Wordless Wednesday :: Wiseman, Arkansas

Wiseman, Arkansas ~ September 1994
Copyright © 1994/.. by Rebeckah R. Wiseman

No relation, just thought it was neat that there was a town named Wiseman!Although, I think the town has seen better days...

Gulf Islands National Seashore

My second sojourn in Florida was nearly at it's end. And, finally, about noon on Sunday the gray clouds disappeared and the sun made it's glorious appearance. I drove the few miles to Gulf Islands National Seashore, just across the bridge on Perdido Key.

It was beautiful. I leisurely walked along the shores of Perdido Key for several hours and though I still needed a light jacket, it was warm! The sunshine on my face never felt so good!

White Sand. Blue Sky. Blessed Sunshine!

Lots of little shells.
The “big” one in the center was about three-quarters of an inch across.

Sand monster.

Abstract art. Courtesy of Mother Nature.

White Sand. Blue Sky. Blessed Sunshine!

The Huffman-Hoffman Kinexxion :: Michael

Even though I wasn't sure if Dietrich Hoffman was the father of “my” John Hoffman, since I had the resources available, I decided to see what I could find on Michael Hoffman who was reported to be the father of Dietrich. The information that I had received from Maggie Evans in April .. was in the form of a family group sheet prepared by a 2nd cousin of her father. It showed that Johann Dietrich Hoffman was born June 22, 1751 in New Hanover, Pennsylvania and that his parents were Michael and Maria (Engle) Hoffman.



Update April 10, ..: Please see Questioning the Status Quo :: Oh, Maria! for my theory regarding the maiden name of Maria Hoffman.



In a previous post, I mentioned the baptisms of four children of Dietrich Hoffman in the Zion-Spiess Church records in Upper Alsace Township, Berks County, Pennsylvania. What I didn't mention in that post was that the sponsors were included in the version created by William J. Hinke in July 1921.

• Henry b. Dec. 14, 1777, bapt. Febr. 20, 1778 – sponsor was Henry Alter


• John b. June 22, (1778) – sponsor was John Papp


• John Michael b. Mar. 10, 1782 – sponsor was Valentine Hartman


• Samuel b. Apr. 6, 1785 bapt. May 29, 1785 – sponsors were Frederick Lies & wf. Maria Engel

I also erred in the post mentioned above in stating that the mother of the children was not listed. The parents for Samuel were given as “Dietrich Hoffman, Susanna”. Susanna's maiden name is reportedly Alder, which could also be Alter, so I'm wondering if Henry Alter is her father or in some other way related. I have found one online tree that gives her parents as Georg Henrich “Henry” Alter (1715 – 1784) and Mary Magdalena (1727-) with no source information.



Also, you might have noticed that the sponsors of Samuel Hoffman were Frederick Lies & wf. Maria Engel. I did a double-take when I saw her name... perhaps putting the cart before the horse here, but Michael Hoffman's estate entered into probate on February 4, 1777. So, unless there was another Maria Engel in the area it looks like Michael's widow married Frederick Lies.



I need to spend more time reviewing the baptism records for Spiess Church, but it should be noted that Frederick Lies & wf Maria were sponsors for at least three other baptisms. This information certainly opens up some avenues for research into the Alder/Alter line as well as the Engel/Engle line.



In addition, two baptisms for children of Michael & Maria (Engel) Hoffman were found in the book “Trinity Lutheran Church - Reading, Pennsylvania; An alphabetized compilation of baptisms, marriages, and deaths from 1751-1904” prepared by Jacqueline B. Nein & Gail H. Hesser, 1988.

• Anna Barbara, born 10/22/1765, baptized 11/27/1765, sponsors Georg & Anna Barbara Schmarz


• Johannes, born 05/03/1770, baptized 06/03/1770, sponsors Johannes & Eva Koch

As stated above, Michael Hoffman's estate entered into probate on February 4, 1777. He did not have a will and his wife Mary Engel Hoffman was made administratrix of his estate.








Estate of Michael Hoffman, 1777

Berks County, Pennsylvania Probate Files

Family History Microfilm 1653590 Accessed February 11, ..

