Happy 100th Anniversary Split Rock!

To celebrate the 100th Anniversary of Split Rock Lighthouse, the light was lit and fireworks were launched over the lighthouse on the evening of July 31st, . Several hundred people were in attendance, including a LOT of photographers! It was a special evening, and a rare treat indeed to see fireworks launched over the light.

Eagle

This is the sculpture of the bald eagle.

Balance - rest - mindfulness. And a competition.

Climbers I have just returned from a family holiday in Bali. Again. And I'm not entirely happy about it. Returning that is.However,while I was there I dropped in to Ubud Adventure, across the road from my sumptuous accommodation at De Ubud Villas. More on that later.There's no rock climbing to speak of in Bali, but the trekking is absolutely spectacular. So you'll need gear.



Win this T-Shirt from Ubud Adventure.

Just become a follower of jjobrienclimbing, leave a comment on this post, and check your letter box for your new T-Shirt.

First, you need a google account to become a follower.

Then scroll down the right side of this page to where it says "Follow" and join. Easy.

The rules:

The winning comment will make me laugh, impress me, or make me weak with pity. Or all three.

Your chances of winning are good.

I've only got 10 google followers and at least half of them don't want a T-Shirt. I'll give you a week, or so.



Ubud Adventure stockthe Indonesian Consina range of gear.

Packs, T-Shirts (like the one above), clothes, tents.













Madé and Sudantilook after the store.

They are so delightful.

If I had a shop I'd poach them.











Sudanti with the range of packs.Hundreds of them.Cheap.













Look for the big sign down the end of Hanoman st.where it swings in toward the Monkey Forest.

Ah, back to the Villa.

I think Willow sums up the mood of the holiday here, relaxing in the poolside balé.Sandra and Lotus at one of our fav restaurants, Casa Luna.







The extended fam. On the walk from Bentuyung to Ubud.







10 days. No climbing.Just cafes.Attending the Legong dancing at the palace, three times, I love it.Hanging with the family.











Q. Did you visit any agricultural areas during your visit?A. Um.....No?Q. Are you bringing in any more than $10,000.00 in cash?A. Are you kidding, have you seen how my family can shop?





We did a photo shoot for the Red Phoenix range of Jewellery and clothing while we were at the Villa.

Willow wearing "Black Jewels" necklace from the Red Phoenix range.

Lotus wears the "Batik Bella" shift and "Limoncello" necklace both from the Red Phoenix,Dolce Vita collection available from The TribuneLocation: Ku De Ta, Seminyak, Bali.

Climbers, I'll come clean. I didn't climb Agung this time, but here's a couple of shots from my last climb a year ago.

Mt. Agung - 10,300 ft or there abouts. It's steep, high, freezing cold, it smolders with sulphurand probably my very favourite place.

I've walked along this ridge a few times over the years. The path from Bentuyung, down to Ubud, through padi, deep dark gorges on either side.

I have often stopped and wondered how thevillage priestsdecide where to place the small shines that can be seen everywhere. Shrines to Dewi Sri, Goddess of the rice. I know the placement is important, but what is it about a particular place that makes it important?

Back at my forest home in Australia, one night, I dreamt that I could see the subtle energy that gives power to place. It was so effortless and obvious.

I felt fresh and strong. It reminds me to stay aware of subtlety as I hammer my way through the day.

Forbidden ..

Part III
"More To Go"

It was already lighter when we arrived at the notch. We watched headlamps from a party at the lower basin camp start up to Sahale or Sharkfin. (We never did see where they went.) We wondered if they had noticed our lights on the ridge and what they thought was going on.

Then Steve set about making himself comfortable and took a snooze. I was too uncomfortable to sleep at first and after jostling about in different positions finally took a nap. Steve said I even snored. I awoke a half hour later.

Nap time (photo by Steve Machuga)

Then we watched the sky turn beautiful colors as the sun rose. I ate a bag of dried fruit and nuts and Steve had a few granola bars. We weren't quite ready to get moving, so we lounged until the sun hit a feature we were calling "The Scottish Arete."

Having gotten some rest, we headed out slowly and methodically back down to camp. In our tired condition, we knew there would be a few cruxes on the way to camp. The first was getting around the chock stone at the top of the gully. This proved to be no issue and we were now making our way down the slabs and loose rock. We reached the bottom of the gully and got on the snow. Steve felt comfortable with a standing glissade. I put crampons on and walked quickly down the snow. (I just wasn't feeling confident in the boots I had chosen.)

