Gunks Routes: Te Dum (5.7)

(Photo: the opening moves on Te Dum)



It was still winter, technically, when I got my first Gunks opportunity of . But spring seemed to be in the air.The temperature had suddenly spiked up into the sixties. The internet hummed with reports of great early-season climbing.



I couldn't wait to get out there.



I was feeling pretty good. I was perhaps in better physical shape than ever before, and I'd been climbing well in the gym.



But it got colder as the the weekend began, and by the time my climbing day, Sunday,dawned, it felt like winter all over again. As I drove up to New Paltz with A and M, I watched as thethermometer on my dashboardreported the dropping temperature outside: 32, 31, 30...



It bottomed out at 28 degrees just before we hit Exit 18.



Whatever, I wasn't worried. The high was projected to be around 48 and I figured with the sun shining on the cliffs it would feel warm enough once we got into it. I suggested to my friends that we head to the Nears, where the classics are piled deep, one after another, at the northern end of the cliff, closest to the road. I was thinking of a couple good warm-ups for us. One was Alphonse, a 5.8 climb that'sreally a 5.6 for all but one move. Another was Te Dum, a 5.7 that I remembered as having only one 5.7 move on it:an exposed but easycrux step around a corner about two-thirds of the way to the top. I was eager to get started and I volunteered for the lead.



As we walked to the start of Te Dum we passed Broken Sling, a notorious 5.8 with a bouldery start and a poorly-protected thin traverse above. Like Pavlov's dog I started salivating at the thought of getting on that one. Then beneath our chosen climb I stared straight up at the crux downward-facing off-width that finishes the first pitch of Inverted Layback (5.9). Boy, I'd like to do that one soon, I thought. But first I have to knock off this easy 5.7.



We racked up and I headed skyward.



The climb starts just left of the back of an open book, at a wide vertical crack system that passes two ledges on the way to a third. At the third ledge, where the vertical crack system widens,you traverse to the right wall of the open book and head up past a few flakes to the crux move around a second corner. Once you make the thin move around the crux corner a few jugs usher you up to a small ledge where a tree used to have slings around it, forming an optional belay station. This tree has lost its largest branch and these days hardly seems suitable for belay duties; in any event the rest of the climb is 5.4 and short. A rising traverse takes you out from under the roof over your head and then it's a couple moves to the top. Best to do the whole thing in one pitch.



As I started the climb, worming up to the first little ledge, I realized Iwas actually feeling very rusty after our long, snowy winter. I wasn't used to real rock anymore, and neither my fingers nor my toes felt secure on the stone. Even though the sun was shining directly on the rock, it still felt cold to the touch, and it may have been irrational but I didn't feel confident that my grip on the holds was solid.



At the second little ledge, I found myself standing to the left of the vertical crack and couldn't figure out how tostep up. I had two pieces right there-- in fact, I'd placed four pieces of pro in about 10 feet-- but I confess I was starting to panic. I couldn't commit to the move. My fingers were feeling numb. I told myself this was just season-opening jitters and to go ahead and step up, but when (after what seemed an eternity)I finally did so I immediately slipped off the foothold and down to the ledge on the right side of the vertical crack, where I should have been standing in the first place. Now that I was standing two feet to the right of where I'd been standing amoment before, the move was obvious-- I'd fallen into the proper position. The rest of the climb went smoothly. The rock even started to warm up and by the time I got to the cruxI cruised through it, as I'd expected I would.



My verdict on Te Dum two years later: despite my jittery beginning, it's still, to my mind, an easy 5.7. The opening bit, up to where you move right, is a simple matter for anyone who isn't climbing (like me) with blinders on. Then a very easy and well-protected traverse (use the crack at the back of the open book for pro) leads to a couple nice moves up to the crux. One deep breath and a committing step will take you around the second corner to jugs and the optional belay. Then it's an exposed, 5.4 romp to the trees. A nice pitch, with more climbing on it than I remembered.



So much for starting the year feeling strong. I'd secretly hoped the Gunks 5.8s would feel ridiculously easy as the year began, but that's just not how it works, is it? You have to pay your dues year after year, make a few mistakes, get yourself a little scared, ask yourself why you're even contemplating this stupid sport. And then it all becomes fun again.