Know all Men by these Presents, That We Mary Engel Hoffman Widow and Relict of Michael Hoffman late of the Township of Alsace in the County of Berks in the Province of Pennsylvania Carpenter deceased, John Koch of the Township of Exeter in the said County Yeoman and John Myers of the same place Mason are held and firmly bound unto Benjamin Chew Esqr... for the Sum of Three hundred Pounds... Dated the fourth Day of February in the Year of our Lord one thousand seven hundred and seventy seven.

I find it fascinating that, apparently, Mary's maiden name was usually included in records giving her name, at least that is the case with some of the baptism records and with Michael's estate. I'm going to take a wild guess here and say that there were probably other women by the name of Mary Hoffman in Berks County at the same time and her maiden name was used to distinguish her from the others. That assumption will be investigated further...



Since Michael did not leave a will, the next most important document for genealogists is one that names the lawful heirs. I've found several online trees on the family of Michael and Maria but most of them include only one or two children, while several have 10 or 11 children, some include Dietrich and some don't. There are several documents in Michael's estate file that list his children but apparently there was an issue with the number of children...



To be continued... see The Huffman-Hoffman Kinexxion :: Heirs of Michael

Life in Longmire

It certainly is snowy here at Longmire. Check out the image of my government issue house. It's almost a snowcave, and those are some serious icicles too. Don't mess with them.

Life is pretty mellow up at Mt. Rainier during the winter. It's great getting out out of Seattle a few days a week to come here. The routine so far has been: hang out in the office (i.e. scheme ways to improve the blog and seek grants for an artist in residence program), go out skiing with climbing ranger Chris Olson (i.e. risk my life following a great skier through steep treed terrain), then hang out at Mike's house (who could be a smashing restaurateur: grilled chops and salmon, mojitos, and lemon drops). Rough life, I know.

Since Chris is pretty much a professional skier and will turn his boards down anything in any conditions, hanging out with him has been an adventure so far. During our first day out a few weeks ago (when the sun last revealed itself), we skied bulletproof ice from Panorama Point to Paradise. The saving grace was crystal clear skies, letting us see almost every big peak in Washington and Oregon. (Right: Chris at Panorama Point).

Once, we skied partway up the Eagle Peak trail then came down in the dark through the trees. It was like being on a roller coaster where you couldn't see the next twist or turn until you came right up on it. Or, as Chris put it in his ski report, it "felt like a bobsled run in the dark." Of course, he wrote that after skiing the trail by himself and blazing down it at about 50 mph. Anyway, we skied it the next day together and came down at a more leisurely pace but it still felt fast to me!

The ski up through the old growth forest was beautiful, with fluffy snow everywhere. Piled in soft pillows all around us, hanging from the trees, falling from the sky. I felt like I was living in a Christmas carol. (Left: Chris leads the way up the "bobsled run")

I was also thinking what a great trail this was for snowshoers, when Chris pointed out how easy it would be to get lost if you didn't know exactly where the trail was. (He was amazed that the trail was still visible through all the recent snow). I realized that he was right and suddenly got a little less complacent about it - especially when he reminded me that a hiker died on this trail last June.

Then again, if anyone knows his way around here, it's probably Chris. The problem is, if you follow him up something, you also have to follow him down.

Oh, Dark of Night

A couple of nights ago the dogs decided they had to take a midnight stroll under the moon, actually it was about 3 am. After a few minutes I went to the door to call them in as I won't leave them outside while I am sleeping. As mostly happens they wait until I doze off then bark for me to come let them in.



Having 4 cats in the house I know better than to do more than crack the door so the dogs can come in without a cat getting out. Cats out at night have no chance due to the large coyote population we have which is another reason I don't like to leave the dogs out at night.

Usually the cats are good and don't even try to get out if it is dark out. But this night Wiley, our 'wild child black cat' decided to slip under our shepherd cross, Ziva, as she was coming in. And he was off!

So was I. I knew if I ever let him get away I would never see him again what with coyotes yelping over in the arroyo about a half mile away.

