Let me know if I get in your way

I don't think cats understand reading.

Saguaro National Park

After leaving Chiricahua National Monument it was a short drive to Saguaro National Park near Tucson. There are actually two “sections” to this park, East and West, and I stopped for a few hours in the East side park. There is no campground at Saguaro and I was concerned about finding a place to stay for the night. There are trails to hike but I figured I was going to get plenty of desert hiking done at Joshua Tree and Death Valley, so for me, this was a “drive-through” park, something I said I wasn't going to do...

I stopped at the Visitor Center to watch the park video and get their map and then took the driving tour on the loop road. At one stop I noticed a rather large Saguaro a short distance from the road. So with a bottle of water and the camera in hand, I walked off into the desert... perhaps 100 yards!

Here he is. Doesn't look so tall in this picture, but he towers over everything beneath him.

Me and “my” Saguaro.

Now you see how tall he is? I'm 5' 6” so just guessing he is 25-30 feet tall? This was the biggest Saguaro I saw in the short time that I was in the park. Nothing else even came close to his height or his girth. Amazing. As a side note, the camera was propped up against a rock on the ground. It took four tries to get this shot. I was glad that no one else stopped in the area while I was doing this – I sure felt silly running from the camera to the Saguaro - but I am thankful for self-timers on cameras!

I think he had eight “arms” coming out from his main trunk. Huge.

One of his prickly neighbors.

And another.

Photographs taken on March 15, ...

Zygodactyl Coccyzus & the cut direct

Yellow-billed Cuckoo (Coccyzus americanus).



Giving me...



The cut direct.

----------

Cuckoos are zygodactyl, like woodpeckers. Click that link for further bird-foot edification.

Friday Ark.

Durability of Unusual Finishes: Chrome Plating and Clear Powdercoat

This winter I've been riding some bikes with unusual finishes. My main ride is a clear powdercoated Brompton. There are also two chrome-plated bikes in my possession at the moment: a vintage Raleigh Tourist and a modern Bella Ciao. The idea of riding these bikes on salted winter roads has been met with some concern, and I've been asked to comment on how they are holding up.




To start with, I just want to say that chrome plating and clear powder coat are entirely different finishes, and I am by no means placing them in the same category. But the one thing they have in common is that they are unusual, which invites curiosity about their durability compared to paint.Unfortunately, I cannot address that question meaningfully. I didn't have the heart to experiment with the beautiful finishes, so I've been cleaning the bikes after every salty ride this winter. But in truth I am not sure how much this extra care is warranted.




When it comes to the chrome plated bikes, I am actually surprised by the concern for their durability. Chrome plating might be pretty, but its real purpose - as I understand it - is to make the frame more resistant to corrosion. Therefore, a chrome plated frame should require less, not more maintenance than a painted or powdercoated frame. Issues of cost aside, chrome plating should make for an excellent and entirely appropriate winter bike finish. For what it's worth, my chrome Raleigh Tourist is a 33-year-old bike that was well-ridden by its previous owner. The chromed frame shows less wear than a typical painted frame from that era, though a similar degree of component wear.




Clear powdercoat is a different story. Generally speaking, powdercoat is considered to be a more durable finish than liquid paint, which makes it a preferred choice for winter bikes. But clear powdercoat is tricky and may not be reliably rust-proof. Owners of clear-coated bikes have reported problems with corrosion. Rivendell used to offer clear-coated frames, but no longer does. Brompton at some point reformulated their raw lacquer finish to address corrosion issues. Today there are owners of clear-coated Bromptons who ride them in winter, and dealers seem to feel this is perfectly fine to do. I do not see any signs of rust on mine so far, although again - I've been cleaning it.I would notintentionally choose a clear powdercoat finish for a winter bike.




All things considered, I feel that (pigmented) powdercoat and liquid paint are more practical choices for a bike finish. Chrome plating is expensive and difficult to do properly. Clear powdercoat is reputed to be less durable.




Then again, there are bikes that do perfectly well with no finish at all. As an experiment, Henry Cutler of WorkCycles left his personal Fr8frame unpainted. For three years the bike was stored outdoors in Amsterdam's rainy saltwater climate. Over time the frame has developed a patina of surface rust, but it remains structurally fine. Go figure!