The rest of my day went much better. After myshaky performance on Te Dum I handed the lead over to A for Disneyland (5.6) and Alphonse (5.8), and these climbs did a lot to shake the slipperyfeeling off my fingers and toes. Then I took the lead for the first pitch of Yellow Ridge (5.7), which I'd never been on before, and felt absolutely fine about it. And then we hit Farewell to Arms (5.8), which A led and which I thought packed a ton of climbing intothe shortfirst pitch. This was not an easy 5.8, but I'll write more about that and our other climbs of the day in another post.



We ended our day with a rope up on To Be Or Not To Be (5.12), which none of the three of us could even begin to conquer. As we flailed away at it I couldn't take my eyes off of Birdland, just to the right, another 5.8 that has somehow eluded me these past couple years. I prefer roof climbs to face climbs, and Birdland is definitely in the face climb category, at least for its first pitch. But for some reason it just calls to me, and I'm going to jump on that sucker soon. Something about it just looks so appealing, and knocking it off my list early this year just seems like something I have to do. Assuming my jitters really are shaken off.

Dill Pickle Bags: a Local Delicacy

There once was a girl from West Medford







whocould trackstand for hours without effort.







And then in one go,







some bags she would sew,



eating pickles whilst cycling backward...



Dill Pickle bags have a cult status around these parts. "Brevet tested, randonneur approved," the bags are made by fabled long distance cyclistEmily O'Brien. Over the years I'd hear snippets of stories about her, told in hushed tones ("Don't you know she did Paris-Brest-Paris on an old fixed gear bike, subsisting on nothing but pickles and chocolate milk?").











Then I met and befriended Emily: the approachable, mischievous creature who I now have the fortune to ride with when she is not off doing things like this. And while everything they say about her is true (well, mostly - her fixed gear bike Archie weighs a mere 30lb, not 60lb as some would tell it!), the popular portrait leaves many things out. For instance, her music career. Her ties to Europe. Her tomato garden, yarn spinning and knitting. Her gloriously warped sense of humor. And, of course, her talent for bicycle-themed limericks. I hope she enjoys the one I composed in her honour (it was tough to find words that rhymed with Medford, but lines ending with Emily or O'Brien proved tougher still, so Medford it was!).





I remember fondly my first visit to Maison du Dill Pickle. The foyer is filled floor to ceiling with all kinds of bikes. New bikes, old bikes, frankenbikes, parts of bikes. There are also many wonderous doohickies, and, of course Dill Pickle bags of various vintages, colour schemes, and states of use.






The workshop is in the attic. Two work stations with sewing machines. A table for measuring and cutting. Boxes with cloth and supplies. Rolls of fabric and ribbon everywhere. Patterns and mysterious notes taped to the walls. Iced coffee and popsicles on a hot summer day.





Pickle jars are everywhere. It appears they function as paper weights.






As I photograph, Emilystarts to make a bag from scratch to show me her process, chatting easily all the while. She draws then cuts out a pattern.Soon she is at the sewing machine.






As I watch her fingers dance just millimeters from the needle, I remember the first - or maybe second - time we met up for a ride. Emily was drinking a smoothie as she serenely navigated her way through a busy intersection. I watched this with horror/awe from a bench across the road. I'd arrived early and was sitting there, eating, with all my things strewn across the bench. Upon reaching me Emily hopped onto the sidewalk and remained on her bike - trackstanding, while chatting, drinking her smoothie and gesticulating, both hands off the handlebars - for what must have been at least 5 minutes while I finished eating, refilled my waterbottle, put my gloves and glasses back on and got ready to go. The way she works reminds me of this: the easy multitasking; the amazing coordination. She works quickly and calmly, and she makes it look easy and natural.






For hours, we talk about design. Function vs form. Desire vs experience. Classic vs modern. We discover there are projects we would like to collaborate on. Camera bags! Handlebar bags! Quick-release briefcases! So many ideas.