I had on a thin nightgown, thin robe, and floppy slippers. And we live on a sand dune. So as soon as I ran out there was sand flipping up into my slippers. The only good the slippers were doing was to keep me from stepping on a sticker. Or some kind of creepy night bug wondering across the driveway. Wiley ran under the Chevy truck, then under the old car, and then over to and under the horse trailer. I ran to the trailer and knelt down to peak under it. I saw two big yellow eyes glaring at me. Wiley is a black cat so only his eyes showed up. "Here, Wiley. Come here, you devil." I kept calling and almost cussing him as he would move around under the trailer and I went round and round it trying to grab him before he could take off for the far places around our property. The trailer is about 3 feet from the fence where the ponies are so I quickly had two ponies coming over to see if they could join the funny game being played in the middle of the night. I think they probably thought it was great to have some entertainment as nothing much happens to get their attention at night. Once Wiley almost made it to the fence but ran into a black pony nose and returned to the trailer.

Not only did I have the ponies watching my antics to catch the cat but the dogs were doing their best to help by chasing him back under the trailer just as I would reach to grab him. And then I noticed there were about 3 cars driving by. At 3 in the morning? We don't hardly get any traffic at that time but we did that night. I don't know that the people in the cars actually saw me but I was sure they did and were about to call the men with the funny jacket that fastens in the back - the one for crazy people.

I guess Wiley decided the game had gone on long enough as he came barely within reach and I got my fingers in his fur at the back of his neck. "Got ya, Cat." He was firmly in my arms and we headed for the house. The amusing sight of the crazy women chasing a black cat in the dark was over.



The next evening we were eating supper on the sun room that over looks the back yard. It was only about 5:30 and still very light. We saw a coyote walk up to the back fence and smell the small hole in the fence that we cut for the quail to use as they don't like to fly over the fence to get to the water we keep out for them. Of course Wiley uses the same hole to get to the several acres of native desert land that is behind us where he hunts for rats, mice, lizards. We do let the cat out some in the day other wise he gets cranky and goes from door to door meowing pitifully while jumping on the other cats picking fights. We were glad he was in the house at the time the coyote came by and he didn't get out again until late the next day even though he did a lot of complaining.











Here are the 3 photos I got of the coyote. First one is by one of our apple trees with the coyote at the fence. If you look close you can see it's nose below the tree leaves. The next photo he turned and looked away from the tree. And the last photo is of him walking along the fence. Sorry, no good photo of it's face.

Wordless Wednesday :: Two by Two

Taken at Lake Itasca, Minnesota in the quickly fading light of dusk.

Fun Times in Lost City

(Photo: Wriggling into a hole after I dropped my shoe in The Corridor in Lost City.)



A few Sundays ago, Maryana and I were to meet up in the Gunks. I'd been not climbing for a few weeks because everyone in my family was occupied with moving back into our renovated apartment. But I hadn't forgotten climbing, far from it! I was eager-- you might even say desperate-- to get back out there.



The forecast was iffy. Maryana was already up in the Gunks climbing the day before. She was able to climb for most of the day but around 5:00 p.m. the skies opened up. It began pouring with a vengeance. And once it started, it came on heavily, continuing into the evening without any prospect of slowing down.



Maryana sent me a text saying we might want to call it off. But I checked the forecast and it looked okay to me. The rain was supposed to stop overnight. The only question was whether it would be clear enough in the morning for the cliffs to get some sun. If the cliffs get air and light they dry off very quickly. But sometimes after a rainy night a wet fog will hang over the cliffs in the morning, making it impossible to climb until the afternoon. Often as not this doesn't happen, though, and you can get a full day in.



I was willing to take the chance if Maryana was. She was planning to stay overnight anyhow, so she agreed.



But the texts kept coming.



7:30 p.m.: "Still raining."



11:45 p.m.: "Still raining..."



As I caught the bus at Port Authority the next morning it seemed like things just might be all right. It was cloudy but there was no rain. By the time the bus reached New Paltz, however, it seemed quite damp and foggy indeed. Maryana and I lingered over breakfast in town, hoping it might brighten up a little. But the conditions remained unchanged. We decided we might as well go up and check out the wet cliffs.



Sure enough, as we came up the hill to the steel bridge we could see that both the Trapps and the Nears were engulfed in a thick cloud. But we could also see that it seemed much clearer just a little higher over towards Minnewaska.



That settled it. We decided to head up to Lost City.



Now before you nit-pickers get all indignant over the fact that I am talking about Lost City, I wish to remind you of something: there is no rule that you can't talk about Lost City. To the contrary, Lost City is frequently talked about. Climbers have long spread the word about their exploits at Lost City on the internet. Climbing personalities as esteemed as Russ Clune and Jim Lawyer have both posted about it, as have othersandyet others.



