The Gift

Twinki was more than willing to unwrap the gift but it was Cassi that preferred to play with the toy mouse.

On The Road Again, Again!

Monday, May 2nd - - After 12 days back home in Indiana, I'm on the move, heading west. I traveled 350 miles today, through Indiana and most of Illinois, and not even one of those miles was on the Interstates!



I think we only had two days of sunshine the entire time I was home, and today was more of the same cloudy, overcast skies. It was raining when I left Columbia City but it quit shortly thereafter. My stopping place for the night was Argyle Lake State Park, about 15 miles southwest of Macomb off of US Route 136 in western Illinois. It was late afternoon, and as so often happens at that time of day, the clouds began to move off and the sun finally made a most-welcome appearance.



After a quick bite to eat, I went for a short walk – on the paved, level road through the campground then down to the lake. Just taking it easy but getting a little exercise to get the old legs moving again. And trying not to do whatever it was that I did before to cause the pain!





Lots of these pretty blue wild-flowers were near the edge of the woods alongside the campground. Each flower in the cluster was about an inch in diameter.







I opted to not attempt these stairs leading down to the lake – they didn't look very sturdy and they were much steeper than they appear.





There was no clear view of the setting sun, which was blocked by the forest on the other side of the meadow.





As the sun set further, the sky filled with color.



A very nice ending, to my first day on the road again, again!

To Know a Mountain

The mountain is impossible to ignore. I see it from my window first thing in the morning and last thing before the light fades - nearly at midnight on a summer's night. I see it when I ride to and from town, and when I ride in loops around the countryside. No matter where I go and what I do, the mountain is always there, an enormous living, breathing thing, looming over the landscape.





At 1,263 feet, Binevenagh (pronounced "be-NEvna") is actually quite small. But it cuts a dashing figure on the Limavady landscape. It stands alone, outlined crisply against the ever-changing sky. Seen from the seashore, it resembles a crumpled old hat (or the snake that ate the elephant drawing from the Little Prince). From other vantage points, a jagged edge protrudes. Steep on all sides, it is topped with a large lumpy plateau, covered with forests and meadows.





Gazing at the mountain everywhere I went, all I could think of was climbing it. I hesitated at first. It felt so special I did not want to rush it. But finally one morning I woke up and knew it was time. The atmosphere was festive.





The road up Binevenagh starts directly from the house. But a friend suggested I take a detour - swinging around the coast, then turning onto another road to give myself a bit of a warmup before the climb. "Even with that frying pan of yours, you'll need it!" He was referring to the 11-36t cassette my bike was decorated with.





The ascent is relatively short and steep: 1,045 feet of climbing over 3.5miles. It is continuous climbing, much of it at a 10%+ grade, the road steepening, letting up, then steepening again. Right off the bat, the pitch was tough. I went at a good rhythm, but after a mile stopped to take a breather at a crossroads. Most of the mountain continued to tower ahead; I had hardly chipped away at it.





But when I turned around, the evidence of the mile I'd already done was in plain sight: A sharp dip, and the hills of Donegal spread out behind a shimmering sliver of water. Still narrow from this vantage point, the Lough Foyle is a saltwater inlet that separates the western part of Northern Ireland from the northwestern tip of the Republic. The border between the two nations is rather picturesque here. Climbing Binevenagh, the view becomes more breathtaking with each push of the pedals. And the sheep become more frequent.





How to describe this climb... The pitch was doable in my low gears. But the continuous steep grade made it tiring. I switched between my 3-4 lowest cogs and stood up occasionally (something I've finally learned to do), and tried not to get overwhelmed. I ignored my legs and focused on the scenery, aiming my eye at the top.As I kept going, the sheep were like loyal spectators. They looked at me with sympathy, understanding, encouragement. I was not miserable on the climb; it was a peaceful and oddly calming experience.






For some time, the sheep were my only company. Until, out of nowhere, a man in blue pulled up next to me. Even as I spotted him in my peripheral vision, I knew he was a Cyclist. Slender and agile, he moved so fluidly, it looked like liquid pouring uphill. Riding next to me, he matched my pace effortlessly as we talked. He lived nearby and loved to train on this mountain. He was an endurance cyclist, and rode in the Race Across America last year. Before we parted ways at the top, he introduced himself: Joe Barr.




I watched him disappear down the other side of the mountain, as beautifully as he climbed. Later I learned he was a retired Irish pro-racer.







The top of Binevenagh... The plateau covers a large area, and the highest point is somewhat uneventful. A painted bridge over a stream, a scraggly meadow with Queen Anne's Lace and buttercups, a forest in the background, and lots of sky with very distant views of water. From here on, there are several options for descending. One starts right away and is fairly steep and twisty, consistently throughout. Another is further down the plateau. It is longer and gentler most of the way, until it ends in a sudden, sharply winding vertical drop to the sea at the very end.






