To the readers of Tumbleweed Crossing.
May you have Joy in your Heart, Pease in your Soul, and Happiness, and Freedom forever. From the Desert Windwriter of Tumbleweed Crossing
There's somebody out there for everybody. You just have to wait for god to bring them into your life.
Saturday, November 30, 2013
Passing Time on Mt. Maude
This is my favorite picture from last weekend's night shooting sessions. It takes a bit of planning and preparation to pull off a shot like this but when you take your time and set things up right, the results are worth it. After about 20 "test" shots to dial in the composition I was ready to start the long exposure. This was a 96 minute exposure that I started at exactly 10:00 PM on September 3rd. The lens aperture was set at f4, and the camera's ISO was set at 100. Careful placement of the North star makes (I believe) for a very compelling composition. Taken with a Canon 5D Mark II camera and Canon EF 17-40mm lens.
Stop, Look Around...
All the walking I've been doing lately on account of the weather has made me pay even closer attention to my surroundings than I do while cycling. Everything looks different in the snow - elegant and magical. The thin patch of woods near my house has turned into a majestic white forest worthy of a 19th century Scandinavian painting. It's as if the sky was squeezed straight out of a tube of cerulean blue and the austere vertical strokes of the trees were applied with a pallet knife. It's not my style, but I am certain this scene has been painted many times. It's archetypal.
Upon emerging from the pristine wonderland, I came face to face with this. Literally: It was located at face level, and in my willingness to submerge myself so fully in my daydream, I nearly walked into it.
The city is using excavators to facilitate snow removal, as the plows alone are not enough. The effect is interesting, making the neighbourhood look like an igloo construction zone. In order to clear the center of the roads, the excavator dumps more and more snow to the sides - creating monstrous, densely packed snowbanks that line the streets like the walls of some arctic city-state.
Walking on the sidewalk is a surreal experience. You are essentially in a tunnel - with buildings on one side, igloo wall on the other. Along some stretches, the snowbanks are taller than the average human height, so as a pedestrian I can only see the sidewalk in front of me and not the road to the side of me.
Those "Do Not Enter" and "Except Bicycles" signs are for a one-way side street that has a bike lane going in the direction against traffic. For most of last winter the lane looked like this. How cute that I complained about it then: This year it's been swallowed up by the snow banks entirely.
It is not uncommon to encounter bicycles "buried alive." There were actually three separate bicycles inside this snowbank.
Less common is the sight of a bicycle being ridden - but it happens, especially on the heavily salted main roads. Note how the yellow crosswalk sign, its reflection in the puddle, and the golden light of the setting sun play off the colours in the cyclist's knitted hat - all of it especially noticeable against the white, snowy backdrop. Somehow, everything seems to be reminding me of a painting these days. Certainly this person and his hat deserve to be painted.
It's been over a month and a half now without the car. We signed up for zipcar through the Co-Habitant's work, but have not used it yet. And ironically, the blizzards are making it easier to do without: With the roads as bad as they are, we wouldn't have been traveling to any photoshoots up North anyway, and so we don't feel as if not having our car is keeping us from accomplishing anything. We'll get the car fixed as it gets closer to Spring. But for now, it's been remarkably easy to just forget about that thing and for us both to get around entirely on foot and bike. And with so many snow days, I am rediscovering walking - which I appreciate for making me stop, look around, and see my neighborhood in a new light.
Upon emerging from the pristine wonderland, I came face to face with this. Literally: It was located at face level, and in my willingness to submerge myself so fully in my daydream, I nearly walked into it.
The city is using excavators to facilitate snow removal, as the plows alone are not enough. The effect is interesting, making the neighbourhood look like an igloo construction zone. In order to clear the center of the roads, the excavator dumps more and more snow to the sides - creating monstrous, densely packed snowbanks that line the streets like the walls of some arctic city-state.
Walking on the sidewalk is a surreal experience. You are essentially in a tunnel - with buildings on one side, igloo wall on the other. Along some stretches, the snowbanks are taller than the average human height, so as a pedestrian I can only see the sidewalk in front of me and not the road to the side of me.
Those "Do Not Enter" and "Except Bicycles" signs are for a one-way side street that has a bike lane going in the direction against traffic. For most of last winter the lane looked like this. How cute that I complained about it then: This year it's been swallowed up by the snow banks entirely.