What you're NOT supposed to do is publish a guidebook about Lost City. And I won't be doing that. So no worries.



I don't think there is anything to fear in talking about the climbs at Lost City. The traffic there will never be that high, because there are only a handful of climbs that go at a grade easier than hard 5.10. And most of the climbs are more difficult than that. The place is a paradise for people who like to get a workout on single-pitch steep face climbs in the 5.11 to 5.12 range. The community of people who do this is relatively small. So never fear, the cliff will never be overrun with newbies who don't know what they are doing. It won't turn into another Uberfall or Peterskill. There just isn't that much climbing at Lost City for newbies to do.



But back to the subject.



On my first trip to Lost City last autumn, I didn't climb much of anything. I went with the dad of one of my son's friends. We brought our two boys along. The day was really for the kids. I only climbed one pitch, an easy corner that I led in order to set it up for the boys. But it was exciting just to be there and check out the possibilities. I really wanted to go back some time and do some of the climbs I looked at, like the huge 5.10 ceiling known as Stannard's Roof.







(Photo: My son Nate climbing at Lost City in the fall of . I'm sorry to say he hasn't worn these climbing shoes a single time since then!)



Apart from that first occasion, I had been to Lost City just one other time, in early January of . This was one of those bizarre, unseasonably warm days last winter when you could climb like it was October. Maryana, Adrian and I had thrown ropes over some climbs in and around a little canyon known as The Corridor. At the time I was feeling kind of out of shape and I didn't get up any of the climbs we tried cleanly. On Texas Flake (5.10+) I messed up an early move that was probably 5.9, but I did manage to salvage some pride by blundering through the crux on my first try. It took me a couple of tries before I got the low crux roof of Gold Streaks (5.11-) but the upper crux on a steep face went well. I really struggled with another 5.11+ called Red Wall and I got absolutely nowhere on a hard face climb called Caffeine and Nicotine (5.12).



When Maryana and I returned to Lost City the other week we just wanted to find something that was dry enough to climb. We didn't really care what it was. We walked along the cliff looking for climbable rock and in the process I saw a lot of Lost City for the first time. The cliff goes on for a while; it is bigger than I realized. We looked at the Wishbone roof (5.10 and soaking wet) and the famous Persistent (5.11+ and also quite wet). Maryana showed me the Lost City Crack (5.10). This is supposed to be one of the easier 5.10 climbs at Lost City, and it follows a vertical crack so the pro is good. It looks fantastic. Unfortunately it too was soaked.







(Photo: Starting up Texas Flake (5.10+) in January .)



Eventually we found that the only climbs that were dry enough to attempt were the ones we'd done before. The driest climb we found was the Texas Flake, so we did it first. This is a good 5.10, with nice moves throughout and a one-move reachy crux. We did it on top rope, like last time, but when I climbed it this time I tried to pay attention to whether there would be enough pro for me to come back and lead it some day.



This time I got through the first crux, a hardish 5.9 move, with no problems. But I couldn't immediately work out exactly how I'd solved the upper 5.10 crux the last time around and ultimately I took a hang. Then I figured out how to set my feet so I could make the reach, getting it on the second try. (Maryana got through the whole thing without a fall, I think, but she approached the crux in a way I thought must be much harder, using a terrible intermediate hold.) Now that I have the beta I feel sure I could send it on lead. The pro looks good to me. Placements seem available all along the flake down low, and it appears there are good slots protecting each of the crux moves. My only worry is that it might be a little run out during the easier climbing above the second crux.







(Photo: Further up Texas Flake.)



After Texas Flake we went over to Gold Streaks. Now this is a pitch that I think I will never lead. The initial overhang problem is well-protected, but the steep face above appears to me to have very few protection opportunities. It is super-steep and unrelenting for a long long way, a real endurance test with good holds but some big moves.



It is a great top rope problem, made harder for Maryana and me by the one spot of wetness: a puddle of water right where we needed to slap our hands to escape the overhang. We both slipped off of this crucial shelf a few times, but eventually we were able to stick the grab despite the wetness.







(Photo: Maryana starting up Gold Streaks (5.11-) back in January.)