A Tandem Experience

this and further images: courtesy ofPamela Blalock

In conclusion to a rather unusual, entertaining and exhausting weekend, yesterday afternoon I rode on the back of a tandem - with endurance cyclist and racer John Bayley, or, as he is known in his native tongue, Fear Rothar (I'll let you figure that one out).



This was a moment I'd dreamt of for some time! Four years ago my husband and I rented an upright tandem on Cape Cod and rode it back and forth along the bike path. At the time, it had only beenmonths since I'd started riding a bike of any kind, and neither of us had tried a tandem before. But despite initial fumblings, it was great fun. The more time passed, the more fondly I remembered it and the more I wanted to try it again - especially once I got into road cycling. With a fast and competent captain, I reasoned, I could experience a ride beyond the limit of my own meager handling skills and speed.So when John offered me to hop on the back of the tandem, I didn't need to be asked twice.





Overall, the process was far more intuitive and natural than I'd anticipated. For those unfamiliar with tandems, the person in front is called the captain, and the person in the rear the stoker. The captain steers, while the stoker goes with the flow and contributes pedaling power. The stoker's pedaling strokes are "fixed" to the captain's, which means that the captain controls the cadence, the gear changes, as well as when to pedal vs when to coast. Starting out, John mounted the bike by swinging his leg over the front and stood over the top tube holding the bike upright. I then swung my leg over the rear, and clipped my right foot in, bringing the pedals to where he wanted them to be. Then John clipped his right foot in. Then he pushed off and we both clipped in the left foot simultaneously. All of this happened fairly quickly and required minimal verbal communication. Subsequent stops and starts were even easier, because John prefers the stoker to remain on the bike with both feet clipped in. This made things pretty simple for me: At stops all I had to do was essentially act as luggage.



An important part of what made all of this work, I think, is that I had full confidence in the captain's ability to keep the bike upright. John is an extremely skilled cyclist who has been captaining tandems for 20 years. I also know him to be a responsible and considerate person. Secure in this, there was trust on my end from the get-go. We clipped in and off we went, with no tentativeness or false starts.





Now, all of this was happening in mountainous northern Vermont, where a group of us was staying over the weekend. There were no flat stretches where we were situated, only long ups and downs with steep grades and lots of dirt. We started off going downhill along a sweeping dirt road, before turning left onto the main road, which led us up a winding climb for a few miles. Once at the top, John did a nimble u-turn and we bombed down the same winding hill.



The experience of being on the back of the bike was wonderful. I was just in heaven for the entire ride. I enjoyed feeling the bike steered by another rider and accommodating to it. I imagine this is a "love it" or "hate it" sort of thing, as it does require the stoker to give up control and to trust the captain's handling. In my case, this was not a problem. Just as I'd hoped, I was able to experience things that I could not have done on my own: more extreme leans, faster speed, expert maneuverability. It was all tremendously exciting. I was only scared once, and that was when we first started descending. It was faster than my concept of "bike speed" had previously entailed and I felt lightheaded. But once I got used to it (and there was plenty of time for that, as it was a long hill!) I began to enjoy it.





Though not as thrilling as downhill, going uphill on the tandem was pretty nice. John is extremely strong and was spinning the cranks in a higher gear than I could have managed on my own. I contributed as much as I could, amazed at the sensation of spinning instead of grinding, at that grade, in that gear.



As the stoker, there is always the question of how much you're contributing as opposed to taking it easy and soft-pedaling while the captain puts in the real effort. My impression is that I was contributing when I felt myself pushing against a distinct resistance in the cranks. This is a different feeling from the resistance I feel when riding a single bike, but nonetheless there is feedback.



I found the switch from coasting to pedaling and vice-versa to be surprisingly intuitive and did not feel a need for the captain to warn me when switching; my feet would just immediately adapt. Same with switching gears. Surprisingly, I was somehow almost able to anticipate when John was about to coast, or start pedaling again, or switch gears. And the entire time, his cadence felt suspiciously perfect. I am not sure whether he was regulating his cadence to accommodate what he thought I'd be comfortable with, or whether this was his natural rhythm - but we were spinning at a decent rate the entire time, which felt great.






I know fairly little about the world of tandems, but one thing I've noticed is the difference in space allocated to the stoker. In some pictures of tandemists you see the stoker's face practically digging into the captain's back, whereas in others you see them set far apart. John and Pamela's tandem is somewhere in between. Had I wanted to, I could have leaned down to reach John's lower back with my chin when in the drops. But it wasn't so tight as to feel claustrophobic or uncomfortable. I have seen tandems where the stoker is basically "spooning" the captain.