To start with, I take home a standardsmall saddlebag to demo and provide feedback. Rummaging through a box of ready-made bags, we find a black and tan one that seems to suit my bike, and I ride away with it - a list already forming in my head of all the changes I'd like to make if I were to get a custom one for myself. Nix the mesh pockets, I'm thinking. Fewer drawcords and loops.








But after riding with the bag for a few weeks, I no longer want to change anything except the colour. The beauty of the small saddlebag, I realise, is that it maximises carrying capacity while minimising the profile and weight of the bag itself. In that sense, it is such a successful design, such a perfect balance of features (and lack thereof) that I cannot think of a single improvement without making the bag worse in some other sense.








Made of lightweight, durable cordura, the bag cinches and expands while retaining a narrow, under-the-saddle profile. In its most compact form, it the size of a large saddle wedge. In its expanded form, it offers as much storage capacity as many full-sized saddlebags - without the bulk or the width.






The main compartment is lined with a waterproof fabric. As someone who has ridden hundreds of miles in the rain(at a time!), Emily considers this feature important. Inside is an optional zippered pocket, with another one on the inside of the top flap.






The drawcord allows the bag to expand or cinch as necessary.





Optional reflective loops are designed to carry a mini-pump across the top of the bag. The mesh pockets on the sides and top are optional as well, but the more I used the bag, the more I discovered just how much I liked using them; it was like having extra jersey pockets. Everything that is not water-sensitive can be stored in them, and they are easy to reach into while cycling. On long rides, I found it extremely convenient to stuff the mesh pockets with food: Not only was it easy to access, but the size of my bag diminished over the course of the ride, since the mesh is collapsible and almost weightless.






The bag's closure system is simple, quick, light, and replaceable in case of eventual wear or breakage.






The strap is expandable, with the excess length folded over and held in place by a clip. It took me a bit to learn how to clip back the strap properly, and on my first ride it fell out and drove me nuts rubbing against the rear tire before I realised what it was (what is that sound?). But I did get it eventually.






The attachment system uses cam buckles, making attaching and removing the bag, as well as adjusting its position, very convenient. This is a useful feature for those who take their bag on and off, or switch it from one bike to another frequently, but don't want a permanently installed quick-release system. The bag can be attached either to saddle loops, or to saddle rails - making it compatible with a variety of saddles, including racing saddles.






At the end of my testing period, I had to admit that while the bag was somewhat more contemporary-looking than what I am normally partial to, its design and functionality suited my needs for a compact and easy to remove roadbike bag pretty much perfectly. As it happened, the bag was also just big enough to swallow my DSLR camera. I had been looking for a minimalist single camera carry system for a while, and this seemed like a good candidate. The only problem was padding. I have a 3-compartment camera insert from Zimbale that fits into wide saddlebags the size of the Carradice Barley and the Zimbale 7L bag. So I suggested Emily make a single-camera insert to fit the Dill Pickle Small Saddlebag. As Emily regularly makes padded inserts for musical instruments, this proved to be an easy task.






So now I have my own Dill Pickle bag, which is also the Small Camera Bag prototype. In construction it is more or less identical to the standard Small Saddlebag. For the exterior fabric, I chose olive-green cordura with reflective trim.







Some have pointed out to me that the bag would look more "classic" without the mesh pockets. That may be so, but the mesh pockets are fabulously useful and I couldn't live without them.







Besides, since my bike itself is pretty modern I think the aesthetic is appropriate.The proportions work pretty well, too.






For the waterproof interior fabric and the insert I chose gray, which looks almost sky blue next to the olive cordura.






The removable padded camera insert is made out of 3/8" closed cell foam. The flap tucks in for extra security. The zippered compartments inside the lid and bottom of the bag remain free for basic tools. Alternatively, tools can be kept in the mesh pockets if they do not require waterproofing (or wrapped in a plastic bag if they do).






The insert is shaped to the inside of the bag and will accommodate a range of "prosumer" grade DSLR cameras with small prime lenses. For example, my Nikon D90 with a 35 or 50mm lens fits with room to spare. Basically, this bag accommodates a scenario that I find myself in frequently: I am going on a fast ride and I want my bike to be unencumbered. But I also want to bring a "real" camera and get some nice shots. This setup will allow me to do just that, with minimal hassle. It won't fit an entire photographer's kit with multiple lenses, and it won't fit a huge zoom lens. But I can choose a small prime lens and I'll be able to get some quality shots without attaching more bag than I need to the bike.






