Back to Chesapeake

Today we headed back to Chesapeake. If it were not for our travel buddies, and wanting time with them, we'd be moving on because we've had our fill of the area already. After spending the winter in Florida, it is very hard for us to sit "still" and not be moving. It's well worth it to have family time with people we enjoy so much though.



We had a nice, short drive over to the park. We ended up in the same section that we were in last time, in fact our old spot was still open. I'm sure this will not be the case soon because this park is very busy in the summer. They have upgraded many of the sites in this section to 50 amps with makes it very nice when we want to run both air conditioners inside.

We're hoping the weather holds out for us and it nice here. A few days of rain has me feeling quite grumpy so I need some sun at this point.





Living the life in dreary Virginia.

Phend-Fisher Family Reunion Ledger (1917-1918-1919)

There were no records kept of the reunions held in the years of 1917 & 1918.



The 10th annual reunion of the Phend-Fisher families was held on Sept 28, 1919 at the home of Christ. Phend at Nappanee. The morning was spent in a social way and, at noon a basket dinner was served after which a short business meeting was held and the following officers elected for the ensuing year.

Jacob Phend. Pres.
Fred Ernest. Sec.
Christ Phend. Tres.

It was decided by vote that the 11th annual reunion be held at the home of Harry Phend at Milford Ind. on the last Saturday of Sept. 1920

The meeting was then adjourned and an enjoyable time was reported by all.
Fred Ernest, Sec.

The Bicycle, and on Building (and Protecting) Your World

For myself and a number of my acquaintances, the desire to get a bicycle corresponded with experiencing what I can only describe as an early midlife crisis. Early, because it hit us some time in our late 20s. And crisis, because it was marked by a devastating discrepancy between what we were achieving in our lives at the time (impressive things, by society's standards) and the absolute lack of personal fulfilment derived from those achievements. Somehow, we were living in a way that did not make us happy, spending money on things we did not enjoy, and advancing along career paths we no longer believed in - yet saw no way of escaping after having dedicated huge portions of our no-longer-that-young lives to the education that led to those careers.



How does the bicycle tie into this?... I cannot yet verbalise it as eloquently as I would like, but I know for certain that it does. Maybe disentangling myself from one aspect of societal expectations and life's inertia made me realise that it was generally possible. Prior to getting a bicycle, I had made some radical changes in my life, and have continued to make others since. Those changes have made me considerably worse off financially, but the quality of my life improved. And most importantly, I feel that I have re-claimed my intellect and creativity, which I now understand was necessary for my sense of personal integrity.



When I ride a bicycle, I experience a heightened awareness of the extent to which we are the architects of our own worlds. Things don't just happen to us, as we like to think when feeling helpless about our situations. Whether we realise it or not, we orchestrate our daily experiences through a complex web of choices and decisions we make - which includes the choice to be passive and let our circumstances, or other people around us, shape our world for us. To live the life we want to live, we must actively build and protect it - not violently or smugly, but committedly and persistently, even if others don't understand us or criticise our choices. For me, this is an important parallel between cycling and life in general.

The Closest Thing to a Valentine

In all of the photo albums and family papers of my grandmother's, I haven't come across any valentines or love letters written by or to anyone. None. Zilch. Nada. And I don't have any personal valentines (that I'd care to share). So with my birthday being just 3 days after Valentines Day, I thought these cards might be good substitutes for inclusion in the 20th edition of Smile For The Camera. My niece Carrie made them a “few” years ago (when she was 9 or 10 years old). The images were previously published here on kinexxions in July ...

Herding Water?

Tuffee is so determained to 'herd' something she trys to 'herd' the water coming out of the water hose.

Clipless Pedals on a Fixed Gear

For the final phase of my transition to clipless pedals, I've now installed them on my fixed gear roadbike. I knew that clipless would be trickier on fixed gear than on a freewheel bike, since you have to clip in and out while continuing to turn the pedals.I expected to have two specific problems: getting my left foot clipped in once I got going (I start with the right), and unclipping. For obvious reasons, the latter one worried me especially: What if I could not unclipwith the pedals revolving constantly?