It is not uncommon to encounter bicycles "buried alive." There were actually three separate bicycles inside this snowbank.
Less common is the sight of a bicycle being ridden - but it happens, especially on the heavily salted main roads. Note how the yellow crosswalk sign, its reflection in the puddle, and the golden light of the setting sun play off the colours in the cyclist's knitted hat - all of it especially noticeable against the white, snowy backdrop. Somehow, everything seems to be reminding me of a painting these days. Certainly this person and his hat deserve to be painted.
It's been over a month and a half now without the car. We signed up for zipcar through the Co-Habitant's work, but have not used it yet. And ironically, the blizzards are making it easier to do without: With the roads as bad as they are, we wouldn't have been traveling to any photoshoots up North anyway, and so we don't feel as if not having our car is keeping us from accomplishing anything. We'll get the car fixed as it gets closer to Spring. But for now, it's been remarkably easy to just forget about that thing and for us both to get around entirely on foot and bike. And with so many snow days, I am rediscovering walking - which I appreciate for making me stop, look around, and see my neighborhood in a new light.
Monday, November 25, 2013
Mystic Art
This my son's stallion Darkan's Mystic Art. He is half Arabian, and half Saddlebred, and all beautiful.
Poking the bear?
Photo courtesy of Mikey Schaefer and Patagonia
Two comments that took a few minutes to write and I thought worth repeating here with an additional link from Patagonia.
Patagonia and water proof down?
"I've seen a lot of nice down jackets in the past couple of years. And the industry has a twice yearly "game changer" @ OR. Some real and some imagined. Here is what I have been told. YMMV. I simply don't know enough to comment any further. But call me skeptical. Water proof down goes back to/comes from the fly fishermen. I have not talked with any of the current proponents of water proof down directly. But I did happen upon two of the major manufactures that have decided not to use a treated down in their garments. The reasons as I understood them? Not hard to turn 700 fill down into 1000 fill down by this process. Just hard to keep it 1000 fill down in long term use. Not hard to make water proof down. Just hard to keep it water proof down long term. My opinion? Down garments and bags will last generations and fully functional if properly cared for. The good ones are and have always been expensive. I want mine to last and work as expected from day one till I decide to ditch it. I understand the reasoning behind wanting water proof down. Great idea. And it may well be a game changer. But when two of the best manufactures in down gear currently decide they want to wait...and for what seems like good reasons. I'm hesitant. The flip side to all that? I've had the chance to spend the winter in the newest Patagonia alpine line of clothing. Guide, Mixed Guide, North Wall and Knife Blade/Piton combos. Gotta say I am really impressed with every piece of the line. The designers and the athletes have obviously come together in the alpine line with some amazing synergy. I really am impressed. Even though I think it might better be described as a dh ski line as easily as a "alpine" implied climbing line. It works for both and looks pretty natty All of which bodes well imo for the new down. Just not convinced yet." Much more here from Patagonia and worth the read: http://www.thecleanestline.com//03/the-patagonia-encapsil-down-belay-parka-an-origin-story.html Black Diamond Crampons again: Keenan: "the heel piece that I just received used a harder alloy and different plastic design than previous generations....on first glance they look much better. the plastic piece is designed to pop onto the heel with more accuracy" My response: Only two known failures? The first in public mid Dec . Nice of Joe to give us all a heads up on what to look for. And your second warning Keenan. An anomaly I am sure. Now a new heel piece design from BD. Hard to keep up on all the problems and the resulting redesigns/fixes. You seem to imply this is only a larger size boot issue? 46 and larger by your implication? Or just not an issue...until it is an issue? I only ask because you and Joe brought the heel lever failures to the public. Joe ended up dumping his from what he said in his last public accounting. You now seem satisfied with yours. Seems what I get from this is we are back to, "inspect your gear" and some gear just requires you to "inspect it more often". May be the lesson is gear fails, complain on the Internet until the company calls you and fixes their shite. Then go back on the Internet and make nice. Tell us how good the stuff really is once fixed. Side track here..in case there is any misperception. I have no loyalties to any gear manufacture. And no bone to pick personally or professionally with any gear manufacture. Much to the consternation of a few that have commented. I simply keep track. And I rely on my own