I felt good about Gold Streaks because I ended up sending it bottom-to-top twice, doing it once via the left-hand start and once coming in from the right (much harder in my opinion-- Maryana and I each solved it in different ways, although she showed me a dropped knee trick that became a key part of my solution).



I enjoyed working Gold Streaks so much, it made me question my habit of coming to the Gunks and climbing new trad climbs all the time. I could see how people get really strong by working out on these hard top rope climbs. It still isn't my first choice, but I should maybe do it a little more often. It is fun.







(Photo: About to climb through the first crux on Gold Streaks.)



By the time we finished with Gold Streaks the sun had come out, and the cliff was drying out to some degree. We took a look around and saw that a route across The Corridor from the Texas Flake called Forbidden Zone (5.11) appeared to be dry enough to climb.



This one was new for me so I was psyched to check it out. Maryana started working it first and struggled with the first crux, a super-steep bit through a bulge with big reaches. You might recall that Maryana is still coming off of a bicycle accident that broke some bones in her back, forcing her to take off more than a month from climbing. I couldn't believe how well she was climbing given all the time off. Watching her sail up Texas Flake and figuring out Gold Streaks, I was amazed. So when she struggled with Forbidden Zone, I thought there was no way I was going to get up it.



But I surprised myself by getting through the bulge on my first try, helped no doubt by watching Maryana figure out most of the moves. There is a great rest stance after the bulge, and then another fun crux up a corner to the finishing jugs. I blew the sequence in the second crux, falling a few times. I couldn't find the hidden holds in the corner. Once I finally saw them, I figured it out.



After Maryana took another crack at Forbidden Zone, I went for the top rope send and got it! What a great pitch. Steep, sustained, with many great moves through the bulge, and then the devious corner awaits. I don't know about leading it. I didn't really suss out the pro, as the climbing is well above my leading level, for sure. And while the feeling of working it all out on top rope didn't match the thrill of, say, on-sighting CCK Direct on lead, it was still a fun climb and a really fun day.



I know I will be back.

The Goose Lake Farm

In 1871 William Brubaker purchased one hundred and thirty acres of native forest land bordering Goose Lake in Troy Township, Whitley County, Indiana. I don't know if the house was built before or after the purchase of the property. When Hale Brubaker died on December 14, 1910, my great grandparents Maude and Charles Brubaker were living in Traverse City, Michigan. They moved back to Columbia City and lived for a short time with William and Malissa. William Brubaker died on January 26, 1912 and the property was sold to Charles a year or so later. The family lived at the farm until about 1918 when the house and land was sold.

Home on the Farm at Goose Lake ~ about 1914 ~ Thornton Brubaker (sitting on the stump, half-brother of William Brubaker), Jane, Orville Day (a hired man), Maud, Billy, Hazlette, Spot, and Charles Romain Brubaker.

The house as it is was on August 16, ... A garage has been added to the right, a roof extension put over the porch, the chimney was removed, and they have put in new windows and siding. All of the out-buildings described by my grandmother have been torn down and replaced with a very large pole barn.

There is a partial basement under the left portion of the house, which leads me to believe that the left side was the original house. The current owners have a living room and master bedroom on the lower floor and two bedrooms upstairs. The kitchen is in the right side of the house. It now has all of the modern conveniences.

My grandmother, Hazlette Brubaker Phend, describes the house in her autobiography:

From the wood shed to the door and into the summer dining room we have been walking on a brick walk. And the small yard in front of the dining room and around the windmill was brick. This brick must have been there for years because even in 1909 it was green with moss.

I think that summer dining room was quite unique. There was an iron water tank in one corner that was enclosed by a modern cabinet with a lid on it; the tank held about forty gallons of water. This room was screened in on the north and south with a storage room to the east and the kitchen to the west. There were wooden doors that enclosed it all in the wintertime. There was as large cupboard that had been built years before and Grandma always had the room looking cool and nice.

The next room was the kitchen. I guess I can hardly tell you anything good about it, yet I learned to cook there on an old wood-burning stove. The entrance to the cellar was a trap door in the floor, you opened it and went down the ladder and hoped no one would fall into the opening while you were down below. The cellar was where the potatoes and onions were stored along with the canned fruits and vegetables; a hanging shelf was our refrigerator. The kitchen table was in the space beside this trap door and many was the time that we would have to open the door for milk or cream after we were all seated at the table. The ones that sat on the side near the door, usually Jane and Me, had to stand guard till the trip for cream was made.