One idea we toyed with when discussing the insert prototype was making an extra compartment for batteries, memory cards and the like. In theory the empty space around the lens leaves room for this. But ultimately we decided against it, because we wanted the standard insert to fit as many differently shaped cameras as possible. That said, custom inserts tailored to specific camera and lens combinations can be made as well - as can slightly larger, or differently shaped camera bags. But the beauty of this particular bag, is that it's the standard, compact small Dill Pickle bag made more versatile still with the addition of a removable insert. As I see it, the prototype insert is ready to go as a standard-production accessory.






Dill Pickle bags can come in many shapes, sizes and colours, and Emily is always game for custom orders.Of course as with everything, these bags are not for everyone. If you prefer leather, tweed and brass, there are other manufacturers who are more appropriate. What Dill Pickle bagsare known for are their lightweight materials, function-first designs, and aesthetics that are highly customisable within those parameters. There are lots of cordura colours to choose from, as well as trim, ribbon, lining, and closure mechanisms.






The retail prices - starting at $170 for a small saddlebag - are what they have to be, considering the bags are handmade locally. The more affordable mud flaps are a mere $22 a pair. I would try some, but I almost never have fenders on my roadbikes (I know, I know).






What I will be trying soon is a new handlebar bag prototype and a couple of other interesting products. Emily lives in the next town over and our similar work schedules allow us to ride, talk and brainstorm together, which can yield interesting results when both parties are bike-obsessed. Who knows what contraptions lie ahead. For those interested, here are some shots of the Dill Pickle workshop, and more shots of the small saddlebags here.

Far Out in the Nears: The Main Line (5.8), Mac-Reppy (5.8 A0), Up In Arms (5.9) & More!

(Photo: Gail showing off a little Moxie (5.9), approaching the good moves before the crux.)




This past Saturday was a fine day in the Gunks. A little warm (high 80's), but sunny. Gail and I expected the place to be a madhouse. So we decided to avoid the crowds by heading to the far side of the Near Trapps. Back in April, Gail and I had great fun in the Easter Time Too area, but we barely scratched the surface. We knew there were a ton of good climbs out there neither of us had tried before.




I hadn't been to the Gunks in a month. Although I'd had the great fortune to climb for four days in a row at the end of May/beginning of June in Squamish, by Saturday that trip seemed like ancient history. I was afraid I'd feel rusty in the Gunks. As we trooped out to the end of the Nears I suggested we start with a route that was somewhat familiar to me: The Main Line (5.8).




Gail has been leading a lot lately and I thought the second pitch of The Main Line would be good for her. She loves roofs and the Main Line roof crux, while burly, is short. I remembered the pro as rock solid. When I led this pitch two years ago I thought the pro was great.




On that day, back in , I was climbing with Vass. I'd hoped to do the whole route but the first pitch of The Main Line was wet. We did the 5.8 first pitch of Ground Control, just to the right, instead. This pitch meets pitch one of The Main Line at its end, finishing at the same set of bolts. I didn't care for the first pitch of Ground Control; I found it awkward and not that much fun. But I loved the second pitch of The Main Line. And then our day came to an abrupt halt. After rapping back to the bolts, I started the second pitch of Ground Control (which is 5.9), but took a lead fall off of some wet holds and sprained a finger, ending our day early.




So on this past Saturday I thought Gail and I could knock off both pitches of The Main Line. I'd lead pitch one, and then Gail could tackle pitch two. And then maybe I'd get back on the second pitch of Ground Control and take care of that one as well.




When we got to The Main Line its corner it was dry so we did it.




I liked pitch one. It is rated 5.7 and I think that is fair. It has several nice, tricky moves on it. It ascends a left-facing corner. When the corner ends at a roof you step right to a slab, then move up to another left-facing corner, which leads you to the belay ledge with a bolted anchor. The larger, second corner is the crux of the pitch but it isn't a corner climb. The crux is getting to the good holds to the left of the corner.




