Gunks Routes: Beatle Brow Bulge (5.10a)

(Photo: Approaching the huge roof on Beatle Brow Bulge (5.10a).)



This past weekend was just beautiful. It was autumn at its best in the Hudson Valley, with crisp mornings, followed by moderate temperatures and abundant sunshine.



In other words: perfect climbing weather!



I was psyched to get out for a day with Adrian, especially since this was quite likely going to be my last Gunks day of . Two of the remaining three weekends in November are already booked up with family activities, and who knows what the weather will be like on my few remaining potential climbing days this month. Climbing in December is always a possibility, but a remote one. So this really could be it for the year.



As is the case every year, there is so much left undone.



But this has been a year of real accomplishment for me as a climber.



I got in better shape last winter and once the climbing season got under way I finally got my mojo back. I began to feel more like the climber I'd been in , before I broke my ankle in a climbing accident. This new/old me felt solid, confident, and hungry for harder climbs.



As I've chronicled here on my blog, I started leading 5.9 climbs in the Gunks again. I led a whole bunch of them this year, for the most part with great success. My goal was to become solid in 5.9, with the idea that I could go anywhere in the world and jump on a 5.9 and be sure that it would be well within my comfort zone.



I can't say I've quite reached that goal. The kind of climbing the Gunks offers is just too limited for that. Certainly my four days of climbing in the Adirondacks this year demonstrated to me that I'm not a solid 5.9 leader if the climbing involves vertical cracks and jamming. I'm sure that if I went to Yosemite, to cite another example, and tried to lead a typical Tuolumne 5.9-- featuring long runout slabs and oceans of fragile knobs-- I'd have my ass handed to me there as well.



But I feel good about the progress I've made in the Gunks on its brutish overhangs and thin face climbs. I've tried to keep stepping forward while at the same time being reasonable. I am convinced that you can make progress, climb hard, and still be careful. So far it all seems like it's making sense, most of the time.



I had another goal this year that I have not talked about so much.



I wanted to lead at least one Gunks 5.10 before the year was over.



I didn't necessarily care if I sent it onsight. It didn't have to go perfectly. I could take a fall, I figured, so long as I protected the hard moves well and kept things in control. Even if the climbing proved too difficult for me, if in the end I felt I'd done things right and protected myself well, then I'd regard the climb as a success and something I could build upon.



All year I had certain candidates in mind, climbs that had a reputation for being soft for 5.10 and for having good pro at the crux, like The Dangler or Wegetables, to name just two possibilities.



But as the year wore on I started to think I'd never really do it. And why push? This year's goal was 5.9. Why not make 5.10 the goal for next year?



Then a few weeks ago I went out climbing with my eight-year-old son Nate. We were climbing with another dad/son duo I met through my kids' school. The dad used to be a regular Gunks hardman and his son, who is Nate's age, is also into climbing. I thought if we all went out together it might inspire my son to get a little more interested in climbing. (Alas, it didn't work out that way. Nate gamely tried a few climbs, mostly just to humor me, but he was not converted.)



We were climbing at Lost City. I'd never been there before. After all these years it was nice to finally go out there and check the place out! I didn't get to try any of the legendary climbs there, because I was too busy setting up 5.4's for my son. But I saw something that really inspired me: a fourteen-year-old boy attempting to lead Stannard's Roof.



The young man actually lives in my apartment building, though we'd never met before. (Small world!) He'd spent a few weeks this summer at a rock climbing camp in Maine and had recently led his first 5.9's in the Gunks. But today he'd elected to try Stannard's Roof, which upped the ante significantly. The route is reputed to go at "easy" 5.10, and though the roof is very large-- it requires getting truly horizontal for a couple body lengths-- the holds are quite positive, or so I am told.



The boy couldn't do it. He made several efforts, getting up into the roof, placing good pro, then climbing down and resting. He repeatedly got up to his high point, decided he couldn't hang on, and came back down. Eventually he downclimbed to a fixed anchor and retreated.



Watching him, I was impressed with his good sense. He didn't just run it out and go for it. He wanted to do it right and in control. And when he knew he wasn't going to make it, he backed down.



His effort on Stannard's Roof reawakened my desire to hop on a 5.10 of my own. This kid was doing EXACTLY what I should be doing. I resolved to find a 5.10 like this, with good pro and clean falls, and get up into it. Whether I succeeded or failed, I knew it would be good for me.



