Pigeon River Paradise

This image is of the Pigeon River in northeast Minnesota, just downstream from Grand Portage State Park (which is where I work for my "day" job). The Pigeon, like many rivers, is a river of many moods. The majority of the river is characterized by very rugged terrain, with the water tumbling over boulders and through narrow gorges in rapids of varying intensity. Some areas, like the one pictured here, are very serene. The area shown in this image is only about a mile upstream from the mouth of the river.

The Pigeon originates on the edge of the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness, and after its mostly violent but sometimes peaceful journey through the rugged valleys of northern Minnesota it empties very quietly and with little fanfare into Lake Superior. As mentioned earlier, this particular spot along the river is just downstream from the state park where I work. It is one of my favorite places along the river and I often stop here after work to see what the conditions are like. On the evening I made this image, I had already gone home for the day but as sunset approached I was very intrigued by the clouds that were lingering in the sky. I immediately thought of this place on the river and how calm the water usually is... little did I know what an incredible sight I would find when I arrived!

This is without a doubt the coolest cloud I have ever seen over this part of the river. This image was made only moments after the sun went down behind me. The point of view in this image is actually looking east/northeast, but as often happens immediately after sunset the clouds took on quite a glow. My outing to the river resulted in an experience (and an image) that I will never forget! Shot with my Canon EF 17-40mm lens, shutter speed was 1/50, aperture f8, ISO 200. Since the sky was a bit brighter than the reflection on the water, I did also use my Singh-Ray 3-stop graduated ND filter in the creation of this image.

The Estate of Dederick Hoffman :: Widow's Allowance

Dederick/Detrick Hoffman and his wife Susannah are my 5th great-grandparents. Descent is through their son John who married Catherine Coy and their daughter Susannah who married John D. Berlin.









Estate of Dederick Hoffman (Packet 805) Columbiana County, Ohio

FHL film 2032459 accessed June 8, ..

A Schedule of the provisions and other property allowed to Susannah Hoffman Widow of Detrich Hoffman late of Salem Township Columbiana County Deceased for her Support for one year by us the Subscribers duly appointed appraisersers to the Estate of the Sd Deceased to wit:

one lot of meat, one hog, a Small lot of Kitchen furniture, one Cow, twenty Bushels of wheat, five Dollars in money, eight Bushels of oats, three lbs of Wool, one bushel and a half of Salt, a lot of Soap, twenty lbs of Sugar, two twiled bags

We the Subscribers do certify that the foregoing is a correct Schedule of property allowed to the above named Widow given under our hands this 12th day of May 1826.

George Urick, John Yoder, Andrew Altman } Appraisers

Real Gone

Friends began to suspect it some time ago, but I didn't want to talk about it. I didn't want to admit it, even to myself. But now it's gotten to the point that it's affecting my sleep, my social life, even my work on the blog. And so the time has come to tell the truth:I am building a bicycle frame.




My mentor isMike Flanigan- fabled builder, instructor, and patron saint of the local steel-addicted youth.So at least I am in good hands. But why do this at all? I don't think it will lead anywhere. I don't think I will be good at it. It's something I simply can't help.




In part, I blame my environment: Boston is so replete with framebuilders, that the behaviour has become normalised here.Perhaps naively, I thought that I could watch friends light up those frame joints over and over and not get tempted. But after 3 years of it, I caved. "I'll try it once," I said.




Then there is the annoying combination of my curiosity about things like bike handling and frame geometry, coupled with my poor ability to grasp abstract concepts. In the end, I do not see a good way to "get" this stuff other than the hands-on method. If I want to understand tubing diameter and thickness, I should work with some tubing. If I want to understand frame geometry, I should put one together and see how everything fits.




Finally, having worked on a few collaborative projects with framebuilders now, I kept feeling uncomfortable with not understanding their process as thoroughly as I would have liked. When working with a fabricator on a future project, I want to be 100% aware of what I am looking at and agreeing to, not 90% as I was during the latest one. If I am interested in bicycle design, I need to go through the fabrication process myself at least once.




So those are my reasons. Maybe they are logical, maybe not, I have lost perspective at this point. But in any event,here I am: eyes blurry after weeks of reading and re-reading what I only somewhat grasp, and elbows deep in tubing which I am almost certain to ruin. And I haven't even gotten into the hard stuff yet. The brazing, that point of no return, begins next week. Mike seems to think I will actually be able to ride the bike I make, but I am not getting my hopes up.




