More Nisqually Icecliff

Here is another image of the upper Nisqually Glacier, with the route lines drawn. The BLUE represents the line Hannah climbed on the Nisqually Icecliff. The PURPLE is a variation on the Nisqually Cleaver, and the GREEN is the standard Nisqually Cleaver Route.

Photo by Gauthier, Feb 12th, 2006.

Local Give-Away: Basil Tour Panniers

I've received an extra set of sample panniers from the Dutch bicycle accessory manufacturer Basil, to give away locally as I see fit. Can't decide who to give them to, so will use the blog and pick randomly. Local readers, this one's for you:






Basil Tour Panniers

silver and black

32cm x 12cm x 32cm

26L capacity



Reinforced construction in durable water-repellent 600D polyester; zipper side pockets, double reflective stripes on all sides, bands for LED/ straps/ child's seat. The panniers are a unit, connecting over the top of a rear rack. Inner edges are tapered to prevent heel strike on bikes with shorter chainstays. Good for commuting or touring.




Give-away terms:




1. You must be reasonably local, as defined by coming to claim the panniers in person from Broadway Bicycle in Cambridge MA.




2. You must have ridden your bike at least once since February 8th, of which you must supply photographic or verbally descriptive evidence in the comments here.




Otherwise, that's it. Hopefully, this will be a little pick me up for someone braving the snowy weather! If you'd like the panniers, leave a comment between now and 11:59pm tomorrow night (February 20th, ), and don't forget to include your email address. I will pick from eligible entries at random.




Basil is making an effort to streamline their North American distribution and we should be seeing more of their products in local bike shops soon. Many thanks to them for the sample panniers, and I hope the recipient enjoys them.

A Superior View

Well, the fall colors are taking their dear sweet time showing up this year. That doesn't mean, however, that you shouldn't get out and enjoy nature! There are still beautiful views to be enjoyed even without the colors of autumn. The view shown here is along the Middle Falls Trail in Grand Portage State Park. The trail crosses over a ridge and this is one of two magnificent views that are available from the top of the ridge. This view overlooks Lake Superior and the Susie Islands and is always beautiful no matter what time of year it is. Over the past year, CCM (Conservation Corps Minnesota) crews have been hard at work making improvements to the trail. Stairs have been constructed on the steepest portions of the trail and benches have been constructed in strategic locations where visitors can rest and appreciate the spectacular views of the Minnesota north woods. Although the fall colors are slow to appear this year, the leaves are changing and before long this view will be even more magnificent as the greens change to yellows and oranges!

Flambé

An almost essential part of making coq au vin is flambéing the chicken (or rooster). Here is my exciting attempt - and by exciting I mean flames that jump out of the pan about 2 feet. Anyone else have experience with flambéing?

Hog Heaven~Bike Week in Myrtle Beach

When Austin was about three years old, he was obsessed with Harley's. He could tell if there was a Harley around long before he could even see them. Meaning, he knew one by the sound alone. We'd be driving on the interstate and hear the roar of a bike coming up behind us and he'd shout out, That's a Harley! And he was always correct in his guess. I was, and still am, so impressed by that. The boy has good taste.



Imagine our surprise to land in Myrtle Beach and realize we coordinated our trip with Bike Week/Harley Davidson Bike Week. This has added such a fun dimension to our visit here. They are in the campground we are staying at. They are at the places we stop to visit. And they are on the road whenever we drive.




There is a Harley Davidson dealership right up the road, and each day we've passed by there are tons of bikes there to drool over.







We are in Hog Heaven! Can I show you my favorite?



I had no idea they made pink helmets. That is gonna be me someday, mark my words!



Living the life where we dream to be bikers in NC!