I found the pro to be a little thin on pitch one. It wasn't a crisis, but at the cruxy moments I was often a bit above the gear. I couldn't get a piece right where I wanted it. If 5.7 is your leading limit this pitch might be a bit scary for you.




As we looked up at pitch two Gail wasn't really feeling like leading it. The roof is very intimidating. I'd been there before and thought I knew what to expect so I took the lead again. And the climbing went fine. This is an amazing pitch, with a steep, pumpy stance right beneath the huge overhang, and then one reachy 5.8 move to a jug and easier but still steep climbing up and right to the finish.




Although the climbing was no problem, the pro at the crux gave me fits. I remembered this great placement for a yellow Number 2 Camalot. Two years ago I got this odd but bomber placement right in the middle of the irregular pod above the lip of the roof. But not this time. I couldn't make it work. I tried over and over again. It drove me crazy, and I started to pump out. Eventually my leg started shaking like mad as I tried to force the yellow cam to fit. But it wouldn't go and Gail suggested I step down to rest.




I needed something there. I was confident in the move but the pro below the roof is several feet down and the fall down to the slab would be ugly if you blew it with only that lower piece for protection.




Finally I gave up on the yellow Camalot and got an Alien in one of the cracks on the side of the pod. I thought the piece was okay. It was going to have to do. I did the moves and finished the pitch, which was just as awesome as I remembered. But then when it was her turn Gail struggled with the crux move and when I pulled up on the rope, she was yanked sideways because she'd removed the cam from the pod and my next piece was up and to the right. She couldn't get the angle on the jug, ended up hanging and then couldn't get back on the rock. I lowered her to the belay and had to rap to her. She never got to do the pitch! I felt terrible. Next time I'll place another piece directly above the crux move.




When I rapped down to Gail the annoyances continued. I managed to feed the rope into a notch, getting it stuck. I had to traverse to the right from the bolts until I could yank it free.




It was turning into one of those days.




Back at the bolts, I took a look up at the second pitch of Ground Control. I wanted to do it, but I was already hot, sweaty, and dehydrated. I felt kind of worked over after what was supposed to be our warm-up climb! It seemed like we should go down, have a drink, and find something else.




We ended up doing a lot of fun climbing during the rest of our day, but after our little fiasco on The Main Line I never did feel like I was climbing my best.




We decided next to hit Mac-Reppy (5.11c), which is just left of The Main Line. I was not expecting to get the onsight. 5.11c is just a bit above my pay grade, so to speak. But the crux is one super-hard move at a huge roof, and the rest of the climb has a reputation for being a great 5.8, with a good upper crux involving stemming a corner to get around another huge roof.




I ended up aiding the 5.11 crux. There is a bunch of stiff, faded slings hanging at the crux roof and I imagine many folks bail from there when they get shut down. This station could use some new slings; I would not have felt comfortable using the stuff that is there, as it is pretty junky. But there's no need to bail, people! You can aid the hard bit and the rest of the climb is really nice.




I made a few token efforts at the move. I placed a bomber big nut in the side-pull above the roof and tried to figure out how on earth I would get my feet up into the corner. There is a jug wayyyyyy up there if you can figure out how to stand up and reach it. In retrospect I wish I had made a serious go of it and risked at least one fall. But in the moment I didn't want to waste any more of our day and so instead after a few exploratory attempts at the move I decided it wasn't happening. I pulled on the draw attached to my nut, placed another higher nut, extended a sling on it, and stepped into the sling while I pulled on the higher piece. This got me over the lip of the roof. I could then reach the jug and resume free climbing. I have no experience in this kind of French-free climbing and I found it simple enough. If I can do it then so, dear reader, can you.




The rest of the climb is very worthwhile. There are some really nice 5.8-ish face moves low, just off the ground, and then the upper 5.8 crux is great. Be aware that you have to fully commit to stemming way out at the upper crux roof and getting the first holds above the overhang before you can place gear. Once you are fully in it, though, the pro is great for the few 5.8 moves to the top. It is very exciting. If you are considering attempting the lower 5.11 crux then you shouldn't be too freaked out by the pro situation above.




