Violets

Violets, originally uploaded by ParsecTraveller.

They're violets, but they're yellow. In full bloom on Yucca Ridge behind Cal Poly. Close examination of the ridge-top revealed that there are millions of things getting ready to bloom in the coming weeks.

Mount Catherine ..

Scott had the day off and wanted to ski before Thanksgiving. I wanted to burn the calories that I was about to consume, so I happily obliged. The plan if there was good snow was to go yo-yo somewhere and have fun in the powder. However, it looks like we have hit the El Nino segment of our dark months with higher temps. This meant rain at the passes the day previous and a 10000' freezing level on the day of our trip.

Skinning up the slopes of Hyak

So we headed for Mount Catherine with the hopes of a summit. Chad joined us at the Mercer Island Park and Ride and we were on our way. The weather was clear and we saw a beautiful sunrise before arriving at Snoqualmie Pass to low clouds and fog. Instead of taking the Sno Park and forest road in as it seemed tedious. We opted for the skin up Hyak and over the other side. We followed forest roads (Nordic ski trails) down the other side a bit before leaving on a bearing across the North Face. After endless traversing through trees, we got to an open area which we confirmed with the map was the east end of the summit ridge. There were cliffs and no obvious way up, so we traversed more and more which reminded Scott and I about the Ski Patrol Race we had done back in February.

Heading into the trees

We occasionally crossed open slopes and contemplated trying to gain the ridge to the summit but we were having little luck. Our difficulties were exacerbated by the constant fog which made seeing ahead not easy and gave us little incentive to try and head up only to be confronted by cliffs. So we maintained a fairly level traverse and then we started seeing flatter terrain. We finally made it near Windy Pass and eventually saw a sign with an arrow pointing in that direction. There was a weather monitoring station there too, and some blue diamond trail markers. We stopped for lunch. (It was around 1pm.) The sun just barely came out briefly enough for us to see our shadows. Then we deskinned for a short ski down to another road. At this point we had forsaken our summit attempt and were content with a circumnavigation.

A more open area

Unfortunately due to the poor sloppy snow conditions and the ungroomed state of the road, going downhill on the road took almost as much effort as going uphill. We worked hard to make our way out and after it seemed like there would be no more downhill, I gave up on the skinless skis and stopped to put my skins back on as it seemed they would offer me better propulsion. They did, but Scott and Chad were out of site, and I did not catch up with them until the final downhill to the parking lot in the Hyak ski area. (Which was in more disappointing slop.)

Boulder field

Overall, I was happy to get out. The weather wasn't great, but that wasn't really a big deal. We knew going into it that the snow wasn't going to be so good for skiing, but it was more about the journey. Even though the road out was tiring and tedious, it was still better than being on snowshoes. Plus I think this is the first time I have circumnavigated a peak. Cool.

The road out

Do Cities Need Bike Lawyers?

For some time now I have seen references to "bike lawyers" on various cycling websites, and wondered whether this was a genuinely useful service or a gimmick. Do bicyclists really need a special brand of lawyers, or are lawyers just trying to capitalize on the momentum of the bicycle culture?




My skepticism softened a couple of years ago, as I got my first glimpse into how powerful this profession can potentially be in the world of bicycle advocacy. I was living in Vienna at the time and was introduced by several friends to the local bike lawyer -Johannes Pepelnik. Well known for his annual bicycle-themed street parties, for representing cyclists pro bono, and for publishing several books on bicyclists' rights under Austrian law, he is a well-liked and respected figure in the Viennese cycling community. More importantly, he is credited with helping change the balance of power of the city's cyclist-driver relationship in the bicyclist's favour. That struck me as pretty significant.




More recently I became acquainted with Josh Zisson of Bike Safe Boston - Boston's own bike lawyer and creator of the Bicyclist's Accident Report cards - and we've since spoken a lot about the role this profession can play in American cities. Obviously, bicycle law specialists provide paid services and profit off of them; that is how they earn their living. But they can also benefit cyclists in a number of ways with no cost involved.




In the US, bicycle law is an informal specialty within what's known as personal injury law. And typically personal injury lawyers get paid only if and when their clients receive a financial settlement from the party at fault. This means that consultations with bicycle lawyers tend to be free of charge and cyclists can approach them for legal advice at no cost.




