Raspberries

Raspberries, originally uploaded by ParsecTraveller.

Berries for sale at the SLO Farmers' Market.

Breaking Away

A luckless morning. I had attempted to join a 100K club ride, only to get an important phone call as I pulled up to the start. By the time I got done the others were nearly an hour ahead. I would never catch up. I decided to ride the route anyway.




The weather had been beautiful. But as I set off, it began to rain - cold, hard little drops, carried sideways by the wind, sharp against my face.




On the road there was more traffic than usual. A mile in, adriver cut me off and I barely avoided a collision.Still fuming over this, I began to notice that my throat hurt. I was hot and cold. I felt sluggish. Maybe I was running a fever.Maybe I should count my losses.




A deep irritation over a day wasted was building up. Workdays that have no clear end or beginning. A weak constitution that has derailed my plans one time too many. If it's not one thing, it's another.








For some miles, it was angry riding. Riding a wave of frustration. But I pedaled. Mechanical motions. Round and round. Rain and chills, traffic, scratchy throat, round and round. "Oh shut up," my legs said to my throat. We would break away.




I had the sense that once I was a certain number of miles out, it would all resolve itself, because turning back would no longer make sense. Concord, West Concord, Maynard. I pedaled harder.




But then came a moment of doubt. I had not meant to be on my own with my thoughts on this day. What would I doout there, for hours, with all these thoughts? "Oh shut up" my legs said to my brain.




And we broke away.





20 miles in. As if someone had waved a magic wand, the cars were gone. The sun came out. The pedals lost their resistance. We floated up hills.My mind emptied.




In Still River I passed aBenedictine monastery. It stands on top of a hill, overlooking a green and blue rolling landscape. Slowly I rode through it, not seeing a single person on its grounds. The monks must have been indoors.




In Boxborough I stopped at a farm. It had visitor hours and notices posted, but looked abandoned. With my bike, I stood in the middle of a field dotted with white barns, thinking of nothing. I heard ringing in the air. The field was full of dandelions.






The climb leading up to the Fruitlands was shorter and tamer than I remembered. Today, the hill was an invisible host, gently taking me by the arm and leading me to the view.




At the hilltop, I had the place to myself. No cars were parked at the scenic overview along the side of the road. No cyclists passed. I had made it all alone up there and the world felt far, far away. The sun flickered through thick clouds, a flood of light going on and off.I looked down at the little mountain clusters across the state line. The entire world felt close.






Descending into town, I remembered that I had not eaten for hours and stopped at the general store. When I ordered coffee and a sandwich, it felt strange to talk - as if I hadn't spoken out loud in years. Was I even saying the right words? The boy behind the counter had an inscrutably friendly face that had seen many cyclists.






Orchards and orchards on the return leg. The apple orchards have such neat rows of such crooked,erratic-lookingtrees. Line-dancing trees. Shaker trees.




This ride was coming to an end much too fast, I thought. I wasn't ready. And I veered off course onto another road, with more uphill floating, more orchards.






But at length, unfamiliar farms gave way to familiar ones, a gentle reminder of being homeward bound. Then finally, the bikepath, and the city - with 100 miles on the computer and frustration a faint memory.




Sometimes if you just keep pedaling, everything else breaks away, falls away. If you keep pedaling, the mind quiets down.

Tombstone Tuesday :: John and Catherine Brubaker

John Brubaker, my 3rd great grandfather, is buried in Barnes Chapel Cemetery, Rock Creek Township, Huntington County, Indiana. His stone is in the middle, foreground. On the left is his 11 month old son, Franklin who died on March 6, 1865 and on the right is his wife, Catherine. Most of their children are buried at Barnes Chapel or in neighboring Star of Hope Cemetery, which is a short distance to the north.





JOHN BRUBAKER / DIED / Feb 8, 1879 / AGED / 59 Ys. 8 Ms. 17Ds.

Remember friends as you pass by.
As you are now so once was I.
As I am now so you must be.
Prepare for death and follow me.

CATHARINE / Wife of / JOHN BRUBAKER / DIED / March 8, 1877 / AGED / 55 Yrs & 4 Ds.

Davis Mountains Sunset

As stated in the previous post, the CCC built a nice road to the top of the peak on the southeast side of the campground. This made it quite convenient for watching the sun rise and set, as well as just general good views of the countryside. I did make it up there one morning but usually, when evening came around, that's where you could find me, along with half a dozen other people. These photographs were all taken on March 7th when Mother Nature put on a very impressive show!

Looking to the east, the hills bathed in the warm glow of the waning sun.

It had been cloudy all day long (the big pooffy type of clouds) and this monstrous cloud hovered over the distant mountains just as the sun was setting.

The wonders of a 7x zoom lens and Mother Nature. Quite a combination!

Generally, by the time the sun falls below the horizon, most of the other people have left the top of the hill. But they often miss out on the best part of the show. The light gets softer, the colors more delicate.

And if you look to either side of where the sun has set, you will often see a magnificent color show.

And this is when I get frustrated with the auto focus of my digital camera – it can't focus if it doesn't have light – and I wish (very briefly) for my old 35mm manual focus camera!

Sunday at Ohiopyle State park

Laura in non typical climbing clothes, imitating an old west gunfight?

Are you sure we're going climbing?

