The Catharsis of Seasonal Change

"It's over. Step away from the roadbike" I said to myself as gently as possible while watching the snow from the window. I was going to publish this over the weekend and title the post "The End." But then I decided that was far too dramatic, and that when titles like this come to mind the prudent thing to do is take a couple of days off from the blog. It's snow for goodness sake, not the end of the world. In fact, it is quite beautiful.And in retrospect I see that it has been cathartic - a resolution to a state of uncertainty.





After a productive and well-organised December I naïvely expected to keep going at the same rate in the new year. But January started out slow and difficult, and only grew more so as the weeks wore on. After the holidays there was suddenly a pile of work due all at once, which is a situation I never handle well. And the move to the new art studio proved more effortful to organise than I anticipated (How did I accumulate so many jars of congealed ...stuff? why do I never throw anything away? and why did I need such enormous canvases, and so many of them??). In the midst of this we had a special occasion to celebrate, and some financial decisions to make. My immune system kept faltering. I felt as if I were moving in slow motion while everything else spun around me faster and faster.







It took me a while to connect this unsettled, disorganised state of mind to a decrease in cycling. Soon after the holidays the roads had turned icy, so I hadn't been riding as much as during the previous month. Of course! I was coming down from a long endorphin high, and not in the midst of an existential crisis. What made it worse, was that since it hadn't started snowing yet, I kept thinking that I could/should be cycling. I kept waiting for the idyl of December to return, not willing to put my bike on the trainer just yet, stuck in limbo.






With the snow's arrival, the limbo finally ended and things became more clear-cut: "Right then. Bike on the trainer and you are done for the season. Now stop checking the weather obsessively, ride indoors while watching all the movies you've been meaning to catch up on,and get on with your life!" (Is it a bad sign when the snow speaks to you? No, no, don't answer that...)






This might sound strange coming from someone with a daily blog about bicycles, but I tend to downplay the importance of cycling in my "real" life, particularly roadcycling. It is my anti-athletic, anti-"jock" bias - a holdover from my teenage days as the angsty weird arty girl, for whom jocks were the enemy. Not very open-minded of me to carry that over, but at least I admit it. Cycling, important? Oh no, it means nothing to me compared to things like art and (real, not bloggery) writing. Oh this little blog? It's just some light-hearted stress relief. Hours a day in the saddle? It's just physical activity; it means nothing.But of course it can't possibly mean nothing. I need to admit to myself that cycling is important to me and that it integrates with the rest of my life whether I want to acknowledge it or not. Likewise, when I drastically decrease my time on the bike it will impact other aspects of my life. It will affect my mood, creativity and productivity. I was going through withdrawal, plain and simple.






The human mind is a funny thing, and once I became aware of all this, I felt better. Swiftly, we got me all moved into the new studio - thanks to the Co-Habitant's formidable lifting prowess and a magnificent zipcar pick-up truck. I even got a workout from carrying stuff up and down 3 flights of stairs, as the freight elevator in the building is not operational over the weekend. My calves are still hurting today from all that stair-climbing and it feels kind of nice. Maybe I should do this for fun in addition to walking and riding on the trainer, and all together that might keep me in shape till spring. Of course I could also cycle inside the studio(as demonstrated by the lovelybikeyface). Indoor mini-velodrome à laInterbike ?






As I write this, the heaps of snow are already half-gone and temperatures are mild again. It is possible that the roads will clear up completely and we will have a continuation of our mild winter. But I am going to take a break from roadcycling anyhow, because all the back-and-forth and the increasing concerns about icy roads on descents are making me way too neurotic and it's time to stop. Of course, transportation cycling continues as usual. Seasonal change is good, winter is beautiful, and finally I feel that the year is off to a good start. Now, could somebody please tell me what those purple berries are?..

Clermont FL to Summerton SC

Today was Aric's first official travel day. I think I was more excited than he was about that. We drove from Clermont to Summerton, South Carolina. We are staying at a very nice ROD park. Since we had a somewhat long driving day, we ate dinner at Cracker Barrel.

