It’s probably a good thing that I couldn’t lay my hands on a Soma Pescadero back in 2020.
It was the beginning of the Plague Years, and bits of this, that, and the other — toilet paper, peace of mind, bicycle bits — were scarce as common sense.
Nevertheless, Adventure Cyclist had been in touch, wondering if I had any review possibilities in the pipeline, and the Pescadero leapt instantly to mind.
The Soma Fabrications website was pitching this old-school steel scoot as an alternative for “all-road” cyclists who wanted a classic looker suited to large rubber and long rides, but without the subtle insults to form and function posed by disc brakes. This put the Pescadero smack dab in the middle of my antiquated wheelhouse.
I was already a happy Soma customer, with two Saga touring bikes and one Double Cross cyclocross-slash-light tourer in the garage. And it seemed significant that Soma’s parent organization, the Merry Sales Co. of San Francisco, was born shortly after a previous calamity, the Great Earthquake of 1906.
In previous negotiations over review framesets, honcho Jim Porter and marketeer Stan Pun had always proved themselves reasonable, resourceful, and flexible — admirable qualities, suited to all situations, and never more so than when dealing with a small-batch, rim-braking, friction-shifting Luddite in search of the fixins for a bespoke bike in the middle of a pandemic.
So I fired off an email.
• • •
Longtime readers already know the background, so I’ll cut to the chase. There were no Pescaderos to be had, in any size. There was this plague going on, you see.
So Pun pitched me on another house-brand frameset, a New Albion Privateer, saying it resembled the Double Cross I already knew and loved, but with “a lower bottom-bracket height, longer chainstays, and heavier tubes.”
Steel? Check. Tange Infinity double-butted main triangle and other chromoly elsewhere. Rim brakes? Roger that. Your choice of cantilevers or V-brakes. Fat tires? Claro que si. Up to 700c x 41mm.
Say no more. I ordered one, reviewed it, and eventually bought it.
Had a Pescadero been available, I might not ever have become acquainted with the Privateer. Which would have been sad, because five years later it’s one of my favorite bikes, the one I tend to reach for first when it’s time to ride.
It was well suited to the Adventure Cyclist audience, too. Three sets of bottle bosses and a pump peg. Eyelets for racks and fenders front and rear. Versatile as a product manager in a pandemic. Ride it to work or the next town down the line.
And the Pescadero? Turns out it’s less about hauling a load, and more about hauling ass.
• • •
Last year I’d begun thinking about a new bike aimed at my friendly local group ride, something sporty for our senior-citizen shootouts. My old road-racing bike, a 20-pound titanium DBR Prevail TT from 1994, is fun but twitchy, with a really short wheelbase, really tall gearing, and a 25mm cap on tire size. A beautiful custom Nobilette from 2008 has a more geezer-friendly drivetrain and a less racy geometry, but can accommodate only a slightly fatter tire.
Thus I revisited the Pescadero, with its road-sport geometry — “between road-race and cyclocross bikes in handling responsiveness,” according to Soma — and its capacity for 38mm rubber, my favorite size. (My Steelman cyclocross bikes max out at 35mm.)
Lo and behold, this time it was in stock. The Soma people proposed a deal — some no-strings slack on the price for some straight-up thoughts on the frameset — and so here we are.
Now, I didn’t strive for the lightest possible build on either the Pescadero or the Privateer because I’m not a gram-counter. So my Pescadero weighs in at 24 pounds, 8 ounces, just 11 oh-zees lighter than the Privateer.
This is in part because the two share a number of component choices: 46/30T IRD Defiant cranks, IRD QB55 bottom bracket, and Shimano PD-A520 pedals; Shimano Deore rear derailleurs, S-Ride cassettes, and KMC chains; Selle Italia Flite saddles and Thomson Elite seat posts; Soma’s Hwy One handlebars and Crane stems; and 38mm Soma-label tires.
The biggest differences between the two are … not all that big. But noticeable.
The Pescadero ups the Privateer’s metallurgical ante with a lighter steel — heat-treated, double-butted Tange Prestige for the main triangle and Tange Infinity for the fork, as on my Double Cross. Its head tube is 15mm shorter than the Privateer’s, but the Crane stem/Hwy One cockpit still gives me a nice upright position and easy access to the drops without proclaiming me the King of Spacer Mountain.
The Privateer sets sail with a seven-speed cassette (11-34T) and Rivendell Silver friction bar-end shifters, while the Pescadero rolls with nine (11-32T) and Dia-Compe bar-cons, also friction.
