Stop thief!

Red-winged Blackbird (Agelaius phoeniceus)
Chicken food thief!
Actually I don't begrudge the blackbirds or grackles a little chicken feed. But I have started to wonder about the possibility of melamine in the layer ration.

Counting Books

I had a fun two days this week rearranging ALL our books, culling out some, and counting them.
I didn't intend to do this. I had walked to the big bookcase in the library looking for a particular book and noticed that the shelves were looking messy and that a lot of books weren't in their proper categories making finding them difficult.
When you have as many books as we have, you have to categorize them or you'll never find anything! I arranged them by the Dewey Decimal System several years ago.
"And how many books do you have?" you might ask. I'll tell you; 2,506! I figured that if I read one a week, in 48 years I'll have read them all. I'll be 104 by then. Fortunately, lots of them are children's books and ones I've already read. Whew! I'll only be 98 by the time I finish the rest.

Things allways seem to work out

I didn't get out of Oakland till my second night. Many trains rolled by but nothing had my name on it. I was hoping for a long haul hotshot but after waiting 24 hours, impatience got the best of me and I dove into a boxcar.
I got off in Roseville with hopes of a faster higher priority train. Man, it was still hot for September. I hid in what shade I could find and watched them work trains in the yard. Not a single train I wanted to ride came or went that whole day and night. I shuffled into downtown for coffee and refill my water jug, Then back out to wait and stew some more. By that evening I was really wondering what the fuck was going on with the freight traffic in Roseville these days? It was once the hub yard for all the freight in far west.
My answer arrived in living form, carrying a backpack and also prowling the mainline. I didn't catch his name but he was much more up to date with the happs then me. He was calling in unit numbers on his cell phone to find out their destination. Then he told me that they have down scaled this yard. Most traffic from down south and the Bay Area are taking the by pass in Sacramento. That put an end to the mystery.
As we're still talking a train pulled in. He called in the numbers and said "that one is heading for Seattle", "I think I'll take it". It was all empty 48 trailers but he went and got on it anyways. I went back to lounging in my hidden spot and not but a few minutes later I hear the rail cops pulling him off.
Again nothing that seemed like a good east bound ride came through that night. I shuffled back to town once again that morning for coffee and some internet at the library. It was Saturday already. 4 days and I had made it a hours drive from Oakland.
I talked to Kelly at the library, It was her weekend. She came to resuce me from shuffling back and forth through Roseville pulling my hair out.
We drove up to Quincy to visit Chris, Lily and Ciano. We got in some good hanging out and a little high sierra hiking and BBQing.
Kelly drove me out to Portola. The same little mountain town I got off at one my way out. We raced a double stack train on the way and got there in enough time for a quick good-bye and for me to dash off to catch it.
There was not a single bucket on the whole thing. I was sick of trains passing while I sat and watched so I rode suicide (up in the wind on the deck) through the night into Nevada. At the next yard, Wherever it was, I switched trains and got into a boxcar. That night I got off in Salt Lake City.
I had met Dallin randomly a few months earlier in Wyoming. He gave me his phone number and said If I was ever in SLC to give him a call. So I called. He gave me directions to the "Boing" anarchist collective and met me there. I stayed the night there cuz on his recomendation it is better to take the city bus in the morning for 2 bucks to Ogden and catch East from there.
In Ogden it took a while for the right combination. You have to catch south out of the yard. I was worried I would just get taken right back down to SLC.
Finally a junker came in off the west side of the y at the north end and was switching to the east side of the yard heading south. (say that 10 times fast)It was just what I was waiting for, I ran down the strand and found a shotgun grainer.(a.k.a. Double hole canadian grainer) ( my favorite junk train rideable cuz it has a nice big hidden compartment to ride in)I climbed in and went to sleep and woke up in Green river, Wy.
I was broken up and humped all over that yard but eventually dragged on to the east. Next stop I recognized the yard of Rawlins and knew the next one was Laramie.
This is where I started talking to the train in a nice voice asking it; "Please slow down enough for me to only do a couple somersaults" or "I promise to brush my teeth more and learn to like grapefruit if you'll just slow for me to bail off without turning completly to dog meat. But really I was preparing myself for having to make my way back from Cheyenne the next day.
Just after dark, on the out skirts of Laramie the train started to slow and by the time I was just where I had gotten on a month and a half ago it stopped. I stepped off in the warm night air, filthy, hungry and happy as can be. Man, I love those trains.

Dirt

Yesterday I got sick of riding on paved surfaces and decided to find some dirt. The ride choice in those situations is usually Mt Jerusalem, but yesterday I decided to head for Mooball National Park near Murwillumbah. Another day of stunningly beautiful temperatures caused by the clouds keeping the sun away for a generous portion of the ride.

This is an area that I'm always planning to visit more often and explore more thoroughly, but for some reason it just never happens. This is an area characterised by great views of the surrounding mountains shrouded in a surprisingly wide variety of forest types.







The notable thing on the ride was the amount of sand that seems to have appeared on the dirt "road" through the park. I am also becoming increasingly curious about the Palmvale Spur firetrail that runs off to the north east just before the final descent into Murwillumbah. That project will have to wait for another day.

I will, however, be replacing the rear tyre after yet another flat on the way home, this time on the way out of Urliup. I'm planning a trip to Minyon Falls this weekend, which just happens to be a long weekend on the Gold Coast (no, I won't be attending the Gold Coast show this year either) and I really don't need these hassles. I'll probably retain the old one as a spare over the weekend, before getting rid of it.

Downieville, Clampett Style

We spent three days up at Downieville this past weekend. We loaded it all up and took off Thursday night. And true to our nature, we arrived at a little after midnight and set up our tents in a full moon.

