Gunks Routes: Minty (5.3) & Mr. P's Wurst (5.8)

(Photo: Coming up the 5.8 pitch one of Mr. P's Wurst.)



So nice to be back home in the Gunks.



After nearly two months away, I longed for the old familiar climbing surroundings.



The overhangs.



The pitons.



The long reaches.



The horizontals.



I was climbing with Margaret on an October Sunday. She wanted some easy leading and our first target was Three Pines. Unfortunately Three Pines at 9 a.m. already had a party of three on the first pitch and another pair at the base waiting to start. This was hardly a surprise on a Sunday during peak season.



My general policy is not to wait for climbs in the Trapps. In my experience, you always find something else open if you keep looking. Sure enough, we went a little further down the cliff and found Minty (5.3) available so we were in business.



Margaret led pitch one. I think this pitch is a great introductory Gunks lead because it has an early move that seems several grades harder than the rest of the climb. This might not seem like an ideal situation for a new leader to deal with, but it happens all the time on climbs of every grade in the Gunks. You have to confront it eventually, so you might as well start to get used to it when you're leading 5.3!



On Minty, the move can catch you by surprise. You start up this little corner. A big shelf is right there for you to grab, just one step up. But the feet are these tiny, polished little half-pebbles. You have to trust your feet just long enough to step up to grab that ledge.



The move should be no big deal.



But it seems totally possible you could fall here.



So you stand there thinking "This is supposed to be 5.3! How can I be such a failure that I am worried about this little move on a 5.3??"



And you psyche yourself out.



And you try this, and you try that, desperate to avoid this tenuous little step.



Finally you just do the stupid move and feel like an idiot.



Welcome to the Gunks.





(Photo: Past the crux on pitch one of Minty (5.3).)



The other hazard on Minty is that you might go up the wrong corner. The climb keeps moving left, and all the corner systems look alike. The first time I did the route, with Liz, she went up too soon, when she should have continued moving left. But if you make this mistake, you'll likely end up on Tipsy Trees, which is another nice 5.3. So no worries.



To stay on track you should look up for the distinctive Minty tree. It is a pine tree over 100 feet up that sticks out sideways from the cliff. This tree is where pitch one ends. If you keep in mind that you are heading for this tree, you should find the correct route.





(Photo: The 5.2 pitch three of Minty.)



Minty has lots to offer. The steep, juggy climbing you'll find in the second half of pitch one and all of pitch two is especially nice. Pitch three goes at a very casual 5.2 and it isn't terribly long, but it too has good moves out from a corner system and then up jugs to the top.



My personal preference for descending from climbs in the Minty/Snooky's area is to walk a short distance to the bolted rap route at the top of the Madame G buttress. Using the bolted rap route guarantees a safe descent and avoids throwing ropes over nervous leaders on very popular climbs. The problem with this method is that the Madame G rap starts from the GT Ledge and you have to follow your nose and downclimb from the top to find the bolts. If you aren't already familiar with the location it will be hard for you to find it. In the past I have spotted the distinctive tree which grows out at an angle from the cliff right next to the rap bolts, but I must have done this at a time of year in which the trees have no leaves. Last weekend with Margaret I couldn't spot the correct tree from the top and I had some trouble finding the bolts, overshooting the right path and having to work my way back. Still, I prefer these few minutes of hunting to rapping off of the manky anchors which come and go atop the cliff.



Coming down, I could see it wasn't going to be easy to get on another three-star classic. The cliff was looking very crowded. There were parties on Madame G's, on Finger Locks or Cedar Box, on Hyjek's Horror, on almost every climb in sight. Was this a nature preserve? It bore a greater resemblance to Occupy Wall Street.



I suggested to Margaret that we do an empty climb right in front of us: Mr. P's Wurst. The climb, which ascends the right side of the Madame G buttress, is almost always open, even though it sits amidst some of the most popular routes in the Trapps.



I've been wanting to get on Mr. P's for some time, in part because I like the name, which Ivan Rezucha and Rich Perch bestowed on the route in the best Hans Kraus tradition.



Hans put up Madame G's (full name: Madame Grunnebaum's Wulst) in 1943. How many climbers understand the bawdy humor in this classic route's name? I'd wager that very few get the joke. As Susan E.B. Schwartz explains in her biography Into the Unknown: the Remarkable Life of Hans Kraus, the name was not inspired by a real person. Instead, Hans looked up at the buttress and saw two bulges up high that-- to his one-track mind-- resembled a woman's bosom. The route he created begins at a pine tree and weaves between the two breast-like features. Grunnebaum is German for green tree and wulst means bulge. Thus the route's name can be translated in full as "Mrs. Greentree's Boobs."