A Little Taste of Eldo

(Photo: a view of the 300-foot Bastille taken from the descent path down from the top of the Wind Tower. In the foreground the climbers are atop the first pitch of the Wind Ridge, a point from which we traversed off the Wind Tower early in the day.)
I recently fell in love with Eldorado Canyon. I barely got to experience it, but I loved it nonetheless.
I was in Colorado for a week in August with my wife and kids, and two other families. It was my first time in the state. We were vacationing in Summit County, at least an hour and a half from Denver, but I made my friend G promise that for at least one day we'd make it to one of the world-class climbing areas near Boulder. G introduced me to rock climbing in 2006, and for this I will be forever grateful, but climbing hasn't really been his thing lately. The lucky bastard moved to Denver in July, yet by the time of our visit in late August he had yet to set foot in Boulder Canyon, Eldorado Canyon, the Flatirons.... or any other Colorado climbing area. I saw it as my duty to drag him back from our vacation house to the suburbs of his new home city so we could both be introduced to the glories of at least one of the local climbing meccas.
Out of the wealth of Colorado choices I picked Eldorado Canyon because I wanted multipitch trad routes. A friend let me borrow his copy of the old Falcon guide written by Richard Rossiter, and I'm sure it would have served me well enough if I'd used it. But because I'm a sucker for guidebooks I went ahead and purchased Steve Levin's glossy new Eldo guide, and boy is it a beautiful book, an obvious labor of love filled with helpful, comprehensive information along with many entertaining historical pieces written by the great climbers of Eldo's past.
After poring over Levin's masterpiece, I had my heart set on doing either one of two classic moderates I felt I could lead comfortably: The Bastille Crack (5.7) or Rewritten (5.7, but via the 5.8 first pitch of The Great Zot). I was confident I'd be fine on either one of these routes. But as our Eldo day approached I started to feel I shouldn't push too hard to do them. I wanted G to enjoy the day, and I knew he wouldn't want to lead anything as hard as 5.7; he might not even be comfortable following climbs at that grade. I also worried that even if he was enthusiastic he'd struggle with the cruxes and we'd end up bailing. And let's face it, I had doubts about myself as well. A climber on The Bastille Crack had decked off the low crux the week before, falling from 20 feet up at the extremely polished step left to the namesake crack. His protective gear, in the flexy flake to the right, had popped right out. I didn't want that to be me. And as for Rewritten, while I wasn't worried about decking, I knew the approach would take a while, the route would be long, the crux difficult to bail from, the traverse nerve-wracking for G, and the descent complicated. Having never been in the canyon before, I didn't want to wind up in an epic.
So at some point before we actually drove over to the canyon, I decided to shelve these ambitions, and just do something easy. I proposed to G that we do The Wind Ridge, a three-pitch 5.6 that goes to the top of the Wind Tower, one of the smaller formations in the canyon.
But nature had other plans.
We arrived in good time. As we drove in I was immediately enthralled with the canyon. The rock was gorgeous. The possibilities seemed endless. It was a weekday and we were only the third car in the lot. I couldn't resist looking at The Bastille Crack-- it is just a few steps from the parking lot-- and I thought to myself that we might get on it later if things went really fast and well. Then I forced myself to walk away from it, cross the bridge, and head to the Wind Tower.
We found our route quickly, sorted the gear, and started up. I loved the texture of the rock. The sandstone was so easy to grip; chalk seemed totally superfluous. I had been worrying about how comfortable I'd feel climbing in Eldo, about whether I'd need to adjust to the rock or the ratings, but this first pitch put my mind at ease. The climbing felt just like a 5.6 in the Gunks, and just as fun. As I finished the first pitch, I thought things were going quite well.
Then G came up and spoiled my reverie by pointing out that it was about to rain. I hadn't even noticed. Suddenly it was cloudy in every direction. Then I felt the drops begin to fall, and I became infuriated. This wasn't supposed to happen. The forecast was for temperatures in the seventies with a zero percent chance of rain. ZERO. I looked around the canyon. Just over yonder a party had started up the Bastille Crack, but we could see they were now bailing. I looked to our left and could see what seemed like an easy traverse off the Wind Tower. This seemed like a better option than continuing upward into a storm. So, reluctantly, I agreed to abandon the climb.
Back on the ground we decided to sit a while and see how the weather developed. The storm, which had seemed to be beginning, never actually got started. After those first few drops it stopped again and never really got to actually raining. The rock was still dry and other parties were going at it, climbing all around. Still, the sky was completely overcast and it appeared it could pour at any moment. So after sitting for a bit I proposed that if we could find an easy climb that we could be certain would be uncomplicated to escape from at the end of the first few pitches, we should just start climbing again. I opened the guidebook to check and immediately found a route called The Bomb, which is only 5.4 but which Levin gives three stars. It appeared easy to rap off after pitches one and two. And it was the original route up the Wind Tower, going all the way to the top. I was sold and we climbed it.
The route turned out to be very good. I'd recommend it to anyone, but as Levin warns, you should be very careful of the rotten rock near the top of the Wind Tower. It is an unavoidable band of rock, really more of a pile of sandstone shingles, that is quite easy to climb but 100% loose. There is no acceptable pro through this section, and every piece of rock that you grab could be easily pulled out.
And while the rock was totally solid lower down the tower, I did begin to have some doubts about Steve Levin's guidebook and his notion of a "PG" protection rating. One pitch ascended a trench-like feature up the wall for 90 feet. I kept searching and searching for pro, but eventually found only two chockstones to sling and two cam placements for the entire pitch. I found the climbing extremely easy, and I tried to position myself such that a fall would take me into the trench rather than down the wall, but nevertheless four placements in 90 feet was not my idea of "PG." I think this pitch would make a new leader piss his or her pants. But since the climbing felt so secure it didn't worry me very much; in fact it led me to a tiny epiphany about what it means to be "solid" in a grade.
There have come moments in the last couple years in which I've decided that I was solid in trad 5.6, then 5.7, then 5.8, and for a month or so I thought I might actually be a 5.9 trad climber. Most of these moments came when I did a climb of whatever grade and things went well. Even if I found the climb difficult, I made the moves, I placed good gear, I didn't freak out, and it seemed like the best day ever at the cliff. Then I broke my ankle last October on a 5.9+ and after recovering and gaining a little weight I found myself uncertain of everything. This whole year turned into a one step forward/two steps back sort of situation, played out over and over again. Nothing at 5.8 or above seemed to come without complications, and I could never decide if my physical or mental condition was the handicap.
Climbing The Bomb on the Wind Tower, I realized that I might have discovered a way to measure my own solid-ness in a grade, at least when it comes to my mental state. I decided I can say I'm solid in the grade if I can calmly go about my business, even when no pro appears, and not be falling apart inside. This is pretty easy to accomplish on a 5.4. But what's the highest grade at which I can perform like this?
I certainly wouldn't set out to purposely test my performance with no pro at higher grades, but I do recall one pitch earlier this year where I stumbled into the same sort of situation at a higher grade than 5.4. I was with V in the Gunks, climbing Airy Aria. V led the 5.8 first pitch. It was one of my first 5.8 leads last year, but we hadn't completed it then and we were both excited to come back this year and finish the climb. V led pitch one well and I followed it with no issues, feeling good. I then took off from the bolts atop pitch one, planning to go all the way to the GT ledge in one pitch. I made the traverse out from the anchor with no problems, and may have deliberately passed up a gear placement just above the one at the end of the traverse, thinking I'd soon find another placement and that I should conserve gear. I then entered the steep 5.7 crux portion of the pitch, and I couldn't find any pro until it was over. I kept stepping up, looking for pro, and finding none. At one point I looked back to my last piece and I was extremely unhappy; a fall would have been ugly, a long swing. But as I couldn't see any gear options I had no choice but to carry on, telling myself not to worry, I am totally solid in this grade. Eventually I made it to the little belay stance above the crux, slammed in two cams, and could exhale.
At the time this experience reminded me of the maxim that you shouldn't pass up gear placement opportunities if you don't know where your next piece will be. But looking back on it now, I think it gives me some clarity as to where I stand with regards to 5.7. I've led a ton of 5.7s this year, refused to lead one or two, and backed off a couple that I didn't like the looks of after a couple moves. But when push comes to shove, when there's no pro and no choice but to carry on, I think I'm fine at the grade. 5.8? 5.9? I have no idea. So as much as I hate to admit it I don't think I can say today that I'm solid in either grade. I haven't yet passed the test.
Back to Eldo: as we topped out on the Wind Tower, the clouds finally disappeared and we enjoyed brilliant sunshine for the rest of the afternoon. After we descended we did a couple more easy pitches, then walked around the canyon just a little before heading back to Summit County. I got a look at the Whale's Tail and the giant Redgarden Wall, and felt hungry to return. Some day soon I have to make it happen. I trust the sandstone will wait for me.

