Tuesday, September 28, 2010

Millbrook: Westward Ha! (5.7) & Cruise Control (5.9)






(Photo: Just above the final crux of Cruise Control (5.9). Photo by Christian Fracchia.)




Millbrook is a cliff with a fearsome reputation.




Unlike the other large cliffs at the Gunks, Millbrook has no easy access. A hike of at least three miles is required to approach the cliff. Once there, you have to rap in from above to get to the climbs. All of the climbs start from a narrow, sloping shelf popularly known as the "Death Ledge." Above this Death Ledge is a rotten band of rock; many of the climbing routes negotiate crumbly, loose territory for the first thirty to forty feet. And even if you survive the rotten band, you aren't out of the woods. The climbs at Millbrook are steep, difficult, and often poorly protected. 5.11 X is a common rating at Millbrook.




This is a serious cliff. You need to have a good idea of your limits before you go there. When you climb at Millbrook, you will likely be climbing alone. If something goes wrong, help is going to be hard to come by.




Does this sound like fun to you?




And yet the cliff has very attractive qualities as well. For starters, it is the highest, whitest, most impressive cliff at the Gunks. You might not notice it so much from New Paltz but if you spend any time in the area to the south, in Gardiner, for example, you can't help but feel its presence. We've rented a house on Bruynswick Road, which parallels the ridge, and every time I've driven down to this house from the north, following the road past all the major cliffs, I've been struck by how Millbrook looms over the area in the most appealing and inviting way. It is a beautiful, solemn place.




And there are great climbs at Millbrook. Not just hard man test-pieces (of which there are many), but also great moderates (or so I've been told). The introductory Millbrook route, right at the center of the cliff (next to the rappel tree), is Westward Ha!, a climb some consider to be the best 5.7 in the Gunks. Just to the right of Westward Ha! is a classic 5.9 called Cruise Control. Another reputed classic 5.9, Realm of the Fifth Class Climber, is down at the southern end of the cliff. And there are more, a handful of 5.7 to 5.9 climbs that I hear are well-protected and well worth doing, along with several world-class 5.10's and 5.11's that have reasonable pro.




Above all, Millbrook offers solitude, mystery, and the unknown, things which are in short supply at the other major cliffs at the Gunks. Millbrook provides a chance to get away from the same crowded routes you did yesterday and to step into what feels like a real alpine adventure.




Until this past weekend I'd never been climbing at Millbrook. I've been really wanting to go lately, intrigued by Christian Fracchia's website The White Cliff, which has wonderfully detailed topo photos of the whole cliff, along with updated route information that is more precise than what you'll find in any of the official guidebooks. I contacted Chris when I started thinking about climbing at Millbrook, and he gave me great advice about potential routes to climb and how best to reach them.




This past Sunday seemed like a good day to go. Clear skies and cool temperatures made for perfect conditions for hiking out to the cliff. Gail was willing to troop out there with me. I hoped we could knock off the two most obvious candidates, Westward Ha! (5.7) and Cruise Control (5.9), and still have time to maybe hit another moderate like The High Traverse (5.8 with the variation finish) or Realm of the Fifth Class Climber (5.9), mentioned above.









(Photo: On the trail to Millbrook, with Skytop visible in the distance.)




Dick Williams suggests in his guidebook that the hike out to Millbrook will take about an hour. For us the trip was uneventful but it took longer than that. We were slowed a bit by a lot of wetness on the trail, which I guess was a remnant of some heavy rain that fell a few nights before. The hike is perfectly pleasant, and I bet it is quite beautiful in late May/early June when the mountain laurel is in bloom.









(Photo: The rap tree is dead, Fred! What do we do now?)




Once we dead-ended into the Millbrook Mountain Trail and followed it to the cliff's edge, we had no trouble winding our way down to find the traditional rappel tree atop Westward Ha! Unfortunately, however, this tree is 100 percent deceased, as in dead, i.e. finished. This was a shock to us because everyone apparently still uses the dead tree! I don't know how long it has been this way but man, it is over and has been for a while. The tree is a black hulk. We briefly considered using it anyway, since it is such a huge tree, and it is unlikely to fail under body weight for quite a while. But it gave me the willies. I did not feel good about the idea of using it.




Looking around, we saw other rappel options, so it was easy for us not to use the dead tree. We found two trees that were decent-sized and very much alive, about 30 or 40 feet left (south) of the Westward Ha! rappel. These trees are also maybe 20 or 30 feet higher than the dead tree, but I was confident my 60 meter rope would still reach the Death Ledge, since I knew the rap from the dead tree was only 150-160 feet to the ledge.