It is so nice to be back on the road again!

Ingalls Peak

It was like a garden between Ingalls Pass and Ingalls lake. Danielle wants to live there.











The mountain goats were pretty friendly.













Snow on the edge of Ingalls Lake.

Dani exploring the shoreline. Mt. Stuart in the background.












Climbing Mt. Ingalls, North Peak.















Dave, Nicholas, Mark, Mike (and Doug) on the summit.














Nicholas rappelling down.









Ingalls Lake and Mt. Stuart as seen from Ingalls South Peak.

Hartington to Dovedale ,via Thorpe Cloud

With Maureen, Barry and Gordon. Eddie, in spite of his back, climbed Thorpe Cloud, but not via the path. Glorious weather. 8.5 miles for the whole thing.



The start of the walk is in Hartington, at the side of the public toilets, on the Hulme End side of, and across the road from, the Charles Cotton Hotel.





The walk is clearly marked at the start, and once you arrive in Beresford Dale it is simply a matter of walking the well-worn path beside the river.

You go through a section of youngish woodland, Morson Wood, which was planted by Les Morson and family in 1994. The plaque with this information was presented by the 1998 Hartington Sports Committee in memory of Les. My photo was out of focus, hence this paragraph.



As we walked along there were several footbridges over the Dove, some leading to footpaths, some to private land. Wonderful names like " Frank-i-th-rocks bridge" and "Gipsy Bank bridge". Scenery delightful - mainly wooded slopes and grassland.



Just before the villlage of Milldale we came to a bridge over the river - the road to Alstonfield goes uphill to the right and the Milldale road carries straight on.







We took the Milldale road, which has a footpath alongside, and goes closer to the river for a short time. We decided to take a break at Milldale and support the local shop - always a welcome oasis for hungry and thirsty walkers. Even after last night's meal, a couple of cheese and onion sandwiches went down rather well. Okay, we had had breakfast as well, but we had walked almost five miles and there were more ahead.



After Milldale, Dovedale begins to show its "little Switzerland" side, with the limestone rocks and more dramatic scenery. The Dove Holes caves, Ilam Rock, Tissington Spires, Lion's Head Rock, Reynard's Cave, up a bit to Lovers Leap and down and onward to the Stepping Stones.

A heron perched very high above the river

Decision time - who's up for Thorpe Cloud? A trickier ascent than I remember, and worse going down. A dreadful path but worth it for the sense of achievement and the views.

We conquer the Cloud

All that remained was an essential dipping of my bare feet into the river, a welcome cereal bar provided by Maureen, and the half mile or so saunter to the car park. One last ice-cream and we headed for home.

This poster is in fact of Millers Dale (not Dovedale or Milldale).

- the elevation profile of this walk is interesting. Compare to yesterday's walk as well. Even Thorpe Cloud summit is lower than the walk we did along the Tissington and High Peak Trails!



Dry stone Walls in Derbyshire- a brief history of the walls and enclosures in the county.

Uber-follies: No Picnic (5.5), Shit or Go Blind (5.8), Fancy Idiot (5.6) & More!

My partner Liz and I were in the Gunks on a Tuesday, and the place was practically deserted. Flipping through the guidebook, Liz made an observation.



"There sure are a lot of starred climbs in the Uberfall area that we never do."



It was true. I usually speed through the Uberfall as fast as I can to get away from the crowds. But Dick Williams gives stars to a whole bunch of climbs right at the start of the Trapps, and some of these never seem to be occupied, even on crowded weekends.



I've had mixed experiences with the routes I have tried in this part of the cliff.



I hated Handy Andy (5.7), to name one example. This climb sits right where the carriage road makes the turn that puts you at the left edge of the long wall that is the Trapps. I led Handy Andy a couple years ago, at the end of a long climbing day. I'd wanted to do it because it looked improbable. From the road, the face climbing past two old pins looked totally smooth and blank. When I actually climbed it, I thought the holds were thin, for sure, but the real problem was the pro. You're stuck with the old pins and nothing else for several moves, which isn't exactly ideal. What's worse, since you start the route by climbing in sideways, I always felt like I was about to hit the deck. The routine was: make an unprotected move, clip a pin, then make another move sideways and feel like you're in groundfall range. Rinse and repeat.