gear to not fail. Two BD heel levers obviously fail. 2 months later we get 2nd hand word of may be a new design to solve a problem that may be is caused by using bigger boots. Not sure where that leaves me with my heel levers but OK...I've been warned anyway, thanks to Keenan and Joe. And the Internet. All too familiar territory and scenario imo, if you are keeping track. The flip side? One broken connecting bar on a well worn (worn out!) Grivel G20 comes to light at Grivel. No Internet fuss. Just a simple email to Grivel. Grivel replaces the entire crampon in trade for the pair with one broken connecting bar. Couple of months later totally new design on the connecting bar. Grivel makes a public statement of the improvement and offers free replacements for anyone in the older G20s or G22s. Just to go a little further. I still own BD Sabertooth and Serac crampons. If I could simply trust them to NOT FAIL I would climb everything from hard M to WI6 in Sabers. I like how they climb and have done both in them. But in the current stainless versions, from experience (remember I keep track) I simply don't trust them to be reliable. That started with the first failures reported back in the winter of /. I continue to read reports of their failures today. Never been any word as to why they fail. May be it is the big boots, soft boots, beginner climbers, walking in them, climbing in them (seriously?) or the other paltry answers BD "officially" pronounced early on. But never a faulty crampon...just more "fixes" never acknowledged, that are still failing on occasion. Now folks (such a gentle term) on the Internet tell me that horizontal crampons are not made for technical climbing and that big feet cause crampon failures. Which of course defies history and common sense. Or that some of the best and most well respected alpine climbing boots ever designed are NOT appropriate for use with that crampon. Better yet some want to quote the statistical failure rates based on the manufacturer's information. If the company had a history of being open and transparent I might take those numbers to heart. Grivel and Petzl for example..seem pretty open about gear failures. Only statistics that concern me are the ones I generate from my boots and my crampons. Those numbers I trust and are the only ones meaningful to me when I clip on my crampons. I may have fallen of a turnip truck. But thankfully I didn't fall off yesterday." http://coldthistle.blogspot.com//02/it-is-dead-horse-more-on-stainless.html | |
Sunday, November 24, 2013
What happened to the Camp Muir Webcam?
April 14,
The webcam hasn't worked since a fateful day in late November.
I have it in my office in Longmire. I went up about two months ago with all the tools to fix it, but I was unable to make field repairs, so I dismantled it and brought it down the hill.
I have been able to connect to the on-board server, but the image doesn't come up in the admin tool. I will delegate this repair to one of the climbing rangers over the next few weeks. If we can't repair or make an easy adjustment, then we'll have to order a new one.
How did it get broken? Well, reports have come in from various places, but it appears that the webcam has been consistently been taking a good beating. Not by weather, but by people, well-meaning people, to be more exact. The webcam during storms gets rimed up and it obscures the view. It may stay like this for days. So when avid viewers are actually at Camp Muir and in a position to "fix" the rime on the camera, they either hit or scrape the rime off the camera.
The marks on the camera's protective dome seem to corroborate the circumstantial evidence and the hear-say. It definitely looks like dome has taken some pretty heavy blows with a sharp object.
It will still be a month or more until I can get it working again.
Sorry for the delay.
The webcam hasn't worked since a fateful day in late November.
I have it in my office in Longmire. I went up about two months ago with all the tools to fix it, but I was unable to make field repairs, so I dismantled it and brought it down the hill.
I have been able to connect to the on-board server, but the image doesn't come up in the admin tool. I will delegate this repair to one of the climbing rangers over the next few weeks. If we can't repair or make an easy adjustment, then we'll have to order a new one.
How did it get broken? Well, reports have come in from various places, but it appears that the webcam has been consistently been taking a good beating. Not by weather, but by people, well-meaning people, to be more exact. The webcam during storms gets rimed up and it obscures the view. It may stay like this for days. So when avid viewers are actually at Camp Muir and in a position to "fix" the rime on the camera, they either hit or scrape the rime off the camera.
The marks on the camera's protective dome seem to corroborate the circumstantial evidence and the hear-say. It definitely looks like dome has taken some pretty heavy blows with a sharp object.
It will still be a month or more until I can get it working again.
Sorry for the delay.
