Jetty Park

Today is the first day of the rally but we arrived a day early, so we had a bit of time to explore before the official start of the rally. We explored the pier and the beach and both were really nice.



There were so many dead fish floating in the water, which felt very sad to us. It was similar to seeing so many trees on the ground after the hurricanes.







There were still plenty of people out, despite the cold weather and dead fish.





Beautiful, isn't it?



Living the life in beautiful Florida!

Flower Vase

I don't know anything about this flower vase that mother had except that it says 'handpainted in Japan' on the bottom

Second Life: on Cycling and Aging

Reading On My Own Two Wheels by Malachi O'Doherty*, I am transported from the North Shore of Massachusetts back to the Antrim coast of Northern Ireland, where I spent some weeks on my bike this past Spring. The Belfast-based author describes many of the same roads I traveled on - the same challenging hills, treacherous weather and glorious scenery - making me long to return there even more than I do already.




But the main theme of the book - whose subtitle is Back in the Saddle at 60 - is that of the author's return to cycling after an absence of three decades, and of the relationship between cycling and aging. Overweight and diagnosed with diabetes at 60, Malachi O'Doherty turned to what had been a favourite pastime of his youth in attempts to regain his health and energy. What follows is a complex and engaging personal account that is part memoir, and part commentary on what it is like to ride again as a changed man in a changed world. It is no longer the 1980s and the author is no longer in his 30s. Confronted with a new breed of bicycles, high-traffic roads, newfangled cycling infrastructure, and a society where cycling is far from a normative behaviour, the author finds himself in a state that is a mixture of wonderment, disappointment, frustration, and delight.




On My Own Two Wheels is a personal narrative. It makes no generalisations, gives no advice, offers up no lessons to the reader. But I suspect the experiences described will be widely relatable. I would estimate that as many as a quarter of this blog's readers are middle aged men and women who had cycled in their youth and have recently gotten back into it, or are attempting to do so. I have met many such cyclists riding for transportation in Boston, and more recently at randonneuring and club ride events. I recall reading that the average age of a Paris-Brest-Paris participant is in their 50s.




There are some specifics in Malachi O'Doherty's story that I find intriguing. One is the way he faces changes that have taken place in the bicycle industry during his time off the bike. Of those who return to riding after decades of absence, many gravitate toward the type of bike that had been popular in their youth - seeking out vintage or classic machines, even taking pains to refurbish them with period-correct components. Some want to ride an exact replica of the bicycle they raced or toured on in their 20s or 30s. Others purchase the kind of bike they had dreamed of, but could never afford back in the day. But the author falls into the category that prefers a clean start and turns to contemporary industry standards. He went to a bike shop, asked for advice, and purchased a modern touring bike - fitted with brifters and clipless pedals in leu of the downtube shifters and toe clips he had used three decades earlier. The new aluminium bike is a size smaller than the steel bike of his youth. It handles differently. Far from feeling at home on the alien machine, O'Doherty nonetheless accepts the new technology and the challenges it presents. I get the sense that for him this is part of the deal: As fondly and nostalgically as he recalls the spirited rides and long touring trips of his 30s, reliving the past is not what he is after; he intends to start a new chapter.




Another choice the author makes early on is to stay away from the racing and club cycling cultures - or any particular bicycle culture, for that matter. He describes his preferred riding style as "tootling," or simply wandering around by bike. And yet, he notices contradictions in himself - competitive impulses and cravings for speed that seem to come out of nowhere and undermine (or enhance? it's not always clear) his experience of the two-wheeled journey. He relates these paradoxes in cycling to paradoxes in life. Perhaps cycling offers a means of understanding himself better.




At the time of writing this post I am 33 years old. What draws a person to the bicycle at the age of 50, 60, 70 and beyond I can only speculate. Some are motivated by health and fitness-related concerns. Others take it up as a hobby after retirement. For others still it seems to be a matter of nostalgia. But regardless of the motive, a not uncommon result is that cycling becomes more than just an interest, but a way of life. A "second life," as one local cyclist in his 70s put it, throwing a slender muscular leg over the top tube of his racing bike and giving me a meaningful wink: "I am in better shape now than I was thirty years ago and my mind is sharper." I believe him. Riding with some exceptionally strong cyclists in their 60s and 70s has made me look forward to that age in a way I hadn't done before. I'd like to be like them when I grow up.