I got my hands up to the first real horizontal above the pins and threw a cam in, then scampered up to the next stance. And then on the lower-angled bit to the top I felt like there wasn't any good pro and that I was once again entering ground-fall range. I told myself I was never leading that climb again, although in retrospect it doesn't seem so bad. I could see myself getting psyched up to do it at the end of another long climbing day.



I have a similar distaste for Laurel (5.7), one of the Gunks' most popular routes. Laurel was once rated 5.6, but the start has gotten so polished over the years that the first few moves seem significantly harder than that. The current 5.7 rating is Dick Williams' concession that the bottom part of the climb has changed, but in my opinion he didn't go far enough. It is probably much harder than 5.7, if only for one or two moves. I have successfully climbed the route on toprope a couple times. I can't say I found it particularly memorable or worth the trouble.



One day last year I decided, for some reason, to lead it for the first time. I made the first move up to the slick but sizable foothold. Then I tried to put some pro in the pin scar over my head, so the next slippery move would be protected. I wormed a C3 into the pin scar, but I wasn't happy with it. I thought the placement was marginal, but it seemed this was all I was going to get.



I could see the good hold, not too far out of reach. I just needed to make one step up and grab it, and the rest of the climb would be a cruise.



Of course, I blew the move and fell.



The marginal cam held for half a second, then popped, hitting me in the helmet. Then my ass hit the ground.



Yes, that's right, I decked from three feet up on Laurel.



I started to get to my feet when a stranger appeared out of nowhere, saying "Whoa! Whoa! Don't move, let me check you out!"



I started to reassure this guy that I was fine, but then I decided he was right. Who knows, I figured, maybe I broke my spine during the stupidest lead fall in the history of the world. I shouldn't compound the humiliation of the moment by arrogantly jumping to my feet and ensuring my total paralysis.



So I waited as the stranger waved his hands over me and otherwise determined that I was intact. After this inspection he told me my gear was the problem. He said I'd blocked a necessary handhold by placing a bad cam in the pin scar, and that a micronut would've worked there. I'm sure he was right, but I didn't try it out. I decided instead that I was NEVER climbing stupid Laurel again.



Not all the climbs in the Uberfall are stinkers. Some are three-star classics, worthy of all the accolades. I love many of these climbs, including Horseman (best 5.5 in the Gunks), Apoplexy (my new favorite!), Retribution (which I will some day lead), Bunny (great 5.4 or one-move 5.6), and others.



And some of the less heralded, one-star climbs in the Uberfall area are quite nice, like Black Fly (5.5), Nice Crack Climb (5.7), and Nice 5.9 Climb, all of which sit just right of Handy Andy. Black Fly was one of my first leads, several years ago. It has nice casual climbing up to the right-angling crux crack, which takes great pro. It is a wonderful easy lead. Nice Crack Climb next door has a short 5.7 crux, and then more casual climbing up to the same slanting crack. And Nice 5.9 Climb has two good cruxes, the first of which I found a little tricky on toprope last year. I couldn't make the stand-up move at the overlap; it took me several tries, but finally I got my weight over it just right and it seemed preposterously easy.



So the other Tuesday we decided to try a few more one-star Uberfall climbs. We started our day with No Picnic (5.5) and Shit or Go Blind (5.8), which are tucked away just left of the Gerdie Block.





(Beta Photo: No Picnic (5.5))



Dick says that No Picnic has some sandy holds. I thought it was actually quite clean. Maybe a touch of grittiness at the crux overhang, but nothing worth complaining about. The climbing is nice and reasonable. Up an easy slab without much pro to the obvious left-facing corner, where good pro appears. At the top of the corner move right to a spot beneath a crack that runs through the overhang. Crank up over the overhang and say to yourself: this is 5.5? Then easy face climbing, pretty much straight up, staying left of and avoiding another overhang, brings you to the belay tree, which as of this writing has a burly steel cable around it with rap rings.



