Cedar-apple rust

Extension agents probably hear it a lot this time of year: What the heck is that alien orange thingy in my cedar tree?!



Check out those gelatinous telial spore horns (noodly appendages).

It's Cedar-apple rust, and it's caused by the fungus Gymnosporangium juniperi-virginianae.

If yours doesn't look quite like this, it might be one of the similar (related) rusts: Cedar-hawthorne rust or Cedar-quince rust. Check the chart of rust differences.

Basically, the Cedar-hawthorne rust's noodly appendages are short and stubby (as opposed to the long and thin ones on the Cedar-apple rust gall shown here). And Cedar-quince rust is mainly just orange goo on bark and twigs. You can see pictures of the latter on my previous posts on the subject here and here. The photos at the first link also show how the rusts appear when they're not quite so wet.

I can't seem to stop writing about these rusts when they make themselves so obvious in the spring. The way they alternate hosts, and of course their appearance, is so unusual.

Fungi expert Tom Volk has written about Gymnosporangium juniperi-virginianae too, in a much more scientific fashion, here.

The Trail Not Taken

Of the reasons I had for visiting the North Rim one was simple curiosity. I wanted to get a glimpse of the North Kaibab Trail. Was it as formidable as the trails from the South Rim? It starts out at a higher elevation – the North Rim is 1,000 feet higher than the South Rim and the elevation drawing for the North Kaibab Trail is certainly intimidating. It is also a longer trail, 14.2 miles from the trailhead to the Colorado River. By comparison, the South Kaibab Trail is 6.3 miles to the river, while the Bright Angel Trail is 7.8 miles. I had no intention of hiking the trail on this visit. Why not? Well, the temperature at the river was over 100 degrees and I am not yet prepared to undertake an overnight backpacking trip, especially on my own! Will I ever do it? I really don't know. But for now, I am satisfied with just looking at the trail.

To get a good view of the North Kaibab Trail I took the Uncle Jim Trail which branches off of the Ken Patrick Trail. The former is a five mile loop trail that “winds through the forest to a point overlooking the canyon and the North Kaibab switchbacks.” There were some up and down stretches over somewhat rocky, steep terrain but for the most part the trail was in good condition and fairly easy walking.

The North Rim has experienced several fires in the past few years and evidence of those fires is everywhere. The Park Service is taking a mostly hands-off approach to the burned out trees and letting nature take her course in rejuvenating the area.

One of the big differences between the North and South Rim are the forests of pine trees in the north. Though only a few miles separate the two rims the climate is completely different.

Looking south from the overlook on the Uncle Jim Trail. The North Kaibab Trail is barely visible on the lower portions of the canyon walls.

The upper portion of the North Kaibab Trail, the beginning of which is in the upper right corner. Appearances are deceiving; it is much steeper than it looks.

The trail disappears from view in the middle portion of the canyon then appears again on the sides of the canyon walls.

I spent several hours at the Uncle Jim Overlook. I ate my lunch, soaked up some sunshine, marveled at the birds soaring on the wind, and watched the clouds float by. And I had it all to myself until the last 15 minutes when a mother-daughter hiking combo showed up. We chatted for a while then we each set off back down the trail.

It was late afternoon when I reached the trailhead. I wasn't planning on spending another day on the North Rim so I drove the forty miles north to Jacob Lake where I knew there was a large campground run by the Forest Service and where I had no problems finding a site for the night.

The Search for Hawksbill Church

Monday afternoon (November 2nd) found me back in Shenandoah County, Virginia - specifically Strasburg, Edinburg, and Luray - in search of that elusive church mentioned in my previous post!

On Wednesday (October 25th) I had made a detour from Shenandoah National Park to Luray, known for its caverns. But that isn't why I went there. I stopped at the library and got some assistance from one of the librarians. I was looking for the location of what in the 1700s and early 1800s was known as the Hoxbiel or Hawksbiel or Hawksbill Church. By 1848, when a new brick building was constructed, it was known as Mount Calvary Lutheran Church. The librarian provided a copy of transcriptions of the church register of baptisms and marriages but it was for a much later time period. But in the preface I learned that even though the congregation disbanded in 1959, the church building still existed and that it was located three miles south of Luray. However, none of the library staff knew where it was located.

