Crystal Backcountry ..

Steve invited me to join him, Sebe and Toph for some skiing. The decision was made to head to the Crystal backcountry and so I tagged along. There were flurries, and a temp of 33° when Steve cam to pick me up in Seattle. We met Toph somewhere south on Renton, and continued in his car. I don't have a great idea of where we skied, but best I can tell we skinned up under the Gold Hills chair and made a few runs in the Pickhandle Basin.

The chair we skinned under was not yet open, due to lack of coverage. No rocks, but plenty of shrubs visible. It didn't impair our skinning and soon we were at the top of the chair ducking into the woods. This is where it got slow. The trees were narrow and we spent plenty of time avoiding downed trees and forcing through narrow gaps between other trees. If there were a few more feet of coverage, we would have had it easier, but these were the cards we were dealt. At one point we even booted a bit due to a steep section with many trees. After that, the forest opened up a bit and we started skinning again until booting the last thirty feet or so to the ridge. We then skinned on the ridge, which was not that great and we should have booted. We got to a nice area out of the wind to drop in and transitioned over.

The snow was deep! Deepest snow we had experienced yet on the day was our first run down. Deep powder, and no rocks. A really fun run. Wasn't too steep, probably a blue run. I had a little difficulty starting out as I was third in line and wanted to go farther right to get into cleaner snow. The snow was slow, and the traverse almost stopped me before I rounded a small tree and turned downslope.

My first run (Photo by Steve Machuga)

We gathered at the bottom and headed up again to a different location on the ridge and a sub bowl on the original run. We found a fun wide chute to run and transitioned back to downhill. Steve went first on a bold run of an arete which slid a bit after he made a few turns. I was third in line and enjoyed the run, but it was definitely a little more avalanche prone and a bit rocky in spots. At the bottom we skied through the tree for a bit until we came to a meadow.

My second run (Photo by Steve Machuga)

We all figured that the terrain would drop again in the woods on the other side of the meadow, so Toph was going to post hole across and then put his board back on while us skiers would shuffle with no skins. Unfortunately, on the other side of the meadow the relatively flat or rolling terrain continued and we all skinned up to make it out of the woods. More unfun tree skinning and we were finally back at the top of the lift ready to make one last run to the car. No issues on the final run and soon we were driving back to Seattle.

This was a fun outing even considering the poor skinning in the trees both up and down. I skied well, but not great. Not bad for almost five months of not skiing. I look forward to getting out again soon.

My pics are here.

Grand Canyon :: Indian Gardens to Plateau Point

This is the third installment, before continuing you might want to read the first and second parts of the story! For whatever reason, most likely just plain tired, I didn't get any pictures of our campsite. Like all of the sites at Indian Gardens it had a picnic table with a shelter over it along with metal boxes in which to store your food and toiletries (the odors will draw the critters). After a brief rest we ate our lunch of pita bread sandwiches, protein bars, and trail mix. For some reason it tasted quite good!

Then it was off to our second destination of the day – Plateau Point, which lies 1.5 miles north over a relatively easy trail. The trail to Plateau Point can be seen in the second photo of the second post in this series.

As we were coming off the last switchback and down into the canyon at Indian Gardens we had noticed a change. More trees, brighter green, and glorious Red Bud trees in full bloom! Just beyond the campground, alongside the stream, there was a grove of Red Buds. Their flowers contrasted brightly against the green of the surrounding trees and the grass growing beneath their branches.




And the little cactus plants literally covered the ground in some spots. And they were nearly ready to burst forth into bloom! On the way out to Plateau Point, we saw just one cactus in bloom with gorgeous deep red flowers, but it was too far off the trail. However, on the way back, Fred spotted another blooming cactus, just a few feet away. I just had to stop and get a few pictures of it. Amazing color. And it wouldn't be long before the desert floor was carpeted with their color. It had to have been an incredible sight.



The view of the Colorado River from Plateau Point, looking east.

Looking west.