So when Adrian and I got out last weekend I was determined to find the right 5.10. Ultimately I decided on Beatle Brow Bulge. It seemed like one of the easier 5.10 climbs. It was historically rated 5.9+ until Dick Williams boosted its rating to 5.10a in his 2004 guidebook. It seemed to me like strenuous climbing, but juggy and unmysterious. I'd just have to hang in there and keep moving. And it looked like I'd find good pro out the roof, so that any fall would be into the air.



Most of all the route just looked awesome. The roof is HUGE.





(Photo: Grabbing the holds under the roof on Beatle Brow Bulge (5.10a). The real business starts with the next step up.)



Dick Williams lists the climb as having a first pitch consisting of 50 feet of 5.3 climbing up to a stance beneath the roof. I didn't see any point in stopping half-way and decided in advance to just do the whole thing in one pitch.



As I approached the roof it seemed to get bigger and bigger. My main concern was where I would place pro. I wanted something in the roof, not below it. And I wanted the piece to be out several feet from the wall, so if I fell I wouldn't slam right into the cliff.



There is a big block that sticks out like a thumb below the roof level. This block has chalk all over it, although it is not a necessary handhold. (It is a very useful foothold once you're in the business.) It appears a # 2 Camalot would go nicely in the space between this block and the roof, but I decided against using this placement. I was worried about the rock quality. It appeared to me that this block may not be well attached to the cliff. The last thing I wanted was to send a death block the size of a microwave down on Adrian.



Instead I found a great spot for a yellow Alien. (A yellow Metolius or yellow C3 may also work.) The cam goes in just above the two crucial first handholds in the roof; the spot is right above where my right hand is in the above photo. I was able to place this cam before committing to the roof, and it gave me great peace of mind as I started the moves.





(Photo: Getting into the roof! My right foot is on the thumb/death block that I avoided placing pro behind.)



One step up and I was really into it, fully horizontal beneath the big ceiling. The hands and feet were great, but it was strenuous. Immediately I reached over my head and placed a perfect red Camalot at the lip of the roof. I wanted to extend it with a runner but I knew the clock was ticking and I had to get moving. So I just clipped it direct, hoping it was close enough to the lip that it wouldn't create too much drag. (It worked out fine.)



Once I made that clip, everything was going to be okay. It was a piece off of which you could hang a truck, and below me was a totally clean fall into air. I could hear Adrian yelling his approval. "Yeah! Now go!"



And so I went, for once totally in the flow of the moves and not even thinking about the consequences of blowing it. The holds are great; there are no devious sequences. It's strictly a matter of hanging in there and continuing to move upward.





(Photo: getting over the big roof.)



Once I was over the roof, the pumpiness of the route really set in. It was still quite steep and after I moved up and placed more pro I started to worry that I might pop off. I stepped up again and placed another cam, then tried to shake out a little.



I decided maybe I should take a hang, just to be safe.



"Adrian, can you take?" I shouted.



But Adrian wasn't having it. He didn't pull in the ropes.



"Really??" he yelled. "It looks like you're almost there! Don't you want to keep going?"



"I'm just so pumped!" I shouted back.





(Photo: In the final pumpy territory on Beatle Brow Bulge (5.10a).)



But then I looked up and I realized he was right. The angle eased in another two moves. I could do this.



I got back to moving and in another couple steps got to a real rest stance. I was so grateful that Adrian hadn't let me take a hang. Instead of noble failure, I had sweet, sweet success. I had done it. I had led my first (alleged) 5.10 trad route in the Gunks, onsight. It was an amazing feeling.



I finished the climb as Dick Williams suggests, heading to the right as soon as I was level with a tree ledge with an anchor. We were using doubles, but it appeared to us that you could reach the ground from this first station with a single 60 meter rope. There is another station at the next ledge, up another 30 feet or so through dirty, low-angled territory. This higher station is attached to a much bigger tree, but you'd need double ropes or maybe a single 70 meter to use it.



As I stood at the station waiting for Adrian to join me, I felt a great satisfaction with not just this one climb, but the whole year. I am so lucky to have gotten out to climb as much as I have, and to have made real progress over the course of the season. I may get another day or two on the rock before is over, but if the weather sucks for the rest of November I'll still be happy. I hope I can keep improving and make this climb not just a peak climb for one climbing year, but a preview of numerous 5.10's to come. This winter I'll have strong motivation to work to make this 5.10 just the first of many.

A Special Concert at Peace River!