Saturday, November 23, 2013
Bem Vindo Porto! Welcome Oporto!
What can I say? I have fallen in love with Porto (Oporto in English)! I could not believe I have waited this long to discover her. She is a gem.
Transavia direct flight, Amsterdam to Porto
So I arrived here Friday night after a 2-hour flight delay. There were technical problems, something to do with the sensors of the plane and they have to be replaced. Everyone was already strapped on their seats inside the aircraft when the pilot announced the bad news. We really had no choice but to sit tight, complain and get bored.
Here in the car, Dutchman sending me off to the airport.
Flight delay, we were trapped in the aircraft for almost 2 hours. No where else to go. What to do? I ordered red wine and did FB and read BBC on my iPhone. Everyone was doing the same thing, busy with their smartphones.
Porto brand spanking new airport
I did not checked in my bag but because the plane was full and I was one of the last to board, they had no more space for me. So they took my bag and told me I will get it at the baggage belt. Not like!
I took a cab from the airport to my hotel, quick and easy. I heard that the metro is cheaper but with the flight delay, I ran out of patience figuring out how to buy a ticket and the route. I just want to get to my hotel ASAP and go out and meet Porto!
Porto postcards
Here are a few Porto postcards for you...
Tomorrow I am off to the Douro River Valley and its charming vineyards and villages.
Visit Period: March
Destination: Porto (Grande Porto), Portugal
Transavia direct flight, Amsterdam to Porto
So I arrived here Friday night after a 2-hour flight delay. There were technical problems, something to do with the sensors of the plane and they have to be replaced. Everyone was already strapped on their seats inside the aircraft when the pilot announced the bad news. We really had no choice but to sit tight, complain and get bored.
Here in the car, Dutchman sending me off to the airport.
Flight delay, we were trapped in the aircraft for almost 2 hours. No where else to go. What to do? I ordered red wine and did FB and read BBC on my iPhone. Everyone was doing the same thing, busy with their smartphones.
Porto brand spanking new airport
I did not checked in my bag but because the plane was full and I was one of the last to board, they had no more space for me. So they took my bag and told me I will get it at the baggage belt. Not like!
I took a cab from the airport to my hotel, quick and easy. I heard that the metro is cheaper but with the flight delay, I ran out of patience figuring out how to buy a ticket and the route. I just want to get to my hotel ASAP and go out and meet Porto!
Porto postcards
Here are a few Porto postcards for you...
Tomorrow I am off to the Douro River Valley and its charming vineyards and villages.
Visit Period: March
Destination: Porto (Grande Porto), Portugal
Monday, November 18, 2013
Remembering Joe Puryear
Last Wednesday, October 27th we received tragic news that friend and former climbing ranger Joe Puryear lost his life while climbing Labuche Kang, a remote peak in Tibet. His partner on the climb was David Gottlieb, a current climbing ranger.
This loss has deeply affected everyone in our community. Joe was an incredible person and he will be greatly missed. Our thoughts are with Joe's family and with David, as he continues to deal with this situation in Tibet.
To read more about Joe's incredible life and climbing adventures please visit his website.
This loss has deeply affected everyone in our community. Joe was an incredible person and he will be greatly missed. Our thoughts are with Joe's family and with David, as he continues to deal with this situation in Tibet.
To read more about Joe's incredible life and climbing adventures please visit his website.
Chesapeake Thousand Trails
Back again to Thousand Trails in Chesapeake. Easy drive. The park is more full than I've ever seen it. We were lucky to even get a spot in the section we wanted. We have lots of shade trees in our spot, which should help fight the heat.
Yearning for a Lovely Bicycle
Before all of this began, I had not been on a bicycle since my teenage years in the 1990s. Back then, my trusty beat up bike felt simply like an extension of my body -- I rode it everywhere, wearing anything I wanted. Riding did not require any special preparations. The bike was easy to operate and it gave me a sense of independence.
[image: from an advert of Triumph Cycles, early 1900's]
Somehow in adulthood, things became different. It seemed impossible to simply buy an attractive, comfortable bicycle and ride it. There was a bike culture, where cycling was positioned as a formalised, athletic, and often political act. This culture has done a great deal to keep me away from bicycles.