We got back onto rock in the lower gully and navigated our way down to the next crux. On the way up we made an uncomfortable step onto the slab from a snow lip on the lower snowfield. I was sure there was no way to make this step after the previous day's melting. That would mean we would have a choice of climbing down either of two short waterfalls. When we arrived, Steve probed it out and made a step onto a lower portion of the final slab before making the big step out onto the snow. It didn't look that safe to me so I hesitated before finally making a large gentle step onto the snow. We crossed that short bit of snow and then gained the slabs again before jumping back onto snow down to camp.

Once in camp we quickly went about filtering water to drink. It was nice and cold snow melt and I drank enough to give me brain freeze. We lounged again at the stream dipping our feet in the water and dreading the coming hike out. After a while we made our way back to the tent to pack up and head out.

The flies were horrible at the tent and it made packing difficult. In my already weakened mental state the flies were the final straw. I was running about trying to kill any that came near me. It was an ordeal. We packed as quickly as possible and hoped that once we left the camp area we would be rid of the pesky insects.

Our hope faded as we had to negotiate a grassy moraine littered with Marmot dens and scat. The flies were even worse. There were brief moments hiking down the basin where there was a faint wind or even cooler temps and seemingly no flies. Then we would encounter another area, like the lower stream crossings and be swarmed again.

Once through the stream crossings we made it to the woods and through the avalanche debris fields. Constantly in and out of swarms of flies. At one point during the heaviest bushwhack area of the trail the flies were so thick I looked like Pig Pen from Peanuts with the swarm around me. Steve said he could see dozens landing all over his clothes. When we escaped that area, I told Steve I was close to a nervous breakdown. He said that me running down the trail screaming "Cannot stop! Must keep moving!" was a sign of a partial breakdown. I agreed and knew that the worst was behind us.

About 20 minutes later we were back at the car. We found a note from the rangers on the windshield stating "Steve and Gilbert: Your party has been reported passed due. Please check into the ranger station when you receive this note. A search party is being sent." We packed the car quickly and drank some more water before heading out.

The drive on Cascade River Road always seems longer than it should be. I understand that it is a 23 mile mostly dirt road with a 35mph speed limit, but it just seems to go on forever. Once out, we made right for the ranger station and reported in. We were told someone was just sent out to look for us and we presumed it was the ranger truck heading up the road as we came out. After leaving the ranger station we called our contacts to let them know we were alright. Apparently the rangers had gotten to that first in some cases. Then it was time for the long drive home.

This was another exciting experience in the mountains and was a good learning experience.

I think both Steve and I learned some lessons this weekend:

One of which is that the two of us actually get tired. (Which may be hard for others to believe.) I think if we had not done South Early Winter Spire on Saturday, the Forbidden trip would have played out completely different. We would have been fresh and moving faster without all the lethargic delays. I cannot say for sure this would have kept us on route during the climbing, but it probably would of had us moving faster on route, as well as the approach. It may also have made us more at ease with the rock quality and exposure.

Another lesson has to do with emergency contacts and when to call in a passed due. This was partially a flub because we had changed our plans a few times, so it wasn't exactly set in stone when we left Edmonds. That caused the timing to be off, and created a panic regarding our return time. In retrospect, it appears that Steve and I may not have even been on the same page regarding when authorities should be contacted. While Steve and I had no idea that a rescue was initiated, this incident has made me strongly consider the use of a Spot.

A funny thing about the "rescue" was that when we arrived at the ranger station the ranger behind the desk said they could have initiated the search earlier if we had used the climbing register. (We had neglected to, probably due to our fluid plans.) I thought at the time this was funny as I didn't even think the rescue needed to be initiated at all and that starting it earlier was a waste of time and resources.