I have had an exceptionally busy week this past week. Actually the past two weeks have been unusually hectic for us. So I have tons of things to blog about, but I've been so busy that I haven't had the time to blog about them. Hopefully I will get caught up over the next several days or during my next few days off.



This was one of my favorite did but didn't blog about it things: a concert given to the park performed by pickleball friends. Not just any pickleball friends though. Super talented and musically gifted friends. I met Todd Hallawell and Garth Matthews both this year.



I heard about Todd long before I knew him though because Austin is a huge fan of Todd's musical talent and has shared numerous YouTube videos of him with me. He is an incredible musician. What I did not know was that his wife is also.



We were so impressed with Garth's playing also. They played beautifully together! Such a treat to hear all three of them play together and judging by the crowd's response, we were not the only ones that felt honored to hear them play.





Just a few short clips of them to give you some idea of their talent.

This Looks Promising...

As mentioned in the post The Evidence at Hand I am attempting to determine if my 4th Great-Grandfather, John Bray, would be eligible for the Territorial Guard Society of Indiana, which requires that he “lived within the boundaries of present-day Indiana on or before December 11, 1816 (the date Indiana was admitted to the United States).



I've been looking through the 78 pages of his pension file. Most of the documents pertain to his widow's attempts to receive his pension after his death in 1832. Long story short, she receives a pension, then she remarried in 1835 to John Bakes and lost the pension, he dies a few years later, and she reapplies for John's pension, which she receives until her death in 1876.



John had applied for a pension on June 20, 1818 through the Circuit Court of Switzerland County, Indiana (National Archives Pension File W 4145). His application was approved on August 9, 1818 and he was allowed a pension of $8 per month retroactive to the date of his application.



Of course, the documents were not in date sequence when they were microfilmed and subsequently digitized so it is like jumping back and forth in time (I'm also creating an index of the documents for future reference).



It doesn't appear to me that all of the documents relating to John's pension are in his file. There is a handwritten note stating “Suspended - See Letters to Claiment & Agent 16 Sept 1823.” Then written below that is “Suspension removed 6th Sept 1824 - See letters to agent & pensioner.” Those letters are not part of the images that were downloaded from what was then Footnote.com in ...



It was in the 76th image that I found a document dated February 24, 1824 that looks quite promising. I don't think it would be considered “proof of residence” on it's own merit, but it just might lead me to the document that could provide that proof! I believe it was created to validate the fact that John Bray was not a large landowner and as a result his pension was reinstated. The transcription is below and the images follow.



page 76:

The State of Indiana, Switzerland county SS

Personally appeared before me William C Keen a justice of the peace in and for the county aforesaid Daniel Bray, of lawful age, who after being duly Sworn deposeth and Saith that Some time in the early part of the year 1816, he went to the land office of Cincinnati to enter the North East quarter of Section No 25, town No 2, range 3 West. that owing to some mistake in the land office he could not effect an entry and he was obliged to return home and that his father John Bray, then went to the office and entered the said quarter, in his own name instead of ours, that he paid the one half of the entrance money, and claimed the one half of the quarter, that the balance of the money was paid for the entering of said quarter by John Cotton and Samuel Bray, and they claimed the other half of said quarter - but on making the final payment, John Cotton, Samuel Bray and myself made an arrangement, so that I was to have and pay for but Sixty acres of the land - John Cotton was to have and pay for forty two acres and a half and Samuel Bray was to have and pay for the balance of the Quarter and was given the balance of the Money due from me on said quarter to John Bray, as it was entered in his name, to make the final payment for us and the land was patented in his name and he has since gave us our deed and further saith not.

Daniel {his mark} Bray.

Sworn to and Subscribed before me this 23d day of Feby AD 1824. Willima C. Keen Justice of Peace.

It should be noted that Samuel Bray (my 3rd great-grandfather) is also the son of John Bray and John Cotton is his son-in-law, husband of his daughter Elizabeth.



page 77:

The state of Indiana, Switzerland County } SS

Personally appeared before me William C. Keen, a justice of the peace in and for the county aforesaid, John Cotton, who after being duly Sworn deposeth and Saith that he paid for forty two acres and a half of land off of the within mentioned quarter Section of land as therein Stated and further saith not.

Sworn to and Subscribed before me this 23d day of February AD 1824. William C. Keen

The next paragraph on the same page has lines drawn through it...

The state of Indiana Switzerland county }SS

Personally appeared before me William C. Keen a justice of the peace in and for the county aforesaid, Samuel Bray, who after being duly sworn deposeth and Saith that he paid for the balance of the within quarter section of land as mentioned in the within affidavit of Daniel Bray and further Saith not.