But in a more general sense, when bicycle law specialists establish themselves in a city, their advertising campaigns often go hand-in-hand with promoting cyclists' rights and educating the public about those rights - either on their websites, via community outreach, or on various on-line forums. And in a sense, spreading this information in a way that is comprehensive to a layperson, is a public service: Thanks to bike lawyers' promotional materials, cyclists can easily look up answers to questions about bicycle law in their home state; they can be better informed.




Finally, I would argue that the prominent existence of a bike lawyer in a community can act as a deterrent for motorists - simply by making them aware that there is someone around who is eager to go to battle against them on the side of the cyclist. Once in a while there are articles published that ask why so few drivers who injure and kill cyclists get convicted. The answers vary, but the bottom line is that there are no real incentives for motorists not to hit cyclists if they know the legal system favours them no matter what. By aggressively advertising their services, bicycle lawyers actually have the power to change that perception.




All of these are reasons why I am in favour of community-minded bicycle law specialists, and believe that the more they promote their services, the better it is for everyone. Maybe some day, fear of litigation will make cautious, courteous motorist behaviour common practice.

Riding a 1940s Mercian

One of my most vivid memories from Northern Ireland is standing outside Chris Sharp's house, staring at a dozen Mercian bicycles lined up on the front lawn. The rainbow of their frames stood out in vivid contrast to the wall of dark pine trees behind and the gray skies overhead.






Rain was coming down - slowly at first, then in earnest. Fog set in. As water dripped from the frames and a milky mist began to surround us, it looked as if someone had spilled tubes of paint onto the lawn. What a sight.





Since the time he was old enough to save up for his first roadbike, Chris Sharp has been accumulating Mercians. There is just something about them he enjoys and feels is special. A familiar story!





Several decades later, his Mercian collection includes road, touring and track bikes, a mixte, and several time trial machines, as well as catalogues and paraphernalia from the early days of the Mercian Cycles shop.





The magnificent spread I saw on the lawn was not his entire collection; there is more in storage and elsewhere. But it was nonetheless stunning and provided beautiful examples of the legendary machines throughout the years.






Chris Sharp's bikes do not get babied. They see rain, they are taken to events, they get ridden by him and others. Which did I want to ride? How about the earliest example, a machine from the 1940s? Never mind the downpour and the fog.






Considering that Mercian Cycles set up shop in 1946, seeing this early machine was rather exciting. Chris's brother Keith was curious to try it, though I was reluctant - imagine crashing something like this!





Though the exact year of the bicycle's production is unknown, most likely it is 1947. The paint and components are not original; the bike underwent several cosmetic changes in the course of its existence. The frame itself however has remained unaltered. Chris bought the bicycle in Derby, England - from Mercian Cycles directly when the shop was under its previous ownership. The current restoration was done by Mercian, and the build was done by Chris using vintage English components.







It is a shame that the original paint and decals could not be preserved. The original head badge would have looked like this.





But the original lugwork can still be admired.






I love the older fork crowns as well.






Though cosmetically battered over the years, the frame itself had remained in good condition and the restored bike is entirely ridable.





Chris had it set up as a fixed gear for himself, but had put a freewheel on it to make it easier for others to test ride. The size is just about perfect for the Sharp brothers.






Keith Sharp is a bicycle racer and rides mostly modern machines, though appreciates his brother's vintage collection. He had never ridden this particular Mercian before, but loved it when he tried it. "The ride quality! It is very comfortable, you really must ride it!" I confess that it took a bit of convincing to get me on this bike. It was too large for me and I was unsure that I'd be able to use the brake levers effectively. Also, it was raining! But finally, my curiosity to learn what one of the earliest Mercians ever made felt like on the road won over and I tried it.






Very glad I did - what a bicycle. Yes, there is something about the ride quality. A steady, comfortable and almost effortless ride, gliding over rough road surfaces and yearning for uphill stretches. The bike was surprisingly easy to maneuver despite being too large for me. Once I started riding it, I wanted to keep going. It also felt oddly similar to my own Mercian back home. It makes no sense to believe that there is a distinct ride quality associated with Mercians that spans decades of production, despite the generational change of builders and the use of different tubing and geometry. And yet the Mercian owners and collectors I've spoken to quietly believe this, while conceding that its unlikelihood. I do not plan to collect Mercian bicycles, but I enjoy learning about their history and interacting with their enthusiastic owners. It was a treat to ride a Mercian of 1940s vintage - one of the earliest made. More pictures here.

