure, every time someone rides one of his bikes into the unknown. That's the deal you make when you build something for someone, or when someone builds something for you. You send it out into the world and you trust the work.

So: wrong bike, maybe. Right trip, definitely.