(Photo: Rapping over the steepness that is Millbrook.)




I leaned out over the lip from our improvised rappel station to check the rap; it appeared to be a sheer drop to the ledge. It did not seem that there were any obstacles and I was more or less certain that the rope would reach. I also felt entirely sure that we would have no trouble climbing a 5.7 route to get off of the cliff. We would not be trapped down there. Still, I felt very nervous. It took a leap of faith to back my ass off the cliff and descend into the unknown. But this whole adventure was my idea, so I had to be the first one to go. I set up my rappel and off I went.









(Photo: The obvious corner of Westward Ha! (5.7).)




Once we both got down without incident, it was very easy to find the prominent corner ascended by Westward Ha! (5.7). And although the Death Ledge wasn't huge, the shelf was flat and wide enough at this part of the cliff for us to move around without fear that we were about to slip off of it and tumble to the talus some 70 or 80 feet below. (Nevertheless we stayed anchored while on the ledge.)









(Photo: Getting started on Westward Ha! (5.7).)




I had read that you could take any of several independent little lines up the first forty feet of the route to reach the prominent corner system. I could see that the path on the left looked the easiest, ascending blocky flakes all the way to the corner. But I guessed that this collection of flakes also contained a bunch of loose crap, giving this part of the route its reputation for bad rock. So I decided to go to the right, up a line that appeared to have obvious holds and solid rock, leading to a leftward traverse to the big corner.









(Photo: Gail coming up the right-hand start to Westward Ha!, which has nice climbing, good rock, and pretty good pro.)




I thought this part of the route had decent climbing, though the final moves left to the ledge seemed a bit thin to me for 5.7 and required the use of a fragile crimper hold. If this crimp breaks off, I think this start will be much harder than 5.7 in the future. Once I reached the tree at the base of the big corner I decided to stop and belay Gail from there. The short first pitch would cut down on drag and allow us to do the whole rest of the climb in one pitch. Gail agreed that the right hand start was a little stiff for 5.7.









(Photo: In the final moves up the pretty white face at the top of Westward Ha! (5.7).)




We found the rest of Westward Ha! to be superb. The corner is sustained, with one fine move after another. A crack goes up the back of the corner for most of the way, so pro is frequently available, and you can jam if you wish, although there are plenty of edges so it isn't necessary.




From the top of the corner you emerge at the crux of the route, thin moves up an attractive white face. Again the pro is there and the moves are great, and then before you know it you're at the top.




Westward Ha! is a very very nice 5.7. I would not call it the best 5.7 in the Gunks, because to me it lacks the mind-blowing standout moments that you'll find on the very best climbs, like, say, Thin Slabs Direct or CCK. Westward Ha! doesn't really have any one outstanding moment or section, though the whole thing is quite good. I enjoyed it immensely and thought it was well worth the walk. And I would do it again the same way, with the short pitch at the bottom, followed by a longer pitch with all of the great climbing in it.




Back on top of the cliff, it was already late for lunch. We had a bite and then rapped back down to check out Cruise Control (5.9). Like Westward Ha!, this climb is easy to find. If you continue walking right (north) just a short distance from Westward Ha!, maybe thirty feet or so, stepping over a boulder that is resting against the cliff face, you will quickly come to a spot below a small, left-facing corner in orange rock that leads up to a groove/shallow open book. The open book then trends up and right to a roof. This is Cruise Control.




It looked good to me. I had wondered earlier in the day if, when push came to shove, I would feel up to a 5.9 on Millbrook. Before we started Westward Ha!, I was so nervous, worrying about how the rock would feel, and about whether we were really equipped to deal with the climbing at this cliff. I did not want us to exceed our limits. But once we completed Westward Ha! these concerns melted away. The rock felt fine. The climbing was familiar. I knew I could handle leading a Gunks 5.9, and Cruise Control was supposed to be on the easy side of the grade. This was going to be no problem.




The first pitch was a great pleasure. The moves up the initial corner are nice, and the rock quality through the rotten band seemed fine to me. I can't remember any terrible looseness. Then the crux climbing comes at a technical sequence up the shallow open book. The left side of the book forms a beautiful layback flake with solid pro. By the time I was through this sequence I was already telling Gail how wonderful the pitch was, and I hadn't even reached the roof.