I have copies of the three deed transactions wherein the land in question (actually Section 25 Township 2 Range 4) was transferred in January 1823 to Daniel Bray, John Cotton, and Samuel Bray.

Switzerland County, Indiana Deed Book B p413. January 1, 1823. John and Elizabeth Bray sold to Daniel Bray 60 acres in S25 T2 R4 West for $120. Recorded November 29, 1823.

Switzerland County, Indiana Deed Book C p78-79. January 1, 1823. John Bray and Elizabeth Bray wife of the said John Bray... for the sum of ninety dollars sold to John Cotton forty two and a half acres in S25 T2 R4 West. No date given for when it was recorded. Deed prior to this one was recorded on September 15, 1825.

Switzerland County, Indiana Deed Book D p490-491. January 29, 1823. John Bray and Elizabeth Bray his wife sold to Samuel Bray for $50 Land off the north west Corner of the north East quarter of Section Twenty five Township two and Range four... The number of acres was not given. Date recorded was not given.

Document dated February 23, 1824 from Revolutionary Pension File of John Bray W4145.







Document dated February 23, 1824 from Revolutionary Pension File of John Bray W4145.



Next step? Records of the Land Office at Cincinnati...

Wham Bam Thank You Lamb!

So, did you know that Mary had a little lamb? No, seriously. That there once was an actual girl, named Mary, who kept a diminutive pet sheep? The girl in question(Mary Sawyer, to be precise)lived in Sterling Massachusetts in the 1800s. And according to historical scholars, some time in 1830 she brought her pet lamb to school - an act that caused such mirth among the other children, that a local poet was inspired to immortalise it in verse. On the Sterling Town Green, astatue now standscommemorating the event.



This statue also marks the halfway point and only control stop of theNew England Randonneurs Populaire - a timed 107 km ride that heralds the official start of the local brevet season.



"But at least take a picture next to the Lamb!" someone exclaimed when I mentioned there would be no pictures on this ride. A kindly volunteer did the honors. My few lucid memories of the Populaire revolve around the stone rendering of the famous Victorian pet.



Having already done two "Permanents"earlier this month (this one and this one), I hoped the official Populaire would not be anti-climactic. I needn't have worried.



Some notes, while it's all still fresh and I am too tired to feel self-conscious:



I must remember that rides with similar overall elevation gain can be very different. The climbing on this one was intense and draining, even though the elevation gain (3813ft over 68 miles) was the same as in the previous (easier!) 100Ks I did this year.



But perhaps much of that had to do with howI did this ride. Straight through, minimal stopping, really pushing myself to get it done. Particularly on the return leg, I just basically raced through the course, inasmuch as I am capable of such a thing. I do not know what possessed me to do it this way; I certainly did not have to as there was plenty of time left before the cutoff. But it felt in the spirit of the event: Everyone seemed focused on making good time. I finished well (for me), certainly better than expected. But it was tough. At some point,everything was a blur, attempts at conversations became babbling nonsense.



For some of the time I rode in a group.This proveda novel experience compared to previous group riding.While the group's average speed was similar to my own, their rhythm did not match mine - a situation I found extremely difficult to deal with. I tried a few times to cycle ahead of the group, so as to go at my own pace. This did not work, as they'd always catch me. Falling behind did not work either, as I'd eventually catch up, yet again be unable to pass them. I seemed destined to ride in this group and adapt to its rhythm; it was as if a magnetic field held us together!



The start of the Boston brevets is in a middle-of-nowhere location - an airforce base some distance from my house. By the time I got home, I had ridden 105 miles, and felt every single one of them. A Century is not quite a casual distance for me, yet. This is disappointing.



Because of the Boston Marathon bombings and their aftermath, the Populaire took place one week later than initially planned. The 200K brevet is next Saturday, not leaving much time for further training. Considering how I feel after this ride, I am not sure it is a good idea to embark on the 200K so soon. But I will see how I feel mid-week.



Finally... Despite this depriving me of photo opportunities, it felt good to put in an effort and try to make decent time. By mid day it was all over, and afterward I felt oddly over-emotional. I wasn't happy, or sad, or proud or frustrated exactly. Rather, it was as if so many miles and so much intensity packed in a fairly short time was too much for my system to cope with. But in a good way... I think.