We spent several hours at Plateau Point. Much of the time we were alone and it was so peaceful and quiet. People would come and go, make noisy chit-chat, then leave us. For a while we watched a group of six Condors riding the air thermals until they disappeared into the distance. You could occasionally hear the water tumbling over the rapids far below. Ravens soared and swallows flitted over and around us. Sitting on the rocks, on the edge, yet in the middle of the Canyon is indescribable. As the sun lowered in the sky, the air took on a chill, and we reluctantly left Plateau Point.

We thought about staying and watching the sunset, but we didn't have any lights with us. Instead, we went back, got our lights, then walked to a point that provided a decent view. We knew we wouldn't be able to actually see the sun drop below the horizon but thought perhaps it's waning rays would add some color to the Canyon. It wasn't spectacular though it was quite nice. A fitting end to an incredible day. One that started out a little “iffy” but turned out great. We really couldn't have asked for a better day to make the trek into the Canyon. Quite memorable.

How Much to Carry on a Ride?

When riding for sport or recreation, I've noticed that the amount of stuff I feel that I "need" to bring along is not only subjective, but dictated by my bike's setup. When my bicycle is set up with a handlebar or saddlebag, that bag inevitably ends up filled with things I am convinced I need. What if it rains? Let me just stuff a jacket in there. And a sweater in case I misjudge the temperature. What if I get hungry? Pack some food just in case. Why not stop to take pictures? In goes the DSLR camera. And maybe a book in case I stop for coffee. By the time I am done, the bag is bulging with all the things I "need" for the ride.

And yet when riding a roadbike without any kind of bag attached, I somehow manage to make do with my jersey pockets: Keys, phone, money. Done. Leave. Ride. Even when the morning starts out cold and I end up removing layers of clothing toward the end, I can usually just stuff them in one of the pockets (that's a wool long sleeve tee sticking out of the left one and a pair of gloves in the center). I can keep surprisingly large food items in there as well - riding with a banana or an apple in a jersey pocket has not been a problem.

There is a point of view among cyclists that a bulky saddlebag or handlebar bag on anything shorter than a daylong ride is an affectation and an unnecessary handicap. There is also the opposite point of view - that riding without a fully packed bag is akin to being unprepared and irresponsible. I can sort of relate to both ways of looking at it, depending on the mood I am in.A year ago, I felt "safer" with a bag even if I did not need it, but nowI prefer to carry as little as possible. If I want to focus on the cycling, I take only what fits in my jersey pockets. If I am using my bike to explore photographic locations then a bag is a must, but I try my best not to overpack it.

How much do you carry with you on a ride and has this changed with your riding style?

Orange Pepper

This 'California Wonder' bell pepper is almost ready to be picked. Anyone have some good recipes using bell peppers?

So the Kingdom of the Netherlands finally has a King

I’m back in the Netherlands from my road trip and currently watching history unfold before the television—the Netherlands has a new king after 120 years! As I write this, the festivities in orange-bedecked Amsterdam is far from over. In fact, the party has just begun.









It’s been mentioned a few times in this blog that I am not into the monarchy thing. I don’t follow personalities in general per se. However, I see royalty as culture and an important part of the country’s history, so therefore I regard their presence and identity well in the society.



Life as a high-profile royal, especially a European royal is not an easy walk in the park. Because gone are the days that royals have real power. They are somewhat demoted to being the PR house (press relations) of the country and are often seen as a symbol that unites the nation and as an image representation internationally.



THIS IS A FACT: European royals live in glass covered palaces. Everything they do are subjected to criticism. They have a committee of advisors that help them give meaning to privacy and living normal lives, away from the scrutiny of the media and the public. Royals in principle have no real freedom; they can’t even speak out their minds? They learn to become puppets and people pleasers.



This is what happens when you have an empowered and watchful media - populace that can and will find fault on everything about people placed on pedestals.



I can’t say much about royals in other parts of the world, but try criticising the king or queen of an Asian or Arab country and you’ll see serious ramifications. Whereas in Europe, the royals—kings and queens, and princes and princesses have become the laughing stock of many tabloids, public commentary platforms and television commercials and shows. They are fragile and their existence are at the hands of their people (check out the troubled royals in Spain and Belgium). Times indeed have changed!