----

*Malachi O'Doherty is an online acquaintance, and I am a great fan of his political books and commentary. A reviewer's copy of On My Own Two Wheels was sent to me by the publisher.

Happy New Year from White Sands, New Mexico!

Above left: New Year's Eve moonrise. Above Right: My friend Roger photographing the dunes under the New Year's Eve full moon.

Well, my trip is nearly over... almost 6 weeks ago I left Grand Portage on a quest to explore the West, focusing mostly on the Pacific coastal areas of Washington and Oregon. Its been a great trip, but some of the best experiences were at the end of the trip! My friend Roger and I arrived at White Sands National Monument in New Mexico the afternoon of December 31, . We were planning on camping overnight in the dunes and arrived at the park just in time to get our orientation and register for our campsite before the daily deadline. After we registered, we had just enough time to scope out a place to shoot sunset and the moonrise. Watching the moon come up over the white sand dunes was incredible.



Above: Our campsite. We placed our headlamps inside the tent to illuminate it for this shot.

After shooting the sunset and the moonrise we decided to set up camp before doing some moonlight shooting. Our campsite was about a mile from the parking area and after finally locating our site (which was a little difficult to find, since the trail markers through the dunes are VERY difficult to locate in the moonlight!), we set out for a few hours of moonlight shooting.



Above: Our campsite, nestled against a dune with the San Andres Mountains in the background.

White Sands is an awesome landscape during the day, but switch to night and throw in the light from a full moon and its downright magical! We had a blast hiking around the dunes and taking pictures. It was a lovely night, the air was crisp but not too cold and there wasn't a lick of wind. Its pretty amazing when its so still and you can't hear anything except for your own breathing. Thule (Roger's dog) even seemed to really enjoy the night as he was friskier than usual, running laps around us and jumping up and down.



Above and below: Roger photographing the White Sands landscape.



Below: A wider view of our campsite amongst the dunes. This view is looking south towards Mexico.



We were out shooting until about 1:30 a.m., so we rang in the new year while walking around on the dunes :-) We settled into our sleeping bags, hoping to get at least 5 hours of sleep before sunrise.



My alarm woke me at 6:30, and when I crawled out of the tent I noticed right away that it was much colder than it was when we went to sleep. In fact, our tent was even covered in a thin layer of frost! I don't know what the temperature actually was, but it felt like it was in the mid 20's. As I crawled out of the tent I turned my eyes skyward and the first thing I saw was the full moon just above the dunes directly out in front of the tent. What a sight to wake up to! I quickly forgot about how cold I was and went back into the tent to wake Roger and retrieve my camera gear.



As the sun got closer and closer to breaking the horizon, the sky to the West took on this amazing pink glow. The pink sky with the moon and the white sand made a view that was to die for. Definitely one of the prettiest New Year's Day mornings I have ever seen!

Tombstone Tuesday :: Jack and Fredona Wiseman

My father and his third wife are buried at Salem Cemetery in Washington Township, Noble County, Indiana. Jack William Wiseman was the son of Charles and Elsie (Shuder) Wiseman. Fredona was the daughter of Abie and Vera (Surfus) Stump.

WISEMAN
JACK W. / JAN 29, 1924 / DEC. 18, 1995
FREDONA M. / SEPT. 28, 1925 / JAN. 23, ..

Photo Copyright © .. by Rebeckah R. Wiseman (taken August 16, ..)

Still a Lot of Lands to See...

I have been afraid to write about this, because then it would become real... But this morning I've been listening to Joni Mitchell for inspiration, determined to finally do it. So here it is: in the end of March I am going to Death Valley in California for a bit of bicycle riding. Chris Kostman of AdventureCORPS has invited me to a couple of events that he organises: a century ride called the Hell's Gate Hundred, preceded by 5 days of cycling, hiking and yoga that is known asCORPSCamp.




I have never been to Death Valley, or to California before. And these events will be like nothing I've ever done previously. I will probably fail at them terribly, but I want to try anyway. The reason goes back to my trip to Interbike in Las Vegas last September.






