It’s here to stay

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Winter.  Snow.  I can’t see it going anywhere soon.  While we have had early snowfalls in the past, I don’t remember anything that feels so permanent.

It’s a bit of a shock to the system.  One day I’m out puttering in the garden, reaping seeds from some of our perennials and scattering them in bare spots in the hope of generating new blooms.  The next day the plants are all covered in snow.  I’ve had to dig into the storage boxes that contain my out of season clothes.  Now where were those heavy wool sweaters?  Time to exchange them for the sleeveless tops and flimsy running clothes in my drawers.  It’s taking a while for my body to adjust to these frigid temperatures.  Single digits bring a penetrating chill.

Snowy running trailI know I should be out on the ski trails. Rich claims that they are amazingly good.  I did give them a whirl one day.  But I can’t quite give up running yet.  It’s been a challenge, dodging the crusty snow left behind when they plowed the Lakewalk, but each day it gets better.  And I have a great excuse for running a slow pace.

The biggest bonus was having the sun come out the last two days.  What a transformation, from dark and dreary to sparkling contrasts of white and blue.  I was inspired to run all the way down to Canal Park and back just to spend more time alongside the deep blue lake.  How I wished I could capture it with more than just my eyes.

Brighton Beach with snowThis morning, I discovered that my tiny camera would fit snugly into the key pocket of my winter tights.  There was no chance it would bounce around there, which drives me crazy.  So I was in business.  I didn’t repeat my visit to Canal Park, but made a swing through Brighton Beach instead.  There I found the same blue/white combination I find so Lester River icing upappealing.

I was amazed to see just how much freezing is going on already.  Lester River was filling in with ice, creating a wiggly pattern through its snowy banks as it made its way down to Lake Superior.  If this keeps up, soon it will disappear below its icy surface.

Even if fall does briefly reappear, it won’t feel real.  By now we all know where this is headed.  Winter is here to stay.

Hello Boots

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I have been reacquainted with the new boots I bought last winter.  If today’s weather is any indication, we will see a lot of each other for the next six months.  Good thing I really like them.

It’s only November 10.  Barely out of the single digits.  Not long past Halloween and the earliest snowfall in my memory, back in 1991.  This one is nothing compared to that blizzard, but it still looks plenty white out there.

IMG_1474I was content to stay inside as the flakes fell throughout the day.  Working on my latest writing assignment seemed the perfect excuse to hole up and avoid the slippy slidy world out there.

But by late afternoon I just had to venture out in it all.  Groceries for dinner were as good an excuse as IMG_1477any, and I opted to walk to the store.  The world was hushed by the new layer of snow, and few vehicles were moving on our out-of-the-way road.  It was easy to make believe it was mid-winter.

With temperatures promising to stay well below freezing for the remainder of the week, it doesn’t look like this snow is going to disappear any time soon.  Rich is already chomping at the bit to strap on his rock skis and start the XC ski season.  Honestly, I was hoping for a few more weeks of good running weather.  But I may just have to ski a few loops around the golf course tomorrow instead.  Today snow boots.  Tomorrow ski boots.  Why not?

O Christmas Tree

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Capitol Christmas Tree emblemFor 45 years, the National Forest Service has provided the nation’s capitol with it’s Christmas tree.  And this year it came from “our forest.”  Not only is our cabin in the Chippewa National Forest, we actually lease the land it sits on from the Forest Service.  So I feel justified in identifying with this tree.  Not only that, but the man who cut it down – Minnesota’s logger of the year – was from Marcell.  Home to the bait shop, just down the road from the cabin.  It doesn’t get much more personal than that.

I honestly knew very little about this Christmas tree program before now.  I missed it entirely in 1992, the last time the Chippewa National Forest provided the tree.  But something about this year’s tree peaked my interest.  I was fascinated when reading about how it was cut down.  One doesn’t just fell a Christmas tree.  No “timmmmber” for this tree.  It was painstakingly secured and carefully lowered by two gigantic cranes onto a specially built wooden crib on a flatbed truck.  There it was wrapped and cradled for its 2,000 mile journey to Washington DC.  At 88 feet tall, this white spruce required a 100-foot long truck and trailer for its transportation.