I've been taking a lot of notes, and will continue to do so in the following weeks. I plan to post at least some of these notes online here(the name "Not a framebuilder" is a joke, inspired by my encounters with Bruce Gordon and Richard Sachs).There is not much content there at the moment, but the notes are coming. I will also write up a few cohesive posts about the whole thing on this blog, once it's over. In the end it might be a story of failure, and I am willing to accept that. Won't know unless I try!

More Bonanza

This newspaper clipping shows Michael Landon - Little Joe, Dan Blocker - Hoss, and Pernell Roberts - Adam.

Goat Rocks

Emily, Ron, Nick, David, Dan and Doug arriving at Snowgrass Flats.



After setting up camp, we headed south to climb Mt. Gilbert. Cispus Basin and the southwest section of Goat Rocks.



On day 2, we went north to climb Old Snowy. Goat Lake and Mt. Rainier as seen from the Pacific Crest Trail.



A snowfield full of Watermelon Algae.



Wildflowers at Snowgrass Flats with Mt. Adams in background.



In addition to all the incredible sights, we got to pick sweet huckleberries all along the trail. We just might have to plan another trip to this area!

Gunks Routes: Beatle Brow Bulge (5.10a)

(Photo: Approaching the huge roof on Beatle Brow Bulge (5.10a).)



This past weekend was just beautiful. It was autumn at its best in the Hudson Valley, with crisp mornings, followed by moderate temperatures and abundant sunshine.



In other words: perfect climbing weather!



I was psyched to get out for a day with Adrian, especially since this was quite likely going to be my last Gunks day of . Two of the remaining three weekends in November are already booked up with family activities, and who knows what the weather will be like on my few remaining potential climbing days this month. Climbing in December is always a possibility, but a remote one. So this really could be it for the year.



As is the case every year, there is so much left undone.



But this has been a year of real accomplishment for me as a climber.



I got in better shape last winter and once the climbing season got under way I finally got my mojo back. I began to feel more like the climber I'd been in , before I broke my ankle in a climbing accident. This new/old me felt solid, confident, and hungry for harder climbs.



As I've chronicled here on my blog, I started leading 5.9 climbs in the Gunks again. I led a whole bunch of them this year, for the most part with great success. My goal was to become solid in 5.9, with the idea that I could go anywhere in the world and jump on a 5.9 and be sure that it would be well within my comfort zone.



I can't say I've quite reached that goal. The kind of climbing the Gunks offers is just too limited for that. Certainly my four days of climbing in the Adirondacks this year demonstrated to me that I'm not a solid 5.9 leader if the climbing involves vertical cracks and jamming. I'm sure that if I went to Yosemite, to cite another example, and tried to lead a typical Tuolumne 5.9-- featuring long runout slabs and oceans of fragile knobs-- I'd have my ass handed to me there as well.



But I feel good about the progress I've made in the Gunks on its brutish overhangs and thin face climbs. I've tried to keep stepping forward while at the same time being reasonable. I am convinced that you can make progress, climb hard, and still be careful. So far it all seems like it's making sense, most of the time.



I had another goal this year that I have not talked about so much.



I wanted to lead at least one Gunks 5.10 before the year was over.



I didn't necessarily care if I sent it onsight. It didn't have to go perfectly. I could take a fall, I figured, so long as I protected the hard moves well and kept things in control. Even if the climbing proved too difficult for me, if in the end I felt I'd done things right and protected myself well, then I'd regard the climb as a success and something I could build upon.



All year I had certain candidates in mind, climbs that had a reputation for being soft for 5.10 and for having good pro at the crux, like The Dangler or Wegetables, to name just two possibilities.



But as the year wore on I started to think I'd never really do it. And why push? This year's goal was 5.9. Why not make 5.10 the goal for next year?



Then a few weeks ago I went out climbing with my eight-year-old son Nate. We were climbing with another dad/son duo I met through my kids' school. The dad used to be a regular Gunks hardman and his son, who is Nate's age, is also into climbing. I thought if we all went out together it might inspire my son to get a little more interested in climbing. (Alas, it didn't work out that way. Nate gamely tried a few climbs, mostly just to humor me, but he was not converted.)