My associations with bicycles from seeing them ridden in American cities includedhunched-over postures, blotchy, sweat-stained facescommunicating a curious combination of misery and self-righteousness,commitment to a wardrobe of lycra or t-shirts with anti-car slogans, andconstant risk of collisions with motor vehicles... none of which appealed to me. Combined with the bicycles themselves - aggressive, awkward monstrosities that I wouldn't begin to know how to physically negotiate -bike culture was not something I found compatible with my ideas of dignity and aesthetics. If it were possible to ride a bicycle with grace and without the need to sacrifice my personal tastes - perhaps I might want one again. But what I had seen on the streets and in bike shops was not encouraging.
[image from http://sellwoodcycle.com]
Only on vintage posters and in old art films did I see the bicycle portrayed in a manner that made me long to cycle again. The relaxed style exuded by the fictional ladies of yore was alluring and enticing; it made cycling seem feasible. But did such bicycles still exist in today's world?
On a sunny Spring day in Somerville, Massachusetts, I found my answer. Chained casually to a parking meter, it was the first bicycle I had seen on the city streets that I would describe as lovely. It had a beautifully shaped ladies' frame and gracefully curved handlebars. It was fitted with all sorts of fascinating components including a chain cover and a basket rack. It was decorated with flowers.
I jotted down the name: Gazelle, and did some research. And suddenly, an entire new world had opened up: a world of relaxed-style urban bicycles that are very much in production today using the same traditional design elements that I so admired on the vintage posters. These bicycles were most definitely lovely, and I immediately began my search for one to call my own.
[image: from an advert of Triumph Cycles, early 1900's]
Somehow in adulthood, things became different. It seemed impossible to simply buy an attractive, comfortable bicycle and ride it. There was a bike culture, where cycling was positioned as a formalised, athletic, and often political act. This culture has done a great deal to keep me away from bicycles.
My associations with bicycles from seeing them ridden in American cities includedhunched-over postures, blotchy, sweat-stained facescommunicating a curious combination of misery and self-righteousness,commitment to a wardrobe of lycra or t-shirts with anti-car slogans, andconstant risk of collisions with motor vehicles... none of which appealed to me. Combined with the bicycles themselves - aggressive, awkward monstrosities that I wouldn't begin to know how to physically negotiate -bike culture was not something I found compatible with my ideas of dignity and aesthetics. If it were possible to ride a bicycle with grace and without the need to sacrifice my personal tastes - perhaps I might want one again. But what I had seen on the streets and in bike shops was not encouraging.
[image from http://sellwoodcycle.com]
Only on vintage posters and in old art films did I see the bicycle portrayed in a manner that made me long to cycle again. The relaxed style exuded by the fictional ladies of yore was alluring and enticing; it made cycling seem feasible. But did such bicycles still exist in today's world?
On a sunny Spring day in Somerville, Massachusetts, I found my answer. Chained casually to a parking meter, it was the first bicycle I had seen on the city streets that I would describe as lovely. It had a beautifully shaped ladies' frame and gracefully curved handlebars. It was fitted with all sorts of fascinating components including a chain cover and a basket rack. It was decorated with flowers.
I jotted down the name: Gazelle, and did some research. And suddenly, an entire new world had opened up: a world of relaxed-style urban bicycles that are very much in production today using the same traditional design elements that I so admired on the vintage posters. These bicycles were most definitely lovely, and I immediately began my search for one to call my own.
Sunday, November 17, 2013
Vermont and New Hampshire Barns From My Window
And my favorite barn that we've seen so far. It wasn't the prettiest, but I loved its endurance and character!
And while I'm writing, can I say how good it is to be back? When we were in PA, we had no cell phone service and very limited internet. As in, I could not even read Pioneer Woman's blog. So I didn't bother doing much posting there. I'll have to see if I can go back and cover what we did see and do there sometime.
I have missed blogging so much though. I told Nathan tonight that it truly helps to cultivate gratitude for my life when I blog. When I'm going throughout the day, I can easily fall into a mindlessness about what we are doing. When I look at the pictures and write the words to capture the day, it makes me stop and be very mindful of this wonderful life we are living right now and all of the neat things we see each day. It's good for my soul!
Living the life in Vermont!
And while I'm writing, can I say how good it is to be back? When we were in PA, we had no cell phone service and very limited internet. As in, I could not even read Pioneer Woman's blog. So I didn't bother doing much posting there. I'll have to see if I can go back and cover what we did see and do there sometime.
