Product Review: The Winter Beard

With winter in full swing here in New England, increasing numbers of gentlemen cyclists sport a popular cold weather accessory: the winter beard. Even for those normally clean shaven, this effectiveand budget-friendly solution can be hard to resist once the frost sets in.



Having surveyed a number of male cyclists, the most popular means of obtaining a winter beard seems to be the DIY method: Simply stop shaving your face, and in as little as a week you could find yourself in possession of a modest to moderate wooly facial appendage. In weather that's merely cool, that might very well suffice. In harsh winter climates, continue growing to taste, or until coworkers/ loved ones begin to complain. To shorten or shape, use a beard trimmer.



Maintaining your winter beard is simple: Handwash with soap and water, and check for trapped food particles after meals. If you notice people staring at the lower half of your face in disgust, you may not be performing these maintenance tasks diligently enough. Otherwise, you are probably fine.



The winter beard has many benefits. It is temperature-regulating,wind-proof, breathable and quick drying - more so than any wool or synthetic balaclava on the market. It isnatural, organic, and ethically grown.It is inexpensive.You are unlikely to lose it or leave home without it.And itcolour coordinates with any outfit.



Possible drawbacks include extra maintenance, and potential protests from your significant other.In the event of the latter, I suggest pointing out the communal usefulness of your beard: For instance, it can function as a loofa-like facial exfoliant for your spouse, or a scratching post for your cat.



In growing your winter beard, pay attention not only to length, but to total area of coverage:The most effective beards are as thick nearer to the neck as they are at the chin, providing the warmth of an extra scarf.



And finally, do exercise moderation. Localcartoono-anthropologist has documented breakouts ofCompetitive Beard Growingdisorder among cyclists in winter, which are not without side-effects.Sure your luscious facial locks might impress your friends and terrify your enemies, but if a beard is long enough to get stuck in your bicycle's components, you have gone too far.

Perfect Just the Way You Are

In describing my experience in a paceline training ride earlier, I had written that my Rivendellwas not the right bike for that ride. Subsequently, I've received some suggestions for how to make it faster - including getting narrower tires, installing "brifters," removing the saddlebag, rack and fenders, and stripping off the dynamo lighting. While I appreciate the advice and agree that all of that may indeed improve my paceline performance, I do not plan to make any changes to this bicycle. Right now, I have a bicycle that is perfectfor me as a touring bike. Why turn something that's perfect for one activity into something that's okay but not ideal for another?



In stating that my Rivendell was not the right bike for a racing team-sponsored paceline ride, I was by no means criticising it or expressing unhappiness with it. I was merely reiterating a simple fact: Touring bikes are not racing bikes.



A touring bicycle is about exploration and about experiencing one's surroundings. You cannot do that when cycling 6" behind someone's rear wheel at 20mph.



A touring bike is about the long haul and about going at one's own pace.I use the computer as a handlebar-mounted clock and odometer more than I use it as a speedometer - because "how far" is a more interesting question for this bike than "how fast."



A touring bike is about the freedom of going anywhere, without having to cultivate the handling skills of a pro racer. Comfortable geometry and stable handling enable novice and experienced cyclists alike to ride. My bicycle is easy, and its wide, cushy tires make me immune to most of the fears that plague cyclists on modern roadbikes: potholes, rain, sand, uneven terrain - bring them on. I can even wear nice clothing while I'm at it, because the fenders will protect me from road grime. And with my bright, dynamo-generated lights I can cycle through the night and not worry about batteries.



A touring bike is a home away from home. In my saddlebag, on the day this picture was taken I carried: a large DSLR camera, a sweater, a hat, an apple, a notebook, a fountain pen, a bar of chocolate, a saddle cover, gloves, sunscreen, a lock and a mini pump. And that's nothing compared to what I could have brought had I also attached my handlebar bag. Setting off on a racing bike limits you to a training ride and nothing more. On a touring bikea ride can start out as one thing and morph into another. Groceries can be involved, or a spontaneous visit to a friend's house. Who knows!



Riding a touring bike is an organic experience. My Rivendell'ssteel, brass, canvas, leather, twine, shellac and rubber fit harmoniously with its riding style and with my enjoyment of exploring nature. It is not about competing with nature with ever-more-efficient materials and aerodynamic postures, but about simply existing.



