Finally, a centre-right government in the Netherlands

After 111 days of grueling mix and match, tug of war and hair pulling scenes, finally a new regime has been formed (eindelijk!): for the first time in decades, The Netherlands have a RIGHT-WING government that will be led by The Bachelor* Prime Minister (yes, he is single ladies and supposedly not gay) together with the struggling Christians** with support from all the rage Beethoven*** camp.

The Netherlands have always been pro socialized in almost everything, something along the one for all, all for one approach which honestly I find a bit peculiar. I have always believed in working hard to make our dreams a reality or even to be able to live comfortably. Of course we all need to have safety nets (social benefits), have proper controls regarding free enterprise (bank crisis for example), loving mother nature (but not losing the vision to other pressing matters like building more roads) and so on and so forth, equilibrium right.

I also want to point out—which is a common misconception by many people who are not familiar with the Dutch political scene and Dutch mentality. A right-wing government in the Netherlands is comparable to a left-wing government in the USA. I am using the USA here as an example because many people are familiar with American politics. So, just imagine what a left party is in this country.

Here’s some recent news for those interested:

Formatieoverleg afgerond
Dutch right wing parties reach agreement on coalition
Dutch coalition agreement is presented to the public
Islamic veil ban in Dutch coalition deal (Looks like Sarkozy is getting some support)

*Mark Rutte, leader of VVD (Liberal Party) aka The Bachelor
**CDA/Christian Democrat Party (they struggled to get votes and were acting like sissy girls)
***Geert Wilders, leader of PVV (Freedom Anti-Islam Party) aka Beethoven
.

Thorp Lookout ..

Jennifer's birthday getaway.

We had lofty ambitions to go hiking/camping in the North Cascades, but the 30% chance of thunderstorms scared us away. I was hoping for views, while Jennifer was hoping for lake swimming. In the end we found a combination that should work just fine; Thorp Lake and Thorp Mountain Lookout.

We got a leisurely start and drove up to the trail head arriving around 11am. Unfortunately, the signage is not ideal and we drove to what is listed in the book as the shortcut. This is a trail at the end of a logging road that leads to the lake. After we geared up and started up the trail we immediately noticed a sign stating it was not the trail. We opted to continue as the trail looked well used (and there was more than a half dozen cars at the "trail head.") However, a few hundred meters from the parking lot we made a right instead of a left. This put us in some open clear cuts and following some trails that looked like game trails. There was flagging tape, so we figured we were heading in the right direction.

After a while of not seeing tape, we stopped for lunch. I scouted ahead, and did not like what I saw. We decided to head back down to the parking lot and hopefully pick up the trail somewhere in between. It was difficult to retrace our steps, and the way down was more slippery than coming up. We slipped a bunch and had to bushwhack even more. After reaching the parking lot elevation, we traversed through some devils club and rejoined the trail. But not after a fair amount of suffering.

Fruits of our labor

This time we noticed the correct trail heading left and followed it. It was nice being on a real trail, and in no time, we were at the lake. Jennifer felt that the two hours of off trail travel was good because the actual trail to the lake was too short. (Mind you, this was the "shortcut" trail.)

Once arriving at the lake we noticed what we often do every time we go in the woods for Jennifer's birthday: the bugs. The mosquitoes at the lake were voracious. Fortunately, it wasn't that hot and we were able to put on jackets and pants to keep ourselves somewhat protected. On the flipside, it did not make us determined to do anything outside, so we hung out in the tent a bit to escape.

Home sweet home

After a bit of relaxing in the tent we got out and scouted the route to the top of the mountain for the next morning. We also took a path part way around the lake to a boulder field and watched the pikas who were apparently watching us. When we returned to the camp, we made dinner.

After dinner, we did a bit more local exploring before retiring to the tent. (The mosquitoes were driving us crazy and we had no repellent.) It was early, but Jennifer felt she could use the sleep.

When we awoke in the morning, the mosquitoes were not as bad. But as we ate breakfast, they became worse. We figured we had to move quickly once done and hopefully the higher we went, the better off we would be.