I have missed blogging so much though. I told Nathan tonight that it truly helps to cultivate gratitude for my life when I blog. When I'm going throughout the day, I can easily fall into a mindlessness about what we are doing. When I look at the pictures and write the words to capture the day, it makes me stop and be very mindful of this wonderful life we are living right now and all of the neat things we see each day. It's good for my soul!
Living the life in Vermont!
Thursday, November 14, 2013
Big Bucket
For what ever reason (only the kittens know) our 2 new kittens prefer to drink water out of the larger water bucket that the dogs and older cats use. They will do this even though I put a smaller bowl down for them to use. At first they could just barely reach the water when it was at the top of the bucket. And yes, it is a Easter kids bucket.
How come?
How comeI try gear and love it, then I read the latest gear review..doesn't matter where... and it sucks? Sucks bad in fact.
I have to wonder if they actually even used the item for what it was intended.
Not only that but I paid just under $20 cash for two hard copies of the annual "gear guide" that are total BS for content. Ads were good though. And manufactures pay $3 to 5K for a color cover? What are they thinking?
An incredible 7K meter peak down jacket reviewed for boulderingcomes to mind.(no really that was the review!) Or one of the best skimo/touring skis I've been on, written up as a total looser when used as free ride ski? No, really, who would have thought.."free ride lift ski"? (me rolling my eyes here)
Do the stars,moon and freaking Sun have to align with a hefty wad of cash for the FREE gearto get a decent/honest review in hard print? The more I think about it and see what does get published the more pissed off I get.
I have to wonder if they actually even used the item for what it was intended.
Not only that but I paid just under $20 cash for two hard copies of the annual "gear guide" that are total BS for content. Ads were good though. And manufactures pay $3 to 5K for a color cover? What are they thinking?
An incredible 7K meter peak down jacket reviewed for boulderingcomes to mind.(no really that was the review!) Or one of the best skimo/touring skis I've been on, written up as a total looser when used as free ride ski? No, really, who would have thought.."free ride lift ski"? (me rolling my eyes here)
Do the stars,moon and freaking Sun have to align with a hefty wad of cash for the FREE gearto get a decent/honest review in hard print? The more I think about it and see what does get published the more pissed off I get.
Tuesday, November 12, 2013
Bikes, Trains, Sailboats
After months of deliberation and procrastination, we've finally done it: Traveled by train with our bikes. For a while now we have wanted to cycle around Cape Ann, which is a beautiful area about 40 miles North of Boston - accessible by the MBTA Commuter Rail via the Rockport line. A number of people we know have taken this trip with their bikes, so it seemed doable. Also, I was delighted to spot the following notice on the MBTA website: "Commuter Rail re-introduces The Bike Coach on the Rockport line for the summer season." Bike coach! No other information was provided, so I did some research. Turns out they have commuter trains with special cars dedicated entirely to bikes - with bike racks as far as the eye can see, like this.But I could not find any information regarding its schedule, and it seemed that only some weekend trains were Bike Coach trains. A call to the MBTA was fruitless, so we decided to just show up and hope for the best.
The commuter train to Cape Ann leaves from North Station, a 3.25 mile bike ride from our house through some of the busiest parts of Boston.I don't like cycling through the city on a roadbike, but on a Saturday morning the traffic wasn't bad. We arrived early, which was good as there was a line at the ticket machines. There were plenty of other people with bicycles. When our train arrived, the conductor came out and announced that all those with bikes must proceed to the first car of the train. Only those with bikes were allowed in that car. Only those without bikes were allowed in the other cars. The segregation gave us hope that this was the fabled Bike Coach, and we happily headed for the front car along with the procession of other cyclists.
What happened next was rather stunning. The car we were ushered into had no accommodations for bikes what so ever - just a small corner of space at one end where a couple of handicapped seats had been removed. This was definitely not the Bike Coach. Nonetheless, everybody proceeded to drag their bikes on the train - more and more of them, until not only this corner, but the entire aisle was filled with bikes. When even that space ran out, new passengers began to pile their bikes on top of other bikes. Loud clunking noises filled the train as tubes smashed against derailleurs.