In turning this bicycleinto a performance-oriented bike, I would essentially be giving up the very things that make it special. And that would be a shame.



Sure, we may be curious about pacelines and racing.



But not at the expense of smelling the flowers. Some bicycles are perfect just the way they are.

Hot, Hot, Hot

The temps are soaring in Washington, and gaining altitude on Mt Rainier is one way to avoid the heat. The last two weeks of July and the first two weeks of August historically mark the highest success rates and most reliable weather for the peak. If you're climbing, leave early, as the freezing level is hovering around 15,000 feet.

Recent mountain achievements include Jason Edwards personal climbing benchmark. Jason successfully made his 300th summit climb of Mt. Rainier on July 12th. Jason joins an elit clan of guides (there are only 6) who have more than 300 summits. The current summit record is held by George Dunn, who has over 480 successful ascents.

In other news, we've updated the route condition reports for the Kautz, DC, and K Spire to name a few. Please keep the updates coming.

Tombstone Tuesday :: George and Minnie Linvill

Minnie Belle Shuder was born August 10, 1878 near Oswego, Kosciusko County, Indiana. She was the daughter of Isaac and Nancy Jane (Lavering) Shuder, my Dad's grandparents and therefore was a sister of my fraternal grandmother, Elsie Shuder Wiseman.

According to their Kosciusko County Marriage Application, Minnie was married in Indianapolis to Richard Harry Larrabee, son of Cornelius and Meliss (Conn) Larabee., on August 10, 1906. She was 28 years old and he was 36. When their only child, Richard J. Larrabee, was born on March 5, 1915 she was 36 years old. However, I'm not positive that they were the birth parents as her obituary states that Richard was her foster son.

Apparently, her husband went missing for a while. In an article in the Northern Indianian dated January 17, 1918 we find that "Mrs. R. H. Laribee [sic], the daughter of N. L. [sic] Schuder of Barbee Lakes, has asked Marshal C. W. Douglass to assist in locating her husband who was missing for more than a month. Inquiry was being made at Indianapolis where he was last heard from December 11th. He was a carpenter and for a number of months was employed by the government and worked at Camp Taylor and other army cantonments. Early in December he accompanied his wife here and returned to Indianapolis, where their goods were stored, intending to move them overland to this county. Mrs. Laribee received a letter from him after he went to Indianapolis which stated that because of the bad weather the draymen wished to postpone the trip for a few days. That was the last heard of him. Mrs. Laribee says her husband was suffering from a severe cold when he went to Indianapolis, and says it is possible that he may have become ill and taken to a hospital. He has a brother in Indianapolis."

A note in my cousin Caroline's files stated that Richard was never heard from again. However, Minnie and Harry R. Larrabee were found in the 1920 census living in Warsaw, Wayne Township, Kosciusko County, Indiana (page 230). Harry was listed as a 50 year old carpenter and Minnie was 41 years old. Listed with them was a son, Richard, age 4 years.

It seems that all did not go well for Minnie and her husband. An index of Whitley County Marriage Records show that Minnie was married to George W. Linville on May 18, 1928. I haven't gotten a copy of the marriage application yet but the index gives her last name as Schuder instead of Larabee. It should also tell us whether her first marriage ended by divorce or death of Richard Harry.

Minnie passed away at age 68 on November 27, 1946 at her home in Millersburg, Indiana. George was 70 years old and still living in Millersburg when he passed away on April 10, 1949 while visiting his stepson, Richard Larabee in Goshen, Indiana. His obituary stated that George was a wood worker and had formerly resided at Churubusco, Warsaw, and New Paris. Survivors were listed as a step son, Richard Larabee, and a step grandson, James Larabee.

George and Minnie are interred at the North Webster Cemetery in North Webster, Kosciusko County, Indiana. They are in the same cemetery as her parents and several siblings, although in a different section.


Thanks to wonderful directions from my cousin Charlene, I found Minnie's gravesite. It is in the southernmost section of the cemetery and the marker is the first one in the row just beyond the big bush. You can see the blue waters of beautiful Lake Webster in the background.

GEORGE W. / 1878-1919
MINNIE B. / 1878-1946
LINVILL
Photograps taken May 21, .. - Copyright © .. by Rebeckah R. Wiseman

City Bikes with Mountain Bike Heritage

A distinct category of transportation bicycles that has emerged in parallel to the contemporary classic Dutch bikes and English roadsters, is the city bike with mountain bike heritage. I have tried four distinct bicycles from this genre so far: the Retrovelo, the Urbana, the Pilen, and the Paper Bicycle.



