Cuties

Recovering nicely from their operations.

Ginger (L) is the boy and George is the girl. Clearly, sexing kittens is not among our talents. They laugh at us at the vet's office.

"Ginger Baker!" I want to yell. "George Sand! Rebel cats who'll never conform to your archaic provincial notions of gender roles!"

Anyway, now they are both "fixed".

Looks like I'll be really busy between now and Christmas, filling soap orders. My dreams are filled with boxes and tape. Visions of shrinkwrap, bubble fill and packing peanuts dance in my head.

It doesn't feel normal, not having the time to write here or to visit other blogs. I miss being able to record the small things. It's been dry... it rained... but not enough... the swamp area is almost completely drained... there were four huge male turkeys in the backyard... I snuck out of the craft show to see part of the Veteran's Day parade and was surprised to become so emotional... Mom's been here, helping me wrap soap. See you later.

Chilkoot River Bears

Caution... lots of photos...
Tuesday, August 24th - - I had noticed this sign yesterday on my way to the campground at Chilkoot Lake but didn't give it much thought. But this morning when I was leaving the campground, I noticed a bunch of cars pulled off along the road and people milling about with long telephoto lenses on their cameras. I stopped the car, grabbed my little point-and-shoot camera and walked over to see what they were looking at... these bears were outside the bear zone! Guess they don't know how to read ;-)

There was Mama bear and her cubs (could be the same ones that Sue and Fred saw a couple of days ago). There were three cubs, they just never all got together for a group photo...





Look at those claws! And it's just a baby...




This evening, as I was going back to the campground, there were some scattered rain showers and I was greeted by a double rainbow! To the east, the direction in which I was going, the sky darkened and it poured down rain.

Meanwhile, over to the west, the sun was shining. Ya gotta love it. Continuing on toward the campground, I noticed movement off to the side of the road, and then, what did appear before my eyes?
Why, Mama bear and her three little cubs! By the time I had grabbed the camera and turned it on, Mama was already across the road. (I was safely inside the van as they were way too close for comfort. This photo was taken through the windshield.)

Half an hour later, I left the gloomy campground (it is heavily forested and not much light gets through the trees, especially when it is cloudy) and went back into Haines for a while.

On my way, people were gathered in one area alongside the road so I stopped... Mama bear was there and at least two cubs. They were further away than those this morning and the cubs stayed close to the bank, hidden by the weeds and brush.


It was so neat seeing them like this, in their natural habitat. They went about their business, generally ignoring us humans, though they did check us out now and then.

Acadia :: Schoodic Point

Sunday, September 16th - -On the eastern side of Mount Desert Island in Acadia National Park is a popular little inlet known as Thunder Hole. A small cavern below the surface of the water creates a sound similar to thunder when the 'right' waves crash against the rocks. The day that we stopped by to see Thunder Hole, there was no action - the sea was rather calm and the waves were merely lapping the shore.



However, I found a spot out on Schoodic Point that was just as exciting as Thunder Hole. Maybe more so. And it was far less crowded. There wasn't quite the roar of thunder but there were some pretty loud crashes when the 'big ones' hit.






Much like the action of a tsunami, the water would pull away from the shore...





Gain momentum, and crash into the granite walls...





and momentarily fill up the little inlet.








I thought this man was more than a little irresponsible to let his son get so close to the edge. One really big wave and he could have been swept over the edge.





I moved around toward where the man and boy had been, but a little further away from the edge.





Thanks to the capabilities of zoom lenses, I grabbed this shot of a wave smashing into the side of the cliff. It was awesome. And so much fun watching these waves...

Brevet Season

Over the weekend, local bike shop and cycling club Ride Studio Cafe hosted a group ride followed by a Brevet Season Kick-Off Party that lasted well into the night. Organised by the RSC and cycling legends The Blayleys, this event included food, drink, a bike show, and an information session about various aspects of randonneuring.





This event struck me as significant on a number of levels. It was a coming together of the worlds of road racing, randonneuring and casual cycling, which rarely happens in other communities. It also showed just how much local interest there is in randonneuring. The room was absolutely packed and by the time things got started it was almost impossible to move. No one expected such a turnout.






Though many beautiful and unusual bicycles were brought in for the bike show and contest, it was impossible to photograph them due to their sheer proximity to one another. Frames bearing the marks of Weigle, Vanilla, ANT, Rawland, Rivendell, Sketchy, Gunnar and Seven were a common sight, as were refurbished vintage mystery frames. The glitter of hammered fenders set the room aglow. Saddlebags swayed to the soft French music that played in the background. Map sleeves glistened. Leather saddles of at least 4 different makes flaunted their rivets and cut-outs.Light and heavy, racy and sedate, with integrated lighting and without, rando bikes filled the entire room and spilled outside. Waist-deep in a sea of lovely bikes, yet unable to photograph them... oh how I suffered! The winners of the bike contest were a stunningly crafted JP Weigle, a refurbished vintage Raleigh, and a customised Seven rando bike (this one).