After Mac-Reppy, we walked further down the cliff, considering and rejecting several candidates until we got to the very end of the Nears. There we found Up In Arms (5.9), a striking diagonal crack climb up an overhanging wall. The crack is jagged, and it widens from fingers to hands as you go up. And this being the Gunks, there are also horizontals to grab along the way. There is pro everywhere.









(Photo: Striking a pose on Up In Arms (5.9).)




This is a quality climb, really strenuous for 5.9 and very unusual for the Gunks. I admit I struggled in this steep section. I took a few hangs. I didn't jam much; mostly I threw in jams when I wanted to place gear. All I could think of was how thirsty and tired I felt, after just a few pitches. I realized that it was time to admit that the summer was really upon us. I might need to dial it back a bit on these hot days.




The diagonal crack system takes you left to a chimney, which is more of a gully, really. It is easy climbing up the gully and then the pitch gets weird again near the top of the gully as you hand traverse right using a little bit of stemming until finally you commit to the overhanging wall again for a move or two around a corner to the main face and the belay tree.




We decided to do pitch two, another very unusual, interesting pitch. This one is reputed to be 5.8. First you step across the gully to an arete below a roof. You have to figure out a way to move up and around the arete onto the face beneath the roof, and then pull over the roof to the right of a crack that runs straight out the underside. I enjoyed all of the climbing on this pitch, but it doesn't appear to get done very often. I didn't see any chalk and the holds above the roof were a little dirty. I felt supremely sandbagged at the roof. I made it over and I know I was hot and tired, but still, I believe I have enough experience to judge when a roof in the Gunks should be 5.8 and this is not such a roof! I thought it was hard 5.9, with big moves to so-so holds. (Gail employed a heel hook with a mantel, not exactly your average 5.8 maneuver.) The pro is good, though. The roof is a fitting capper to a very intriguing route. Up In Arms packs a ton of interesting challenges into two short pitches.




There is a belay tree with slings at the very top of Up In Arms but please don't use it. The slings are all old and crusty and the tree itself looks none too healthy. If I'd had a knife with me I would have cut the crappy tat off of that tree. There are other trees behind for the belay and you can walk off down Smede's Cove. The trail down a rocky drainage is easy to find and it only takes a few minutes.









(Photo: Negotiating the lower bits of Moxie (5.9).)




Once we returned to our packs we walked back the other way and decided to try Moxie (5.9). This is a short pitch but a good one. The climb follows a weakness up and right to a blank-looking corner. The crux is finding a way to move up into the corner and then around onto the face and the rap tree. I enjoyed the 5.7/5.8-ish climbing up to the crux corner and then felt stuck for a minute at the crux. It is a bit of a puzzler, as it seems there are no holds! Anyway there is good pro right there for you at your hip while you sort it all out. I don't want to reveal the solution; I'll just say that, as is typical in the Gunks, the answer to the corner isn't inside but outside. I was relieved to onsight this 5.9, after my struggles on Up In Arms.




With order thus restored to the universe, we made an attempt at another 5.9, our final route of the day: Cherokee, a single-pitch 5.9 that is afforded two stars by Dick Williams in his latest guidebook.









(Photo: Gail at the crux of Cherokee (5.9).)




Dick describes the crux, which goes up a shallow open book about 20 feet up, as being harder for shorter people. I disregarded this warning. He says that all the time, and whenever I hear someone say a climb is height-dependent I dismiss it as weak excuse-making. Real men use technique, they don't whine about reachy moves.




So I had no worries, until I went right up Cherokee and got completely shut down at the crux. It was a just reward for my hubris, but I really don't think height is the issue. It seemed to me the route requires you to use terrible footholds and a tiny two-finger undercling hold in order to reach up to the jug. I got a good brassie nut in the key hold. It did not block the hold. But the hold sucks; it is one pad deep! I kept trying to step up but then kept stepping down. I never took a fall but I just couldn't see this move working out. It felt like I was just going to slip right off. I think a tall person would have to make the same move.