On the other side was the buttery and pantry; it was just a big dark place to put everything. There were shelves and a table or sink. It was always dark as night, there were no windows and no kerosene lamp could take the awful dark away - or at least that is the way it seemed to me! There was a plastered room for meat and anything else eatable that freezing wouldn't hurt. This room was always locked.

There had been an addition to this kitchen and in the space between the pantry and the back door was a cistern pump with an iron sink. In 1909 this was quite a modern improvement. The stove was opposite the sink with the wood box and a cupboard.

It really seems very primitive but there were many delicious meals prepared and eaten in that kitchen. There was a screen door between the kitchen and the dining room, which was used as a dining room only on very rare occasions. But the screen door had been put up when we were very small so that Mama could keep an eye on us while working about the kitchen.

The dining room had wainscoting about three feet high all around and this room was my favorite. It had the heating stove beside which we kids would always get dressed on cold mornings. There was a table upon which we played games and got our lessons, Grandma had a nice cupboard here and a couple of rocking chairs. There was a wall desk that I just adored - the front came down revealing pigeonholes with lots of things in it that us kids were not to touch! The telephone was in this room, which was the heart of the house.

And it was in this room that I recall my first Christmas tree. It was just before Billy was born. I had kept saying that I wanted a yellow doll (a doll dressed in yellow) and after all the gifts were removed and opened from beneath what I thought was an enormous tree, Papa lifted me up and there in the tree was a beautiful doll dressed in yellow!

Off this room was the parlor. When Grandma lived here it was very cold and formal. In fact I don't believe we ever went into this room except for Uncle Hale's funeral. But when we moved into this house in 1911 all that was changed and we used it always whenever we had company. Later Papa bought us a piano and we took music lessons and I guess this room just came alive.

Off this room was the great bedroom, which became Jane's and mine when we grew older. There was another bedroom off the dining room, which was the master bedroom. Mama would let me stay in that room sometimes when I was sick; I remember the pink roses in the wallpaper. This room was at the back of the house but you could see the orchard from the window. It was really lovely in the spring.

There were two large rooms upstairs and an enormously interesting attic. The large room in front had a closet that ran the full length of the room, this was Hale's room and it was sacred to Grandma and was kept locked. But after Uncle Hale died and we moved into the house this is where we kids slept. It was papered with a white rose paper that was lovely. The crab apple tree, which even now stands west of the house, would then touch the windows of this room and the perfume from the blossoms was so lovely, I can still remember spring mornings in that room.

The other room was never papered, the stair well was here and the entrance to the attic. And oh, what an attic! We were allowed to play here on rainy days and it was delightful. Grandpa had a civil war gun with musket and his knapsack. There were candle molds and the butchering equipment was kept here - sausage stuffer and lard renderer, the great big meat grinder attached to a bench. There were trunks of old clothes and books that I would give a lot to see now. This room had just one window but the chimney came up through here and it was always cozy. It also had mice and wasps, which nearly scared me to death - but I loved to go there anyway.

The Real Unfinished Business at Chiricahua

At Chiricahua there are a series of trails that when combined will take you from Massai Point or Echo Canyon down to the Visitor Center 6.3 miles and 1,380 feet below. In addition, there are two spur trails of a mile each, making the trek 8.3 miles long (actually 8.5 including the half-mile trail from the Visitor Center back to the campground). And, this is why I returned to Chiricahua. When I was there in March, the thought of making such a long hike (it seemed long to me at the time) was daunting. That, and the fact that much of the trail was downhill didn't sink in until after I had left!

First, a shuttle bus takes you to the starting point, bright and early at 8:30 in the morning. It's about a 20 minute ride to Echo Canyon where I started out. From there it is a short walk to the Ed Riggs Trail, which connects to the Mushroom Rock Trail, which connects to the Big Balanced Rock Trail, which connects to the Sarah Deming Trail, which connects to the Lower Rhyolite Canyon Trail, which (finally) takes you to the Visitor Center. (Ah, the genealogy of a hike!) At the intersection of Mushroom Rock and Big Balanced Rock is the spur trail to Inspiration Point. Then midway along Big Balanced Rock Trail is the Heart of Rocks Loop.