The lugged Retrovelo is the most deceptively traditional looking of the bunch. But behind the facade of an elegant European city bicycle, it is essentially a remake of an early mountain bike design - made speedier with the fast rolling Schwalbe Fat Frank tires (originally made for Retrovelo and named after its designer Frank Patitz). When I rode a Retrovelo for the first time, I noticed that its handling felt different from that of Dutch city bikes and English roadsters, but could not articulate how or why. Having now tried other bicycles with MTB roots, it makes more sense.



The swan-framedPilen surprised me with an even more dramatic difference in handling from traditional European city bikes. Its "unfellability" reminded me of one of those roly-poly toys that stay upright no matter how far you try to push them to the side. It was on the Pilen that I overcame my dislike of cycling on grassy hills and rock-strewn trails. And with its Schwalbe Big Apples in 700C, it towered over other bikes in city traffic while also breezily rolling over rough terrain.



Pushing the limits of my aesthetic open-mindedness, the Urbana is basically a downhill mountain bike redesigned with a low step-over U-frame, fitted with BMX handlebars, and equipped with all the contraptions necessary for transportational cycling - including a rear rack that, together with the frame design, allows the bike to carry an insane amount of weight without impacting handling. Unabashedly industrial looking, the Urbana does not aim at classic prettiness. But it sure rides well - rolling over substantial road debris and hopping curbs on its 2.6" wide tires with monster-truck ease and city bike grace.



And then there is the Paper Bicycle. With its seemingly bizarre construction, this bike manages to combine an upright sitting position with the type of "bad ass" mountain-bikey handling that inspired me to actually try riding it down a steep rocky hill (successfully). On top of that, it is responsive enough to ride long distance, as a single speed.



Knowing fairly little about mountain bike design (other than that they have a "low center of gravity" - which means what, exactly, as far as frame construction goes?..), I am not in a position to offer a technical analysis of these bicycles. But as a cyclist who has tried a myriad of city bikes at this point, I can feel a common thread in their handling. Granted, "stability" is a vague term. But theirs is a distinct brand of stability that I for one find useful in a city bike. The same qualities that make these bicycles stable off-road, are what makes them unexpectedly reassuring in traffic, indifferent to crater-sized potholes, and immune to unexpected road debris. There is more to it, but alas, I lack the vocabulary to describe it.



While mountain bikes have been used for transportation for decades, their sluggish tires, bouncy suspension forks, derailleur gearing and lack of fenders made them sub-optimal for this purpose. Also, allow me to be honest: Contemporary mountain bikes are rather ugly. But harvesting their best characteristics while optimising them for urban transport and aiming for a more classic look, seems like an excellent recipe for a fun, reliable and versatile city bike.

Willow Hole Trail

The weather the first four days at Joshua Tree National Park had been beautiful. Clear skies. Sunshine. Warm. Not hot, but comfortable. Perfect for hiking or just lounging about the camp. On the fifth day, the skies were filled with haze. They were no longer that beautiful blue, which was perfect for picture taking, but white. And bright. And it warmed up a little. But still, it was comfortable. Until you started walking through the desert!

The trail to Willow Hole is not on the Park map. I discovered it when I stopped at the trailhead for the Boy Scout Trail, which is a 7.5 mile trek one-way through the desert to Indian Cove on the north side of the park. Willow Hole trail uses the first mile or so of the Boy Scout Trail then veers off in another direction.

On the trail to Willow Hole.

The first two miles of Willow Hole Trail are through the desert and is a fairly level trail. No trekking up mountains or down into valleys. It was perhaps, the easiest trail that I've taken on my journey. It was 3.7 miles one-way, which means the 7.4 miles was also the longest trail I've done so far. The most difficult part was walking in the loose sand and dealing with the little, itty-bitty, tiny pieces of (very sharp) stone that would somehow find their way into the tops of my hiking boots!

The trail was also one of the most interesting that I've been on. Once through the first two miles of desert, the trail went through and around some of the large piles of rock. Then it went into a dry river bed. As you walked along, the scenery gradually changed from the sand and Joshua Trees to “real” trees and bushes.

It was nice that someone showed me the way to go! One couple that I talked to on the way back thought that the trail ended here.

