Flying with a websuit

You'd never, never find me doing this!


wingsuit base jumping from Ali on Vimeo.

Scrabble at Christmas!

Ahem - I won by 40 points, even beating Sparky and Jim. A rare, rare occurrence, so it needs to be noted.

More importantly, we all had a grand time together.

snow, snow, snow

Such untypical weather for Walla Walla!


My feet are not even touching the deck. 22 inches of snow, at least.

Interesting Quote

I found this on the back of an Honest Tea label:

A lot of people run a race to see who is fastest. I run a race to see who has the most guts." - Steve Prefontaine,

For those of you too young to remember, Steve Prefontaine was a great distance runner from Coos Bay, Oregon, who died tragically in a car wreck.

Election Emotions

I have a hard time putting into words what I feel after the presidential election. I am lighter of heart and there is a bounce in my stride. I grew up during the turmoil of the sixties and the civil-rights movement, and the election of an African American as president of the United States is something that I had long hoped for but could not be sure would happen during my lifetime until last night.

Merchants has a sign outside today which tweaked my fancy:

MISSION ACCOMPLISHED!

There was also this quote on my list-serve today:


"A little patience, and we shall see the reign of witches pass over, their spells dissolve, and the people, recovering their true sight, restore their government to its true principles. It is true that in the meantime we are suffering deeply in spirit, and incurring the horrors of a war and long oppressions of enormous public debt......If the game runs sometimes against us at home we must have patience till luck turns, and then we shall have an opportunity of winning back the principles we have lost, for this is a game where principles are at stake."

Thomas Jefferson, 1798, after the passage of the Sedition Act

San Francisco Images

So, why am I smiling? Because I'd just had the perfect cappuccino - or one of them. See below:


I'd always heard that the streets in San Francisco were steep, but until I was there I had no clue how steep that really got. Here is a picture taken on the street beside our hotel. Jim figured that it was about a 20% grade. No camera magic here.


That same hill, viewed from the bottom. Of course, if your hotel is at the top, you have to get up there:



Ever wonder how the cable cars turn around? The don't just put it in reverse. At either end of their "run" there is a turntable. They glide into the turntable, then the cable car "grips" climb out and push it around like this:



When it gets all the way around, then they turn the peg so that it won't move farther, and then go the other direction.

Day 4: Top of the Mark to the Golden Gate

Jim thought that his class did not include breakfast today, so he suggested that we eat at the hotel instead of trying to catch the unreliable cable cars to breakfast, as he had to be in class at 8. We inquired at the desk, hoping for a coffee shop, but their only restaurant is the Top of the Mark (as in Mark Hopkins hotel). By this time it was too nearly 7, so we decided to try it. The view, with the sun coming up, was spectacular from the 15th floor on the top of Nob Hill. So was the price of the buffet breakfast.
The variety was amazing, from sauteed mushrooms to smoked salmon, cheeses, fruit smoothies and about 40 other dishes. Jim looked down at his plate, and said “gee, it’s just like breakfast at home except for the smoked salmon, fresh berries, brie, sauteed mushrooms, and...”.
After Jim was off to his class, I trotted off the museum. I had planned to go to the Museum of Modern Art, but alas, it was closed on Wednesdays. So I substituted the Asian Art Museum instead, which was amazing in its own right. I had looked at the map, so I trotted down the hill towards Market Street. I didn’t realize that my chosen route took me through a rather run-down part of town, but kept my head down and didn’t have any problems. I was delighted to find that there was a huge Farmers’ Market at the United Nations Plaza - “The Farmers Market at the Heart of the City.”
I was a few minutes early for the museum to open, so I wandered through the plaza in front of City Hall. This was the Civic Center, so opposite the museum was City Hall, the opera house and the United Nations Plaza, where the original charter for the U.N. was signed.
The City Hall plaza had a demonstration garden for organic home Victory Gardens. There were also a number of people doing Tai Chi in the plaza.
I went over to the museum about five minutes before it was to open, and was standing with a couple of other ladies. Another woman came up to the doors and began to pound on them and scream that she was late for her private tour. She persisted, going from door to door, and finally started to curse. The French woman standing next to me said, “I thought only in France such people existed!” We chuckled, and wondered what the fuss was, as the agitated lady was 25 minutes late for her tour - what difference would five minutes make?
There was a special exhibit from the Afghanistan National Museum, so I joined the docent-led tour. The docents have to go through 3 ½ years of training, plus special training for new exhibits such as this one. All this to volunteer for free!
The exhibit was fascinating. The artifacts had been hidden by Afghans who wished to preserve their heritage during the years of the Soviet invasion and during the Taliban years. Because of its location on the silk road, these artifacts from up to 3,000 years ago showed the diverse nature of trade. There was Roman glass manufactured in Egypt, Buddha figurines, and an excavation of tombs of nomads from the north of Afghanistan. The people were buried with their golden jewelry, crowns, belts, cups and other items.
I then took the audio tour of the museum.
After the museum I hit the Farmers Market for lunch. I looked for the longest line, which was at the Tamale cart, and had delicious and cheap tamales. There was fruit of every description as well, and I sampled fresh strawberries.
I trekked back to the hotel over a longer but less shabby route, and flopped on the bed to let my tired feet recover.
Golden Gate Bridge
Jim really wanted to see the Golden Gate, so he asked the concierge for the bus connections. It wasn’t very hard, even for us. There was a sad, mentally ill man who got on the bus for a while; he was thin and short, and he was holding up a pair of pants big enough to fit Jim. As he got off, the pants drooped to reveal his bum. He also was in stocking feet. So sad.
We got the bridge, and of course it was foggy, even though it had been clear as a bell at the hotel. We wandered around the end of the bridge, and watched the cyclists going across on the bike lane. Many of them were obviously commuters, with backpacks or panniers, but a number looked like racers.
Finally it cleared, and we saw almost all of the bridge. The cables were huge.