Bike ride to Fineshade and Kings Cliffe

With Harry. Hot day. A few hills. loads of butterflies. Just under 18 miles.






Fab field of wild flowers just outside Gretton. Then downhill to Harringworth, up to Wakerley, down to the A43, across and down then up to Fineshade Woods. Quick stop for a drink, then we rode through the woods with a pause-papillons. No photos, mind, they hardly stopped fluttering.




Down to the edge of Kings Cliffe, past Blatherwick Lake, turn off to Laxton, cross A43 again. Through Laxton, downhill to Harringworth, then the long slow hill back into Gretton.



Had to go back later and take some more pics.

On the Road without a Roadbike

I like fast roadbikes, clipless pedals, bicycle computers, GPS, all of it. I do not subscribe to any philosophy that maligns these things in favour of the "slow bicycle movement" or whatever is the latest catch phrase to describe plain old regular bike riding. But I do believe in plain old regular bike riding, and sometimes I prefer it to any other kind. What are those times and what determines them, I couldn't tell you. It just happens.



When I went to Ireland last month I could have arranged to borrow a roadbike there, but opted against it - instead bringing along a folding bike that would have me riding upright the entire time. I knew I'd be slower and have more difficulty in the hilly areas, but somehow it just felt right to do it this way. I did not bring any cycling clothes. I did not bring a bicycle computer or a GPS device. Every day I simply looked at the map before setting off, then wrote out directions on a piece of paper. I explored interesting backroads and allowed myself to get lost. Occasionally I stopped to ask for directions. I did not miss my GPS. And I felt finehaving no idea how fast or slow I was going. What did it matter if I stopped every 20 minutes to take pictures anyhow.



