_____________________Nick Hall______________________

It's been one long year since we lost you.

We won't ever forget your friendship or your style.

Thanks for the inspiration to do more, do it better.

The mountains are still out there.

We're still climbing.

Miss you a ton.

100 Miles on the Danube

After more than two years of meaning to but never quite working up to it, I have finally completed my first "century" - a 100 mile ride. It didn't exactly happen as I had envisioned it, but it happened nonetheless. And it was certainly memorable.




The bike you see here is what I rode: It is a Bella Ciao Neorealista with a7-speed hub, front and rear caliper brakes, BrooksB17S saddle, 700Cx35mm Delta Cruiser tires, Berthoud fenders and MKS touring pedals - lent to me by Citybiker in Vienna (thank you!). I decided to try the ride on this bicycle, because it seemed the safest bet of the available options - the others being borrowing a cool roadbike from Wolfgang, or riding Jacqueline. With the roadbike, it generally takes me a while to "dial in" the positioning, and I had no time to experiment. With Jacqueline, I was worried that she might be too heavy and too old for such a long ride. So I took advantage of being able to borrow the Bella Ciao, which seemed to be somewhere in between as far as positioning and also had the benefit of modern components. I felt that I knew what to expect with this bike, since I have a similar one at home and have ridden mine for 30 mile stretches at a time. We lowered the Neorealista handlebars for a more aggressive posture, but otherwise nothing was altered. I was not sure that I'd actually be able to do the ride, but the plan was to go as far as I felt comfortable.





I had brought my Zimbale saddlebag from home and attached it to the bike before I set off. I have no pictures of myself during the course of this ride, but I was wearing pretty much this: wool tights, wool dress, 3/4 length wool overcoat, legwarmers, ankle boots with 2" heels, a hat, and (not pictured) gloves and a scarf. From the forecast I knew that the weather would be cold, mostly in the low 40s. In the event that I got too warm, I planned to take off my coat and attach it to the saddlebag with a bungee cord. In the event it got even colder, I packed an extra sweater. I also packed a pair of padded wool cycling shorts, in case my butt started to hurt on the way back. Aside from that, I packed battery-operated lights, a bottle of apple juice mixed with mineral water and salt, my camera, phone, bank card, cash, notebook, pen, and a packet of Ibuprofen. I did not bother taking a map - since I would simply be following the Danube cycle path.




Before I go on, I must warn you that my photographic documentation of this ride is disappointing. I passed some gorgeous spots, but it wasn't practical to stop and take pictures if I hoped to maintain momentum. So all my photos were taken during food-break stops, which did not necessarily coincide with the scenic moments. I am also disappointed that I do not have a single photo of myself during this trip, as a memento - but I was too cold to mess with the self-timer, and my camera is difficult for strangers to operate.





My trip did not begin according to plan. I had wanted to set off at 7:00 in the morning, but got delayed and was not able to leave until 10:00. With such a late start, I considered postponing to a different day - but my schedule was already full, so this was my only chance to do the ride. I went, making sure the batteries in my lights were fresh. The Danube Canal path is right around the corner from my flat, and within a minute of leaving the house I was on it. I sped through the urban part of the path, and within 15 minutes I reached the junction where the Danube Canal meets the Danube River proper.






I rode without stopping past all of myfavourite spots in the countrysidealong the river and did not take a break until I approached the outskirts of Tulln - a town about 25 miles from the center of Vienna. Things were going well so far: It was cold, but sunny. I was only very slightly tired and nothing hurt or felt uncomfortable on the bike. It was around 12:00 noon, which meant I'd been cycling at 12.5mph on average for two hours straight. So far, so good.I stopped at a cafe with outdoor seating, and had a huge bowl of soup while looking at ships making their way along the river. The sunshine made everything look gorgeous.






My plan was to continue on the Danube cycling path until I reached the town of Krems - a beautiful place in the Wachau valley. At this stage I was exactly half way. Unfortunately, this was the last time I would see nice weather during my ride.