Once you understand the humor in Madame G's name, the meaning of Mr. P's Wurst becomes obvious. The latter route snakes up right next to Ms. Greentree's bulges, and what could be better nestled in those bulges than Mr. Perch's sausage?



Apart from the name, what interested me about Mr. P's was that no one ever seems to do it. It is always open, despite the fact that Dick Williams decided to anoint it with two stars in his 2004 guidebook. Dick also did his part to make the route more accessible, describing a new start from 50 feet up the gully to the right of the buttress instead of the 5.6 R climbing previously needed to get established on the route.



I think this new start is actually one of the reasons the crowds stay away. The gully looks unappealing and from the ground it is hard to see exactly where you're supposed to jump onto the wall.



It looked to me as though the right spot was about five or ten feet below the rap bolts that are on the other side of the gully. We decided to do pitch one of Northern Pillar (5.1) instead of climbing the gully, with Margaret leading up and cutting left near the top of the pitch to set up a belay either at or near the bolts, from which point I'd decide exactly how to get over the gully and onto the wall for Mr. P's.



Margaret ended up building a belay to the right of the bolts, in order to avoid having parties constantly rapping through as she stood there waiting for me. This worked out fine, although I think it would have been okay to use the bolts so long as she set up on the left side of them. It seems to me that when people rap and pull the ropes from above they usually fall just to the right of the bolts. So if Margaret had anchored into the bolts but stood to the left she would probably have been unaffected by the rapping parties. In the final analysis, it would have been simpler just to go up the gully.





(Photo: Approaching the crux of the 5.8 pitch one of Mr. P's Wurst. From the photo you can get some idea how overhanging the final bits of the pitch are. The other climber in the photo is on Madame G's.)



From our belay at bolt level, I traversed to the gully, downclimbed a few moves, and then made the step across to the other side. These moves are easy, but if you do it this way you need to place pro as you step down, and then again at the other side of the gully, if you want to protect your second. Again, probably it would have been better just to go up the gully.



Now I was finally on Mr. P's. The pitch wasn't difficult to follow. Good holds lead up and around the corner until you find yourself on the right side of the face of the Madame G buttress. The climbing is juggy throughout the first pitch, and the rock quality is generally good. The angle gradually steepens until it becomes overhanging for the last ten to fifteen feet of the pitch. The crux move comes at three ancient pitons. I equalized the lower two and then clipped the third one as well, hoping at least one of them would hold in the event of a fall.



A big move up to a bomber horizontal, a good cam, and another move up to a tenuous stance finished the pitch beneath a roof.





(Photo: Looking down from the hanging belay at the end of pitch one of Mr. P's Wurst (5.8). My belayer Margaret is in blue. The climber in red is descending by the bolted rappel route.)



I found the hanging belay suggested by Dick to be rather unpleasant. There are two ancient pins, plus enough horizontals to place a few cams. It isn't unsafe, but it is truly a hanging stance; I couldn't let go with both hands in order to set up my anchor. Equalizing the cordalette and tying it in a knot with one hand wasn't easy.





(Photo: Approaching the hanging belay at the end of pitch one of Mr. P's Wurst (5.8).)



Pitch two is rated 5.7+. I followed Dick's instructions exactly, moving through the roof at the break and then stepping left. The move was fun and well-protected (you can get a good cam in the break in the roof), but I thought it was a big, reachy move, definitely harder than 5.7. It reminded me of the crux moves on Maria Direct and No Glow, both 5.9.



The rest of the pitch was easier, but still good. Getting past another roof on its right side requires a couple more interesting moves, and then the route joins Madame G's to the finish.





(Photo: Just over the roof on the supposedly 5.7+ pitch two of Mr. P's Wurst.)



After I pulled up the rope and put Margaret on belay, she immediately took a fall. Then she seemed to have no trouble climbing the pitch. She told me when she arrived at the top that she'd tried the roof my way, found it ridiculously hard, and then had moved four feet or so to the left, where she found 5.7 climbing up past the roof.



So maybe Margaret's way is the right way to do it, since it is 5.7. But it isn't how Dick describes the route. Personally, I enjoyed pulling the roof, and I did exactly what Dick instructed me to do, but if you do it this way the roof move is the hardest move on the whole route, and the 5.7+ pitch becomes more like a 5.9-. So you make your own call.



I would gladly climb Mr. P's again, but I would do it differently. I would just go straight up the gully rather than deal with the bolted rappel freeway and the downclimb/traverse. And I think I would bring a few extra cams and runners and do it in one pitch all the way from the ground to the finish on the GT Ledge. This would avoid the unpleasant hanging belay. And then you'd get one super long pitch of juggy steep climbing, wholly in keeping with other great climbs on the same buttress, like Columbia (5.8) and Madame G's (5.6).



If you do it this way I'm sure you too will end up a friend to Mr. P.

Wild Locust

Close up of a wild locust tree blossom.

