Frigatebird!

Another one from my sister's Caribbean cruise. She said that the Magnificent Frigatebirds (Fregata magnificens) followed the ship into port, and that she saw as many as thirty at a time.

These seabirds came well inland (to middle Alabama at least) during some of the recent hurricanes in the gulf. Charles Kennedy, president of the South Alabama Birding Association, spoke recently on Weekend Edition about hurricane birds. (His birdhouses are wonderful, by the way.) There's also an article about post-hurricane birding on the SABA site, here.

This bird is one of my favorites to see in flight. I'm not sure which is more exciting, a Frigatebird or a Swallow-tailed Kite. And a day when you see both is truly spectacular and rare.

Re-shaping Deformed Leather Saddles: Trying the 'Blocking' Technique

Some time ago I acquired a vintage Brooks Colt saddle. The original Colts are pretty rare, so I was excited. Unfortunately the saddle was deformed, sporting a prominent ridge down the center. On top of that, the leather was hard as a rock. The saddle was outrightpainful to ride for more than a few minutes.



To deal with the ridge, I was encouraged to try the blocking technique: soaking the saddle in water to regain its original shape. And I received just as many warnings against trying the blocking technique: The saddle could snap in half or become even more deformed I was told, I could ruin it. So I will preface with a caveat: As I understand it, blocking has a spotty success rate. To be safe, I would suggest trying it only on a saddle that is already ruined and unridable, as mine was.



There are different variations of the method, and the one I initially used was as follows: I soaked the saddle under the faucet, both the surface and the underside, until it was evenly wet. I then wrapped it in a wet towel, wrapped that in a plastic bag and let it sit. Two days later I unwrapped the saddle to check on it and was stunned to discover that, while wet, it was still hard as a rock. The moisture did not seem to be soaking through at all. So I wrapped it back up and left it for an entire week. When I unwrapped it again, the saddle was a bit softer, but the ridge showed no signs of diminishing. I thought that if I left it in there any longer the saddle would start to rot. So I installed it on a trainer bike and tried riding on it, thinking I could now flatten the ridge that way. But it was too painful to ride and it wasn't working. Eventually, I gave up and decided the experiment was unsuccessful. I treated the saddle with a generous dose of Proofide and put it away in a box, not sure what I'd do with it.






Some time later, the Co-Habitant needed a saddle for one of his bike builds and I said he was welcome to give reviving the Colt another try. At this point, our collective memory of what exactly was done is less clear, but we agree that it involved yet more soaking. The way I recall it, this time he left the saddle in a sink filled with water overnight. Possibly more than once. Eventually the saddle did begin to show signs of softening, and when this happened he installed it on his bike and went out riding.




The Co-Habitant weighs over 200lb, and I was worried that this was exactly the sort of situation where a soaked saddle might snap in half. However it did not snap, but began to straighten out under his weight. After a couple of rides and much Proofiding the deep ridge was flattened and now there are only a couple of gentle dimples in the sitbone areas. He says that the Colt is now very comfortable. It certainly looks nice and healthy: The colour is a rich warm chestnut and the surface is much smoother than it had been when I first received the saddle.




As our experience demonstrates, there is no one formula for this and you sort of have to play it by ear. The John Spooner description I linked to earlier suggests stuffing the saddle with newspaper after soaking it, but this did not seem appropriate in our case since the saddle was hardly soft enough even after excessive soaking. In general I'd say see how the leather behaves once you begin, and go from there. Start off conservative as far as water exposure, then get progressively more aggressive if that doesn't work.




All things considered, the Co-Habitant's opinion is that the blocking technique is more trouble than it is worth and he does not recommend it. My opinion is that it really depends on how much you want to rescue that particular saddle, and how prepared you are to potentially ruin it in the process. I am glad that we revived the Colt and now have this beautiful, functional vintage saddle. What has been your experience with blocking or other saddle reshaping techniques?

Apache Plume

Desert bushs that we call Apache Plume were in bloom. The first photo is of the small white flower. The second photo is of the seed pod which gives the plant its name, Plume.

Gunks Routes: MF (5.9)

(Photo: Approaching crux # 1 of MF (5.9) in the fog. Is there a climber up there?)



The weather gods have been joking around with me.



