Though I've lived in many different places over the course of my life, they have been mostly in Europe. Within the US my travels have been limited to the East Coast, and my trip to Las Vegas for Interbike was the first time I'd ventured west of Pennsylvania. Popular culture is saturated with images of Vegas, and I thought I knew pretty well what to expect: casinos, bright lights, neon signs, drunken merrymaking... If in the right kind of mood, I could see the kitsch appeal. But what I did not expect were unfinished construction projects, miles of empty parking lots, and a funny sense of being in the middle of a Broadway production that had its funding cancelled before the set could be completed. Maybe I wasn't supposed to arrive during the daytime (or be awake during daylight at all while there?), but the Vegas I saw looked not unlike the outer boroughs of former Soviet bloc cities, with their faded concrete high-rises and muddy vacant lots.
Equally fascinating was that Las Vegas seemed to be intentionally "anti-pedestrian" in design. I have no background in city planning, so it's hard to explain exactly what I mean. But with the exception of the smallish main strip - which is indeed walkable and feels like Disneyworld on crack - the city is made of these self-contained complexes accessible either by car or Monorail (they really try to push the Monorail, but it was mostly empty every time I used it).
Even in the city center, the roads are multi-lane and highway-like. Sometimes there are sidewalks, but they are lined with tall guard rails and there are no provisions for crossing the street except maybe every mile or so.The hotel I stayed at was technically around the corner from the convention center where Interbike was held, yet it was recommended I take the Monorail to it. Well, one night I had this crazy idea to walk. I could clearly see the hotel right in front of me - how bad could it be? It took about an hour and a half, because there was no way to walk to it in anything resembling a straight line. I had to walk around stadium-sized empty lots surrounded with chainlink fences, and when I tried to take shortcuts through hotels, I was forced to navigate along winding paths designed to maximise my exposure to slot machines. It was surreal. As for riding a bike, I remember someone posting a ridiculous statistic on twitter, claiming that 100% of Las Vegas residents who cycle report being hit by a car at least once. Having now been there, I no longer find it implausible.
While of course I've known that places like Las Vegas exist, I guess I've done my best to avoid them - choosing to live in areas that are walkable, which for me equates with livable. Being faced with the reality of what a city like this is actually like was jarring. I know that places like Boston comprise only a small fraction of the American urban landscape, while a model similar to Las Vegas is more common. I know it, but I try not to think about it, because the realisation fills me with a dread that I don't know how to overcome.As I write this, I am waiting to board a plane to yet another city: Vienna. Design-wise, it is pretty much the polar opposite of the Las Vegas. And the public transportation and cycling infrastructure putevenBoston to shame. It is fascinating that such contrasts are possible in the way human beings create living spaces. What motivates the various designs? And what to do when the original motive is no longer relevant, or was a mistake, or turns out to be harmful to the population? Huge questions, I know. But sometimes you have to ask.
When asked to review the Iva Jean Rain Cape, I immediately recalled theremarkably successful photosof this item I had seen in the lookbook several months earlier. I'd been mesmerised by the stunning model and bicycle, by the perfect combination of my favourite colours, by the foggy, milky, electric feel of the whole thing. But a staged photoshoot is one thing; the article of clothing itself could be quite another. What we have here is essentially a silver hooded cape, to be worn on a bicycle. The skeptic in me was thinking that few of us can pull off a garment like that without looking like we are headed to a sci-fi convention.
When the Iva Jean cape arrived, I was relieved to find it quite wearable. The colour is a metalic slate gray, in no danger of being confused with an aluminum foil alien costume. The fabric is fluid and drapey, not stiff. And it is mostly noiseless (no swooshing).
The cape is made in Seattle out of a water-repellent, breathable nylon-polyester blend fabric with reflective piping. It is one size only and hits mid-thigh. I don't want to repeat manufacturer specs, so please read the complete list of featureshere.
Close-up of the hood, visor, rear vent and reflective piping.
The hood is roomy and can be loosened and tightened using a system of drawcords.
Rear view.
Stand-up collar inside the hood. The zipper extends half way down and makes the cape easy to put on and take off.
The arm openings have velcro closure, as does the large front pocket. There is also a system of drawcords and thumb loops on the bottom for keeping the arms inside the cape.
Full rear view.
In use on the bike.Speaking generally, I must admit that I am not a "bicycle cape person." When I look down and see a tent draped over my legs, it abstracts the pedaling experience for me. That said, this cape is so lightweight, that this effect is diminished. What I like about it particularly is the breathability, the flattering shape, and the ease of movement it affords off the bike.With capes I can sometimes feel as if I am getting tangled in them, but this onehas such an airy feel to it, that I could hardly tell I had it on.
Having worn the cape in the rain a couple of times, the coverage was sufficient and there were no problems with the waterproofing. As far as temperature regulation, the cape functions as a light shell and you can layer underneath it.The vents provide good ventilation on warmer days.The front can be zipped all the way up to cover the neck up to the chin on days when you wish for a scarf.
The Iva Jean Rain Cape is available for sale online, and the retail price is $240. If you would like my review sample, please leave a comment with your email address by Monday, November 28th, 11:59pm Pacific time and I will choose a recipient at random. Continental US entries only please. In my opinion this cape will fit women up to size 10 US.
Part way up the trail, eyeball to eyeball with Angels Landing (with the help of the 7x zoom). It doesn't look quite so “bad” from this angle.
After you go up a series of steep switchbacks you enter a narrow canyon that has a stream running through it, but there wasn't much water actually flowing. This was one of the neatest parts of the hike, in my opinion!
There were pools of standing water but we didn't get our feet wet.
The sky and the walls of the canyon are reflected in one of the pools of water.
This was taken on the way back down, entering the canyon from the east.
The trail has exited Echo Canyon and is progressing up the east side of the canyon wall.
I'm still going up, but they are going down.
The destination, Observation Point, is just above the red “lines” in the center.
This last uphill stretch seemed never-ending.
Finally, the plateau. But there is still a ways to go to get out to the point.
Part of the group of 63 kids. A very well-behaved group they were.
The lower portion of the trail, coming up out of the Zion Canyon floor. The Observation Point trail goes off to the left (top center of photo). The three topmost switchbacks belong to the Hidden Canyon Trail, which goes off to the right.
The top of Angels Landing ranges from 20 to 40 feet in width. There are people up there...
As I was promised by my camping neighbors, Maryann and Rob, the view from Observation Point is spectacular. The Virgin River flows through the valley, Angels Landing is in the Center, and then the eastern wall of Refrigerator Canyon. Fantastic.