I met many interesting people at Interbike. Some were sponsors with whom I've hitherto only had email contact, and Chris Kostman was among them. Describing Chris is a challenge, because "on paper" I knew of him as an athlete (the youngest to complete the Race Across America at age 20, he finished 9th). But when we met in person it was so removed from that, that I had a difficult time even picturing him on a bike. In fact I'd wanted to photograph and write about him back in September, but all the pictures came out looking like a GAP commercial, it was no good! An endurance cyclist since his teenage years, for decades Chris has been racing and competing in endurance events, and was even part of Team Bridgestone in the early '90s. Somewhere down the line he founded AdventureCORPS and now organises well known "ultra-cycling" events such as theFurnace Creek 508, as well as various century and double-century rides and cycling camps.




Reading about these things, as well as Chris's many articles on training and nutrition, one gets the sense that this is a person who lives and breathes sport and spends most of his waking hours training. I was almost nervous to meet him. Would he make me do push-ups as we chatted? Turns out we had a lot to talk about. Chris is alarmingly intelligent, and one of those people who is interested in everything - soaking up knowledge like a sponge and sharing it freely with others. Since I started roadcycling, he has given me valuable advice and has opened up my mind about the place cycling can have in my life.He also sparked my interest in the desert landscape.





Interbike was overwhelmingly hectic, and after taking pictures of bicycles non-stop as I walked around the huge showrooms for hours,I was exhausted. Still, when Chris offered to show me Red Rock Canyon outside Las Vegas on my last day there, I dragged myself out of bed early and, with a migraine and eyes half closed, grabbed my camera bag and made it into his time-traveling car. The only desert I'd seen before had been in the Middle East, and my memories of it were not fond. I expected a version of the same here. As we drove to Red Rock I mostly wanted to get it over with just as a "there, I've seen it" sort of thing.





But my experience proved to be different. I am a very visual person, and normally it is the way a place looks that influences me the most. And Red Rock was certainly striking, with its striped mountains and fields of rocks, cacti and unusual grasses. But that is not what I remember the most, and it's not what got to me. My strongest memory of the place has to do with how the air felt and smelled. It was so weird, I am not sure how to describe it. We got out of the car and immediately I walked 5 steps into the desert and just stood there. It wasn't hot. Or maybe it was, but I didn't notice. The air had a dewy quality to it that was not only unexpected, but nothing like the dewy morning air I am used to in Northern climates. There was a scent to it, too. Very faint and I bet the people who live there no longer notice it, but for me it was new. I think the scent was coming from all the weird little plants, and the overall effect was kind of melony - lightly sweet and refreshing.






Within 5 minutes my headache went away and I no longer felt tired or sleepy. In fact I felt like going on a very long hike or bike ride. This change in energy levels and sense of well-being was so quick and dramatic that it was as if I'd gotten an injection. Crazy. There wasn't much time before I had to get back to Las Vegas, but I walked around taking pictures for as long as I could, for the first time regretting that I could not stay and explore the area longer.





We saw some cyclists in the desert, and I was envious. Riding in that fresh dewy air with the cactus scents and the stripey mountains looming in the distance must be nice. And that is when Chris remarked casually that I should take part in one of the rides he organises - in response to which I, of course, laughed, since it seemed wildly unrealistic. But by the time December rolled around, I'd been cycling like crazy and it changed to seeming only moderately unrealistic. When AdventureCORPS and the Furnace Creek Ranch officially invited me to the March events in Death Valley, I decided to go.





To save myself future embarrassment I've been trying to be non-comittal about classifying myself as a participant vs a photographer/support person. Chris assures me I'll be fine doing the rides, but he must think I am being modest in describing what a poor cyclist I am. Still, I've now registered on BikeReg and everything is settled, so it looks like it's happening.Soma Fabricationswill be loaning me a Smoothie roadbike to test ride while I am in California, which I am excited about as well.



Physically I'm not ready for the Hell's Gate Hundred and the 5 days of cycling that is CORPSCamp. But I keep from hyperventilating by telling myself there isn't really any pressure on me to finish all the rides, and that I can do as little or as much as I feel comfortable with. It will be both scary and interesting to find out how much that is. And of course, I will get to see California. I am nervous and looking forward to it all in equal measure.