Hmm, definitely not a place I would love to sit. Like I said, it is not easy being a royal in Europe.







TRIVIA: Did you know that in the Netherlands the king is not crowned but instead inaugurated? He does not literally wear the crown compared to their counterpart in the UK (where the Queen literally wears the crown). In the Netherlands, the crown is seen as a symbol only. Because in reality, the royal house does not have power over the politics and the land.



Interestingly, many Dutch people (and I think Europeans in a country with a royal house) would not ever want to be in their shoes. I remember growing up and dreaming of becoming a princess—don’t we all go through this phase? Well, let’s just say that I am glad it remains a dream of a bygone childhood era.



Here’s a good write up from BBC about the adaptability of the Dutch Royal ‘Orange’ House into the 21st century.



Willem-Alexander sworn in as King of the Netherlands

BBC picture slideshow of the event



More picture slideshow from NU.nl:



King Willem-Alexander inauguration

Royal boat parade on Het IJ

More pictures of other European royals guests



Lastly, you might ask why I or we didn’t go to Amsterdam to witness the event? Well, firstly, we are not royal fans... secondly, we hate crowds... and thirdly, we are not anymore into partying. It’s better to follow the events on the tube in the comforts of my lounge chair.



Other than that, I really had no energy left after my road trip. I even slept on the sofa this afternoon watching the event. Dutchman and I were glad we stayed at home, relaxed and far from the craziness we are watching on TV.



Nevertheless, more soon about the road trip I made =)



April 30,

The Netherlands

The Keweenaw Peninsula :: Breakfast Nook

Monday, August 8th - - As nice as the weather was, I decided to leave the Keweenaw Peninsula and move on to other places. The campground was great – in full shade for the most part, which would have been really nice in warmer temperatures. But as it was, with temps in the mid-70s and lots of shade, it was a little cool. (Yeah, I know, some people are never satisfied!)



I left the campground early without eating breakfast, hoping to find a nice warm spot in the sunshine.





A beautiful spot for breakfast!



A few geese were the only things around.



How do these things manage to find a foothold, and survive?



It was a most enjoyable interlude.

The Great Arch, Pabbay, finally free

Donald King and myself, enjoying the boat ride back from Pabbay. The mugs were the boatman’s by the way.




June is often a time to get on a boat and go and find some amazing new sea cliff climbs to be done in the Hebrides. I’ve been lucky to have done more than my fair share over the past ten years. Yet they just keep coming! One place I’d never yet been was Pabbay. The obvious target was the Great Arch project.




The arch is of course the most striking and obvious challenge on the island. And like other lines of similar calibre such as the Longhope Route, it’s also going to be the hardest. Great! It was first tried by Cubby Cuthbertson and Lynn Hill while they were being filmed for a BBC TV programme in 1997. On that trip, the route didn’t go free although they did record it with a rest/aid point. With better weather and a bit more time, I’m sure they’d have done it. You don’t get a much stronger team that those two! Talking of strong teams, the next party to attempt it was Steve Mclure and Lucy Creamer a few years ago. Steve inspected the line on abseil and then made a great attempt to flash it, getting through the first crux. He fell in the roof, pulled back up to his highpoint on the rope and carried on to the end. He opted not to come back and make the free ascent. So, after all these years, it still needed doing. The projected grade I'd heard for the free ascent was E9 7a, but in the end E8 6c was more like it.











That is a roof that needs climbing.




I headed over with Donald King to see if we could do it. We had a good window of time to cope with the usual sea cliff problems of sea spray dampness and bad weather. So I was quite relaxed and excited about getting on it. On our first day I abseiled down the crux top pitch through the huge horizontal roof. It was totally damp with sea spray so all I could do that day was pull on and try a few individual moves in the roof on the GriGri and then do the first couple of wet pitches for something to do, abseiling off into the sea around midnight in fading light.




Next day I waited until the evening to even go on it in the hope the sea spray might dry out a bit more. It was fortunately drier when I arrived. I went down and played about a bit more on the abseil rope for an hour or so and had that feeling that maybe I ought to stop there and have a good go at the whole route the next day (and last before a big rainy front arrived).