Probably at least part of the reason I chose to do things this way, was to see how I would feel after more than two weeks without a roadbike - without that rush I get from the speed, without the reassuring glare of the computer screen and without the ritual of putting on the special clothing I'd gotten accustomed to.



But moreover, I have found that I prefer to ride slower and more upright when the focus of the ride is on exploring the surrounding area and not on cycling in of itself. Having never been to Ireland before, I really wanted to experience it as a human on a bicycle, rather than as a cyclist. And yes, there is a difference. Even the wearing of regular clothing and shoes played a role in this. The way people react to me is different, and the way I feel in the environment is different.



Now that I know the place better, now that it's more familiar, next time I would love to do some fast road rides along the Antrim coast. To ride through the glens on skinny tires, bent over my handlebars and pedaling as fast as I can. Bliss. A different sort of bliss than this time.



The more experience I gain with different types of bikes and different styles of cycling, the more I feel that the main thing is just to be out there, on your own terms. We like to define things, to draw boundaries. But often those boundaries are self-imposed. The road is calling. The bike is up to you.

Those Pesky Gunks Sevens!

(Photo: That's me in the yellow/green jacket past the crux on Thin Slabs Direct (5.7+).)



In my last post I discussed (and expressed skepticism about) several supposed 5.8 sandbags in the Trapps.



Then on Friday of last week, climbing with a new partner Matt, I was reminded of some other sandbags that are not so easily dismissed.



These climbs are like landmines for the unsuspecting leader. They promise smooth, moderate sailing but instead deliver moments of puzzlement and sketchitude.



I speak, of course, of those bewildering oddites otherwise known asGunks 5.7's.



LastFridayMatt and Iwerehoping tojump onBirdie Party, but we found it occupied. Matt suggested wedo Anguish instead since it was open and neither of us had done it. It seemed like a good idea to me. I intended to link the first two pitches in one and take us all the way up to the GT Ledge. Matt would take the crux 5.8 pitch to the top. I thoughtthe first two pitcheslooked pretty easy, except for the new crux of the first pitch that Dick Williams described in his 2004 guidebook. Instead of the traditional route, which moved to the right over a flake/corner at 5.4, Dick now recommends a roof escape to the left at 5.7-.



I thought I remembered a thread on Gunks.com where folks had complained that this roof escape felt much harder than 5.7. (I can't find such a thread now, so maybe it never existed.) But I wasn't worried. I thought it might feel like a 5.8, but so what? I'd be fine. How bad could it be?



Then I got up there under the roof and found out.



I had pro in the corner but it was all the way at the back. I tried to get something in the little flaring notch at the lip of the roof but I couldn't get anything on my rack to stick.



Then I started to pull over the roof, looking for holds, but whatever holds there were seemed very far away.



So I retreated a bit to a stance and thought it over. Dick said escape left, I realized. He didn't say to pull the roof directly.



Goingback up, Itried to follow Dick's orders and escape left. I got a hold of some small crimps and moved around the outside arete. But this put me at a really pumpy stance and the next move up was far from certain. Plus my pro was over to the right and back in the corner. I didn't like this at all. I retreated again.



Three or four times I tried to make my escape but on each occasion I didn't like the move or the potential fall so I came back. And then, defeated,I finally said "screw it" and finished the pitch the 5.4 way.



What a way to start a new climbing partnership! Bailing on a 5.7-.



Matt led the 5.8 pitch three of Anguish and it is really very good. It has some nice crux moves up to the overhang; then the overhang itself is a bit easier. The rest of the way is even more casual but thegear is a little thin. The topout requires a few easy slab moves above your pro.



I wouldn't bother to repeat pitches one and two of Anguish-- the quality moments are few, even if you include the part I skipped--but if I were descending from another climb using the nearby Three Pines rappel routeI woulddefinitely consider running up the third pitch of Anguish again.The pitchbegins on the GT Ledge right around the corner from the bolted anchor, and once you top out it's an easy walk just a few yards over to the bolts on top of the cliff for the descent.



Later in the day, after I'd redeemed myself a bit and led some harder climbs, I mentioned how embarrassed I was to have begun the day by chickening out on a 5.7-. Matt responded that he'd taken a fall at the tricky crux move of Baskerville Terrace (5.7) just a few weeks before-- and thisright after a successful lead of Roseland (5.9)! So I didn't have to feel too bad. He knew what I was going through.



Those pesky sevens!



There sure seem to be a lot of "problem" sevens at the Gunks, no? I've certainly had more 5.7difficulties than 5.8 difficulties. I've never bailed on a 5.8 lead. But here I abandoned Anguish pitch one, andI also remember a couple of seasons ago trying the opening move to Trapped Like a Rat (5.7) and then abandoning that one too. And don't even get me started on that stupid grease-pole-of-a-sandbag Laurel. Come to think of it, I once bailed on a 5.8: Drunkard's Delight (5.8-), but that route too wasuntil recentlyconsidered a 5.7+!