We were climbing at Lost City. I'd never been there before. After all these years it was nice to finally go out there and check the place out! I didn't get to try any of the legendary climbs there, because I was too busy setting up 5.4's for my son. But I saw something that really inspired me: a fourteen-year-old boy attempting to lead Stannard's Roof.



The young man actually lives in my apartment building, though we'd never met before. (Small world!) He'd spent a few weeks this summer at a rock climbing camp in Maine and had recently led his first 5.9's in the Gunks. But today he'd elected to try Stannard's Roof, which upped the ante significantly. The route is reputed to go at "easy" 5.10, and though the roof is very large-- it requires getting truly horizontal for a couple body lengths-- the holds are quite positive, or so I am told.



The boy couldn't do it. He made several efforts, getting up into the roof, placing good pro, then climbing down and resting. He repeatedly got up to his high point, decided he couldn't hang on, and came back down. Eventually he downclimbed to a fixed anchor and retreated.



Watching him, I was impressed with his good sense. He didn't just run it out and go for it. He wanted to do it right and in control. And when he knew he wasn't going to make it, he backed down.



His effort on Stannard's Roof reawakened my desire to hop on a 5.10 of my own. This kid was doing EXACTLY what I should be doing. I resolved to find a 5.10 like this, with good pro and clean falls, and get up into it. Whether I succeeded or failed, I knew it would be good for me.



So when Adrian and I got out last weekend I was determined to find the right 5.10. Ultimately I decided on Beatle Brow Bulge. It seemed like one of the easier 5.10 climbs. It was historically rated 5.9+ until Dick Williams boosted its rating to 5.10a in his 2004 guidebook. It seemed to me like strenuous climbing, but juggy and unmysterious. I'd just have to hang in there and keep moving. And it looked like I'd find good pro out the roof, so that any fall would be into the air.



Most of all the route just looked awesome. The roof is HUGE.





(Photo: Grabbing the holds under the roof on Beatle Brow Bulge (5.10a). The real business starts with the next step up.)



Dick Williams lists the climb as having a first pitch consisting of 50 feet of 5.3 climbing up to a stance beneath the roof. I didn't see any point in stopping half-way and decided in advance to just do the whole thing in one pitch.



As I approached the roof it seemed to get bigger and bigger. My main concern was where I would place pro. I wanted something in the roof, not below it. And I wanted the piece to be out several feet from the wall, so if I fell I wouldn't slam right into the cliff.



There is a big block that sticks out like a thumb below the roof level. This block has chalk all over it, although it is not a necessary handhold. (It is a very useful foothold once you're in the business.) It appears a # 2 Camalot would go nicely in the space between this block and the roof, but I decided against using this placement. I was worried about the rock quality. It appeared to me that this block may not be well attached to the cliff. The last thing I wanted was to send a death block the size of a microwave down on Adrian.



Instead I found a great spot for a yellow Alien. (A yellow Metolius or yellow C3 may also work.) The cam goes in just above the two crucial first handholds in the roof; the spot is right above where my right hand is in the above photo. I was able to place this cam before committing to the roof, and it gave me great peace of mind as I started the moves.





(Photo: Getting into the roof! My right foot is on the thumb/death block that I avoided placing pro behind.)



One step up and I was really into it, fully horizontal beneath the big ceiling. The hands and feet were great, but it was strenuous. Immediately I reached over my head and placed a perfect red Camalot at the lip of the roof. I wanted to extend it with a runner but I knew the clock was ticking and I had to get moving. So I just clipped it direct, hoping it was close enough to the lip that it wouldn't create too much drag. (It worked out fine.)



Once I made that clip, everything was going to be okay. It was a piece off of which you could hang a truck, and below me was a totally clean fall into air. I could hear Adrian yelling his approval. "Yeah! Now go!"



And so I went, for once totally in the flow of the moves and not even thinking about the consequences of blowing it. The holds are great; there are no devious sequences. It's strictly a matter of hanging in there and continuing to move upward.





(Photo: getting over the big roof.)



Once I was over the roof, the pumpiness of the route really set in. It was still quite steep and after I moved up and placed more pro I started to worry that I might pop off. I stepped up again and placed another cam, then tried to shake out a little.



I decided maybe I should take a hang, just to be safe.



"Adrian, can you take?" I shouted.



But Adrian wasn't having it. He didn't pull in the ropes.



"Really??" he yelled. "It looks like you're almost there! Don't you want to keep going?"



"I'm just so pumped!" I shouted back.