Out of the 30 stops the tree will make along the way, one of them was in Duluth.  It was scheduled for this evening, and I decided I had to be there.  So camera in hand, bundled in winter jacket, hat and gloves, I headed down to Bayfront Park.

IMG_0128I’m not sure what I expected to see.  Surely, I should have realized it would be housed in its truck.  But still I felt rather underwhelmed to only be able to see a few branches of the tree through the windows at the back of its special truck.  Like everyone else around me, however, I took my requisite pictures of  the truck.

Photo Nov 05, 9 29 42 PMHaving anted up my $5 for parking, I wasn’t willing to leave it at that.  The park was brimming with families, enjoying the bonfires, s’mores, hot chocolate and cookies on offer. With a good share of Bentleyville lights already glowing, it had an eerie IMG_0129feeling of early Christmas without the snow or deep chill.  I’m not a fan of pushing the Christmas season so far in advance, but this particular celebration seemed justified by the presence of The Tree.

Wandering over to the booths, I was soon engaged in conversation with the folks from the Chippewa National Forest.  There we traded Marcell stories and expressed mutual love for North Star Lake.  I met a man from Choose Outdoors, a non-profit organization that supports public lands by promoting outdoor recreation and an active lifestyle.  Now that was right up my alley.  He was part of the support crew for the tree’s journey, and in fact had accompanied several Christmas trees from their source all the way to Washington DC.

My conversations transformed the evening.  Suddenly it felt quite enchanted.  The joyful spirit of the families surrounding me was infectious.  And returning to the tree’s truck, I realized just how long it really was.  Not your ordinary semi.  Quite impressive, really.

IMG_0141I took a few more glaces around to admire Bentleyville’s own unique Christmas tree.  It danced and spun through the magic of modern technology and its light show.

May the nation enjoy Minnesota’s tree when it first lights up on December 2.  O Christmas Tree indeed.

The annual haircut

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It was part of our philosophy in building our house. Low maintenance. The less work we needed to do on upkeep, the better. Our cement siding (you'd never know to see it), the garden full of perennials and the unstained deck are all pieces of that strategy. So is our lack of lawn.

Starting with a wooded lot, it was an easy decision to keep it as natural as possible. But the simple logistics of building resulted in some clearing and “yard” on one side. It turned out to be a fortuitous outcome as it exposed the south facing side of the house to penty of sunshine – particularly on the deck. I am thankful for that warm, sheltered oasis many mornings while nestled into my Adirondack chair, coffee at hand.

A cultured lawn on that steep slope was out of the question. Mowing does not belong in the vocabulary of retirement or low maintenenace. Instead, we opted for tall grasses sprinkled with wild flowers to populate the grounds surrounding the house. A more natural look. That's what we call it, anyway. The terms unkempt, wild and scraggly have also been uttered within my earshot. I can't say I disagree. There are days when I feel the same way about it. But like most things, I've grown used to it. And a wee bit attached to the concept.

In the spring, it takes a while before the grass grows enough to hide the lumpy nature of the ground. But it fills in quickly and grows at an alarming rate. By mid-summer, I could get lost in its tall shoots, which easily tower over my 5-foot frame. At times I think it may overtake the young trees we have planted, but we have yet to lose one in the jungle out there. Gradually the wild flowers begin to bloom. More of them appear each year, easing my conscience about the unruly yard. By fall, it bears some resemblance to a wheat field. The brownish cast blends with the autumn leaf tones and assumes an air of legitimacy.

And then it's time. With winter approaching, the days are numbered for our waves of grain. It has to be cut. This is no job for just any lawn mower. It takes a powerful machine and an intrepid operator from Boreal Natives to deal with our grasses. The procedure cuts, chews and mulches our grass forest down to a rough stubble. The cost of this specialized service debunks any myth that this approach to yard work is a cheapskate's alternative to weekly mowing.