Almost as soon as I got going again, the sunlight faded and the temperature fell. The change was sudden: One minute, everything was bathed in a golden light, and the next the landscape was grim. I was finding it difficult to warm up, even though the mostly flat route meant that I was vigorously pedaling the entire time (no hills means not only no climbing, but also no coasting!) I kept hoping the sunshine would return, but it only got more overcast as I continued cycling.




And then, things got worse: A milky fog descended over the valley. In the middle of the day! Just after Tulln, the Danube path veers away from the river for a few miles, cutting through woods and farmland. The landscape now looked washed out and dingy. Visually I did not mind it, and even found the idea of cycling all alone through fog and desolate fields romantic. But it was difficult to keep warm. The freezing fog was penetrating all my wool layers and getting into my very bones - a deep chill. And then the wind picked up. I pedaled harder and kept my head down.






By 1pm, it became clear that the weather was not likely to improve. It was time for a change of plans: Krems was too good to see for the first time in such bleak light. Instead, I decided to go as far as Traismauer (a town 10 miles closer), and make up the missing miles by getting off the Danube path and doing a longer loop through some of the villages set back from the river. In doing so, I was also hoping to find a cafe that sold hot drinks, as all the ones along this portion of the Danube cycling path were closed for the season.





As far as navigation went, it was not difficult to make my way through the villages. There were signs everywhere announcing what the next village was and which direction to Traismauer. But it was extremely depressing. In good weather, I think the villages would have looked cute. But under overcast skies and enveloped in fog they looked abandoned and sinister. There were very few people out doing any kind of farm work and the few places of businesses that existed were all closed - even though it was a weekday.






I passed though the centers of five or six villages before I finally found one with a functional cafe - which was on the side of a sort of country highway leading to Traismauer. After I drank 3 cups of tea and rested a bit, I spoke to the waitress and learned that this was in fact the only road leading to Traismauer. Hitherto I had been cycling along small village streets, but this was a big road with an 80km/h speed limit. I decided to go ahead and brave it.





My companions during this stretch of the trip were mainly trucks and tractors. The trucks went very fast. The tractors went very slowly. The odd sportscar would occasionally zoom past as well. We all got along and I never felt endangered. My stamina, on the other hand, seemed to be nearly depleted and I had barely even cycled 60 miles. Please do not underestimate what I wrote earlier about a flat landscape meaning that you don't have the opportunity to coast. Pedaling the entire time, I was starting to feel like a mechanical doll. Traismauer was further away that I'd realised, and it felt as if I were cycling on the edge on that highway forever.





But finally, I was unmistakably there: This town was surrounded by a medieval wall and I cycled right through the gate.






At one time there must also have been a moat. Now it was reduced to a sort of stream along the back part of the wall, with a modern bridge going across.






Under normal circumstances, I might have been excited by Traismauer. But now I just felt depleted. The cold weather, the fog, the lack of sunshine, the non-stop pedaling with the wind in my face - it had all beaten me down.





I circled around the town, then followed the signs to the train station. I am not proud of it, but yes - at this point I decided to cut my trip short and take the train back. It was already 3 pm and the most direct route home was over 40 miles. I didn't think I could handle it. At the station I learned that the next train to Vienna was not until 8:20pm, which was a long time to wait around. I decided to get something to eat while thinking about what to do next.





Turned out that I wasn't so much tired as just very hungry. Once I inhaled whatever it was that I bought at the food stand, my attitude suddenly improved and by 4pm I was ready to get back on the bike.





My plan now was to cycle the 15 miles back to Tulln - on the Danube cycling path and not through the villages this time - and see how I'd feel once I got there. The trains in Tulln ran more regularly, so if I was tired or did not want to continue in the dark, I would then take the train the rest of the way back.





