Shipwreck

This is what is left of the Peter Iredale that ran aground October 25, 1906. I had seen it before in .. but there was more of it showing this time. About all that is left is the metal parts of the ship and just a few of the pieces of wood under the top part where they are a little bit more protected. It is one of the few shipwrecks that people are alowed to right up to and explore around it and as you can see in the photo even on it. There were some young men who climbed up on top and sat there while we took photos. They were having a great time and I envied them their ability to get up there.

Crater Lake Revisited

Saturday, October 1st - - Last year I spent three beautiful days at Crater Lake National Park (September 24th through the 26th). And though this visit was just a week later than last year, the weather was much different – colder and cloudier, though not quite as windy – and the campground was closed as were many other facilities in the park.



This time, the visit was a short one – just a few hours – but it was sort of on my way. I don't know why, but this is a special place for me. It is exquisitely beautiful. Magical. Perhaps it is the startling color of the water – it's like nothing I've ever seen anywhere else.



Last year I had taken a series of pictures hoping to “merge” them together into a panoramic view, but never got around to doing it. And now I have this fancy new camera that does that for me! You really, really need to double-click on these images for a larger view...





This view was taken at Rim Village on the south side of Crater Lake.



This is from the southwest side near Discovery Point.



And, this is from the west side at Watchman Overlook.

Those few patches of white on the west side (left) of Wizard Island are piles of snow that are “left over” from last years record snowfall.





Surprisingly, there were quite a few other people there – but take a few steps along one of the trails and the people seem to disappear. Not many travel those paths this time of year. It would be easy to lose yourself in a place like this. The mind wanders into mysterious places while you're watching the movements of the clouds and the water. Time passes quickly, too quickly, but it is a two hour drive to the next campground and it is getting late in the afternoon. Reluctantly, I leave. Hoping that some day I may return again to spend a little more time in this place.

Undercurrents

[image via reuters]

I have tried to distract myself from dwelling on the situation in Japan, but I am finding it difficult to concentrate on other matters. So I am going to go ahead and share some thoughts here, and I thank you in advance for bearing with me.



My thoughts are disorganised and saturated with emotion: a horrible sense of dread that I try to bury or rationalise away without success. The earthquake and the subsequent tsunami experienced by Japan are an indescribable tragedy and I've yet to determine whether any of my acquaintances have been affected. Andunless nuclear disaster from the damaged power stations is averted, the situation will become considerably worse. Not only will thousands of unfortunate people trapped as a result of the earthquake be immediately exposed to radiation, but who knows how many thousands (millions?) of others may not be able to evacuate in time. And it is impossible to predict (or even to calculate after the fact) how many of those living further away will suffer long-term health damage.



When the Chernobyl disaster occurred in 1986, radiation spread over a huge area, encompassing much of Eastern and Northern Europe. As a child living within this greater region at the time, I remember vividly my second grade teacher explaining the effects of radiationto the class. We were told about what happens to the body and what kind of illnesses one could develop. We were warned to stay indoors, to keep the windows closed, and not to eat any fruits and vegetables for the time being. For years afterward, no matter where in the world we lived, my parents carefully read food labels just to make sure they weren't imported from anywhere near "there." When one experiences this type of event at a young age, it gets incorporated into their world-view as part of the psychological development process and stays there. The inherent trust between human and nature is broken.



The Fukushima Nuclear Power Plant is not Chernobyl. For one thing, as I understand it, graphite is not used in Fukushima's reactors - which is what was responsible for creating such a massive explosion in Chernobyl and carrying the radiation over large distances. Still, it is impossible to accurately predict how events might unfold, should the worst happen this time around. And while many dismissed the Chernobyl disaster as something that could only happen under the Soviet regime, that certainly no longer appears to be the case.



I don't want to venture out of my depth here and express opinions about the pros and cons of nuclear power, government transparency and so on. I only wish to say that this could happen anywhere, in any region, and it can impact the regions around it. It can impact us all - physically and psychologically. As I follow the progress of Japan's containment efforts, all I can do is try to control my anxiety and think positively. With all my might, I hope for the best for the people of Japan. Thank you all for reading this.Lovely Bicycle is not a forum for environmental issues and I recognise that this post is tangentially appropriate at best.I hope that getting this off my chest will help me continue with regular posts.

Wordless Wednesday :: Stone's Trace

The Tavern at Stone's Trace. Built in 1839. South of Ligonier, Indiana.

