"Strength in Unity"

Not exactly sure who this guy is.

His mates say his name is Jimmy. But there seemed to be someuncertainty.

They reckon he is about 20. Again, not sure.

They say he remembers to bring his guitar to the crag but forgets his harness and shoes. It all sounds pretty vague.

Style:Jimmyscreams socialistchic and solidarity inlast seasons "Enterprise Bargain Agreement" T-Shirt in black with yellow ".Your Pay - Your Call" print by the always hip Aussie label, Australian Workers Union.

Did you get a good look at me Jimmy? Spooky huh?



The movethat started it all.Nine routes fan out from thisbeginning.



Jimmy put down the guitar long enough to switch on and send Spoonman.



Then back to guitar for songs of workers struggles and sendage celebrations.





It never hurts to have a stab at something hard at the end of the day.











Seminole Canyon :: Revisited

Wednesday, February 27th - - If you are going to Big Bend, and I was, the last "large" town is about six hours away - Del Rio, Texas is the place you want to stock up on supplies and fill up the gas tank! Del Rio is the home of the Amistad National Recreation Area with a large reservoir that was startlingly low compared to the last time I came through the area, three years ago. There are a few little towns and ranches west along highway 90 but once you get through Del Rio, it appears barren and desolate. Actually, it was pretty much the same from Junction to Del Rio!



About 60 miles west of Del Rio is Seminole Canyon State Park, near Comstock, where I spent the night, as I had done nearly three years ago on February 19th and February 20th.







Private property borders the park and the two are separated by a rather flimsy fence that extends for miles. In-between the metal posts were these "stick" posts that helped support the sagging fence.








The posts were connected very loosely to the fencing with twisted strips of wire.





It wasn't a "spectacular" sunset, but 'twas very nice.





There was more color, and clouds, in northwestern sky.

Equines

Letting the ponies change pens so they can play.

Understanding Hills

Like Eskimos are said to have many words for snow, it seems to me that cyclists ought to have many words for hills. After all, what does it really mean when terrain is described as "hilly?" There are the short city hills that only seem like hills when I ride my upright 3-speed, there are the long and annoying false flats, the rollers, the twisty hills, the mountain passes.My perception of hills also changes over time. Rides I considered hilly a year ago, I now think of as "mostly flat," in light of some other hills I've ridden. And then I get annoyed at myself, because I remember when others described those rides as "mostly flat" and I felt bad, because to me they certainly seemed hilly. Hills are a fluid concept.





The more hills I ride, the more I realise that steepness and duration alone are not what makes them easy or difficult for me. More than anything, the pattern of grade change can make all the difference between enjoying the challenge of the climb and hating it. On a hill with a consistent grade, I can "settle into" the climb, whereas a hill with erratic grade changes drains my energy much faster. In the picture here I am standing atop of a relatively mild, but much despised hill after just having climbed it. It's hard to explain why I hate this stretch of incline so much, but it messes with my head. Starting immediately after a traffic light near the center of Lexington, it initially acts like a normal hill and as I near the top, I feel a sense of accomplishment: almost made it. But just as I reach what appears to be the crest of it - and this gets me every time - not only does it continue, but suddenly it becomes steeper. That last stretch, usually with my gearing already maxed out, just always manages to drain my morale. By comparison, the nearby Page Hill is a more significant climb. But I find it easier to handle, because the grade transitions it goes though somehow feel more logical.



Lat week I got a new computer and it has this feature that shows the grade percentage. This little toy has made me ridiculously excited and I am finally getting a sense for what different grades feel like. It also allows me to quantify my suffering. A climb starts to feel effortful at 6%, difficult at 10% and when I got the "Mommy can I go home now?" feeling I glanced down to see 14%. I was also surprised to learn that the "flat" Minuteman Trail reaches a 4% grade in a couple of the false flat stretches. Are you falling asleep yet at this fascinating information?



I am told that lots of cyclists start out hating hills, but then grow to enjoy them more and more. It could be that I am in that category... how else could I enjoy making a game of guessing the grade?

