Assateague Island :: More Wild Ponies

Stopped traffic was a common sight whenever ponies were spotted along the roadside. I wasn't immune to their allure either, almost always stopping when I saw a group. This day I was riding my bicycle out to the bridge, which was a little over 3 miles from my campsite. This is at the intersection to the main road out to the Island.

Bad Hair Pony

Stormy was having a bad hair day. I hadn't groomed him for a few days and he had been rolling in the dirt.

Paradise and a Scarlet Macaw

As hoped, the road to Paradise opened on Sunday. A predictable onslaught of tourists and backcountry skiers (and even a few climbers) overflowed the parking lot and packed the adjacent slopes this weekend. In all, over 975 cars entered the park on Sunday alone, with an average of 3-4 people stowed aboard each vehicle. The result - "Paradise" was crowded. But that was fine, because every soul that I encountered had a huge smile on their face and were immensely thankful to finally see the sun and mountain again. That's what two months of clouds, snow and rain can do to anyone. The News Tribune pumped up the crowd with a lengthy discussion of the re-opening in their Saturday paper. They even took the time to mention my house, which I honestly feared would collapse under the snow-load (BTW, I have since shoveled my roof).

For climbers, there are no summit reports to immediately share. Three hardy souls ventured up the Tahoma Glacier towards Sunset Amphitheater to ski the couloir (seen left). They didn't reach the summit (due to warm temps) but one member (Sky Sjue) shared a sunset image (above) for our pleasure.

Camp Muir is a windblown place where notably less snow has fallen (or stayed). By all reports, the Cowlitz and Nisqually Glaciers are scoured, there are numerous bare rocks at Camp Muir, and the huts are easily accessible. Either it isn't snowing much or the wind is blowing it all off.

I have often noted that Mount Rainier gets its precipitation in 3-4,000 foot bands. What I mean is, there is always snow somewhere. The question is, where does it stick? For now, the snow is sticking between 2,500 feet and 6,500 feet. So the Muir Snowfield is OK, but at Camp Muir and above, the snowpack seems pretty darn thin. This is particularly the case when measured against the snow-loads at Longmire and Paradise.

My good friend Bruce Barcottt has a new book. So what's his connection to Mount Rainier? Bruce wrote Measure of a Mountain, Beauty and Terror on Mount Rainier , a necessary read for Rainier afficionados. He has since leveraged his journalistic talent into a big-shot writing career with Outside, Harpers, Mother Jones, NY Times Magazine and Sports Illustrated. Anyway, his new book The Last Flight of the Macaw was positively reviewed by the New York Times last Sunday. For those in the local Seattle crowd, we are fortunate, because Bruce will have a reading at Elliot Bay Books on Feb. 29th and Third Place Books on March 1st. Check it out.

Things are on the way

Tombstone Tuesday :: Long Family, Salem Cemetery

The Long family plot at Salem Cemetery, Washington Township, Noble County, Indiana.

Emily Eliza Joslin was the daughter of James and Abigail (Goodrich) Joslin. She was a sister to my 3rd great grandfather, Lysander Price Joslin. Emily was married to John Long on October 12, 1854 in Whitley County, Indiana. Her obituary states she was the mother of eight children but I have found record of only four: Edwin Monroe Long (1856-1928), Jennie Candice Long Myers (1863- 1911), Cora Alice Long Burnworth (1866-1926), and Mott R. Long (1866-1950).

JOHN LONG / 1826 - 1900 / EMILY E. LONG / 1837 - 1929

John Long's obituary was published on February 7, 1900 in the Columbia City Commercial, Whitley County, Indiana.

John Long was born in Ross county, Ohio, Nov. 23, 1826, died Jan. 21, 1900, aged 73 years, 1 month and 25 days. He emigrated with his parents to Indiana at the early age of 10 years and remained with them till Oct. 12, 1854, at which time he united in marriage to Emily J. Joslin and moved to the site of his present home soon after. Seven children was the result of this union, three of whom preceded him.

He united with the Freewill Baptist church, of Ormas, Ind., in February 1890, and has always lived in consistent accord with its tenants. As to his Christian character and fortitude no words of praise can pay better tribute than his humble and patient resignation during the past eighteen months of his affliction. Never once complaining or murmuring as to his lot, but only waiting for the summons to come up higher. As evidence of his faith and hope when interrogated as to his future, he smilingly replied that all was bright to him and earnestly requested all to do right and meet him in a better world.