The first two pastors that served the Hawksbill congregation were J. C. Stoever (Sr) from 1733-34 and J. C. Stoever (Jr) from 1734-42. They were Johann Caspar Stoever and were my 6th and 5th great-grandfathers, respectively. As stated in the previous post mentioned above, the elder man died at sea in 1739 while returning from a fund raising trip to Europe. The younger Stoever was a traveling pastor visiting and serving several congregations, often at the same time, in Pennsylvania (primarily in what was then Lancaster County, which encompassed a great deal more territory than it does today) and northern Virginia. Much has been written of his exploits and troubles regarding his pastorate and conflicts with his fellow clergymen. There is no way that I can possibly condense it all down so it would make sense in a brief blog post. A fairly complete accounting of his life can be found on pages 51-101 in "Stover-Stoever-Staver- Stiver, An Account of The Ancestry and Descendants of Johann Caspar Stoever of Pennsylvania" by Vernon Stiver & Patricia R. Donaldson, Saline, Michigan, 1992.

The fact that the two Stoevers were both pastor of this church was interesting but not too surprising given the fact that it wasn't all that far from Madison and the Hebron Lutheran Church, albeit on the other side of a mountain range! But what intrigued me more was the fact that another ancestor, 5th great-grandfather, Wilhelm Georg Forster aka William Foster, served as the eighth pastor of the Hawksbill Church from 1798-1806. The Stoevers are ancestors on my Dad's side of the family and William Foster is on my Mother's side.

I took the main road south from Luray (Business Route U.S. 340) thinking there might be a sign pointing the way. I got excited when I saw a sign for Hawksbill Primitive Baptist Church, until it sank in that it was a Baptist Church! I did stop at a gas station along the way, but no one there knew anything about Mount Calvary Lutheran Church, which wasn't surprising since it had closed in 1959. For another hour, I aimlessly drove along the back roads of the valley, hoping for some good luck but finding none, and not finding the church.

While staying with my aunt that weekend I spent some time at Panera Bread using their free WiFi (thank you very much – my aunt has dial-up access, sloooow) and found a pdf file which is an application for the National Register of Historic Places and which provided an exact location for Mount Calvary Church. I really wasn't concerned with finding the actual church so much as just wanting to see where it was located. The building itself held no meaning for me since it was built long after the Stoevers and Fosters were there.

To make a long story short, I returned to Luray after I left my aunt's place and found the church, sort of. I briefly saw the building through the trees high on a hill at the base of a mountain on a narrow, winding dirt road where there was no place to stop without blocking the road completely. I did see a dirt road (more like a trail) that led up the hill, but it was deeply rutted and overgrown and there was no way I was going to attempt to drive my van on it. I also chose not to walk up the trail since it was rather remote and rugged terrain. And I didn't get any pictures either. But I did satisfy my curiosity. It was really out in the middle of nowhere. Now and even moreso back then.

While pastor of Hawksbill, Wilhelm Foster also served as pastor of the Hebron Lutheran Church in Hampshire County, Virginia (now part of West Virginia) from 1797-1803. It is located on West Virginia route 259 between Capon Lake and Intermont (Photograph on wikipedia). And yes, I did make the drive and went to see where this church was located.

In 1796, Wilhelm Forster had purchased 289 ½ acres of land located on the "drains of Bauman Mill Run" outside of Strasburg, Virginia. It was from this central location that he served these two congregations. Strasburg is located midway between the Shenandoah and Blue Ridge Mountains, just below the northern end of Massanutten Mountain, which divides the Shenandoah Valley.