We started the hike to the lookout and kept moving because stopping made you a target. It was fairly humid, and for the most part going higher did not result in more breeze. It was warm, but I opted to keep my pant legs on to keep the bugs off. There were a few trail intersections, including the one for the real trail to the lake. For the most part the trail switchbacked through subalpine meadows below cliffs.

Flowers
In what seemed like a very short time we were at the lookout, greeted by the lookout, Lori, and her dog Grace. We took in the views and ate snacks, then chatted with Lori for a while before signing the register and heading back down. The lookout had told us the view was better than the previous day, so we were fairly happy that we waited until the morning to come up to the lookout. Rainier was under the clouds, but the Snoqualmie peaks to Dutch Miller Gap were visible as well as Hinman and Daniel. Mount Stuart was just a shadow in the haze.


The hike back down to camp was warm and uneventful. When we arrived back at the lake, we considered swimming, but we cooled off fairly well with the breeze off the lake. We also weren't sure about subjecting more skin to the swarms of mosquitoes. So we packed up and hiked out. While trying to find the trail out, we stumbled upon the toilet. We passed the not so obvious real trail head on the drive out.

I think this is a nice trip for families, but if you needed to do more and just a day trip, there is a nice loop that can be done incorporating Little Joe Thorp Lake as well. It seems to me the ridge trails there would also be nice options, but we didn't consider them at the time.

Nick's Valet by Nick Ruggieri

My name is Nick Ruggieri and I am a second-generation Italian-American raised in the Washington, DC area. My memories of growing up in Washington have strong roots with my Sicilian grandfather, Nonno, as he was affectionately called by my family. Nonno was born Nicola Ruggieri in Fiumadinisi, Sicily in 1896 and came to America in his early twenties. Fiumadinisi was a small town where crime was relatively non-existent due in large part to a town center that engaged in public displays of its own form of civil law. Those caught stealing got a finger chopped off in front of all to witness. It was that simple…you do the crime, you pay the price.

Nonno’s travel experience to this country was never discussed and we gather his time at Ellis Island was quite unpleasant. Legal entry to the United States required a sponsor from one’s country and $50 cash in one’s pocket. In years to come, my grandfather sponsored other Sicilian immigrants who followed his lead in making a new start and finding work in America.

In the early 1930s Nonno launched his business, Nick’s Valet on 14th and Irving Streets NW. He set out to establish himself as a shoe cobbler and haberdasher of sorts, providing shoe repair and design, as well as tailoring, dry cleaning, and shoeshine services. The back of the shop housed living quarters in which he and my grandmother, Nonna, raised two daughters and one son - my dad. All were born with the assistance of a midwife in this tiny little apartment. The family later moved a few blocks away to 3805 13th Street NW. They lived in a beautiful row house with three floors, each having long narrow rooms that seemed to stretch on forever. Planted in the backyard were wonderful fig trees that many Italians seemed to cherish back then.

As kids growing up in the 6os my brother and I had the wonderful opportunity to work in Nonno’s shop performing the more menial tasks - sweeping floors, working the cash register and greeting the customers, but our greatest joy came in observing and talking with Nonno’s employees. By the time we started frequenting the shop, most of the older Sicilian workers had either retired or passed on. They were replaced by African-American men hired by Nonno. Two guys I will never forget were Joe the shoeshine man and Louis the tailor.

The shop shoeshine stand, quite in vogue back then, consisted of five leather-cushioned chairs that sat high upon two steps of smooth white marble. Joe would grab his tools of the trade and begin slapping shoe polish directly from his hands to the shoes. With a brush in each hand, he’d go about polishing the shoes in a rhythmic pattern that sounded quite like a jazz drummer playing with brushes. Next he used his buffing cloth to draw a brilliant shine out of each shoe. When he snapped that cloth three times over each shoe, you knew his work was complete. Man, in all my then-eight years of existence that was the coolest music I ever heard coming out of a human being! I truly believe my interest in drumming came from watching Joe do his thing.