We finished our day last Friday with perhapsthe mother of all 5.7 sandbags: Thin Slabs Direct.



Matt led the 5.7 variation to pitch one, and wouldn't you know it, as he approached the end of the vertical crack that marks the early part of the route, I heard him muttering "Why is this so tricky??"



And then "Watch me here!"



But he sketched through the hard part and then took the lead all the way to the GT Ledge.



When it was my turn to follow I was kind of shocked at how thin the first twosteps off the ground were. I wasn't sure I could even get started on the pitch. But we all know that no matter how hard the first move is, it doesn't count as part of the difficulty rating in the Gunks. Once I got my feet on the wall and my hands in the crack, I thought the climbing was enjoyable and, yes, kind of stiff for 5.7.



When I got near the top of the crack I saw what Matt had been concerned about. The hands were good, but the feet were smeary.I knew with one morereach the angle would ease off; the harder variation start would be over.As I smearedand reached up with the security of the toprope,I thought:"nice lead!"



And: "5.7??"



Once Igot tothe GT LedgeI had to confront the Thin Slabs Direct finish, which is supposedly 5.7+. This variationhas the distinction of being the only "direct" finish I can think of that is actually substantially less direct than the regular route. It is in fact the very antithesis of "direct." The whole point of the variation is to force the leader to traverse to the right for fifteento twenty feet out of the way, over aterrifying drop, with slippery hands and no real footholds to speak of.



I first attempted this pitch in . Before I got to the Direct finish, I led Sente, onsight, to start the climb. This wasmy first 5.9 lead ever, which made me very proud. Then I joined Thin Slabs up to the GT Ledge and promptly got thoroughly humbled by Thin Slabs Direct. I remember being so pumped as I attempted it. Ifound itvery difficult to let go with one hand long enough to clip the three ancient pitons that line the traverse; forget about even attempting to place my own gear. Eventually, after going out and back a few times and taking a hang in the middle,I got to the end of the traverse and managed to pull my body inelegantly onto the shelf on the main face of the cliff. Lying there on the shelf, I was grateful I had survived the climb, but I knew it was no victory.



I wrote a little self-deprecatingpieceabout the experience at the time on Gunks.com (see my post at the bottom of the page). Until last Friday I hadn't been back.



And this time, climbing Thin Slabs Direct felt... well... tough for 5.7, that's for sure. And it was still scary, there's no doubt about that. But mostlyclimbing it againmade me realize how much I've improved. If you hang off that shelf in justthe right way it isn't so pumpy. There are footholds to be found, they just aren't very big.And ifyou turn your body sideways, just so,your feet can really help you, and the clipping isn't so hard. A little technique will get you there.



This time, once I committed to the traverse I moved right through it, coming around the corner without a hitch. It was a great way to end the day, and it nearly erased the bad feelings I got from pitch one of Anguish.



But still, after it was over, there was no escaping one conclusion: Thin Slabs, with both variations, isafreaking HARD 5.7. I mean really, what is it with those Gunks sevens?

Entering Oregon

Delicate Wonder

On our days off this week one of the places we visited was Cascade River State Park, where each year there are several stemless lady's slippers in bloom. These flowers are so beautiful and are an iconic subject of the north woods. We noticed that it is interesting how the "slipper" part of the flower hangs differently from the yellow lady's slipper. On the yellow slipper, the slipper sticks almost straight out and on the stemless slipper, it hangs almost straight down. Both flowers are incredibly beautiful and are a joy to find when you are out on the trail. We spent quite a while observing and taking photos of these flowers. Most photos I've seen show the flowers from the front but my favorite view of them was this angle from the side. I also love the blurry yellow clintonia in the background :-)

Blury in the Snow

Tombstone Tuesday :: William and Catherine Dunfee

The Dunfee Family plot in the Masonic Section of Greenhill Cemetery, Columbia City, Whitley County, Indiana. Starting from the bottom of the picture are the grave markers for Laura Virginia Dunfee, Albert Eugene Dunfee, and Harry Hamilton Dunfee and His Unnamed Twin Brother.

The large stone in the center of the photo is for William Hamilton Dunfee and his wife, Catherine B. Jones. They are my 3rd Great-Grandparents. The little marker next to their stone simply says "Father" and there is a corresponding "Mother" stone on the other side.

The stone to the left of the marker for William and Catherine is for their daughter, Henrietta Rebecca Dunfee (1852-1941), and the next stone is for their son William James Dunfee (1854-1942) and his wife, Elizabeth Walker (1861-1915).

