A Most Excellent Adventure :: Sawyer Glacier

Friday, August 27th - - As we maneuvered around one of several outcroppings, Sawyer Glacier came into view.

I was awestruck by its size and intensity of color, and we were still well over a mile away!

A zoomed-in view of Sawyer Glacier.
As we moved in closer we began to realize just how big this thing was. And we were all amazed by the amount of ice floating in the water.

Slowly and gradually we moved in but the closest we got was 5/8 of a mile away. Captain Steve said that he normally gets to within a quarter mile (as he did yesterday) but there usually isn't so much ice. He went on to say that there had been several very large “events” (calving) yesterday, which is why the ice was so thick.

A close-up of a portion of the face of the glacier. Note that the upper portion, or second tier level, is now hidden from our view.

Of course, calving was what everyone wanted to see - and hear! Me too!
But I was also enthralled by all of the ice that completely surrounded the boat. The ice was constantly on the move. Every time there was an event there was also a surge in the movement of the ice. When all was quiet you could hear the ice moving – each piece scraping against the other and making a crackling, tinkling sound.

It wasn't a solid mass of ice but was made up of pieces of all different sizes.
When we first came into view of the glacier, Steve had told us to look for the seals laying on the ice. He had been in contact with two Rangers who were perched on the side of a cliff to the right of the glacier. Their task was to count the seals and at the time we arrived they had tallied more than 1,000 of them! They were everywhere, generally close to the perimeter of the cove.

There wasn't a lot of movement on their part. One would occasionally lift up its head and look around but mostly they were just taking it easy.

The seals didn't seem to be bothered one bit when ice fell off of the glacier. They just rolled with the flow.

There was quite a bit of activity with the glacier. This was a fairly large event. You can see ice still cascading down while the spray from the big chunk that fell flies up in the air. We stayed at Sawyer Glacier for nearly two hours and by the end of that time, I was freezing! But I would have stayed longer if I could. It was impressive, exciting, exhilarating. Quite simply, fantastic!

Before we left, however, Captain Steve noticed a seal not too far away and maneuvered the boat closer to it. The seal lifted its head and looked at us. It made no attempt to leave its apparently comfortable perch on that bit of ice.

And with that sweet look, we departed Sawyer Glacier, exuberant and more than satisfied with the experiences of the day. But wait! There's more...

Balboa Park Plumerias

A huge cluster of plumeria flowers in Balboa Park, San Diego.

Time Traveling

I took this photo yesterday at the end of the Minuteman Trail in Bedford, Mass. Looking at it later, it occurred to me that everything here is from another era. This might as well have been taken several decades ago. The Autumn scenery is probably a big contributor to the nostalgic feel.

This train car of the defunct Boston and Maine Railroad is now a merely decorative presence at the end of the Rail Trail. The heyday and downfall of Boston and Maine followed a similar timeline as the heyday and downfall of the Raleigh Roadsters. Will the charming regional train lines ever make a comeback? I would like that. And I hope they allow bicycles on board.

Snowshoeing Wauswaugoning Bay (again)

I went back to snowshoe Wauswaugoning Bay again, this time by myself. I was planning to push beyond where the 3 of us went on our last journey to the bay. We had hoped to make it to the south side of Pigeon Point, where we could get a view of the Susie Islands. As it turned out the distance was farther than we thought and our light was running out so we had to turn around before we made it all the way.

I headed out a bit earlier, hoping it would be enough time to make it. The sky was also totally clear, rather than wall to wall clouds and it was to be a full moon tonight so if I ran out of time again I would have the full moonlight to guide me back (I also had my headlamp, just in case). This ended up being the most amazing snowshoe hike I have ever been on! I made it to the Lake Superior shoreline, just in time for sunset. There were some fascinating ice formations on the shore. I even saw some wolf tracks following the shoreline. To top it off, the ice on Wauswaugoning Bay was creaking and groaning which I could hear throughout the whole hike.

