Oh my!

Simply stunning photo from Jon Griffith, again!



Courmayeur in the moonlight



Photo courtesy of Jon Griffith



More here but there is a link on my blog list on the right margin as well.



http://www.alpineexposures.com/blogs/chamonix-conditions/3849152-innominata-ridge-mont-blanc

Tombstone Tuesday :: Malcomson Family

The topic for the premier edition of the Graveyard Rabbits Carnival is "exceptional finds - share with us those rare and unique cemeteries, gravestones, monuments, memorials, inscriptions, etc."

This post is going to do "double duty" by being my "Tombstone Tuesday" post this week as well as my contribution to the Graveyard Rabbits Carnival.

McKay Cemetery in Craig Township, Switzerland County, Indiana is located on Patton Hollow Road approximately one mile North of State Road 56. It is the resting ground for several of my Wiseman and Bray ancestors. While taking pictures there last November, I also took some pictures of some of the more "interesting" stones. As far as I know, the Malcomson family is no relation to me. The monument stands about six feet high and I think it is made of poured concrete. As always, click on the images for a larger version.

Engraving on the South side of the monument:
JOHN S. / DEC. 29, 1842-APR. 24, 1914
EMILY J. HIS WIFE / MAY 10, 1842-JUNE 11, 1919

Engraving on the North side of monument:
(across the top of the scroll) MARY E.
DAUGHTER OF / J.S. & E.J. MALCOMSON /MAR. 28, 1878-SEPT. 3, 1897
DELLA B. SMITH / JAN. 3, 1868-JULY 9, 1902

Seven year old John Malcomson was found in the 1850 census in the household of William and Jennet Malcomson in Craig Township, Switzerland County, Indiana. In 1860 he was 17 years old and listed in the household of Jennet Malcomson. John was 28 years old in 1870 , the head of his household, with real estate valued at $2400 and a personal estate of $2600. Also listed with him in Craig Township was 28 year old Emily, 4 year old Pearly and 2 year old Della.

John and Emily Malcomson were also living in Craig Township in 1880, 1900, and 1910. John's occupation was listed as farmer, and, their children, according to these census records, were Pearlie, Della, William J., Justi T., Mary, Frank B., and Edna G.

Blue Ice Yeti 45 review

Reviewed by Jerry Johnson (one of my very first climbing mates)




Here is what I really like about the Blue Ice Yeti 45 –
throw anything in it and don’t worry about screws poking out or crampons
tearing through. Frankly, I am tired of the ultra light pack I need to watch
around sharp implements, branches during the inevitable bushwhack, or ski
edges. There will no need to constantly
patch this pack with Aqua Seal and a hodgepodge of Cordura scraps.












































Readers of this blog are well acquainted with Blue Ice. They
build a few specialized products for the alpine world. I already use the Boa
leash and the 27 liter Warthog. The Yeti is their solution to the need for a
pack for bigger loads up to overnight. Like
any well designed pack it carries just fine and has the usual features we like.
Two compression straps, a waterproof zipper down the front for quick access to
spare gloves (something I am learning to appreciate with use), and an
adequately padded, and removable, hip belt with a accessory pocket. Most packs nowadays share these and additional
features. The design crew for the Yeti did a couple things with these features
I really appreciate.



The lid is, of course, removable via four Fast Tex style
nylon buckles made by Duraflex. A gripe I always seem to have in these systems
is that the lid doesn’t cinch down as tight over the pack as I would like. Most
of the time when I have a partially loaded pack I just tuck the lid insight and
cinch it shut but, for moderate loads when you use the lid as intended, most
lids fit sloppy at the back, flop around and don’t really seal all that well.
On the Yeti, they sewed the rear lid buckles slightly further down the back so
the lid fits as it should. Mine didn’t come with two zipper slides on the main
pocket but they should in future production runs.





Speaking of strappage. The pack came with two long webbing
straps for attaching crampons or whatever. Many packs have some daisy chained
webbing that works well enough but involve a lot of extra sewing and so
expense. The strap tie on points on the Yeti are stellar. The base is a thin
neoprene impregnated nylon with well formed loops. Threading webbing or a Voile
strap is a no brainer and clearly they are strong enough for haul loops if
needed. Here is a request for Blue Ice – make straps out of the neoprene
material with strong steel buckles. They would replace the old Beck Crampon
Straps we used in the 70’s and still in use as accessory straps today. I’d buy
them. And one other thing – I wish pack manufacturers would sew straps with a
little extra on the ends. I seem to always strain compression straps to their
full extent and a little extra webbing to grab on to would be very cool.





