Phend-Fisher Family Reunion Ledger - 1909 and 1910

In Oct. 1909, the families met at the home of Christian Phend in Nappanee, Ind. to re-organize.
Meeting was called to order by Wm. Phend.
A song was rendered.
Prayer by Rev. Walmer.
Talk by Wm. Phend
Talk by Grandpa Phend
Remarks by Rev. Walmer.
The following officers were elected
Pres. - Wm. Phend
Sec'y - Ivy Wehrley
Treasurer - Christian Phend
Song "God Be With You Till we Meet Again" concluded the program.
A good dinner was served to about 40 guests.
Adjourned to meet again at John Ernests, near Dunlap on June 25, 1910.The P.M. was spent in seeing the sights about Nap[panee]




The Sec[ond] reunion of the Phend - Fisher families assembled at John Ernests, near Dunlap, June 25 - 1910.
The A. M. was spent in getting acquainted and exchanging greetings.
At noon a good dinner was served, under the large trees on the lawn. Each one bringing a filled lunch basket. About 70 partook of the bounteous feast.
At 3 o'clock the following program was rendered.
Song by all
Prayer by Geo. Walters.
Solo by Mrs. Belle Miller.
Recitation by Freddie Phend.
closing Song by All.
Adjournment.
Later it was decided to meet at the home of Frank Wehrleys in Nappanee, Ind on June - 1911.The following were from a distance - Sam'l Fisher - Kan.
Mr & Mrs Delvin Phend - Iowa
Mrs. Belle Miller - Iowa
Mr and Mrs. Jno. Ringenberger - Garret
Mr and Mrs Jacob Phend and family - Mich
Mr and Mrs Henery Phend and family - Columbia [City]
Mr and Mrs. Geo. Walters
To view all articles in this series click on the "Phend-Fisher Reunion Ledger" label at the bottom of this post.

Lush Landscape

A picturesque trail winds through an oak forest on Mt. Diablo.

Gretton - Kirby Hall and back

5 miles or so - forgot to take the the machine that measures. Around ten of us - I wasn't leading and didn't count. Norma, Karen, Phil, Steph, Ian, Carol, me, Barry E, and a couple of others I may have missed out. Fine weather, still sunny, though clouds were coming in. It was very dry underfoot.





A walk arranged with the usual crew, a stroll not a march in April. We amble along the dusty track, through the gate, down the hill, over the four-stile obstacle and up the field, through the new gate that has replaced the decrepit stile and down to Kirby Hall where the gift shop is open early for Easter holiday visitors, convenient for a very early coffee stop. A peacock greets us, but refuses to display his many-eyed tail, even in the presence of a pale peahen.











We go up the hill to the road, and cross. Our path leads us to a building site. Yet more commercial development – for all the jobs that are coming this way some time in the future. Further on is the race-track, another ugly scar, which promised the earth – you can’t fight progress and money.

After a brief stop to eat bananas, we walk along past the new composting plant – the smell is not bad just now, but can be ferocious in the summer. The path is clear, apart from one field where the farmer hasn’t made it good – we know where it should be and head straight across, though, in a few weeks, we’ll be forced to walk round.

Two and a quarter hours, about five miles and we’re home and dry in time for another coffee.

a familiar walk but everything changesa constant complaint

too busy chattingwrapped up in ourselvesup there were skylarks





The route was like this one, most of the way, but in reverse, and without the mini-detour to Priors Hall wooden bridge.

Plate Ice Paradise

Tonight's sunset was AWESOME! We drove a few miles down the shore to see if there was any ice left after today's insane winds (which continue to blow as I write this). Yesterday there was ice going out across the lake as far as the eye could see. Today that ice is gone, but there remain pockets of ice that had already been built up along the shoreline. We found one such amazing stretch of shoreline by driving slowly along the shoulder of the highway and peering down through the trees at the beach. This spot looked pretty good from the highway, but it looked AMAZING when we got down to the beach! Large mounds of plate ice had been sort of mashed/fused together by the wave action from the lake. Some of the plates were sticking up at all different angles. In other areas the plates were all laying more or less flat, like you see in the lower right of this photo. The plates that were laying flat were reflecting the light from the sky, making for one of the most eye-catching ice scenes that I've ever seen. Topping off this incredible ice was this majestic cloud which, despite the high winds, was hardly moving at all. We watched the cloud turn from grey to orange to pink and back to grey again as the sun went down. This is a sunset that will live forever in my memory as one of the most glorious sunsets of my life. What made it absolutely perfect is that I got to share the whole experience with the woman I love, who in exactly one month will be my wife :-)

Gilman Tunnels and River

Snow Angels on the Pigeon River Ice

During my hike yesterday at Grand Portage State Park I came across this interesting discovery on the river ice... snow angels! Apparently some park visitors thought it would be the perfect location to plop down on the ice and make some angels. I, for one, am glad they did as I thought it made for an interesting shot!

Acadia :: The Schoodic Peninsula

Sunday, September 16th - - Another beautiful day greeted us this morning, our last day at Acadia National Park. We decided to visit the 'other side' of Acadia, the
side that few visitors go to see...