Tuesday, Day 3, In which our heroine stalks the City

Today Jim’s conference began, the ostensible reason for our trip. While he is off learning about from “Hospital to Home,” I was out and about. Monte and Sue had gotten me a ticket to the Alcatraz boat and tour for my birthday. I didn’t need to be at Pier 39 until 10:30, so I had time on my hands from when Jim went down to the “welcome breakfast” for his conference at 7.
First, a word about cyclists in the city. They are brave souls, braving steep hills and heavy traffic. Most amazing to me, however, given the hills and traffic, is that quite a number of them are riding “fixe” (fixed gear bikes). These bikes have only one gear, and you must pedal as fast as the wheels are turning. If you are going quickly down a steep hill, your legs are a blur. If you are going uphill, remember that you only have one gear. A number of the fixies that I’ve seen had no brakes at all. The rider slows, among other ways, by putting one of his feet on the rear wheel and braking in that way. I chatted with one of the riders who had a brake, and asked how he managed climbing the hills, and he said modestly that he could manage most of them. Whereupon he took off up Bush Street at pretty good clip, with only a 10 or 12% grade.
I walked down to Roxanne Café for breakfast and ventured into the french toast side of the menu. In between two layers of french toast was a mixture of blueberries and cream cheese. Hmm.
I then trekked all the way to the Pier for my Alcatraz excursion, with a stop at the Tuesday Farmers Market at the Ferry Landing. There are Farmers Markets on Tuesday and Saturday there. I bought some delicious dried nectarines, and a bun at the bakery, to tide me over during my prison time.
I got to the Pier an hour early, and they let me take that boat. The morning was somewhat foggy, but not windy. The “Rock” loomed closer, and then we docked. There was a sign at the dock, left over from its prison days, about not landing unauthorized or you would be imprisoned. It also said “Welcome Indians.”
I hadn’t realized that Alcatraz is part of a National Park. I joined a tour guided by a park ranger, and he explained the strategic importance of the island, due to its location at the mouth of San Francisco Bay. The U.S. Army realized its importance just before the Civil War, and built a fort there. In its original state, Alcatraz was dome shaped. The ranger explained that every flat surface and road had been chipped out of the sandstone, mostly by hand.
The original fort had been designed to withstand cannon balls. The brick mason earned $10 per day, at a time when an army private earned $7.50 per month. The skill of the brick mason was evident, especially when he pointed out a portion to the side which had been done by forced labor a few years later.
Every army fort had its jail, and the one at Alcatraz was expanded during the Civil War. Although California had entered the Union as a non-slave state, some of the soldiers stationed there were from the south. So when there were Confederate victories, and those southern soldiers did some celebrating (shooting off their weapons and drinking), the general at the Presidio by the Golden Gate ordered that they be shipped to Alcatraz, and the “traitorous nature” of their feelings be sweated out of them by breaking rock with a sledgehammer. It took some two years of forced labor for the parade grounds to be leveled.
Eventually, Alcatraz became the prison for all of the Army, due to its hard to escape location. It didn’t become a federal prison until around 1930, and was only a prison until 1963.
After the ranger tour, I got my headphones for the audio tour. The recorded tour guides you through the complex in any of around 10 languages. It takes you from place to place, telling you about the life there and some of the more well known convicts. It held less than 300 convicts at a time, but it held the “worst of the worst.” The say was: “Break the law, and you went to prison; break the prison rules and you went to Alcatraz.”
The isolation cells were especially chilling, as you were put in them without any light at all. To keep from going crazy, men would do a variety of things, such as take a button off their shirt, and then crawl around looking for it. When he found the button, he’d throw it again, and then feel for it.
Some of the prisoners took up hobbies, including crocheting. Anything to pass the time. They could also hear the fireworks in the city on New Year’s Eve, and the city itself looked so achingly close. If the wind was right, they could hear the sounds of people in the city.
The most dangerous time of the day was when all of the convicts were in the dining hall together for each of the three meals. There were canisters of tear gas on the ceiling which could be set off if there was a riot.
Surprisingly to me, there were families of the guards which lived in quarters on one half of the island. Some of the voices on the audio tour were those of children who grew up there.
After the tour was done, I continued with my café tour of San Francisco. This time I was off to try the Café Trieste in the Italian neighborhood called North Beach. It didn’t look far on the map; just six blocks. Four of those blocks were nearly vertical, but by the time I realized that I was halfway up the hill. Then there were two blocks down the other side.
The walk was worth it, as lunch was a foccacia pizza, plum cake and another superb cappuccino. They roast their own coffee, so I bought a pound.
Then I walked towards the visible landmark of the TransAmerica Tower, and when I hit a familiar sounding street near the tower, I turned up that hill. Eventually my tired legs hauled me up to the hotel, where I sprawled out flat on the bed and rested my aching feet.
All in all I covered a lot of ground. I hope that Jim’s conference was interesting.
Dinner: Chinatown. After consulting with the guidebook, we decided to take another run at eating in Chinatown. This place was fancier and aimed more towards the tourist trade. We opened the vast menu, to be confronted with choices like “sea cucumber,” “frogs legs with xo sauce” and “duck tongue.” Hmm...time to take the combination dinner C. It did include lobster with a sauce, and a strange sweet and sour soup which neither of us ate, but the rest was comfortingly familiar dishes such as broccoli with beef and fried rice. The facial expressions on the faces of the tourist family next to us made us feel very sophisticated and at home. The teenage daughter frowned and made an expression which said “ewww” every time that she turned a page of the menu. Her parents were more restrained, at least until their food came. Mom’s face showed that she was definitely not enjoying the food.

Country Mice in the City, Day 2

The perfect capuccino, Part 2 (breakfast edition) Just to make sure that the capuccino at Roxanne’s café was perfect, we hit it for breakfast. Take two was just as good as the first sample. Breakfast was a seafood omelette for Jim, and Jake’s scramble for me (spinach, bacon, provolone cheese, tomatoes and fresh salsa). Aaah, how I love San Francisco.

Telegraph Hill and Coit Tower. After a bit of wandering, we found bus #39 heading up to Coit Tower on Telegraph Hill. The route snaked through North Beach, which was instantly recognizable by the Italian flags painted on all of the light-poles. The Tower itself commanded an astounding view, diminished only by the slightly hazy conditions. We were the only native English speakers at the top; I recognized Japanese, German, French and Italian. There were a couple of other languages I wasn’t so sure about.
At the bottom of the Tower on the inside are Murals painted by artists as one of the Depression era government work projects. They were suggested by Diego Rivera, and were done in fresco. The subjects were the people of San Francisco and California: sailors, cops, robbers, dairymen, bakers, newspapermen, librarians, truckers, workers of all sorts. There were some very sly pokes at the Establishment. For instance, in the library corner a man was taking Karl Marx’s “Das Kapital” off of the bookshelf while winking slyly at you, and people were reading newspapers with headlines about the dedication of the Tower and the controversial murals.
As soon as we stepped outside at the bottom after paying for and taking the $5 elevator ride to the top, the haze was instantly gone and the sky was clear. We still could get some good shots, but not quite as spectacular as from the top.

