South Early Winter Spire SW Rib ..

Elevation Gain: 2600'
5 miles RT
Left car: 11:15 am
Summit: 7:30 pm
Back at car: 10:00 pm
11 hours car to car

Steve and I planned a big climbing weekend. We didn't finalize our objectives until a few days before the weekend. The first leg would be an attempt on the Southwest Rib of South Early Winter Spire. Our plan was to climb South Early on Saturday, and then head to Cascade Pass to climb Forbidden on Sunday/Monday.

We had a casual start from Seattle on Saturday and arrived at the Blue Lake trail head in the late morning. Temps were cool, and it was a bit cloudy. We made awesome time to the base where we ate lunch and started to gear up. (And Steve took a "bathroom break".) There was a party on route ahead of us and they were a few pitches up. We hung our remaining gear in the tree, and headed up the direct start. [Using the description from Weekend Rock.]

Steve led off on the first pitch which was a loose and not easily protected corner. He went a little off route at one point (he called it the 5.10 variation) and was finally at the belay. I followed and found the pitch a struggle, and mostly unenjoyable. The off route variation took me some time to complete as I couldn't manage the moves Steve did and did an even different variation. This off route issue on the first pitch burned a lot of time for us, (Steve thought over and hour) but we weren't too concerned.

I led off on the next pitch which was short and if we didn't go off route on the first pitch, probably could have been combined with it. This short pitch was a moderate crack that brought you up to the next belay just below a major flake that is the following pitch. We changed over leads and Steve was on his way.

This crack is wider and has an interesting design to it with a large edge as its left side. The crack was fairly steep, and Steve headed up it straddling the flake with one leg on the face and one in the crack. There was much grunting. (Not as much as from the woman who was ahead of us-I think she was actually crying at one point.) Steve made his way up and commented about the amount of blood on the rock. He combined the pitch with the following pitch and started to bring me up. I climbed the crack with both feet in for the initial part, and then about 1/3 of the way up I used the flake for feet as my feet were killing me from jamming them in the crack. The last third of the pitch you come out and lie back the final portion. Exciting to go from the relative security of the crack out on to the face. The second pitch of this link up was a wide crack in a slab.

Top of the fourth pitch (photo by Steve Machuga)

It was my turn to lead the next pitch which was a slab pitch. It starts out by going around a corner and then up a nice slab with some exposure. The book description said somewhat runout, but it was oddly only runout for the crux, which in the book was stated as being "an exciting step to the right." It was a fun pitch and I set a gear belay at the base of the bear hug cracks and brought Steve up.

Rounding the corner to gain the slab (photo by Steve Machuga)

Since I had told Steve at the base that I wanted to lead the bear hug cracks, he let me lead this next pitch as well. This was a super enjoyable pitch where you head up a short crack that brings you to a small ledge at the bottom of wide double cracks. They took a touch of effort to get on, but once on them, I found the climbing easy. What was not particularly easy was protecting them. We had brought a #5 Camalot just for this pitch (although we used it on 2-3 other pitches as well.) The bear hug cracks were too wide for the #4 and so I had to move the #5 up with me at least once. Just above the cracks I was able to get in a #4 and then proceeded up a ramp to the next belay, where I brought Steve up.

Bear Hug Cracks (Photo by Steve Machuga)

Steve led out on the next bit and then we started simul-climbing. (This was roughly pitches seven and eight.) He belayed me up to just below the bunny ears, and then I led a short bit to the rap anchor at the bunny ears. We rapped off the scary (freestanding block) anchor into the notch. Then Steve led the final pitch up to the summit area. It was a fun little crack that brought you up to near the summit. Since it was late in the day and clouds seemed to be rolling in, we bypassed the summit block and started our way down the South Arete.

Bottom of pitch 7 (photo by Steve Machuga)

We scrambled most of the the descent until we got to one of the chimneys. We opted to rappel at the rap station there and that is where we were joined by another party who had just topped out on an east face route. One of the guys, Blake, scrambled down to me and set up the next rappel at the next chimney and rapped down. They allowed us to use their rope and I rapped it to find Blake scrambling down to the base. One of his partners came down and said "its only 5.0 right?" and started scrambling the final bit as well. His other partner showed up with another rope and we rappelled to the base. The one partner who started scrambling got a bit sketched and rapped the last bit before Steve could finally rap down.

Once on the ground, we returned to our packs at the base, turned on our headlamps and hiked out.