Firefighter & Dragon

The firefighter has his foot on the dragons head.

The best money you can spend in the mountains.....

"To evolve, you must stay involved" Glen Plake





It is easy to get complacent and lazy. It is much harder, having and keeping a beginner's mind, the mind of a student. I have a hard time doing that myself. And it takes me a concerted effort to get there.



Couple of reasons for that. While I am curious I am not a very good student. I'm demanding and stubborn and head strong. And I don't listen well. I have to work at it. It might takecold hard cashto get me to listen at times. My cash! Worse yet I am not generally willing to do anything new. As in a new sport. The sports I do now I have been doing for several decades. Andin my own mind I am at least fair at them. It has taken a good bit of practice after all.I haven't done many...so I have worked hard at getting proficient at what I do enjoy. But truth is I aways want to get better.I've worked as ateacher enough to recognise hard case students like myself. It aint pretty. Wish it were different but it is not. A lot of ego wrapped up in all that.



So for me to want to learn something new, I need a harsh reminder that I don't know everythingall already :)



A good physical trashing ( or falling even once a day on skiis will do it) generally gets me off the dime and rethinking what I am doing and how I might do it better. But putting myself in the position of astudent, and with a beginners' mind is really hard for me. And when I do, I expect...usually demand, a lot. As I said, I'm a tough student.













This weekend is our local skimo festival. It is called Vertfest and has been held at Apental ski area for the last few years. It is a great venue that hasn't yet really seen its true potential. There is a lot of industry support from many manufactures like, Outdoor Research, Dynafit and La Sportiva among others.A full setof demo skis and boots. That has to be fun!








"Precious"@ The La Sportiva tent :)








The Vertfest race was a a great course of either one lap (for 2250' gain) or two laps (for 4100' of gain). My friend JasonDorais of SLC laid down his two laps before I had done my first one. Time I heard was around 1:15. Which is smoking! Even though I am not really sure Jasonthought it was even a decent work out. Others did;) Have yet to actually see results (shame on you VertFest guys!) But the ladies winner was no slouch either. Sorry,I don't have her name just a pretty picture :) If someone can pass it along that would be great.






Jason Dorais, the Men's winner on Scarpa and Trab









Theobviously happy, Juya Ghanaie,Ladies OA winner!

She also finishedbefore I got one lap done!



Congrads to both!!





10 minutes prior to the start





At this point the pack has broken up and we are gettin strung out.










As good as the skimo race is at Alpental, it is the demos and the following Sunday of clinics that is the real high point of Vertfest IMO.



For just under $100 plus the lift ticket, I was able to do two clinics on Sunday.






Not that steep, but there is a lot of ski base showing...so steep enough.

Alpental has a lot of steep terrain in bounds.






The first was an excellent " Steep Skiing" taught by Martin Volken of Pro Guide Service with input by Tim Petrick, currently working forK2. But a legend atPSIA and the US Nat. Demo Team






Martin Volken, photo courtesy Andy Dappen




Alpental offers some steep terrain. We generally had good snow and I learned a few things and was reminded of a few others. You had to work for a living in this clinic. And be a little careful as well with the crusty conditions and the ice the previous day under a foot of new snow. Well worth the effort. If you ever get the chance this is a "must do" with Martin.It was a brilliant bit of instruction and perfect demo of the skill set required to ski steep terrain. Martin didn't miss the chance to remind us that this kind of terrain wasn't "normal skiing with a full pack in the mountains". You need to be careful in the back country, out of bounds and inside a ski areas like Alpental. All good reminders, imo.



http://www.proguiding.com/



http://amga.com/about/i_mvolken.php



http://www.gearinstitute.com/gear-news/industry-news/item/ski-industry-icon-tim-petrick-returns-to-k2



http://psia-w.org/alpine/psia-western-alpine-demonstration-team/











Olivia Race, photo courtesy of the LAS web site




The afternoon was taken up by my second, 3 hr. clinic. This one, Sponsored by La Sportiva, was unassumingly labeled, "Intermediate Techniques to Improve Efficiency for Backcountry Skiing".