Bartering at the encampment.

Photographs taken on September 6, ...
Copyright © .. by Rebeckah R. Wiseman.

Williamsburg From My Window

I was sharing with my friend Laurie that I have only used my camera one day this month. I knew she would get the symbolism there. I've not went more than three days without having my camera out since we hit the road.



To put it bluntly, I've been in a serious funk. No one thing led to this funk. Rather it was a combination of things: regretting our decision to stay here so many weeks instead of traveling, facing some realities about some of the relationships in my life, facing some stuff about myself and my role in those relationships, grieving the imagined loss of some things if we stay put in one place and dealing with bored men. Oh, and the dog smells really bad and needs a bath but she hates baths so we haven't tackled it yet. Since I'm hyper-sensitive to icky smells, that alone would be enough to put me in a funk.

So I knew I had to make myself take my camera with us when we went out today. I'm so glad I did. It was exactly what the doctor ordered.

There is hardly a town that could soothe my soul more than this one. It's just lovely in that All American sort of way. There are the parts that are more widely known about Williamsburg parts. Like this section that is blocked off so no cars can drive there. It makes it so nice to walk around.

There are also the not so widely known things, that are still really neat to look at.

As much as I enjoy seeing where people play, this time I focused on where people live. Because as much as I have no desire to live in a house myself , I am still touched by the human element of people and their houses. I find myself thinking, this is where someone lives. This is where they share their lives together. This is where a family is being made. This is where people let down their masks and honest and raw exchanges take place. It's where love and hate and all of the other range of emotions are displayed. It's where wounds are made and wounds are healed. It's pretty powerful stuff if you think about it.

It did me good to ponder such things today. I feel lighter for it. I'll share more tomorrow.



Living the life in Virginia!

Bicycle Shopping: What Do We Expect?

Last week, I wrote about my sister's search for a basic, comfortable roadbike and in the post I explained that she is looking for a "normal" bike - That is, for a bike that is neither vintage, nor classic, nor lugged, nor artisanal - just a regular bike in the sense that one could walk into a bicycle shop off the street and buy it for a reasonable price. Once again I thank you all for the feedback, which was immensely helpful, and I will post an update regarding what bike she ends up getting. But on a separate note, I was intrigued by the category of replies that "pathologized" the way I described my sister's criteria - a few even questioning whether she ought to be buying a bike at all under the circumstances. Those comments made me think about expectations when it comes to bicycle shopping. And frankly, I think that "we" - i.e. those of us who are "into" bicycles, and especially into classic and vintage bicycles - can be out of touch with what people who "just want a bike" expect. Here are some of my observations about first time bike buyers' expectations that I've gathered from personal conversations and reader emails over the past two years:



It's toocomplicated

I think it is accurate to say that most people off to buy their first bicycle as an adult initially expect for the experience to be fairly simple. They envision being able to walk into a bike shop, to ask for some advice, and to walk out with a nice shiny bike. And I don't think that this attitude makes them "lazy" or "not committed to cycling." I think it is an entirely normal and healthy attitude. Unfortunately, hopes for simplicity are all too frequently crushed as bicycle shopping turns frustrating. The bicycles suggested at bike shops are often uncomfortable or otherwise unappealing, and the customer does not know how to express what exactly does not feel right. Purchasing a bicycle should be simple. But I believe that both bicycle shops and the industry at large are out of touch with what customers actually need.



It's too expensive

I receive lots of emails from people looking to buy their first bike, and the figure $500 comes up over and over again as theupperlimit of their budget - regardless of how well off the person is. While that expectation is unrealistic, I think that from the customer's point of view - assuming that they are not familiar with the industry - it is reasonable. Once they get to know the market a little better, chances are that they will come to terms with spending considerably more on a bike than they initially expected to. I blame this discrepancy on the industry and not on the customer being "cheap." In theory, large manufacturers could churn out attractive and functional bikes for $500, but for a variety of reasons, they do not.



I don't want to be a bike expert, I just want to rideI hear this one repeatedly, and I agree. Wanting to buy a bike should not require one to become an expert in bikes first. There is a difference between cycling and being "into bicycles," and it is perfectly normal to be the former without becoming the latter.