On day three we were disappointed to find the dreaded sea spray hanging like a mist under the great arch. It was a roasting hot sunny day, but the route was dripping. All we could do was lie and sleep in the sun on the hot boulders at the base for four hours. Hard life eh?












Pitch 2.




However, sunbathing was not what I traveled all that way for. So at around tea time, almost without speaking, we got ourselves together and just started going upwards. Pitches 1 and 2 round the first pitch flew by in minutes. The big third pitch was a grunt with still wet holds lurking in the big roof, but it also went fairly smoothly for both Donald and myself. The infamous offwidth slot of pitch 4 was only a few metres in length, but my first experience of ‘scapular walking’. I have no idea if that is a climbing technique, but it worked. Pitch 5 was the most gloriously exposed and finely positioned 5a pitch I’ve ever climbed. It was so relaxing. A cool breeze began to blow as I started it, and became more and more noticeable as I shuffled across the brilliant incut flakes of gneiss, a huge roof below my feet, another looming directly overhead.












The roof of pitch 3 looming overhead. This pitch was about E5.





By the time I reached the belay below the crux 6^th pitch through the great arch, the breeze was chilling me, and I could see the colour of the gniess turning before my eyes from a that familiar flat grey of dampness to the crisp white of dryness; and friction. It’s been a wee while since I’ve had that great feeling of ‘now is the time to go for it’. Simultaneously feeling a little queasy in the stomach, and anxious to release the physical energy and adrenaline which is bursting to get out.






The next thing I knew I was 10 metres up the pitch, leaning back with my hands off with double knee bars behind a huge undercut in the most outrageous position. The first crux was right above. A full stretch reach from the undercut to a tiny crimp and then a boulder problem to get to the break at the back of the arch itself. In the space of ten minutes I’d gone from a bag of nerves with a stomach full of butterflies, to feeling totally relaxed and just eager to go for it. So the first crux felt easy.




Unsurprisingly, the transition to completely horizontal roof climbing felt a bit of a shock to the system, and I fumbled with two cams, and then decided not to even bother with the third. I was getting too pumped. I got really excited about the next seconds as I’d find out whether I had enough power to do the crux, or fling myself into the huge space below and test the cams and wires in the creaky roof flake. So I realised I better move it before excitement turned to nerves. What followed was a classic climbing moment of a blur of slapping hands, quickly made up sequences on the hop when I did it all wrong, and a bit of aggression. In no time I found myself stood above the lip, panting to catch my breath.




The great thing about roof climbs is once you get over the lip, it’s usually over and you know it. All that was left was to fully soak up the spacey atmosphere as I abseiled back down to strip the roof and dangle around on the rope waxing about the route just climbed as the sun finally sunk into the sea.




After a 1am dinner of curry, rice pudding and cups of tea at the tents, the rain started. 36 hours or storm later, the back of the great arch had become a waterfall which would have taken days to dry out, and we got on an early boat home. On the ferry back from Barra, we were suitably inspired to seek out some more obvious great lines to point ourselves at in the Hebrides in the not too distant future. A good start to the summer, which has come seriously late in the highlands this year.













Well happy abseiling back down to strip the runners from the roof.












A happy rock climber












A still happy rock climber abbing in to do Prophesy of Drowning, E2, just before getting the boat home. If you climb E2, you must do this route.












Smiles are a running theme for rock climbers on Pabbay. It’s pretty good!












Do you need any more convincing that Prophesy of Drowning is a very very good E2?












Hebridean sunsets on the ferry home. A good moment to dream up new climbing plans.

Farewell to a Difficult Season

Today is the last day of March - and hopefully the last day of what has been a prolonged, difficult winter season. I don't think I am the only one to feel this way: Many bicycle blogs have slowed down this month - with fewer posts and fewer comments, and lots of people have mentioned feeling dispirited.
Funny that March should be the month to almost do us in, rather than January or February. But the key word is almost. My unexpected relationship with Jacqueline gave me just enough of a spiritual boost to deal with the alarming situation that greeted me upon my return to New England: days of non-stop downpours and flooding! Well, I won't let it get me down. April is just a day away and so is the warmth and colour of spring.