Reflecting the alpine roots, the pack has two small gear
loops on the pack straps. I didn’t like them. They make the pack harder to get
in and out of and I don’t quite see the point. I sometimes climb with a bandoleer
system but these just seem to get in the way and make rack changeovers just
that much more complicated. Others may feel differently and should give them a
go. There are gear loops inside the pack but again, I don’t see the need. I
hadn’t owned a pack with the new school axe system and was skeptical but they
work well with my Quarks – easy off/easy on.
Frame is a plastic sheet with two metal stays. I recently
swapped it out for a piece of foam and it seems to work just as well, offers a
bivi pad, and saves a few ounces. Again, it likely comes down to a personal
preference or need.




Blue Ice gear is bomber – really well sewn and finished. My
only real gripe is that the black color makes it hard to see in the pack in dim
light. Not a deal breaker by any means.

Sunset Arch

When we were done hiking Coyote Gulch we headed for our next planned adventure of the day, which was a sunset hike to Sunset Arch! We had read about and seen photos of Sunset Arch in the guide book that we had and knew it was something we didn't want to miss. The hike was described as easy but without any marked trail so we were hoping this would mean we might have it to ourselves. Sure enough, we did! We ended up not see a single other soul in our time to and fromthe arch. It was wonderful!


As we left the Dry Fork of Coyote Gulch trailhead we turned left and continued down Hole in the Rock road until we reached 40 Mile Ridge Road, then we followed this road about 4 miles to a marked trailhead on the left. This trailhead was for a different hike, and our book recommended hiking from there to Sunset Arch, which was in the opposite direction from the trailhead. We instead opted to backtrack along 40 Mile Ridge Road to a spot we had seen on the way in that looked like it would make a good campsite (you can camp pretty much anywhere as long as it is an area that has already been disturbed by humans). We found our spot and it was indeed a terrific place to camp. After setting up our camp and relaxing for a few minutes we got our gear ready, plugged the coordinates for the arch into our GPS unit (the coordinates were provided in our guide book), and off we went across the open desert right from our campsite.







We couldn't see the arch from our campsite, but we knew which way to go thanks to the GPS. After walking about 3/4 of a mile across the desert we got our first glimpse of the arch, still over a quarter of a mile away. It was fascinating to see from a distance, and we wondered just how big it would be once we got up close to it. We kept walking towards the arch and reached the base of it a few minutes later, 1.15 miles from our campsite. Indeed, it was much bigger than we thought it would be when viewing it from a quarter mile away! The arch was mind-boggling, just standing there all by itself surrounded by nothing but relatively flat desert. We spent about an hour admiring and photographing the arch, then just after sunset we headed back to our campsite, arriving just as it was starting to get really dark. Jessica prepared a delicious meal over the camp stove then we washed up and crawled into the tent to get some much-needed rest before the next adventure which awaited us the following morning: Willow Gulch and Broken Bow Arch!

DROVES Diaries I: Que Sera Sera

One of these does not belong...



That thought runs through my mind as I look at the others, scattered around the rustic living room, drinking wine and beer by the dim cabin light. Outside it is pitch black, and alarmingly noisy - the sound of heavy rain hitting the metal roof. The forecast says it will be the same over the next three days: The storm is circling in place, "tornado-like." No one talks about this out loud.



We are in Vermont for Memorial Day weekend. The group includes the Ride Studio Cafe endurance team (Matt Roy, David Wilcox and John Bayley), cyclocross racer Mo Bruno Roy, Dominique and Christine - two French Canadian women who specialise in hill climb races, randonneuring superstars Jake Kassen and Emily O'Brien, 1200K legend Ted Lapinski, and of coursePamela Blalock. A couple of others cancelled due to weather.





DROVES stands for Dirt Roads Of Vermont Epic Sojourn - an eventhosted by the Blayleys,now in its fourth year. They rent a cabin near Burke, VT and invite friends for 3 days of riding beautiful, steep dirt roads. For some DROVES is a training camp before the string of summer's competitive events. For others it is a mini-vacation. As for me, I had no expectations. I could use a weekend away, that's all. When I asked Pamela if she thought I could handle the routes, I got the honest answer "I don't know" - followed up with "...but you're welcome to find out!" So I tagged along, bringing the bike "with the lowest gears" per Pamela's emphatic advice.



As the weekend approached, it became obvious that the forecast was dire. Not just a regular sort of dire, but exceptionally, obscenely, laughably dire: temperatures in the 40s and heavy rain for the entire weekend. Following the weather with morbid curiosity, I packed my winter gear.





Earlier in the afternoon...