The fact is, that those of us who enjoy customising bicycles, building up bicycles from the frame up, hunting for rare parts and refurbishing vintage bikes, seeking out unique and unusual bicycles that are only available in specialty shops, and so on... are not in the majority, and I think we need to respect that. Most people - even those who are excited about cycling - just want to go to a "regular" bike shop, buy a bike, ride it without problems, and fiddle as little with it as possible. There is nothing wrong with that, and I think it would be misguided of me to try and convince everyone I meet that my preferences are "better." And in fact I don't think they are better; they are just different.



I would venture to say that a large percentage of would-be cyclists in North America are turned off from cycling by the discrepancy between their expectations and their actual experiences, when it comes to buying their first bicycle. And it seems to me that rather than blame the "victim," it would be more useful to rethink how the bicycle industry approaches potential customers. I have spoken to way too many people at this point who've told me that they'd love to cycle but are having terrible luck finding a bike. And that just isn't right.

Snorkeling at Bahia Honda State Park

The older kids drove down to join us today, and we headed over to Bahia Honda to do some snorkeling. We had a big rain storm all day yesterday so it was a bit chilly and the water was too cloudy to see anything. We had fun anyways. We were there when the sun was beginning to set. As glorious as I think the beach is, I think being there at sunrise and sunset makes it a million times more glorious.



The kids waded out in the water first and I could tell by their expressions that the water was cold. Once they got out there, they had fun. Here they are laughing at who knows what. It doesn't even matter what, because when I see my kids laughing-all is right with my world.





I am always fascinated by the birds at the beach. It's hard not to want to snap a million pictures of them!







I'm more fascinated by this though. This is what makes my heart sing. I love these people!



They are laughing again. This time I know what they are laughing at though.



Dad is doing his duck walk into the water. It's the simple things in life that make our day. What can I say? We are easily entertained in this family.



Aren't they beautiful? Even if they are using their dad as a source of entertainment, they are really beautiful!



Life is good! Living it in Sunny Florida!

More Ohio From My Window

One nice thing about the new job we are doing is that we drive around and see even more of a local area than we did before. And if I tag along and help Nathan out, then that means I can take pictures while we drive around. I really love that!

I'm really enjoying being in this area during the summer months. With all the fields full of growing corn, it just feels like summer to me when I look around. Is it weird that I keep wanting to stop, take my shoes off and lie down in one of these fields and smell and feel the earthiness there? Because that is what I keep finding myself thinking when I do look at the life that is so abundant in the fields. After years of living in Florida, it's kind of nice to have this season feel special rather than having what feels like year round summer until you don't appreciate it so much.



On the other hand, I do love winters in Florida so while I love this area right now...not so much in the winter. Because it is just not quite the same taking your shoes off and lying down in the fields then. Unless you are making snow angels that is.



It really is some beautiful landscape to look at while driving and the people are just wonderful here.



Living the life in Ohio!

Sunroom Painted

These came out kind of dark but this is the sunroom after we painted it. It is a kind of ivory color called White Shell. It was a bit of a chalange to paint with the help of four cats but we got it done. Now we have to do the celling as you can see in the upper corner of the first photo it is not finished. But first things first and we have outside chores to do first.

Through the Hedge Backwards

On Monday morning I went on a scouting ride to theDark Hedges. The site is just outside the village of Armoy, about 10 miles inland from where I am staying. The inland roads here are flat-ish by local standards. The weather was looking good. It would be a nice and easy ride. And of course, I would finally see the mysterious old trees. I had elaborate photographic plans for them.



I set off after having breakfast in town. As a reader has astutely noted after a previous post,every exit from Ballycastle is uphill. I picked one that was relatively mild - though not the mildest, as I wanted to avoid the congested main road that leads out of town. The climbing began straight away.







The terrain in Antrim is difficult to describe to someone who has never been here. Coming from New England, it was a jolt to my system. We do have hills in New England of course, but they are "rollers" mainly - relatively short, if steep, ups and downs where the momentum from a descent can be used to get up the next hill fairly easily. If we want more serious hills than that - either steeper or more sustained climbs - we have to seek them out. And almost any route involves plenty of flat stretches as well, providing opportunities to rest from climbing and descending.




Here in Antrim it is rather different. Most routes I have ridden so far have consisted of long climbs at a mild grade, punctuated by shorter but steeper climbs. There are almost no truly flat stretches, along the central part of the coast at least, no opportunities to rest. It is either a long up or a long down. Even at a mild grade, sustained climbs are draining for someone who is not accustomed to them. Being used to New England terrain, I have learned to "attack" hills, but that approach does not work here. When there is no end in sight, attacking just saps energy - it is far better to relax, get into a low gear, settle in, and spin while enjoying the view.