Since this is the only road tandem I've been on, it would not make sense to attempt a review of any kind, but the ride quality felt pretty good on the 650Bx42mm tires, and in particular I noticed that I felt less "bouncing" than I do on single bikes. While I had no control over braking power, the discs worked very well in John's hands.




We did not do anything extreme on this ride, figuring a relatively tame spin over hilly roads was enough for my first stoker experience. But John did wow me with his tandem track-standing skills at stops, as well as with his ability to maneuver the long bike through tight spaces. The way I remember it, we actually started on the front porch, at which point John steered the bike down the steps, onto the lawn, in between some parked cars, around the picnic table and over the stone fence - as I hung on for dear life and his lovely spouse snapped pictures. "You can have him for free this once," she said, "but next time I'm charging a rental fee." Fair enough!



Based on others' feedback, it is clear that stoking a tandem is not for everyone. Some riders cannot stand the loss of control (I don't mind, assuming I trust the person in front). Others complain about the limited view (I found that turning my face a bit solved that problem). Finally, there are riders who just cannot get in sync enough to make a tandem ride work. I found riding with John enormously fun and would love to ride again with such a fantastic captain.



Interested in tandem advice from experienced couples? Here is a detailed guide from the Blayleys and a "411" from Chasing Mailboxes.

'Tis Nevermore :: The Nevada Shoe Tree is Gone

In the high desert of Nevada, a large Cottonwood Tree stood for decades alongside a stretch of U.S. 50 near Middlegate, between Fallon and Ely. Known as The Loneliest Highway in America, it is now even more lonely because a local icon has been destroyed.





The Shoe Tree was introduced to you, my readers, in Redefining Shoe Tree. About a week ago I was contacted by a gentleman who wrote a song about the tree being cut down. He wanted to use the photographs from my blog post in a video tribute to the tree. I was truly saddened to hear of the demise of the Shoe Tree.



A Google Search turned up numerous articles about the old tree telling what is known of the incident and a little history of the tree.



A month ago, vandals pulled out their chain saw and cut the Shoe Tree down. No one except the culprits saw the deed being done. As it so happens, the Shoe Tree was on property owned by the Bureau of Land Management so if the culprits are ever found, they will face federal charges. The incident is still under investigation.





There is no understanding acts of vandalism. Nothing will bring the old tree back, but I hope that the culprits are caught and get the punishment they deserve!



The music video tribute by Chris “CW” Bayer has been posted on You Tube: Someone Cut the Shoe Tree Down.



Disclaimer: I have no business or other relationship to or with Chris Bayer. I received no remuneration from him for his use of my photographs. The video is simply a tribute to an icon and will not be for sale.

Angels Landing :: The Prelude

Hidden amongst the shadows of the morning light, the trail winds its way along the Zion Canyon Valley, up that “short” wall on the left, through Refrigerator Canyon, up to the West Rim and on towards Angels Landing (the top of that center peak).

Actually, even in the full light of day, the trail is discernible from ground level only in a few places (like that diagonal “line” towards the top of the short wall).

Heartbreak hill. That's what I called this steep section nearly a mile into the trail. It's that “diagonal line” shown in the previous photo. And it seems like it will never end. And what's around the corner? Why, yet another steep section!

As you can see, the trail is paved though it isn't exactly like a walk in the park. In some sections the pavement is much rougher than in others. It is uphill all the way, some portions are quite steep with sharp drop-offs. In most places the trail is at least three feet wide so there is plenty of room for faster hikers to easily pass the slower ones (like me).

Taken on the way back down, this shows the switchbacks that had to be navigated before getting to the steep section shown in the previous photo.

The trail weaves its way though the Zion Canyon Valley. Looking back towards the start of the trail on the other side of the river (photo taken on the way back down).

Once into Refrigerator Canyon, the trail does level out somewhat for a short distance. Enough to give your legs and lungs a break. Then onward and upward.

After nearly a mile through Refrigerator Canyon, you get to Walter's Wiggles, comprised of 21 short but very steep switchbacks and named after Walter Ruesch, the first superintendent of Zion National Park. In 1924, he helped design and engineer these switchbacks. (Photo taken on the way back down.)

