Classic Car Museum in Sarasota, FL

After visiting the plantation, we drove over to visit the Sarasota Classic Car Museum. It is located across the street from the Ringling Museum.

Every time we visit Ringling, I want to visit the car museum but we just haven't managed to get there until now. I love classic cars. In fact, I love them more than the guys in the family do. So Nathan humored me to visit here, and Austin opted out and stayed in the front lobby and ate ice cream.

Well, that's not true...before he sat and ate ice cream, he did humor me with one photo op picture:

He has been pestering us about driving since he obtained his learner's permit, so I teased him that he could drive that car anytime he wanted to! Back to the museum...this is the second oldest continuously running car museums in our nation. There are over one hundred cars inside. They had a fabulous collection.



The very best part of it all was the unexpected surprise that had Austin kicking himself for not wandering past the lobby. There were four Beatles cars there! So cool to find that here!

I loved this place! So glad we did make it inside today.



Living the life in Florida!

Bellavista on 3.5 limbs

Cold but happy climbers after Bellavista. Photo: Alan Cassidy (you should read his blog, it’s really good)




Before my ‘long shot’ trip to Bellavista with Alan Cassidy, I had a small hiccup. I was leading Hold Fast, Hold True (E9) in Glen Nevis a week before we were leaving and didn’t quite catch a hold right after the crux, slipping off and decking out from rather higher than one would like. I got away lightly, with quite nasty whiplash and a sprained left ankle. I was able to walk, well, between the kettle and the couch anyway. So I felt it wouldn’t be a problem for the upcoming trip.




I left it 5 days and then tried to get a couple of pre-trip training sessions in TCA before we left. To my dismay, I discovered that I couldn’t even nearly get a rockshoe on my fat, bruised foot. I had a session of one-footed traversing anyway and then went for an X-ray since things seemed to be getting more, not less painful. Sure enough, a couple of bone spurs that have restricted my left ankle dorsiflexion ever since I broke it in 1997 had broken off and are irritating my ankle joint. Some day surgery awaits. I’m quite looking forward to a couple of weeks of Beastmaker abuse during the Lochaber monsoon next month.




By the day we left for Cima Ovest, I’d managed to walk round Morrison’s, take Freida to toddler group and lie on my side in bed without taking Tramadol first. Things were looking up!













Alan trying to get the psyche to rock climb in winter climbing conditions




As I wrote in my last blog, we then proceeded to spend most of the trip being hammered by crap weather. The route was soaking, it rained, snowed, snowed a lot more and then got windy and freezing. We tried to climb on the 8c pitch anyway, but both of us knew we were getting absolutely nowhere. We became totally set in the viewpoint that having been soaking all week, the chances of it drying out a bit in our remaining three days were zilch.












Being practical, or venting wet weather frustration? You decide.




But it didn’t quite work out like that. On the third last day, I went out for a look on the 8c pitch first. The first half was still wet, but the second half was nearly dry, and I could link it to the belay straight away. Quite good. Alan went for his go and was also feeling like he could get to grips with the pitch a bit more. But then, as he was out of sight near the end of the pitch, I heard an “AAAAAGGHHH!”. The rope jerked momentarily tight, then suddenly slack again. Another loud scream and Alan appeared into view, dropping through space. He stopped, dangling at least 15 metres down in the void, with quickdraws sporting ripped pegs spinning down the rope towards him.




He was just sitting on a peg, brushing another damp hold when it ripped and the previous one ripped too. It must have been an exciting journey into space! After having a good laugh about Alan’s trip, we had a think about where this left us. There was now a big section near the end of the pitch with no gear in it. We were on budget flight mode and hadn’t been able to bring any pegs or aid gear in case we needed to re-equip.












In the end, we managed to borrow a hammer from the lovely folk at Rifugio Auronzo and I set up a tension traverse to back-aid and free climb back along from the next belay to the bit that needed re-equipping. I managed to get a sketchy cam in a pocket and gingerly sat on it and proceeded to fail to get the two ill fitting pegs to go in somewhere other than where they’d been before. After an hour, I had it sorted and the route was back online.




However, we had one day left. I just wanted to get the gear back and get home. Everything was wrong and I felt a bit fed up to be honest. My ankle hurt on the walk-in, I couldn’t do certain movements with it on the rock, I’d had my fill of climbing wet rock or frozen rock, we’d not had even one good day to try it properly. Worst of all, it was baltic.