In the meantime, I send my regards to all the excellent blogs that have bravely hung on through the entire winter, continuing to give us wonderful posts to brighten the dreary days: EcoVelo, Let's Go Ride a Bike, Riding Pretty, Cycling is Good for You, Portlandize, Suburban Bike Mama, and Biking in Heels, just to name a few.

Funny face, I love you!

This has to be one of my favorites (it's been cropped and enlarged to show their expressions). On the back is written: "Grandma with Phyllis Phend & Francis Palmer. They each weigh 20 pounds & my arms are nearly broke." The "Grandma" in the picture is my 2nd great grandmother Malissa Joslin Brubaker Bower and she would have been about 74 years old at the time, which I estimate to be the summer of 1923.

August 1972 at the San Diego Zoo. My brother, Jack, got tired of me taking his picture. Just as I was about to snap one more, he decided to hide behind the booklet he was reading. I like how his ear and hairline blend in with the picture of the monkey (or baboon or whatever it is). Of course, this could be one of those instances where it is only funny if you were there ;-) but we always get a good chuckle out of it. And there are other good memories that go along with it too. We were both in the Navy, he was stationed on the West coast and I was on the East (at Bainbridge, Maryland). We both took leave and met at home in Indiana then he and I drove back to San Diego together. We were young, we had fun.

Contributed to the 6th Edition of Smile For The Camera :: Show us that picture that never fails to bring a smile to your face! An amusing incident, a funny face, an unusual situation. Choose a photograph of an ancestor, relative, yourself, or an orphan photograph that tickles your Funny Bone. . .

Temperature Regulation and Underlayers

From a reader's email, quoted with permission:

...not sure how to put this delicately, but when I ride my bike in the cold I inevitably end up with a sweaty bra. Even if I am not exerting myself, the bra is soaking wet by the time I get to work and The Girls are not happy spending an entire morning waiting for it to dry. I've taken to stuffing paper towels in there, but was hoping you could share a better solution. How do you deal with this? Don't tell me you only wear wool bras?

Now approaching my third winter of cycling, one of the most valuable lessons I've learned is how to dress for the cold weather. Merely piling on layers can lead to overheating, then freezing underneath the sweat-soaked clothing when stopped at red lights. This is where choice of fabric becomes important. Wool and silk not only keep me warm, but regulate my body temperature - meaning that I sweat lessunderneath all those layers of warmth than I do wearing cotton or synthetic fabrics. And compared to technical synthetics, wool and silk do not retain body odor.




When choosing temperature-regulating fabrics, the key to the whole system working for me is to start from the inside out. If I am wearing a wool sweater with a cotton long-sleeve tee underneath, that cotton is going to be drenched in sweat; it's better to wear a wool baselayer and a non-wool garment on top of that. Similarly, underwear matters a great deal, since it is the first thing to contact the skin. Cotton or polyester underwear will end up soaked in sweat, causing discomfort even if every single other article of clothing I am wearing is wool.




So yes: In response to the reader's question, I only wear bras made out of fabric that regulates my body temperature effectively, which for me means wool or silk. Wool is the more durable and somewhat more effective option. But wool bras tend to be plain and sporty looking, and not everyone likes that. Also, women with larger chests often report that these bras do not offer sufficient support. If you prefer a look and feel that is more lingiree than sportsbra, real silk bras are available with everything from decorative lace to underwire support and nylon stretch. After having tried a number of manufacturers, I have settled on Ibexfor wool underwear,and onWinter Silksfor some fairly inexpensive silk bras. I also like to wear Icebreakerleggings instead of stockings once it gets cold, and always Smartwoolsocks. There are other excellent options out there. But as long as it's wool or silk, there should be no need to stuff your bra with paper towels before cycling to work.

Good Morning

My morning glory flowers are now doing great. The tiny spots aren't camera problems but are pollen.