Residents of two towns, Winter Harbor and Gouldsboro, as well as several small villages reside on Schoodic Peninsula but about half of the area is part of Acadia National Park
- the only part on the mainland.



As the crow flies, Schoodic Peninsula is only 4 miles from Mount Desert Island but the drive from Bar Harbor is about 40 miles and an hour away. If the conditions are 'just right' out on the southern tip at Schoodic Point the ocean waves crash against the rocky granite shore in a magnificent display of power and beauty.





The 'big hill' in the background is Mount Desert Island, four miles away - as the crow flies. On the long island in front of Mount Desert there is a lighthouse that could barely be seen. This was taken from the western side of Schoodic Peninsula a short distance into the park.





The color of the water was amazing, changing from a deep dark blue to this vibrant blue to a greenish color - all depending upon the direction of the light. This was taken on the eastern side of Schoodic Point, with the sun at my back.





Though it may not look all that impressive, this 'little' wave was about six feet high and when it hit the rocky shore it created quite a splash.





This fella was standing out on the southeast tip of Schoodic Point for quite a while. The water would crash against the outlying rocks...





And wash over them... Several times, I thought for sure he'd get a good soaking, but apparently he was higher and further away than it looked.





He turned to say something to his
companions higher up on the rocks. Still, it did not appear that he
got the least little bit wet!





There is something primal and energizing about watching waves hitting the shore. It was a bit breezy but plenty of sunshine and 70 degree temperatures. We really couldn't have asked for a nicer day!

Thanks Sheri...

While sitting in the auto repair shop in Oakhurst, I had contacted Sheri Fenley (The Educated Genealogist) to see if we could meet up for a day or two. She had been unable to attend the Genealogy Jamboree in Burbank earlier in the month and since I was (sort of) in the area I thought I'd stop by to see her on my way north.

It was a relatively short drive of 150 miles or so from Yosemite to Stockton and I arrived at Sheri's place about noon on Saturday (June 26th). It was non-stop talking for the next 10 hours and most of the day on Sunday! What did we talk about? Our families and Genealogy, of course!

On Sunday, I joined Sheri and a few members of her APG Chapter for lunch and a behind the scenes tour of the San Mateo Historical Museum Archives in Redwood City. It was nice to meet some of her cohorts and see the resources available in San Mateo. Sheri wrote a little about that excursion.

Monday morning photos as I was leaving.

Sheri was saying “Goodbye, Becky!”

Thank you, Sheri, for being a gracious hostess. I very much enjoyed meeting your family and spending time with you. Thank you, Thank you!

Islands in the sky

The fog over Lake Superior yesterday was mesmerizing. One of the best places along the whole Minnesota North Shore is from the Mt. Josephine wayside in Grand Portage, where this photo was taken. We had a series of intense thunderstorms roll through the area yesterday and in between each storm the fog was incredible. Sometimes it would roll in and completely hide the Susie Islands from view, other times it was just thin wisps of fog in between the islands. My favorite views were when the fog was thick in between the islands but not completely covering them. It looked as though the islands were up in the sky, floating in the clouds.

Into the Swing of Things

Over the course of last year I made considerable progress on the bike as far as endurance and handling skills. But what I found most rewarding was having gotten to the point where long and strenuous rides over challenging terrain began to feel normal, with the physical aspects of the riding itself fading into the background and the adventures the riding was enabling taking over. Having gotten a taste of this made it clear how much I valued and wanted it.



This made the start of this season all the more frustrating. Not riding takes its toll, we all know that. And the only fix is to start riding again - it will come back quicker than the previous year. We all know that too. But even experienced cyclists can feel deflated when, having emerged out of hibernation, they find themselves exhausted and with a sore butt after a ridiculously short ride. In response toa post earlier this week, I've heard from several local riders telling me just that. Strong, experienced guys who dohilly Centuries on gravel for fun, frustrated that they've lost their cycling mojo after a bad winter.



So here is something to cheer you up: A true story. I got my groove back after just 3 - count them, 3 - rides, and you can too!



The Damage...

Okay, I will try to be honest here. Between the snow and the weeks of being sick and the snow again, I had not been on a roadbike for close to 2 months, not counting a handful of sporadic short rides. I had also gained about 15lb in "winter weight." So that was my starting point.









The First Ride...

I rode a cyclocross bike with mixed terrain tires. I rode solo, for just 25 miles with a 15 minute break in the middle. It was an extremely cold and windy day, making me feel even more sluggish than I already did. By the end of the ride I was tired, and the next morning I felt shockingly bad. The muscles in my legs hurt, my arms hurt, my abdominal muscles hurt, my butt was sore, the works. Hard to believe that this was the same body that did all that cool stuff last year. Discouraged and in a bad mood afterward, I knitted furiously to dull the pain.







The Second Ride...

The very next day, I aimed to repeat the 25 mile route and again went solo. I had a hard time on this ride, because my butt was still sore from the day before. Again, it was cold and windy. After the ride I felt tired and achy again. In the evening, I tried not to dwell on how out of shape I was, knitting instead.



The Rest Day...

The following day I rode my city bike around town as usual, but not my roadbike. I was still a little tired from the previous two rides, but my butt was finally recovering.