Last night it was a tough call whether to pack for big ice or mix climbing. Laura and I are itching to get in some real local ice and were hoping to climb at SCII. After a little discussion we decided that conditions would most likely not be favorable enough to climb. So we packed up with mixed climbing in mind, leaving the sharp crampons and ice screws at home for a better day. Ohiopyle State park would be our destination. We were going to enjoy the results from yesterdays work. I put in some time equipping a line that we've top roped before at Bruner Run. Its a beautiful line up through overhangs and seams with some funky corner moves. It'll involve spicy gear placements in between bolted blank sections. The route overhangs about 15' in 55' of climbing.

Doing work son!

Steep, overhanging, mixed climbing

Figuring some moves, clearing some cracks, all in a days work!

The sign at the gate on Bruner Run Road. If the gate is open drive to the crag

at the bottom,otherwise its a steep walk down and back.

We set off to Bruner Run only to find the gate at the top of the road leading down to the river closed due to current icy conditions. Bummed by the road closure Laura and decided to visit Lower Meadow Run instead and save the new line for another day. Instead of heading straight to Lower Meadow, we decided to go check conditions at SCII to see how they faired after the several days of warm weather last week. Upon arrival we found the summit to have quite a bit more snow blanketing the ground. We booted up and hiked down to check it out. Conditions are looking way better than I expected. Here's a photo of what it looked like today.

Laura checking ice conditions dressedin

her Patagucci SCII camo edition softshell

Conditions looked better than I expected and some of the ice obviously made it through the last warm up. If the temps stay cold at night things will most likely continue to improve. For now the water is flowing nicely and there is still hope for some climbs this season. After a quick look we hiked back to the car and made the drive back to Ohiopyle to climb at Lower Meadow.



We hiked back across the bridge and up the stream to the crag. The icicles were hanging everywhere. The Main Flow has touched down and is building quick, but will most likely not survive the week as have most of the ice lines. The mixed lines are dripping, but climbable. Caveman is running the most and will involve some serious wet misery if climbed. Anger Management has some usable ice on it, but the finish is not in its thick icy state. Usually this line is about a grade easier without the ice up there, but rules out any pro from the last bolt to the finish. We decided to climb Season Finale a traditionally protected M6 R. This climb is always spooky. Its only about 35' long but packs quite a punch. The minimal gear placements are in questionable rock with the only solid piece being 5' from the finish, after the crux. The climb went well with a little mind management and some encouragement from Laura. I thought I was coming off just after placing the last and best piece on the route. I was getting pumped quick. There was no fear of falling and being injured at this point, but there was the fear of having to repeat that piss poor protected crux again. I hung on and made the last few burly moves to the anchors. Here's some shots of me on the climb.

Making the most of the ice?

Getting a pice below the crux

Working through the crux

A little further to the anchors

The ground shots don't do this route much justice. What it lacks in height it makes up for in spice. Most find the line to be much harder than expected. Here's another perspective. Laura cleaning the route.

Laura starting up

Laura hanging tough through the crux

Getting rough

Removing the last cam fried Laura and a hang was in order

A short rest had Laura cranking through the thin ice finish

It was a great climb and I'd highly recommend it to anyone thats solid at the grade and proficient at placing gear! If you think its a little over your head and aren't ready to tie into the sharp end, don't feel left out. Its an easy hike to the top and the ring anchors make it easy to rig this climb on top rope and provide hours of fun mixed climbing practice.

Unfamiliar with Ohiopyle climbing? Get in touch... I'll provide the info you need to get climbing in this neck of the woods.

Southwest Rock Art

Along the first leg of our journey back to Minnesota we made a couple of short side trips from I-70 to some rock art sites. The first of these was the "Head of Sinbad" rock art site. This is some of the best preserved rock art in the southwest. According to local literature these pictographs are at least 3,000 years old.



































































The second site we checked out was Sego Canyon. Unlike the Head of Sinbad panel, some of the Sego Canyon pictographs have experienced a lot of vandalism. There was one panel, however, that was high enough on the canyon wall that it was relatively untouched by vandals. According to the BLM, Sego Canyon contains 3 culturally distinct styles of rock art: Fremont, Ute and Barrier-style. After these quick stops we got back on the Interstate and continued our journey home.

Assateague Island :: Sunrise

One of the things I had promised myself that I would do while at Assateague was to get up early enough to watch the sunrise over the marsh. The first three mornings had already gone by and I hadn't gotten up in time but when Friday morning (October 23rd) rolled around, I awoke before the sun was over the horizon. The clouds in the sky were bathed in streaks of orange and pink. It turned out to be a spectacular sunrise. One of the best. Ever. Mother Nature outdid herself that morning.

7:00 a. m. Walking over to the marsh boardwalk.
It was cold. And Dark.
But I just knew it would be worth the effort.
That was an understatement.

7:07 a. m. From the middle of the boardwalk.

7:13 a. m. From the far side of the boardwalk.
Looking just a little to the south of the sun.
The sky and marsh were completely bathed in wonderful light.

7:18 a. m. From a distance, using the telephoto feature.
Looking directly into the rising sun. Magnificent.

7:22 a. m. From the same spot as the previous photo.
Longer telephoto setting.
The sun rising over the horizon.

7:24 a. m. The morning has risen.
Breathtakingly beautiful. Quiet. Tranquil.
All mine, and mine alone. Until now, when I share it with you.

7:32 a. m. My only companions were the birds.
A small flock of Snowy Egrets.