Aerial Afternoon

It looks like fun, but I don't think I would ever do it :-) Heights don't really bother me, but the thought of hanging in mid-air with nothing under my feet makes me kinda woozy. The hotel we were staying at in Teton Village was right at the base of the ski hill, and the cable car that goes to the top of the mountain was right behind our hotel. These guys were taking the cable car up the mountain, then sailing down and landing in a small field right across from the parking lot of our hotel. I'm guessing it was an instructional course, as some of them were doubled up.




This afternoon Stuart and I decided to take a drive to the town of Jackson (Jake opted for some nap time back at the hotel), which was only a few miles away. One of the tail lights on my car had burned out, and since I was heading for home after shooting sunset I wanted to have that fixed. So, we drove into town to look for an auto parts store and on the way back we came across this Osprey nest which was just off the road. Stuart has an eye for spotting birds and he noticed it well before I did. We pulled over to watch the nest for awhile, and were lucky enough to see an Osprey carrying a fish in its claws.

Mountain Snowpack Begins to Build Again

The recent storms have brought almost 40" of fresh snow to the mountain and more is expected in the near future. While this bodes well for the upcoming climbing season, the inclement weather does nothing to help with the road reconstruction effort underway. Still, the forecasted reopen dates remain in effect: April 1st for the opening to Longmire and May 1st for the opening of the road to Paradise. Unfortunately, with road reconstruction in full swing, there really isn't public access to Paradise... Even if you have the energy and determination to ski or hike the road. More on Access

Over the weekend rangers climbed to Camp Muir to inspect conditions and dig out facilities. I've included several photos here from this trip to whet your appetite.
While things are quiet here at the Park, this might be a good time to get a jump on things and purchase your 2007 climbing pass and cut down on the time you will spend during registration. Complete the Climbing Pass Purchase Form and fax it to 360.569.3131.

Another Sunset

Those Pesky Gunks Sevens!

(Photo: That's me in the yellow/green jacket past the crux on Thin Slabs Direct (5.7+).)



In my last post I discussed (and expressed skepticism about) several supposed 5.8 sandbags in the Trapps.



Then on Friday of last week, climbing with a new partner Matt, I was reminded of some other sandbags that are not so easily dismissed.



These climbs are like landmines for the unsuspecting leader. They promise smooth, moderate sailing but instead deliver moments of puzzlement and sketchitude.



I speak, of course, of those bewildering oddites otherwise known asGunks 5.7's.



LastFridayMatt and Iwerehoping tojump onBirdie Party, but we found it occupied. Matt suggested wedo Anguish instead since it was open and neither of us had done it. It seemed like a good idea to me. I intended to link the first two pitches in one and take us all the way up to the GT Ledge. Matt would take the crux 5.8 pitch to the top. I thoughtthe first two pitcheslooked pretty easy, except for the new crux of the first pitch that Dick Williams described in his 2004 guidebook. Instead of the traditional route, which moved to the right over a flake/corner at 5.4, Dick now recommends a roof escape to the left at 5.7-.



I thought I remembered a thread on Gunks.com where folks had complained that this roof escape felt much harder than 5.7. (I can't find such a thread now, so maybe it never existed.) But I wasn't worried. I thought it might feel like a 5.8, but so what? I'd be fine. How bad could it be?



Then I got up there under the roof and found out.



I had pro in the corner but it was all the way at the back. I tried to get something in the little flaring notch at the lip of the roof but I couldn't get anything on my rack to stick.



Then I started to pull over the roof, looking for holds, but whatever holds there were seemed very far away.



So I retreated a bit to a stance and thought it over. Dick said escape left, I realized. He didn't say to pull the roof directly.



Goingback up, Itried to follow Dick's orders and escape left. I got a hold of some small crimps and moved around the outside arete. But this put me at a really pumpy stance and the next move up was far from certain. Plus my pro was over to the right and back in the corner. I didn't like this at all. I retreated again.



Three or four times I tried to make my escape but on each occasion I didn't like the move or the potential fall so I came back. And then, defeated,I finally said "screw it" and finished the pitch the 5.4 way.



What a way to start a new climbing partnership! Bailing on a 5.7-.



Matt led the 5.8 pitch three of Anguish and it is really very good. It has some nice crux moves up to the overhang; then the overhang itself is a bit easier. The rest of the way is even more casual but thegear is a little thin. The topout requires a few easy slab moves above your pro.



I wouldn't bother to repeat pitches one and two of Anguish-- the quality moments are few, even if you include the part I skipped--but if I were descending from another climb using the nearby Three Pines rappel routeI woulddefinitely consider running up the third pitch of Anguish again.The pitchbegins on the GT Ledge right around the corner from the bolted anchor, and once you top out it's an easy walk just a few yards over to the bolts on top of the cliff for the descent.