To start with I chose the first descent. The steep, narrow, winding road pushed my comfort zone. I was in control around the bends, but had to work on myself to keep calm. I did breathing exercises to keep from shaking and destabilising the bike. Descending on the left side of the road felt intuitive; my brain had already switched over.





This descent was a heavily shaded one, winding its way through a forest.







But after every bend, a view opened up, each more beautiful than the next. If it is possible to feel both cautious and relaxed at the same time, that is how descending this road felt.






Cars passed me up the road occasionally, the drivers waving, friendly - something I am still getting used to here. Toward the bottom, one driver was trying to communicate something urgently, which I did not understand - until I saw a row of pointy brown ears up ahead. Quickly I stopped, dismounted and clambered up the side of the road to let the herd of cows pass.






The final winding stretch dumped me onto the coastal road unceremoniously.Feeling sad it was over, I repeated the loop, then crawled home, spent and drunk on mountain air.






Several days later, I climbed Binevenagh again to try one of the other descents. The road along the plateau offered wide open views of both the Lough Foyle and the North Atlantic.






I rode through a dreamscape of hot-pink sheep grazing upon neon green grass, as the sun came out over the hills of Donegal.






At the far end of the plateau stood "the boat man," as the locals refer to him. He isManannán mac Lir, a god of the sea - a new statue the local council has erected just in the past week. Facing Magilligan Point (entrance to the Lough Foyle on the Northern Ireland side) - the mythical wood-carved figure spreads his arms over land and water of the bordering nations.






Standing there, I remembered being at Magilligan Point, at the ground level, and looking up at the mountain from there. Some form of symmetry had been achieved.






The descent was long, tame and idyllic, rolling through farmlands. But at the end came the stretch I had been warned about: This section winds tightly, down a steep grade.I was advised to either walk or ride the brakes once I saw the crumbling rocks sign.Over the course of two loops, I tried both methods. Riding slowly with good brakes is actually a bit easier than walking the bike.





After some S-bends, another sharp bend follows before a vertical drop onto the main road across from the water.





The spot is Downhill - defined by the magnificent view of the Mussenden Temple - a round structure at the edge of a cliff, which a nobleman had built for his niece... with whom he may or may not have had an affair with. The niece died before the temple was finished, infusing the story with an extra air of tragic poeticism.






I looked back at the road I had come down. I was not as shaken as I thought I'd be by the descent. But with the rush and the beauty of it over, I felt lost - so much emotion can build up along these stretches, and it has nowhere to go. Maybe that is why the cliffs looked especially beautiful in the evening light. And maybe that is why I put all my remaining energy into the 10 miles home along the flat coastal road. Big ring, small cog, setting sun, burning legs, cold air, sprays of water, and Binevenagh towering over it all. Turning the pedals madly as I raced home, I already longed to be up there again.

Tropical Hibiscus

A hibiscus from Southern California to ward off the winter blues.

Night begins on Mt. Maude

A 60 second exposure of fast-moving clouds at dusk taken on September 2, .

An Oldie but Goody Brompton

Do older Bromptons qualify as "vintage" bikes? With production dating back to the late 1980s, many would consider them too young for that status. But to me, the vintage vs modern distinction is more about a bike's feel than birth year. Vintage bikes just have that that special something that sets them apart from modern ones - even if the looks are similar. In that vein, I would consider the gem of a bike I am riding in Northern Ireland vintage: A first generation Brompton built in 1993,loaned to me by local collector Chris Sharp.Back home I ride a Brompton as well, so in a way it was a seamless transition. All the more reason the differences are so noticeable.





And one major difference is fit. Early Bromptons were a bit less stretched out (shorter "unitube") than the ones in current production. The change was made in 2004, when an extra 20mm were added to the length. For me, this makes the older bike a better fit than my own. Riding it feels like someone has magically shrunk my bike ever so slightly, putting me in a more natural position.





Another difference is the ride quality: The older bike feels "softer." I wonder whether a change to the tubing was made at some point. The wheels or other components could also be responsible for the difference in feel.





Notice, for instance, the bar across the handlebars. These were added to the early Bromptons as stiffeners: The early production bars were too flexible, known to occasionally warp or break.





The fold of the older bike is the same, with the exception that the rear triangle does not lock in place when fully unfolded (the rear frame clip was introduced in 2007). This makes it more difficult to pick up and carry or even move the bike in an unfolded state; the rear starts folding under as soon as it lifts off the ground.





The components are a bit outdated - with bottle generator, not too strong halogen lights, an older drivetrain, and brakes not as grippy as modern ones. But everything functions smoothly and has held up well after two decades of frequent use.