Now that I've done it, my impressions of the whole process are different from what I'd imagined. Clipping in my left foot is not as tricky as I thought. Yes, the pedal keeps going. But at least I no longer have to fish aroundfor a strapwith my toe as it rotates. Instead I just hang on and keep pressing into it even if the cleat doesn't engage right away; eventually it does. And clipping out is fine. Some cyclists say that they can only unclip when the pedal is in a specific position, but I guess I have been spared that problem. Sure, some positions are more awkward than others, but I can still unclip from them.




So that's the good news. The bad news, is that starting is surprisingly challenging. I guess I didn't think this part through very well ahead of time. On a freewheel bike I clip in my starting foot on the downstroke, then pull the pedal up to start. Within a fairly short amount of time, this process has already become automated. Of course on a fixed gear you can't pull the pedal up without lifting the rear wheel, which I've never managed to learn how to do. So when I try to start I nearly topple over, because I automatically try to pull up on the pedal and all this does is jerk the bike violently. It's kind of funny that I do this every time, even though I knowthat you can't pull up on the pedal in fixed gear. Habits form quickly!




Anyhow. So I am not quite there yet with clipless in fixed gear, but I am enjoying the challenge. I either need tolearn how to quickly lift the rear wheel while pulling up on the pedal, or reprogram my brain to clip in my starting foot on the upstroke, the way I used to do with Power Grips. Suggestions from fixed gear cyclists most welcome. Is there a way to make this easier on myself?

Creatures Great and Small

You may be somewhat tired of seeing pictures of Buffalo and Prairie Dogs but I find them to be rather fascinating creatures. Photos taken on September 9th and 10th.





A herd of domesticated bison.



This one was getting a little too close for comfort, with only a few strands of barbed wire between it and me! Like cows, they are curious creatures and this one simply wanted to figure out just what I was.





The eye of a buffalo. Their hair looks stiff and wiry but it isn't. Not that I reached in to pet them or anything silly like that – the Wind Cave National Park in South Dakota had a buffalo skin on display that you could touch. It was very soft.





A nearby Prairie Dog Town offered a fine photographic opportunity. He's sounding the alarm to warn others of my presence. Even with the long zoom of the camera, I couldn't get really close. This and the other images below are cropped quite a bit.





I had never seen a prairie dog do this before and almost missed the shot! A nearby sign had a similar image and it said that “Once danger has passed, the prairie dog emits the 'wee-oo' call to notify other members of the colony that everything is okay”. I'm not convinced that is what it was doing as I didn't see very many that were out of their burrows.





Lunchtime!

Things Change and Stay the Same

image from the tentacles of the magnificent octopus

With upon us, I would like to wish everyone a happy, healthy, safe, exciting and all around fulfilling New Year, full of cycling and all the other things you enjoy.

I've been trying to think of "resolutions" for next year pertaining to this blog, and in the process I am realising that I don't have any. This may not sound very exciting, but more than anything I would like for things to remain as they are: to ride bikes, learn more about bicycle design, overthink everything as usual, make mistakes in the process, and write about it all without getting overly self-conscious about how silly I might sound. This year I was upset and surprised when two of my favourite bicycle blogs were discontinued. But I also understand why it happened, and I can easily see how the same could happen here. For that reason I feel that it is especially important to keep things low key and not overextend myself. This is something I will try to bear in mind throughout .

Other than this, I am quite happy to keep it open-ended. I have been cycling for transportation more or less daily since the start of this blog, and over time I've become increasingly interested in roadcycling. Within these two realms there are so many possibilities for exploration, that I feel as if I've barely scratched the surface. My interest in bicycle design continues, and it's been fascinating to learn about materials and methods of construction other than the lugged steel I love. There's just... so much to it all! As new people get swept up into this obsession every day, there are also those who've been at it for decades - no less enthusiastic now than they were in the beginning. I hope that will be me in future.