The overhang adds another cool dimension to the pitch. It is a solid 5.8+/5.9- affair, again with great gear. After you pull over it the pitch romps up easy territory to a pedestal where there are good cracks for a gear anchor. (You could also continue to the next shelf.)









(Photo: Pulling over the roof on pitch one of Cruise Control (5.9).)




As I prepared for pitch two, I thought the real business of the climb was over. The second pitch is 5.8, and I assumed the groove and roof on pitch one were the main attractions of the climb. I didn't expect much out of the second pitch.




Boy was I wrong. The second pitch of Cruise Control is amazing.




It starts up the obvious right-facing corner that rises above the belay ledge. But after 20 or 30 feet you need to traverse around the corner to the left and onto the face of the cliff. I placed a good nut while still in the corner but felt obligated to sling it really long to avoid the prospect of horrendous drag.




Peering around the corner, I could see good little footholds. But I was blind as to the hands, and the face above looked blank. Would there be any placements out there? Dick Williams rates this pitch as 5.8 G. That would seem to indicate that there must be pro out there, right?




Making the commitment and stepping out onto the face was spectacular. I found myself on a gorgeous white billboard beneath a small ceiling. The rock was solid and I could see the path up and left. The climbing here was easier than 5.8.




But there wasn't any pro. I spied a wide horizontal at the top of the billboard, at the overlap. I hoped my largest cam, a big blue Camalot, would fit. I moved up, easy does it, one exquisite move and then another. Staying focused. By the time I reached the overlap I was surely well into R-rated territory. A fall at that point would have been a long, sideways, swinging affair.




I tried to place the blue Camalot. It was tipped-out and biting into mud in the crack. Not good at all.




What to do? Maybe the blue cam would fit better if I moved it further to the left, off-line?




Looking around, I realized I'd fallen victim to tunnel vision. There was a vertical crack system just above me running upward, the continuation of the route. But in my fixation on the wide horizontal crack I hadn't even seen it. I could get a great cam or nut right over my head. I threw a yellow Alien in the vertical crack and exhaled.




Everything was going to be fine.









(Photo: Topping out on Cruise Control (5.9). Photo by Christian Fracchia.)




Just then, as I breathed a sigh of relief and looked upward, I saw a human head peek out from the top of the cliff.




"Chris, is that you?"




It was! I had told Fracchia I was headed out to Millbrook and he showed up (with his sheepdog) to see how I liked it and to snap a few photos.




While he got set up to shoot I climbed through the physical crux of the pitch, up the fun crack system through another overlap and on to the top. As I finished the climb Chris got the nice photos you see here. Then we hung out and chatted while Gail climbed the pitch. When she topped out she too was thrilled with the awesomeness of the second pitch of Cruise Control.




I think Cruise Control is one of the best moderate climbs in the Gunks. The first pitch is great, and the second is stupendous. If you are cool with the 5.9 climbing on pitch one then the runout on pitch two through easier territory shouldn't bother you too much. But I do think Dick's 5.8 G rating for the second pitch is misleading. It should be something like 5.8 G (5.6+ R).




When we finished Cruise Control it was already mid-afternoon and we figured that including time spent packing up and walking, it would be at least another hour and a half before we'd reach the car. We thought about trying to do one more pitch but decided to call it a day instead. This turned out to be the right call, as I was really drooping by the time we finished the hike back to civilization. After four pitches of climbing and three hours of hiking I was exhausted. Gail was still hiking strong. I could barely keep up with her. I need to toughen up, I think.




I was so satisfied with the climbing we did at Millbrook. Getting to the cliff may be inconvenient, but the isolation gives the place a special atmosphere and a solitude you just can't get at the other cliffs. On this beautiful Sunday, while the other cliffs were surely overrun with gumbies (and I mean no offense to all of you gumbies out there), Gail and I were the only people climbing at Millbrook all day.




I hope it doesn't take me a year or more to go back.There are several other climbs I'm dying to try. Maybe I've got the Millbrook bug.