I wait for John and Pamela on the curb outside my house. Bags in one hand, front fender in the other, bike propped up against the fence. It is a humid 70° in Somerville, the kind that makes it feel like 90°. Sweat trickles down my forehead. Finally the black Honda Fit approaches. Like a 4-year old, I jump up and down with anticipation as it rolls down the street, almost in slow motion, a tandem perched upon its roof majestically, along with a cluster of other bikes in various states of assembly. The neighbours line up to watch. Whatever is happening here, it looks important. By the time my bike is hoisted onto the roof rack, we are all drenched in sweat.



An hour into the drive, we stop for fuel and feel a drastic temperature drop. Half hour later, the skies opened up. We continue north, under increasingly heavy rain and a blanket of black clouds. Pamela drives. John entertains us with stories of cycling in Ireland and his early custom bikes. Studiously we ignore the topic of weather. In the distance I begin to see hints of mountains, shrouded in thick fog. The view looks like lumpy pea soup.



We turn onto the private dirt road not long after 7pm, but it might as well be midnight. I can vaguely see the outlines of a cabin, a tractor, and a pile of logs in a field. Everything else fades to black. Running from the car to the front porch, my teeth chatter. It is freezing. There is non-stop thunder.





But inside is a different world...



As I crack open the door, I am overwhelmed by the burst of orange - the interior is all wooden planks and beams, aglow from the light of many small lamps. An electric heater is blasting. There are couches and quilts and a heavy large table and a cozy kitchenette. A winding staircase leads upstairs.



A tall man rises from the couch, who I learn is Ted. He reminds me of someone, but not, as the other ladies start to tell him, of "that actor from The English Patient." Ted is quiet, but with a heavy, deliberate presence to him, like one of those salt of the earth male Twin Peaks characters. Within moments he and John Bayley remove all the bikes from the car roof and bring them indoors in one fell swoop. Then they shake hands and open some beers.





By the kitchen counter, two exquisitely fit women -Christine and Dominique - are opening a bottle of wine. "Ah Pamela!" they exclaim, with that charming Quebec intonation that stresses the last syllable in every sentence. Later they ask where I'm from. I am the new kid here, the object of curiosity, and a little out of my element. But at that point we have all had a drink and the story of my origins makes more sense than usually. Mo Bruno-Roy relates to my mess of an accent. She herself can sound Canadian prairie one minute, Nawth Shoah the next. She demonstrates back and forth for our amusement.



David Wilcox is keeping busy in the background. Minutes later he produces a tray of steamed potatoes and asparagus from the oven. The room is warm, garlicky. More wine is opened. No one talks about bikes, or the weather.





The bikes are everywhere though; everyone seems to have brought at least one. Soon Jake and Emily arrive and bring more. My bike is propped against the side of the staircase. I park myself on the rug beside it to re-attach the front fender. "Look, she is eager to ride!" someone teases me.



The evening is warm and familiar and endless. With a cup of tea, I sit across the couch from the Canadian hill climbers. Dominique is a brunette with a serene facial expression. Christine is blond and animated. They are about the same height. There is a ying-yang symmetry to them that is mesmerising. "Why do you climb Mt. Washington?" I ask, innocent that I am. Taking turns, they recount the history of them doing the race, which includes the story of how they met Pamela. But they don't say what compels them to do it.





This is the most relaxed evening I've had in ages...





Just when it seems to be nearing bed time, Matt Roy arrives, dripping wet. He is carrying boxes of components, a bag of tools and a work stand. The RSC Endurance Team has recently snagged a sponsorship deal (Seven Cycles, SRAM, Rapha, Zipp and Clement), which would equip the three riders with bikes for long distance mixed terrain racing. John Bayley's frame had just been welded earlier in the day. They'd dragged it up to Vermont and now planned to build it up.



At around 10pm, they set up the stand in the kitchen.I make endless cups of tea and look on with fascination. An eccentric bottom bracket. Road levers for hydraulic disc brakes. 700X40mm tires. Everyone gathers to watch and ask questions, drunk on the exoticism of the strange machine.



The rain beats against the metal roof like a chorus of tribal drums. I resist imagining the condition of the dirt roads. But then no one seems intent on forcing me to ride. Not only that, but by the group's demeanor it isn't clear whether they plan to ride themselves. Perhaps there is an unspoken agreement to write the weekend off and spend it indoors - drinking, catching up with friends and building bikes? It does not feel right to ask.



