Outerbanks of North Carolina

Last night we arrived at our destination. It was late so we didn't really have a chance to see anything. Ava woke us up at 6 am so we could see everything very well this morning. Since we were up and anxious to see the beach, we hurried out there. Good Morning Beach!

The Skinny on Narrow Brooks Saddles?

I did not think this would happen to me in a million years, but the Brooks B17 saddle that is so blissfully comfortable on my touring bike- is now apparentlytoo widefor me on my fixed gear roadbike. I kept lowering the handlebars on that bike (isn't it funny how our ideas of "what feels comfortable" can change?), until they've become considerably lower than the saddle. As a result, parts of my inner/rear thighs have begun to press into the hard edges of the saddle uncomfortably as I pedal. This never used to happen when the handlebars were up higher, so "saddle too wide" seems like a reasonable diagnosis. Just when I thought that the B17 was my "perfect" default saddle for roadbikes, I guess I am proven wrong.

I am completely lost when it comes to choosing a narrow saddle, and the Brooks classification system is not helpful. Even examining them all side by side (atHarris Cyclery) was more confusing than informative. Left to right, these are: the Swift, the Pro, the Colt, and the Swallow. I imagine the box of kleenex on the left is for clean-up, lest customers drool on the saddles. Or cry about not being able to afford them.



More frustrating still, is the fact that, once you get into the narrower-than-B17 territory,nobody seems to agree about what's comfortable. Some say that they ride the Brooks Pro exclusively and love it. Others say that the Brooks Pro is "unrideable". Reviews of the Swift and the Swallow are equally mixed. From what I read, I am beginning to think that as a lighter cyclist (125lb) I may find it especially difficult to deal with these saddles, as they tend to be harder to break in.



One model I am considering is the new (re-released)Colt. The width is similar to the Pro, but the nose is pointed down, like onthese 80s racing saddles. I have tried a couple of the old vinyl and foam saddles in that style, and found their shape surprisingly comfortable(though not the material they are made of). I am not sure what the actual purpose of the downpointed nose is, but it sure is female-anatomy-friendly, which is why I am considering it. The Brooks Colt has been out for a few months, but I have not found any substantial reviews of it. The hard-as-a-rock surface does give me pause.



WhileBrooks saddles are fantastic when you find the right one, they are just too expensive for me to experiment with. I am open to other brands as well, though in my experience I don't do well with anything other than suspended leather. Maybe some of the imitation-Brooks that people consider "flimsy" might actually work for me, since they break in faster.Any suggestions - keeping my weight in mind - would be much appreciated.

Grosvenor Arch and Cottonwood Canyon Road

As my time on this trip nears its end, I've been reviewing many of the images that I've made throughout the trip and in so doing realized that I left out sharing the spectacular Grosevnor Arch with you! I visited this arch about a week ago, on the same day that I hiked the Willis Creek narrows. Grosvenor Arch is located down the Cottonwood Canyon Road, which goes right through the heart of the Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument. Its a little odd visiting this arch as Cottonwood Canyon Road is a fairly rough road with lots of washboard bumps and rocks, yet when you arrive at Grosvenor Arch you are treated to a nice picnic area with toilet facilities and a paved walkway leading up to the arch.

Since my visit to the arch was in the middle of the afternoon, I was thankful to have some nice clouds in the sky to make the mid-day photos a bit more interesting. After photographing the arch I continued to drive down Cottonwood Canyon Road, admiring the scenery along the way. I snapped a few images along the road, then turned around when I was roughly half-way through the road (about 23 miles). I would have continued all the way through the road, but I wanted to be back at Bryce Canyon that night to shoot the sunset.

As I write this update I am in Wall, South Dakota after a drive through the Pine Ridge Reservation and an afternoon/evening visit to Badlands National Park. I am working my way back home with mixed feelings. After spending a few weeks on the road its nice to be heading home, but at the same time I don't want the trip to end. At least I can take comfort in the knowledge that not long after I return home flowers will be blooming and the trees will be budding, and summer will soon be here! Look for a post about the Badlands to come in another day or two....

(Above and below: Some of the scenery along Cottonwood Canyon Road)

Exploration Day ..

This was a day I was looking forward to since Thursday. Jennifer was sick all week and I was trying not to catch it while saving energy for Monday. The plan was to go climb ice. Steve and I had loosely coordinated on Friday and the initial goal was the North Face of Chair Peak. Temps have been silly cold. (With overnight lows in Seattle in the 20°s.) During the weekend I saw that someone had climbed it on Saturday. We were on. Until it snowed Sunday. Well that wouldn't totally deflate our plans, but being on the dark side of a mountain with the high temp at sea level around freezing sounded really cold to us. That added to the high winds and possible cornices and bombs that would await us at the top of the face. (The wind chill for Monday at Snoqualmie Pass was predicted to be -11°F.) Rather than hike out there and turn around, we decided on Sunday evening to give the South Gully of Guye Peak a try. There was less of a hiking commitment and the route is wind protected.