No Picnic is a pleasant warm-up climb. Good rock, quality climbing, and fine protection except for the first few moves.





(Beta Photo: Shit or Go Blind (5.8))



Shit or Go Blind offers more nice clean climbing, with two good little cruxes, both soft for 5.8 in my opinion.



The climb starts a bit low-angled, without much pro for the opening moves, just like its neighbor No Picnic. There's great protection for the rest of the way. Once past the opening face, you climb into a shallow open book and up to an overhang. The first crux comes as you traverse left through an overhanging section, and then up and over the roof, about five feet to the right of where No Picnic goes over it. I remember a pin in this part of the climb, but Dick says the second roof has the pin. Even if I'm wrong about the pin, I remember placing at least two cams in this section; I felt very well protected. And the holds are great, it's just a little pumpy.



Pretty straightforward climbing leads to a second roof, which is again surmounted using great holds and a strong move up, with good pro and apparently a pin that I've forgotten. Trend left above the roof to join No Picnic just below the belay tree.



Nothing spectacular to see here. But Shit or Go Blind is another perfectly pleasant climb; not a waste of time at all. Good moves, good rock, convenient and easy to approach and descend from.





(Photo: Looking down through the bushes from the top of pitch two of Fancy Idiot)



Later in the day we were looking for a climb to do on the way back to the parking lot. Looking over Dick's guide we considered a couple Uberfall one-stars. At first I was thinking about Eyebrow (5.6). But as I surveyed the cliff, searching for the line, I couldn't tell where it went through the upper roofs.



Then my attention turned to Fancy Idiot (5.6), which starts just left of Bunny. I could see where both pitches went. I spied the pins on pitch one, and I could see the second pitch's obvious corner. Seemed like a reasonable enough choice.



"I didn't know there was a climb here next to Bunny," Liz said. I guess I never really did either.



So we racked up and did it. And I'll cut to the chase here and say I basically think Fancy Idiot is a waste of time. I'm not sorry I did it once, but I'll probably never do it again.



The most worthwhile parts of pitch one occur in the first 25 feet or so. Up the face left of Bunny, the climb ascends a shallow right-facing corner that is crescent-shaped (fixed pin). Getting established in this corner was surprisingly challenging for me; it requires a couple interesting moves.



After the crescent-shaped crack a huge ledge is reached. Here look for another pin above and a little to the left-- I also found a crack for pro off to the right, which was easy to make use of with my double ropes. One more thin face move takes you up past the pin to easier moves and another ledge.



Once atop this second ledge, the worthwhile climbing is over, but the pitch continues. I elected to keep going up a little right (passing a disturbingly small tree with slings around it) and then left, traversing towards another, larger tree growing at a severe angle out of a precariously stacked pile of blocks. I kept moving towards this second tree because I believed it to be the belay tree at the base of the pitch two corner mentioned in Dick's guide. But the closer I got to this tree the less I wanted to have anything to do with it. It looked like even stepping on the blocks around the tree might send the whole pile down into the gully to the right of the Gerdie Block. So I stopped at the base of the big left-facing corner, built a gear belay in some suspect flakes, and brought Liz up.



Once she got to the top of the pitch, we debated what to do next. We could traverse to the right and join Bunny to its belay tree. Or we could traverse left and walk across to the top of the Gerdie Block, and then rappel or scramble down the other side. Or we could do pitch two of Fancy Idiot, to the top of the cliff. This 5.4 pitch looked simple enough, if a little dirty and overgrown. I figured I could lead it in about five minutes. So we decided to keep climbing. What the heck, why not?



I will say this in favor of pitch two of Fancy Idiot: it is surprising how much of an adventure experience you can find right on top of the Gerdie Block and just to the left of Bunny, Retribution and Nosedive. Surrounded by these immensely popular climbs, you suddenly find yourself fighting through bushes, lichen, and dirty ledges to the top of the cliff. I felt like we were the first pair to traipse through this territory in quite a while.