Later in the day, after I'd redeemed myself a bit and led some harder climbs, I mentioned how embarrassed I was to have begun the day by chickening out on a 5.7-. Matt responded that he'd taken a fall at the tricky crux move of Baskerville Terrace (5.7) just a few weeks before-- and thisright after a successful lead of Roseland (5.9)! So I didn't have to feel too bad. He knew what I was going through.



Those pesky sevens!



There sure seem to be a lot of "problem" sevens at the Gunks, no? I've certainly had more 5.7difficulties than 5.8 difficulties. I've never bailed on a 5.8 lead. But here I abandoned Anguish pitch one, andI also remember a couple of seasons ago trying the opening move to Trapped Like a Rat (5.7) and then abandoning that one too. And don't even get me started on that stupid grease-pole-of-a-sandbag Laurel. Come to think of it, I once bailed on a 5.8: Drunkard's Delight (5.8-), but that route too wasuntil recentlyconsidered a 5.7+!



We finished our day last Friday with perhapsthe mother of all 5.7 sandbags: Thin Slabs Direct.



Matt led the 5.7 variation to pitch one, and wouldn't you know it, as he approached the end of the vertical crack that marks the early part of the route, I heard him muttering "Why is this so tricky??"



And then "Watch me here!"



But he sketched through the hard part and then took the lead all the way to the GT Ledge.



When it was my turn to follow I was kind of shocked at how thin the first twosteps off the ground were. I wasn't sure I could even get started on the pitch. But we all know that no matter how hard the first move is, it doesn't count as part of the difficulty rating in the Gunks. Once I got my feet on the wall and my hands in the crack, I thought the climbing was enjoyable and, yes, kind of stiff for 5.7.



When I got near the top of the crack I saw what Matt had been concerned about. The hands were good, but the feet were smeary.I knew with one morereach the angle would ease off; the harder variation start would be over.As I smearedand reached up with the security of the toprope,I thought:"nice lead!"



And: "5.7??"



Once Igot tothe GT LedgeI had to confront the Thin Slabs Direct finish, which is supposedly 5.7+. This variationhas the distinction of being the only "direct" finish I can think of that is actually substantially less direct than the regular route. It is in fact the very antithesis of "direct." The whole point of the variation is to force the leader to traverse to the right for fifteento twenty feet out of the way, over aterrifying drop, with slippery hands and no real footholds to speak of.



I first attempted this pitch in . Before I got to the Direct finish, I led Sente, onsight, to start the climb. This wasmy first 5.9 lead ever, which made me very proud. Then I joined Thin Slabs up to the GT Ledge and promptly got thoroughly humbled by Thin Slabs Direct. I remember being so pumped as I attempted it. Ifound itvery difficult to let go with one hand long enough to clip the three ancient pitons that line the traverse; forget about even attempting to place my own gear. Eventually, after going out and back a few times and taking a hang in the middle,I got to the end of the traverse and managed to pull my body inelegantly onto the shelf on the main face of the cliff. Lying there on the shelf, I was grateful I had survived the climb, but I knew it was no victory.



I wrote a little self-deprecatingpieceabout the experience at the time on Gunks.com (see my post at the bottom of the page). Until last Friday I hadn't been back.



And this time, climbing Thin Slabs Direct felt... well... tough for 5.7, that's for sure. And it was still scary, there's no doubt about that. But mostlyclimbing it againmade me realize how much I've improved. If you hang off that shelf in justthe right way it isn't so pumpy. There are footholds to be found, they just aren't very big.And ifyou turn your body sideways, just so,your feet can really help you, and the clipping isn't so hard. A little technique will get you there.



This time, once I committed to the traverse I moved right through it, coming around the corner without a hitch. It was a great way to end the day, and it nearly erased the bad feelings I got from pitch one of Anguish.



But still, after it was over, there was no escaping one conclusion: Thin Slabs, with both variations, isafreaking HARD 5.7. I mean really, what is it with those Gunks sevens?

No More Tears: Clear Glasses for Winter

One of my biggest problems cycling in the winter used to be my eyes tearing up. It would get so bad, that the constant flow of tears would blur my vision, making it hard to see where I was going. But like many cyclists, I soon found the solution: clear glasses or goggles.




On moderately cold and windy days, I wear simple resin glasses that I am very happy with. They are unbranded, so I don't have an online source to refer you to, but many bike shops around here sell them at the counter. I bought mine from the Wheelworks, for around $20. What I like about these particular glasses is how comfortable they are, even on long rides. They sit sturdy, but are lightweight and don't press into my face or temples. The lenses are durable and the clarity is good.