I've had some requests for a New Year's cocktail like last year, and so I offer you the following:

The Slideways:. real pomegranate juice. dry champagne or white sparkling wine. gin (of course). small lime. sprig of mint. ice

In a cocktail shaker, combine ice, 1 shot of pomegranate juice, 1 shot of gin, 2 shots of champagne, and a generous squeeze of lime. Keep a tall champagne glass in the freezer to give it that frosted look. Strap the cocktail shaker to a rear rack of a fixed gear bicycle, then pedal forward and backward, rapidly changing direction. Unstrap the shaker. Remove champagne glass from freezer and pour in the contents immediately. Garnish with mint. Recline on your bicycle, side-saddle, while drinking and listening to this. Repeat as necessary.

A hat tip to Andy Arthur for his adorable illustration of my clumsy bike handling skills, and my sincere thanks to everyone I've crossed paths with via this blog in - be it virtually or in person. A Happy New Year to all!

Cumberland Island :: The Beach

The trail meanders through the dunes, alternating between a sandy path and boardwalk. A small forest of scrubby trees and brush seems to create a barrier for the shifting sands of the dunes inhibiting their movement and helping to prevent them from encroaching further inland.

The tide was out so there was a large expanse of beach showing. The group of people off to the south was the first and last group I saw walking along the seashore that day. The building in the distance on the right side of the photo is a pulp mill on neighboring Amelia Island. It is the only “blemish” on an otherwise beautiful and distant horizon.

I had been walking along the hard-packed beach for over an hour and in that time had seen only two other people. Now, I was alone on the beach, listening to the surf moving in and out, watching the clouds go by, and being amused by the Sandpipers that scurried to and fro around the edge of the surf, occasionally stopping to grab a little something to eat.

There was hardly any wind and the sun came out for a short time then disappeared behind a thick layer of clouds. The warmth from the brief appearance of the sun was quite welcome though it was comfortable otherwise, especially with the four layers of clothing I wore. Not too cold, if you kept moving.

I noticed a portion of a large tree lying along the outer edge of the beach, near the dunes, and went to investigate. I don't know if the tree had drifted in from the ocean or what but all of the bark had been removed and only stumps remained where branches had been. Conveniently, one end made a very nice seat with two of the stumps creating a nice backrest. It was early afternoon so I sat down to eat my lunch.

Every so often the sun would pop out for a few minutes, brightening the day. To the north patches of blue sky occasionally appeared through the clouds.

But to the south there was a thick layer of clouds, which would eventually block out the sun for the remainder of the day, but not before providing a wonderful palette of blues and grays, along with some marvelous reflections.

The clouds reflected in the thin layer of water coating the sand appears to be steam rising from the surface, giving the beach that “other world” look.

A delicate white feather provides contrast against the gray, wet sand. Shells and other debris left by nature also “littered” the beach. I saw no man-made trash on the Island, so people seem to be heeding the call to “take nothing but pictures and leave nothing but footprints.”

To be continued . . .

Rio Rancho

Of Sand, Wood and Crossing State Lines: The Quest for a Curvy Fork

Because I like to keep things simple, the bicycle I am making is of course a low trail design. And low trail means a fork with a lot of rake. A very curvy fork, in other words. Not only did I want it to be curvy, but I wanted it to be that special kind of French-curvy where instead of a gradual "banana" bend, there is a dramatic flick toward the tips of the blades (like so).






When you buy supplies for making a fork, what you get is two straight blades that are (hopefully) a bit longer than you need them to be, and a crown which those blades plug into. It is then up to you to rake the blades. The style of bend I wanted requires using blades that are designed to withstand such dramatic manipulation. I went with the Kaisei Toei blades, which were already familiar from other projects I've been involved in.






To get the fork blades bent as desired, we needed a special setup that was not locally available. So we payed a visit to Cirlce A Cycles in Providence RI, about 30 miles from Mike Flanigan's shop. They have a fork bender that was made specifically for the French-style bend and could produce the 73mm of rake I wanted. The furry receptionist granted us permission to use it.