The climbing was actually more interesting than I expected. The face to the left of the big corner is pretty blank, and blocks and flakes in the corner are often necessary tools for advancement. The problem with these blocks and flakes, however, is that many of them are loose.



If the crappy rock quality were not an issue, I might actually say pitch two of Fancy Idiot is worth the trouble in spite of the bushwhacking nature of the pitch. As things are, however, I think it isn't worth it. Fancy Idiot doesn't deserve the single star that Dick gave it. Don't bother.

Mesa Verde :: Spruce Tree House

The third cliff dwelling that I visited while at Mesa Verde was Spruce Tree House, which does not require a ticket as it is a self-guided tour. Rangers are on-site at all times to answer questions and keep and eye on visitors.

It is the third largest of the cliff dwellings and contains about 130 rooms and 8 kivas (kee-vahs) built into a natural alcove 216 feet wide at its greatest width and 89 feet at its greatest depth. It is thought to have been home for about 60 to 80 people.



The black areas on the underside of the rock were caused by smoke from the fires they used to cook with and keep warm.

Sunrise Over Kachemak Bay

After nearly a week of on-again, off-again rain, Saturday morning (August 14th) promised something different. We had hoped for a day without rain and it started out with a little bit of sunshine! And lots of clouds.

One of the larger boats in the harbor.
Two early risers getting in some fishing time.
The sun makes it up over the top of the mountains.
The fishing boats were heading out. A light breeze was blowing and the seas were fairly calm.

After these boats hooked up together they turned around and headed for open waters. The wave in front of them was caused by another passing boat.

Quiet Winter Mornings

Riding a comfy fixed gear roadbike on a crisp December day, I realise that I know few better ways to achieve the feeling of all being right with the world. Something about the rhythmic motion of my legs and that perfect "wheels go round and round" sensation of fixed gear, just seems to make my body happy. I don't ride very fast and Mercy Anne is an even-tempered bike; a bike that does not demand I push myself but is happy to adjust to my mood.

I have been trying to get into the habit of riding earlier in the morning. There is almost no traffic getting out of town, and for a little while I enjoy the illusion that the streets belong to me. The sun shines weakly at first. The frost on the grass casts a bluish tint over the landscape. It is freezing and I can see my breath in front of me. I try to keep my mouth closed as I breathe. My eyes are tearing up and I remind myself to wear sunglasses next time. I wear two layers of medium-weight technical wool and a windproof jacket, finally having "gotten" how to dress for winter after 2 years. Still, brrr!

And then, almost all at once, it feels as if nature turns up the thermostat. Is it me, having gotten warmed up, or has it actually grown warmer? I look and suddenly there is no more frost on the grass. Probably a bit of both. The sun has risen higher now, and shines a warm yellow. It is almost 9 in the morning. Time to head home .

Bradford Pear Tree Blossoms

My little trees did real good this year. I guess it means that spring is here. The White blossoms are of my Bradford Pear Tree and pink flowers are of my peach tree.

Getting schooled in Chamonix.

Intitial gully of the Burnier-Vogler, N. Face of the Midi, yesterday.





A year ago while climbing in the Rockies, myclimbing partnerasked, "Where would you go to learn "alpine climbing"?



My quick answer was Chamonix. Every good alpine climber that I have admired over the years has spent some time here. And I have always thought that what they learned here was a major influence on their climbing careers.



I've been here 12 days. In that time we've had 40cm of snow, in two dumps. And as much as I know alpine climbing is all about conditions, I've generally ignored that and climbed anyway. Wallowing in cold dry snow has followed. While wearing all the clothes I own. A few interesting lessons for me already.



No Neve to be found here :) There was however lots of waist deep snow being shed off thehard, dryice.







It could be worse. But at the moment this has been the onlyresult of being slow on route. Bivy in the WC on the Midi station. Breakfast and a coffee in town followed after the first lift down the next morning. If nothing else climbing in Chamonix is sureal.