Municipal Trolley Line, There are antique electric trolleys which run along the waterfront, and are quite different from the more famous cable cars.

Ferry Terminal and Farmers Market (upscale). This is sort of like Seattle’s Pike Place Market, but the Gucci version. There was the Mushroom shop, the Caviar shop, a bakery with astounding foccacia, Japanese delicatessen, and Frog Hollow Farms. Plus a kitchen shop, wherein I lost control of Jim. At least he didn’t but the $5,000 espresso machine or the 8 burner gas stove that cost I more than my mortgage payments for a year. Let’s just say that he spent enough that we got a free subscription to Bon Appetite magazine.


A beatnik café. In North Beach there was a café that our guidebook said had been where the “Beat” poets of the 1950's had gathered. They had outstanding espresso and pizza, plus pictures of famous folk who had eaten there over the years. The bathroom had a sloping ceiling that even I had to stoop for. I’m not quite sure how Jim managed.

Los Gringos on de bus. From the café we caught a city bus that was going downtown. I believe that we were the only people-not-of-color there...and couldn’t understand any of the multiple languages being spoken. What an amazingly diverse city.

Chinatown Tea Shop. I had asked the concierge at our hotel for the name of a tea-shop, and he gave me two. The walls were lined with tins from all over Asia. The oolong teas were labled by the mountain on which they were grown. The clerk explained that the higher the mountain, the slower the tea grew, and the better the flavor. I might add that the higher the mountain the higher the price. By the time she led me through tasting several, let’s just say that I was pretty even with Jim for the kitchenware shop earlier in the day.

When we got ready to go from there the three blocks up the hill to our hotel it was after 5 and the cable cars were jammed. When the second one came I shoved Jim and said, run for it. I started trudging up the 3 blocks of hill with the bags. I found those blocks to be much longer than they looked; I swear that each block was another mile uphill. My glutes and hamstrings complained mightily...it turned out that there were several spots to sit inside, so I hiked needlessly. Buns of steel will be my reward.

Toto: we're not in Walla Walla Anymore

Day 1: the perfect cappuccino

On Saturday we arrived in San Francisco at mid-day. By the time that we got our bags, rode BART downtown, and took a taxi up to our hotel the Mark Hopkins, it was after 2. We asked the bellhop for recommendations for lunch, and thought we would walk the 3 blocks to his first pair of suggestions. We didn’t realize the steep nature of two of those down-hill blocks. It was like climbing down a mountain without crampons.

But first, the bell-hop. We get up to the room, and he inquires as to where we’re from. We reply Walla Walla, and he says, “oh, isn’t that in the eastern half of the state?” Yes, we said. He inquires about the political makeup of eastern Washington, and also asks which presidential candidate we think will take Washington. We said we thought Obama. Then he talks about how he wanted to go to Seattle next summer, but the tickets for the “Ring” (Wagner’s 22 hour epic) were a thousand dollars. Jim pointed out that if you figured it on an hourly basis, it wasn’t nearly as expensive. A five minute conversation with one of the most erudite people you would ever hope to meet.

His suggestion, the Café Ramona was an Italian café, a small corner spot with only about twelve to fifteen tables. The staff in the kitchen were actually speaking in Italian, and I had the very best cappuccino ever. This was followed by penne pasta with gorgonzola and prosciutto and basil. Jim had linguine with clams. Sigh. At this point I was already planning our next trip to San Francisco.
We went back to the room, and despite that double shot, I fell asleep for an hour and a half. Jim, however, slept at least two hours. I do believe that we were tired.
Dinner was a few blocks away in Chinatown. There was something in the “mixed seafood” dish that didn’t sit at all well, and started to do bad things to my gut. Even Jim left it. But the barbecued duck and fried rice made up for it.
The first few blocks in Chinatown were filled with a mixture of kitsch. and items too expensive to even ask what their price-tag was. We figured that since there were no prices on the jade carvings that we couldn’t afford them.


Day 2: Sears Fine Foods and Fishermans Wharf.

Aided by our son-in-law’s travel guide, Streetwise San Francisco, we made our way via cable car to Sears Fine Food. There was a line, but it moved quickly, and once inside we discovered why there was a line outside.
The sign said that it had been there since the early 1930's, and instead of being “faux” vintage, it was actually vintage, with the tiny octagonal tiles and old wood-work. The food showed why they were still in business all these years later. The wait-staff was superb, and the food arrived quickly and was worth the trip. In addition, there was a bookstore next door. Couldn't pass that up, could we?
We walked around Union Square, looking in the window at Tiffany’s, waltzing through Williams Sonoma, and enjoying the park in the square itself. The square was named for the rallies in favor of the Union, versus the Confederacy, during the Civil War era, and the rallies resulted in California entering as a State of the Union.
We went to Fisherman’s Wharf next via two cable car lines. We passed Lombard Street, with a posted 5 miles per hour speed limit. The wharf was divided between touristy places for the vast majority of us, and the more upscale Ghiradelli Square.
On the wharf we sampled some Boudin’s San Francisco sourdough, and had cioppino in a sourdough bread boule down the street. As taxpayers we felt a direct benefit by using the rest-rooms at the San Francisco Waterfront National Park on more than one occasion.
The hills here vary from steep to insanely steep. Now we’ve figured out that it’s better to walk a block uphill and catch a trolley than walk down.
That’s it for now. More to come, along with pictures!

5 reasons to bike your drive

Courtesy of REI:

Biking Facts: Did You Know?

5 reasons to bike your drive

1. The average person loses 13 pounds their first year of commuting by bike.
2. 40% of all car trips in the U.S. are made within 2 miles of home.
3. 60% of the pollution created by autos happens in the first few minutes of operation, before pollution control devices can work effectively.
4. Just 3 hours of biking per week can reduce your risk of heart disease and stroke by 50%.
5. The U.S. could save 462 million gallons of gas a year by boosting bicycle trips just half a percentage point: from 1% to 1.5% of all trips.

Information courtesy of Trek Bicycle Corporation.