To get to Hawksbill he had to go over a portion of Massanutten. To get to the Hebron Church in Hampshire County, he had to cross over the Shenandoah Mountains. Both churches are about a distance of 25-30 miles from Strasburg. Over the mountains, through the rivers and forests. A distance that took me far less than an hour to travel probably took him several days. By spending the time to drive through the valley and over the mountains to locate the churches, I gained a greater appreciation for these pioneer ancestors.

Oh, and I also obtained the signature of Wilhelm Georg Forster. It was on the land record where he and his wife Magdalene were selling the land they had purchased in 1796. (Shenandoah County Deed Book Q page 43) They sold the land on July 4, 1807 prior to their move to Fairfield (now Perry) County, Ohio. In 1805 Wilhelm had been appointed as a traveling preacher in the Ohio district known as "New Pennsylvania" which included Fairfield (Perry), Muskingum, Pickaway and Ross counties.

A JP Weigle Classic

A week or so ago, I came across a picture of a beautiful J.P. Weigle bicycle that got my attention because of its small size - "small enough for me to try!" was of course my immediate thought. And that is when I noticed something else: The location of the photo looked familiar... Could it be? Good Lord, this bike was in Boston! Turns out the owner (Mark) was not only local, but "wicked local" - his woodworking studio is 10 minutes away from my art studio. A visit was swiftly arranged and soon I was swooning over this bike in person.





Connectictut-based J.P. Weigle is a legendary framebuilder best known today for his exquisite randonneuring bicycles.





With a multiple year waiting list and prices to match the builder's status, Weigle bikes don't exactly grow on trees. I was extremely excited to see this one.






Based on the aesthetics I had assumed this was a recently made low trail 650B randonneur. But in fact the frame was built in 1982 as a sports-touring bike with 700C wheels, narrow tires and mid-trail geometry. This bike has an interesting, bitter-sweet history. It was made as a birthday gift for Mark's father - who at that point was in his 70s. Shortly before he passed away, he gave the bicycle to his son. Prior to this Mark had not been especially interested in cycling, but inheriting the bicycle drew him in. The bike was comfortable, fast, beautiful, and served as a tangible reminder of his father.






Over time Mark rode the bike more and more, eventually getting the frame repainted and updating the components. The current set-up is comfortable and racy in equal measure - reflecting the owner's enjoyment of spirited cycling, as well as his preference to ride in everyday clothing.





As I examined the bicycle, it was overwhelming to realise that the frame was 30 years old - a testament to the builder's commitment and consistency.






The lugwork, the craftsmanship and the overall aesthetic are impressive.






There is a crispness, precision and sense of harmony to everything that is just right.





And this is carried through in everything from the lugwork to the colour scheme and decals.







Mark's choice of components enhances the elegance of the frame further still.





A harmonious, personal, functional and beautiful build.






Being a custom frame, the proportions were made to suit the original owner - who was of short stature with a long torso. Mark's proportions are similar, though perhaps he is a bit taller. Having quickly measured the frame, the figures I got are 50cm x 54cm, which makes sense given how this bicycle felt to me. With the saddle set back and the handlebars considerably lower than the saddle, I was leaning forward much more than I normally would.





To say that I test rode this bicycle would be to overstate the fact. I rode it up a gentle hill, circled around a pothole-ridden parking lot, then rode it back downhill. Mark's saddle height was just right for me. The brakes were difficult for my hands to squeeze, but doable. The downtube shifters I did not even try, not that I needed them for the duration of this ride. The ride felt great over potholes, very easy uphill, and stable downhill. The tires felt much more cushy than 23mm, which was interesting. The bike did not have toe overlap with the 23mm tires and fenders. Though I would need to make some adjustments before I could confidently take this bicycle on a proper test ride, I can certainly see why the owner enjoys it so much.





It is not every day that one gets to see, let alone ride a 30-year-old J.P. Weigle that has been passed on from father to son, and once again I feel extremely lucky to live in a region where such a thing is within the realm of possibilities. I enjoyed meeting Mark, the bicycle's owner, who is an interesting person and makes some beautiful chairs I now crave. Some day I hope to meet Mr. Weigle and talk to him about his work, which I have great respect for. More pictures of this bike here!