Tombstone Tuesday :: Rest in Peace

On the campus of Saint Mary-of-the-Woods College near Terre Haute, Indiana
Winter of 1981I didn't read the other side of the stones so don't know who is buried there.Copyright © 1981/.. by Rebeckah R. Wiseman

Reading and Riding

Rack Full o' Books
When I started cycling I never dreamed of getting into bicycle-themed literature. In fact, I intentionally avoided it. I guess I wanted to think of myself as "normal," didn't want to get obsessed, you know?.. Just a person who rides bikes, and nota person who is so defined by them that even her reading list is bike-themed.Fast forward several years, and my coffee table is littered with books and magazines about... you guessed it, cycling. My laptop has browser windows open to cycling-themed reading material. I'm a goner for sure. And you know what's worse? For some reason, most of the stuff I like is roadie themed. Let me explain: There is some truly excellent writing in this genre. Not just writing that seems good because I am into bikes. But writing that is so genuinely compelling in its own right, that it has gotten me interested in topics I had otherwise been indifferent to. Here is a sampling of my favourites, by category:



Book: The Rider by Tim Krabbé. I posted a sort-of review of it last winter and it remains my favourite. It is ultimately a novel about human introspection. That just happens to also be about bicycle racing. By the end, you may not be able to separate the two.



Writer: Limiting myself to just one, I would have to sayGraeme Fife. "I'm not greatly interested in results, frankly but the metaphysics and aesthetics of cycle racing excite me enormously," this man once said in an interview.



Magazine: I started readingRouleurbecause it was available at the Ride Studio Cafe libraryand I was looking for something to leaf through with my coffee. After a couple of issues I was hooked. The articles have an unexpectedly brooding, almost dark tone to them that lured me right in. I had no idea what I was reading about half the time, but it was gorgeous, so I kept reading until it gradully began to make more sense. That's how they got me.



Blog: Red Kite Prayer. This is a roadie blog that I really have no business reading. But the entries are so thoughtful and well written that I keep checking in and finding common threads, sometimes even patches of common ground.



Blog Entry: Favourite cycling blog post of all time is a masterpiece by a girl named Beth Newell. Now, this is a girl who went from riding her first roadbike to turning track national champion in just a few years, all the while documenting it hilariously. But my favourite post of hers has little to do with cycling, and focuses instead on a student exchange trip to Hungary. So, if you're having a dull night, do yourself a favour: Pour a nice glass of wine, click here, then search for the phrase "perhaps the most traumatic story about my calves dates back age twenty" and start reading from there. You will not regret it.

Sunday, September 26, 2010

How a Grocery Store Won Me Back

Brompton View

There is a grocery store nearby that I've always neglected despite its proximity. They did not have a great selection of foods. They often sold stuff that was spoiled or expired. At thethe checkout, the cashiers would argue with me when I declined plastic bags. And the bike parking outside was iffy. This store is so close I could easily walk to it, butcarrying bags of groceries is just easier on a bike. And since I did food shopping by bike anyway, I figured I might as well shop at the stores I preferred, even if it meant riding further.




I suspect that other residents of our neighbourhood felt similarly, because about half a year ago the nearby store began to aggressively reinvent itself. They cleaned up, reorganised their merchandise, added an organic foods section. They expanded their selection ofproduce. The quality control is much improved. They now sell reusable shopping bags and don't argue when customers decline plastic.




But best of all, they allow me to roll my Brompton inside and use it as a shopping cart. No questions or comments, other than the occasional "Look, it's a bike and shopping cart in one!" Considering that othershops have thrown me out even when I've walked in with the bike fully folded, the permissive attitude of this store came as a pleasant surprise. Walking in with a small-wheel shopper is really no different from pushing a huge shopping cart; they get it. Now I shop there almost exclusively. Not only have they improved their store, but they've made shopping by bike a breeze.




While those of us who ride small wheel shoppers are in the minority, many cyclists report that their shopping preferences are guided by the store's bike-friendlieness. This can refer to a number of things, from adequate bike parking, to the parking lot being safe to navigate, to the location itself being reachable via a bike-friendly route. Do these considerations play a role in where you do your grocery shopping?

Saturday, September 25, 2010

Broad-winged Hawk


































As we drove home from kayaking the other day we had the distinct pleasure of an encounter with this beautiful little Broad-winged Hawk. We were driving slowly down an old logging road when we came around a corner and this hawk, who had been sitting in the road, flew up into a tree. It's not that uncommon to run across these guys while driving the back roads of northern Minnesota, but usually they fly further into the trees and you can't see them. This one landed on a branch in a tree right next to the road and sat there for a minute or two before flying away. I was able to get several nice shots of it. It was definitely a nice little bonus to our day!

Saturday, September 18, 2010

The Seasons are changing, and so are the routes...

This past week has brought intense thunderstorms, new snowfall, and crisp fall air to Mt. Rainier. With these changes in the weather, we are also seeing changes on some of the routes. See the Disappointment Cleaver page for information on the latest developements there. The upcoming week looks like it holds beautiful weather, so come on up to Mount Rainier National Park and enjoy the stunning scenery, the wildflowers, and the melted out hiking trails before fall truly takes hold!