Muddy Creek

Jemez Creek looked very muddy yesterday when we took a drive up to the Jemez Mountains. There have been several good rains there and the dry conditions have probably caused a lot of very dry dirt to run into the creek.

Food for thought, thought for food

I love living in a part of the country where people know how to live off the land and sea.

At low tide today, I watched these men pull their seining net through Ellis Creek, catching blue crabs and fish. They made it look so effortless and were able to work the net without saying a word to each other.

After dragging the net for a while, they would walk it up onto an exposed bank and collect the desirable crabs and fish from the net.

I've touched on the subject of self-sustainability before and it is a topic that I think about a lot. There is a gap between the farmer and the consumer- so much so that if you were to ask a young child where grapes or corn or peaches came from, they would probably answer "the grocery store". I enjoy the endless options of produce, bakery items, wines and other items that are at my fingertips and I would rather live in a time of feast rather than famine. But regardless of the cornucopia available at the market, I think it's wise to have the ability to be able to harvest a portion of your food- even if it's just a window box of herbs.

Gardening, fishing, seining, hunting....these activities keep us connected with the earth and with ourselves. There is a reason that it is a compliment to refer to someone as "grounded".

Sunset Amphitheater

The Headwall Couloir...

A team of five climbers made a strong attempt on this remote and difficult route a few weeks ago. Here are a few images from one member's website; I'll attempt to sumarize the trip. They decided not to post a report, but did share a few details with me.

The team first noticed that a major section of the Tahoma Creek Trail was destroyed below the suspension bridge/Wonderland Trail. Last fall, glacier outbursts from a heavy rain storm took out some of the westside road and Tahoma Creek Trail. The trail washout, in particular, was rather amazing. The original trail abruptly disappears into a creek bed of gravel, rock and boulders. What was once an old growth forest, moss, downed trees, dense vegatation, is now a creek bed with gigantic trees. The forest floor is buried. In all, about 1/2 mile of the trail is wiped out.

As for the climbing route... The team reported a few problem, the first significant one being a dropped set of tent poles. This would make things difficult later on. Also, and maybe more importantly, they selected a route up St. Andrews Rock that cost them a day of travel... This exposure left them more vulnerable to the changing weather. And that's what happened, wind, snow, /12 a tent, and a snow shelter... It made for an interesting night.

After losing the effectiveness of one tent, and a day of travel, the team reluctantly retreated with plans of returning. Despite not summiting, they felt the route was a go! Here is a closer picture of the Amphitheater and upper Puyallup Glacier.

For more information, see: a listing of climbs here. These photos are courtesy of Alexandre Mineev

Wild Aster

this wild aster came up right next to my horse trailer which I almost never use. It got no care and only watered when it rained which wasn't at all until recently. But it grew, and bloomed even with out any water. Wish all flowers were this tough.

Valley of the Gods

What a strange day! When I left the motel this morning I immediately noticed this strange sort of haze throughout the entire sky, which at first made me think of a forest fire. Then I realized that it was dust being kicked up into the atmosphere. It was incredibly windy all day, and all day these surreal skies kept me company. As the day neared its end the sky took on an even more eerie glow. Eventually as I approached Moab, Utah it started to snow a bit which seemed to knock the dust out of the sky. By the time I arrived in Moab the sky had partially cleared, and the strange haze was almost entirely gone.



These first few images were taken along the highway between Blanding, Utah and Moab.



Below: The dust storm at Goosenecks State Park, Utah. Goosenecks State Park features a series of bends in the San Juan River. I couldn't even see the bends in their entirety because of all the dust in the air.

Above and below: The dust storm in Valley of the Gods, Utah. Valley of the Gods is similar to Monument Valley, although on a less "grand" scale. It is a gem of an area, however, and if you are passing through on your way to Blanding from Monument Valley, its worth checking out.

(Above: Dusk in the Valley of the Gods)

(Below: Goosenecks State Park again, taken the night before the dust storm.)

Slight Jaunt South on the Richardson...