On the south side of the marker is William's inscription:
OUR / FATHER / W. H. DUNFEE / BORN / ADAMS CO. PENN. / APRIL 10, 1822. / DIED / MAY 29, 1888. / AGED / 66 Y's. 1 Mo. 19 D's.

The inscription beneath his age is not legible.

Catherine's inscription is on the north side of the marker.
MOTHER / CATHERINE B. DUNFEE / BORN IN / MUSKINGDOM CO. OHIO / JAN. 15, 1829 / DIED FEB. 17, 1903 / AGED 74Y. 1M. 2D / Dear mother, fond memory / clings to thee.

It was very thoughtful of them to include the location of their births as well as full dates of birth and death!

Catherine came to Whitley County with her mother and siblings in October 1845. At about the same time, William arrived in Fort Wayne where he was working as a cabinet maker. Two years later, William came to Whitley County and became acquainted with Catherine. They were married on March 5, 1848. Of the seven children born to them, only three survived to adulthood. Of those three, their daughter Sophia was the only one to have children who had children. Sophia married William P. Wise. They are my 2nd great grandparents.

Waterspouts on Pamlico Sound

One nice thing about staying put in areas for a longer period of time, is that we learn things from the people there that we wouldn't know otherwise. For example, when I got to work today someone asked me if I saw the waterspouts out there. I had no idea what a waterspout was. They said go and look out the window and look up at the sky. Once I saw it, I had no idea how I missed it on my way to work. I called Nathan and sent him out to take some pictures of them.

Waterspouts are tornadoes that are over the water instead of land. And they are something else to watch.

You learn something new every day!

Boone Hall Plantation

I just so happened to read about this place on another FOTR's blog. I'm so glad I did because this was one of the most interesting places we have visited so far! Boone Hall is a working plantation and is the oldest continuous working plantation in the US.

We took a tour of the lower level of the "big house". The owners still use the upper levels of the house. The house was built in 1936. It is listed on the National Register of Historic Places. The tour guide was dressed in costume and was very friendly and interesting. The TV series North and South with Patrick Swayze was filed here. The movies Queen with Halle Berry and The Notebook were filmed here also.

The next thing you can visit is the row of slave cabins. They date back to 1790-1810 and are mostly in their original state. These were only some of the slave houses and would have been the workers that held more important positions. The houses were built with bricks that were made here and were evidence of the slaves' skills. Some of the bricks still have the handprints from their makers.



As you move through the cabins, each one represents one aspect of the slaves' lives. There are audio presentations to share the information.

Some of the crafts were on display. On top of that, a woman was there making some of the sweetgrass baskets.



The grounds are just gorgeous with gardens and trees everywhere.

We took an open air coach ride to see the fields that are still in operation.

Our favorite thing by far was learning about the Gullah culture. We first heard the word "Gullah" when we listened to the audiobook "The Mermaid Chair" together. We were honored to sit and listen to Carolyn "Jabulile" White, who grew up on the sea islands.



"Jabulile" has travelled to South Africa with the Presbyterian Peacemaking Program Travel Study Seminar for PEace. While there she was given the Zulu name "Jabulile" meaning Happiness and this is what she hopes to pass on thru her stories.



She learned the art of Gullah storytelling from her parents and grand parents. "Jabulile" thought it is only natural that she should sheare these stories with the people in her community, especially the children. She speaks fluent Gullah when telling her stories using Island-dialect just as she heard them on the Island as a child. She tells her stories with the same humor of the old stories told on the Plantations.



If you are in the area, I highly recommend visiting this place. Very interesting history here and it's done in a way that truly makes it come alive!



Living the life in sunny South Carolina!

Grab Your Ice Axe and Head for the Hills!

All right folks, this is it! You can ski 7,500 feet of vertical this weekend at Paradise!

First the hype.

Rarely during the winter does the weather turn so nice for so long! I made a run from just above Ingraham Flats (11,500') to Longmire (2,700'), and that's almost 9,000 feet in one run. As you'll read later in this post, I wouldn't particularly recommend skiing the lower 1,500 feet, but 7,500' isn't too bad, is it? With this intense temperature inversion in effect, it may be warmer at 5,500' than at 2,700'. In fact, at Camp Muir on Thursday morning, the temperature was 46 degrees! I could almost smell this coming weekend's barbeques in the Paradise lot, the sun tan oil, and the kids having a great time in the newly groomed snowplay area.


Now the beta.



The snow is setting up and developing into good corn. On the way up from Paradise this morning for a patrol to Camp Muir, the snow was set up enough to walk on with just boots (around 10:00 a.m.). The skinning was great, until I got to just below Pan Point. It was set up enough that it took two tries to get up a particular pitch I was trying to ascend. If you're going up early, I'd recommend a pair of crampons and an ice axe.