Thursday, September 16, 2010

Grandma's New House :: 1950

In The Life of Hazlette Brubaker :: Part 14 my Grandmother stated that she “went to work for a Chevrolet & Buick dealership in Auburn as head bookkeeper. At last I was earning a decent salary and had a new home built...”

I don't know the address of the house but it was out in the country near Auburn in Dekalb County, Indiana. I've asked my aunts and my mother if they knew the address but they don't remember.

This week my cousin gave me some things from her mother Phyllis (Phend) Mitchell. Among the photographs and miscellaneous papers was an envelope marked “Detailed cost of Mother's house she built in Auburn in 1950.” There was also a photograph of the house...

The house that Grandma (Hazlette Brubaker Phend Dunn) had built in 1950.
Building Supplies and Plumbing.
Plaster and Electricity.
Flooring and Cost of House ($5,250.86)
The thing I remember most about the house was the front step, with the upright brick edging. Many family photos were taken on those steps...

1951 – Me and my brothers.
1955 – Grandma with her grandchildren. That's me, reaching toward my sister, probably to pull her thumb out of her mouth!

A Custom Rivendell Roadbike

Rivendell Custom Road

Some time ago I got the chance to try a custom Rivendell, built for local cyclist and bicycle mechanic Jim A. I had been eying this beautiful bicycle in Jim's corner at Harris Cyclery for a couple of years now and did not have the nerve to ride it. But as my curiosity grew and my bike handling skills improved, the stars finally aligned and it all culminated in a test ride.




Rivendell Custom Road
As far as Rivendells go, this one is both iconic and unique. The lugwork and color scheme look quintessentially Rivendellian, but the frame was built by Roland Della Santa in 2000, whereas today theircustom frames are usually built by Mark Nobilette. Of course being custom it was also built according to Jim's proportions and specifications, in particular to accommodate his long legs and a short torso.




Rivendell Custom Road
As far as lugwork, there are some special touches such as the double-plated fork crown,




Rivendell Custom Road
the elegant seat cluster,




Rivendell Custom Road
and the filigreed lugs framing the contrasting head tube panel. Of course I love the sage green and cream color scheme. If I were to get a custom Rivendellthis is pretty much what it would look like.




Rivendell Custom Road
Jim has this bicycle set up with Nitto Noodle handlebars, bar-end shifters, a compact drivetrain,PanaracerPasela28mm tires, and a green BrooksB17 saddle. The frame was built for short reach brakes, and will fit a 28mm tire with fender.




Rivendell Custom Road
The frame size is 54cm x 53.5cm. With its standard diameter tubing, level top tube, and road geometry, this bicycle resembles a classic roadbike more so than Rivendell's currently produced models - which was one reason I was interested in trying it.




Rivendell Custom Road

I rode the bicycle for a 5-8 mile loop through the suburbs with some hills. While I did not put the bike "through the paces" (I was still pretty nervous about marring its pristine condition), I did get a basic sense for its handling and speed. And... my main impression was that it handled similarly to my Mercian - to a freewheel, geared version of it, that is. The acceleration, the turning, and just the general feel of the Rivendell felt so similar that it was as if I was riding a different version of my own bike. With the handlebars set up for Jim but the saddle lowered for me, I was more upright than I wanted to be, and also there was some toe overlap with the front wheel, so on my own bike the specs would be a little different. But otherwise it felt comfortable, while also being lighter and more responsive than the stockRivendellSam Hillborne I own.




Rivendell Custom Road

It is hard to believe that 2000 was 12 years ago, but time does fly. Since they opened shop in 1994, Rivendell's philosophy has been shifting consistently in the direction of wider tires, hardier tubing, upright handlebars, greater off-road capacity, and reinforced frames (double top tubes, diagonal tubes, etc.). But in the past they did offer more roadish models that were essentially classic lugged steel road-to-trail bikes with decent tire clearances - nothing fancier or more eccentric than that. Trying a custom bicycle from this period was a treat, and has helped me understand the company's history. Many thanks to Jim A. for allowing me to ride his bike and to share these pictures.

Tuesday, September 14, 2010

Mt. Baker, ColemanDeming



Our season opener was a ski/snowshoe climb of Mt. Baker. Snow blocked the road about 2 miles from the trailhead. Doug, Dan, Pete, Jim and Mark about to hit the trail.



The weather was warm and the snow was soft. Jim, Pete and Dan snowshoeing and skinning up to camp.