Heading up on the road

We had a bit of a late start, and arrived in a parking area on the Oberstrasse. The outside temp was 7°. It took a bit of effort to remove our heavy coats and start moving. At least the sun was out although we were in the woods immediately off the road. Soon we got on a forest road and heading in the general direction of the Southwest Rib. We left the road near the end and headed generally east under the rib. Going was not too difficult with bare boots as the snow pack was firm except for the fresh 5" from the previous day. (Steve and I were regretting not going out to ski instead as conditions were nice for that activity.) We finally arrived at what we believed to be the gully and did some checking to confirm this. However, the gully did not have much snow above our location and we started rethinking our plan. We hiked up to the area where there was less snow (which was in the sun.) The going was not as easy as previous with the increased slope angle we eventually donned crampons. We debated a bit, and then made the decision that climbing snowy rock and a possible loose 3rd class gully didn't sound appealing to us on this day. So we turned around.

Our high point in the gully

The hike out was uneventful, but we got a good look at Chair Peak and could see cornices and thanked ourselves for the decision not to head there. We made a plan that once we got to the car we would go take a look for ice at Alpental Falls. We made the short drive and hiked up the Snow Lake Trail to the falls. Most of the ice was there, but looked a bit fragile, or had running water behind it. While there, we heard a few icicles falling. It was midday and they were in the heat of the sun. We assumed they would look better in the morning.

Checking out the ice

We hiked northwest from that location and found a few short solid patches of ice that we would be willing to top rope from trees. (We had only brought three screws for Guye, so we didn't have the capacity to lead.) Steve then searched a gully while I hacked at the ice a bit to see how durable it was. Due to the deep cold, it wasn't as plastic as I would prefer for ice climbing, but it was solid and climbable. We poked around a little more without actually climbing anything and then headed to the parking lot. I took my watch off below the falls (which were no longer in direct sunlight) to gauge the temperature. By the time we reached the parking lot it was a mere 15°. Steve and I got in the car and headed out.

On the way home we checked out some other areas that we knew ice up and investigated their feasibility for later in the week. We will see.

While not the grand goal I had originally planned, it was a fun outing. We now know where to find the gully on Guye Peak and may return when there is better snow cover. For now, I am excited to get out and climb ice while the temps are low and there is no precip in the forecast.

To Know a Mountain

The mountain is impossible to ignore. I see it from my window first thing in the morning and last thing before the light fades - nearly at midnight on a summer's night. I see it when I ride to and from town, and when I ride in loops around the countryside. No matter where I go and what I do, the mountain is always there, an enormous living, breathing thing, looming over the landscape.





At 1,263 feet, Binevenagh (pronounced "be-NEvna") is actually quite small. But it cuts a dashing figure on the Limavady landscape. It stands alone, outlined crisply against the ever-changing sky. Seen from the seashore, it resembles a crumpled old hat (or the snake that ate the elephant drawing from the Little Prince). From other vantage points, a jagged edge protrudes. Steep on all sides, it is topped with a large lumpy plateau, covered with forests and meadows.





Gazing at the mountain everywhere I went, all I could think of was climbing it. I hesitated at first. It felt so special I did not want to rush it. But finally one morning I woke up and knew it was time. The atmosphere was festive.





The road up Binevenagh starts directly from the house. But a friend suggested I take a detour - swinging around the coast, then turning onto another road to give myself a bit of a warmup before the climb. "Even with that frying pan of yours, you'll need it!" He was referring to the 11-36t cassette my bike was decorated with.





The ascent is relatively short and steep: 1,045 feet of climbing over 3.5miles. It is continuous climbing, much of it at a 10%+ grade, the road steepening, letting up, then steepening again. Right off the bat, the pitch was tough. I went at a good rhythm, but after a mile stopped to take a breather at a crossroads. Most of the mountain continued to tower ahead; I had hardly chipped away at it.





But when I turned around, the evidence of the mile I'd already done was in plain sight: A sharp dip, and the hills of Donegal spread out behind a shimmering sliver of water. Still narrow from this vantage point, the Lough Foyle is a saltwater inlet that separates the western part of Northern Ireland from the northwestern tip of the Republic. The border between the two nations is rather picturesque here. Climbing Binevenagh, the view becomes more breathtaking with each push of the pedals. And the sheep become more frequent.





How to describe this climb... The pitch was doable in my low gears. But the continuous steep grade made it tiring. I switched between my 3-4 lowest cogs and stood up occasionally (something I've finally learned to do), and tried not to get overwhelmed. I ignored my legs and focused on the scenery, aiming my eye at the top.As I kept going, the sheep were like loyal spectators. They looked at me with sympathy, understanding, encouragement. I was not miserable on the climb; it was a peaceful and oddly calming experience.