Looking In

Lee took this photo of me in the crack in the rock. You can see the other side where it ends.

Cycling Through the Neighborhood(s)

The small street where I live is positioned between two radically different neighborhoods on the Cambridge/Somerville line in the greater Boston area.

In one direction is an affluent Harvard neighborhood with brick sidewalks, historical mansions, romantic gardens, and overarching trees.

In the other direction is a stretch of concrete lined with multi-family houses with faded vinyl siding, shopping plazas, warehouses, and unfinished construction sites behind chain-link fences.

When we first moved here, it amazed me that two neighborhoods of such different character could border each other so crisply: There is no overlap, it is as if someone drew a line between them. Over time I got used to the divide and just accepted it as a given, but having begun cycling made me hyper-aware of it once again.

Cycling towards Harvard is relatively tranquil, with roads that are in reasonable shape and motorists who seem accustomed to bicycles. I would not go so far as to call it a "Disneyworld version" of a vehicular cycling experience, but close to it.

Cycling in the other direction, the roads are covered with pot-holes, the drivers are more aggressive and impatient, and traffic patterns are chaotic. Recently, Somerville has painted "sharrows" all over the major roads and this has helped a bit with the driver aggression. A bit.

When I first began cycling, I dealt with this by staying away from Somerville and only going to destinations that could be accessed via the calmer Cambridge route. But in the long run, this was not a reasonable solution. So I started to get myself used to the area by cycling with the Co-Habitant. Gradually, the anxiety of it began to subside. And then, one morning I got on my bike and rode on my own to a hardware store that is in the very thicket of the area that used to intimidate me. It suddenly felt fine.

I know that there are many, many people who cycle through Somerville constantly and probably find my comments here ridiculous / pathetic, but so be it - cycling there used to honestly give me anxiety attacks. No more though. In some ways it is up to the person to make the area where they live accessible to themselves.

Side by Side

My last ride of was with the delightful Bekka ofBikeyface, who is slowly but surely getting drawn into roadcycling (eeexcellent). We've been practicing our "epic" faces, as you can see.

We had some things to talk about, so we decided to "go for coffee" - a 20 mile ride to the Ride Studio Cafe and back.

Once there, we nearly took the rack down with 60lb of collective bike poundage, but never mind!

The weird thing about riding with Bekka, is that her bicycle - a Surly Cross-Check - is the same make and model as the Co-Habitant's bike - only about half the size and built up very differently. The smaller sized Cross-Check frames have sloping top tubes and different seat tube angles(75° on the 42cm frame vs 72° on the 62mm frame), so altogether her bicycle registers as sort of the same bike as his, but not really. Freaky. And it also goes to show that when reading bicycle reviews and test ride reports, it's worth paying attention to the size of the bike described - this factor can make a difference. But despite the blatant differences in frames, both Bekka and the Co-Habitant are quite happy with theirs, so it seems fair to conclude that the Cross-Check is a crowdpleaser.



With Bekka on the Surlyand me on the Rivendell, we were pretty well matched for speed, which was nice. It was a quiet morning just before New Year and we were able to ride side by side some of the time.I used to be vehemently against cycling side by side on the road - especially in the city - because I felt that this distracted me from paying attention to traffic. Now I am less vehement about it, simply because I've ridden with people who cycle side by side as a matter of course and have learned to adapt. Still, I seldom have a good feeling about it. While in Massachusetts it is legal to ride two abreast, one could argue that doing so is not always practicable, and therefore not in good faith. It has also been known to provoke driver aggression. The local cyclists I've been riding with are split on this one, with some groups prohibiting riding two abreast and others insisting on it, so I am getting some rather mixed messages. I'd like to decide on a policy and stick with it without being influenced by the people I am riding with, but haven't made up my mind yet.



Switching from "lone wolf" cycling to riding with others has caused a rather dramatic upheaval in my little world.I had tried the social cycling thing before and did not enjoy it, but somehow this time around it clicked. Suddenly I have a full "dance card" of cycling events every week, and in the winter at that. Not that I am complaining! But this is definitely a new era, and I am curious what the future will bring.