In Praise of the Saddle Wedge

The majority of my road rides are around 100 km or less, and done in stable weather conditions. On rides like these I want to keep the bike light, but still carry the essentials - such as a multi-tool, spare tube, band-aids, and an extra snack. My mini-pump is attached to the bottle cage, and anything else I prefer to store in my jersey pockets. This is why I love the basic saddle wedge. Also called a seat pack, this style of bicycle bag attaches to a saddle's rails and does not require bag loops. It is small enough to sit underneath the saddle without any part of it sticking out beyond the saddle's profile. And for those times when you want to attach a full-sized saddlebag, the wedge is quick and easy enough to remove.



My ideal saddle wedge is just large enough to fit the essentials. It is lightweight, easy to open and close, and attaches securely. I also like it when the bag has a loop in the back for a tail light attachment. There are lots of options for this type of bag. Here are the three I use on my bikes.





On my main roadbike I've been using a Jandd Hurricane Mini Mountain Wedge for the past year. As far as this style of bag goes it is on the larger size, but still very compact and light. Dimensions are 6x10x20cm, volume is 2L and weight is 104g. Made of vinyl-lined cordura, this bag is water and abrasion-resistant. Price is $26.95.





There are several features I really like about the Hurricane. For something this small, it sure fits a lot. In addition to the essentials listed earlier, I can usually stuff small tubes of chamois cream, sun screen, and even an article of clothing inside the main compartment. There is also a second compartment - a shallow pocket on the underside of the bag - for keeping money, ID, a brevet card, or similar. The reflective strip in the rear doubles as a tail light loop.





The Jandd Hurricane attaches with an adjustable strap that threads over the saddle rails, then closes with a side-squeeze buckle on the bottom, threading through a lash tab on the underside of the bag. This makes for a very secure attachment system, especially compared to some bags that use only small strips of velcro. A secondary, velcro attachment point wraps around the seatpost. TheJandd Mini-Mountain wedge is available in several versions and lots of colours, as well as in leather, suede and waxed cotton (though the latter will increase the weight of the bag and reduce its waterproofness).





On my dirt road/ camera bike I carry the Cargo Wedge by Inertia Designsas a supplement to my handlebar bag.This is a smaller style of wedge, with a pyramid-like shape to reduce its width. Dimensions (measured at widest parts) are 10x10x14cm, volume is .7L, weight is 70g. Made cordura lined with truck tarp, the bag is water and abrasion-resistant. The bag is US-made.Lots of colours available. Price for the version I have (embroidered with Harris Cyclery's logo) is $21.95.





The cargo wedge has a single compartment with a surround zipper. It attaches via two straps that thread through the saddle rails, then velcro to the side of the bag. The velcro surface is sufficiently long to keep the bag secure. A second loop goes around the seatpost. A reflective strip in the rear incorporates a tail light attachment. The tail light shot should give you an idea of how narrow this bag is.





Smaller still is the Soma Noe Road Wedge, which I typically affix to demo bikes that I test ride or have on loan for review. Soma does make larger saddle wedges, but the "narrow aero" Noe is truly minuscule and will fit just the essentials. Dimensions (measured at widest parts)are 15x9x4cm. Volume and weight are not stated. Made out of a hemp and cotton blend fabric with a waterproof coating, it is water resistant. Available in black and khaki, as well as in an all-reflective fabric. Price for the standard version is $12.99.





The Noe is so narrow that it can literally be wedged in between the saddle rails. Attachment via two velcro straps threaded through the rails, with plenty of adhesive surface, and secondary loop around the seatpost. Single compartment with surround-zipper. A reflective strip in the rear incorporates a tail light attachment. Note that the space for the tail light clip is a little tight here; mine squeezes in just barely.



If you browse through the saddle wedges offered by different companies, you will notice a pattern to their shapes, sizes, closure systems and other features. Some are flat, others pyramid-like. Some use buckle attachments, others velcro. A good way to determine which works best for you is to visit a bike shop that stocks different models and buy the bag there. Also talk to riders who have used specific bags for a while and in different weather conditions. After destroying the Fizik wedge I initially had on my roadbike, I was steered toward the Jandd by a local rider, which has since endured heavy use and bad weather without a mark on it.



When you don't want to carry a lot on your bike, the saddle wedge is a great little bag that keeps things simple and functional.