Bike Issues on the Ballot

I received the following from Cascade Bicycle Club regarding bike-related issues on the ballot. Beware of another Tim Eyman initiative, I-985:

While the fight for the presidency grabs the headlines, there are urgent local measures that impact you as a cyclist on this year’s ballot. We recognize that you make your voting decisions based on a variety of factors. Our board of directors has carefully evaluated candidates and ballot measures. We asked how they would affect our environment, our neighborhoods, and, most important, our safety as bicyclists.

Washington can leap forward toward or greatly regress from our goal of creating better communities for bicycling. Cascade Bicycle Club makes the following endorsements:

I-985 - Vote NO WAY

This Tim Eyman proposal is not a serious proposal to fix our roads - it’s a disaster. I-985 would strip away funding for sidewalks and bicycles facilities for new roadways. If it passes, it will deal a devastating blow to pedestrians and people who ride bicycles.

Friday Morning ride

One of the pluses of riding at 6 in the morning at this time of year is getting to see some great sunrises.




One of the minuses is that you have to bundle up like the Michelin Man/Person/whatever. Here we are at the top of 5 mile hill. As you can see, I look fantastic. That's because I've passed my maximum heart rate chasing them up the hill.

Legislatively speaking

I've been asked to be on the Bicycle Alliance's State Legislative committee. One of their main legislative goals for this year is to get an additional definition added to the Safe Passing law; a 3 foot mandatory margin for vehicles passing bikes traveling the same direction as the vehicle.

As the law reads now, vehicles are to pass at a "safe distance." The 3 foot mandatory distance gives a definition for what the minimum for "safe" is. Wisconsin has had the 3 foot safe distance for about 15 years, and it has been quite successful there, and popular with law enforcement officers by giving them an exact definition.

Hopefully we'll be successful in this and other legislation.

Memories matter

When I am at Starbucks, I was always read the quotations on the cups. On our recent trip to Canada, there was a quote which struck both Jim and I as the way we want to live our lives:

The way we get to live forever is through memories stored in the hearts and souls of those whose lives we touch. That’s our soul print. It’s our comfort, our emotional nourishment at the end of the day and the end of a life. How wonderful that they are called up at will and savored randomly. It seems to be we should spend our lives in a conscious state of creating these meaningful moments that live on. Memories matter.
- Leeza Gibbons

Bikes: Risks and Rights

On the 21st, I had the privilege of making a presentation at a CLE (continuing legal education - attorneys in Washington have to get 45 credits in 3 years to keep our license). The topic that I was assigned to present, along with another "cycling" attorney, was "Bicycles: Risks and Rights."

I'd put a lot of time into preparing, and also into learning enough to make my very first Power Point presentation (thanks Sparky!).

The day before the CLE, I drove to Tacoma. I'd booked a hotel a block from the convention center where I was to speak, the Hotel Murano. It had stunning art glass, not only in the lobby but as you got off the elevator on each floor. As you got off at your floor there was a museum-like exhibit of a piece, plus an explanation of how it was made and comments from the artist. Its location is just a short distance from the Chihully Glass Museum, which, alas, I did not have the opportunity to take in. As a plus, it was $80 cheaper than the Marriott, which was across the street from the convention center.

Sparky drove down the evening before, and took me out for a superb dinner at the El Gaucho steak house. Fabulous conversation, and the food wasn't bad either.

The title of the CLE was "Planes, Trains, Automobiles and More!" I think that I was the "more" with my bike presentation. The speakers who did plane crashes and trains talked about spending up to $500,000 in costs to bring a case to trial. Obviously, some of the heavy hitters of the Washington plaintiff's bar.

However, my co-presenter John Duggan and I had knowledge that they didn't about bike law - such as, that a cyclist hit by a car can access the medical payments coverage (PIP) of the car.

The lead-in to my portion was talking about what happened when Ann was killed, which is always hard, but personalized what I went on to talk about with the safe passing law. I began my talk: "On Mother's Day, 2004, I became an evangelist for bicycling safety." I then showed a picture of Ann cycling, and went on from there to talk about what had happened that day, the changes brought about with the Safe Passing law and other parts of bike law and rights in Washington.

Comments were favorable; one of the other speakers said that I should have gotten a medal for what I'd done - I said that wasn't why I did it, that it was something I've been called to do in life. He said he knew, but admired me for choosing to put myself on the line.

After the seminar was finished, I drove down to Longview, and spent the night at Wendy & Josh's. Wendy was our first "extra" kid, and Josh might as well have lived at our house.... It was great to catch up with them a bit.

All in all, a stretching experience.

Bathroom resurrection & Deck Fini`

I love this shot of the light switch hanging down and the shower pipes sticking up.




The master bath is undergoing remodeling. The remodeling is forced by the leak in the shower. The leak went into the floor and wall. However, we finally get to remodel the bathroom so that the master suite is now separated from the family room. Observe the chaos above.

The deck, on the other hand, is finally finished, and we ate on it several times this week. Well, the railings aren't up, but that doesn't matter to me! Hooray!

Gravel 101

*
I've been intrigued by RJ's ability to ride gravel roads on her road bike, so when we went for a road ride yesterday, we did a little "Gravel 101" on a fairly level bit of road off of Hood road.
Her instructions consisted of:
1. "Just remember - you have to keep going to keep going - so keep pedaling no matter what."
2. "Keep it in a low gear so that you can keep pedaling."

So, we took off, RJ in the lead and me following a safe distance behind. I just kept telling myself to follow her path, and if she could do it, I could do it. I kept r-r-r-r-r-epeating this mantra as we hit some washboard. Still upright and going forward.

After a half a million miles or so, she stopped short of a hill. Well, perhaps a half mile? All was well and intact, so she suggested that we turn around to keep the experience positive. Got home entirely intact.

Today, we went for another ride, and when RJ needed to turn around to get to work, I kept going and turned right onto Foster Road, and went a mile on the gravel. This was beginning to have that bicycle adventure feel to it, something I've not had enough of of late, and brought a grin to my face. I started to get hungry, though, and as I hadn't brought any food along I thought the best part of valor was to turn around. As I started to go downhill, I began to bounce so hard on the washboard that I stopped, positive that I had a flat. Nope, just loose fillings!

I'm looking forward to more adventures and more lessons from "Coach" Jensen. :)


*Picture is actually not where we rode, but is there for mere thematic background.

I been workin' on the hallway, all the livelong day!