On particularly freezing days with harsh winds, I wear these wrap-around safety glasses from MSA. They cost only $4 and perform double duty as shop safety glasses for framebuilding. The MSA glasses are wonderful for creating a seal from the cold, keeping my eyes warm and dry and the sensitive skin around them protected. An additional benefit for those who wear prescription glasses, is that these can be worn over them. The downside is that they are on the heavy side, and if I wear them for too long they give me a headache - so watch out, if you have issues with that. But for short rides they are excellent, and on days that are cold enough to necessitate them my rides are on the short side anyway.




If you prefer the high-end route, I've tried and really liked the clear version of the new Lazer Argon glasses. These are in the $80-90 range and come with interchangeable lenses, which can be replaced with tinted ones. Oakley, Rudy Project, and most other athletic sunglass manufacturers also make clear or photochromic versions of many models.




While some cyclists like to wear goggles, I am not a fan: They snag my hair and don't seem to stay put as well as regular glasses if I wear them on the bike. I find that the MSA safety glasses provide the same coverage but with less fuss.




There are many inexpensive options out there for clear goggles and glasses, so try a few and see what works. And if you need more coverage? Well, a few days ago I saw a man cycling with a clear face shield. Perhaps a new fashion trend in winter cycling.

15 Years Under the Chaincase

With a blizzard raging outside, what better way to spend an evening than working on bikes? The Co-Habitant agreed to help with my Gazelle (and by "help" I mean "do most of the work"),in exchange for which I prepared lavish portions of a dish that is sort of a cross between French Toast and a Croque Monsieur - only larger, fluffier, more generous on the cheese, and with some secret herbs that make it special. He likes my cooking, I like his mechanics: win-win!

Though I bought new tires for my Gazelle months ago, we had been procrastinating with their installation, as it required dealing with the formidable chaincase. Removing it seemed complicated. And who knew what was under there after all these years?



TheGazelle'schaincase is a vinyl casing that is stretched over a metal support structure.It is clipped and fastened at several attachment points - including an amazing system of clasps along the bottom, the likes of which we have never seen before. I am not certain how closely the current-production Gazelle chaincase resembles the one on my 15-year-old A-Touren model, but mine was not exactly easy to remove and install - not a project for beginners at least.



Once removed, this is what was inside. It's entirely possible that the drivetrain has not been worked on since the bicycle was first purchased by the original owner. The metal structure supporting the vinyl casing was covered in surface rust, as were parts of the chain itself. But otherwise, there were no apparent problems. These bicycles were built to be used and abused for years without any need for maintenance.

We were disappointed to see that the chainring did not have little gazelles carved into it like the older ones did. But I suppose that would be too much to expect from a '90s model. The metal chaincase support structure disassembles into several parts - allowing the rear portion to be removed without taking the whole thing apart.

The main chaincase attachment bolt is on the chainstay - a more secure method than attaching chaincases or chainguards to the bottom bracket. Another point of attachment rests on the rear axle. While more difficult to tinker with, the benefit of the vinyl chaincase design, is that it is less likely to rub or knock against the chain. It also weighs less than plastic or metal chaincases - though somehow I doubt that was a concern for the makers of Gazelle.

The Co-Habitant was thoroughly impressed by the design of the GazelleA-Touren's rear triangle, and believes it to be a better (more integrated) system than that of the vintage Raleigh DL-1 or of the modern Pashley.

Everything on the Gazelle fits together just so, as if the parts were all custom-made for each other. And once the chainguard is off, the fork ends are cut in such a way, so as to facilitate wheel removal. The 28" wheels with the stainless steel rims weigh a ton.

The routing of the tail light is entirely internal: The wiring comes out of the chainstay right next to the fork-end, and snakes along the inside of the rear fender invisibly. These are the kinds of design elements that make this bicycle a fully integrated system - almost an organism - that experiences very few problems. There are fewer things to shake loose, break, or fall out of adjustment, which is what makes it so low maintenance.

I know that some enthusiasts would have next taken the whole bike apart, scrubbed off the rust, polished the frame and components, and put it back together - but we prefer to let functional bikes be. Having checked the drivetrain, none of the components seemed to be any worse for wear despite some cosmetic degradation, so we just cleaned them up a bit, greased everything, adjusted the brakes and shifter, and closed the whole thing back up. I will replace the chain soon just in case, but that is about it. Changing the tires on this bike was easy, and the cracked originals are now replaced with newSchwalbe Delta Cruisers. We also removed the vinyl dressguards and are replacing them with something more personalised. The snow continues today, but by the time it is over the winterised Gazelle will hopefully be ready for her test-ride. Working on this bicycle has made us both appreciate just how well it was built. I know that the current-productionGazelles differ in the way they are constructed, but I hope that they retained at least some of the ingenuity of the original design.