The Third Ride...

This time I had plans to ride with Emily "Fixed Gear Randonneuse" O'Brien. I warned Emily about my sorry state, but she was undeterred, and so we set off. For the first few miles I was out of breath, struggling to hold a conversation while riding at a reasonable pace, so much so that I questioned the wisdom of continuing. Then we headed uphill, and I braced myself for the painful struggle. Oddly it never came. I wasn't fast, but I had low gears and the hill was okay. Then came the downhill, and some more riding, and some miles later - boom! I remember when it happened: We were passing the Air Base, and just like that, I could tell: I got my groove back. The sluggishness, the cobwebs, gone. The achinessgone. Between riding with Emily and on my own, it was a 40 mile day. Today I rode again, and the groove is indeed back: I feel like my old self again.And, as a bonus, I have a new skirt for Spring.



Without a doubt, I need more time in the saddle before a 100 mile ride, or even a non-stop 100K. But it's attainable.



Three rides to get into the swing of things after the winter we've had ain't bad at all. Cheer up, New Englanders and let's ride!

Campobello Island :: Head Harbour Lightstation

Thursday, September 20th - - Also known as the East Quoddy Head Lighthouse, the Head Harbour Lightstation sits on a small island at the northeastern tip of Campobello Island. Built in 1829, it is the oldest surviving lighthouse in New Brunswick and one of the oldest in Canada. Its distinguishing feature is the red St. George Cross on the front.



However, at low tide, this island is no longer an island. I arrived at Campobello too late to take advantage of the low tide and visit the station. Ladders, partially visible in the second photo, allow visitors access to go down and walk across the bay.



The first three photos were taken between 12:45 and 1:30 while the last three were taken between 5:30 and 5:45 (Eastern Time, in reality though they were an hour later because Campobello Island is in the Atlantic Time Zone).

She did it with Love

My mother holding her firstborn child, Charles Douglas "Doug" Wiseman. Two months shy of her birthday, Mom was not quite 19 years old when Doug was born in March 1947. In the next two years, two more children would be born, me and Jack Lynn. Four and a half years after Jack was born, my sister Teresa Jane arrived on the scene.

The pictures below were taken on Easter Sunday in 1955 at grandma's house in Auburn. Jack's coat is too big, Doug's is too small. I wore that coat for more years than I care to remember. Terry was a handful. Mom was a stay-at-home-mom. Of course, back in the 50s that's what moms did. When Terry started school, Mom got a job outside the home and things changed. That's life. Deal with it and move on. She wasn't the "perfect" mother, like Donna Reed or Harriet Nelson, but she did the best that she could with what she knew. She did it with love. Thanks Mom.

Contributed to the 1st Edition of the Smile for the Camera Carnival.

Polar Rotation

My friend Roger (http://www.rogernordstromphoto.blogspot.com/) was just here for a weekend visit and we spent some time together photographing the stars on friday and saturday nights. Roger has been interested in learning more techniques for shooting stars, and since I shoot a fair amount of night-time images, he wanted to pick my brain a bit.

We are both armed with Canon 5D Mark II full-frame cameras, which means we have cameras that are capable of producing some stunning night images. While we didn't have the best skies for shooting stars (there were more clouds than I would have liked), we still came away with some fun images.

Bjørn-Eivind Årtun interview with Rolando Garibotti

"We need to allow ourselves room to be more daring. Too often by over-analysing and over-intellectualising climbs we confuse fear for real danger. It is important to learn to distinguish one from the other. There is a big difference between getting intimidated by the steepness, difficulty or length of a climb, and real dangers such as avalanches, rock-fall, limited options of retreat, cold, etc. Venas Azules is a good example, an intimidating line that is reasonably safe, with little objective danger. Being brave and open minded without compromising your safety is the fine line we walk in our hunger for adventure."





Bjørn-Eivind Årtun



Great interview with one of the leading alpinists in the world today. More here:



http://www.planetmountain.com/english/News/shownews1.lasso?l=2&keyid=38981



And the online guide book with more info here:



http://www.pataclimb.com/



Torre Egger, Patagonia Photo by archivio Bjørn-Eivind Årtun

Venas Azules, Torre Egger, Patagonia.







Torre Egger, Patagonia Photo by Rolando Garibotti



The south face of Torre Egger in Patagonia and the line of the route established by the Norwegians Bjørn-Eivind Aartun and Ole Lied in December .





Thanks to Bruno for the heads up on this one!

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.

!French Doors!

From the time we moved in 8 years ago we haven't cared for the sliding glass doors that led to the back yard. So on Friday we went to Lowes Home Building Store to get a new light to put in the yard as ours had quite. We did get the light but found French Doors on sale at a price we could almost afford. So we splurged and bought them. The first photo is of the old door after we pulled it out as I forgot to take a photo before it was removed. Next are photos of the opening for the door from inside and outside. Then come the photos of the new french doors as we got them in place and then got the lock on the door. We really like our new door but it has really confused the dogs and cats. The sliding glass door opened on in the left corner for them to go in and out. The new door opens in the middle. They keep going to the corner to get in or out. I hope they learn soon. I am sure they will.