For some time, the sheep were my only company. Until, out of nowhere, a man in blue pulled up next to me. Even as I spotted him in my peripheral vision, I knew he was a Cyclist. Slender and agile, he moved so fluidly, it looked like liquid pouring uphill. Riding next to me, he matched my pace effortlessly as we talked. He lived nearby and loved to train on this mountain. He was an endurance cyclist, and rode in the Race Across America last year. Before we parted ways at the top, he introduced himself: Joe Barr.




I watched him disappear down the other side of the mountain, as beautifully as he climbed. Later I learned he was a retired Irish pro-racer.







The top of Binevenagh... The plateau covers a large area, and the highest point is somewhat uneventful. A painted bridge over a stream, a scraggly meadow with Queen Anne's Lace and buttercups, a forest in the background, and lots of sky with very distant views of water. From here on, there are several options for descending. One starts right away and is fairly steep and twisty, consistently throughout. Another is further down the plateau. It is longer and gentler most of the way, until it ends in a sudden, sharply winding vertical drop to the sea at the very end.






To start with I chose the first descent. The steep, narrow, winding road pushed my comfort zone. I was in control around the bends, but had to work on myself to keep calm. I did breathing exercises to keep from shaking and destabilising the bike. Descending on the left side of the road felt intuitive; my brain had already switched over.





This descent was a heavily shaded one, winding its way through a forest.







But after every bend, a view opened up, each more beautiful than the next. If it is possible to feel both cautious and relaxed at the same time, that is how descending this road felt.






Cars passed me up the road occasionally, the drivers waving, friendly - something I am still getting used to here. Toward the bottom, one driver was trying to communicate something urgently, which I did not understand - until I saw a row of pointy brown ears up ahead. Quickly I stopped, dismounted and clambered up the side of the road to let the herd of cows pass.






The final winding stretch dumped me onto the coastal road unceremoniously.Feeling sad it was over, I repeated the loop, then crawled home, spent and drunk on mountain air.






Several days later, I climbed Binevenagh again to try one of the other descents. The road along the plateau offered wide open views of both the Lough Foyle and the North Atlantic.






I rode through a dreamscape of hot-pink sheep grazing upon neon green grass, as the sun came out over the hills of Donegal.






At the far end of the plateau stood "the boat man," as the locals refer to him. He isManannán mac Lir, a god of the sea - a new statue the local council has erected just in the past week. Facing Magilligan Point (entrance to the Lough Foyle on the Northern Ireland side) - the mythical wood-carved figure spreads his arms over land and water of the bordering nations.






Standing there, I remembered being at Magilligan Point, at the ground level, and looking up at the mountain from there. Some form of symmetry had been achieved.






The descent was long, tame and idyllic, rolling through farmlands. But at the end came the stretch I had been warned about: This section winds tightly, down a steep grade.I was advised to either walk or ride the brakes once I saw the crumbling rocks sign.Over the course of two loops, I tried both methods. Riding slowly with good brakes is actually a bit easier than walking the bike.





After some S-bends, another sharp bend follows before a vertical drop onto the main road across from the water.





The spot is Downhill - defined by the magnificent view of the Mussenden Temple - a round structure at the edge of a cliff, which a nobleman had built for his niece... with whom he may or may not have had an affair with. The niece died before the temple was finished, infusing the story with an extra air of tragic poeticism.






I looked back at the road I had come down. I was not as shaken as I thought I'd be by the descent. But with the rush and the beauty of it over, I felt lost - so much emotion can build up along these stretches, and it has nowhere to go. Maybe that is why the cliffs looked especially beautiful in the evening light. And maybe that is why I put all my remaining energy into the 10 miles home along the flat coastal road. Big ring, small cog, setting sun, burning legs, cold air, sprays of water, and Binevenagh towering over it all. Turning the pedals madly as I raced home, I already longed to be up there again.

Happy 15th Birthday Austin!

One of the things we had to adjust to when first going out "on the road" was the fact that we could not count on people we knew being around. It is a huge transition to never knowing exactly who will be around. For the most part, you just learn to adjust and it's not a big deal in time. Still, things like birthdays can feel kind of lonely.



This year, Austin's birthday turned out to be anything but lonely. Because we are still camping with so many other Families on the Road people, we had lots of people around. Early in the day, they decorated our RV:



How cool is that? On top of all of the friends here, our travel buddies arrived yesterday so he had family here too. We had a big surprise party for him. The Evans kept him contained inside until we were ready for him. All the kids hid with silly string in hand:





Surprise, Austin!





He had a great time!











Happy Birthday, dude! Rock on! You have made the last 15 years so interesting, so here's to many more fun years to you!



Living the life surrounded by love in Florida!