Finally I see Pamela at the far end of the room, producing her laptop and GPS unit. I walk over, and, feeling as if I'm vocalising the unspeakable, ask whether she plans to ride tomorrow. She says "Let's play it by ear and see how it goes?" - a stunning pronouncement coming from her. She shows me the updated forecast, which now threatens temperatures in the 30s, floods, and - my eyes can hardly believe it - chances of snow.





The original plan had been to set off at 8am and ride either a 90 mile or a 60 mile loop. The new plan is to sleep in and see what the road conditions are, come mid-morning. Walking upstairs, I can hear the clinks of wine glasses below, complemented by rolls of thunder and the sound of rain outside.

Group of Yuccas

Eye Eye Skipper

Small Skipper

I did not expect to see any butterflies this morning what with the weather being overcast with dark clouds. I just managed to take a few shots of this Small Skipper and a couple of others. Also out and about Buzzards soaring high, Swallows,Whitethroats, Goldfinch and a very brief climps of a Green Woodpecker. Not a bad morning at all.

Grand Canyon :: Sunset at Yaki Point

We had been told that Yaki Point, on the southeast side of the Grand Canyon, was a good spot for viewing the setting sun, so on Thursday evening (April 15th) we caught the shuttle bus and headed that way.

We arrived almost too late, the “color” was disappearing rapidly in the Canyon. This view is looking northeast from Yaki Point.

This shot and the next one were taken about five minutes after the first photo, still looking to the northeast.


Quickly returning to the west side of Yaki Point, I was just in time to catch the sun dipping beneath the horizon. The swirling clouds and dramatic colors show up beautifully when using the 7x zoom!

Other spectators were also photographing and enjoying the sunset.

This is one of my favorite photos. Not just because of the fantastic color (due to the clouds and pollution) but because you can also see multiple ridge lines – to me it “says” Grand Canyon. (Note: Well, you may or may not be able to see the multiple ridge lines... I could see them fine on the image on my laptop but not after uploading the image to blogger. Bummer.)

Saving With An Electric Range

This Pepco ad featuring my mother appeared in 1950 in the Washington Post.

Cherry Tree

The cherry tree si on the left. The deer come here to eat grass.

I'm going to Jackson

Sandra and I took this last weekend to visit the most beautiful and soul nourishing Jackson Cafe & Gallery in Melbourne. That's all we did. We went to Melbourne and went to a cafe.




Some of you know my amazing brother Peter O'Brien. Artist, thinker, writer, adventurer.

He has opened the Jackson Cafe & Gallery at 412 Rathdown Street Nth. Carlton.






The opening exhibition is by Peter, himself. Seven rooms of subversion, dreams and poetry.














A science researcher from the nearby University of Melbourne keeps the conversation elevated.












"Ethical Pickles" are stacked for sale on the table. I know some people would fly further than Melbourne to get a jar of these fiery Eggplant Pickles.













At the heart of the cafe is the organic, fair trade Segafredo coffee.











Annie and Peter



So much stainless in the kitchen.










Sandra












I drank four cups of coffee in a day. A personal best. Nothing bad happened. Good to know.









The music: you'll hear up to the minute local Melbourne funk and jazz musicians who drop in for coffee and check on their CD sales. Next minute you'll be drifting away through the years with the poetry of Bob Dylan and Cohen.














We stayed at Peter and Annie's place in carlton Nth.








But we did go outside. Sandra has just turned 55 and is looking fabulous, so I took a moment off from drinking coffee to capture her urban style.























Back to the warmth and the papers.







Two days of art, science and coffee. Time to go.



Sandra booked a Getz for us. Avis gave us a Holden Supercar, racing pack and all.

Climbers, you know I drive like a pensioner but pulling out into Lygon Street, across the tram tracks, in the high competition evening traffic, on a mission to the airport, we put it to use.






Peter revives the form, poetry and hand drawing.



Our dear old friend Kevin. He is dedicated to crafts of ancient cultures. Vikings, Celts.





Life long friend Janet wears a celtic knot in copper, by Kevin.



Sandra prepares the Red Phoenix Emporium capsule collection as passersby look in.



Interesting small rooms upstairs boldly exhibit art.



The schoolroom, for meetings














No wifi. So why don't you just tell me what you had for lunch?



Fall deeply into the art that surrounds you.









Oil and oil paint on canvas.














Annie. Annie's coral bicycle.


The rooms are beautiful and surprising, a hidden staircase, an unexpected light well.










Home made vegetable soup with turkish bread, coffee, fire.



The Red Phoenix Emporium capsule collection.







Peter can justifiably look satisfied. He has achieved a beautiful, intelligent atmosphere that I know will be loved by artists, coffee seekers and conversationalists. Thank you Peter.