Energised by the nutritional infusion, I pedaled enthusiastically for the next hour. Just as the light was fading, the sun started to come out and the fog dissipated - but it was late and I really wasn't able to stop and capture the beautiful scenery. There is a stretch at some point where the cycling path interrupts entirely, and cyclists must transition to the road for 2-3 miles. The route is signposted, but these signs are very small and have no provisions for being seen in the dark. The scenario I wanted to avoid, was cycling through this stretch once it had already gotten dark.





But of course, that is exactly what happened. I raced against the sunset, but despite my best efforts ended up cycling on the road with car traffic in rural darkness - squinting to find the signs instructing where to turn in order to get back onto the cycling path. It was just past 6pm now and there were lots of cars on the road - going quite fast, which was scary. I was starting to despair, when I noticed what was obviously another bicycle tail light in front of me. It was an elderly man, cycling with a sack of turnips strapped to his rear rack. I called out to him, asking if this was the right way to the cycle path. He replied that it was, and gestured for me to follow him. We "pacelined" for the next mile or so and then I followed him through an opening in the fields and we were on the Danube path. He then waved and turned around, and I realised that he'd gone out of his way only to show me how to get back on the path. I yelled "Danke vielmals!!" and waved wildly. This was my only interaction with another cyclist during the course of this ride.




Once in Tulln, I kept on going. It was already pitch black and my legs already felt as if someone else was controlling them, so it seemed I could just keep going this way. The last 20 miles of the trip felt like a trance. My headlight beam, the shadows of tree branches, the sounds of howling coming from the woods and the occasional lights of ships along the Danube felt like a dream. My wheels turned and turned and my feet pedaled and pedaled in as high as gear as I could manage. It wasn't a bad feeling, like an out of body experience. But I remember thinking "Hmm, I probably won't be able to walk tomorrow."





By the time my shaking hand retrieved the house key from my coat, it was almost exactly 8pm: 10 hours after I left. I had spent a total of an hour and a half taking breaks, which means that my average speed was 11.75 mph. I think that's not too bad for being on an upright bike and riding dressed as I was.I assumed that I would collapse upon coming home, but then a friend rang up and invited me for a drink. I went, and ended up staying out until midnight. The next morning I woke up at 8am and, to my astonishment, felt fine. I cycled around the city for transportation all day just as I normally do. There was hardly any evidence that I had ridden 100 miles the day before. My right shoulder was sore, and my sit bones were just a tad sensitive. However, there was no pain in my legs or knees, and I had plenty of energy. I expected to be wrecked, and this was almost anticlimactic.




This trip was not how I'd imagined completing my first "century." I was riding a city bike bundled up in an overcoat, the weather was horrible, and the countryside was at its bleakest. But I found the experience fulfilling, beyond just checking off a box. I relished the feel of being self-sufficient - not in the safety net of a group ride or a companion's presence, but alone in the middle of nowhere, amidst a stark landscape in a foreign country, and feeling as if I did not need to worry, because I was on a bike and could therefore do anything. It's what cycling is about for me. And I think I'm ready for a longer ride.

Moving On :: A Jog in the Road Back

Monday, August 30th - - Highway 37A west from Cassiar Highway (in British Columbia) is also known as Glacier Highway. Though the clouds had moved in and were hovering over the tops of the mountains, portions of a few of the glaciers could be seen from the highway, which began in a wide valley but soon narrowed. A river on the left and the mountains on both sides dominated the views. Numerous waterfalls and streams could be seen cascading down the sides of the mountains. Along with the clouds came the rain, sometimes heavy, and I drove slowly through the valley, savoring its beauty.

One of the streams/waterfalls that drop hundreds of feet down the mountain side along the Glacier Highway.

Halfway to Stewart the valley expanded once more. A first glimpse of Stewart, in the rain and early evening twilight, was not impressive. It looked drab and run-down. I passed by an RV Park and went on to the Municipal Campground, which was in a heavily forested area. It looked dark under the trees even though it was still early evening. But it offered flush toilets and hot showers, so it got the nod for the night!