Of course, there are some people that start this hike from the Visitor Center and go UP to Massai Point. However, I wasn't one of those people, besides why go up when you can just as readily go down? (Since there are so many images in this post, they have been made smaller. Please click on an image to view a larger version.)

The Ed Riggs Trail, which is only .7 miles long, quickly drops you into the canyon while the Mushroom Rock Trail gains 610 feet in elevation in 1.2 miles. It's a bit like a roller coaster, albeit a very slow moving one! Like most of the trails at Chiricahua, these were rocky. Very rocky.

Mushroom Rock.

Nearing the end of Mushroom Rock Trail.

The trail to Inspiration Point is mostly level, which was a welcome change after the ascension of Mushroom Rock Trail. Inspiration Point offers stunning views of the valley, providing a slightly different perspective than what is seen from Massai Point.

The incredible view from Inspiration Point.


Several of the formations along Big Balanced Rock Trail.

A sign posted beside the path says that Big Balanced Rock is 22 feet in diameter, 25 feet in height, and weighs 1,000 tons. (Wow. That's two million pounds! Wonder how they weighed it?)

A portion of the Heart of Rocks Loop. That's the trail, going through and over the rocks!

The trail guide says “The Heart of Rocks Loop has many of the most unusual rock formations to be found at Chiricahua.” It also says to “Start the loop to the left and hike clockwise for the best views and easiest walking. Lots of rock steps make this a challenging loop, but it's worth the effort.” Challenging? I'd have to say that the Heart of Rocks Loop is the most difficult, challenging, strenuous one-mile trail I've hiked. And other campers at Chiricahua that I've talked with who have done it, agree with that assessment. It is tough. But, oh, was it fun!

Camel's Head.

Duck on a Rock.

More formations in the Heart of Rocks Loop.

A short distance after returning to the Big Balanced Rock Trail you connect to the Sarah Deming Trail, which is 1.6 miles of rocks. Big rocks. Little rocks. In-between rocks. The Sarah Deming Trail rocks!

It seems like forever, but you will eventually arrive at the Lower Rhyolite Canyon Trail, which takes you (where else?) through the lower portion of the Rhyolite Canyon. There is also an Upper Rhyolite Canyon Trail that would take you up into the canyon to connect to two other trails, which would take you back up to Massai Point. But I was going down, thank goodness!

When you get within a mile or so of the Visitor Center, the trail is (literally) a walk in the woods. And oh so refreshing after hiking all day in the sun!

As you can see from these photos, the terrain is quite varied. You get up close and personal with some of the stone formations. It was a most interesting day. My feet hurt. My legs were sore. My curiosity was satisfied. I was pleased that I had returned to Chiricahua. But most of all, I was very happy when I made it back to my campsite!

The Bostonians: A Meeting of Cousins

On a lovely Sunday afternoon in Boston, my Royal H. mixte ran into a cousin...an ANTLady's Boston Roadster of the same colour.



I promise the ANT is not mine. But whoever it was built for certainly has a similar taste in bicycles.



Sage green loop frame, cream Delta Cruiser tires, brown leather saddle, cork grips and huge copper panniers - I think the combination looks great. And notice that the rims are powdercoated the same colour as the frame.



It's fairly accurate to say that my Royal H. and this ANT are related. Not only because both were made by Bostonian frame builders and have similar "complexions," but also because some time ago Mike Flanigan (of ANT) gave Bryan Hollingsworth (of Royal H.) the new-old-stock mixte lugs that made the construction of my bicycle possible.



Like my mixte, the ANT roadster was built with racks and dynamo lighting. Looking at the "cycling landscape" in Boston today, I think it is important to credit ANT for resurrecting the notion that transport bikes should be built with these features. I see more and more bicycles now with dynamo lighting, whereas as recently as a year ago people would stop and ask me why my front hub was so large, amazed when I would explain that the lights are powered by pedaling. And racks are now pretty much the norm on city bicycles, whereas a year or two ago they were an anomaly. ANTbikes, and the younger local builders whose work is influenced by them, played a crucial role in this change.