When I woke up early Saturday morning (August 21st) it was cold and foggy. Probably the coldest it has been any morning since being in Alaska. The fog was pretty thick but thankfully it wasn't at ground level. It seemed to be hovering about 15 feet above the ground.

From Glennallen, I headed south on the Richardson Highway (Route 4) towards Valdez. There really wasn't anything I wanted to see or do in Valdez but the Worthington Glacier was on the Richardson (85 miles south of Glennallen and about 30 miles north of Valdez) in the Chugach Mountains near Thompson Pass, which happens to be the snowiest place in Alaska. Besides, it was supposed to be a pretty drive. And it would have been except for the fog and the clouds.

You can see a little patch of blue coming through the clouds, promises of things to come. This is the Worthington Glacier, taken a few minutes before 9 o'clock. I don't know its dimensions. Lets just say that it's big!



The trail up to the top of glacier (a mile long with a 1200 foot elevation gain) was “officially” closed and warning signs were posted regarding the instability of the glacier and the area surrounding it. However, I saw several people scrambling over the rocks and hiking out to it, though they only went to the face of the glacier, not to the top. Two people can be seen in this photo, above and to the right of the trees. (Double-click on the photo to see a larger version.) If you are interested, in July .. several guys hiked to the top of the glacier. They have posted an entry with lots of neat photos at Natural Born Hikers.

If you look real close, you can see that two people are standing at the bottom edge of the glacier, in the center of the picture. Really.

Cropped and enlarged version of the previous photograph. Can you see them now?
To the north and west, the skies were trying to clear. The little lake was formed when the glacier retreated. The drive back to Glennallen in the afternoon more than made up for the dreariness of the morning. Although clouds filled the sky, there was also plenty of sunshine!




The mountains are part of the enormous Wrangell-St. Elias National Park and Preserve.
This last shot was taken when I drove east for a few miles on Alaska Route 10 (Edgerton Highway), which goes to the town of Chitina, 34 miles away. The unpaved McCarthy Road begins at Chitina and ends in 60 miles at the Kennicott River. It's another half mile to McCarthy and five miles further to the town of Kennicott. (Visitors cross the Kennicott River on a footbridge, then walk or take a shuttle to McCarthy and Kennicott.)

“The Milepost” states that the McCarthy Road is recommended for those who like adventurous driving. Motorists should watch for sharp rocks, railroad spikes, no shoulders, narrow sections, soft spots, washboard, potholes and roller-coaster curves. You might think that railroad spikes would be an odd thing to have to be on the lookout for but the McCarthy Road was built on a railroad right of way after the railroad was torn up. You may also think that I'm adventurous, but foolish I'm not and I didn't even attempt to go down McCarthy Road.

The towns of Chitina, McCarthy, and Kennicott are the gateways to the Wrangell-St. Elias National Park and Preserve, which in reality, isn't accessible to the average person. It is wilderness in the truest sense and a haven for experienced backpackers and mountaineers.

Back on the Richardson Highway I stopped at the Visitor Center a few miles south of Glennallen and watched a 22 minute film. That is the only way that I and most people will ever be able to “visit” the park. It looks incredibly beautiful. Wrangell-St. Elias National Park and Preserve is the largest unit of the national park system encompassing nearly 24 million acres. It contains the greatest collection of peaks over 16,000 feet as well as the largest concentration of glaciers on the continent. It is also the reason why it is an almost 600 mile drive from Glennallen to Haines!

Homer is at the end of the Kenai Peninsula in the lower left. Haines is in the lower right corner, a driving distance of approximately 900 miles. The route from Valdez to Haines more or less follows the perimeter of the Wrangell-St. Elias National Park. Skagway is only 15 miles from Haines via ferry but is 300 miles via the highway! The yellow-highlighted routes are the roads that I've traveled thus far. (On the day this post was scheduled – August 24th - I was in Haines.)

I stopped for the night at Tok, which is at the junction of the Alaska Highway, in the middle of the map and 90 miles from the Canadian border.