The route itself was interesting. I don't know if I'd recommend it, as I was not a big fan of the rock quality. (Well, at least the quality of the protection.) It is also the sort of route people seek for the exposure, which is not a reason I usually seek out routes. There were only a few memorable climbing segments on the route, so it is also not a route to seek out if you want to get into some climbing. However, the setting is hard to beat with numerous 8000' peaks nearby and many small and a few large glaciers tucked here and there. I'd have to admit to loving downclimbing the ridge in the dark as well. It is truly spectacular to be on a beautiful mountain like Forbidden and watch the sun set, the stars rise, and eventually give way to the sun again. It was something we obviously didn't plan to do, but the trip was enriched because of it. It was a wonderful experience that I shall never forget.

I think I learned a few things about my ability to stay alert and focused after being up all of the night. (Partial thanks to Powerbar Gel with Caffeine.) I'll probably always look back on this trip fondly even though the result was not what Steve and I were looking for.

And Steve and I still have not done the West Ridge, so perhaps we'll have to go back for that and see if it lives up to the popularity.

Once again, pics are here.

Tern Swoop: a Commute-Ready Folder

While we are on the subject of small wheel bicycles, I wanted to share my impressions of the Tern Swoop, which is due to hit bike stores in the US any day now. I test rode the Swoop at the Interbike Outdoor Demo earlier this year. This was the first Tern bicycle I've tried.






Tern is a Taiwanese manufacturer of folding bikes, whose launch was filled with drama. The company is owned by the son and wife of the owner of Dahon. When they left Dahon to set up Tern, the feud and back-and-forth lawsuits that followed fed the industry rumor millfor some time. But it seems that Tern is here to stay. Their initial models were met with positive reviews. Now in their second year of production, they've expanded their lineup, and that is how I encountered the Swoop.






The Tern Swoop is an ultra low step-over model, optimised for commuting in comfort. Specs include an aluminum frame, hi-ten steel fork, 20" wheels with fat tires, v-brakes, racks and lighting, and a quick and easy fold. The bike I rode was the Di7 model, which features a Shimano Nexus 7-speed hub. There is also a SRAM 2-speed Duo model.






The Swoop is a commuter-ready bike. The low stepover makes it easy to mount and dismount for everyone. The fenders and chainguard will keep clothing clean. The wide tires (Schwalbe Big Apples) make for a cushy ride. The generously sized rear rack and built-in cords allow for easy transport of luggage. In addition to the rear rack, there is a luggage socket into which a klick-fix adapter can be installed. This system works with a variety of front bags and baskets.






The bike also comes equipped with dynamo lighting, powered by the BioLogic Joule 3 generator hub. This hub has an on/off switch on the side, which is said to eliminate drag ("...in the 'off' position, the magnets are pulled away from the core of the hub").






The Swoop's positioning is relaxed and upright, with the flat, ever-so-slightly curved back handlebars set quite high for all but the tallest riders.






I rode the Swoop around the Outdoor Demo loop a few times, as well as on dirt for a bit. In total this amounted to 2-3 miles, including some uphill stretches. The bike felt comfortable and relaxed, not unlike a full sized European city bike. The fat tires drowned out bumps very nicely. Unlike some of the other non-Brompton folding bikes I've tried, the Tern Swoop felt pleasantly un-flimsy. I did not sense any play in the fold joints, nor did I feel flex in the frame while cycling. The ride quality was stable and novice-friendly. The bike cannot be called sporty exactly, but it rode faster than its looks suggest, and the gearing was low enough to make the uphill stretches painless, as well as to handle more serious inclines if need be.




As far as comparing it to my Brompton, the Swoop is a more relaxed and upright bike. It rode a bit slower, and somewhat less maneuverably. Without a front load, the steering felt considerably more "normal" than Brompton's distinct (some say "twitchy") steering.




One thing I should note, is that visually the Tern Swoop resembles the Dahon Ciao, which I have not tried. Tern's claim is that the Swoop is a stiffer ride, eliminating flex in the frame, folding joint, and "handlepost." Among other differences is the Swoop's carry handle, and slightly faster fold.






Tern representative Eric Mah demonstrated the fold for the camera, and I also tried it myself. The process is similar to Brompton's, so it felt familiar and intuitive.






The folded size, however, is considerably larger than Brompton's (Brompton: 23" x 22.2" x 10.6"; Tern Swoop: 31.1" x 28.3"x 15"). At over 30lb, the Swoop is also noticeably heavier than a similarly equipped all-steel Brompton (which, according to the CleverCycles configurator, would come in at 26lb, including dynamo lighting and rear carrier). As the Brompton is already borderline for my being able to carry it comfortably for longer than a minute at a time; I would struggle trying to do so with the larger and heavier Tern. That said, Terns are still among the most compact and lightest folding bikes.