(Photo: In the final pumpy territory on Beatle Brow Bulge (5.10a).)



But then I looked up and I realized he was right. The angle eased in another two moves. I could do this.



I got back to moving and in another couple steps got to a real rest stance. I was so grateful that Adrian hadn't let me take a hang. Instead of noble failure, I had sweet, sweet success. I had done it. I had led my first (alleged) 5.10 trad route in the Gunks, onsight. It was an amazing feeling.



I finished the climb as Dick Williams suggests, heading to the right as soon as I was level with a tree ledge with an anchor. We were using doubles, but it appeared to us that you could reach the ground from this first station with a single 60 meter rope. There is another station at the next ledge, up another 30 feet or so through dirty, low-angled territory. This higher station is attached to a much bigger tree, but you'd need double ropes or maybe a single 70 meter to use it.



As I stood at the station waiting for Adrian to join me, I felt a great satisfaction with not just this one climb, but the whole year. I am so lucky to have gotten out to climb as much as I have, and to have made real progress over the course of the season. I may get another day or two on the rock before is over, but if the weather sucks for the rest of November I'll still be happy. I hope I can keep improving and make this climb not just a peak climb for one climbing year, but a preview of numerous 5.10's to come. This winter I'll have strong motivation to work to make this 5.10 just the first of many.

Ice tinkering 12.11.11

The ice bouldering conditions I found on Sunday 12/11/11

I wasn't sure there would be any ice and I was partnerless, but being an optimist I pack up my tools and crampons and decided to head out and see if I could find anything "climbable". I made my way to an area in the Laurel Highlands that is around 2650' in elevation figuring that as all the lower stuff was sure to be a wash. I drove as far I could until the icy roads and steep inclines would've trapped me for sure. It was a pleasant day with the temps in the mid 20's to 30 degrees and the sun shining. I ended up hiking about a mile down the the icy road to the crag slipping and sliding my way down the hill.

Happy to find ice and enjoy the colder weather.

The ice I found was a little delaminated with running water in some areas, but was tall enough and stable enough that I could get some early season mixed training in. What the ice lacked in size it surely made up for in fun! I was able to traverse several hundred yards covering both ice runnels and rock. The ice varied in thickness from relatively thin (enough to hold body weight) to some decent swing and sticks. It was nice to see ice again. The temps up high have been cold since my visit and should still be good. I plan to visit again this week for some more early season ice bouldering.

After ice bouldering I went to check other areas.

Here's the best I found. Still has a ways to go, but winter

is almost here!

Pink Poppy

Here we are, almost halfway through September already, but our flower gardens around the house still have a beautiful variety of blooms! Here is a recent shot of one of our pink poppies in the front yard. I used the macro mode on my Canon G11 camera to make this close-up, abstract image of the flower.

Dark Secret

Last night I posted a picture of a gimlet-sippingbikeyface at dinner, and a reader emailed to ask what bikes we ride when we go out. It would be great, she suggested, to write a post about being out on the town on bikes.



Hmm that does sound nice. But it would be pretty tough. Because the truth is, we didn't ride bikes. Last night our destination was only 15 minutes away and walking just seemed easier. The other week we did the same when going to see a movie. Come to think of it, most of the time we see each other there are no bikes involved. We live in the same neighbourhood and are usually so tired that we stick to local places and walk to them. Does that make us bad bicycle bloggers? Maybe I should have kept this a secret!





When I first began cycling for transportation 3 years ago, I was so excited about it that I would ride everywhere no matter the distance just for the heck of it. I would ride down the block, or to the store around the corner and back. Now that cycling has lost its novelty, it seems too much of a hassle to get my bike out just to ride a short distance. I would rather walk.



In a sense there is some sadness in having lost that beginner's excitement. But I think it also means that I've transitioned to a stage where transportation cycling has become truly normalised. With cycling established as an inherent part of life, I don't feel the need to ride down the block when I can walk. If you've been riding for a while, have you had the same experience?

Power: Nature turned Generator

The rain seems to have stopped and now you can hear the Longmire generators (6-10 am and 4-8 pm that is). It's going to take some time to put things back in order, but it seems as though the main brunt of the storm and its damage have subsided.

Sunshine Point Campground near the Nisqually Entrance was disappointed with the weather trend and left Mt. Rainier National Park for sunnier locations. The problem is that it took the main road with it. I couldn't get a visual though because the road near Kautz Creek was under 3 feet of silty debris and water. The creek must have diverted upstream and chosen a new channel. See photo above.