Well, actually the weekend. The previous owners of the house had put linoleum over the hardwood floors in the hallway. Horrors!

I'd always wanted to remove it, so now I finally have. Of course the hallway really needs to be refinished, which will be done after I get the last carpet-covered room unveiled: the living room.



An anaerobic workout, to be sure!

Timely - or historic?

While researching for a CLE (continuing legal education) presentation on bicycle law and claims, I found this law in Washington state:

47.26.300 Bicycle routes ‑‑ Legislative declaration.

The state of Washington is confronted with emergency shortages of energy sources utilized for the transportation of its citizens and must seek alternative methods of providing public mobility.

Bicycles are suitable for many transportation purposes, and are pollution‑free in addition to using a minimal amount of resources and energy. However, the increased use of bicycles for both transportation and recreation has led to an increase in both fatal and nonfatal injuries to bicyclists.

The legislature therefore finds that the establishment, improvement, and upgrading of bicycle routes is necessary to promote public mobility, conserve energy, and provide for the safety of the bicycling and motoring public.

This could have been written this week, given the news that Governor Gregoire is currently considering a 4 day work-week for state employees.

When did the legislature pass this law?

In 1974, during the Arab oil embargo. Think what our state might be like if we had acted on this measure consistently in the 34 years since it was passed.

Spring Creek

Slight grade, slightly steep, steeper, then just plain steep - that's how I describe the 4 mile climb up Spring creek. It's a "must do" at least once a year. Sunday was that day. Here I am at the very beginning of the climb, hot, but not yet in pain.



Tied to a post at the the top is one of the purple "Ann Ribbons" which area cyclists have placed at favorite local bike ride spots in her memory. As I was riding her bike that day, I thought this was a particularly appropriate shot.



Here's the view from the end of the pavement (the gravel continues, steeply, for about another mile). I'm not sure if this photo does the percentage grade justice, but let me tell you, those last couple of hundred yards just plain hurt, even with a tailwind.



Will I do it again? You bet! I may be slow, but I love to climb and look down at how far I've come.

Couse de Creek

Saturday was a fine day for a ride, except for the blustery headwind. I successfully tucked into the pack in the ride south into the wind. All was well until we hit the hills up Couse Creek, at which time Leslie and I popped out of the shelter of the pack and into the wind. The rolling climb is about four miles, and there were tumbleweeds bouncing along in the roadway from the east. I think that they were caught in a vortex with the cliff-face, as there are NO tumbleweeds which grow to the east side of this road.

On the way down we were flying in small groups. A tumbleweed popped in front of me; I stopped pedaling for a second, but knew there was no way to swerve, so I just plowed on through it. Part of it was thrown into Tim's front wheel behind me, although I didn't know it of course.

When he took his pull in front, he tossed a small tumbleweed branch over his shoulder at me. After the hill leveled out, we grinned and chatted about it.

This reminded me of the kind of relationship that we have with our "biker buddies." At the funeral meal for family and friend’s after Ann’s memorial service, the husband of one of Ann’s co-teachers came up to me. He explained that he was a mountain climber, and he had listened to my eulogy. He said that the relationship that one has with companions in sports such as climbing or biking is a degree of trust and intimacy that you have with no one else, not even members of your own family. This results in the close relationships that are formed with trusted companions, such as friends with whom you have ridden with and suffered through many adventures. You have to trust that person riding in front of you to warn you of hazards, to ride in a predictable way, in a way that you trust no one else. I am privileged to have such good friends in cycling. That's one of the reasons that I bike.

More STP pictures

Jon took this shot of me as we were getting ready at 4:45 a.m. Notice that I am smiling.



This is somewhere around mile 130 or so, another Jon pic. My hairdo was appreciated by all. I told them that I had been working hard on it all day.




Note that I am still smiling.

Here is Charles. Note the similarity in the hairdo:

New Loads Possible!

Two days ago I got some new panniers, made by Axiom, for my commuter. They are actually dry bags, and seem to be completely waterproof. So far I've been very pleased. They have considerably expanded my carrying capacity as well.

Here is a bunch of Jim's old uniforms, which I was taking to Goodwill because he no longer wears uniforms in his new job as Care Manager:



Then I packed them into my new bag along with a pair of my daughters old shoes:



Now they're on my bike, ready to drop off at Goodwill on my commute to work:


Mission accomplished!

Bicycle Mania

Here is a great video from the CBS morning news which talks how bicycling and bikes are being viewed differently by the American public, everything from supported bike touring to bicycle commuting. The text is as follows:
(CBS) "Pedal Power" is coming into its own these days, as Americans of all ages are coming to realize biking can be practical, economical, and good clean fun - or should we say, good GREEN fun? Our Cover Story takes us from California to Cambridge, and is reported by Serena Altschul:

---

"Learn to ride a bicycle," Mark Twain once wrote. "You will not regret it if you live."

On a cool Summer morning, a dozen bicyclists are living the good life on two wheels. Their backroads tour out of Sonoma, Calif., takes them through wine country.

"There's really no better way to see something, to see a place really well than by biking," said one rider. "You're presented with the smells and sounds of nature. For me, this is a very Zen ,relaxing thing."

Relaxing, and refreshing.

Today's ride of about 40 miles is new for some ("I actually am not a big biker<' admits one), and for others, it's just another day. "We ride about 5,000 miles a year," one couple said. "A hundred miles a week." A coast away, at the Bicycle Riding School in Somerville, Mass., a drama is unfolding as Sue Ghezzi and three other students are about to take the saddle for the very first time. "Isn't that a shock - I've never ridden before," she said. "I grew up in New York City and I probably didn't see a bike until I was a teenager." Instructor Susan McLucas tells one of her students, "You're going to go wherever the bike wants. Surrender to the bike. The bike is the master." "All of them think they're the only one," said McLucas.

Over the past 25 years, she has taught 2,000 grownups to keep their balance.

"I feel like I'm kind of doing half-therapy, half-bicycle riding teaching."

"I hope you're capturing all the terror in my face!" laughs one novice.

Teacher or therapist, Susan gets the same result.

"It feels good, it feels really good," said Imelda.

And that's been the idea right from the start, though the earliest versions of the bicycle back in the early 19th century weren't nearly as comfortable. Foot-powered, then pedaled on a big front wheel, the bicycle became the machine we know today by the 1880s - "A pretty extraordinary device," is how president Andy Clarke of the League of American Bicyclists describes it.