Ialways aspire to be more efficient! How could I loose? It was taught by Olivia Race from the Northwest Mountain School. I have to say Olivia's class was really fun. Low stress compared to the terrain Martin and Tim had us skiing.I had no idea what to expect on this one and Olivia's obvious skill shonebrightly in the three hours of instruction. I have always said climbing (and skiing) is a thinking man's (or woman's) game. Olivia reminded me of just how true that really is, again. My brain almost hurt with just 45 minutes of her one on one tutelage. But I didn't realise it until I was done and anotherof my fellow studentscame under her critical eye and gentle instruction style. While I mindlessly followed along happy for the mental break. That hasn't happened in a long while. Again,brilliant. Learning new things is hard work for me ;)



http://www.mountainschool.com/



http://www.sportiva.com/ambassadors/athletes/skiing/olivia-race



Anyone that knows me (or has read reviews here) should know that I don't offer compliments often or easily. And I am pretty picky on who I will go out tothe mountains with out reservation. I was lucky enough to meet three this weekend that I would add to that list any time.



No question, the best $100 I've spent on "gear" in a long, long time.





Hire a qualified Guide or Instructor and speed up your own learning curve! That can include climbing or skiing and any part of eithersport depending on what you are looking to improve.

Bellavista on 3.5 limbs

Cold but happy climbers after Bellavista. Photo: Alan Cassidy (you should read his blog, it’s really good)




Before my ‘long shot’ trip to Bellavista with Alan Cassidy, I had a small hiccup. I was leading Hold Fast, Hold True (E9) in Glen Nevis a week before we were leaving and didn’t quite catch a hold right after the crux, slipping off and decking out from rather higher than one would like. I got away lightly, with quite nasty whiplash and a sprained left ankle. I was able to walk, well, between the kettle and the couch anyway. So I felt it wouldn’t be a problem for the upcoming trip.




I left it 5 days and then tried to get a couple of pre-trip training sessions in TCA before we left. To my dismay, I discovered that I couldn’t even nearly get a rockshoe on my fat, bruised foot. I had a session of one-footed traversing anyway and then went for an X-ray since things seemed to be getting more, not less painful. Sure enough, a couple of bone spurs that have restricted my left ankle dorsiflexion ever since I broke it in 1997 had broken off and are irritating my ankle joint. Some day surgery awaits. I’m quite looking forward to a couple of weeks of Beastmaker abuse during the Lochaber monsoon next month.




By the day we left for Cima Ovest, I’d managed to walk round Morrison’s, take Freida to toddler group and lie on my side in bed without taking Tramadol first. Things were looking up!













Alan trying to get the psyche to rock climb in winter climbing conditions




As I wrote in my last blog, we then proceeded to spend most of the trip being hammered by crap weather. The route was soaking, it rained, snowed, snowed a lot more and then got windy and freezing. We tried to climb on the 8c pitch anyway, but both of us knew we were getting absolutely nowhere. We became totally set in the viewpoint that having been soaking all week, the chances of it drying out a bit in our remaining three days were zilch.












Being practical, or venting wet weather frustration? You decide.




But it didn’t quite work out like that. On the third last day, I went out for a look on the 8c pitch first. The first half was still wet, but the second half was nearly dry, and I could link it to the belay straight away. Quite good. Alan went for his go and was also feeling like he could get to grips with the pitch a bit more. But then, as he was out of sight near the end of the pitch, I heard an “AAAAAGGHHH!”. The rope jerked momentarily tight, then suddenly slack again. Another loud scream and Alan appeared into view, dropping through space. He stopped, dangling at least 15 metres down in the void, with quickdraws sporting ripped pegs spinning down the rope towards him.




He was just sitting on a peg, brushing another damp hold when it ripped and the previous one ripped too. It must have been an exciting journey into space! After having a good laugh about Alan’s trip, we had a think about where this left us. There was now a big section near the end of the pitch with no gear in it. We were on budget flight mode and hadn’t been able to bring any pegs or aid gear in case we needed to re-equip.












In the end, we managed to borrow a hammer from the lovely folk at Rifugio Auronzo and I set up a tension traverse to back-aid and free climb back along from the next belay to the bit that needed re-equipping. I managed to get a sketchy cam in a pocket and gingerly sat on it and proceeded to fail to get the two ill fitting pegs to go in somewhere other than where they’d been before. After an hour, I had it sorted and the route was back online.