Ascending the last of Walter's Wiggles you arrive at a broad area called Scout Lookout. There is more to come, and believe it or not, the easiest part is behind you!

To be continued... Angels Landing :: The Overture

The need for more speed!

For those anxious readers interested in yet another story of a climber who has set yet another new 'unofficial' round trip summit speed record, please read on. For the rest of you who are tired of hearing of such drivel, we suggest you continue reading anyway and perhaps you still may find the story interesting. Besides, how can you ignore such an amazing feat? A person climbs to the summit of Mount Rainier in under 3 1/2 hours, and then descends to Paradise in just over an hour, resetting the speed record to 4 hours, 40 minutes and 59 seconds.

For comparison, it takes most folks 5 hours just to make it UP to Camp Muir, never mind to the summit and back to Paradise again in less time! Can you imagine the feeling of being lapped on a day hike by someone who has summitted? Then again, the person running past you on the Muir Snowfield is Guillermo (Willie) Benegas, an international guide, sponsored member of the North Face team, and highly accredited guide with the American Mountain Guides Association (AMGA). Benegas' climbing portfolio is impressive. Among other credentials, he has been a guide with Mountain Madness for 10 years and is the previous speed record holder on Aconcagua... Oh yeah, he's climbed Everest seven times and leads expeditions up numerous peaks over 26,000 ft.

For more information and an account of the ascent by Benegas, check out his interview in The News Tribune.

Antelope Canyon

WOW... Antelope Canyon is... in a word... SPECTACULAR!!!!! Definitely some of the most fascinating light I have ever seen. I spent 4.5 hours in the canyon. My mind is officially blown :-)



Above: The entrance to the canyon. Only about two feet wide at its beginning, the canyon is a bit of a squeeze to climb down into it!



Once you are down in the canyon, it does open up and travel through it is a bit easier than at the beginning. There are several areas, though, where it is only wide enough for one person to walk through at a time.



Above: A shot of Lionel, one of the Navajo guides that brings tour groups through the canyon.



Every place you look in the canyon is a treat for the eyes. The shapes and lines in the canyon walls provide for unlimited photo opportunities. The reflected light coming from above makes for some of the most amazing light that a photographer will ever see.

Wild Sunflower

Sunflowers help brighten up my day.

A Moveable View

Staying by the sea, I notice how unaccustomed I've become to a stationary view of any kind. Back in the city, the windows of my apartment offer vistas of a brick wall, a narrow alley, a tangle of branches and telephone wires. And I usually keep the blinds closed when I work anyhow; there is too much commotion outside.



But now I sit on this porch, just yards from the water's edge. A vast harbor is stretched out in front of me. The surface ripples of the cerulean water are like a silk scarf fluttering in the wind. Lobster buoys bob up and down. Now and then a fishing boat goes by. A family of swans travels back and forth along the shore in perfect peloton formation.



It is peaceful and almost improbably beautiful. And as I try to work, I find that it drives me nuts - the unchangeability of it. I am not used to looking at scenery so... passively. My eyes focus on the right outeredge of the harbor, where the rocky shore curves and disappears from view. As I study it, the curve begins to look hard-etched and forbidding, willfully preventing me from seeing beyond the bend.



In fact, I know - roughly at least - what lies around the bend; I have been there many times. A hilly back road winds along the shore's edge sleepily. There is a small patch of dense woods along the cliffs, then a gravel garden path, a wild rocky beach, an abandoned coast guard's tower... Soon I am visualising each of these landmarks in great detail, picturing them as they look when I cycle past them. I laugh at myself, realising that I am enjoying this mental game more than looking at the view in front of me.



I close my laptop, get on my bike and take off just as the sun begins to set, heading for the hilly back road that will take me around the bend. No one else is here. The road narrows and steepens dramatically and I get into my lowest gear. With each pedal stroke I see more and more of the landscape that was hidden from view as I sat on the porch just minutes earlier, and this fills me with an absurd sense of fulfillment. I reach the top easily, unhurriedly, and there sits the patch of woods with its narrow mossy path to the edge of the cliff. I keep going, coasting down the steep hill now at what feels like flying speed, passing all the landmarks I'd recalled. The mysterious garden path, the wild beach. And I remember now also the old sprawling house with a beautiful garden and the "bunnies for sale" sign taped to the green fence. After the coastguard's house I stop and turn around, my urge to experience a movable view satisfied. It seems silly now to have taken this short ride for no reason at all, but I am pleased.