Since 73mm is a pretty dramatic amount of rake, Chris Bull suggested filling the fork blades with sand before bending. This would reduce the possibility of damage during the process.






The blades were taped at both ends to contain the sand.






The fork bending press consists of a wooden block curved according to the French bend design (they have several of these presses, used for different styles of bends). There is a notch along the curve where the fork blade sits, held in place by a vise.






A giant lever is then pushed up, forcing the blade to adhere to the curvature of the wooden block.






The further up you push, the more dramatic the bend.






At first we did not have an idea of exactly when to stop, so Chris eyeballed it and stopped when he thought the rake was around 50mm. Confirming that this was correct and that the bend was forming properly, he then continued the process until we finally had the 73mm rake we wanted.






This is the dropout placement mockup. To determine the rake correctly, you need to know how and where the blade will be connected to the dropout.






One thing that can go wrong during this process, is that the steel can get distorted. When this happens, you can see and feel a rippling on the inside of the bend. Thankfully this did not happen.






For the second blade we now knew exactly when to stop and had a marker in place. I did part of this bend myself and it was pretty cool to feel the blade give under the force of the lever. It is interesting that Circle A's setup makes you push the lever up rather than pull it down; I have never operated this kind of press before.






Thanks to Circle A, I now have two symmetrical, beautifully raked fork blades that are waiting to become a fork. All I have to do is braze it.

Floods and Flowers

A ride that starts with mild rain, luring me out, ambushes with a downpour. I am too far out now to turn back. Might as well keep going.



This is all right. My tires slice through puddles.



Rain, rain, pouring rain. Drumming against my helmet. Dripping from my visor. This is okay. This is rather peaceful. The roads are all mine.



Meadow, meadow, forest, farm. Farm, farm, forest.



But darn, what's this. Country road, traffic backed up around the bend. I pedal carefully along the shoulder.



Endless line of cars, deep puddles, feet clipped in, water pouring down my face off the soggy visor,thinking "This is crazy," feeling calm, humming to myself.



A woman driver in a pickup rolls down her window. She points to my bike, then points to the back of her truck. I half-raise my hand in a half-wave like "I'm good, thanks." She shakes her head and smiles. I pass her in traffic.



Pedal, pedal, pedal. Rain, rain, rain. Cars, cars. Honking. Brake lights.



Two teenage boys in a Jeep roll down their window and lean over. "Cool bike! Cool braids!" Thumbs up to me from the teenage boys.



There is a soggy book on the grassy side of the road. Tossed by a kid out of a car window? Kittens on the cover. Bloated, wet kittens.



Let's see, what is going on at the front of all this backed up traffic...



A broken light. A ditch at the intersection filled with deep water. The bigger cars rolling though it slowly. The smaller cars frantically flashing their signals, making U-turns.



I pass them all and turn right. No one else wants to go there. What's wrong with right?



No matter. An end to the chaos. A silent empty road. Trees, trees. Darkness at noon. Streams of water across the pavement. Rain.



This is okay. This is all right. This is rather peaceful. The road is all mine. My shoe touches water on the downstroke.



And then I smell the flowers. A deep, heavy scent, almost an odor. The raindrops carry it, like perfume oil. A low-hanging branch of blossoms. I grab it and pedal home.



My bike is upside down in the kitchen. My flower, my prize is on the table. The rain has stopped, like none of it had ever happened. But water droplets glisten on the petals. And on the pedals.

Usnea strigosa

We see this lichen here all the time, only usually without quite so many things on it. The technical name for the things is apothecia. If that's exciting to you, you may want to look here for related technical terms. I spent way too much time there, following links and trying to figure out what was meant when they said something was shaped like a skittle. The candy or a British bowling pin?

Anyway, I finally identified the lichen: Bushy beard lichen; Old man’s beard; Usnea strigosa.

I haven't found a good southern or eastern North American lichen identification site. I was lucky and happened on a page that told me that this "is the only Southern Usnea with large, pale, terminal apothecia."¹

The Ohio Moss and Lichen Association has some good photos, including this one that shows what Usnea strigosa more commonly looks like. But there's no key. Let me know if you find a good lichen site.