And that dry river bed? Well, it wasn't really dry at all. Along the edges I noticed that the sand was darker. Digging into it with my hands confirmed that it was damp and going down a little further it was really wet. Further along the trail there was standing water in some spots. It was an unusual winter throughout most of the U.S., wet and cold. And that unusual winter has given us an unusual spring as well, with water showing up in places where it hasn't been for many years.

Willow Hole. A pool of black, brackish water.

This area was about a mile from Willow Hole. On my way in I had met a couple and we had talked for a while then they started back out. As I returned they were sitting on the two large rocks in the foreground with their feet soaking in the water. They said it was refreshing and asked me to join them, which I did. When I got my shoes and socks off and stuck my feet in the water, they laughed because I immediately pulled my feet out. The water was cold. Extremely cold. I was amazed and wasn't expecting that, but they were right, it was refreshing. We sat there for half an hour or more, talking and relaxing.

At the end of the trail. Done! Is my face flushed from the heat and sun or is it a reflection from that bright red shirt?

Bringing the Plants Inside

This post, "Bringing the Plants Inside", was written for my blogspot blog called The Transplantable Rose by Annie in Austin. Last Wednesday I planted bulbs while wearing shorts, because it was 89°F in early afternoon. The temperatures quickly dropped and we woke to 38°F on Thanksgiving morning. The cool weather lasted all weekend bringing an inch-and-a-half of needed rain. When I heard that a frost warning was issued for pre-dawn on Monday I was glad the two 7-foot tall plumerias were already inside the garage. It takes two people and a wheeled dolly to move them, but the smaller plants are easy to grab and move inside the garage. Just in case we dipped below freezing, I also cut one stem of the iris in its improbably late November bloom.
The frost was very light - just the basil, the tips of the impatiens and the sweet potato vines looked injured. The frost did less damage than last week's fight between a cat and a raccoon - that loud, midnight skirmish destroyed a large container of impatiens.
The Meyer's Lemon can shuttle between garage and patio until it gets really cold, but what about the four Christmas-type cactus, the aloe, the small jade plant and the unnamed Haworthia? They summer outside but they're frost-tender and the only window with enough winter sun for plants is in the breakfast room. Some of the plants had grown so much they had to be repotted and some of the pots were too big for the narrow sill. Philo came up with a solution. He built a two-legged table that fits over the sill, doubling the depth so more plants can fit.
Three of the Christmas cactus had set buds and went on the new shelf. The poky fourth one went out to the patio table.... maybe it will still set buds and catch up. The salmon geranium at right has been blooming in the breakfast room window since March of .. but the red cyclamen at left was a recent impulse purchase. One of the jade plants was tucked in, a just budded Mother-of-Thousands came in from the patio to stand on the floor at left and the aloe vera is jammed in back. When it gets colder the Meyer's Lemon can stand on the floor on the right.

So our inside garden will be safe when the real freeze arrives. Perhaps I should have left the iris outside to take its chances but there's something so interesting and surreal in seeing them on the table [with a couple of sprigs of lavender!] on November 27th. Outside, the light frost hadn't affected the Cestrum nocturnum on the south wall. This night-blooming jasmine usually releases its scent only after dark but I could smell its powdery scent today at 10 AM.

The 'Champagne' mini rose continues to bud and flower in the secret garden.
Cilantro plants go to seed when the heat arrives. The leaves are cilantro, but the seeds are coriander. After the seeds dried on last spring's plants I tossed them around and a few seedlings have sprouted to grow in cooler weather.
Most of the pecan and ash leaves are still on the tree - actually they're still green - but there were lots of wet, brown pecan leaves to rake. They don't add much fall color, do they? In the background you can see the second Meyer's Lemon, planted in the ground near the south wall, still shrouded in its frost-cover.
While raking I found a bunch of pecans and picked them all up. You know how you sort of learn to guess the relative weight of an object with experience? When I was in college I worked in a deli, and after some time could know what a half-pound was. This fall we learned to pick up pecans and know instantly which nutshells will be full, which empty, and which only partially developed. The good nuts are the smaller group lined up at the bottom and the larger group at the top are all empties. Pecans and iris at the same time! Who could have guessed this would be our November harvest? This post, "Bringing the Plants Inside", was written for my blogspot blog called The Transplantable Rose by Annie in Austin.