2500+ Mile

Back pedaling Monday. Had a SWINT (Wabash Trace) board meeting that evening so decided to ride Malvern to Imogene (or as far as I have time for).
Just as I left Malvern I met Randy - a Silver City residence. We were both stopping to clear a branch on the trail. We rode together to White Cloud. Nice to have someone to ride with.
Previously, I had ridden from the south to Strahan and out of Imogene perhaps again to Strahan. But This was the first time I attempted the Malvern to Imogene ride. That 13.6 miles section of the Wabash Trace is a roller coaster. Seem like always climbing or descending.
Today's photo -- believe it or not, THIS is 370th St in Mills County, Iowa! The Wabash Trace is to the left at the street sign. There are still dirt streets/roads in Iowa in the 21st century.
Didn't quite make it to Imogene when I had to turn back for the meeting. Think I was about 1.5 miles short (turned around at 390th St.) Back in Malverm, as I loaded the bike on the car, I see I got a flat - what great timing. That bike needs new tires anyway and are on order.
Yesterday was a "touring" relaxing pace ride on the hybrid. A ride to post miles, not training. Rode from the bike shop to S. Omaha Bridge, to Trails Center. Stopped for break and on up to the Bob Bridge. Then rode non-stop (except for lights) to the bike shop.
Blew past the 2500 mileage mark for the year. My 30 mile ride on paved trails put me at 2520 miles for . That's over 300 miles over last year's total.
This was the first relaxing ride on the hybrid since the new tires. Really enjoyed the ride. Averaged just under 13 mph over the ride.

Missing Mail Boxes

Sometime yesterday or this morning my mail box and the neighbor's mail box disappeared. Both were hit which ripped them off of their posts. The mail boxes are nowhere to be found.
I am thinking that they were hit with the wing of the snow plow. I have not seen any other missing/damaged mail boxes on the road. The plow (or someone with a blade) came through twice over the last 2 days.
When I found the missing mail boxes, I saw no indication of where they went. They were either threw clear form the area or covered with snow.
This is NOT what I need with my problems. The is no way I can replace the mail box and mount with the snow, frozen ground, and my surgery.
It would be nice that who did this confessed and replaced the mail boxes. But that is wishful thinking.

Water Falling

A beautiful, yet artificial, waterfall in Arizona.

The Oregon Garden

Major rainstorms with wind are predicted for Oregon. It was supposed to start tonight. Guess what? The rain and wind kicked up on our way south to The Oregon Garden in Silverton. As we drove south from Tigard, the rain decreased. By the time we got to the garden, we had wind and a few sprinkles. That was about to change.

We used my Groupon for half-price admission for four people ($22) which was pretty good. As soon as our hands were stamped to prove we paid, the docent in the visitor center said, "A tram should be arriving right about now." The 25-minute tram tour is included in the admission.

Sure enough, as soon as we walked out to the tram stop, a tram arrived. The tram is open air, but has plastic "windows" that can be rolled down
to provide protection from wind and rain. Mom and Jan rolled their
windows down, but I wanted to take photos and so did the lady next to me.
We left our window up. There wasn't any rain, but the wind was chilly.

Mom and Jan before they rolled their "window" down.

The tram.

The garden is 120 acres, 80 acres are developed. Water for the garden is provided by twice-filtered water reclaimed from the sewage treatment plant. In order to meet water-quality standards, the water has to be cooled as it is too warm as it comes from the treatment plant. The first area the tram took us through was the wetlands. A number of ponds were created so the water could flow from pond to pond, thus cooling it.

Here is a photo log of our tram tour:

Conifer garden

White oak savannah

The large tree on the left in the photo below is a protected signature oak, one of the oldest on earth.

400-year-old Signature Oak, an Oregon Heritage Tree.

I call these "wizard" trees.

Still lots of color in the garden!

Beautiful plant - don't know what it is.

Willamette Valley Ponderosa Pine.