Thanksgiving weekend was stunning. We had record highs, in the sixties and seventies, and abundant sunshine. I had a full agenda of stuff going on. This was joyous, important, family stuff. Stuff that I wouldn't dream of missing, it goes without saying.



So there was no way I could go climbing over this beautiful weekend. But I had to take advantage of the warm-weather window somehow. It was killing me to let it just roll by; this could be our last good climbing weather until next Spring. Surely, I thought, there must be something I could do?



I decided to take a vacation day on Tuesday to go to the Gunks.



The only problem was that it was expected to rain. After reviewing the forecast, I decided to go for it anyway. It was going to be warm, and the rain wasn't supposed to come until the late afternoon. A pretty full day was possible, even likely, I told myself. And the weather report for the following days called for deteriorating conditions: more rain and then colder temperatures. My obsessed mind saw Tuesday as my final chance of the year.



Parker agreed to meet me. We'd climbed together once before, in early summer. Back then we were both leading similar climbs but since that time Parker had been climbing a lot, and it sounded like he'd been ripping it up. I was eager to see what he could do. I told him I wanted to climb MF, one of my big goals for . He wanted to do Amber Waves of Pain (5.10a), which I was really excited about climbing (as a second) as well.



When I got up on Tuesday morning it was pretty gloomy out. During the drive up from the city I grew concerned about how foggy it was. The air felt damp. I worried that the cliffs would be coated in a slick, wet mist. It was an unpleasant experience I'd had before.



Then at the Sloatsburg rest stop, as I stood there pumping gas, I detected rain. Not just wet fog, but actual rain.



I paused to search the sky. Were these really drops of rain, falling from the heavens to the earth?



Yes, it was definitely raining.



It grew heavier as I stood there.



This wasn't supposed to happen! Not until later.



I was furious. I started yelling into the air. "Stop it! Stop raining!"



I'm sure I resembled a crazy person.



I got back in my car and started driving faster than before. I'm not sure why-- was I trying to outrun the rain? I kept hoping it wouldn't be like this in New Paltz.



The rain stopped, thankfully, before I got to Exit 18. I couldn't tell whether the cliffs had seen any precipitation. Actually, I couldn't tell whether the cliffs were even there. They were invisible, hidden by dense fog. This was not a good sign.



As I drove to the stairmaster parking lot I saw that the roads were wet. Also not a good sign. If the roads were wet, the rock was likely wet too.



Upon his arrival at the empty parking lot, Parker remarked that we seemed to be the only idiots intent on climbing. But since we were already at the cliffs, we decided we might as well go see if the rock was, by some miracle, dry.



We went straight up to the Mac Wall to look at MF. Described by Dick Williams as "THE standard for 5.9 in the Gunks," MF has a reputation as a tough climb. (As you might have guessed, the letters in the name stand for "Mother F**ker.") The first pitch has two cruxes, the first coming at an awkward, scary move around a corner, and the second involving some thin moves over a bulge. Pitch two has just one crux: a big roof.



I've been working up to MF all year-- all my climbing life, really. I knew on Tuesday as I stood before the route that this could be my last chance to climb it before the end of the season. But I was scared to try it if the rock was damp. Hell, I was scared to try it, period. Even in perfect conditions. Maybe in this iffy weather it was beyond scary. Maybe it was a stupid idea.



But Parker touched the rock and said he thought we were okay. It seemed dry to him. "Feel it," he said. "There's plenty of friction!"



I wanted this climb. Badly. I put my hand on the rock, and it appeared Parker was right. Even though we were surrounded by mist, the rock felt fine. I decided to do the climb. I could always bail if it started really raining. It's only gear, I figured. Who cares if I leave a piece or two behind? Don't I have a catchphrase that covers this situation?



Yes I do: Carpe Diem, bitches.



I tied in and headed upward.



The early going on pitch one is tricky. There is a steep bit right off the ground, and you have to make a few moves before you get any pro in. Maybe this part of the climb just seemed hard to me because I was a bundle of nerves. The conditions were making me jittery. I stepped off the route, back to the ground, just after I started because the fog suddenly turned to rain. But then in a minute it turned back to fog again.



I went back at it, placing two pieces at the first opportunity.