Just about everything was skiable in the Paradise area today. The snow is nice and smooth, but BEWARE! This afternoon's heat was bringing down small wet loose avalanches in steeper gulleys. Read the latest avalanche report from the NWAC: http://www.nwac.us/


Edith Creek Basin looked awesome and smooth. Mazama Ridge really looked nice. Once through the gauntlet at Pan Point, the rest was just a beautiful skin up to Camp Muir! The ski penetration eventually got to around 1-2 inches. That's nothing compared to slogging up in waist deep snow.


Once up to around 9,000 feet, the snowfield becomes badly pocked with sastrugi, and we're talking BIG sastrugi features. Not fun to ski through. If you're up on the Muir Snowfield, remember, it's always a good idea to have the "bearing sheet" for the compass bearing, if the weather should turn bad.


Camp Muir is open and ready for business. The toilets are shoveled out. The public shelter is accessible. Would someone please shovel the snow out that's drifted inside? Be aware that I tested the public radio, and it seems to be dead. I shoveled snow off of the solar panels on the roof. This may solve the problem. Bring a Verizon cell phone just in case of an emergency. Remember you need a backcountry permit (free) if you are just staying at Camp Muir and not going above.


I made it up to Ingraham Flats in a turtleneck T-shirt. Now that's rare for January! I was able to skin right up to the top of Cathedral Gap, but on the traverse past the Gap, just to be safe, I took the skis off and put the crampons on. But I could've walked with my crampons all the way from Paradise. Once I was back out on the glacier, the skis went back on and I was able to skin up to about 11,500' before it was time to turn around. The snow was nice styrofoam. If you're interested in heading up above Camp Muir, remember you need a climbing permit and a climbing pass whether your purposes are just skiing or climbing.


The ski down was great through Cathedral Gap. In 10 minutes I was back at Camp Muir. I left Muir at about 3:00 p.m. I skied through this terrible sastrugi that I described above, but then I dove off down the Nisqually Glacier. It goes! For those of you interested in skiing down the glacier, remember to bring along a friend and some extrication gear. The snow was getting soft in the afternoon making crevasse falls more likely. Since you're on a glacier, technically you need a climbing permit and a climbing pass.


I hit it at about 3:30, when it was a little on the soft side. Who knows how things will be this weekend, but I would try to stick it a little earlier. The slopes above on the Nisqually Cliffs were getting some warm sun. Be weary of avalanches coming down, and especially rockfall! Beware of a lot of little rocks and pebbles in the snow.


Once down on the flat part of the Nisqually (around 6,400 feet), I was surprised at how fast I was able to cruise. I crossed over to the west side of the glacier, and skied down the nose of the glacier to the terminus. It was very soft, a little too soft. I had my first biff. From there it was a cruise to the bridge. Bring a friend with another car for the ride back up to Paradise!


I continued skiing the Nisqually River bed down to Cougar Rock Campground where I caught the Wonderland Trail for the rest of the push to Longmire. All in all, I skied just about 9,000 feet of vert. But I wouldn't recommend this last bit from the bridge on down. With a few creek crossings and some wet feet, it was a bit of a jungle boogie.


In a nutshell, the skiing, the climbing, the sledding and/or just suntanning at Paradise looks great this weekend and if you're from Washington, you'll know that we need to take advantage of this!

More training ups and downs

My fortune over the past wee while hasn’t been great. I’m just back to being human after losing just short of 2 weeks in bed with a virus which floored me. Normally with most bugs I just reduce my training a bit and get some work done while I’m ill. This time I couldn’t do anything except lie in bed and shiver.




Not to dwell on the details. But it obviously meant no training was done apart from ab-busting cough workouts. After I finally exited the other side, I was overflowing with eagerness to get going again, so jumped straight back on my board and onto the trails. After three days straight of bouldering and running, I could feel every muscle in my body.




Unfortunately, on the 4th day I was booked to jog up Ben Nevis with Michael for the end of his city to summit race (swim the Forth at Edinburgh, cycle 110m to Glen Coe and then marathon finishing up and down Ben Nevis). On one hand, if it hadn’t been Michael’s race day, I would’ve probably moaned about just going to the kitchen to put the kettle on, never mind putting my running shoes on. On the other, if you can’t run up the Ben with a man who’s just come from Edinburgh under his own steam, it doesn’t look great, even if he is a machine.











So we had a nice jog up and it wasn’t so bad after all. Just inspiring. Over the past few months I have at various points given up on running due to continued ankle pain, only to start again a couple of weeks later. Changing my running gait to account for the ankle damage had caused knock on effects - an annoyed tibialis posterior tendon. It’s a bit of a tale of woe, but I’m beginning to think I could start a little gentle regular running again. Tomorrow I’ll maybe try something a little longer and see how it goes.