Those two additional cogs (plus an Ultegra triple front derailleur, the only one I had on hand) add a small degree of difficulty to speedy shifting. But I’m rarely in a rush. That said, I may eventually give the Pescadero seven cogs (the biggest with two extra teefers) and a proper front derailleur, too.
Come stopping time, the Privateer uses Paul Components’ excellent MiniMoto V-brakes and Gran Compe levers, while the Pescadero sports the elegant and grippy Paul Comp’ Racer centerpulls and Shimano Tiagra levers that remind me favorably of the old Shimano 600s on my Double Cross.
I waffled, briefly, while deciding on the brakes. The Pescadero can use centerpulls like Paul’s or long-reach sidepulls, such as the considerably cheaper Tektro R559. But I already had a set of those on a Rivendell Sam Hillborne and wanted to see how the Paul’s centerpulls checked out. Duh. They’re awesome.
Full disclosure: I’m a big fan of Paul’s brakes. Five of my bikes are so equipped and I have a set of MiniMotos in a box awaiting their callup.
Both bikes are handsome, but the Pescadero definitely has the edge in the looks department. The Privateer is matte black with white panels, stylish yet understated. The Pescadero is officially a glossy “slate gray” with pistachio-green panels. But once I saw it in real life I heard Mickey O’Neill saying, “An’ she’s terrible partial to the periwinkle blue, boys.” It was the color he wanted for his ma’s caravan in the Guy Ritchie flick “Snatch.”
So if this bicycle ever gets a first name, it will be Mickey, and you’ll know it has nothing to do with that mouse.
But your ma’s caravan — trailer, in British lingo — it is not.
• • •
Oh, sure, the Pescadero can accept a rear rack and front mini-rack, or frame bags, seat bags, and handlebar packs. But its wheelbase and chainstays are shorter than those on a purpose-built touring bike — even shorter than the Privateer’s. So, while light rack and/or bikepacking loads are possible, a serious tourist would probably be advised to check out some other model.
Ditto a gravel rider. The Pescadero is a roadie, its tighter geometry intended to provide a snappy ride on the mean streets while fitting a tire plump enough to blunt the bumps.
And it delivers.
When I rise from the saddle on the steeps the Pescadero leaps forward like a salmon heading upstream to spawn. Diving at speed into corners that have the Privateer murmuring, “We can do this,” the Pescadero shouts, “Let’s do this!” Its trimmer figure — less fork rake, shorter chainstays, and lower weight — sure get the party started. I actually found myself getting a little aggro’ in sharp turns, which is not at all like me.
The compact Pescadero is sprightly on the flats and rollers, too, and probably would be even more so had I not gone slightly overboard on its wheels. Two Wheel Drive here in Albuquerque built them up with Alex Adventurer 2 rims, Shimano RS-400 hubs, Soma Shikoro tires, and Specialized AirLock inner tubes. With cassette and quick-release skewers we’re talking a total of 8 pounds, 12 ounces.
The Privateer’s wheels, an ancient set from Excel Sports in Boulder — Mavic Open Pro rims, Shimano 600 hubs, and Soma’s The Everwear tires with AirLock tubes — are 11 ounces lighter, which is not insignificant when we’re talking rotating weight.
I’ve thought idly about stealing those wheels for the Pescadero. After all, that’s how the Privateer got ’em; I robbed them from a Voodoo Wazoo.
Plus, if I liberated those wheels I could shave off a few more ounces by going with 33mm tires. The 38mm Soma Shikoros on the Pescadero run 430 grams; the 33mms on the Nobilette, 350g. So, by downsizing the rubber I’d save an additional 160g, or 5.6 oz. Call it a third of a pound. Frost that cake by going to sealant-free tubes, 213g vs. 128g. Another one-third el-bee. Hell, if I keep this up I can make the whole damn’ bike disappear! Sail along “by sheer force of personality,” like Oscar and his comrades in Robert A. Heinlein’s “Glory Road.”
Or not. As I noted earlier, I don’t really care about weight. Albuquerque’s roads are a seamed and scarred Frankenstein’s monstrosity, and I want a stout wheelset and plump, low-pressure tires with puncture-plugging inner tubes saving my booty from the beast. I run those 38s at no more than 50 psi rear and 45 front, which helps.
Anyway, I like those Excel Sports wheels right where they are. The New Albion Privateer is spot on as is. I may try a lighter wheelset on the Pescadero further on up the road, for the sake of velo-science. But right here, right now, I’m perfectly happy with my new favorite bike.
And that’s probably a good thing. The Plague of 2025 — which is most definitely manmade — is sickening the global supply chain with insane tariffs, shipping hassles, and a general skittishness throughout, from suppliers to wholesalers to retailers to “end users,” who are certainly getting used in their ends.