Navigating the World of Clipless Pedals

Last summer I wrote about trying to ride clipless and failing. Unfortunately, not much has changed since then. For background, I do ride my roadbike with foot retention: I use Power Grips, adjusted as snugly as possible. They bind my feet to the pedals effectively while still being extremely easy to get out of. Sure, they don't exactly look "pro," but they get the job done and anyone who thinks otherwise has probably never tried them. Still, it bothers me that I just can't master riding clipless after all this time, while others have no trouble with this skill at all. This year I was determined to get to the bottom of what makes it so hard for me.





My first step was to start from scratch. Last year, the Co-Habitant gave me his old clipless pedals (Shimano M520) and I used those by default. I got as far as being able to ride around the block gingerly, but ultimately just wasn't comfortable with it. Later more than a couple of women told me that they hate these pedals and cannot use them either, and that what I should really do is go to a bike shop and try as many different pedals as possible. I didn't know you could do that, but apparently some bike shops offer this service. Since I spend a lot of time at the Ride Studio Cafe as it is, I arranged with them for a fitting. They have a trainer in the back room where you can set up either your own bike or one of their demo bikes, and they have a variety of clipless shoes and pedals to try.






To ride clipless, you have to buy a set of pedals, which are sold with cleats, and a pair of compatible shoes. The cleats that are purchased with the pedals are then attached to the shoes. There are many brands of these pedal/cleat systems, and they are generally classified into road (SPD-SL) vs mountain (SPD) - a little misleading, since in practice both are frequently used by roadcyclists. The mountain bike system (left) features small cleats with 2 attachment points. Notice also that on the shoe, the part where the cleat goes is recessed, so that when off the bike you walk on the sole and not on the cleat itself. The road system (right) features larger cleats with 3 (or 4) attachment points. And the shoe is not recessed, so that when off the bike you actually walk on the cleat (this is why roadies make those click-clacking noises on pavement). As it is explained to me, the benefit of the road system is that more of your foot is attached to the pedal. The benefit ofthemountain system is that it is easier to walk off the bike.





Popular road-compatible systems include Look, Shimano, Time and Speedplay, all shown here. The former 3 are near-identical, but the Speedplays (the smaller pedal on top) are a little different in shape and attachment style (also they are double-sided, whereas the other road pedals are one-sided). I did not bother trying these, because nearly everyone I know who uses them seems to have problems. But I tried the Shimano and Look SPD-SL, and I liked them both. The clipping mechanism felt very different than that of the (SPD) Shimano M520s I was practicing with last year. For me at least, it felt much easier to clip and unclip with the road pedals; the mechanism did not feel clunky or death-grippy. With the SPD cleats last year, even on the weakest setting I felt as if I were stomping on the pedal with all my might to clip in and jerking the bike sideways in order to unclip. With the road system, the mechanism on the pedal felt as if it grabbed the cleat without much effort on my part, and I could also unclip fairly easily. On the downside, I found the road shoes slippery to walk in, which made me nervous. A number of people I ride with discouraged me from going with the road system for this very reason.






Having already tried the typical Shimano SPDs and determined that I did not like them as much as the SPD-SL, the one system left to try was Crank Brothers. This is technically a mountain bike system, and the cleat looks very similar to SPD cleats. However, the pedals are 4-sided and use a different mechanism. I had hope for these pedals, because those who use them report that they are very easy to clip in and out of compared to the other mountain systems. I tried them, and I agree. The mechanism engages and releases very easily, and I know that I will be able to practice with these without the "what if I can't unclip?!" anxiety. The model pictured here is the Egg Beaters, but I ordered the Candys - which are the same, except with a platform. I wanted the platform version, because I do not like the feel of tiny pedals and want more support for my foot. I think the platform will also make it easier for my foot to locate the binding mechanism, before that part becomes intuitive.




It is yet to be determined whether I'll be able to master clipless, but I have a feeling that if I can do it at all then I'll be able to do it with these Crank Brothers. My biggest problem so far has been fear over the effort of unclipping, which should no longer be an issue with these. I will keep you posted on future progress or lack thereof. But for any beginners reading this, I encourage you to visit a bike shop that specialises in this stuff and talk to them, try different pedal/cleat combinations and see how they feel - as opposed to struggling with a system just because a spouse or a friend uses it.

Please, Do Your Family a Favor...

My Mother passed away last week (Tuesday, February 15th) and due to her foresight and thoughtfulness, the days following her death were somewhat less stressful than they might have been.



You see, back in January of 1999 Mom planned her own funeral, decided where she was going to be buried, selected the grave marker – and paid for it all!



She purchased the cemetery plot and grave marker outright and got an “insurance policy” to pay for the funeral services. Premiums were paid for three years and guaranteed the cost. She also discussed those arrangements with me, so I knew what she wanted.