Overall this was a great climb. Although it was 5.6, the first pitch was no doubt the crux for us. (Were we off route the entire time?) It was loose, not well protected, and strenuous. There were three really enjoyable (dare I say great?) pitches on the route and some other good pitches as well. While clouds threatened all day, they mostly stuck to bothering the nearby peaks like Silver Star and Cutthroat. It was windy and cool on route, but we did have brief moments of sun.

My pics are here.

Fire in the Sky

While driving down an old logging road off the Arrowhead Trail one evening, I came across this opening that had a grouping of trees that stood out nicely against the sky. I was passing by right after the sun had gone down and the sky behind the trees was filled with this beautiful orange glow.

Dream States

My first cycling dreams were vague and atmospheric. When I rode along the Danube in the Austrian countryside, I would re-experience these rides in my sleep constantly. It was mostly the scenery and the light I would dream of. That backlit look as the day fades into evening, the shimmering water, the aspens and the wild flowers swaying in the breeze. The rides themselves resembled dream states, with their improbably long sunsets and no clear end or beginning to the winding Danube trail. Fading peals of laughter from party boats, the clanking of dishes in the back yards of houses I would cycle past. The sounds trailed off, almost ghostly. It would slowly grow dark as I pedaled and pedaled and pedaled. When I remember one of these rides now, I cannot be sure whether it is the actual ride or the dream I am remembering.




Riding for transportation in Boston, cycling disappeared from my dreams for some time. The few I remember are short, anxiety-filled re-enactments of close calls - I'd wake up with a sinking feeling in my stomach from a car having cut me off or passed too closely. In waking life I experienced no fear or nervousness when riding in traffic, but it must have been there on some level - what I would not acknowledge in my conscious state surfacing in dreams.




Later it was roadcycling that populated my dreamworld. Like an animal moving its paws in its sleep, I would pedal with my legs and shift gears with my fingers. The novel sensations of ergo levers played a starring role for some time. My fingers just wanted to keep using them even after the ride was over and I was fast asleep. Tap-tap-tap... spin-spin-spin... thumb press, thumb press!... spin-spin-spin! It was mostly just the motions and the speed I remember dreaming about, the anticipation of downhills. There was also a magical effortlessness to it that did not exist in real life. In my dreams, my legs never hurt and I cornered elegantly. Tap-tap-tap, spin-spin-spin! It could go on forever, just like that.




A late winter ride to Lost Lake led to a bicycling dream of cinematic proportions. In a small group we had ridden through the snow covered landscape of central Massachusetts, a route that culminated in a dramatic course of rolling hills. The combination of the stunning winter scenery and the sensation of the ride itself must have overwhelmed my impressionable mind. That night I dreamt of Pamela Blalock standing atop an icy mountain, her long platinum braid fluttering in the brutal wind. She pointed at something in the distance, and when I looked in that direction suddenly it was I who was there, along with Dina, Emily and Pamela herself. We were riding what I first thought were horses but turned out to be huge bicycles made of a rusty, coppery material. Later I recognised them to be life-sized versions of some of the wire sculptures I'd seen at Pamela's house, but in the dream this was not apparent. Weightlessly we pedaled up a steep, narrow road in a blizzard, and just as we crested the hill we saw that the pavement ahead had turned to ice. No longer in a procession, we were now side by side and our bicycles tied together with rope. With incredible speed, we slid down the endless winding hill like some giant 8-wheeled chariot. I let out an excited scream, but it was so cold that I made no sound.




Other dreams of cycling followed - rehashing the day's events, playing out fantastical narratives, expressing anxieties. Before embarking on an overnight ride to Maine, I dreamt that my dynamo light was not working and that I couldn't shift gears uphill. After the ride, I dreamt of cycling endlessly along the coastal saltwater marshes in the dark. I had a handlebar bag full of tiny fresh bagels. I took out a notepad and wrote a letter to a friend on the side of the road, then dropped it in a mailbox and kept riding. I do not remember what I wrote or to whom. The night was warm and dark, only the outlines of trees discernible in the distance. Morning never came. When I reached the Canadian border, the guard was expecting me and gave me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I kept pedaling. That was the last bicycling dream I remember.

Thoughts of Summer

Thoughts of Summer, originally uploaded by ParsecTraveller.

I know California is not cold, especially compared to the rest of the country (and much of the world). But I think it's safe to say that many of us are longing for warm spring and summer days.

Thankfully, those days will soon be here: spring is only 2 weeks away!