Shall we go climb an 8c north face route today?




We’d not seen a single other party climbing on the north faces all trip. I’m not surprised. On the last day we wandered up, both of us ready to strip it and get on our plane home. Alan climbed the first three pitches (7b, 6c+, 6a+) in one big pitch again. He was clearly struggling to get any feeling from fingers and toes. It was well below zero and blowing a bitter wind. Seconding him, I felt like a frozen robot, clawing up the rock with zero feedback from my digits. Leading the next two pitches (7a, 7a+) I still couldn’t even get my core warm despite climbing in myArete jacket. However, by the time a freezing Alan joined me, the wind had dropped a bit and I was feeling more myself with the full belay jacket and trousers armoury on.




I went out along the start of the 8c and was most surprised to find a special scenario of feelings come over me that doesn’t happen every day. The pitch was the driest it had been all trip. First, there was the sudden rushing feeling of being confident flowing through the moves rather than constantly expecting to ‘ping’ off wet holds. ‘I can still climb!’ Second, the ‘last day’ go for broke mentality clicked into place. When all the preparation has gone so badly, what do you have left except to see what can happen if you just don’t care anymore and go for a good fight with the pitch? Finally, I knew I was going to have one link attempt, so I might as well get it over with as quickly as possible and get home to see my family.













Alan drying holds on one of the 'warm' days




So after the five minute warm up burn, I blasted off at full tilt, through the crux and onto the weird back-and-foot rest at the block above. I wasn’t that pumped. So get going! Up through the mono move and onto the big traverse. I was breathing hard but forearms were absorbing the hit so far. At the undercut move I decided to start really trying and grunted through. But I was able to rest each hand on every hold. I got down to the move before a rest at a huge ‘Hueco’ pocket. My sequence is to fling my feet up into the hole first, have a rest in the bat hang and then flip round and throw my whole arm into it. My ankle was so weak I couldn’t pull up on the toehooks and nearly fell off. I took a few seconds more to figure out what to do, before resting my left foot once and then trying again. It worked and Ihung from the arm-bar for five minutes, breathing slowly calming down. The final ten metres was a pure exercise in relaxation. I knew I could get to the belay if I didn’t make a mistake. The only way I’d make a mistake would be if I started to anticipate success. So I just switched off and pneumatic-ed through the holds with no emotion until the belay suddenly appeared in front of me.




Switching off completely means that when you do wake up and realise it’s done, it’s quite a shocker and the emotion comes flooding back. Alan wasted no time in gathering every down garment we had assembled at the belay and jugged up to join me, already shivering. I thawed out a little in the duvet while Alan cruised the 8a pitch above. I still had to jug up the rope and be lowered back down to do it myself, just to get the blood moving. The wind just kept cutting through me and in the next two pitches (6c+, 7a) I got really pumped on what should be easy ground. There just seemed to be no blood going through my forearms. We both had to second the remaining pitches to the Cassin ledge in the big jackets and duvet trousers! Never done that before, even in mixed climbing. There was just time to strip our gear out of the roof as it was getting dark and made it down to the base to find everything was frozen solid. We packed, rushed back to the car, then Venice for three hours sleep before boarding our flights back to Scotland.




It was really interesting for me to share the experience with Alan, who hasn’t done a great deal of mountain big wall climbs. Failing when the route is hard is something most climbers can deal with pretty well - why else do we try such hard climbs except to feel pushed and feel uncertainty? But failing through not being able to properly try can get under your skin. I certainly still find that creates a lot of restlessness in me. Last week I channelled it into finishing a draft of my book while the blizzards raged outside. Alan took it all really well and was able to keep turning on 'mission mode' all the way on the last day redpoint, despite the scary fall the previous day. His blogs through the week are a nice illumination of an adventure unfolding, the final twist coming right at the last hours before the flight home.




Even now I can’t believe that came together.

Unique RV in Tennessee

As we headed to the National Park today, we stopped at the Visitor Center to grab maps. This truck/RV pulled in next to us. I've seen a lot of different RV's over the years, but this one was the first of its kind.



I just had to jump out and snap some pictures and talk to the creator of this interesting space.

Lucky for me, the guys was more than happy to show and tell. This made my day. I love stuff like this!