She had selected only one song for the service so we chose several more that we knew she liked. The only things that were left to decide and pay for were the flowers for the casket, the funeral cards, thank you notes, and the obituary notices.



The other thing that Mom did that made our decision for us when the time came, was that she discussed her wishes in regards to “heroic measures” or life support in the event that she became terminally ill. It was a heart-wrenching decision that was by no means easy, but essentially one that she had made and we were bound to honor that decision.



Last November, Apple wrote about the process she went through in pre-planning her Mother's funeral as well as selecting a burial site and grave marker. Tough decisions were made and it was stressful, but imagine having to make those decisions in a very short period of time and under even more stressful conditions.



It is definitely not an easy task, but one which your family will forever be grateful. So, if you can, get your funeral planned. At the very least, discuss your wishes with your family. And, if at all possible get it paid for. Now.



Thank you, Mom, for this gift that you gave us.





Mom was cremated and the cremains were buried in the plot shared with her sister at Lakeview Cemetery, Larwill, Indiana. Mom selected a bench marker so that we might have a place to sit when visiting her.

What Tan Lines?

thanks to PL for the leg modeling!

This summer I've received some emails from readers asking for suggestions on how to get rid of tan lines from bicycle shorts. The women I ride with sometimes discuss this as well. Some say they actively try to cultivate cycling tan lines, seeing them as a source of pride and part of their identity as road cyclists. Others say they dislike tan lines, because they look unflattering when wearing skirts and bathing suits. For me, it's more about the attention they generate and feeling branded: I've had stares and questions from cyclists and non-cyclists alike that I'd rather avoid.




For those who do not wish to cultivate obvious cycling tan lines, one solution is to alternate bicycle shorts of different lengths. Assuming that you are not a racer who is required to ride in a specific kit, yet ride often enough to justify owning more than one pair of shorts, this method works pretty well. I now own three pairs of shorts, each from a different manufacturer: One hits just above the knee, the other half way up the thigh, and the third somewhere in between. I make sure to rotate them, while also doing my best to regularly apply sun screen. The result is a very gradual colour-fade from the knees up instead of a harsh tan line. The leg model above is sporting a similar look, though a little more crisp than mine.




If you've already got the tan lines and need to quickly get rid of them (say, for an event), try makeup. Buy liquid makeup in a shade that matches the tanned area and apply it to the untanned part - reducing the density as you move upward. A friend of mine did this when she had to wear a short bridesmaid's dress (the bride said the tan lines would ruin her wedding photos). It works, though will smear on the underside of your hem a bit. Spray tan would also work if you need the effect to last longer, though makeup tends to look more natural.




What's your take on tan lines from cycling shorts? Are you bothered by them, pleased by them, or does it not matter? I admit that I've identified other cyclists by their tan lines... though I try not to stare!

Tracing the Tangles

In theory, cycling on Cape Ann - with itsmiles of rocky beaches and its quaint villages - should be idyllic. In practice, it is all main roads, devoid of shade and dense with traffic, along a largely hypothetical coastline. The water views are obscured by developments and the sea is strangely scentless much of the time. Add to that the crater-sized potholes, the unyielding drivers, and the mosquitos immune to insect repellant - and frankly I don't find it so idyllic at all.



But stubbornly I persist: the same old 45 rolling miles, from Rockport to Ipswich and back. There is exactly one stretch of backroad along my route, and I anticipate it as one might anticipate a tart fruity filling in an otherwise bland pie.



There is only one stretch of backroad, but this stretch has a little of everything: climbing, quiet, overhanging trees, wooden bridges over saltwater marshes. And the part I look forward to most are the twists. The narrow road loops abruptly to the left, then to the right, then to the left again, then - who knows. It twists haphazardly - not so much a series of hairpins, as a mess of tangles.



As a young girl I once found a stray length of golden chain in my grandmother's garden.It was thin and delicate, the kind of chain meant to be worn with a pendant. But now it was dirty and torn and missing a clasp - not really of use to anyone.I remember standing there and spilling it back and forth from one hand to the other, fascinated by the curves and tangles it made each time it settled on my palm. I would trace the tangles with my eyes and it was an act of meditation.



This memory comes out of nowhere as I now trace the twists of the road on my bike. Or rather, it is the bike that traces them. I merely hang on and take it all in, savoring the experience. The bike leans dramatically left, then right, then left, then ...who knows. And I relax and lose myself in the meditative feel of it, my hands keeping clear of the brakes. I can't tell you how I finally learned to corner. It just happened one day. It emerged from a tangle of experiences, memories, emotions.