The trees in the following photo are poplars. These are planted as a crop and can grow eight feet in one year. Their bark is ground up, mixed with water and used to create pressboard, cardboard and high-quality paper. This is a great renewable resource.

Poplars

Ooh...weird plant.

The "living" sea serpent made with succulents/sedums.

Jan, Mom, Mike in the Conifer Garden.

I love all the different greens in these conifers.

A few weeks ago, the tree below was hit by lightning. The garden is leaving it as it is to show the power and destructive force of Mother Nature.

Tree struck by lightning.

One of the reflecting pools. I'm reflecting on autumn.

Our tram driver spent quite a bit of time talking about the Oregon Garden Resort next to The Oregon Garden. All stays include free admission to The Oregon Garden and you can walk from the resort, through a gate, and be at a tram stop or on a trail to take you into the garden.

We finished our tram tour, then walked through part of the garden. As we were walking up to the reflecting pools,
I started to have a vertigo attack and became very dizzy. My sister had
me sit down on the rock wall that goes around the reflecting pool. I closed
my eyes and stayed very still for a couple of minutes. Luckily the
episode passed and we continued on.

It was lunch time,
so we walked up the path to The Oregon Garden Resort to have lunch in
their dining room. (Most lunches are under $10.) What a lovely place to
have lunch. The view overlooks the gardens and the Willamette
Valley. Today was not the best day to enjoy the view because the rains
came while we were eating. The clouds lowered giving limited views.

We walked through here to The Oregon Garden Resort for lunch.

Front door of the Oregon Garden Resort.

In October, The Oregon Garden is having an event called "Scarecrows in the Garden." The resort is getting in on the fun and created these two lovely scarecrows.

Scarecrows at the Resort.

After our healthy lunch, we headed out to wait for the tram to take us back to the visitor center. Picture if you will, strong, gusty winds and driving rain. We have ten minutes to wait for the tram in the gazebo. The gazebo has no walls. Mom and Jan went up to the covered patio to wait. Mike and I kept an eye out for the tram from the gazebo. Brr. Four chilled people boarded the tram. Thankfully, all the "windows" were rolled down and zipped up. So ended our day at The Oregon Garden.

Back at Mom's by early afternoon, we decided to watch a DVD called "Evening" that we had checked out from the library. The cover description sounded pretty good with an all-star cast: Meryl Streep, Vanessa Redgrave, Toni Collette, Claire Danes, Hugh Dancy, and Glenn Close. It's supposed to be about the power of the past and the unbreakable bonds between mothers and daughters, family, and the loves of their lives. Our recommendation: don't bother. We didn't finish watching it. About half-way through Mom and Jan stopped watching to finish dinner preparations. It was a weird, boring movie.

For dinner we had dark turkey meat that had been in the slow cooker all day, broccoli, mashed yams, and cranberry sauce. Such a good meal for a cold, wet day. For dessert, Mom made peach crisp from peaches we bought in the orchard yesterday.

Jan took off after dinner to go to a singles social at church. Mike, Mom and I played Rummikub. Mike headed home about 8 p.m. At 9 p.m., Mom and I watched Shark Tank, which we absolutely love.

In all the driving we've been doing the past couple of days, we have seen many RVs out and about...many heading south, but some probably heading out for the start of hunting season. I'm thinking they've been hearing the weather forecast and decided to skedaddle out of here.

Plans for us to go to the coast tomorrow are off. Weather maps are showing red, there are weather alerts on TV about heavy rain, with wind gusts up to 60 mph, and possible flooding. No way do I want to drive two hours out and two hours back in that kind of weather.

Instead, Mike and I are going to see "The Grandmaster" in downtown Portland. Enjoy your weekend.

Travel Bug out.

Off and running -- THIS time?