I used to feel better at the end of this process, when the grasses had been tamed. But this year feels different. The house looks naked. The yard lacks its foliage. Just last week, I led our toddler grandkids on a rugged adventure through the tall grass. That landscape is now gone. Rich misses it for a different reason. He says it signals the start of winter. I'm not ready to even consider that yet.

Looking on the bright side, this approach eliminates any need to rake leaves. Any leaf that could possibly find its way to the ground gets ground up in what I've dubbed the annual haircut. Mission accomplished, pawning off another of those pesky maintenance chores.

 

 

Savoring the home life

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It’s good to be missed.  After almost-daily posts from our cycling trip, my output has definitely dwindled.  To be more accurate, it’s come to a complete halt.  And it was noticed.  Granted, it was my siblings who commented on my literary absence, but it felt good nevertheless.  It’s good to know I have readers who enjoy my posts.

Between resettling at home and catching up on my volunteer duties, I’ve been at a loss for inspiration.  Compared to pedaling through an ever-changing array of new sights and adventures every day, life at home is quiet. Or is it?  Taking stock of the three weeks we’ve been home, I realize that I’ve journeyed through a litany of emotions and personal experiences that rival many of my traveling highlights.

Molly-Beryl-Bill trimmedEnduring friendships – Sharing in a private dinner party for a dear friend to celebrate her 75th birthday.  Spending the night in her North Shore home, waking to the sunrise over Lake Superior and lingering over a delicious breakfast prepared by her husband.  Delightful.

Truly moving moments – Losing a close friend to cancer.  Attending her Celebration of Life service, hugging mutual friends and witnessing the multitude of people whose lives she touched.  Such an outpouring of love.

photo-2Family celebration – Getting the phone call with the joyful news.  Hearing the happiness in our son’s voice as he announces his engagement.  Feeling his new love and excitement.  What a thrill.

Nature’s beauty – Running in the dark of the morning, as the days get progressively shorter.  Watching the sun pop over the horizon to shine across the water and spread its colors into the clouds above.  Every day different.  Each one gorgeous.

Little hugIMG_0080 trimmeds – Filling the house with kids and grandkids for the weekend.  Swishing through the leaves on the nature trail.  Playing Pooh Sticks on the bridge.  Seeing the world through their eyes.  Never a dull moment.  Tiring, but oh so worth it.

Cabin time – Nestling in front of a crackling fire on a chilly evening.  Listening to the radio to play Green Cheese.  Preparing the cabin for the winter season.  Calm and quiet in the off-season.

No, travel is not essential to finding inspiration.  I need only open my eyes to what is around me.  And it’s good to be home.

I Love Where I Live

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IMG_5876That’s a direct quote.  My friend, Myra, and I were walking the Lester-Amity trails this weekend.  The sun was out, the sky a potent blue, the air crisp and the leaves still so very colorful.  We walked and walked as we talked and talked.  It’s a favorite activity of ours, and accomplishes many purposes.  Myra was commenting on how lucky she was to live right across the street from these beautiful trails, Amity Creek, and Lester River.  With all that nature, city life seems so very far away.  Since we’re neighbors, I am equally lucky.

It’s a benefit of living on the edge.  Literally.  Our house backs up to a regular city neighborhood.  But that’s where civilization ends.  Looking out the front it’s all park.  That’s no accident.  We built the house because of the park, and it fills the huge windows that surround our living space.

Yesterday I returned to the trails. IMG_5878 Since I was on my own and wasn’t trying to carry on a conversation, I ventured onto the narrower single-track trails recently built by COGGS. Fortunately, these trails are available for multiple uses, not just mountain biking.  I’d followed them before for snowshoeing, but things look entirely different without all the snow.