The announced retail price for the Swoop is in the $900-$1,150 range, including the rear rack and lighting. The solid build, stable ride, ultra low stepover, commuter-ready features, and easy foldability make it worth considering for those seeking a compact urban transport bike. Overall, the Swoop seems to be a good value. I am curious to see how it will be received once it hits the bike shops.

Mystery Photo #4

This is the third in a series of unidentified photographs from the Charles Wiseman Family Bible. See this post for background information. Click on the "Mystery Photo" label at the bottom of the post to see all of the photographs in this series.

Paper Photograph on card stock 2 ½ x 4 ¼" Somewhat faded. Is the photographer J. R. Gocgas? Taken in Madison, Indiana. ** Update **footnoteMaven identified the photographer as J. R. Gorgas. Apple found this page on J.R. (first name Joseph or John) at Craig's Daguerreian Registry of American Photographers 1839-1860, which appears to be a good resource. Much Thanks to both fM and Apple!!

Wedding Day!

Jessica and I got married today! We had a beautiful ceremony filled with friends, family and love. It really was a perfect day. We'd like to extend our thanks to all those that helped make this day perfectfor us. We appreciate and love you all!



Special thanks to Timothy Young for officiating, Staci Drouillard for the incredible cake and our friend Paul for taking beautiful photos throughout the day! And a very special thanks to Carah Thomas, Rod Dockan and Al Oikari of Cook County's Most Wanted for providing the awesome music for our ceremony. You guys were incredible and we totally loved the "Joy of My Life" song... you guys are the best! Thank You :-)

Mt. Hood

Mike and Dennis starting up Mt. Hood going by the jumps at Timberline.






Our campsite and an awesome sunset behind Illumination Rock.
Dozens of climbers on the Hogsback and others traversing to the Old Crater Variation. There was a lot of falling ice on the mountain this weekend. Two climbers were seriously injured and many others had minor injuries. Dennis and I made it part way up the Hogsback when we saw a guy with a bloody face. He had been hit by ice. There was a definite need for speed if we were going to cross the shooting gallery. Dennis and a lot of other climbers called it good at the Hogsback. As I reached the traverse, I decided that I did not want to be trapped behind a bunch of slow moving climbers, so I opted for the Pearly Gates instead.
The Pearly Gates were not being used very much due to their steep, icy condition. I figured it was safer than spending 30 minutes in a shooting gallery. Everything went well until I stopped to take some pictures. Wouldn't you know it, I got smacked in the knee with a chunk of ice while I was taking pictures! I knew better.
I topped out, took some pictures and then turned to head down with the crowds. I discovered that while I was on the top, a guy had fallen off the traverse and tumbled 500'. He was seriously injured and had to be hauled off the mountain. Dennis had already broke camp and we had a nice descent in perfect snow.

Just One More Iris Photograph

I promise, this will be the last Iris picture posted this year! It's such an unusual color, least one I've never seen before. These are hybrids that we bought a couple of years ago that I brought with me when the house was sold. They didn't bloom last year but according to my mother that's normal as they don't usually bloom the year they are planted. This is the only one that is this color, all the others are the light blue/pale purple color.

Spectator Sport

"So I hear you are into cyclocross," said Martina from Clever Cycles as we chatted on the second day of Interbike. I responded with genuine amazement. "Me, into cyclocross? What makes you say that?" And then I remembered that I'd spent the previous evening live-posting a continuous stream of blurry snapshots from Cross Vegas - "the biggest cyclocross race in America." I gave up two other industry events to attend this thing. I guess it did seem like I was pretty into it! But as I was quick to explain, I am only interested in watching, not racing. In fact, of all the forms of cycling out there, cyclocross is the one I am least likely to actually take part in (it combines every aspect of cycling I am terrible at!). Moreover, I had never before been able to tolerate - let alone enjoy - watching sports of any kind. So what makes cyclocross so appealing?