Well, here I am, the third attempt at creating a new blog with the second host -- I'm sure I'll get the hang of it yet! Things didn't quite work out with the earlier attempts, if this fails I'm going to bed! Anyone who follows this blog for any length of time will probably learn more about me then I can disclose with one entry (and perhaps things I don't yet realise myself). However, I'll get the formalities out of the way now. Born in Parramatta, Sydney, Australia on 1 October, 1976. I grew into this scary creature:

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As you may have guessed, cycling is a big part of my life. It's transport, recreation, stress relief and a heap of other things rolled into one. It will appear on these pages quite often -- along with other rants I have which will probably become clear later. Anyway, I'll leave this entry here for now, as I need to explore the features of this site a little more. I'll probably have something else to whine about later on.

Oregon Greenery

Yesterday I finally arrived in Portland at 6:00 p.m. Pacific Daylight Time (PDT), rented a car at the airport, arrived at Mom's house at 7:00 p.m., then we left to go to Oktoberfest at Oaks Park in Portland. Mom, my sister and I had a fun time eating wurst (sausage), red cabbage, dancing the polka and chicken dance, watching the Tirolean dancers and listening to oom-pa-pa music.

Hey, how come I'm the boy??

Tirolean dancers.

Tirolean dancers.

At 9:45 p.m. we headed back to Mom's house.

This morning, after reading the Sunday paper, Mom and I went to Sherwood and did a 5K (3.1 mi.) Volksmarch through countryside and neighborhoods. We had wind and some rain, but overall it was a pleasant walk. Even though it was 62 degrees, we were quite warm with our rain coats on.

The first signs of fall colors.

Sherwood, Oregon countryside

Pampas grass in bloom.

Quite the mailbox set up!

Zinnias in bloom now.

This afternoon, Frank and Gina (brother and sis-in-law) visited and brought a new card game for us to play. I can't remember the name of it (something) 10. We had a good time playing that, then we switched to playing pinochle.

A gorgeous rainbow was over the golf course. We could see it from her living room.

Brilliant rainbow - we could see all the colors vividly.

View from Mom's living room window.

Michael, my son, came over for dinner. Mom had cooked lamb shanks and yams in the slow cooker and Mike brought Hawaiian sweet bread rolls. Plus we had a marinated cucumber/tomato salad, steamed green beans (fresh-picked from Mom's garden) and cinnamon applesauce. For dessert, Mom served warm apple crisp with whipped cream. Such a good meal!

Mom, Michael, Frank, Gina sitting down to dinner.

After dinner, we all sat down to watch the movie "21" with Kevin Spacey. If you didn't get to see it at the theater a few years ago, it's about MIT students who learned how to count cards for the game of 21. They went to Las Vegas to make money at the casinos and lived the high life while they were there. Then they'd go back to MIT and continue their studies as if nothing happened.

Movie time - Frank, Gina, Mom, Michael

Tomorrow night, I'm meeting friends, Curt and Lexi, in Wilsonville to have dinner and get caught up on how they're doing.

Time to go read myself to sleep with a John Sandford novel, "Chosen Prey."

Night night.

Drive By Shootings

Sometimes time moves slowly.
Like when you fall off, from the top of the jungle gym at school. Like when you fall off your mountain bike at 40 and knock your front teeth out. Like when you see your 2 year old kid, falling through the floor heater vent and you simply reach down and pluck him in mid air from a 20 foot fall. Like when you trip on the top step of a 12 foot ladder.
I remember time moving slowly. On a Friday afternoon.
At 4 pm.
Jason sitting at my computer, logging me in. So I could do something to the website. I couldn't remember my password. He couldn't either.
There are too many passwords, I said.
I don't think I set you up with this password, he said. I wonder who's password I've been using, I said.
George walking in from the warehouse. Dropping something on my desk. And turning to go back outside and commenting about the smell coming from the kitchen. It smells like garlic bread he said.
I could eat some garlic bread right now, I said. Me too, he said.
Jason, trying, still, to log me in. George, walking through the door back out to the warehouse. Peter shuffling by. Nate, in his office, humming to the music. Andrea, sitting next to Jason. At her desk. I am standing.
And then. Six. Six rounds of gunfire.