On Living Locally and Seeking Continuity

I was having a political discussion with a friend over email, and in response to something I wrote he replied: "You know, it's really starting to show that you haven't been out of the US in almost a year." Ouch... But the "insult" aside, I realised he was correct: I haven't been out of the country since last July, which is unusual for me. Moreover, we have been without a car since December, making our travel radius limited to cycleable distances. Without explicitly being aware of it, I have transitioned from living "globally" to living "locally," and my friend's insinuation was that this has made me narrow-minded and provincial. Has it? I think not, but I also realise that I don't really care. My quality of life has improved as a result of the changes I've made since last year, and that's difficult to argue with.



We could go on forever debating the "moral" and "social responsibility" implications of living locally vs globally. On the one hand, those who lead lifestyles that rely on air travel are doing a great deal of damage to the environment. On the other hand, one could argue that some international jobs are "important" in their contribution to society, and the scale of this contribution outweighs the degree of environmental damage. But the trouble with these arguments, is that they inevitably lead us to a slippery slope. Who determines what's important? Who has the right to pass that judgment on others, and using what criteria? Are UN workers "good," but fashion reporters "evil"? Is it "wrong to endanger the environment" by traveling to Shanghai just for fun, or is that outweighed by the positive effect of experiencing another culture, growing more tolerant and open-minded as a result? Impossible to say, without imposing our subjective sense of logic on others' sovereignty, which is not something I wish to do.



But the issue of living locally vs globally has personal, psychological implications as well, and these have been on my mind lately. I have an unusual personal history, and have basically never lived in any one place for more than several years at a time. As a result, my life has been fragmented and unstable, which I do not feel is ultimately good for me.When I remember things from my past, I sometimes get confused about the location of an event, and even about the language that was spoken.With my friends, relatives, experiences and memories scattered all over the world, it is difficult to maintain a sense of continuity and even a coherent sense of self. Forming healthy attachments to new people and places is challenging, and replacing the physical reality of personal interaction with virtual communications is isolating.



As we lose our sense of "continuous living," our notions of contact grow increasingly abstract - and not just contact with other people, but contact with our surroundings.I remember a post by Dottie at Let's Go Ride a Bike some time ago, where she describes the lifestyle of her family in the North Carolina suburbs as "traveling from pod to pod." The home is a pod. The workplace is another pod. The restaurant, also a pod. And because of the vast, highway-navigated distances between each, there is no clear sense of what happens in between; it is kind of a dead space, almost a virtual space. I found this imagery to be both frightening and relatable - a reflection of my own anxieties about what our lifestyles are doing to the way we connect with the physical world.



I thought that I might feel limited and stir-crazy once I stopped traveling abroad, and even more so once we began living without a car. Instead I am feeling as if some long-neglected human aspect of me is waking up. Living locally and all that it entails - seeing the same people, experiencing the change of seasons while staying put, and developing a feel for manageable distances - is giving me a sense of continuity that I have been lacking.

Color

Talking of the depressingly drap desert colors we have now makes me want to try and hurry spring along. We had a couple of days of 55 and 60 degree weather that always makes me want to get out and start the gardening. In my back yard, away from the horses where they can't eat them, I always grow lots of easy to care for flowers and a few tomatoes each summer. This photo is of our wild four-o-clock. I have put so many mundane photos on with no bright colors lately, I though it was time to do so. These are native here and, although hard to transplant, if you can get one going it will take the place. They are usually only about a foot tall but will spread out and cover as much as 12 square feet in a summer. Then they die back in the fall and you can't even be sure where the plant was after you get rid of the dead vine and leaves. All summer, from late June until the first hard freeze, each evening, as the sun desends toward the west at about four-o-clock, (that is why it is named that) the plant opens its hundreds of purple flowers and purfumes the air with a wonderful sent.

Mt. Stuart, West Ridge

We finally climbed the West Ridge of Mt. Stuart. It ended up being our last big climb of the year. Mark and Doug were the only two climbers. Since it was going to be a one day climb, we got up early and left Yakima at 3:00am and hit the trail at 5:00am. Our plan was to go light and fast. To accomplish this we decided to climb it without a rope. The forecast was good, so we were able to go light on clothing too. We made good time up to Ingalls Pass and then on to Ingalls Lake. After the lake we walked up a ridge and across a rockslide to get to the base of the climb.


We started climbing at 8:00am. The going was real easy and fun. My daughters would have had a ball climbing this lower section.








Glacier Peak in the background.













The West Ridge.














It turned out that we would not have used a rope if we had one. Most of the climbing was real easy. There were only two short sections that required any rock climbing skill and these were in safe areas.
We made it to the top at 11:00am in perfect weather. After spending about an hour there, we started the long descent, followed by the ascent up to Longs Pass and the descent to the parking lot. We got back to the car at 3:30pm and home in time for dinner. Thanks Mark, for leading the funnest rock climb I have ever done. I especially enjoyed the freedom of going light and only carrying items that we knew we would use. It was a great day exploring a special part of God's creation. Chalk up another one for Foursquare Mountaineering!