Lyveden circular

Led by Barry. With Norma, Maureen, Gordon, Chris and Marion, Chris and me. A few gentle slopes, good underfoot apart from some mud in the woods. Sunny warm, with a cool wind. 8. 5 miles. (or 6 for shorter route).





We set off from the layby near Lyveden New Build on the road between the A6116 and the A427. The path goes across the fields on the north side of the road. The oilseed rape is in full flower, but nothing like as high as usual.



We go through Banshaw Wood and arrive at the minor road in Lower Benefield. For the next three quarters of a mile the path is a tarmac strip leading all the way to Upper Benefield. A herd of young dark-coloured cows - they looked lively but took no interest in us. In the churchyard is the only example I have seen of a priest's gravestone facing those of his congregation. Norma pointed this out, or I wouldn't have spotted it.

Church of St Mary, Lr Benefield

We turn left along the road for a short distance, passing a footpath which goes off to the right. Our route lies to the left, and we're walking southwest.















A footbridge leads us over a stream and we break for a snack in warm sunshine. To be sociable we sit with our legs uphill, next time I'll turn round! We cross the stream again - a short leap over the mud this time. The route southwest hugs the edge of Spring Wood and Cockendale Wood. At the end we turn to go south east towards a minor road. Right then left takes us to the next section of path and we walk up past Lyveden Airfield, now Welland Gliding Club.



There's a memorial for a Lancaster bomber crew as we reach the next road. Here, we have a choice. Some people decide that six miles is enough, and they turn left and walk back to the cars. Five of choose to extend the walk through Fermyn Woods.













The path is a little soggy, but we follow it and emerge on the track leading to Assarts Coppice. There's a left turn where Lyveden New Bield is clearly visible. The path leads east, with Lady Wood on our right hand side. There's a convenient set of picnic tables just inside the wood. Someone has left dry bread on one of the tables - it looks unappetising to us, and the birds don't seem interested either.






From here the path follows field edges to Lyveden New Bield car park. We walk down the long driveway back to the cars. Four of us go back and visit the building and its Elizabethan Gardens. Audio Tour recommended. I'll post up a few details about this later.

Looking back to the beginning of the walk.

Wildlife - No deer, though there often are in Banhams wood - kites, martins, a chaffinch or possibly bullfinch (on a phone wire, below, not very good pic), crows.

Jam Session

I have wanted to do a jam session since we joined Thousand Trails. Austin used to play at them, so he asked us not to come and watch him. This past winter, we kept saying we'd go and one thing after another got in the way. So it was really special to us that we could do it today.



I forgot my camera, but I think I saw Rich and Dee taking some pictures, so if they did then I'll try to get them so I can post a few here.

More Thoughts on Tandem Riding

I hoped that I'd get over my tandem fever by now, but instead I have only grown more curious. So when local tandemnist Matt O'Keefe offered to take me on an early morning ride, I was there with bells on.Matt and his wife Susi have been riding tandem for years. They have one for the city and one for sport, both of which Matt -production managerat Seven Cycles,and welder at Merlin prior to that -built himself.



A former mountain bike racer, Matt's attitude to cycling is "the less pavement, the better." When we set off, he suggested we do an unpaved loop instead of going on the road. I had no objections.



I was actually very interested in the logistics of how a tandem would work where we were going. The thing about dirt roads in the Boston suburbs, is that they are more like trails: For the most part not technical, but quite narrow - at times claustrophobically so, with a path through the woodsjust wide enough to fit a single bike. They can also be twisty.I was curious how a tandem could be wrangled around corners through some of the trickier spots.



But neither the tight turns along the narrow parts of the path nor the sharply zig-zagging boardwalks across bogs were a problem: Matt steered the long machine with precision through gravel, dirt, mud and sand, over ruts and ditches, and around tight corners. Tandems really can go anywhere! The experience from the stoker's seat was fantastic. All I had to do was pedal, and the huge bike did all this cool stuff under Matt's captaining.



In this vein, I keep mulling over the idea that tandems are a great way to expose cyclists to styles of riding they are not yet comfortable with on their own. They could be a tool not only for couples and friends of disparate abilities, but also for cycling clubs and various organised events. For instance, I can imagine a club event where experienced tandem captains offer stoker spots for tours through gorgeous but tricky terrain. Or a tandem race, with stoker positions open to cyclists who would not race on their own. Just a thought, but it could be great fun... Then again, it could turn out like this. Either way, I am in!