"It led to all kinds of innovations that we take for granted, both in the bicycling world, but also in the world of the automobile: suspension, pneumatic tires, gearing systems, braking, all of which really got their start with the bicycle."

It was also a social force.

"What the bicycle offered was a kind of liberation in terms of movement, an independent, affordable means of transportation," Clarke said.

Especially for women. Suffragette Susan B. Anthony wrote that the bicycle "has done more to emancipate women than anything else in the world." She called it "the freedom machine."

With gas prices now more than four dollars a gallon, for some the bicycle today is turning into a different kind of freedom machine. Not long ago, just down the road from the Bicycle Riding School, Julian Richards embarked on a first of his own - as a bicycle commuter.

By cycling to work each day, Richards estimates he could save up to $5,000 a year.

"So you're saving money," Altschul said. "Are there any other noticeable benefits for you?"

"Absolutely. I don't mind telling you that I've dropped 10 pounds in 2 months."

At Landry's Bicycles in Boston, they say it's becoming a familiar story.

"We've absolutely seen the price of gas affect bicycle sales," said manager Mark Vatour. "You know at Landry's we've seen bikes used for transportation. Sales have increased 70 percent."

Bicycle stores across the country are reporting the same thing.

Yet nationally, fewer than one percent of Americans commute to work by bike. The problem for these new commuters is where to ride safely.

Boston, like hundreds of communities across the country, has miles of bike paths. Still, when it comes to cycling in the central city, "It's definitely challenging," said David Watson, the executive director of the Massachusetts Bicycle Coalition. "I wouldn't recommend that an inexperienced cyclist just dive into commuting in Boston traffic."

He says Boston is at the very beginning of improving its infrastructure for cycling.

Several cities like San Francisco, Chicago and Minneapolis are known for their bicycle facilities. But the one that's farthest down the road in making itself bike friendly is Portland, Oregon.

Mayor-elect Sam Adams is Portland's transportation commissioner. He'll soon preside over the country's biggest bicycling success story.

Remember, less than one percent of Americans cycle for transportation, but here in Portland, that number reaches six percent, and as high as 15 percent in some neighborhoods.

At Clever Cycles, Portlanders can even buy the bike equivalent of an SUV. One model can carry a thousand pounds.

Spend a little time in Portland, and you'll soon be struck by not just the number of bikers, but their variety.

The mayor-elect, whom everyone here calls Sam, rode to victory on a bicycle platform. He's probably posed with more bikes than babies.

(CBS)

Altschul took a ride with him to see what makes Portland different.

"We've seen, you know, nearly 150% increase in the last 10 years of trips made by bikes, especially in the central city," Adams told her. "And it makes me proud because, you know, imagine all the smog we're not producing with these bikes trips. Imagine all the health improvements."

Fifteen years ago, Portland looked to European cities like Copenhagen and Amsterdam, where more than a quarter of all trips are taken by bike, for inspiration.

Mia Birk was Portland's first bike coordinator: "We developed a bike plan, we developed a bikeway network and we started building it so that people really could be able to bicycle for their daily transportation needs."

She says that behind the city's 300-mile bike network is a new philosophy: "Driving has been a part of our culture for a hundred years now, and is such a predominant part of our culture that we don't even recognize it. People think that's just the way to get around."

Portland has added the bicycle into the mix.

"It's just the way we get around," Birk said. "It's just what we do."

Dan Kaufman has taken that message to heart. When this work-at-home dad needs to pick up his son from dance class, he puts his family on what he calls the "bike train" … for a 12-mile ride.

(CBS)

"And are there a lot of families like you guys that do this that you're aware?" Altschul asked.

"Oh yeah, this is not a big deal," Kaufman said.

"Totally normal?"

"Totally. This is, in Portland. There's people who, I don't consider myself 'uber' at all."

"How does your wife feel about the bike train and you guys being out on the road so much?" Altschul said.

"She wasn't too thrilled at first," he said. "And I definitely ride very defensively. I mean, this is my family here."

Still, even in this biking nirvana, accidents happen. Last October, Portland was jolted by the deaths of two cyclists.

"And you know, how do you get over that?" Adams said. "Respond very decisively, and in a smart way."

(CBS)

As a result of those deaths, Portland installed special pavement markings called "green boxes" at some city intersections, in which bicyclists can stop in front of cars, "so they can't miss us," Adams said.

And can other cities have what Portland has?

"I'll just challenge your viewers to think about substituting one trip a week that they normally take by car, try it on a bike," Birk said. "Try a short trip that's 2 miles or less."

According to a recent federal study, that's 40% of all urban trips in America.

"See how much easier it is than you think it is," Birk said. "Just try it."

So, thinking of dusting off that bike? It is, after all, a Sunday in the Summer.

Pure relaxation

Our anniversary is Wednesday; 31 whole years together! We have been feeling stressed this last nine months, and with good reason, given Jim's multiple surgeries, his 6 months off work and my sister's death.

On Thursday I realized that the last time we had been out of town overnight together was the first week in October, when we flew to San Antonio after Tami died. That was hardly a pleasant experience, and it was quite some time ago.

So, an overnight outing together was long overdue. I decided that we could celebrate our anniversary a few days early. I called and got both a reservation at Patit Creek AND a room at the Weinhard hotel in Dayton . The trip was set up.

As always, the food was delicious at Patit Creek, and the Weinhard is a restored hotel in Dayton, built in 1909. You can read more about it here

For us, a trip out of town is quality time together. We talk, and laugh and think about all sorts of things. When we're at home, we tend to go off and do our own thing. Quality time. It was what we needed and that was what we got.

Carry your own TP!

So, if life is giving you you-know-what, carry your own T.P.! I had a sizable package of toilet paper in my office closet that Monte & Sue had picked up for me at Costco last weekend. I hadn't gotten around to bringing it home in the car because the one time I drove the car this week I forgot to bring it home.
Thanks in large part to RJ's example of how much you really can carry on your bike, I thought I'd give taking the toilet paper home on my commuter a try. You can read about her latest on the bike load here.
As you can see, my "haul" worked out fine. As I rode home I must admit that I had visions of hitting a pothole and having rolls of toilet paper rolling all over the road! And I most certainly did get a lot of second looks as I pedaled home.