-----

¹If you could actually get the pdf file to come up, it might be useful. I had to make do with the hodge-podge cached html version.

So Long Old Friend by Chip Py

I bought this TV in 1986 at the Peoples Drug Store on Old Georgetown Road for $129.00. It was a wedding gift to my sister. For the last ten years, it has been my basement TV. Something to turn on while I painted furniture, strung up my fishin' poles or any other basement project. It has no remote, the channels are changed with a knob, and it gets UHF! (that round thing on top is a UHF Antennae) I have chosen not to buy it a conversion box because it just doesn't seem right.

I will miss my basement TV. It will probably sit in my basement for a few more years until I take it to the dump. Or perhaps, like LPs, I could wait for the analog TV comeback! That High Def is probably just a fad. One day my TV will be retro cool, and I'll be cutting edge!!

Happy Hour

One of the things we looked for when picking out our annual site was a spot that would be able to host get togethers. With our Happy Hour queen, Diane, out west this winter, we figured the rest of us would have to pick up the slack and we wanted to do our part. I'm glad we did because last night we started out this season with our first Happy Hour.





Happy Hours are a time for the pickleball players to hang out off the court and participate in the three "F's": Food, Fun and Friends. We even got Stan and Sally here, even though they are now at Torrey Oaks. Actually we got them to come twice because we moved the date and they didn't get the notice and showed up with jalepeno poppers which we helped them to devour. They were so gracious about the mix-up and came back for the second time when everyone else was here too. (Can somebody teach my husband to zoom out when taking pictures of me! Thank you!)






We had a nice turnout for this time of the year! From top to bottom: Stan and Sally, me and Ava, Austin Lee and Aric, Donna and Rich, Diane and Buddy, Patty and Woody, Carla and Marie, and Keith and John.



It was nice to have time to sit and chat with all that came and the food was wonderful! Hopefully we have many more this season!



Living the life in Florida!

High Water at High Falls

High Falls at Grand Portage State Park on May 25, - The Pigeon River has risen 5 FEET in the last 24 hours from yesterday's heavy rainfall!

Have a plant problem?

One of the services Scout Horticultural Consulting provides is the diagnosis of individual plant problems. Plants (or the affected parts of a plant) can be sent to our lab for a microscopic diagnosis, treatment recommendations and cultural information.

Diseases and insects move quickly through a greenhouse, nursery or landscape. Plants are examined when they immediately arrive to begin the diagnostic process. I make it a priority to contact you with either a diagnosis or preliminary assessment within 48 hours.

Complete this form to send a sample to Scout Horticultural Consulting:Once the SHC website is completed, this form will be available there as a pdf.
-Kari

Spectator Sport

"So I hear you are into cyclocross," said Martina from Clever Cycles as we chatted on the second day of Interbike. I responded with genuine amazement. "Me, into cyclocross? What makes you say that?" And then I remembered that I'd spent the previous evening live-posting a continuous stream of blurry snapshots from Cross Vegas - "the biggest cyclocross race in America." I gave up two other industry events to attend this thing. I guess it did seem like I was pretty into it! But as I was quick to explain, I am only interested in watching, not racing. In fact, of all the forms of cycling out there, cyclocross is the one I am least likely to actually take part in (it combines every aspect of cycling I am terrible at!). Moreover, I had never before been able to tolerate - let alone enjoy - watching sports of any kind. So what makes cyclocross so appealing?






As it happens, Molly Hurford has just written a book that seeks to answer that very question. It's called Mud, Snow, and Cyclocross: How Cross Took Over US Cycling. Having borrowed a copy from the Ride Studio Cafe library, I finished it just days before Interbike. Aside from providing historical context, Hurford's book helped me make sense of my own feelings toward this bizarre sport. As race promoters all over the country have discovered, cyclocross is in many ways the perfect spectator event. And so I thought it might be interesting to describe it from the point of view of someone who is purely a spectator - and a fairly clueless one at that.