I roll up to the porch as the last of daylight disappears. The vast harbor is still there, its fluttering silk surface now a deep indigo. A green light flickers in the distance. A stray boat is being rowed ashore. The swan peloton is making its last round. I get my coffee cup and turn on the porch light, ready to settle down in the stillness. But I know the moveable view will call out to me again tomorrow, even though I know what's around the bend.

Unusual Seismic Recordings from Mount Rainier Glaciers

This is Steve Malone with the Pacific Northwest Seismic Network located at the University of Washington in Seattle. We operate seismographs throughout the Pacific Northwest and have three located high on Mount Rainier. We often record seismic events from all of our glacier-clad volcanoes that we associate with glacier motion, i.e. "ice-quakes." However, since about May 20, we have detected a strange set of these events coming from the upper Winthrop Glacier. We are calling these small events "clones" because the seismic waveforms from one event are near-duplicates of those from other events indicating a repeating source. They also seem to occur at very regular intervals.


The interval between events is often as short as every 3 minutes but changes from time to time and has been as much as 15 minutes between events. We think that their magnitude (on the Richter scale) is about M = -1 (i.e., 8 orders of magnitude smaller than the Nisqually earthquake of 2001).



So, what are these puppies? We think they represent small periodic slips at the bed of the glacier. Perhaps there is a large rock embedded in the bottom of the glacier and as the glacier moves it scrapes this rock along the bed, only a few mm in each slip. But why are they so regular in time? Maybe water pools up-hill of the rock until it slightly lifts the glacier allowing the rock to more easily slip and this then drains that small pool of water starting the process over. We think that water has an important influence on glacier sliding but don't understand the mechanism very well.


How can you help? Anyone climbing Rainier on the east side (upper Emmons or Winthrop Glacier routes) may see or hear things that would help us pin these suckers down. Please let me know of anything you think may be out of the ordinary (sounds, sights, feelings???). Particularly those of you who have been in this area before and can compare what may be different from previous climbs. Our best guess where these originate (based on stacking 4000 individual events to get the best relative seismic wave arrival times at six seismic stations and using a 1-D seismic velocity model with station elevation corrections, blah blah blah, other scientific mumbo-jumbo) puts the location at 46.85950 north 121.7610 west (i.e., 2.5 km WSW of Camp Schurman or 3.4 km NNW of Camp Muir or about 600 meters up from the top of Russell Cliffs).

To see these suckers yourself check out our "webicorders" at: http://www.pnsn.org/WEBICORDER/VOLC
and click on the date-time for one of the high Rainier stations (RCS, RCM, STAR). The small blips that have about the same size and shape are our "clones".

Send email to: steve@ess.washington.edu or give me a call (206-685-3811)


Steve Malone

Badlands :: Where the Buffalo Do Roam

Wednesday, August 24th - - As I pulled in the Sage Creek Basin Overlook, I remembered from the sign at Hay Butte that bison reportedly roam this area but I hadn't noticed any. I drove on over to the far side of the parking area and was getting out of Van Dora when I heard a grunting, snorting sound behind me.





Turning around I saw a long line of buffalo, the first few were approaching the top of the bluff and were just a few feet away! They extended for quite a distance down the hill. I immediately got back into the van and put the windows down so I could take pictures.





The vast majority of the buffalo came up on the passenger side of the van but the one above and below came up on the drivers side, and oh, so close!





I think this one must have been the calf of the one above. They stuck pretty close to each other the entire time I saw them.





I thought this was the last of them...



So after they passed by, I gathered some nerve and stood up outside the van and saw more of them coming.





Others that had already come up moved slowly through the parking lot, some continuing on across the road. But some of them stopped to browse or scratch their bellies on the posts that delineated the parking lot.





They were of all different ages and sizes and colors. Just like people, bison have distinguishing characteristics too.













For about 15 minutes I was entirely alone with this herd of bison. It was incredible. The sounds they made were like nothing I had ever heard before – growling, grunting, snorting. This car was stopped in the road waiting for the buffalo to pass – it took about 30 minutes from the time I first saw them for all of them to get to the top of the bluff and across the highway. This one lone bison lingered for quite some time scratching his belly on the post then he (or she) too moved on. And all I could do was shake my head and say Wow! again and again.