My thanks to the New England Randonneurs for putting on this event, and to the wonderful volunteers who made it happen. I hope to see you again this summer.

Hale Brubaker & Crow's Corner School

Maurice Hale Brubaker (known as Hale) was the youngest son of Malissa Joslin and William Brubaker. He taught at least one term at the Crow's Corner school in Smith Township, Whitley County, Indiana when he was 18 years old. This was still at a time when college degrees were not required for teaching.

Hale's life was cut short when just 6 years later he died of pneumonia while attending Law School at Columbia University in New York. His death had a traumatic affect on the family. It was a shock to his parents but particularly his father who died a little over a year later.

The brief "biography" of Hale was written by his mother: "Hale died in N Y Dec 14 1910 aged 24y 6m & 27da he was in Columbia University a Law Student would have finished in May 1911 he was born in Troy TP Whitley Co graduated in common School when 13 & in high School 17 Taught School in Smith TP. was an active member in the First Baptist church & Sunday School after all God took him called him higher where he is at rest Mother"

I'll be posting more about Hale in the future...

The Pupils listed on the Souvenir tag are:

• Grade VII: Chester McNeal, Thomas Griffith, Etta Rowland, Bessie Gordon, Katie Fulk, Dessie Garrison
• Grade V: Ethel Herron, Jennie Gilbert, Rilla Boggs, Edward Gordon, John Fulk, Charles Gilbert, Jesse Rowland, Earnest McNeal, Herbert McNeal, Cyrus Griffith, Joshua Griffith
• Grade III: Lottie Herron, Virgie Griffith, Frank Garrison, Howard Gilbert
• Grade I: Opal Boggs, Millie Garrison, and a few more that were in the damaged portion

Misadventures on the MUP

Last evening was a low point for me... I yelled at someone on the Minuteman Trail. I was cycling home after a ride, and the trail was more or less empty. I am normally ever-vigilant for dogwalkers and baby carriages suddenly appearing out of nowhere, but this time I had let down my guard. I was going faster than I normally do on the trail, when from around the bend, three cyclists - traveling three abreast and taking up the entire width of the path - came barreling toward me at a similarly unadvisable speed. They were chatting and the cyclist who was headed for a direct collision with me had her face turned toward her friends instead of looking ahead of her. Time froze and I kept expecting that any instant now she'd see me and get out of my line of travel, but she didn't. Not wanting to end up in the bushes or in a pile of bikes and limbs, my mind went blank and I heard myself scream "MOVE!" in a tone of voice that was so menacing that I even scared myself.



It got their attention and a collision was avoided. But as I continued on my way, I heard a distinct "and a nice day to you, too!" from the direction of their receding forms. I felt a wave of shame wash over me. Sure, in a perfect world I would have yelled "excuse me" or "watch out" instead. But I yelled the first thing that popped into my head, and if I didn't we could have both been in the hospital right now.



Multi Use Pathways can be difficult for cyclists precisely because of situations like this. The trails are narrow and those who travel along them do not always behave predictably. Joggers wearing sound-proof earphones, rollerbladers veering from side to side, dogwalkers brandishing those terrifying invisible leashes stretched across the path, unsupervised children making spontaneous U-turns on their tricycles... It's a jungle out there. If I could easily do so, I would avoid MUPs entirely, but the alternative route out of town is 10 miles on a very busy road. So I try to be cautious, stick to a moderate pace and hope for the best. How do you deal with MUPs?

Bicycle Headbadges: Going Custom

A post on ecovelo some months ago noted the increasing scarcity of bicycles that come with headbadges. Alan writes:

"Bicycle head badges are ...slowly being replaced by decals as a cost saving measure. I love head badges and in my opinion any bike without one feels incomplete and cheapened due to its absence. Some are works of art, while others are downright kitschy, but they all speak volumes about the bike on which they’re mounted. Let’s hope they don’t completely disappear in the coming years."

I could not agree more. Both my Pashley Princess and my Rivendell Sam Hillborne frame came with beautiful headbadges, and I knew from the start that I would want one for my custom mixte as well. After looking around a bit, I discovered that Shane of BostonBiker.org is a metal worker and makes splendid bicycle headbadges.

["Getting Schooled" Alleycat Race headbadge, by Shane S. ]

What I like about Shane's work is that it is artisanal: every badge is hand made, which I think is a good match for the "expressionist woodcut" style logo I have chosen. In the course of making arrangements with him to create my headbadge we also discussed the process itself, and I paraphrase it here in case others are curious how this works.