==========

Tuesday, August 31st - - Stewart didn't look much better when I drove through town this morning. It was drizzling rain and it was foggy. Visualize a small town in America in the 1950s then move forward 60 years but make no changes to the town. Old buildings add character to a place but most of these buildings were way past their prime.

I stopped at the Visitor Center, which appeared to be one of the newest buildings in town, and picked up a self-guiding car-tour map of the road that goes to Hyder, Alaska and which continues on to Salmon Glacier. I was informed by the nice lady that it is a dirt road but once you get through Hyder and beyond the Bear Viewing Platform and get back into British Columbia, the road is well maintained and in good condition. The implication was that the U.S. portion of the road wasn't in good shape. Well, it wasn't implied, she came right out and said that the U.S. portion of the road was terrible! It had potholes and washboard areas and was narrow in spots – but it was only for a couple of miles. It's safe, she said, just take it easy.

Throwing caution to the wind, I drove up that road. Slowly and carefully, taking it easy. I've avoided traveling on dirt/gravel roads as much as possible. I just don't like them. But sometimes you have to risk it and hope that the risks are worth the rewards. They were.

Hyder, Alaska (four miles from downtown Stewart) is a small town of 100 happy souls, and one old grouch. So says a sign on one of the old, rugged buildings. The dirt road, the rain, and the fog didn't add much to the appeal of the place. There were about 20 old buildings (some were in use as small shops) and two RV Parks along with a Post Office and a General Store.

I stopped at the Bear Viewing Platform (about 3 miles from Hyder) that is managed by the National Forest Service. No bears were in sight and none had been seen yet today. The Ranger said a mother with her cubs usually comes in about noon and again about six o'clock. It was only nine so I continued on to Salmon Glacier seventeen miles further up the road.

Six miles from the Bear Viewing Platform, I crossed back into British Columbia. And the road got considerably better, as promised. All this time the road is going up. And it keeps going up as well as winding itself around the side of the mountain. And it is still drizzling rain. Ten miles further there is a turnout and I get my first look at Salmon Glacier. Splendid!

The river of ice fills the valley below and continues on up and around the mountain peak on the left. Those black streaks are dirt and rocks that the glacier has picked up as it moves imperceptibly over the mountains.

It would not be an easy task, if even possible, to hike over this.
Crevasses and holes would make it a rather treacherous journey. These aren't just ripples in the surface, they are deep. Perhaps a hundred feet or more.

Salmon Glacier from another turnout two miles north. The clouds and fog obscured the little bit of sun that occasionally came through.

The Salmon Glacier is the fifth largest glacier in Canada and is a remnant of the last glaciation period which occurred 14,000 years ago. What I saw and what is shown here are but a very small portion of the glacier which extends way back beyond the horizon.

The sun did make an appearance now and then and the rain finally stopped - briefly. Down in the valley and a few miles to the south are the towns of Hyder, Alaska and Stewart, British Columbia.

Even more slowly than going up, I made my way back down the mountain. I stopped at the Bear Viewing Platform for about 45 minutes. Saw a lot of Chum Salmon in the river, both dead and spawning, but no bears. And the sun was, once more, hidden by the clouds.

I returned to Cassiar Highway and the long drive south, stopping at the town of Smithers for the night. And the rain? It seems that it was the first that Stewart/Hyder had seen in two months! And it followed me to Smithers where I learned that they too hadn't had rain for many weeks.

Hoya Vine

And here, finely, is a half way decent photo of one of my hoya vines flowering. I have been trying each time it blooms to get a good photo and this is the best yet but still not as good as some I have seen online. There are hundreds of these kind of vines but all have simular flowers even though the leaves might be different. This leaf is long with white spots. And some have flowers that are very from a pale white to this dark pink. This one has a lot of sweet sent to it. In fact I find the sent so powerful that I don't like it, and frequently have to cut the flowers off and throw them out. This one hasn't been as bad this time. As they dry they shed their flowers all over the floor under them which can be a problem, too. But I love the hoya vine as it is so easy to grow and care for. I treat mine very simular to a cactus as they take only a little more water than a cactus but do like good light.