As a neighbor he was ever kind and true to his convictions of justice and right. As a husband and father his past life's devotion demonstrates better than words can tell. In the sacred grief of the friends thus deeply bereft we can but drop the tear of sympathy, and for consolation point me to Him who doeth all things well. Though confronted by sad mementos of the pale horse and its rider that has severed the silver cord and so ruthlessly broken the dearest of earthly ties, it has but strengthened that invisible tie that binds us to the spirit land beyond. Though sorrow chills our souls and the clouds of gloom cling close above our heads while the weary years roll by, we have the cheerful assurance, "there is light beyond the clouds" and every year but narrows the surging tide and brings us closer to a blissful reunion in that haven of peace and rest.

Funeral services were held at the Salem church, Tuesday, Jan. 23, conducted by his former pastor, S. H. Dull, of Hillsdale, Mich., and the remains were interred in the cemetery near the church.

Emily's obituary was published on December 6, 1929 in the Columbia City Post, Whitley County, Indiana

Mrs. Emily Long, 91, passed away at the county hospital near here at 6:30 o'clock Friday morning following an invalidism of several years duration. Mrs. Long had been ill many months following a stroke of paralysis and in recent weeks had contracted a heavy cold which was thought to have hastened her death.

The deceased was born on December 12, 1837 and at the time of her death lacked but six days of being 92 years old. Mrs. Long was well known in the county. Surviving is one son, Mott Long, of Anderson, Ind. The decedent had been a patient at the institution where she died since February 20, 1928. The body has been removed to the Smith funeral home on South Line street.

Mrs. Long was a daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Long [sic] and was born at Columbus, Ohio. When a small child she came with her parents to Lorane. She was married to John Long in 1853. She was the mother of eight [sic] children, seven having preceded her in death. Funeral services will be held at the Smith funeral home Sunday afternoon at 2 o'clock with interment in the Salem cemetery in Noble county.

MYERS / CANDAS J / 1862 - 1911 / FERDINAND / 1857 - 1911
Candas was the daughter of Emily and John and is buried next to her brother Edwin.


FATHER (on top of stone) / E.M. LONG / NOV. 10. 1856 / JULY. 8. 1928

The obituary of Edwin M. Long was published on July 11, 1928 in the Columbia City Post, Whitley County, Indiana.

Edwin M. Long, past 71 years old, a native of Etna township, Whitley county, died Sunday afternoon at 1:05 o'clock at the county farm and asylum after an illness of almost a year due to infirmities of old age. He was confined to his bed for the past seven months.

He was born in Whitley county and was a son of John and Emily Long. His father preceded him in death but his mother makes her home at the county farm. She is past 91 years of age. Mr. Long resided in Whitley county practically all his life except for twenty years when he was a carpenter in Fort Wayne. He returned to Whitley county from Ft. Wayne two years ago.

The deceased was twice married. His first marriage was to Dora Jane Bowlby. Two children were born to this union. Esta, wife of Samuel Swihart, of Fort Wayne, and Coral Haynes, of Kettle Falls, Wash. He was married a second time to Florence Kimes, of Ft. Wayne, who survives. Mrs. Long has been at the county farm for the past several months aiding in caring for her husband. There are two step children surviving this marriage, Ralph Kimes of Ft. Wayne, and Edna Kimes of New York. A brother, Mott Long, resides at Anderson. There are nine grandchildren and three great grandchildren living. Shortly before his death Mr. Long made arrangements to be baptized in the Mennonite church.

Funeral services will be held on Tuesday afternoon at 2 p.m. at the Hood & Smith funeral home in Columbia City. Rev. Benjamin King, of Fort Wayne, will conduct the services and burial will be in Salem cemetery.

Bicycles in Product Branding

Having dabbled in marketing in the past with an emphasis on branding, I am always interested in the associations manufacturers use to add appeal to their products. And of course when bicycles are involved I take notice. Looking at how bikes are presented in product branding, there are multiple themes. For instance here is a cycling cow selling ice cream. It's a cute image but why that specific cute image? Well, let's see... The cow is riding a vintage delivery trike loaded with steel dairy containers. So the idea here is to associate the brand with old fashioned methods of production and distribution. This is echoed by the word "creamery" in the name.





And here the idea of cycling is subtly used to associate the "zero calorie" lemonade with weight loss, while the penny farthing imagery goes nicely with lemonade's old fashioned appeal. There's the "honest" thing as well, which I've noticed in other foods that picture bicycles on the label. Do we associate bicycles with honesty?





Wholesomeness maybe, or nature - suggesting that the food is organic and "honestly" obtained regardless of whether that is so? Could be.





Penny farthings are used as symbols of old timey-ness across product categories. This perfume manufacturer uses it to suggest vintage elegance, congruently with the antique look of the bottle and the distressed label. Curious, I smelled the perfume. Sort of floral and dusty, but not too heavy. I suppose it goes with the vintagey presentation, though personally I associate cycling with fresh air and not perfume.