In contrast to cross-country ski trails, these paths can be a lot more flexible.  I loved how they twisted and wound through the woods, sometimes doubling back on themselves and doing switchbacks through the trees.  They covered a lot more mileage for the same amount of forward progression through the park.  I could see why they prove so attractive to mountain bikers.  The views of Lester River were frequent, and the rushing water a constant welcome background music for my walk.

IMG_5860IMG_5859

“We love the forest floor at this time of year,” noted another friend recently.  It was a good reminder to look down.  To gaze more carefully among the colors and growth at my feet.  To take in details, not just broad views.  My reward was noticing the late blooming hawkweed flowers along the trail.IMG_5869

I hadn’t a clue where my route would return to the main ski trails.  It turned out to be a lot farther away than I anticipated, and I turned toward home on the more direct ski trail.  That too held a surprise for me.  I discovered a view of Lake Superior I’d never noticed before. There it was, pure blue visible above the trees when observed from a high point in the trail.  It would be impossible to see when skiing in the park, given the one-way system of ski trails.  But when walking, anything goes.  And everything takes on a different perspective when viewed from a new angle.

I have to agree with Myra.  I too love where I live.

Thanks for Waiting

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Fall colors.  We were sure we had missed them. With our cycling trip extending well into the second week of October, it seemed unlikely that we’d see the North Shore in all its splendor.  But we were wrong.

For the final two miles of our trip home, Rich turned down Seven Bridges Road.  There we could see that Lake Superior had sheltered at least some parts of the Northland.  Winding back and forth across Amity Creek on the narrow road, the trees were cloaked in color.  Even with the red maples having finished, the yellows and golds were a brilliant contrast against the pure blue sky.  A true welcome home present.

IMG_5846As soon as we schlepped our gear into the house, I headed right back out again – on my bike, of course, heading straight up the Shore.  Admittedly, the leaves were past prime, but they were still the core element of that quintessential fall day.  To complete the experience, it was cool and crisp with a bit of nip in the air.  The lake reflected the deep blue of the sky.

IMG_5856Cruising alongside Lake Superior was a cyclist’s paradise.  Wide shoulders, mostly smooth pavement, minimal traffic and little wind.  Exactly the conditions we hoped for each day of our cycling trip.  Add to that stunning coastal views, and there is little left to improve on the experience.  Indeed, we live in a beautiful area, with all this right on our doorstep.

I’d have to say, that the scenery IMG_5834rivaled that which we just spent a month inspecting from our bikes.  It was still worth traveling across the country to cycle through new territory.  But it also brings home the knowledge that we have it good, right here.

Thanks, fall, for waiting for us.

Glaciers Cycling Tour Stats

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I can't help it, I'm a numbers person. Being a math major and spending my career in IT, my natural inclination to analyze things is enhanced by years of training. So in looking back on our Glaciers to the Sea cycling tour, I just have to break it down by the numbers.

First the basics:

  • 1,408 miles cycled
  • 30 total days
  • 27 days cycling

Our cycling tours are focused on enjoying the ride, not racking up the miles each day. We planned to do roughly 50-55 miles a day, and we came pretty close. This allows us to take a mid-morning break for either our first or second breakfast, see sights along the way and finish cycling around 3:30 in the afternoon. We enjoy having some downtime at the end of the day.

  • 52 miles/day for days cycling
  • 47 miles/day including rest days

We aren't very good at taking rest days. The only days we stayed off our bikes on this trip were those spent visiting family and friends, which we intended to serve that dual purpose. Our first rest days were 18 days into the trip when we visited Rich's brother Stewart and his wife Kathy in Eugene for 2 days. Our third was day 28 which we spent with my friend, Anne, in Olympia.

Weather-wise this trip was fantastic. We had day after day of amazingly beautiful weather. Temperatures were nippy in the mornings, but they almost always rose to warm and sometimes downright hot during the day. I loved it!

  • 18 clear sunny days
  • 5 partly cloudy days
  • 4 overcast days
  • 3 rainy days

Wind is a huge factor in cycling. A headwind can take miles off our speed. We knew that we were cycling against the prevailing winds, going west and then north up the coast. But we beat all the odds. It was a cyclist's dream.