Watkins Glen State Park Take Two

We headed back over to Watkins Glen State Park late this afternoon. I'm happy to report that the skies stayed sunny this time so we were able to stay and see all of the waterfalls. This has been one of the most surprising things that we've seen so far. Meaning it was unexpectedly awesome.



The hike is not very long, but the entire walk is breathtaking so it was one of my favorite hikes so far. We went late in the afternoon so the lighting was fabulous, giving this place an almost fairy land glow. We especially loved this place:

From the state park website: Watkins Glen State Park is the most famous of the Finger Lakes State Parks, with a reputation for leaving visitors spellbound.

Within two miles, the glen's stream descends 400 feet past 200-foot cliffs, generating 19 waterfalls along its course.

The gorge path winds over and under waterfalls and through the spray of Cavern Cascade. Rim trails overlook the gorge.

This place was so awe inspiring. I'm so glad we were able to see it. It is days like this that I am so incredibly grateful for this life we are living right now and the chance to take in our country's beauty in new ways. It keeps me grounded in all of the reasons that we do this, even when some parts can feel difficult. It's more than worth it.



Living the life in New York!

Ghosts of Christmas past

December 1961, two years old.

This must have been taken with my grandfather's camera - I don't think we had a color one until many years later.

One of those boxes held a great stuffed tiger, and there was a pink and blue stuffed bear in one of the others. (No I don't remember, I've just got more pictures.)

The table and tea set to the right were the BIG present.


December 1967, with my little brother and sister.

That bear he was sitting on had wheels, and could really scratch up the finish on a floor.

I seem to be holding a Barbie doll, but don't remember playing with them much. (I liked Johnny West dolls better.)

My sister seems happy with her sucker. I think that was her doctor's bag in the foreground.

We always had to wait until my grandfather got there to open the wrapped presents. I remember thinking that he needed to get up a lot earlier.

More Florida Keys

I'm so grateful for our time here. It was a wonderfully relaxing time together as a family.











Living the life in the leisurely Florida Keys!

50 Miles Without Coasting

I have ridden Marianne for about 50 miles now as a fixed gear, so I figure that I can offer my impressions without feeling that I am speaking too soon. I have taken her both on city rides in traffic and on trails (the Charles River Trail and the Minuteman Bikeway), both with the Co-Habitant and alone. And I think the fixed gear conversion was the best thing that could have happened to this bicycle.



Popular culture has created the unfortunate association between fixed gear and danger, brightly coloured track bikes, and "hipsters". But that is ridiculous. The only distinguishing feature of a fixed gear bike is that it does not coast. You can turn your loop-frame or your beach cruiser into a fixed gear if you like, set the gearing low, and enjoy pedaling leisurely around town on it. It will be just like a single speed, only you can't coast. That's all.



I know that most people enjoy coasting, but I have never been crazy about it. On my regular bicycles I try to always be in a gear that will allow me to pedal. Coasting - especially at high speeds - makes me feel as if the bicycle is a wild horse galloping out of control and dragging me along, with me barely managing to hold on to the reins. This is especially frightening on winding downhills - so I try to switch into a high enough gear that will allow me to pedal, and then I feel that I have better steering control. I have no idea whether this is based on real physical principles, or whether it is all in my head. But the result is that I welcome the "no coasting" aspect of fixed gear bicycles, rather than think of it as a drawback.



For the same reason, in many ways I find fixed gear bicycles easier to ride, not more difficult. What else is easier about them? Well, remaining stable at very slow speeds - which is a useful skill in the city. You can only coast for so long before your bicycle stops, but if you push on the pedals again, your speed will increase too much. On a fixed gear, you can pedal in slow motion, and the bicycle will remain perfectly stable while going at the exact speed you want, no matter how slow. This is especially useful when you are trying to go around pedestrians, or inch your way forward to the red light at busy intersections. If you have a poor sense of balance and coordination like I do, you may find fixed gear to be helpful in situations that would otherwise leave you flustered.



As I have mentioned earlier, Marianne was a particularly good choice for a fixed gear bike, because her over-responsiveness is now an asset. As before, she turns super-quickly and easily - but now, she does it only when I want her to and the responsiveness no longer feels like "twitchiness" or "squirreliness". It feels like I now have an extremely maneuverable bike, of which I am in full control - as opposed to a bike that was more maneuverable than I could handle.