At the tail end of my virus I put in some productive days on my book, which inches ever closer to a finished first draft. Just a bit on shoulders and we’re done. Then on Friday I was at the opening of the new ice wall in the Snow Factor in Glasgow. It was pretty weird moving on ice and dry tooling boards. By the end of the day I was quite sad that winter is finally over.






In the coming week, I shall be climbing, running, route setting, book writing and then off for the first climbing trip of the summer. Exciting times!

Blank Canvas

For many of my cycling friends, winter is the time for making big plans. Like the vast snowscape outside, the seasons ahead spread out, blank canvas-like, glittering with possibilities. We are increasingly spoiled for choice here: Beautiful unpaved rides, formal and informal brevets, invitational weekend getaways - it's enough to make one's head spin. And it all requires budgeting, scheduling, prioritising, oftentimes with advanced planning and registration. And so in the coldest days of February, over cups of scalding coffee, cyclists speak in agonised whispers of events to come in the summer months.




I used to listen with curiosity and detached amusement. As someone who generally resists planning, I could not imagine scheduling a summer's worth of weekends around cycling events. But this time around I am getting swept up in it all.




Staring at the pile of snow outside my window, I find myself considering ahill climb race. I don't expect to do well at all, but I think I might enjoy it. Feeling that is a surprise to me; wanting to do it is a surprise. But when I imagine the climbing and the festive atmosphere, I want to be there - pedaling and feeling the strain, delirious as I strive for a summit I might not have the stamina to reach. Weird, isn't it, the things we can enjoy.




Plodding along the riverside trail, I contemplate this year's brevet series. I love the idea of randonneuring. But truthfully, I don't think I am serious about it - or ready for it, depending on how you look at it. On long rides that pass through beautiful places, what I really want to do is explore, carry a big camera, stop any time I like and constantly take photos - which is at odds with being on the clock. It might make more sense to finally put aside some time for a light multi-day tour.




Cleaning the salt and crud off my bike after a slushy outing, I remember long dreamy rides on unpaved roads. It seems almost fictional now: Going from the "baby" D2R2 route to the hair-raising loose descents of the Kearsarge Klassic in a matter of weeks, riding borrowed bikes with unfamiliar components,rental cars at 5:00 in the morning... Absurd. But oh how I long to do it again (minus the borrowed bikes, I hope), andhow I long to find more rides in the same vein. I am even willing to plan in advance and make commitments.




This winter is turning out to be brutal. But the months ahead are a blank canvas, and putting down the initial sketch is keeping me sane.

Big Water Santee

Obviously, we've stayed at a campground or two over the past eighteen months. They tend to blur together after a bit. The one we are at now is one I think will continue to stand out in our minds. The sites are pull through and level and big enough to park our rig and truck on. We have full hook ups with 50 amps. The campground is pretty and on a lake. All good stuff.

What had my heart singing with glee though was the pool area. There is a fish shaped pool. There is a pool that has the baby pool built into one end so you can watch your little one play while being in the deeper end yourself. There is a splash zone. And there is my all time favorite water park feature: a lazy river. I think I spent three or four heavenly hours in this part of the campground. With an hour or so of that time including me reading a book while floating on the lazy river. I may want to stay here forever.





Living the life in South Carolina!

Desert in Snow

I thought that my photos were blurry until I realized it was the snow falling that was casuing them to look blurry. There was about an inch here but there was more at other places up to about 3 or 4 inches.

Welcome Home Tribute to Soldiers and Veterans!

On August 21, 1919 the Auditorium of City Hall in Columbia City, Indiana was the scene of a "Welcome Home Day" Dinner. Being honored were the World War Solders and Veterans of the Civil War and Spanish American War. The tables were set to serve 600 soldiers and veterans.

The caption on the back of the photos states that the ladies in the pictures are from the various townships and waited on the tables. Photographs are courtesy of the Whitley County Historical Museum. The first picture is from the rear of the room looking toward the stage while the second one was taken from the stage looking toward the rear of the room.

This dinner was held on the same day as the annual Old Settler's Day Celebration. In addition to the dinner there was a grand patriotic parade through town.

As a way of remembering and honoring the 21 Whitley County, Indiana soldiers who died during World War I, their biographies and photographs have been posted on my other blog, Whitley County Kinexxions, at World War I Gold Star Soldiers of Whitley County.

Jumbo Rocks

In the northern portion of Joshua Tree National Park is an area known for its unique rock formations. It is a fascinating and fun area to explore. There were quite a few people bouldering and rock climbing, but I wasn't one of them! Although I did walk on a few of rocks, I'm just not adept or flexible enough to do the tough stuff. I'll leave that to the younger crowd and to those that know what they are doing!