Not wanting our bikes damaged in the velo moshpit that ensued, we found a seat near the exit and sort of held our bikes on our laps the entire time. As you might imagine, it was uncomfortable to sit that way for an hour. But the alternative was to accept that a dozen 50lb mountain bikes would be thrown on top of our bicycles - which was not a viable option. So we tried to have a sense of humour about the whole thing and looked forward to reaching our destination while seriously discussing the possibility of Bromptons in the future.
But no sooner had we reached Rockport than the train trauma was forgotten, as we were greeted with perfect weather and glorious coastal views.
The Cape Ann peninsula consists of Rockport, Annisquam Village and Gloucester - each of them with beautiful scenery. Severed from the mainland by the windingAnnisquam River, water views are everywhere.This was our first time in the area and we decided to do an exploratory loop along the coastline instead of a long-distance trip. The Cape Ann loop is about 20 miles, with mild but constant rolling hills, alternating between open water views and tree lined country roads. Especially considering the 4th of July weekend, the area was not crowded. Drivers were courteous everywhere except for the traffic circle in Gloucester, but even that was not too bad. Roads were good on the eastern side of the cape, but terrible on the western side. Navigation was intuitive - just follow the coastline!
My Rivendell is in the midst of a small (but exciting) make-over, so I took the loaner Seven on this trip. Overall it was pretty good, though a burlier bike might have been a better choice on the pothole-ridden roads.We also ventured off road a bit, which was "interesting" on 23mm racing tires!
Cape Ann is even quieter and less commercially developed than we expected, a pleasant surprise. Lots of parks, meadows and nature reserves. Not too many parking lots. And "motel sprawl" is virtually non-existant - at least compared to places like Cape Cod, the NH Seacoast, and much of coastal Maine.
Also, there are apparently sailboat races happening in Rockport - wonderful!
All in all, we loved the area andare now considering staying there for longer, instead of venturing further from home on vacation later this summer. After all - just load up our bikes on the commuter rail, it's so easy!Of course we'd forgotten about our train experience earlier that day. Or at least, we thought, there would surely not be as many bikes on the return trip. Or maybe we would finally get the mythical Bike Coach?
Nope, no such luck. On the return trip, passengers were once again segregated into those with bikes and those without, and this time the "bike car" had a car rack attached in the handicapped seating area. It accommodated 4-5 bikes, tightly squeezed, and was filled as soon as the train began to board.
Minutes later, that pathetic little bike rack was surrounded by dozens of other bikes, stacked and thrown against one another haphazardly.
Exits were blocked, aisles were blocked - no one seemed to care. When passengers with bikes needed to get on or off, they would simply throw the other bikes out of the way and the whole thing was like one huge pile of scrap metal.So we held our bikes on our laps again - hugging them ever closer to our bodies as other passengers kept trying to pile their bikes on top of ours (yes, even while we were holding our bikes on our laps!). It was a madhouse and probably violated all sorts of safety regulations. The MBTA clearly needs to have these alleged Bike Coach cars run with more frequency and on a predictable schedule. As we now understand it, the schedule is random and there is no way to time your trip to ensure that you will get a Bike Coach. Sounds improbable, but that's how it is!
Late in the evening, we rode home from the station along mostly empty city streets, recuperating from the train but also satiated from a day of exploring such a beautiful new place by bicycle. We only cycled 30 miles over all, and the point of the trip was mainly to hang out and get to know the area. Next time we will plan for a longer route.The North Shore is a great starting point for long distance touring: While there is no pleasant bicycle route North out of Boston, from Cape Ann we could just continue to cycle along the coast to Maine. Definitely something to consider, despite the less than ideal commuter rail experience.
What is it like to travel on a train with a bike where you live, and do you do it often?
The commuter train to Cape Ann leaves from North Station, a 3.25 mile bike ride from our house through some of the busiest parts of Boston.I don't like cycling through the city on a roadbike, but on a Saturday morning the traffic wasn't bad. We arrived early, which was good as there was a line at the ticket machines. There were plenty of other people with bicycles. When our train arrived, the conductor came out and announced that all those with bikes must proceed to the first car of the train. Only those with bikes were allowed in that car. Only those without bikes were allowed in the other cars. The segregation gave us hope that this was the fabled Bike Coach, and we happily headed for the front car along with the procession of other cyclists.