However, we had one day left. I just wanted to get the gear back and get home. Everything was wrong and I felt a bit fed up to be honest. My ankle hurt on the walk-in, I couldn’t do certain movements with it on the rock, I’d had my fill of climbing wet rock or frozen rock, we’d not had even one good day to try it properly. Worst of all, it was baltic.










Shall we go climb an 8c north face route today?




We’d not seen a single other party climbing on the north faces all trip. I’m not surprised. On the last day we wandered up, both of us ready to strip it and get on our plane home. Alan climbed the first three pitches (7b, 6c+, 6a+) in one big pitch again. He was clearly struggling to get any feeling from fingers and toes. It was well below zero and blowing a bitter wind. Seconding him, I felt like a frozen robot, clawing up the rock with zero feedback from my digits. Leading the next two pitches (7a, 7a+) I still couldn’t even get my core warm despite climbing in myArete jacket. However, by the time a freezing Alan joined me, the wind had dropped a bit and I was feeling more myself with the full belay jacket and trousers armoury on.




I went out along the start of the 8c and was most surprised to find a special scenario of feelings come over me that doesn’t happen every day. The pitch was the driest it had been all trip. First, there was the sudden rushing feeling of being confident flowing through the moves rather than constantly expecting to ‘ping’ off wet holds. ‘I can still climb!’ Second, the ‘last day’ go for broke mentality clicked into place. When all the preparation has gone so badly, what do you have left except to see what can happen if you just don’t care anymore and go for a good fight with the pitch? Finally, I knew I was going to have one link attempt, so I might as well get it over with as quickly as possible and get home to see my family.













Alan drying holds on one of the 'warm' days




So after the five minute warm up burn, I blasted off at full tilt, through the crux and onto the weird back-and-foot rest at the block above. I wasn’t that pumped. So get going! Up through the mono move and onto the big traverse. I was breathing hard but forearms were absorbing the hit so far. At the undercut move I decided to start really trying and grunted through. But I was able to rest each hand on every hold. I got down to the move before a rest at a huge ‘Hueco’ pocket. My sequence is to fling my feet up into the hole first, have a rest in the bat hang and then flip round and throw my whole arm into it. My ankle was so weak I couldn’t pull up on the toehooks and nearly fell off. I took a few seconds more to figure out what to do, before resting my left foot once and then trying again. It worked and Ihung from the arm-bar for five minutes, breathing slowly calming down. The final ten metres was a pure exercise in relaxation. I knew I could get to the belay if I didn’t make a mistake. The only way I’d make a mistake would be if I started to anticipate success. So I just switched off and pneumatic-ed through the holds with no emotion until the belay suddenly appeared in front of me.




Switching off completely means that when you do wake up and realise it’s done, it’s quite a shocker and the emotion comes flooding back. Alan wasted no time in gathering every down garment we had assembled at the belay and jugged up to join me, already shivering. I thawed out a little in the duvet while Alan cruised the 8a pitch above. I still had to jug up the rope and be lowered back down to do it myself, just to get the blood moving. The wind just kept cutting through me and in the next two pitches (6c+, 7a) I got really pumped on what should be easy ground. There just seemed to be no blood going through my forearms. We both had to second the remaining pitches to the Cassin ledge in the big jackets and duvet trousers! Never done that before, even in mixed climbing. There was just time to strip our gear out of the roof as it was getting dark and made it down to the base to find everything was frozen solid. We packed, rushed back to the car, then Venice for three hours sleep before boarding our flights back to Scotland.




It was really interesting for me to share the experience with Alan, who hasn’t done a great deal of mountain big wall climbs. Failing when the route is hard is something most climbers can deal with pretty well - why else do we try such hard climbs except to feel pushed and feel uncertainty? But failing through not being able to properly try can get under your skin. I certainly still find that creates a lot of restlessness in me. Last week I channelled it into finishing a draft of my book while the blizzards raged outside. Alan took it all really well and was able to keep turning on 'mission mode' all the way on the last day redpoint, despite the scary fall the previous day. His blogs through the week are a nice illumination of an adventure unfolding, the final twist coming right at the last hours before the flight home.




Even now I can’t believe that came together.