Last year it took me a while to understand what randonneuring really was, and I suspect many readers might like to have it explained. French in origin, randonneuring is defined as a "noncompetitive, timed, endurance cycling sport." It involves riding in organised long distance events, with the goal to finish within a specific time frame. The rides are unsupported (no van with supplies and mechanical help to follow riders around) and take place regardless of weather conditions. Control points along the way ensure participants cover the entire route.




Official randonneuring events (aka randonnées) are sanctioned internationally by the Audax Club Parisien and in the US by Randonneurs USA. Our local organisation here in Boston isthe New England Randonneurs (NER).




The shortest type ofrandonnée (petiterandonnée?)is called the Populaire, and it is 100km - a metric century. But the prototypical randonnées are the brevets - rides 200km or longer. Local organisations will usually host a brevet series starting in spring, consisting of 200km, 300km, 400km and 600km rides spread out through the season. Hence, the Brevet Season.




Other types ofrandonnéesinclude the Flèche (a 24 hour team event, described very nicely here), and the so-called granderandonnées, the most famous of which is the 1200km Paris-Brest-Paris(for some time there was a local granderandonnéeBoston-Montreal-Boston, but sadly it appears to have been discontinued). The schedule for all the local randonnées this season is postedhere.






A number of well known local randonneurs attended the Brevet Kick-Off Party, and it was a pleasure to see them in person.






It was particularly excited to spot Emily O'Brien - a woman known for riding long distance on fixed gear, eating pickles, and making custom bicycle bags named after pickles.





I also finally met a few people whom I'd previously only corresponded with - including Cris C., who arrived on his well-loved ANT.





Presentations were given byMelinda Lyon of the New England Randonneurs, Pamela Blalock, andMatt Roy of MM Racing. Matt was at a disadvantage in that he went on last and it was already quite late. But I am so glad I stayed for his presentation, because he is an extremely engaging and charismatic speaker. At 10pm, Matt's talk made me want to immediately get up and ride a few hundred miles - whilst meticulously following his instructions of course.





While I find the idea of randonneuring exciting and romantic, I doubt that I can actually do it. The routes are hilly and challenging, and the people who do these things are extremely strong riders, no matter how much they might downplay it in conversation. Randonneurs tend to make a point of being inclusive and assuring others that "anyone can do it," and they honestly believe it. They also have a habit of describing rides in a way that makes it seem all about the scenery and camaraderie, conveniently leaving out the part about it being difficult! But in fact it is very difficult, and I am not a sufficiently strong cyclist at this stage. It is also a must that participants be able to fix their own mechanical problems, since there is no support. While I have the know-how, I cannot physically work on my bike and that presents a problem. Finally - and I hate to say this, but it's true - I am simply not committed enough. Though I ride a lot, I do it on my own time instead of planning my life around rides that take place on specific dates. When push comes to shove, personal things have priority and in the past it has been very difficult for me to commit to organised cycling events. For serious randonneurs, their lives basically revolve around the brevet season, as a great deal of commitment is required to both take part in and train for the events.



Some day I would like to take part in a brevet (or a flèche - those sound like so much fun!), and I certainly do not mean to discourage others from doing it. It's just that there has been such a tendency to romanticise randonneuring and to contrast it with racing, that the popular image of the activity does not, in my opinion, adequately reflect how challenging and demanding it actually is. It's good to go into something with realistic expectations.






As you can see, the Brevet Season Kick-Off Event has given me a lot to think about. More than anything, I am still overwhelmed by how significant it felt to be there. We could practically feel a new era dawning as more and more people filled the room (several of us mentioned that independently so I know it wasn't just my overactive imagination!). While it doesn't mean that the local population will now rush en masse to join the New England Randonneurs (though it's a great idea to support them), I do think it's indicative of a growing interest in a particular type of cycling: long rides on bikes that are fast yet practical, and without an overt competitive element. It's the kind of cycling I like best so far, and I appreciate that it is so well supported locally. More low-light pictures of the event here!

100 years ago

I was bitten by the genealogy bug.

I was also bitten by the 19th century fashion bug. More precisely, the bug pertaining to the period of fashion between 1840 and 1920. (The better to date old photos.)

The side effect is that I have become one of those people who wants to shout out historical inaccuracies in the middle of movies.

"They won an academy award for this?! Women didn't wear bustles in 1900!"

Or, "That sleeve wasn't invented until 1880!"

Even, "That dress has an 1840s bodice and a 1910 sleeve!"