[Boston Tweed Ride headbadge, by Shane S. ]
To order a custom headbadge, the customer needs to decide on three things: image, material and size. If you know exactly what you want your headbadge to look like, it is best to provide the exact image in electronic form. But if you just have a general idea or a theme, Shane can also create the design himself. He begins with a sketch on paper, then transitions to photoshop, resulting in a final image which is then printed out and used as a stencil to create a metal cutout. The headbadge can be flat, or it can have an etched or layered design. The latter can be done on copper, brass, and bronze.

Selecting the material for the headbadge really depends on your preferences. Brass is probably the most typical metal used for headbadges, but Shane also works with steel, aluminum, silver, copper, and bronze. Copper is relatively easy to work with because it is thin, and the green oxidation it produces can make for an interesting effect. Sterling silver (like the headbadge on the left, made for a customer) is a very special choice, but pricey. Steel is durable, but difficult to work with when it comes to fine detail. Once the headbage is completed, the surface is finished according to the customer's request: mirror, matte, or brushed. Each metal and finish has a unique look to it, and you should consider how these will suit the style and colour of your bicycle frame. I will be getting a brass headbadge for my mixte, because it is classic and will complement the "sea-mist" frame colour nicely.

The size of the headbadge is entirely up to the customer. Consider the proportions of your headtube - or measure an existing headbadge that you think is sized just perfectly.


[Cogs for Cans Charity Race headbadge, by Shane S. ]

Once the customer receives the finished headbadge, they (or their bike shop) can use a rawhide mallet to gently bend it to the shape of their head tube. Shane can drill holes in the metal to allow for screws to affix it to the bike. An alternative is to use double sided tape from 3M or epoxy to affix the head badge.

And then of course there is the matter of price. Shane's custom headbadges start at $50. The price depends on the cost of the materials (the choice of metal itself plus its size) and the complexity of the image. I was tempted to ask for a price-quote for a 14K gold headbadge with a photo-realistic rendering of my cats, but held off in case he took me seriously. If you are interested in Shane's work, get in touch via BostonBiker.org's contact page. If you have other headbadge makers to recommend in your area, feel free to chime in.

Braybrooke - Dingley - Brampton Ash - Braybrooke

Just under 8 miles. With Barry, Gordon and Maureen. Quite wet, long spells of persistence, with drier spells at start and finish. Walking through thigh-high fields of beans is a guaranteed recipe to soak trousers. Plenty of stiles, some slippery in the wet.





We left Braybrooke from the road opposite the church. We parked on the grass at side, just by a footpath sign, which takes you over a stile on the left. We crossed the meadow diagonally, disturbing some of the cows which were lying down,to a point where we crossed the railway line. We continued to climb gradually crossing several arable fields, some with corn, and some which had been harvested recently, then more steeply to reach the A6. We had to walk along this road for about half a mile. First we were welcomed by a sign into Leicestershire, the heart of rural England. Soon afterwards we walked along the verge to a lay-by, full of trucks and a snack bar, and the smell of bacon butties.





Shortly after the old Kettering Road from Harborough joins the road from the left, we turned right on another footpath. We followed this down hill and to the right along the side of a hill, just touching the edge of Dingley Warren wood, before making uphill for Dingley Lodge Hotel, on the main Corby-Harborough Road.

Mud sticks to boots

Trust you to take a photograph now!

You can see from the photographs that the view would be pretty good on a clearer day, but those fields were hard work, as our boots grew heavier with every step.





We walked up to the road, and followed it to the right into Dingley. After a short distance we turned left on to a small residential road which leads to Dingley Park. A short way along this we turned right, past some stables and a dressage area, then continued through fields and short paths through hedge boundaries until we crossed a wheat field with a clear wide path, which took us to the Corby- Harborough Road again.





The weather was starting to look even less friendly by now, so we had our snack break, before walking a short distance towards Brampton Ash, and taking a footpath to the right.





So . . . behind the church, and Grange Farm, which now has a picture window extension with views over the valley, and out to the quiet road downhill.

The road turns to the right and a little further on we took a footpath to the left, leading down to farm outbuildings called 'Red Hovel' on the map. A quick google shows that 'hovel' can mean an open outbuilding for storage or for the use of cattle.





Next we climbed up to the ridge, where we turned right aiming for the edge of Hermitage Wood. If there was a hermit, he was keeping himself very much to himself today - well out of the rain, I imagine.