If I were in the market for a new bike and had a garage full of parts, plus $799.95 that wasn’t committed elsewhere, I’d buy me a Soma Pescadero, like, yesterday. If I didn’t already have one.
You should have one too.
• P.S.: Soma has launched its Memorial Day sale a week early — as in this weekend through Monday — and is offering to slash 20 percent off all regularly priced items. You’ll need the Secret Code: memorialday25. Merry Sales will be serving up the bargains, too, with 15 percent off. Git ’em while they’re hot!
Mad Blog Media 
I thought I saw centerpulls and wondered if they are better than the primitive ones I had on my first non-Sears bike, a Motobecane Mirage. Those brakes came with a little Virgin Mary pendant, because when you needed brakes, you had to pray really hard that they would stop you. Even when I replaced those crap steel rims on the Mirage with aluminum, which was pretty much right away.
Nice review. I miss you in the Adventure Cycling mag. Those road tests in Adventure seems to have gone slightly down the shitter.
Thanks, K. I haven’t seen the mag for a while now … I’m not up to speed on what’s going on at the Adventure Cycling Association, but Rumor Control had them going through a few changes a couple years back.
I really enjoyed the work while it lasted. I was so lucky as a freelancer. One job led to another, and another, and another. … Once I had VeloNews and Bicycle Retailer on the hook, I never really had to pitch like everybody else. It was like having two part-time jobs.
And then when the wheels started to come off there, Mike Deme chimed in from Adventure Cyclist and I was off and running again. Dog rest his soul.
O, yeah: the Paul’s centerpulls. Not your grandpappy’s centerpulls for sure. Rock solid like all their stuff. And they look good too.
Like Khal, this review took me back to the Adventure Cycling magazine days, and it was a nice trip. Well done indeed. Let’s not talk about those stone age brakes. You’ll just get my disc all wound up.
Paul Component does disc brakes too — flat mount and post mount. Jus’ sayin’. …
Those are very high quality, like all Paul components I have seen. I don’t understand why they went with the single piston design. In my experience, the single piston design must flex the disc into a stationary pad. So, the stationary pad must be adjusted to almost touch the rotor to get good braking and modulation. When you throw a little dust or dirt into the mix, or the rotor gets hot and warps a little, they start to howl. And adjusting and replacing the pads is difficult. The two piston designs, like the TRP Spyre, eliminates these problems. You adjust for pad wear with a barrel adjuster that moves both pads at the same time. The dual piston design gives you the advantages of a cable actuated disc brake with almost the power of a hydraulic actuated disc brakes.
Oh boy, there he goes again with the TRP lecture. Christ on a bike, give it a rest, heh.
I just got my renewal request from Adventure, and have to think hard about whether to bother. Main thing I liked was the magazine and it’s now down to quarterly. At one point I read that AC was going to make the print copy cost something above basic membership, IIRC. And all the old guard left or were pushed.
Those ancient centerpull brakes on the Mirage, Weinmanns, I think, were very spongy. The original rims were steel. In the rain you had to drag your feet on the road to slow down. Between the multiple cables and the thin metal, just too much stuff flexing rather than clamping down.
It’s a drag that they went and hid all the online bits behind a paywall — including all those reviews I wrote over a 10-year period.
Happily, I’d already downloaded the reviews about the bikes I wound up buying. But all the other ones are lost in time, like tears in rain.
Great review! The flatish arms of the Paul’s harken back to Mafac. I still get nightmares about trying to get Mafac centerpull brakes to stop howling. There were a lot of tricks and one of them might work for a bit and then…. the beast returned just as loud as ever. When I got my Bottechia it came with Universal Mod 61 centerpull brakes and I was devastated fearing the worst. I was expecting Campy side pulls to go with the rest of the Record grippo. Lo and behold! They were quiet and were not spongy as Khal noted the Weenermans and Dia Comps were.
Anyone remember “safety levers”? Yeah….more nightmares.
POG it’s interesting that you too have forsaken the skinny, fragile tires we used in pursuit of riding 1/10th mph faster and at the risk of wiping out at the first hint of sand or gravel. The stance of the Pesky reminds me of a Fuji America I put a lot of touring miles on back when. Although it was their idea of a touring bike, it was a bit too sporty and of course weak in the braze on department…as in none. But a good partner for century rides without camp gear.
The Merry Boyz and Girlz are the best. Were quick to give me some help on the mixte POB MADE me buy. (that’s how I explained it when the frame arrived). They and Rivendell are the last great vestiges of info for practical steel bikes/build outs. Maybe a few LBS’s here and there with some gray haired wrenchers chained to the Park stands.