It is nice to live in a city that is home to so many excellent frame builders, and to spontaneously "meet" other local handbuilt bicycles. The bike pictured here was actually the second ANTI saw today. Earlier, I was stopped at an intersection and heard the cyclist behind me say "Sick bike! Where did you get it?" I started telling him aboutRoyal H. and handbuilt frames, then realised that he was riding a blackANT when he pulled up beside me. "Hey, yours is an ANT!" What a weird thing to bond over, bicycles. Encounters like these make me feel like a character out of a 1950s sitcom, where neighbours wave and smile to one another and the mailman whistles a happy tune.

Mesclun Coming Up

The 'Paris Market Mix' mesclun from Renee's Garden is coming up. This mixture contains arugula, red lettuce, escarole, chervil, and endive.













Last year, I grew the same variety of mesclun, but I never fertilized, which means I never got a harvest. This year, though, things will be different!

High Heels and Saddle Height

A belated Monday Mailboxpost, on account of my wifi having conked out yesterday. Here is a variation of a question I've gotten from several readers this summer:

...I'd like to wear high heeled shoes on my bike, but find it's hard to get the saddle height right. If I adjust the saddle for my heels it is too high when I wear flats, and vice versa. What do you recommend?

The problem here is not so much with the high heels themselves as it is with platform soles. Over the past year platform and wedge style shoes with substantial stack heights have become popular again. And alternating between shoes that are flat, and shoes with a 3cm rise in the sole will make a noticeable difference in leg extension on the bike.



For short distances, this might not matter so much. Some women will adjust their saddle height for flats and then simply ride with it too low when wearing heels and platforms. Others (myself included) find this uncomfortable even for short stretches. And of course for longer distances riding with your saddle too low is simply a bad idea - not only uncomfortable, but bad for the knees.





Aside from the obvious but unhelpful suggestion of picking a heel height and sticking with it, one thing to consider is converting your seatpost to quick release. This should be easy to do on most bikes: You simply purchase a quick release skewer, and install that in place of the seat clamp bolt. I now have QR seatposts on my everyday city bike and on my cargo bike, and they have changed my life. Well, not really. But they have liberated me to wear crazy heels again without worrying about leg extension. In mere seconds I can adjust the saddle to whatever height I want before a ride; problem solved.



Granted, the downside to quick release seatposts is the increased possibility of saddle theft - which means either sticking with an inexpensive saddle on your QR bike, taking the seatpost and saddle with you every time you leave the bike locked up, or using an extra lock to secure the saddle to the bike. The last two are a bother, but still could be worth it for the versatility of footwear the setup affords.



Another possibility is adjusting your saddle height on the go without a QR seatpost. Just carry the appropriate tool with you. Of course this assumes the ability to do it on your own, and a willingness to constantly mess with your saddle height "the hard way." Personally, I kind of enjoy this. But still the quick release is an easier and more reasonable solution.



After several years of wearing mostly flat shoes, I've been getting back to heels and platforms lately and it's been great fun. And being able to adjust my saddle height on the go means my leg extension is always just the way I like it.

Another relaxing beach afternoon in Petra with some pizza and Greek yoghurt

Last summer (June-July ) Dutchman and I holidayed in Lesvos, Greece. The island is Greece’s 3rd largest and is located just a few kilometres from the border to Turkey. From the beach of Petra we could visibly see the country linking Europe to Asia. There were day trips to bazaars in Turkey but Dutchman and I never considered this because it takes an hour to get to the port and another hour and a half for the boat ride. We would be losing lots of hours travelling and we have to wake up very early as well. This is a relaxing summer holiday, Dutchman reminded me, not some culture-adventure trip.



So what we did was days like this...











Having late lunch on the beach, reading books and magazines, staring out to the sea and watching people go by (we saw a group of girls being chased by their little dog, lol, and I was able to capture it on camera, scroll down below for the picture) and sleeping on the beach until the sun goes down from the horizon and we would have to go back to our apartment resort to freshen up and change into evening wear for yet another meal.



I have been eating a lot of grilled octopus and local food in this holiday so for the first time I tried something else, non-Greek—pizza. Dutchman was more than happy to oblige as he loves pizzas.



We threw in some Greek yoghurt with honey and walnuts into the order to help quench the summer heat as well. If you are in Greece, do not ever miss this!



I really miss summer holidays.