It was especially eerie walking back through the woods after dark, in the moonlight, and hearing the noises of the ice as it shifted and settled. As I walked through the woods guided by the glow from the moon (it was bright enough that I never once turned my headlamp on), every now and then the ice would speak. "Booooooo.... doomp!" it cried. I would walk for another minute or two then again "Boooooooo.... doomp!" This is the best way I can describe the noise. It must be the force of the water pushing the ice into the bay, then when the force eases up on the ice, the ice settles. The pressure pushing the ice in must create the "Boooooo" sound, then when the pressure eases the ice settles down, making the "doomp" sound. At any rate, it was eerie but wonderful. To top things off, I even heard an owl hooting a couple of times as I walked through the woods, bathed in that glorious moonlight. A night to remember.

(Above: I titled this image "Haunted Forest". The surreal look was achieved by running a 2-second exposure while at the same time panning the camera slightly from left to right.)

Sunken Gardens in St. Petersburg, FL

I have wanted to visit Sunken Gardens in St. Petersburg for a few years now and we just have not made it here until now. We love visiting botanical gardens in general and they give me a chance to take pretty pictures. So I was thrilled when Nathan picked this as one of his places to visit for his pre-birthday party day.



Sunken Gardens is St. Petersburg's oldest living museum. It is 100 years old, which means some of the plants here are amongst the oldest in the area. The land was originally owned by a gentleman who was a plumber by trade but he loved to garden. His gardens were so beautiful, people paid a nickle to visit them. His family kept up this tradition for three generations and in 1999 the city bought the land to preserve it and further his vision. It has been a community effort to maintain this project and there is now a children's museum alongside the gardens.








It was as lovely as we had hoped it would be. There were beautiful
gardens of course. According to their literature, there are over 50,000
tropical plants and flowers.




There were some neat animals as a bonus, both in the water and land. There were even some vibrant tropical birds.





There were lots of water features and benches to sit and rest on also. Just a nice, peaceful place overall. They even offer hooping classes here!



I hope we can visit this neat place again sometime! Maybe I will have to join in for a hooping class or two some morning. I will provide entertainment for the creatures watching if nothing else! I can feel this guy's enthusiasm in that line of thinking. He just radiates excitement, right?





Living the life in tropical Florida.

Computer Games

I have never liked computer games, but with the influence of the Co-Habitant I am finally starting to get into them.



Here he is, taking a break after a particularly heated round.



What you need to play: an open road and a fast bicycle. Challenging hills can be introduced after you pass Level 1. Oh yes, and of course you'll need a computer.



After I mocked the Co-Habitant for putting one of these on his own bike, he decided that I was just jealous and got me one for Graham (my Rivendell Sam Hillborne). I reluctantly agreed to try it, and quickly grew to love it - much to my dismay, as there is really no attractive way to attach these things to a bike.



For those not familiar with it, a bicycle computer is basically a speedometer with some extra features. Mine tells me: distance covered during a trip,current speed, maximum speed during a trip, average speed, andtotal distance covered so far (since installing the computer). There is also a clock, which is handy since I don't wear a watch and extracting my mobile phone requires stopping the bike. If you are training yourself for touring, the bicycle computer helps you measure your progress in terms of how fast you are able to cycle. Keeping track of the distance you have covered is also useful. My top speed so far is 27.4 mph (44.1 km/h), which I reached the other day on the hills in Maine. I know that to the roadies out there, this is far from impressive. But for me, it was shocking to learn that I was capable of cycling this fast. 27.4 mph is of course a downhill speed, but on flattish ground I was consistently cycling at 16-19 mph.



The Co-Habitant is faster, so I guess he won the computer games - and probably will continue to win for a while. But who knows, maybe someday I will catch up.



The main thing that makes me lose speed, is fiddling around with my shifters. I don't shift gears on my usual rides outside Boston, so whenever we go to an area with real hills it takes me a while just to get comfortable with shifting. The Co-Habitant thinks that my friction shifters are an affectation, and if I got "brifters" (brake levers that contain indexed shifters within them) it would solve all of my problems. I feel attached to my wonderfulsilverbar-end shifters, but I do see his point.



For those interested in touring or in cycling for sport, the bicycle computer can be useful and fun. But beware: Once you have one, it can also get addictive! I know some people who have one on every single bicycle they own and are incapable of cycling without knowing their exact speed or distance covered. I am not likely to suffer this fate, but I amglad to have a computer on Graham. And a question for the randonneurs and roadies out there: What speed should I be working toward for touring and for club rides? It would be great to know where I stand.