After the initial moves the pitch jogs left, then back right to the big overhang. I moved slowly, checking each foothold, fearful I'd pop off. I placed a ton of pro. As I approached crux one, it seemed much more intimidating and difficult than it did from the ground. It is steep there. It is pumpy to hold on. You can see the horn thingy that you need to grab as well as the foothold that will bring you around the corner, but it seems kind of improbable that this move will work out well.



On the bright side, the pro is great. There's a pin just where you want it and another piece can be put there to back it up. The fall is clean. The holds are good. You can stand there for a good long while, shaking out each hand in turn as you reflect on the life you've lived, and the leap you're about to take.



I hemmed and hawed there a long time, but in the end I found no real trick to the move. You just have to commit. Grab the horn, get your right foot on that hold, and go. And then it's about balance. Shift slowly to the right foot and keep inching to the right. The holds are further around the corner than you want them to be, but they exist, trust me!





(Photo: Having placed pro, I'm getting ready to move through the bulging crux # 2 on pitch one of MF (5.9).)



I spent even longer hemming and hawing over the second crux. I didn't want to blow it. My flash of MF was within reach, yet still so far away. Luckily there's a good stance below the bulge from which you can think over the moves as much as you like. Again the pro is good. There is a horizontal right below the bulge (quite slimy on Tuesday, but it took a cam), and an irregular pod/handhold up in the bulge in which I managed to seat a solid green Alien. This last placement made me feel really good. I clipped the piece direct and knew if I fell I wouldn't go far.



When I finally went for it the moves were not bad. The holds were small but positive, and before I knew it I had the jugs.



As I hit the chains I was thrilled. It had been a slow lead, a methodical lead, but it had been a successful onsight lead of MF. I was no longer breaking into 5.9. I felt solid in the grade. I couldn't ask for anything more.



Parker started following me up pitch one. I heard him say something about a nut.



"Did I place a crummy nut?" I asked.



"No!" he replied. "I said YOU'RE nuts! I can't believe you did this pitch. The rock feels so slimy!"



So much for Mr. "Go For It, There's Plenty of Friction!"



I tried to remind Parker that his enthusiasm is what got me to climb the route in the first place, but he wasn't accepting the blame. For some reason, he was convinced that I was the crazy one.



I have to say it didn't feel so slimy to me. By the time the pitch was over I'd forgotten all about the weather. I thought the rock was okay, and I really wanted to continue and do pitch two. Parker said if we kept going I'd be leading. He'd led the pitch before and he had no ambition to lead any longer, given the conditions.





(Photo: Examining the roof on pitch two of MF (5.9).)



Pitch two begins with easy moves directly to the right from the bolted anchor, around a small corner. Then it's straight up to the roof. Just beneath the roof is a pin. After clipping the pin I spent a lot of time experimenting and feeling around, trying to find some holds, any holds, that I could use to get up to the obvious horizontal that was out of reach a few feet above the roof.



It's tricky because you can't really see what's just over the roof, and there are no footholds right under the pin. So you paw around over your head, finding nothing. Then you paw around to your left, finding nothing. Then you retreat to the stance to the right of the pin, shake out, and get ready to do it all over again.



I found some really poor crimps around the pin, and kept trying to contrive a way to use them to reach the horizontal over the roof. But it wasn't working out.



After a while I looked at Parker, who was standing just a few feet to my left. I said "I'm about to have you take so I can hang on this stupid pin."



"Dude, your feet are, like, on a ledge," he replied.



"Yeah, but I'm getting frustrated."



I was tired of going back and forth. I wanted to rest and look it over. But just in time I finally found the crucial hold. I'm not going to spoil the details. It makes reaching the horizontal a breeze! And it's hiding right there, in front of your face.



As soon as I had that hold, I stepped right up to the horizontal and clipped the second pin. Then I placed a cam to back it up, even though I was already feeling the pump clock ticking away. Above me I could see the creaky little flake mentioned by Dick in his guidebook. It was the next hold. The path was obvious. It was time to go. A couple quick, pumpy moves and I was through the crux, standing at the big horizontal that heads left. Pitch two was basically in the bag.



Although I really enjoyed the crux, I didn't think the rest of the pitch was nearly as nice. The difficulty level decreases greatly and there's some questionable rock. After traversing left, the pitch follows an obvious corner to the GT Ledge, but it seems numerous other paths can be taken to the finish. It all goes through similar, moderate territory.





(Photo: Parker coming up the final bits of pitch two of MF (5.9).)