We rejoined the minor road at a settlement called Hermitage Cottages, close to a roundabout on the A6. We followed the footpath (Jurassic Way, Mid-shires Way, and Macmillan Way),through two large fields of wet beans to Braybrooke Lodge - another farm with several horses and foals and a dressage area. Across the minor road, over stiles and underneath the railway line before making our way across the fields and back into Braybrooke, past bumps in the fields which are the remains of a castle, which was built in 1304, was the home of the Latymers and Griffins, but was destroyed by fire in the 1500s.

Braybrooke's Millenium Monument



We learnt something of the history of Braybrooke from the Millenium Monument and the information board near by.

Lockport, New York to Holley, New York

In the Light of Day

The frame I built with Mike Flanigan over the winter has long been completed and powdercoated. I've been staring at it and doing a lot of thinking... which, somehow, hasn't translated into taking any pictures. Before I knew it, a couple of months passed. And now here I am, about to skip town for much of the summer. So before setting off, I took some early morning shots of my so-called creation.






When I look at this frameset and remember all that went into making it, the dominant sensations are those of physical and emotional exhaustion. I was a mediocre student. Making this thing was difficult and I struggled. It was difficult physically: The all-day filing, sanding, and even waving around the heavy torch, was exhausting for someone of my meager upper body strength. But no less difficult was the acute and constant awareness of working on something I was not good at. Of genuinely trying hard and getting at best so-so results, hour after hour and day after day. That was tough to take.






So when I look at the lugwork, rather than admire its beauty I shudder at the memory of what it took to braze the joints correctly and then get the shorelines looking half-decent.






The solidified mess of steel and silver that I gouged away at for hours with a variety of files to define and redefine the outlines. And don't get me started on the fork crown.






Or the seat cluster with its made-from-scratch endcaps on the chainstays.





Brazing these on while taking care not to melt the rest of the joint, then endlessly scraping off the extra filler material in hopes of achieving at least a semblance of symmetry and elegance of form...







The brake bridge, which I had wanted to braze without reinforcer plates...






The bottom bracket, with its myriad of crevices, the tight spaces making it nearly impossible to file without gouging another tube.





The acrid smell of flux. My eyes tearing up. Standing on my feet for hours at a time. The sandpaperlike texture of my fingers. The deep aches in my arms.






In the end, most of it looks more or less all right... except, ironically, for the dropouts. I had spent more time working on these than on any other part of the bike, and they look the worst - the one part of the frame that is glaringly amateur. The transitions are not entirely smooth and the braze on the drivetrain side betrays a couple of surface "pinholes." When pinholes happen in a lugless braze, it can be for several reasons. With small surface ones like mine it is likely mild contamination from burnt flux or metal dust. With some luck, they can be buffed out. Those pinholes kept me awake at night. I filed and buffed until I was sure I'd gotten rid of them - but somehow the powdercoat magnified rather than hid them, along with the not so smooth stay-to-dropout transitions. Naturally, this is the part of the frame I notice and think about the most. It hurts to look, but I keep looking.






I keep looking. And at first, maybe I feel mostly empty, numb, disappointed at my ineptitude. But with time I notice that underneath it there stirs something that almost resembles love. This thing has cut me, burned me, made me angry, made my eyes water, deprived me of sleep, and drained me of energy... What else can I do but love it.

Lake Superior Ice Cubes

I absolutely LOVE abstract Lake Superior ice, and I think this definitely fits that description! I don't know what causes the ice to form in such a way, but this sure is fascinating. Jessica said "it looks like someone dumped their cooler out!" It was this comment that gave me the idea for the image title. This is right along the water's edge of Lake Superior at Hollow Rock Resort in Grand Portage, MN and was taken with my Canon 100-400mm lens.

It was Just a Matter of Time...

On my meandering drive through Ohio back in September .., I stopped at the Strickland Cemetery in Vermillion Township, Ashland County where Jonathan and Elizabeth Hazlett are buried. They may be my 5th great-grandparents. I haven't been able to prove the connection yet but they are really the only candidates that I've found thus far. I'll have more on them in a future post.



A previous visit to the cemetery in October 1999 had resulted in rather poor non-digital photographs of their gravestones, which appeared to be very worn and not very legible. Pouring a little water on the stones brought out the engravings somewhat – enough to verify the transcriptions that had been previously published.



Since I had been to the cemetery before, I knew that their gravestones faced west and timed my visit so that the sun would be in an advantageous position. But I got there a little too soon.