A tweaked German Breakfast and looking for Hansel and Gretel

Breakfast in Germany is more exciting than in the Netherlands, well at least from a variety and aesthetics point of view. You see I am a visual person and will always be. I made the decision not to take our breakfast at the hotel because I want to taste Berlin, smell the city and devour culture along the way.

We stayed at an allegedly typically Deutsch hotel in Mitte, Berlin—Grimm’s, from the Brothers Grimm fame. They are the author of many fairy tale stories we all grew up with such as Cinderalla, Snow White, Golden Goose, Rapunzel and many more. However, sad to say, the hotel did not live up to the fairy tale theme. Our room is supposed to be the ‘Hansel and Gretel’ room but there was no trace of the witch or of the 2 kids, just a poem written on the wall.

Where are you Hansel and Gretel? Are you hiding from the witch? Don’t worry please, I am not the bad witch, lol.

So on our first morning we walked to Alexanderplatz and before reaching the square we chanced upon this charming outdoor cafe terrace, ‘Cafe Kaffeestube Restaurant’ in Nikolaiviertel (Nikolai Quarter). I could not help it, the ambience looked so inviting so I announced to the Dutchman that we will have breakfast here. The cafe restaurant is located beside the Nikolai Church on a corner street facing the main thoroughfare but cosy enough to have a bit of privacy from the busy traffic.

I think we did our best to order the typically German breakfast but interestingly they tweaked it a bit and included a slice of Brie cheese with chives. Sometimes you just have to give in to the French, nicht wahr?

This pretty Deutsch breakfast is 4 stars out of 5.

This is much better than sitting in the breakfast area of the hotel.

Moi here in the hotel. They have nice bathrooms though. And the Hansel and Gretel poem in Deutsch on the wall, the only evidence I could find that this is indeed the Hansel and Gretel room.

Santa Was Here OR They Did It With Slinkys

Contrary to popular belief Slinkys can be found all over this town including Sullivan's Toys
in Cleveland Park and Bruce Variety in Bethesda- the last of the hopefully never late GREAT independent shops. And this year my nephew, Teddy didn't have to worry about sharing his Slinky or having it swiped by his grandfather or another smaller annoying relative.

Hope you had a swell holiday as well.

The "Born Again" Moment

Some of you were surprised when I mentioned in a recent post that I only began cycling again in Spring - so I thought it would be fun to share my "born again" moment. The Co-Habitant and I developed a huge batch of film for one of our art projects earlier this week, and it turned out that one roll contained these pictures from 8 months ago - pictures of my first real bicycle ride after not having cycled in 12 years.



After testing a coupe of bicycles on the premises of local bike shops, we finally took the plunge and rented a his and hers KHS Green, to see how feasible it would be for us to travel by bike round Boston. These shots were taken along the Charles River trail.



It was an unseasonably warm day, and within the first half hour of the ride my jacket was folded up and tucked under the spring on the rear rack. Also within the first half hour of the ride, I knew that this was "it". How could I have lived without a bicycle thus far? And what would I do when the time came to return the rental?



The day after these photos were taken, my search for a new bicycle began in earnest, and that is how this weblog was born: It was initially meant to be a collection of reviews and photos of beautiful, functional bicycles for people with similar skill levels to mine and with the same beginner anxieties. I guess my viewpoint has progressed a bit since then, and I have gotten much more into "cycling culture" than I had anticipated. But still, the whole point of this website is that I am not an expert and do not have a great deal of cycling experience - which hopefully makes me unintimidating and approachable to new readers curious about bicycles.



The Co-Habitant and I had been toying with the idea of bikes on and off for years. But what finally made me start cycling had nothing to do with the practical considerations this involved. It was a result of a very personal, visceral sense of pure joy - which apparently has been captured on film quite nicely! Seeing these shots was a nice surprise; we had forgotten that we took them. And it was especially timely before Thanksgiving, as I am most grateful for the role bicycles have played in my life this year.



Enjoy your week-end, and make sure to feed your bicycles some turkey. They don't like to feel left out!

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.