If you're familiar with the park, you'll notice a number of "new viewing areas" along the Nisqually to Paradise corridor next time you visit. The Nisqually River ran bank to bank and in doing so, took a massive amount of debris with it. Large trees fell, as new embankments were chiseled.

Here is another image of the westside road. See it? Neither do I. Well, 8 pm is approaching...

My garden helpers

I've been noticing a lot of Indigo Buntings (Passerina cyanea) in the garden lately. I'm a bird nut, but I'll admit to a little fist-shaking at first... hey, those tomatoes didn't get pecked all by themselves, you know.

But it finally dawned on me that the birds were eating bugs. Especially (I think) those stink bugs and leaf-footed bugs who'd been ruining the peas. Hubby yanked up the peas last weekend (they were about done anyway), but the bugs had been hanging around still - looking to try their luck with the okra, probably.

Earlier a Phoebe was hanging out too. I believe he's the Tomato Hornworm guard. We found the ends of a few stems eaten off, and hornworm frass underneath, but no severe damage.

Thanks guys! Feel free to peck a few tomatoes. We've got plenty!

In the Forest

In the Forest, originally uploaded by ParsecTraveller.

A small, lacy waterfall on a creek in Las Trampas Regional Park. The heavy rains brought water back to the creeks - and mud to the trails - in most of the parks in the Bay Area.

Death Valley National Park

After six days at Joshua Tree, I traveled north to Death Valley National Park, arriving there on Tuesday March 23rd.

When I arrived at Texas Springs Campground (sort of in the central portion of the park near Furnace Creek) it was almost full. It's one of those first-come, first-served self-check-in campgrounds, so you have to drive around and find an empty spot. It took a while but I pulled into what I thought was an open site at the same time as someone else pulled in to the one next to me. We looked at each other and said, “Hi neighbor!” But a few minutes later they pulled out and went to another spot. As I was standing there looking around, a little old lady (the 80-year old camp host) came up and told me I was in a handicap only site, so I had to move. She said there were only three empty sites left and told me where they were.

As I pulled into my next selected site, I saw that my new neighbors were actually the young couple that had pulled in beside me earlier. We looked at each other and laughed. They had gotten the last site that had a picnic table and fire ring. My site had nothing. But it was better than no site at all. Being nice neighbors, the young couple (Ian and Jennifer) invited me to join them at their table and campfire. They were very sweet and pleasant. We had a wonderful time sitting around the campfire in the evening and talking the night away, literally.

We were neighbors for Wednesday night also and once again they were gracious and companionable and we spent another evening talking around the campfire. By the time the night was over, we each knew quite a bit about the other. I spent two more nights at Texas Springs. On Friday night, Ian and Jennifer joined me at my camp site after spending Thursday in the back-country. (I had moved to a new site Thursday morning with a table and fire ring.) Thank you, Ian and Jennifer, for helping to make my evenings in Death Valley so enjoyable. It was great fun!

Death Valley from Dante's View, 5500 feet above the valley.

The Golden Mountains. Those two little vertical “lines” in the middle of the picture are people!

This is an area known as the Artist's Palette.

At Zabriskie Point.

Zabriskie Point.

The Devil's Golf Course. Telescope Peak, in the background, is the highest peak (over 11,000 feet) in the Panamint Range that borders Death Valley on the west.

Close up view of the Devil's Golf Course. In 1934, it was determined that the salt and gravel beds of the Devil's Golf Course extend to a depth of more than 1,000 feet. Later studies suggest that in places the depth ranges up to 9,000 feet.

The salt flats at Badwater, which is the lowest point in Death Valley at 232 feet below sea level. Walking on the salt flats was strange. It looked like concrete but there was some “give” in each step. In several spots there were muddy pools of water where small holes had been made in the salt flat.

Spirit Tree Twilight

There is a magical period of time each day that lasts for maybe 15 minutes during which you can capture the last bit of blue in the sky along with a sky full of stars. On the evening of May 6, I was fortunate to have ideal conditions for capturing this special moment in time. The sky was not yet completely dark (meaning I could still capture plenty of blue in the sky), yet it was dark enough that plenty of stars were visible. This image was made using my Canon EF 17-40mm lens, exposure length was 25 seconds, aperture f4, ISO 1600.