What happened next was rather stunning. The car we were ushered into had no accommodations for bikes what so ever - just a small corner of space at one end where a couple of handicapped seats had been removed. This was definitely not the Bike Coach. Nonetheless, everybody proceeded to drag their bikes on the train - more and more of them, until not only this corner, but the entire aisle was filled with bikes. When even that space ran out, new passengers began to pile their bikes on top of other bikes. Loud clunking noises filled the train as tubes smashed against derailleurs.
Not wanting our bikes damaged in the velo moshpit that ensued, we found a seat near the exit and sort of held our bikes on our laps the entire time. As you might imagine, it was uncomfortable to sit that way for an hour. But the alternative was to accept that a dozen 50lb mountain bikes would be thrown on top of our bicycles - which was not a viable option. So we tried to have a sense of humour about the whole thing and looked forward to reaching our destination while seriously discussing the possibility of Bromptons in the future.
But no sooner had we reached Rockport than the train trauma was forgotten, as we were greeted with perfect weather and glorious coastal views.
The Cape Ann peninsula consists of Rockport, Annisquam Village and Gloucester - each of them with beautiful scenery. Severed from the mainland by the windingAnnisquam River, water views are everywhere.This was our first time in the area and we decided to do an exploratory loop along the coastline instead of a long-distance trip. The Cape Ann loop is about 20 miles, with mild but constant rolling hills, alternating between open water views and tree lined country roads. Especially considering the 4th of July weekend, the area was not crowded. Drivers were courteous everywhere except for the traffic circle in Gloucester, but even that was not too bad. Roads were good on the eastern side of the cape, but terrible on the western side. Navigation was intuitive - just follow the coastline!
My Rivendell is in the midst of a small (but exciting) make-over, so I took the loaner Seven on this trip. Overall it was pretty good, though a burlier bike might have been a better choice on the pothole-ridden roads.We also ventured off road a bit, which was "interesting" on 23mm racing tires!
Cape Ann is even quieter and less commercially developed than we expected, a pleasant surprise. Lots of parks, meadows and nature reserves. Not too many parking lots. And "motel sprawl" is virtually non-existant - at least compared to places like Cape Cod, the NH Seacoast, and much of coastal Maine.
Also, there are apparently sailboat races happening in Rockport - wonderful!
All in all, we loved the area andare now considering staying there for longer, instead of venturing further from home on vacation later this summer. After all - just load up our bikes on the commuter rail, it's so easy!Of course we'd forgotten about our train experience earlier that day. Or at least, we thought, there would surely not be as many bikes on the return trip. Or maybe we would finally get the mythical Bike Coach?
Nope, no such luck. On the return trip, passengers were once again segregated into those with bikes and those without, and this time the "bike car" had a car rack attached in the handicapped seating area. It accommodated 4-5 bikes, tightly squeezed, and was filled as soon as the train began to board.
Minutes later, that pathetic little bike rack was surrounded by dozens of other bikes, stacked and thrown against one another haphazardly.
Exits were blocked, aisles were blocked - no one seemed to care. When passengers with bikes needed to get on or off, they would simply throw the other bikes out of the way and the whole thing was like one huge pile of scrap metal.So we held our bikes on our laps again - hugging them ever closer to our bodies as other passengers kept trying to pile their bikes on top of ours (yes, even while we were holding our bikes on our laps!). It was a madhouse and probably violated all sorts of safety regulations. The MBTA clearly needs to have these alleged Bike Coach cars run with more frequency and on a predictable schedule. As we now understand it, the schedule is random and there is no way to time your trip to ensure that you will get a Bike Coach. Sounds improbable, but that's how it is!
Late in the evening, we rode home from the station along mostly empty city streets, recuperating from the train but also satiated from a day of exploring such a beautiful new place by bicycle. We only cycled 30 miles over all, and the point of the trip was mainly to hang out and get to know the area. Next time we will plan for a longer route.The North Shore is a great starting point for long distance touring: While there is no pleasant bicycle route North out of Boston, from Cape Ann we could just continue to cycle along the coast to Maine. Definitely something to consider, despite the less than ideal commuter rail experience.
What is it like to travel on a train with a bike where you live, and do you do it often?
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