And so on.

-----

The photo was taken in northwest Georgia, a little over 100 years ago. Judging from the baby's age and the plant growth: around September 1905. The two men in the middle (wearing bowties) are my ancestors three and four generations back. The older woman is my great-great-grandmother Martha, born in 1852. She's the daughter of Julia Ann of the broken heart.

The baby in this picture, Ennis, died in a Typhoid outbreak in July of 1921. A relative wrote:

"During the huckleberry season, about 9 people in our community had typhoid fever from drinking water from the stream in the mountain. Grace and I recovered." Seven others died.

My Mom told me that they normally started picking huckleberries on the 4th of July every year. Ennis died at one o'clock in the afternoon, on Sunday July 17th. He was 16 years old. (Antibiotic treatment for typhoid would not be available for another 27 years.)

I imagine his family had been frantic, calling two different doctors to see him. He had two death certificates, filled out by different doctors. The first began treating him on July 10th, and the second on July 13th.*

I love collecting stories about relatives from the past, but they are often so tragic.

The inscription on Ennis' tombstone reads, "Just in the morning of his day, In youth and love he died." This was apparently a fairly common saying to put on a young person's stone, and I wondered if it was from a poem.

I found in "Hymns for Christian Devotion" (copyright 1853!) one called "Death of a Scholar". It includes the lines,

Death has been here, and borne away
A brother from our side :
Just in the morning of his day,
As young as we he died.

I believe this was later changed in some churches, to this version I found listed from another tombstone:

Death has been here and born away
a brother from our side :
Just in the morning of his day,
In youth and love he died.

I also found "so fair and young he died" as an ending for this epitaph. It seemed to have been common to use just the last two lines.

-----

* A historian at the Georgia State Archives told me that she'd seen two death certificates for the same person before, but never from two different doctors.

Shop Door

I think this was the back door to a shop or might have been a privite residence behind the shop.

Greetings from Arizona!

Thursday, December 1st - - The drive through Las Vegas was mostly uneventful. There was some rain and considerable wind, with gusts up to 40 mph. I'm not a fan of Las Vegas so had no intentions of spending time there. I really just wanted to get south to where I thought it would be warmer. But you know Mother Nature! Always changing things... I spent the night at Cattail Cove State Park south of Lake Havasu City, Arizona. The winds had dropped considerably and the sun was trying to come out from behind the heavy layer of clouds. It was rather cool but at least it wasn't raining!



Friday, December 2nd - - It seems that the winds that came through on Wednesday night also brought cooler temperatures with them. Daytime highs hadn't made it into the 50s and the lows were well into the 30s. A check of the weather on the internet for several places indicated that it was about the same all over southern Arizona. So much for finding a warm place to stay!



I continued south and stopped at Picacho Peak State Park for the night. I had been there at least twice before in my travels through Arizona and knew that it was a nice spot. They had made improvements to the campgrounds and all sites now had electricity. I arrived just before sunset and the clouds had broken up a bit so I decided to go for a walk with camera in hand. And I'm glad that I did!

Henry Barber

I mentioned "HOT" Henry Barber last week. If Henry "climbed a little", I've never climbed at all.` Few personalities of the several generations I have been privileged to climb with have really impressed me. Henry was one of the few.



First time I met Henry was at OR several years ago. I had clearlyembarrassed Henrytelling him how much of a hero he had been to my own climbing back in the '70s. Two old gray hair guys standing in the middle of the ORshow floor and farther from climbing than ever before. But still climbing.



The rest of the world just in the way more these days.



But if didn't embarrass me admitting it. I felt like a teenager again recounting in my own head the things that Henry inspired in my own climbing. It was a very good time to be alive and so much to learn.





Rob Taylor in the Hemsedal Valley, Norway. 1977 Henry Barber photo. FA Vettisfossen 300m, WI5



Cool thing about Henry is he wasn't just a rock climber. He was an exceptional ice climber as well. By even today's standards. Much to Henry's climbing history. Tiny bit of it here.




More on Henry here:



http://enormocast.com/episode-39-henry-barber-enough-said/



http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Henry_Barber_(rock_climber)



Check out

http://enormocast.com

There are somegems there. Another find from OR.

Steven's Pass ..

Ken and I opted to use our free passes to Steven's Pass on the last Friday of operations. The weather wasn't forecast to be great, but we were going anyway. After all, you can't be a Pacific Northwest skier without skiing in the rain at least once a year.

The first ride up the chair was cloudy, but no precip. The second ride up involved rain that turned into "Wintry Mix" near the top. By the third time up, we had that precip freezing on the outsides of our shell pants.

First chair ride up.