Got Skills? Riding a Bicycle without Knowing How

I tend to think of myself as having begun cycling when I got into it as an adult. But technically, that is not so. I learned to ride a bike when I was a child, and rode one all through junior high and most of high school. There was a nice post today on ecovelo, where Alan mentioned having "lived on his bike" as a kid, and in a sense it was similar for me. My friends and I did not race each other through wheatfields or pop wheelies, but we did use our bikes to get around our small town. Even once old enough to drive, most of us somehow still stuck with bicycles: It just seemed easier and even kept us off our parents' radar (for example, they could not look at the odometer to determine whether we had gone out when we were told not to).



But during all those years of riding bikes as a child and teenager, I knew absolutely nothing about "technique." At some point I was given a 2-wheel bike, and I used it as a push-bike for a few laps around the park until suddenly I was able to pedal without the bike falling over. To me, that meant that I was pretty much done learning "technique." In the years that followed, I rode with the saddle low, never learned how to start and stop "properly" or to pedal while standing, and was not aware that turning involved leaning and balancing, rather than using the handlebars. Heck, I never even learned how to shift gears, because the shifters on my low-end bike were jammed!



When I think about how it feels to cycle today - and particularly, how it felt when I first started doing it as an adult - I am confused and frustrated by all those younger years spent riding a bike without knowing how to do it properly. It's odd that I did not naturally pick up any skills what so ever during that time. (How can that be? Surely no one is that unathletic?) Moreover, my friends must have been just as clueless, because no one ever made fun of me or told me I was "doing it wrong." And it's frustrating that those skills were so much easier to learn as a child than as an adult - so by not having learned them early, I am at a disadvantage that may take me some effort to overcome.



I first discovered the concept of leaning on turns by reading about it, and after that it took months before Iphysicallybecame aware of it enough to gain some control over the process. Of course when I did, I was ecstatic - to the amazement of the Co-Habitant who had not realised the extent to which I never learned these things.



As for saddle height, it is an ongoing fiasco: It took over a year of gradually raising it until I was able to have it at more or less the height where it needs to be for good leg extension... But I still cannot mount a bicycle properly and have to do a graceless little lean-and-hoist maneuver to get myself onto that raised saddle. Terrified of falling, I am highly resistant to being taught, and watching videos of others doing it over and over has not helped. At least I am now finally able to pedal while standing: After months of riding fixed gear, I finally got it (at first I could do it only on the fixed gear, then the skill gradually transferred onto freewheel bikes). I have to say, that was not easy for me to "get". In my head I understood what to do, but my body refused to balance.



It seems absurd to me that I can ride a roadbike at 25 mph, handle long climbs and hilly descents, ride a fixed gear racing bike "for fun" - yet still lack some of the most rudimentary cycling skills after almost two years of trying to master them.Will I ever be able to handle a bike like a "real" cyclist?Who knows - maybe I can still learn. Or maybe I should just accept that my early years of "doing it wrong" ruined me for life.Is the way you cycle now different from how you did it as a child? And if you are a parent, at what age did you teach your children to ride a bike and how did they take to it?I wonder how many others there are who feel this way - as if they are riding a bike without knowing how.

Winter Project: a Roadbike for the Ladies Who Fear Roadbikes

The house is full of excitement, as the Bicycle Fairy has visited me again!It was a Japanese bicycle fairy. She spoke through an interpreter, and these were her words:

The bicycle fairies have decided that you need a winter bike project! We have chosen this bicycle for a reason. When you see it, you will know what to do with it...

And indeed I knew exactly what to do once I saw this neglected beauty, her frame an enchanting mixture of mauve and champagne. She is a 1980'sShogun- a Japanese touring bike in double butted cromoly steel.