To do this, I will backtrack to last year's Interbike, where it all started. I had zero interest in attending Cross Vegas, but tagged along with Chris Kostman, who insisted I should at least stop by ("Come on, you can't go to Interbike and not see this!"). We drove to a giant field on the outskirts of town filled with tipsy people and flooded with electric light. In the distance I could see a colourful blur of bicyclists making their way through an elaborate obstacle course. As the sounds of cowbells and screams filled my ears, I remember wondering: "What am I doing here?" Five minutes later I was leaning over a barrier, ringing a cowbell and having a shockingly great time. And that's pretty much your typical "my first time watching 'cross" story. No one intends to like it, but inevitably they do.






This year we arrived to the spectacle of Elvis performing on stage before the start of the elite races.






Visitors wandered around purchasing water, beer and cowbells.






Cyclists rode around the grass warming up. Bicycles were being adjusted.






Before the crowds became too dense, I got the chance to survey the empty course. Winding around the grassy field, it did not look too technical, though there were lots of tight turns and a couple of short steep hills.





And, of course, these. I still remember how stunned I was when I first saw the riders hop right over them without breaking stride. How is this possible?







And then the race began. First the women's elite race; the mens would be next. Watching the hoard of riders charge cross the start line, the excitement of it all came back to me. I got goosebumps.





The thing is that at a cyclocross race, you can stand so close that you feel the energy of the riders wash over you like a wave.





And this wave is not some abstract poetic concept. It is very real, visceral. Even if you know nothing about race tactics and don't follow the background stories of any of the riders - just standing there and feeling so much human power and speed happening inches from your own body is a physical rush.





Watching track racing is more abstract in comparison, because the riders are further away. And with road racing you can only witness a small portion of the course at a time. But with cyclocross, all is laid out right in front of you in close proximity. The course winds around the spectators; it intertwines with them. There is a feeling that everything is happening everywhere, all at once.





Pressed against the barrier, I can see the riders' flushed faces, gritted teeth, twitching fingers, razor-burned legs. The physicality and rawness of it are overwhelming.





And then there are the technical parts that differentiate cyclocross from other forms of cycling. The obstacles, the vertical uphills, the dismounts and remounts, the bouts of running with the bike. No matter how graceful the rider, there is an intimate awkwardness to these struggles that makes us feel as if we are witnessing something private that perhaps we are not supposed to be witnessing.






Equally intriguing, is when a group of riders is so synchronised in their movements, that the dismounts and remounts appear to be done in choreographed unison - like a staged ballet.





And of course there are things like this - at which point it is the crowd's chorus of gasps that seems choreographed.






Watching first the women's, then the men's race, I noticed differences. The men stuck in larger, tighter clusters while the women were more strung out after the first lap. There were also difference in demeanor and body language - too subtle to describe, but nonetheless there. Watching the two races were separate experiences.






As the lead group of riders made its way through the course, spectators would rush to position themselves in different spots. This too was interesting to watch.






Through the elbows of others, I could see the anticipatory face of each rider as they crossed the finish line.






What struck me was how much they seemed to be savouring the moment, rather than rushing through it. There was a performative, theatrical element to it.






Photographers were everywhere, capturing the action with impressive lenses and flash units. John Watson's Cross Vegas photos on Prolly is Not Probably are especially worth a look.






While my low-light snapshots are far from professional quality, they do reflect my experience of the event as a spectator: dark and chaotic, punctuated with bursts of light and blurs of colour.






I am not sure whether any of this really explains what makes watching cyclocross fun. It is an evasive quality, but ultimately it is about entertainment - genuine entertainment. You don't even have to like sports or racing to enjoy it - though you might surprise yourself by developing a taste for beer and cowbells.






Accessible and awe-inspiring in equal measure, cyclocross strikes the perfect balance between a country fair, a bicycle race, and an alcohol-fueled block party. While the circus of Cross Vegas examplifies this more than typical races, it truly is the ultimate spectator sport.