When we were kids, we went on a lot of road trips. Our vacations were never luxurious. They were the outdoorsy, backpacky, camp type, waterskiing, houseboating, biking type, loading up the car type things. After a while my mom stopped coming to the camping type ones. She got tired of the whole tent and dirt thing.

But we kept doing them anyway. Dad was always willing to pack up and go and usually it was with a bunch of other families whose mom's had gotten sick of the camp style vacations as well.

Just the dads and the kids and camping and budweiser and "the Eagles" and chaos. I still sing that song, Desperado to myself every time I go camping.
Back then, our station wagon didn't have a big safari type rack on top like we have on our truck now. But that didn't stop my dad. He'd tie it all up on top anyway, Clampett style. And then we'd take off.
And on just about every single trip - on the way up to Tahoe or Yosemite or Nevada City, something would fall off the roof onto the freeway.

And we'd all sit quietly in the station wagon and watch our dad, running along the side of the freeway gathering our tent poles and freeze dried food and pillows, muttering to himself. And then we'd have to sit with whatever had fallen, in our laps, for the rest of the way.

And then we'd get finally make it up to the camp spot and it would be 11pm, and dad would put up the tent in the dark. And it'd take an hour because back then, well, you remember - all those tent poles you had and none of them came attached like nowadays.

All all the other dads would stand around and heckle my dad and eventually they'd pitch in and help.
Nothing fell off our roof on our trip. And it only took about 15 minutes to get our tents up in the dark. We work like ninjas.

And I rode Downieville for my first time. And fell in love with it. 20 miles of almost ALL downhill with a rare climb is like art. It was one of those perfect rides, where you ride almost all of it, creek crossings and baby heads and bridges and cliffs and all. And you smile hard while you ride it.

A moment of relief...

Martin and I decided on an early morning ride to Springbrook. We actually had quite an enjoyable time on the climb, trying out do each other, before I clinched the KOM points with a late attack right at the summit (of course, I'd already had to stop and wait at Salmon's Saddle, but that's another issue). Springbrook, on the morning of Christmas Eve was delightfully quiet, green and cool.

Purlingbrook Falls:






About the only company we had all morning:


Anyone for a dive into the pool?






Ahh, bliss. Actually, it was a day of redemption. It was here I had a calamity some months ago (http://life-cycle.blogspot.com/2004/09/glad-that-ones-over.html). It really felt good to be back to a place that always feels like home, so many times have I been here.

It's just a shame we had to come home to all the other crap. Let me tell you, last minute shopping for Christmas supplies in the heat of a Gold Coast Summer, next time I go to Springbrook, I'm spending the day up there.

Be Curious Today!

"Curiosity is one of the permanent and certain characteristics of a vigorous intellect." Samuel Johnson
A new week filled with new hopes and possibilities. What are you curious about today? What have you always wanted to know something about? What new thing have you always wanted to try?
Try it today, or at least plan out how you can start learning this week. Take a small step toward your dream, and you'll be one step closer to seeing it realized.
Begin!

Skiing Mount Rainier

There is nothing totally new about skiing Mt. Rainier. Sure, it's not done that often, but people do ski and ride it... However, skiing the Wilson Headwall is something special. The recent snowfall is settling nicely in some areas. Climbers-turned-skiers (or are they skiers-turned-climbers?) are making their moves on Rainier's slopes. Ski, board, and snowpack reports are welcome!

As for the internet... this blogger site has its down days... But that's ok, because it's easier to express frustration at an internet site, than say, well... we'll just move on...

A few "climbing instigators" have been sending GREAT route conditions information. I've been trying to dump most of it directly into the blog. But as the amount of information grows, I wonder if it would be easier to have a bullentin board?

Please send me your thoughts? I'm very pleased that you are willing to share their experiences! Everyone REALLY appreciates it!
Image by Sky Sjue, just before he drops down the Wilson Headwall...

Chalmers Church of Scotland

Interiors within the Protestant Church of Scotland are usually plain, even austere. Chalmers Church of Scotland in Port Seton is anything but. Built in 1904 in the fishing and coal mining community of Port Seton, it has become known as the 'fishermen's church' because of the elaborate stencilling of fish and waves of the sea throughout the interior, and because of the shape of the building which resembles the hull of a boat.
I discover again the limitations of my photography skills. Taking shots of the interior of the church in artificial light at the end of a dark November afternoon was a challenge too far, but I was kindly given permission to take some photos so I persevered. The shot above towards the Chancel shows some of the original fish stencilling. Apart from the local fishing connection it refers to the secret sign used by early Christians during the times of persecution. The fishing boat has no religous significance, but is a reminder of the fishing community who worshipped here.

The steps leading up to the pulpit have on one side this carving of fishermen hauling in their nets. The men each have a different expression - I'd guess they were very different characters. They remind me of the little Vikings Oliver Postgate created for his Noggin the Nog sagas. Of course as Scottish east coast fishermen they're probably in direct lineage from the Vikings.
I took other photos, but they really didn't come out. Nor did photos of the exterior, as I was buffeted by a gale force wind and driving rain.
Our daughter was part of a clarsach and song recital in the church, along with her teacher and another student. After the recital tea and home baking were laid on in the church hall, with tables set with the Women's Guild china and tartan napkins and ribbons in honour of St Andrew's Day. I longed to take a photo of the festive tables, but it wouldn't have been appropriate (i.e. people would have thought I was weird, and more importantly our daughter would have been mortified). But I did catch this shot of an embroidery made by the Guild for the centenary of the church. The strip lights in the hallway don't enhance it, but if you can ignore these it's a lovely interpretation of church life, with all the youth organisations to the right of the church building. The burning bush on the left is the symbol of the Church of Scotland.