Good News, Bad News

The good news is that people in Walla Walla are driving 6% less than they did last year, and by the end of the year, it's expected that it will be 10% less. So, less traffic, and probably more pedestrians and cyclists. Cool, right?
The bad news is that the city's road maintenance funds come from the gas tax, so that less driving means less money for road work. Specifically, it means less money for repairing or adding to our barely visible bike lanes.
More and better bike lanes would result in more adults riding for transportation. I'd be interested to hear from anyone with ideas to get bike lanes higher in the priority list.

An unexpected call

I received an unexpected call to speak at a legal seminar in September (in the biz we call them CLEs, continuing legal education, 45 hours of which is required every 3 years of all practicing attorneys in Washington) on bicycle law and how to handle a bicycle case. It's an honor to be asked, and is certainly something which I care passionately about. Methinks it will be a lot of work, but I think the opportunity will be rewarding.

Still doggone sore

Okay, it's been seven days since STP. I expected my legs to be tired, but I didn't expect that my are sore when I turn the pedals.
They feel all right spinning slowly to work. But when I get out on the road, which I did Wednesday morning and this morning, they just plain ache deep down. Today the Hailstoners were going up Kooskooskie, and I turned around at Blue Creek. I figured if the legs were hurting it was time to go home.
I really, really, never remember having this happen before a week out. I thought by now I would just be rockin' strong.
Maybe I got dehydrated in the heat last week. I know that we didn't get anything to eat for nearly two hours after the finish, due to rounding everyone up, packing up the two rigs and getting our food at Red Robin.
Maybe I went really deep in my effort. That is true, for sure.
Anyway, I expect that some day my legs will feel like cyclist's legs again. I hope that day is soon!

My kind of mentality

This was written by Scott Martin, who used to write for Bicycling magazine. Maybe I can adopt his techniques on my next group ride:

:SCOTT'S SPIN

Mentally Challenged

I'm riding with two buddies, Jim and Larry. We're part way up a long climb and Jim is setting a fierce pace. Larry and I are groveling; we'll be dropped quicker than you can say, "Darn right I want fries with that."

Oh-so-casually, Larry declares: "Only three miles to the top."

"What?" says Jim, who hasn't been on this road in years. "I thought this was the top." Immediately his speed drops by 4 mph.

Larry, bless him, has just demonstrated the first law of competitive cycling: If you can't be good, be sneaky.

Yes, to paraphrase Yogi Berra, 50% of cycling is 90% mental. There's nothing like a strategically placed comment to throw your hated opponents -- I mean, beloved riding partners -- off their game.

But you have to move beyond the "your Momma's so ugly she gets her nails done by the vet" trash talk that passes for wit in most sports. Why? Because (a) cyclists are too smart to fall for that, and (b) cyclists care way more about, oh, their bottom brackets than they do about their mothers.

Here, then, is some talk to talk when you can't walk the walk:

You: "It's great you've gotten so many miles out of that carbon handlebar."
Your ride partner: "Do you think my handlebar's defective? Was that a creak? Maybe I shouldn't pull up so hard. Oh God, don't let me crash."

You: "It's all downhill."
Your ride partner: "Phew, I'm exhausted. What? Another hill? I thought you said . . . ."

You: "That looks like a really warm jersey."
Your ride partner: "Maybe I'm over-dressed. I'm really sweating. I am over-dressed. I hope I don't get heat stroke."

You: "You know . . . ."
Your ride partner: "Shut up!"

Event Day

Why am I smiling? Because it's over! Because I had a great time (except for miles 155 - 185). This photo was taken at the Red Robin at about 11:30 p.m.. Having been up since 3:45 a.m., it's pretty amazing that I remembered how to smile. My readership are probably all aware of what a non-night owl that I am.



Here I am at the finish line area.



Below, Jon Bren, glad to be done. He was awesome strong that day. His GPS got us to our hotel that night. Otherwise, I think we'd still be wandering around Portland. Jon also brought along enough bottles of Gatorade to keep the whole crew awash. He didn't want to get dehydrated, I guess. He also gave us his usual financial seminar when we were traveling. Did you know that most of the plastic bottles which we put into recycling bins are recycled in China? Most of the US plastic bottles are made out of NEW oil. Something is wrong with this picture. The Chinese buy our recycling and ship it across the ocean and make new bottles.




As usual, Tom Baffney manages to look mischevious even after 12 hours on the bike. He was wasted, though, and I don't mean from drinking. I don't think that I've ever seen him as tired as he was afterwards.


STP gives you an opportunity to see the whole spectrum of bikes and riders. One lady on a recumbent had a custom blue, flowered fabric "fairing" which made her aerodynamic and kept sunburn away.

Another group riding together had pipe cleaner head-dresses sticking out of their helmets.

My favorite, though, was the group with the "All winos, all the time" jerseys. We seemed to go about the same pace, because we kept passing and being passed by them.

Our fellow Walla Walla entrants riding in a separate group had a terrible time with flat tires. Walt Keyes had 4 flats (count 'em four), and Clint had one. About 5 miles from the end when they had the last flat, they were out of tubes and patches. Phil Kress came along and saved the day, donating his spare tube and helping them to get it changed. Hooray for Phil.

We had four 60 year old riders: Jon Bren, Tom Baffney, Phil Kress and Wally Fisher. Phil's daughter had given us a zipped up picnic container with a note: "do not open until the finish." Well, we were all so tired that we had no thought of opening anything except the bedcovers to crash.

We did open the package when we got back to Walla2. It contained a note from Courtney, "If this is what you do for your 60th year, what are you going to do for your 70th - the Ironman?"
In the package was gin, tonic water, lime juice, a lime, plastic cups and instructions for making our celebratory gin and tonics. We managed nicely!

A few pictures

To begin the journey, RJ delivered my luggage on her Surly/Extracycle, while I rode my bike up to Tom Baffney's with her. STP is a bike event, after all, right?


This is on of our custom "Hailstone" jerseys made up for our group. Hailstone refers to a particularly bad weather day many years ago involving an unexpected hail storm near Waitsburg. The group of highly educated and supposedly intelligent people took refuge during the lightning and hailstorm in a metal barn.
To be a true Hailstone rider, one must ride your bike in a hailstorm in the company of at least one other official Hailstone rider. Or something like that! I must confess I wasn't on the original ride, but have been well inducted into the clan by a number of hailstorms over the years.

The bright jerseys helped us to spot each other when we got separated from the other 9 Hailstoners among 9,000 of our closest cycling friends.