At the same time, bicycles can just as well be used as symbols of contemporary culture.





I see more and more clothing and accessories where bicycle references serve as shorthand for a "hipster" identity. "This garment is for the cool urbanite who rides bikes, or wishes they did."





The bicycle can also suggest fun, whimsy, levity. Drinking from these cups promises to be fun because of that bicycle imagery. To some extent this might also be behind the increasing popularity of bicycles on alcoholic beverage labels.






Do bank notes qualify as a product? I guess they do. Someone designs them after all, with both function and aesthetics in mind. While in Antrim, I was intrigued to discover there is an antique path racer on the Northern Ireland 10 pound note. I looked it up, and learned it is in honour of John Dunlop, who invented the pneumatic tyre whilst living in Belfast. So here the bicycle is part of a narrative about heritage - with additional implications of self-sufficiency and freedom of travel. More than anything, I find it delightful to know that about a million people in Northern Ireland are walking around with pictures of vintage bicycles in their pockets.






There is always talk among bicycle activists about how to create positive associations with cycling in the public's eye. Meanwhile, other industries harness the already existing positive associations to enhance the appeal of non-bicycle-related products. Interesting how these things connect, overlap and feed off of each other.






I wonder to what extent it is cyclists who find bicycle-branded products appealing because they identify with the bicycle, as opposed to non-cyclists whose imagination is engaged by the mere idea of the bicycle. I suppose it is probably both.

The Round House

It is no small task to describe the entity that is "Camberville" - that serpentine Somerville-Cambridge city line with its mazes of pocket neighbourhoods, unkempt grapevines, mysterious alleys lined with crumpling garages, and grandiose structures tucked away on sleepy side streets. Wandering through a neighbourhood you think you know, it is not unusual to encounter something wholly unexpected - perhaps a sidewalk treehouse, an enchanted forest, a small castle, or a warehouse-sized artisan incubator.






Very possibly I have cycled past the Round House before without taking much notice. The once-grand structure is not difficult to miss, now only a shadow of its former self. A lusciously overgrown garden torn out some years ago, a grass lot and chainlink fence now surround its bare walls, stripped of trim and embellishment. A thicket of condominiums stands in what was once an open space, blocking the house from view in certain directions.






But on this ghostly-quiet afternoon, I noticed it straight away. It was one of those humid days when the air stands still and the scent of flowers is sickly sweet. The weekend's explosion of lilacs was making me lightheaded. I cycled up a steep hill, and as I turned the corner onto a tiny one-way street the house appeared like a hallucination -backlit by the waning sun and tilting slightly to the left.






Stopping to have a look, I was distracted by the prominent signs discouraging trespassing. They struck me as so insincere as to almost be playful.





I was intrigued further by the curious discrepancy between the siding - which appeared newly installed - and the foundation, which seemed on the verge of collapse.






And then there was the bulging wall.






Strange to think that a Victorian-era locksmith is responsible for this cylindrical wonder. Inspired by the idea of octagonal houses floating around at the time, Somerville resident Enoch Robinson decided to take things one step further and build a round house. Constructed in 1856, the 3-story single family residence housed generations of Robinson's family.






It is not clear why the Round House was vacated and stood empty for so long. But by the 1980s it had its windowsand ornamentation removed, had suffered water damage and faced serious structural problems. There was talk of tearing it down, which, predictably, riled up residents who saw it as a landmark of historical value. Thankfully, it never came to that. Several years ago, the house was purchased by a developer with experience in historical preservation. He plans to restore the house and place it on the market as a single family home.






The Round House was created on a whim, to satisfy a personal interest - possibly an obsession, judging by the limited information I found on its creator. Yet by virtue of existing in a publicly visible and visitable space, it is also a communal resource, and will continue to be as ownership changes hands. How will the new residents feel about that, I wondered, eying the awkward battlements that surround the top story. I hope they plant a nice garden. Maybe some lilacs, dogwood and pines, against that stark beige facade.

Reaching for Water

Spending lots of time on the roadbike has improved my speed and endurance more than I ever thought possible. Unfortunately, my bike handling skills are lagging so far behind that the gap is becoming almost comical.

What's causing some frustration at the moment, is that I can't drink water on the bike while in motion. Other cyclists will nonchalantly remove their water bottle from the cage without reducing speed, drink while continuing to cycle as if this were the most natural thing in the world, then replace the bottle in the cage and keep going as if it never happened. For me this maneuver is impossible to execute; I need to stop the bike in order to drink.

Prior to now this was never a problem. For the most part I cycled alone, and if I needed a drink I simply stopped the bike any time I felt like it. And the paceline rides I went on were only 20 miles, plus our stops at intersections were sufficient to sneak a quick guzzle. But now that I am going on longer rides and with groups of people, I am finding it more difficult to manage my water intake. I need to learn to drink without stopping the bike!