The landscape en route to Armoy is pretty enough. But on the coast of Antrim one soon gets spoiled with astonishingly dramatic views, and these were fairly plain in comparison. Farms mostly, stone walls, lots of adorable lambs basking in the sunshine.





The morning was a sunny one, but the skies were a dark slate-gray. The combination created a moody landscape that I kept wanting to stop and photograph. But I decided against taking photos until the return trip, because I wanted to make it to my destination while the weather was good. You never know here from one hour to the next.






Still, half way through I was seduced by a particularly fetching view of heavy skies over a dilapidated farm house. I could not help myself and stopped to take a quick picture.




No sooner than I took out my camera and composed the shot, the sun disappeared. Now it was just the dark sky, and the scene looked rather dismal. As I debated whether to wait for the sun to re-emerge or get back on the bike, it began to rain - so suddenly that I barely had time to shove my camera back inside the handlebar bag.




And then I felt something sharp on my face. What the...?




All at once, it was hailing. Hard. The morning light disappeared entirely as shards of ice pelted the earth - and me - with violent force. At first I was too stunned to do or even think anything. Then I began to panic. I had stopped in the middle of nowhere, with the nearest settlement 5 miles away in either direction. There was no shelter here - no trees, no canopy of any kind. The dilapidated farm house was separated by a barb wire fence, so I could not hide out in it. The temperature kept dropping. The hail kept falling. "Am I going to perish here?" I thought. I did not know what to do.




But then I realised... that I didn't really need to "do" anything other than pull up the hood of my raincoat. I had dressed warmly. I was wearing a waterproof coat and shoes. Everything was fine. I could simply enjoy this natural phenomenon... and hope there would be no lightning.





Thankfully, there wasn't. The hail soon let up and it was just the rain now. I got back on the bike and soon reached the village of Armoy. The Dark Hedges would only be a few miles from here.





I should mention that I had seen no other cyclists on this route up to this point, and very few motor vehicles had passed me outside of settled areas. It was just me, all alone, in what was now almost comically terrible weather.






When I reached the village of Armoy, it looked eerily abandoned. Houses on the main street boarded up, shops and pubs closed. Finally I passed a small grocery store that was open and came in to get a hot coffee from the machine. Nine Inch Nails played on the radio, contrasting wildly with the quiet shuffle of the two elderly patrons.




The pale, lanky teenager at the cash register (ah that explained the music) took an interest in my "wee folding bike" and confirmed the directions to the Hedges. He then refused payment for the coffee - which I have found happens here often. I left the money on the counter anyway, in case one of the other shoppers was short on change.






It continued to rain, though less violently, as I turned onto Gracehill Road, then finally Bregagh Road. On the corner an old man was sitting inside a bus shelter - a solitary figure in an otherwise desolate landscape. Simultaneously we waved to one another as I cycled past.




Now the road grew narrow and the vegetation wild. I began to climb a tedious hill as rain obscured my vision. I thought that I'd be able to see the famous trees in the distance by now and that this sight would at least encourage my progress, but the top of the hill blocked my view of what lay further. I realised how exhausted I was at this point from all the climbing I had done on this "flat" route, and from the rain, and from the cold. Honestly, I just wanted to get it over at this point and was no longer even excited about the Hedges.




But just then, at long last, I crested the hill. And at that exact moment the sun came out. And the rain turned into hail again. And that is when I saw them.






The Dark Hedges - in the hail, fog, and sunshine simultaneously. Descending under the canopy oftwisted branches was like passing through a tunnel. I then turned around, propped the bike against a tree, took out my camera and spent the next hour taking photos - about 500 of them, capturing the ethereal sight in a variety of weather conditions. "Four seasons in day," as they like to say here.




I've since visited the trees again, and I might write about them in more detail later. But on this occasion it was really a matter of the journey more than the destination. The experience of seeing the long-awaited Hedges as I crested that hill... no photo can capture it.





It was not the weather for tourists, but at some point a car drove past and pulled over on the side of the road. Just as the rain finally stopped, a couple jumped out to take pictures. Seeing me there, they asked whether I could take one of them both. I did, after which they took one of me. Rather appropriately, I look like I've been dragged through the hedge backwards. What a ride this turned out to be.

Here is a squared away customer base!

Hi5s and DPS 112s, Anchorage kids obviouslyknow how to play!Only thing missing here areDynafit TLT 5s.