Here we are, posed for a group photo at Baffney's house, all fresh and eager. Included is Kim Hause, one of the rider's wives and our truly awesome support driver. Our other equally able support driver was taking the picture, supporting us already.

STP in a Day - well, almost!

This is a shortened version of the actual event weekend for my adoring fans. I made it 185 out of 202 miles. Except for the last two hours, the whole trip was a blast, the culmination of months of preparation and sacrifice, by not only me, but by Jim as well.
It was already 57 degrees on Saturday morning at 5 a.m. when we lined up at the start line at the UW stadium parking lot. It got hotter. A lot hotter. When I stopped it was 93 degrees; even at 11:30 p.m. when we left the restaurant and went on our meandering trip to our hotel it was still 85 degrees, and riders were still arriving. Obviously, I wasn't the only one who had a problem with the heat.
What will I remember fondly? The joy of a road trip with my cycling friends, in particular Tom Baffney, Jon Bren and Phil Kress, with whom I have ridden for nearly 20 years. This was Jon's one and only STP in a day, and I absolutely agree with him that neither of us needs to repeat this taxing experience.
Then there was the joy of hearing one of the guys at almost every stop-light or stop sign saying "Where's Deb?" There were quite a number of times when I got separated from them, but one of them always dropped back to "pull" me back. It was such a time of camraderie and I appreciated their efforts to help me. In St. Helens, at 175 miles, I was ready to quit. I was gagging when I just tried to swallow. Nevertheless, Phil was encouraging me to solider on like the good coach that he is. He said "I know you can do 10 miles, Deb, I know you can." So, I did, with him slowing to my turtle-like pace. But after those 10 miles, I knew that it was indeed time to stop, as I felt that I could no longer ride safely. So, I feel entirely satisfied with my effort and achievement. Here's a picture:

A scary sight

There was a bike-car accident that happened a couple of blocks ahead of me on 2nd at Chestnut as I rode to work this morning. Fortunately, I didn't see it happen, but it still shook me up pretty good. There were 3 cop cars there with their lights flashing. A witness told me that the elderly driver just came up behind the bike, hit the bike and she went onto his hood. The cops were talking to him and were picking up the bike to take it to the police station. I pulled ahead of one of the cop cars and kind of tried to get myself together. It was time for a Pepcid complete when I got to work, for sure. sigh. Just didn't need to see that two days before STP.

Five days to go!

Now I'm in the tapering phase. There's no use trying to build on more endurance. If I don't have it by now, fuhgeddaboutit. Friday morning I did 45 miles - up the bike path and 5 Mile hill with the group, then I backtracked up Kooskooskie, and back up over 5 mile, down Russell Creek and home.

The legs are feeling good, the mind is just a little antsy. Can I do it? Yeah, I'm pretty sure.

Will I get over-cooked too soon in the paceline? Maybe. Hopefully I'll have the good sense to stay within myself and just drop off the back if I need to. The adrenaline will be there first thing in the morning for everybody, myself included.

On another topic, we had the great pleasure of meeting and starting to get to know RJ's folks. We had a great time at the Farmers Market on Saturday morning, and then RJ rented them bikes and we rode out to the airport for wine tasting (gotta have motivation) and some great iced lattes at the Walla Walla Roastery. You can read more about our adventures here.
I'm looking forward to hearing more about their biking adventures in the future. Go Team Jensen!

Ann Ride Photos

A great time was had by all!

Ann Ride - Packing it in (or up)

Just a couple of pics to show the take-down process from the June 21 Ann Ride:



RJ lets loose at the end of a long day and long week of running the event! Yes - we did it!



How very much stuff Gus-Gus, the family 1994 Suburban can really haul.

My daughter's favorite quote

Quote: "Though she be but little, she be fierce." -Shakespeare. This quote always reminds me of my mom! :)

Aw gee!

Hot and Hilly

A hot, hot rider. Well, actually, it was only 89 degrees on the climb back out of Elgin...I knew it would be a hot day, so I left home around 6:30. I didn't feel super energetic to start with, but just went at an easy pace up the Milton-Freewater hill. After a stop in Weston at the store, I began climbing the back grade, and feeling stronger.




I kept on going up and up. To my disappointment, the Tollgate Chalet is still closed (fond memories of homemade pie ala mode as a reward for the climb from years gone by), but the store at the top was open.
When I got to the store, I went to the ladies room, but I couldn't pee-form. So, I bought a quart of Gatorade and some string cheese. Drank all of the Gatorade and still couldn't pee. Bought another quart and drank most of that and put the rest in my 70 ounce Camelbak. Finally was able to show that I was hydrated.


About then Justin from Allegro showed up, along with Charles Stanger and a couple of Justin's friends from Anacortes. We chatted, and I contemplated going back down with them, but I really wanted extra climbing and hills so that I KNOW that I can do STP in two weeks.
So on I went, past Langdon Lake, the Spout Springs Ski area and the sign denoting the high point of the Blue Mountains at 5136' in altitude.



Then I was at the top of the 13 mile downhill to Elgin. Should I go down or turn around then and there? It was getting awfully hot, and in retrospect turning around there would have been a good choice, but the long downhill beckoned. Swoosh! Thirteen miles of sweet downhill. The last part of the descent I actually had to pedal as there was a headwind, but I told myself that would make the climb back up easier.
I got to Elgin and went to the little park at the edge of town where Jim and I had agreed to meet. It was after 12:30, so I was surprised that I still hadn't seen him. I laid in the shade in the soft green grass, getting all too comfortable. I couldn't get into the restroom of the gas station as you had to have a code; fortunately a co-op member came to fill up his truck, and punched in the code for me. Relief!
I waited a bit longer and contemplated; I had just eaten my last energy bar, and had refilled my Camelbak with water from the tap. I called Jim on my cell, and found out that he was still 40 miles away because he'd had to work late. I sat around in comfort on the grass a bit longer, then decided to head up the hill. I met up with Jim 5 miles later, and he agreed to meet me another 5 miles up the hill. It just got hotter and hotter. By the time we met up, I was done - roasted, toasted, gagging and queasy. I got in the wondrous coolness of the Passat, drank cold liquids and ate. As we got back up to the top of the mountain, I contemplated having Jim let me off, but the lure of the cool was too much. So, I missed the dynamic descent that I had earned, but at least I'd done the hard part. I hope that I'm ready.