Thanks, Uppercase Herb. Ah, the Mafac days. I’ve mentioned before that IRD does a canti’ reminiscent of the Mafacs, called the “Cafam.” I have a set on the Double Cross.
Never rocked the original Mafacs, but I did have Weinmanns on a Pinarello cyclocross bike, which I think I scored from Veltec when Friend of the Blog Tim Campen was there waaaaay Back in the Day®.
“Safety levers?” Had ’em on my first Schwinn Varsity. All the braking power of a light headwind.
And yeah, I lost interest in those skinny tires pretty much as soon as it became possible to go a little fatter. The DBR has 26mm now, which is really pushing it. And the Nobilette has 33mm; might could get 35mm in there, depending upon the tire’s profile. And the numbers only go up from there: 35mm, 36mm, 38mm, 42mm, 50mm, etc.
The Double Cross has 42mm Soma Cazaderos, 30/35 psi. I was riding that one today, jumping off the pavement and onto singletrack as the spirit moved.
I hear some of the pros are rocking 28mm these days. Why not? Spend that much time on the bike, you might as well be as comfortable as possible.
I don’t know. Just something….fishy….about a Pescadero, eh?
Safety levers. Herb, don’t remind me of those fiendish instruments of Lucifer.
I was newly on my first “ten speed”, that beautiful, silver Motobecane Mirage, when a guy in a Volkswagen pulled across my line and I had my hands on the tops and instinctively reached for the “safety levers”. Not having any leverage on the bars to do an instant turn, or enough braking to make a difference, I went over the hood of the car and handed on my head. Woke up a while later, but that killed the rest of 1979 for me. Ever since then, the idea of “safety levers” is my idea of someone saying “Niagara Falls”.
Soma’s Stan Pun told me that the bike is named for the NoCal town and the nearby beach area. Alto Velo puts on a race in the area and does training rides there too.
Sez Stan: “The Pigeon Point lighthouse is a stop for a lot of cyclists coming down Hwy 1. Chill and low-key area.”
Pescadero translates as fish monger or fish seller. Hence my tease.
Yeah, I got it. My Spanish ain’t that weak, being a longtime colonizer of Aztlan and all. One absorbs a word or two here and there.
I took five years of Spanish in junior high and high school. Served me well on our honeymoon in Italy in 1992, where my fractured Spanish was good enough for the Italians to comprehend. Nowadays, I’m lucky if I can remember “¿Dónde está el cuarto de baño?”
I got some Spanish in school too, but I think the Spanglish I learned from the Martinezes in college is the dialect that’s stayed with me.
Shortly after I moved to Española, I was in line at the Safeway behind a pleasant-looking vieja, who glanced at me and nodded, and I made the mistake of deploying some of my half-assed Spanish on her. She must’ve thought, “¡O, este gabacho peludo habla Español!” Because she let fly with a torrent of Northern New Mexican that hit me like a flash flood in an arroyo.
I never tried that shit again. Felt like Herbie Goldfarb landing in Milagro.
I should really try to take some classes from a native speaker. Stretch that shrinking brain of mine a bit.
Boy, they were terrific!
And finding the bathroom IS of upmost importance old bean. That and finding the on switch on the coffee maker in low light conditions. Hell, outside of full sun at high noon everything is low light conditions now. Not being able to read half the printed directions on things these days, I thought I was going blind until I asked my teenage granddaughter to read some print on a cleaning product. She ended up with the magnifying glass too! How are we supposed to know not to drink the stuff?
I practice for the Apocalypse by doing everything in the dark when I first struggle out of bed. Hit the head, put on some clothes, grab the iPhone and Watch, and like that there.
Don’t get me started on fine print. I need an electron microscope to read anything smaller than 12-point Helvetica.
Upper class, I mean case, Herb, it’s time for another listen to Mr. Harrel.
POB….I do know why I came into this room. To find something. But damn…I forgot what it is …but I DO know the why I came in here. Great song.
Sheeeyit. I forget where the room is. …
Howdy Patrick, it’s been a long while since I’ve visited – been avoiding the intertubes as much as one can – glad to see you’re still at it.
I’ve always loved the Soma offerings – ride a Double Cross myself – and the Pescadero is a nice tug to those that may feel like Rivendell is the only game in town for rim brakes and friction shifters – although I gotta say that those Riv lug details are hard to beat.
But still, if rotors and clickers aren’t your thing, seems like you’ve got some good folks up in the Bay Area to serve up some old school.