Like fireworks. Nate, coming out from his office. Jason and Andrea and I standing up and walking towards the front door.
Look, they're all running, she said.
A pickup truck. Was that gunfire? Rick asks. And then more. Like fireworks. Pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop and pop. And the car, speeding and braking. Screeching. Past the building, still shooting.
Pop. Pop, pop.
Jason yelling to get down, get down. As he grabs the phone and ducks and runs into the warehouse.
Holy shit, I think.
And down I go. Along the ground, into the warehouse. Away from the front of the building. George shuts the rolling door. To the back side of the warehouse.
And 911 is a recording. In Spanish and English. And we're on hold. Listening. Waiting. And the recording plays. And we're on hold. The same thing. On speaker phone. On hold. Recording. Three minutes.
At least there's no hold music, I think. What's taking so long, I say. And finally, they answer. And his voice trembles as he explains. Drive by. Shooting. Just now. Right here.
And 12 minutes later they arrive. To take statements. And look for casings. And view the holes in the cars. In front of the building. All along. Our building. Our side of the street. Has anyone been shot they ask.
At 5:30 pm. I'm on my bike. Riding down the street. Down the same street they drove down at 4pm. In the same direction. And everybody's inside.
Empty and quiet.
Over the weekend I forget about it often. And I remember it often. But it's not in slow motion. It's fast.
I see the car, as we look out the window. I see the pickup, in front of the car. I see the flash of them running. I hear Andrea. I feel the shirt as I pull on Jason to get down. I feel the ground as we jump down, and out into the warehouse. I see the look on George's face.
I hear Rick as he says to the cop downtown?
And then Monday comes and we go, back to work. At the bike company we work at. And we work all day. And we talk about bullet proof vests with our company logo. And things seem almost normal again. And I rationalize that the probability of it happening again is very slim to none.
But nobody eats lunch outside.
At 5:20 pm on a perfect spring evening I ride my bike down the street. Down the same street they drove down on, on Friday at 4 pm.
In the same direction. With Jason. In a few blocks we bid adieu. And I turn left and he turns right and I ride along. Alone.
And I hear them. Again.
I don't count them. Because, the improbably of a second drive by shooting within three days of the first one isn't statistically plausible. At least not for a middle aged mom who commutes on an Xtracycle. And I decide that they're just fireworks. But back at the office Rick hears them. There are 12. And back at the warehouse George hears them. And he wonders about us, because just a few minutes earlier, we all said goodbye. See you tomorrow.
Ride safely.
I hear the car. Speeding and stopping. And I hear more shots. Pop, pop. Pop.
I'm riding my bike. And I feel dizzy. And I ride in a crooked line. And I look for places to hide. And I think about running into a house. Or behind a car. And I think about the time I stole the rubber bouncy ball and how my mom made me take it back and hand it to the clerk at 7 Eleven. And I had to apologize. And I look down the streets as I pass them, to see how close they are to me. And ride as fast as I can, away. And I know they're not after me.
But if they drive by me, will they shoot at me too?
Ride as fast as you can.
To a busy intersection, and I turn right onto Alcatraz, into car traffic. I ride my bike. Next to the cars. To BART. Where there are people. Walking. And riding bikes. And talking. And listening to music. And smiling. And waiting. And I look at them and wonder what they're thinking about right then. Because I'm thinking about drive by shootings. And throwing up.
And I slow down. And ride home. And eat half a burrito. And take a shower. And go to a meeting at the middle school. A PTA board meeting as a nominee for the board. For next year. And we talk about budget deficits. And banners. And picnics. And the library. And I wonder. Where am I, right now. I'm not here.
On Tuesday I drive to work.
And I think to myself, on the way, that I now know. That as soon as you hear them, the fireworks. You get down on the ground. And I now know not to ride my bike through that neighborhood anymore.
Instead, take the long way home.