The photo above was taken at 11:39 am. The inscriptions are barely noticeable. The stone on the left is for Elizabeth and the one on the right is for Jonathan. Since time was not an issue, and it was a beautiful day, I walked around the cemetery a bit then fixed a sandwich and had lunch while waiting for the sun to move a little further west.





Taken at 12:15 pm, the inscription on Elizabeth's stone is starting to appear.



I was amazed when, 18 minutes later (at 12:33 pm) the inscriptions were completely visible and could easily be read. All it took was some time and a little patience...





ELIZABETHWife ofJONATHAN HAZLETTDIEDMarch 3, 1848Aged 86 Years



JONATHAN HAZLETTDIEDSept. 16, 1853AGED82 Ys. 1 Mo. 1 D.

Photographs were taken September 18, .. at Strickland Cemetery in Vermillion Township, Ashland County, Ohio.



Did you notice anything unusual with the inscriptions?



Elizabeth appears to have been about nine years older than Jonathan!

Rock Detail - Latourell Falls

Columbia River Gorge, Oregon







I had the urge today to look through some images from the trip out west that I took in and work on a couple of waterfall images from that trip. Latourell Falls was my goal... I had remembered taking some photos of that falls that I really liked but hadn't worked on yet. Of the many waterfalls within the Columbia River Gorge, Latourell is unique among the best-known Columbia gorge waterfalls, in the way that it drops straight down from an overhanging basalt cliff. Most of the falls tumble to some degree, but not Latourell. The thing I found most amazing about this waterfall was the interesting rocks on the cliff face behind the falls.

Thinking About Cities

Though I've lived in many different places over the course of my life, they have been mostly in Europe. Within the US my travels have been limited to the East Coast, and my trip to Las Vegas for Interbike was the first time I'd ventured west of Pennsylvania. Popular culture is saturated with images of Vegas, and I thought I knew pretty well what to expect: casinos, bright lights, neon signs, drunken merrymaking... If in the right kind of mood, I could see the kitsch appeal. But what I did not expect were unfinished construction projects, miles of empty parking lots, and a funny sense of being in the middle of a Broadway production that had its funding cancelled before the set could be completed. Maybe I wasn't supposed to arrive during the daytime (or be awake during daylight at all while there?), but the Vegas I saw looked not unlike the outer boroughs of former Soviet bloc cities, with their faded concrete high-rises and muddy vacant lots.

Equally fascinating was that Las Vegas seemed to be intentionally "anti-pedestrian" in design. I have no background in city planning, so it's hard to explain exactly what I mean. But with the exception of the smallish main strip - which is indeed walkable and feels like Disneyworld on crack - the city is made of these self-contained complexes accessible either by car or Monorail (they really try to push the Monorail, but it was mostly empty every time I used it).

Even in the city center, the roads are multi-lane and highway-like. Sometimes there are sidewalks, but they are lined with tall guard rails and there are no provisions for crossing the street except maybe every mile or so.The hotel I stayed at was technically around the corner from the convention center where Interbike was held, yet it was recommended I take the Monorail to it. Well, one night I had this crazy idea to walk. I could clearly see the hotel right in front of me - how bad could it be? It took about an hour and a half, because there was no way to walk to it in anything resembling a straight line. I had to walk around stadium-sized empty lots surrounded with chainlink fences, and when I tried to take shortcuts through hotels, I was forced to navigate along winding paths designed to maximise my exposure to slot machines. It was surreal. As for riding a bike, I remember someone posting a ridiculous statistic on twitter, claiming that 100% of Las Vegas residents who cycle report being hit by a car at least once. Having now been there, I no longer find it implausible.

While of course I've known that places like Las Vegas exist, I guess I've done my best to avoid them - choosing to live in areas that are walkable, which for me equates with livable. Being faced with the reality of what a city like this is actually like was jarring. I know that places like Boston comprise only a small fraction of the American urban landscape, while a model similar to Las Vegas is more common. I know it, but I try not to think about it, because the realisation fills me with a dread that I don't know how to overcome.

As I write this, I am waiting to board a plane to yet another city: Vienna. Design-wise, it is pretty much the polar opposite of the Las Vegas. And the public transportation and cycling infrastructure putevenBoston to shame. It is fascinating that such contrasts are possible in the way human beings create living spaces. What motivates the various designs? And what to do when the original motive is no longer relevant, or was a mistake, or turns out to be harmful to the population? Huge questions, I know. But sometimes you have to ask.