Eventually I said screw it, grabbed the draw on the brassie and stepped up to the good hold. It was my second French-free lead of the day. I guess I really should have gone for it at least once and made the move or taken the fall. I knew my pro was good. Anyway, after I aided the crux the rest of the pitch was really quite nice, with lots of steep 5.8 moves up orange rock. There is some loose rock right after the crux, and a wedged block near the top that gave me the willies. And I thought it was kind of run out through the middle of the pitch. Gail, on top rope, was just as mystified by the crux move. She aided it too after deciding this was the sort of move that could make you rip a pulley or tendon.




I'd like to say that I'll go back to Cherokee on a cooler day when it feels less greasy. But I'm not sure I ever really want to go back and do that crux move. It does seem like an injury waiting to happen. Apart from that move it is a very good pitch, steep and consistent. It just keeps coming at you.




We still had hours of daylight to go but after Cherokee we were both whipped. We decided to call it a day. Another party walked up to Cherokee as we were packing up and as we left the leader was experiencing the exact same WTF mystery as we did at the crux, so I walked away feeling like at least I hadn't lost my mind.




I felt a little let down by my performance on the day. I've felt so good on every 5.9 I've tried in the Gunks for what seems like an eternity; I was surprised at how challenging I found the ones I tried on Saturday. But I came down with a mean head cold in the last couple of days so maybe I have an excuse. Or maybe I just need to stop sucking! Tomorrow is another day.

Short Trip Back to Peace River

I am having so much fun in The Villages, that I think the only thing that could get me to leave would be the horses at the horse sanctuary that I volunteer at. The owner took a much needed vacation, so I agreed to come down and help our group of core volunteers cover while she was gone. I was happy to be greeted by some of my favorite horses as soon as I stepped out of my car.





I was also happy to see all of the horses looking healthy and happy. Even Joe, who is still recovering and underweight was much better than a month ago. Dixie, the newest mini, was walking around well.



Chevy, who makes my heart pitter patter like no other male beyond Nathan, was an handsome as ever. His gorgeous side kick was as feisty as ever.



There is a beautiful storage barn for the hay.



In fact, the only thing that wasn't wonderful while I was there was this:







We had an abundance of rain last summer, but we have much more flooding from it this year. I think the horses are as sick of it as we are.





I did get lots of exercise the four days I was there. I normally walk a lot while there. In fact, I wore my pedometer one day and this is how many steps I logged during that day:



Now factor in many of those steps being in the mud, and you can imagine how tired my legs are right now! I have blisters all over my feet and legs. My shoulders and arms ache. Luckily the horses make every minute of the hard work worth it all and then some! I love spending time out there, and I love each and every horse.



Living the life in wet and muggy Florida!

Upright Mammals

Upon returning to the city and getting on my Gazelle again, I was surprised by how different the cycling experience felt from being on my Rivendell.



Normally, I ride both bicycles regularly, so the switch back and forth does not feel remarkable. But after having cycled solely on a roadbike for three weeks, I almost felt as if I had to forcefully uncurl my spine as I transformed from a quadruped to a biped.



While we were away, the Co-Habitant teased that I would get accustomed to using a roadbike for transportation and would probably just keep doing it when we got home - after all, it's faster. But it soon became clear that when it comes to upright bicycles, absence made the heart grow fonder. (Now, if I can just stop trying to use the non-existent bar-end shifters on my poor Dutch bike!)



I think that as upright mammals, we are accustomed to seeing the world from the vantage point of bipedalism and we feel the most relaxed when adopting that posture.It is only natural that people prefer to remain upright when moving through their environment - whether on foot, or on bike, or on public transport. While upright bicycles may not be appropriate for sport or long distance travel, their importance in the realm of "normal cycling" cannot be overstated. Most people considering a bicycle for transportation do not see themselves as "cyclists". They want to be their usual selves, except on a bike. I think the ability to remain an upright mammal is crucial to retaining one's inherent sense of self while cycling for transportation.

Beach Scenes

A few more images from a wonderful day at the beach! Anastasia Island, St. Augustine, Florida. November 30, ...

And, if it is any consolation to those of you "up North", the high temperature for the past three days has been about 60 degrees...