The snow was decent on groomed runs and corn like at times with icy patches and some thicker patches. Anything that was not groomed was heavy, wet and hard to turn in. We stuck to Hog Heaven, and Barrier Ridge for our first few runs then decided to see what the other side of the ridge was like.

We rode the Tye Mill Chair up to the top and then went down Gemini which felt like the best run of the day so far. There was no one on the backside, and the weather was somewhat better. That changed, and the wind kicked up and the rides up the Jupiter Chair had us getting blasted in the face with icy pellets. After 3-4 runs down time was running out on the backside (they close the lifts at 3:15pm) so we decided to get back on the front of the ridge.

We had a few super enjoyable runs down The Crest Trail and Skid Road before making a few last runs down Skyline as the skies turned blue and we warmed up and dried out.

Overall we had a great day. The snow was pretty good where it had been groomed, or where lots of people were skiing. We stuck to all blue runs as the black diamonds were not groomed and not too many people were skiing them. The snow in those areas was not appealing, and neither Ken nor I were looking to get injured on our last day of lift served skiing this season.

Last chair of day.

The First Record of Michael Fisher

The first record I have of Michael Fisher comes from Carroll County, Ohio Deed Book 6 page 475 and is dated December 21, 1840. Michael was apparently a resident of Stark County, Ohio when he purchased 62 acres of land in the Southwest Quarter of Section Six in Township Sixteen in Range Six (SW ¼ S6 T16 R4) in Carroll County. John Phend owned 80 acres in the NE ¼ of that same section. Michael's daughter Louisa would marry Jacob Phend, son of John, in August 1847.

Talk about legal speak:
John Shover to Michel Fisher. To all to whom these presents shall come greeting. Know ye that I John Shover of Stark County Ohio, for the consideration of Eight hundred and fifty dollars Received to my full Satisfaction of Michel Fisher of the County and State aforesaid do give grant bargain Sell and confirm unto him the said Michel Fisher the following described tract or lot of land Situate in the County of Carroll and State of Ohio and being south west quarter of section number six in Township Sixteen in range number six and is bounded As follows by the lines of Said quarter containing Sixty two acres more or less. To have and to hold the above bargained and granted premises with the appurtenances thereof unto him the Said Michel Fisher his heirs and assigns forever to his and their own proper use and behoof and Also I the said John Shover do for my Self my heirs Executors and administrators covenant with the Said Michel Fisher his heirs and assigns that at and until the issuing of these presents I was well Seized of the premises as a good indifinable Estate in fee simple and have good right to bargain and sell the same in manner and form as is above written and that the same is free of all Encumbrances what soever and further I the Said Joseph Shover do by these presents bind myself and my heirs forever to warrant and defend the above bargained and granted premises to him the said Michel Fisher his heirs and assigns against all claims and demands whatsoever. And I Anna wife of the Said John Shover do hereby in consideration of the money as the aforesaid paid to my said husband release and forever quit claim unto the said Michel Fisher his heirs and assigns all my right of dower in and to the above described premises. In witness whereof we have hereunto set our hands and seals this twenty first day of December Anno Domini one thousand Eight hundred and forty.
Signed Sealed and delivered presence of David Huston

Guadalupe Mountains

Wednesday, April 6th - - Continuing north on Texas Highway 54 about 60 miles from the town of Van Horn, you run smack dab into the south face of the Guadalupe Mountains!





This was still about 15 miles south. The mountain rises dramatically from the desert floor. The peak in the center is El Capitan, which has an elevation of 8,085 feet. Guadalupe Peak, the highest peak in Texas at 8,749 feet, is directly behind El Capitan. (As always, double-click on an image to view a larger version! It's worth the "extra" clicks!!)





US Highways 62 and 180 intersect with route 54 just south of the mountain. I traveled a short distance west on 62/180 to take the above photo.





Turning back to the east, highway 62/180 heads into the mountains. (This was taken as I was driving down the highway – not a recommended practice by the way - hence a bit of glare in the center of the picture.)





El Capitan as seen from Guadalupe Pass, which is at 5,420 feet.



The view from my site at Pine Springs Campground in Guadalupe Mountains National Park. Not quite as imposing as El Capitan but impressive nevertheless.



I had been told by one of the campers at Monahans Sandhills that even if I did no hiking, it was worth the drive to Guadalupe just to see the Mountains. I totally agree with that assessment.



I had also been informed that it was extremely windy at Guadalupe. In fact, that is the primary reason I didn't go there last year. And, yes, it was quite windy. The van was buffeted all night long as the wind howled through the mountains. They have some nice trails too (some even designated as easy), but I didn't do any hiking – too windy and the left leg is still bothering me.

Winding Road

When you see a sign like this don't take it lightly. Narrow winding roads in the Jemez Mountains mean that the roads can be so narrow that two cars can't pass each other.