Louis the tailor, on the other hand, was a character to say the least. By week’s end, when Friday rolled around, Louis was already half in the bag and spinning more yarns than cloth. He shared wild stories with my brother and me, staring at us with his gleaming madman eyes, while his wicked smile proudly showed off his two gold teeth. He often argued with Nonno, and I can recall one incident in particular in which Louis threw a shoe at my grandfather beaming him right on the head. My grandfather wasn’t the kind of guy to take crap from anyone, and many times my dad had to jump in between those two to keep the peace. One Saturday morning I accompanied my dad to the DC penitentiary, which at the time was located next to the DC Armory. I distinctly recall waiting in the car while my father trudged through the gates to bail Louis out from yet another Friday night venture that landed him in the drunk tank. (My father said it was the eeriest feeling to have those gates slam shut behind him, and I often recalled those words when growing up - they helped me in choosing between right and wrong on many an occasion.) After what seemed like an eternity, my dad finally re-emerged through the gates with Louis staggering behind him, sporting a fat shiner on his right eye and reeking of cheap booze. We drove Louis straight to the shop to start his work day not even stopping for a cup of coffee. Louis may have had his shortcomings but he was a good man and I loved him dearly, as did all who came into contact with him.

Not only were those two guys a constant source of wonder to me but the endless stream of persons who walked through Nonno’s door on 14th Street were like none other I had ever experienced in my lifetime. But I’ll save those stories for another time.

Nonno’s shop burned down in the ’68 riots and for years there was an empty lot where Nick’s Valet once stood. From time to time I would drive by and just stop and stare, remembering what once was. I would still have the same special feelings that I once had as a kid on that block. Some memories are just etched in time.

Eye to Eye

Making Fruit boots for hard mixed climbing?

Now is a good time to put some thought into Fruit boots if it is something that interests you for next winter's mixedseason.













I'll have a review on the newest Boreal Ice Mutantmodel later on as fall approaches and the temps drop.









But nothing like thinking ahead. The fun I was havingin myhome made pair is why I searched out a commercial pair. One caution? You'll want your boot crampon combo to come in at around 2# total per foot to really take advantage of a lwt technical combo. BD raptors come in at 10oz per foot. That leaves you with 22oz per boot before you bolt the cramponon. More than one climberis just using the front half of the crampon so that candrop some weight as well.



http://bigfootmountainguides.com//03/03/how-to-make-mixed-climbing-boots/







http://climbs2high.blogspot.com//11/new-project-fruit-boots.html







http://rockandice.com/articles/how-to-climb/article/359-make-fruit-boots-do-it-yourself-crampons

Autumn Storm, Kawishiwi River

Yesterday as I was driving home from Ely there were some of the coolest looking storm clouds I've ever seen moving along the Kawishiwi River. I couldn't resist stopping and making some photographs!

Bertus, the world-famous cat in Utrecht

During the Christmas holidays Dutchman
and I strolled down Catharijnesingel in Utrecht. Catharijnesingel is a canal
that rims the south western part of Utrecht’s old centrum.





We both love walking, and of course as
part of this activity we have to stop by at a café to grab something warm to
drink. Café de Poort was a very convenient choice as it is located on the
corner of Catharijnesingel and Oudegracht.




In Café de Poort we
met ‘Bertus’. The regulars in the cafe told us that he
is very famous in Utrecht. He is a male ginger cat and he is the house cat of
the café. His favourite spot in the caféis sitting on the top back ridge of the second and
third seats facing the Oudegracht. We were also told that sometimes he can be spotted at the other café across
the road.




Bertus is a very picky and arrogant cat as well.
He has this kingly posture that says—‘Who are you? What do
you want? I am the boss here and do not mess with me, stay away from me!’



He actually gets peeved when people pats him longer than a minute. Interestingly, he doesn’t like women. How did I know? Well, firstly, he doesn’t like me (ouch, that severely injured my ego), and all the female specie that came around to pat him, he sneered and clawed at them.He does allow a few regular male
guys to stroke his back, including the Dutchman, for longer than a minute, and repeatedly as well. UNFAIR. Why is that?!




I don’t know why but cats always fall
under the charm of the Dutchman. He has this magical magnetic animalistic aura in him that
cats cannot say no. I’m envious.






Visit Period: December