The older drivetrain works excellently and is pretty interesting. The hub is a "Sturmey Archer 5 Star Gear System," controlled via dual shifters. The way this is explained to me, it is actually two hubs in one: a 2-speed, controlled by the left shifter, and a 3-speed, controlled by the right shifter. The resulting gearing is a 5-speed rather than 6, because one gear (neutral) is redundant.






While Brompton did not offer a lowered gearing option in 1993 as it does now, it was possible to achieve this aftermarket by replacing the chainring on the Stronglight crankset, which is what the bike's owner did here. The gear range works nicely on hilly terrain, including on the 10% pitch I encounter on the way home from town.





One surprise to me was that this bike came with a front block: I hadn't realised the first generation Bromptons already had them. The block looks identical to the one on my own bike, so it should be compatible with current production bags and baskets. But the bag on this bike is original.





I have never seen mentions or even pictures of the original front bags before, so I thought this might interest Brompton enthusiasts. Made of a thin lightweight canvas, the bag is about the size of a small rucksack. Zipper closure in the front, with two zip-up pockets in the rear. Blue, with red thread and zippers. Small red logo on the front. Not much structure to it, so there has been some sagging and stretching over the years. But aside from the stuck front zipper, the bag is perfectly intact and functional.





The rear rack is also pretty useful. The integrated bungee cords have remained firm after two decades of use, and hold parcels secure over bumpy roads. I don't have a rear rack on my own bike, but this older one looks the same as the new ones I've seen.





I am staying in a rural area here. When I need to go into town for errands, I get around on the Brompton. It's a 7 mile round trip, with an uphill stretch and a gentle descent in each direction. This bike has been the perfect little vehicle so far: swift, compact and comfortable, with plenty of carry capacity. The handling is pretty much identical to my own Brompton at home, as is the easy ability to throw stuff in the front bag. It's neat how littlethe basic design of the Brompton has changed over the years. Any tweaks along the way have mostly been been improvements, such as component upgrades and stronger hinges. But I must admit, I will miss the way this older Brompton fits me, as well as its "vintagey" ride quality.



Any owners of early Bromptons out there? Curious what you think of them compared to the newer versions.

Update from GRIP

I'm behind with posting but with good reason. Yesterday's classes were Intense. Yes, with a capital "I" and they were also Interesting, Informative and Mentally Exhausting.



I was up late last night (as were most other classmates in the Advanced Research Methods with Tom Jones). In addition to a full day of classes yesterday (please go read Chris Staats' post about yesterday's classes and wish him a belated happy Anniversary while you're there) we had a homework assignment. We had no idea how hard it was going to be, but that look of glee on Dr. Jones' face when he gave us the 8-page handout should have been a clue!



I do enjoy a challenge but this was something else. There were abstracts of 16 tax lists, 3 census records, 12 deeds, 4 wills, 2 guardian records, 2 marriage records, and a Revolutionary War Pension affidavit that we had to review, analyze, and try to determine the father of a man from 5 other men with the same surname!



But before tackling the homework I decided to attend the presentation by Rick Sayre on Pennsylvania Research, which was good but he quite a bit of time on Pittsburgh records. I would have liked to have heard more about statewide records.



After returning from the presentation, I spent 4 hours working on the homework assignment. At that point, I still hadn't reached a conclusion but my head was hurting and my eyes were burning so I turned in for the night. Less than half an hour later an idea popped into my dull brain and I "had" to get up and work on the problem before I lost my train of thought. Yes, the answer had come to me. A short time later I was back in bed sound asleep. I didn't even hear the storm that came through that many were talking about today.



I worked on the problem for another hour (consolidating my thoughts and trying to come up with some idea of how to "defend" my conclusion) before heading off to class. Dr. Jones went through the list of possible fathers, one at a time, asking those who thought it was a particular man to raise their hand. When he got to "William" the hands of about 2/3 of the class shot up. I had a sinking feeling in my stomach since he wasn't my choice! When the name of the one I had chosen came up only 3 of us raised our hands.



A minute or so later, Dr. Jones announced that there were 3 "A" students in the class! I had gotten it right! To say that I was ecstatic is an understatement... So, I'm giving myself a little pat on the back and tooting my own horn a bit too. I must say, it felt awesome.



It's been another full exhausting and enlightening day, and we're almost caught up with the syllabus. Tomorrow is the last day with only half a day of classes. It's been an amazing experience and I am so glad that I was able to come.



I'm sure that Chris will be blogging about today's classes as will classmates Shelley Bishop at A Sense of Family and Christy Webb at the Geeky Texan. Also Denise Levenick, the Family Curator, has also been blogging about the Intermediate class she is taking.



This will likely be the last post from GRIP... I've got to get busy on the homework for tomorrow...