Mark skinning up the ski approach.






Our camp at 6,100'. Mt. Baker in the background.






Jim above Colfax Peak and Pumice Ridge.






Mark climbing the final 1,000'






Jim on the summit.




Doug on the summit




Mark about to ski from the summit to the road




Huge blocks of ice calving off of Colfax Peak






Jim almost back to the trailhead.

Now it's time to plan our next climb!

Purple Rose


Sunday, September 12, 2010

Canyonlands National Park :: Island in the Sky

I'm not sure what it was about Canyonlands that “threw me for a loop”. Its stark beauty? Its isolation? I don't know. Perhaps I was a little intimidated by the yawing canyons and deep valleys but I just didn't feel comfortable there. I was in a funk, not in a “hiking mood” and I still haven't figured out why! It would be a great place to explore with someone who had a four-wheel-drive vehicle.

There are several sections in Canyonlands National Park. I visited two of them: Island in the Sky in the north and several days later, the Needles District in the south.

I drove the main roads, opting not to travel down the unpaved dirt roads, pulling off at each of the turnouts for the spectacular views dimmed somewhat by the hazy-blue sky. The only trails I took were short ones, where the tourists were.




Angie, Angela


The beach closest to the house is a small and rocky one that
all but disappears at high tide. But I know a spot - behind all the rocks,
in a little hollowed out nook in the side of the cliff - where I can sit on the
wet dark sand, hidden, reading. Well I
call it reading. Only half the time I am lying face down, my cheek pressed into
the open pages of the book.




Once in a while a noise prompts me to look up. Few people come here, most preferring the main beach down the road. But
now I hear the unmistakable sounds of flip-flops.




There are three of them, making their way along rocks
half-submerged in water. The man is athletic and agile, with a deep tan and
spiky brown hair. Close behind is an equally lean and tanned woman, blond ponytail
swinging as she hops from rock to rock. The couple moves with the lightness of teenagers, and only when I catch a glimpse of their faces do
I see they must be in their early 50s. They could be professional athletes. Runners
maybe.




As I contemplate this, they pause, waiting for the person some
distance behind to catch up. It is an elderly female form: soft, hunched-over
body, sagging chest, thinning hair, unsteady mincing gait. The mother or aunt of one of
them, I decide, and go back to my book.




Then I hear the blond woman’s voice and look up again. “Come
on honey,” she says - in the sort of firm but gentle tone used to encourage children. “Come on honey, give mommy your hand.”




I see now that she is a girl of around 14, though it is difficult to tell for sure. She stands awkwardly on the uneven rock, her shoulders hunched forward stiffly, hands at her sides, fingers fanned out, slack mouth
emitting a low pitched moan.




I feel a jolt to my system that I am instantly ashamed of. But it is the unexpectedness, the contrast of it. The couple'seffortless movements and theirbeautiful, youthful bodies, each stretching out a perfectly formed hand toward their child.






“Angie! Angela” says the man now, trying to get her to
look at him rather than down at the water. There is a big gap between the rock
she stands on and the next one, and she is terrified to cross. Her moans grow louder. “Angie! Angela.” The man’s tone is even, patient but not
exaggeratedly so, almost matter of fact.




When she still does not respond, both the man and woman step down into
the water and, in what has the look of a practiced maneuver, pick her up by the upper arms and swiftly move her to the next rock. She is large, and at once so limp and so stiff, it is as if they move a life-sized ragdoll. And then they go on with their trek.




Soon they are gone from my field of vision, but I continue
to think of them. Their light, graceful limbs and her heavy, awkward ones, the sun lighting up her sparse wisps of hair.




In my younger years, I could dwell on such a scene indefinitely,
crying over it without really knowing
why. But now I am better at willing myself to forget, at
removing thoughts and images from my mind, almost surgically. Eventually I go back to my book - reading it, then lying face down on it again.




It is not until three days later that I see her. A girl in
a halter dress, riding her bike along the tiny main street.Her left foot is missing a sandal.And she is coasting, round shoulders relaxed, head tilted back, short sandy hair ruffled by the breeze. She is squinting into the sun and
smiling so broadly, I cannot help but grin back reflexively.



In that moment I
recognise her. I look around for the tanned athletic couple, half
expecting them to be following on bikes or watching from the sidewalk. I don't see them. But the girl is unmistakably her. The face, the body, the hair, the
way her clothing does not sit quite right.It is all there and it is all
perfect, in the utter abandon of her posture and smile.