The thing that took the most getting used to, was trusting the brakes enough to speed up. I kept having to remind myself, that this is not the track bike I rode in Austria; this bike has brakes and I can come to a complete stop any time, just like on a regular bike! After the first couple of rides though, this finally sunk in and I've stopped worrying about braking.



After a couple of days, we re-did the bars by wrapping the entire surface in cork tape, to allow multiple hand positions. We also removed the rear brake (it really was unnecessary) and placed the front brake lever on the right handlebar for easier access. The bell is now mounted on the stem.



My gearing on this bicycle is 42-tooth in the front and 19-tooth in the rear (with 170mm cranks and 27" wheels). That is a pretty non-aggressive gearing that is good for everyday cycling in hilly areas. I may get a smaller rear cog eventually (which will allow me to go faster, but will make things more difficult on hills), but I don't feel the need for that yet.



There has been some discussion about foot retention and whether I plan to get clips for the pedals. On a fixed gear bike, there is the danger of the feet slipping off the pedals, and the pedals then smacking you in the ankles. This can happen when going over bumps at high speeds, or when flying downhill. I do recognise the risk, but let me put it this way: Given that I have brakes and I don't go very fast on this bike, I think there is more chance of my falling as a result of using clips, than there is of my getting smacked with pedals. I may try Powergrips at some point, but I've seen them in a local bikeshop and even they look scary. I did not do well with half-clips. Are Powergrips easier?



I am sure the novelty of the new Marianne will eventually wear off, but for now I can't seem to stop riding her. After a seat post adjustment (more on this later), the bicycle now feels fairly comfortable on rides under 20 miles. Taking it on a very long ride last night was overkill though, and various parts of my body are now hurting. I think I will stick with the Sam Hillborne for those, and leave Marianne for the city.

More Charleston~The Porches

I couldn't resist sharing this lovely part of Charleston. The porches on the houses were incredible. I feel like the city should be dubbed "The Porch City". I mean, I couldn't snap pictures fast enough in an attempt to get all of the insanely incredible porches.

This is just a small sampling of the beauty here. This place was hands down one of the prettiest cities I've visited so far.

The "Lady" Finds a Home! (Thoughts on the Brooks B18)

If you have been reading this weblog for a while, you might remember that I had purchased a Brooks B18 "Lady" saddle some time ago, thinking that I would put it on my Pashley. However, the Pashley ended up staying with her native B66S, while the special edition "Lady" remained in its pretty box.

I had tried to fit the B18 on other bicycles as well, but it was not a success. Only now has it finally found a home, upon the Raleigh DL-1 Lady's Tourist. They are a perfect match.

Here is how it looks with the vintage Tourist saddlebag.

View from the back.

The problem I had with the B18 on other bicycles, was that the shape of the saddle conflicted with their frame geometries. I will try to explain the problem: The B18 is a very wide saddle. So wide, that my derriere (which is by no means small) does not cover it sufficiently for unrestricted pedaling on most types of bicycles. As I bring a leg down to pedal, the back of my upper thigh/ lower butt area presses painfully against the stiff side of the saddle, causing extreme discomfort. It's not a matter of the saddle being broken in or not broken in; its very structure causes this problem. Basically, a bicycle frame needs to have a very slack seat tube angle - so that the pedals are positioned considerably forward of the saddle - in order for it to be humanly possible to pedal while sitting on the B18.

On the above photo you can see that the Raleigh DL-1 Lady's Tourist has a very slack seat tube angle. See how the saddle is practically lying back over the rear wheel as opposed to standing straight up above the pedals? That's basically what needs to happen for the B18 to be suitable. With the legs moving down and forward, as opposed to straight down, the butt/thigh area is not in contact with the wide part of the saddle and pedaling does not cause pain. Both my Pashley Princess and my Raleigh Lady's Sports have considerably steeper seat tubes, which is why the B18 did not work with them. However, the Raleigh DL-1 and the "Lady" are a match made in heaven. With the appropriate frame geometry, the width and softness of the B18 are extremely comfortable.

The B18's maiden voyage upon the DL-1 Lady's Tourist. It has stood the test of a 2-hour tour of Boston, Cambridge and Somerville, so I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship. The B18 is truly a gorgeous saddle and can be a dream on the right bicycle.