As it happens, Molly Hurford has just written a book that seeks to answer that very question. It's called Mud, Snow, and Cyclocross: How Cross Took Over US Cycling. Having borrowed a copy from the Ride Studio Cafe library, I finished it just days before Interbike. Aside from providing historical context, Hurford's book helped me make sense of my own feelings toward this bizarre sport. As race promoters all over the country have discovered, cyclocross is in many ways the perfect spectator event. And so I thought it might be interesting to describe it from the point of view of someone who is purely a spectator - and a fairly clueless one at that.






To do this, I will backtrack to last year's Interbike, where it all started. I had zero interest in attending Cross Vegas, but tagged along with Chris Kostman, who insisted I should at least stop by ("Come on, you can't go to Interbike and not see this!"). We drove to a giant field on the outskirts of town filled with tipsy people and flooded with electric light. In the distance I could see a colourful blur of bicyclists making their way through an elaborate obstacle course. As the sounds of cowbells and screams filled my ears, I remember wondering: "What am I doing here?" Five minutes later I was leaning over a barrier, ringing a cowbell and having a shockingly great time. And that's pretty much your typical "my first time watching 'cross" story. No one intends to like it, but inevitably they do.






This year we arrived to the spectacle of Elvis performing on stage before the start of the elite races.






Visitors wandered around purchasing water, beer and cowbells.






Cyclists rode around the grass warming up. Bicycles were being adjusted.






Before the crowds became too dense, I got the chance to survey the empty course. Winding around the grassy field, it did not look too technical, though there were lots of tight turns and a couple of short steep hills.





And, of course, these. I still remember how stunned I was when I first saw the riders hop right over them without breaking stride. How is this possible?







And then the race began. First the women's elite race; the mens would be next. Watching the hoard of riders charge cross the start line, the excitement of it all came back to me. I got goosebumps.





The thing is that at a cyclocross race, you can stand so close that you feel the energy of the riders wash over you like a wave.





And this wave is not some abstract poetic concept. It is very real, visceral. Even if you know nothing about race tactics and don't follow the background stories of any of the riders - just standing there and feeling so much human power and speed happening inches from your own body is a physical rush.





Watching track racing is more abstract in comparison, because the riders are further away. And with road racing you can only witness a small portion of the course at a time. But with cyclocross, all is laid out right in front of you in close proximity. The course winds around the spectators; it intertwines with them. There is a feeling that everything is happening everywhere, all at once.





Pressed against the barrier, I can see the riders' flushed faces, gritted teeth, twitching fingers, razor-burned legs. The physicality and rawness of it are overwhelming.





And then there are the technical parts that differentiate cyclocross from other forms of cycling. The obstacles, the vertical uphills, the dismounts and remounts, the bouts of running with the bike. No matter how graceful the rider, there is an intimate awkwardness to these struggles that makes us feel as if we are witnessing something private that perhaps we are not supposed to be witnessing.






Equally intriguing, is when a group of riders is so synchronised in their movements, that the dismounts and remounts appear to be done in choreographed unison - like a staged ballet.





And of course there are things like this - at which point it is the crowd's chorus of gasps that seems choreographed.






Watching first the women's, then the men's race, I noticed differences. The men stuck in larger, tighter clusters while the women were more strung out after the first lap. There were also difference in demeanor and body language - too subtle to describe, but nonetheless there. Watching the two races were separate experiences.






As the lead group of riders made its way through the course, spectators would rush to position themselves in different spots. This too was interesting to watch.






Through the elbows of others, I could see the anticipatory face of each rider as they crossed the finish line.






What struck me was how much they seemed to be savouring the moment, rather than rushing through it. There was a performative, theatrical element to it.






Photographers were everywhere, capturing the action with impressive lenses and flash units. John Watson's Cross Vegas photos on Prolly is Not Probably are especially worth a look.






While my low-light snapshots are far from professional quality, they do reflect my experience of the event as a spectator: dark and chaotic, punctuated with bursts of light and blurs of colour.






I am not sure whether any of this really explains what makes watching cyclocross fun. It is an evasive quality, but ultimately it is about entertainment - genuine entertainment. You don't even have to like sports or racing to enjoy it - though you might surprise yourself by developing a taste for beer and cowbells.






Accessible and awe-inspiring in equal measure, cyclocross strikes the perfect balance between a country fair, a bicycle race, and an alcohol-fueled block party. While the circus of Cross Vegas examplifies this more than typical races, it truly is the ultimate spectator sport.