Flag Day! (and some other stuff)

Most likely this picture, from my grandmother's files, was taken on the Fourth of July rather than Flag Day, but I thought it was appropriate for today.


My mother is the little girl on the left and she looks to be about 2 years old, so I'm guessing it was taken about 1930. Patty and Phyllis are Mom's sisters. Gene and Mary are their cousins. Grandma Bill was their grandmother.

Scanning Update: In the last 10 days I've scanned another 710 images for a total of 1680 over the past two months. I don't scan every day but when I do, I usually spend 3-4 hours at a time scanning. And it has been averaging about 25 scans per hour. Of course, that's not including the time spent in sorting and organizing them prior to scanning. LOL. Slow going and no light at the end of the tunnel yet.

Full Feed vs. Partial Feed? This topic comes up periodically in the blogosphere, this time it was brought up by genea-blogger Tim Agazio. When I first started blogging I set my blog for full feeds. Then it came to my attention that my content was being scraped so I switched to partial feeds. I'm not blogging to make money. I want people to read what I write (and hopefully they find it interesting) but I'd also like for them to visit my blog (to leave comments and check out some of the links to other blogs and websites). The thing with feeds is that they don't retain any formatting in the post and sometimes pictures throw off the continuity or "flow" of the post but I guess that is what they are supposed to do - present the posts in a simplified text format for easier reading. So, with that said, I've switched back to full feeds, at least for now.

Toys for Kittens

There are lots and lots of ways to entertain a kitten. It is not necessary to go to the store and buy fancy, expensive toys for cats. First -- as seen in the photo-- is the stuffed animal. I have found that boxes are a favorite as seen in the following pictures. Wiley our new kitty loves the boxes that RC Cola come in. At this time he is about 8 weeks and still fits into one. Our grown cats need something a big bigger. Easter eggs, the plastic kind, are a good toy. They roll but not straight like a ball. Wiley will carry a half an egg in his mouth that is open. He likes to carry wadded up copy paper. Plastic water bottles are good as they don't roll straight either. Drop a couple of pebbles in it to rattle. You can try egg cartons, pens, and pen caps. pieces of candy wrapper, crunched up cigarette packages, old socks with a knot in them, plastic cups, and small bowls.
Of course they love string and pieces of rope but this should only be used with supervision as they can choke to death on a string very quickly.
Remember to never let them have plants, or anything sharp to play with. All house plants should be considered poisonous as there is no telling how an individual cat will react if they eat part of one. The same with all medicines. Never give a cat any kind of medicine with out your vets approval . Even aspirin can be deadly to cats. Never give a cat things like needles, straight pens, or any tiny object that it could swallow. A sudden death or big vet bill is not fun for the kitty or you.
Just like children and puppies, cats shouldn't have plastic bags to play with. To the kitten it looks like fun, but they can suffocate quickly if it gets over their head.
Remember your kitten is a baby. He needs frequent rests while playing. If you keep encouraging him to play he will, but could get overly tired and become sick.
Just a few of the things I have remembered since I now have a kitten.

*Alpine Mentors* and Steve House?

The American alpinist Steve House - © archive Steve House



"Alpine Mentors promotes alpinism by encouraging, coaching and climbing with technically proficient young alpinists who aspire to climb the worldʼs greatest mountains in a lightweight, low-impact style."



http://www.alpinementors.org/



I think this is a GREAT idea!



But it aint a give away either.



This is one of the questions on the application.



"You are climbing the 1938 route on the north face of the Eiger. The first day you manage to get to Death bivouac, half way up the route. That night a storm comes in and you are pinned down for 3 days. You started with three days of food and fuel, but by being careful, you have saved a small amount of both. You have a partner of equal experience, 6 cams, 4 pitons, 6 nuts, 4 ice screws, and 2 60 meter ropes. You have no radio or cell phone and no chance for outside help. It is 10 degrees F and has snowed 12" in the past 24 hours. What is going through your mind and what would you do?"