Parker reached me on the GT Ledge just as a real storm started to roll in. We could see the rain falling over New Paltz as we set up to rappel and by the time we got to the ground it had reached the cliff. Our climbing day was over after just two pitches.



Ah, but what a pair of pitches.



I realize this particular trip to the Gunks was a waste of a vacation day. I know I've been clinging to summer, to the climbing season. It's been good and I don't want it to end. I probably should have gotten out of bed on Tuesday, looked out the window, and called it off. That would have been the sensible thing to do.



But then I would have missed MF.



And MF I will cherish. It's so nice to have my last climbs of the season confirm that I've made progress. Maybe I'll still be able to squeeze one more milestone into the year. And maybe not. It doesn't matter. It's been a great year either way.

Sunroom Painted

These came out kind of dark but this is the sunroom after we painted it. It is a kind of ivory color called White Shell. It was a bit of a chalange to paint with the help of four cats but we got it done. Now we have to do the celling as you can see in the upper corner of the first photo it is not finished. But first things first and we have outside chores to do first.

Sand Rabbit

One of our resident cottontail rabbits showing how they can hide when they sit still in an open area just because they are so close to being the color of the sand and dirt.

Happy Feet

Today was the first time I felt well enough to ride a roadbike since havinggotten sicklast month. It was only 26 miles, but it felt great to have my full lung capacity and energy back.



Continuing with the Italian theme, I took Francesco - my fixed gear stallion. How happy he was, basking in the precious minutes of sunshine in between thunderstorms.



Riding a fixed gear roadbike is an experience that fills me with a special kind of enjoyment - I think because it combines the sensations of walking and flying (fly-walking?).



I was worried that I might be too out of shape to make it, but I had forgotten how comfortable Francesco is. The 26 miles of pedaling felt like a stroll in the park. Although, I have learned by now that even if I feel "fine" riding fixed gear while I am actually doing it, it does take more out of me than a free-wheel bicycle. I usually sleep longer after such a ride, and sometimes I am sore the following day.



One thing that has improved my comfort level with fixed gear cycling considerably, are these "fixie" Power Grips. I wrote about the standard Power Grips here, and since my initial review I have become addicted to these things. The fixed gear version differs from the standard model, in that it makes it easier to insert and remove your feet while pedals are in motion. I cannot tell what it is about the design that makes this possible, but none the less it seems to work. I insert my right toe at the starting position and start cycling slowly while nudging the left pedal with my left toe - then swiftly insert the toe into the left grip on the first stroke. After some practice this became a familiar and instinctive sequence of movements - though it definitely helped that I was already comfortable using this system on a free-wheel bike prior to trying it on a fixed gear.



Now that I am able to use foot retention on this bicycle, I am no longer apprehensive about cycling over bumps and potholes or going downhill at high speeds. The experience is pretty much perfect and very enjoyable. One thing in particular I have noticed, is how easy it is for me to ride "in the drops" - Francesco almost seems more stable when the handlebars are held this way than higher up. Is that possible?



And another interesting thing: I find it much, much easier to get out of the saddle and pedal standing up on Francesco than I do on my other bicycles. Is it the fixed-gearness that is facilitating this or the geometry? As I've mentioned before, I have a terrible sense of balance, and that is what I believe normally prevents me from pedaling while standing up. But on this bicycle, it seems not to matter.



It rained on and off for the duration of our ride, and the colourful leaves strewn over the trail turned into a mess of a slippery carpet. Was I so excited to be riding Francesco that I began to imagine things, or is it easier to ride in slippery conditions on a fixed gear bike? I have read comments about traction before, but I admit that I don't understand them. Could somebody explain it in layman's terms?



As I prepare for some more pruning of my bicycle overgrowth, it is clear to me that I "need" a fixed gear roadbike. So while I am now considering selling my Trek- which has been fun, but not essential - I will definitely be keeping the Francesco Moser.



In the long run, however - maybe a couple of years from now - I will probably want to replace it with a "real" fixed gear bicycle. Mainly, this is because the Moser's bottom bracket is not as high as it should be - and even though my lean on turns is not aggressive enough to warrant worrying about pedal strike yet, it would be better if this wasn't even a potential issue.



But for now,Francesco is my dashing Italian gentleman and I thank him for my happy feet.