While I don't need another roadbike, I think that many other ladies out there do - particularly this bicycle, once I get through with it! What's so special about this bike? Well, I will start from the beginning. I hear a lot of stories from women who have tried to ride a roadbike, but felt that it was too aggressive and uncomfortable and gave up - as well as from women who would like to ride a roadbike, but are too nervous to try in the first place. I understand that state of mind, because when I first tried to ride a bike with drop bars, it felt awful and I eventually gave up. What then made me succeed on myRivendell this year? For me, the big difference was comfort, stable handling, and a choice of components that I believe works especially well for women.



As far as comfort and stable handling, this Shogun has that down - whereas the same is definitely not true for all vintage roadbikes. This particular bicycle is stable and fairly relaxed - a vintage predecessor to the Rivendellphilosophy, if you will.Just like I had an easy time learning on myRivendell, I think thisShogunwill be great for that -with the benefit of a much lower price point.



My plan is to give this bicycle a make-over, to learn a thing or two about vintage Japanese bikes in the process, and then to find a new home for it in the spring.I will keep a lot of its vintage goodness, but will replace some of the components with my own mix that I have found especially comfortable and easy to use - and I think that other women will too.As I begin to work on the bike, I will explain what it is I am changing about it, and why. And I will also post a test ride report soon, comparing it to other vintage roadbikes that I have tried.I am excited about this project, because I think this bicycle is justperfectfor a woman who would like to try a roadbike but is not confident about her skills. The right bike can make all the difference!

French Experiments Continue: Belleville Handlebars and Inverse Brake Levers

Spare bicycle parts, a restless spirit, and a willing "guinea pig" can make for a dangerous combination. In her latest reincarnation, Marianne sports VO Belleville handlebars and Dia Compe inverse brake levers - a practice run to determine how a similar set-up would feel on the Royal H. mixte.



Here are the bars and levers in all of their French glory - on a Motobecane mixte with an Ideale saddle.



The Belleville handlebars are similar to the Porteur handlebars shown here. Both are a classic style of upright bars found on vintage French city bicycles. These bars are narrow, with long gripping areas that are nearly parallel to each other - placing the rider's hands in a position similar to holding a tray. The Bellevilles are 5cm narrower than the Porteurs (43cm vs 48cm) and are completely straight across the front (whereas the Porteurs have a slight forward sweep).



It is typical to see handlebars like this fitted with inverse brake levers. My assumption is that this is done to maximise the gripping area of the bars. Because the levers are installed at the ends, there are no interruptions along the handlebar's surface and the cyclist is free to move their hands pretty much along the entire bar.



The inverse brake levers you will find today are most likely either Tektro or Dia Compe. Here I have installed the latter, and you can see that their brown rubbery tips go nicely with twined handlebars. It surprised me to learn that some dislike the Dia Compes because of the brown tips and prefer the Tektro levers instead - which are all-metal. To me, the rubbery surface felt nice, but I suppose it isa matter of personal preference. If you have used either of these levers, I'd like to hear your thoughts.



Braking with inverse levers. I have found that I am able to get pretty good leverage almost no matter where I hold my hand along the bar, with the exception of the very front.



Can't brake from here, near the corners. But if I move my hands 1-2 inches back, it will work. This set-up is amazingly versatile in terms of the hand positions it allows.



The inverse levers are set back from the bars far enough so that they do not interfere with the grip. You can see in the pictures that they are nowhere near my knuckles. Truly a neat design.



If you are curious about this type of French set up, both the bars and the levers are surprisingly inexpensive. You will like them if you are a fan of narrow handlebars, and if you prefer to hold your hands to the sides rather than flared out or straight in front of you. I certainly fit that description, so both the Belleville and the Porteur handlebars feel as if they were made just for me. The super-wide Albatross bars were comfortable enough, but with the Bellevilles and the Porteurs I get that "spot on!" feeling. I also think that they are better match for French bicycles - especially for the Motobecane's aggressive handling.



I will pause and confess here, that this is the last change I will be making to Marianne...because she no longer belongs to me. Yes, I did sell her after all - to a lovely local woman whose acquaintance I had the pleasure of making this morning. Riding the Motobecane with the French handlebars and inverse levers yesterday, I finally felt that this bicycle was "perfect" and experienced a calm sense of satisfaction - not dissimilar to how I feel when a painting is finally "finished" or when a photograph looks just right. And after that, it finally felt appropriate to let her go. I hope the new owner enjoys her as much as I hope to enjoy my Royal H. mixte - which I will most definitely fit with a similar handlebar set-up.