Happy Hour Queen Returns to Clermont

We've had quite a few happy hours here lately, but we had to have one more because Diane who is "the Happy Hour Queen is back. I forgot my camera so you'll have to go to Donna's blog to see the pictures.



Nathan and I are practicing for a pickleball tournament and I've noticed something. When we play against the guys, they play much harder against me this year than they did last year. I got hit twice today, and both times I was so glad because it reminds me to get my paddle up and that they aren't going easy on me so I need to stay focused and in the game.



Beyond that, we haven't been up to much because it's COLD again so I'm staying inside and doing some baking. I tried two different cookie recipes today, to see which one we like best. I asked Nathan if the first batch was better than my regular cookie recipe and he wisely answered, "It's hard to compare awesome to awesome." I'll try to remember to report the results from the other two guys who will be more honest with me.



In the meantime, here are the NY Chocolate Chip Cookies:

Announcing Hat Recipient!

[original of altered image via Atlanta Street Fashion blog]

Thank you to everyone for taking part in the "Thanking Your Bicycle" give-away.Your notes were so very nice; I found it extremely difficult to choose.



Riddled with indecision, I finally left it up to my bicycles - and, upon voting, theychose... Kyle. Here is an excerpt from Kyle's note to his bicycle Nimrod - which I think is worth a read:

Thank you, Nimrod, you mighty hunter, for never failing me.

When everything else fell apart -- losing my job, losing my wife, all in the same month -- someone moved to Romania and had to let you go. And we found each other. You are three years older than me but did you know we share a birthday? We will have cake in January!

You and I had a long, strange winter, exploring the silent city during seven months of unemployment and the depths of heartbreak. You never asked what was wrong, never pressured me to speak. You were just there. You listened. We watched the sunrise from the hilltop cemetery and I whispered my woes. We explored the abandoned prison farm and I talked through my grief. Your freewheel's whizzzz was the only comment offered. Thank you for listening.

We had those long hours to get to know each other. That is when I learned you liked fluted fenders. That you wanted a rear basket. Remember when I found your voice, when I brought home that brass bell? And when we removed the original, 34-year-old wrap on your handlebars? Now they are a brilliant hunter green. A mighty hunter, just like you, Nimrod. You fit my style perfectly, but I fit yours, too.

Those small things -- too, too little -- were my poor way of thanking you for being my constant companion. We are a badass duo, friend. We toured our first century, just us, into the Georgian countryside, and several after.

We planned and led an urban bike tour and a Labor Day seersucker social; though already noted in the bike community, you became my best accessory and with you, we became something of bike celebrities. Folks flung compliments like laurels as we whizzed by, bold with bow tie and brass bell. Remember when those racers tick-tacked over in their cleats to scope you out, envious? We even ended up on a bike blog. http://atlantastreetfashion.blogspot.com//08/in-old-fourth-ward-new-friend.html

You were there when I met Laura. She said she was smitten with me but you sealed the deal. Thanks, wingman! Her lime green Schwinn looks awfully nice, huh? Huh? (I know you liked how I cozied you two up on the car rack: you're welcome.)

Without your steadfast support, Nimrod, I might still have come through this all. But not like this. Not whole. Back at scratch and my first fully car-free year, I needed you and you gave all you had. I owe you what I am now.

You were always there for me, Nimrod. Thank you.

Kyle, please get in touch with me at filigreevelo{at}yahooto discuss your hat - as I do not have your contact info. (And in the event that I do not hear from Kyle, my bikes did agree on several runners up.)



When I asked my bicycles what made them pick Kyle, some said it was the content of his story, others said it was his engaging narrative style, one said that the phrase "mighty hunter" reminded him ofThe Heart Is a Lonely Hunterby Carson McCullers, and yet another simply liked the name Nimrod. But it really was very close, and quite difficult to decide who the recipient should be. I think that next time, I will come up with something where there can be several recipients. Though the theme of this give-away was meant in good fun, I think that many of us - myself included - are sincerely grateful for the role bicycles play in our lives. Thank you again for taking part, and thank you for reading Lovely Bicycle!

Caddo Lake Revisited

Tuesday, April 12th - - It seems like it has been much longer, but it was just 12 days ago that I was here at Caddo Lake State Park near Marshall, Texas. There seems to be a little more green now, which is just fine with me ;-) and the water lilies are about to burst out into bloom.



It was nearing sunset when I arrived this time, and like my previous visit the light was amazing.