  • 28 days with tailwinds or no wind
  • 2 days with headwinds (and we frequently hid from it while climbing the hilly Columbia River Gorge)

One of our goals was to spend less than 50% of our nights in motels. Thanks to the boost from bunking in with family and friends, we exceeded this target for our 30 nights. I'd still like to up the amount of camping we do, but I won't complain about having a few creature comforts.

  • 4 nights camping
  • 5 nights with family and friends
  • 8 nights in Warm Showers homes
  • 13 nights in motels

Our Specialized Touring bikes are trusty steeds indeed. We have had a great track record for avoiding serious breakdowns on all of our trips, and this one was no exception. The only equipment failure that would have been a show stopper happened within range of one of the few large towns we visited.

  • 5 flat tires/new inner tubes (Rich) – roadside repairs, we carry 8
  • 2 tire replacements (Rich) – roadside repairs, we carry 1 and bought another right away
  • 1 wheel/rim tear at the spoke (Rich) – slow ride and cab back to Seattle, bike shop visit required
  • 2 bolts lost from rear pannier rack (Molly) – replaced when discovered, bought extra bolts
  • 1 rear view mirror scratched (Molly) – replaced at a bike shop when convenient

While I don't have hard facts on this one, there is no doubt that lattes outnumbered ice creams on this trip. Little drive-through coffee huts abounded in even the smallest of towns, and good coffee shops were also in abundance. My caffeine needs rarely went unattended. Yet humble ice cream shops were at a premium. In fact, we didn't find a single truly Mom and Pop ice cream stand. We managed to fill in with ice cream offerings in other establishments, but there was truly a deficiency in dairy delights.

Yes, there is only one conclusion. It was a most successful and enjoyable trip. No matter how I slice and dice it, the numerical score for this cycling tour is 100%+.

 

 

Riding the Rails

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“All Aboard!” Yes, they really do say it. This was the first station where we were allowed to get off the train and stretch our legs. We were surprised at how warm it was outside, despite it being early evening. Parents chased little kids around to get the wiggles out. Some used the stop for a nicotine hit. Others like us just took advantage of the chance to get some fresh air. We suspected that the conductor got a kick out of delivering his time honored sing-songy signal, but he meant business. Within minutes we were rolling again.

We were on Amtrak's Empire Builder. The final leg to complete our circle back to the car was a train ride from Seattle to Whitefish, Montana. Amtrak's bicycle-friendly luggage policy made our one-way bike tour feasible, as well as providing an enjoyable journey. It became part of the overall experience.

At only $10 apiece to check our bikes, Amtrak was a bargain. It did, however, require some preparation. Stephanie was kind enough to scour the local bike shops to secure boxes ahead of time for us. Guided by Scott's expertise, Rich disassembled and packed each bike securely for the trip. With that, it was a no-hassle check-in at Amtrak. Next year it will get even better. Amtrak has committed to providing new roll-on baggage cars for bikes on all their long-haul trains.

The east-bound trip leaves in the early afternoon, which allowed plenty of daylight to see our way through the Cascade Mountains. With bright sunshine illuminating the fall colors, it was worth watching the scenery roll by. In contrast to airlines, the seats were well spaced and included footrests, and were very comfortable for sitting. Not so much for sleeping. Still, it was a smooth ride and nice to leave the driving and navigating to someone else for the duration.

Arriving in Whitefish at 5:30am, we felt fortunate to be only an hour late. The west-bound train was already nine hours overdue. The oil boom in North Dakota has wreaked havoc with Amtrak's schedules, taking priority on the tracks.

Our bikes arrived in perfect condition and Rich made quick work of putting them back together. Already the loaded bike felt foreign under me as we set off for the nearest café. Although folks still saw us as touring cyclists, we had to admit the sad truth that we would cycle only four miles before surrendering the bikes to the car. But still it was nice to pretend. Our riding is taking a different form these days.