Oh - and if anybody wants someNitto Albatross bars (the alloy version) or VO Milan bars, drop me a line. Thankfully, I have no more "spare" bicycles to put them on.

User Friendly Interface

Now that it's winter, I find that strangers talk to me more than usual about cycling - typically when they see me locking up my bike. Over the past couple of weeks, several women have told me that they'd love to ride a bike, but find the logistics daunting: having to buy lights and figure out how to mount them; constantly getting flats (something they remember from previous cycling experiences); having to figure out how to carry their handbag, struggling to mount the bike in business attire, and other similar concerns. Their misgivings are fueled by the perception that cycling will complicate their lives - compared to walking, or taking public transportation, or driving.



What frustrates me about this, is that all of their concerns can be addressed with the right bike. As I explain about step-through frames, dynamo lighting, tires with puncture-protection, dress guards, chain cases, and panniers that attach to the bicycle's rack in seconds, I can see the ladies' faces light up as they eye these features hungrily.



One woman tried to step through my frame in her skirt-suit and squealedwith delight when she was able to do it. She had never tried anything other than a mountainbike before. She said: "I knewyou had a special type of bike! It's got this... user-friendly interface!" That phrase echoed in my mind for some time.



Even though I enjoy learning about bicycle design and own multiple bikes on which I constantly experiment, I am first and foremost a "transportation cyclist." My main priority is to have that one bike that is reliable, comfortable, and as low-maintenance as possible. The bicycle I use for transportation needs to make life easy for me. It needs to minimise the extent to which I think about it and tinker with it - so that I can focus on work and life itself, not on the bicycle. Skirt suit? Heavy bag? Dark outside? Raining like crazy? The "user friendly interface" on my machine accommodates all of these scenarios.



Many manufacturers are making what they are calling "transportation bicycles" nowadays, but not all of these bikes work for everyone. When a woman wearing a skirt suit walks into a bike store and says she would like to start cycling to work, my hope is that the salesperson will point to the section with the right kind of bicycle for her - rather than saying "Well, you won't be able to do it wearing that!" Auser-friendly interface means that we should all be able to do it. Holiday wish: more elegant, practical, comfortable bicycle options for the women in skirt-suits who feel out of place in bike shops. It's getting better, but we aren't there yet.

Morning Dance

As the sun rises each morning over the Platte River in Central Nebraska, it is a regular activity for the cranes, as they are waking up, to stretch their wings and sometimes do a little dance for their partners or potential partners. After they stretch they will often jump up and down in the air, flapping their wings and exhibiting a number of other "dance" moves for any partner that might be interested :-)

Williamsburg Houses

What I really love about houses is that they are beautiful in the same way people are. Their beauty is in their uniqueness.

You can never go home again, but the truth is you can never leave home, so it's all right. ~Maya AngelouHome is a place not only of strong affections, but of entire unreserve; it is life's undress rehearsal, its backroom, its dressing room. ~Harriet Beecher Stowe

This quote shares the same sentiments that I felt while looking at these homes:

Home is the one place in all this world where hearts are sure of each other. It is the place of confidence. It is the place where we tear off that mask of guarded and suspicious coldness which the world forces us to wear in self-defense, and where we pour out the unreserved communications of full and confiding hearts. It is the spot where expressions of tenderness gush out without any sensation of awkwardness and without any dread of ridicule. ~Frederick W. Robertson Home is not where you live, but where they understand you. Christian Morganstern



My favorite house of all yesterday was this next one. As soon as I saw it, I said...it's a Lemoney Snickett kind of a house. And because we've been married awhile, and more importantly because we read the entire A Series of Unfortunate Events series as a family...Nathan knew exactly what I meant.

Living the life in Virginia!