It's just so sad, because I've been practicing the water thing since summer, but progressing at a snail's pace. I can now grab the bottle with my left hand, but the bike jerks wildly when I attempt to yank it out of the cage. And if I do pull it out, what on earth will I do with it? Should I need to turn or stop the bike suddenly, will I be able to do it with one hand holding a bottle? Panic! Panic! Swerve! Panic! Yes, I am really that neurotic.

It doesn't help matters that I am extremely resistant to being taught. "No, really! If I could do it, so can you. Look, I'll teach you." Yeah... Suffice to say, I've never met a well-meaning cyclist whom I couldn't frustratewith my inability to learn technique. So, for now I'm stuck drinking water at stops and gazing in awe at those who can drink while cycling. Maybe some day I will read this post and laugh. Till then, I can only resume my snail's progress.

Great day in the woods

After shooting this morning's sunrise on Lake Superior I spent most of the remainder of the day exploring a remote section of Hollow Rock Creek. Hollow Rock Creek has a couple of really cool waterfall areas that are difficult to get to... no trails lead to these areas, so you have to bush-whack your way in and believe me, the going is pretty rough!



Once you get to the waterfall areas, however, the effort is well worth it. The beauty of Hollow Rock Creek is not an "in your face" kind of beauty... its beauty on a smaller scale. You have to look closely to see it, but once you start to look you soon find yourself seeing things you would have otherwise missed. The weather was perfect for this day of exploration along Hollow Rock Creek: overcast skies with very thick cloud cover. The cloud cover makes for a very even, muted sort of light that is conducive to shooting under the forest canopy. Bright sunny days are less desirable when shooting in the deep woods as the rays of sunlight create areas of extreme contrast that are almost impossible to expose correctly in a photographic image.



(Above: "Trapped" - A leaf that was stuck on the bottom of the creek)

Also, once most of the leaves have fallen off the trees, that doesn't mean that you should put your camera away and stop venturing out into the woods. It simply means that you should try looking other places to find your images... namely, along the ground! Its one of life's great pleasures to wander along a little creek like Hollow Rock and look for all these neat little things that catch your eye.



(Above and below: Swirling leaves and foam)





(Below left: Pothole along Hollow Rock Creek)

Terry's Photo Challenge. . .

Terry Thornton has posted a photo of himself in a funny costume and has issued a Photo Challenge to all Genea-Bloggers. My contribution was taken in the spring of 1965, after the final performance of my Junior Class Play - The Many Loves of Dobie Gillis, which was loosely based on the television show of the same name. That's me on the left ;-) portraying Happy Stella Kowalski who was the leader of an all-male band. We had fun. The face of my classmate in the photo has been blocked out, but I'm sure he'd know who it was if he saw the picture.


** Update November 11, ..**
Part of Terry's challenge was to post a costumed photo of yourself as an adult. Now, I realize that a 17 year old High School Junior would not normally be considered an adult. However, I was much older than my years would indicate. I'm much younger now than I was then ;-) there were way too many responsibilities weighing me down back then. If you'd known me then you would also know how "out of character" this was for me. I was extremely shy (still shy but not near as much). I didn't wear makeup (still don't). Participating in the class play was a "defining moment" for me since it was the first time I was recognized for an achievement. It was also the first crack in the wall that I had built around myself.

Los Padres View

Los Padres View, originally uploaded by ParsecTraveller.

A view into Los Padres National Forest and Grass Mountain, seen from Figueroa Mountain. Poppies and goldfields are in the foreground, while vast sheets of lupine carpet the distant hills.

chamonixtopo.com

For those that have been reading C-T, Dave Searle's name should beno surprise. Dave has offered the readers here some great gear reviews, commentary and amazing photos. The masthead photo of Ally on the Eiger is justone example of Dave's photography.



Mid-winter, first day of skiing, Dave broke his leg. He's well on the mend now and suspect he'll be out skiing and climbing literally within weeks now.



But Dave's a talented fellow. He used his time being broken and bent wisely. The end result of his efforts will make anyone's climbing or skiing trip to Chamonix much easier. I've only poked about a tiny bit inside chamonixtopo.com but from what I have seen...I said to myself, "Brilliant! Why didn't I think of that!"







Good effort on Dave's part and amust see, check out the links belowand enjoy!



http://www.chamonixtopo.com/



http://www.facebook.com/pages/ChamonixTopocom/338207752876630?sk=wall

A view

Another nice view from the seating area behind the gift shop

The Tower

The tower of morning glories in my garden, taller than anything, even the bananas. The ladder is shown for scale.























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