The photos below were taken shortly after leaving Van Horn. These mountains were on the west side of the highway – a variety of interesting peaks.
Monday, June 8, 2015
Into the Mountains
Wednesday, April 6th - - After leaving Monahans Sandhills I continued west on I-20 about 130 miles to Van Horn where I turned north onto Texas Highway 54, which runs in-between several mountain ranges – the Boulder and Delaware are to the east while the Beach and Sierra Diablo rise up in the west.
The photos below were taken shortly after leaving Van Horn. These mountains were on the west side of the highway – a variety of interesting peaks.
The photos below were taken shortly after leaving Van Horn. These mountains were on the west side of the highway – a variety of interesting peaks.
Sunday, June 7, 2015
Forbidden East Ridge Direct ..
Part II
"The Descent"
Steve's glory from the summit (photo by Steve Machuga)
Josh and Matt had told us that it took them about one and half hours to get back to the notch from the summit using the East Ledge descent. They said it was five rappels and then there were cairns on each rib on the traverse back. Most people avoid this descent because as Nelson states "climbers find this 3rd and 4th class descent route to be loose and stressful." Josh and Matt gave us confidence that we should have no problems with it. Plus at 7pm our only other option was to continue down the west ridge, which could not have been faster. If all went well, we should be back at the notch before the sun set.
Steve belayed me quickly back to the summit rap anchor. This was a mess of old slings on a horn on the ridge. The horn appeared sound enough, but we decided to add a sling as all the slings seemed old and tattered. The first rappel appeared to be the steepest. And we could see the next two rap stations from there.
I headed out first careful not to put too much weight on the anchor. About halfway down, Steve yelled to hurry up as it was 7:20pm. We made it to the next anchor which was no less scary than the top anchor and proceeded to rappel. A few raps down and we had difficulty finding the next rap stations. Steve led off on the next rap while I stashed the rack in the pack. By the time we were done with five raps it was a little dark and we could not see any cairns on the first rib. A lot of the beta and the climbeing ranger stated that the big mistake most people make is not descending enough. So, we made a sixth rap.
Still no sign of a cairn on the rib, we decided to head east. Perhaps we'd see it on the next rib? While not fully dark, it was a little too dark to see anything resembling a ledge that is what the route is supposed to traverse. So we carefully picked our way east as the sun set on us. We headed to what appeared to be a cairn on perhaps the second rib over but the ground got too difficult to reach it. (So we assumed it was not correct.) We saw a rap anchor nearby and were able to reach that. Anchored in, we rested our minds a bit, but wanted to keep moving. Now under head lamp, we made another rappel. Steve liked what he saw at the bottom and told me to come down. Once at the end of the rope, there were some larger, more comfortable ledges to stand on. We eyed the next rib and saw easier terrain going to it. We headed toward it.
Once on the rib, we identified a cairn. We were on route. But now it was dark and losing the route could be easy. The terrain and especially the ribs were rocky with many horns and blocks. A cairn could easily hide among all the other spikes on the rib. We continued slowly eastward toward the next rib. The night scrambling was stressful. We took a few minor breaks on larger ledges to rest our brains and take in the beauty of the sky. Unfortunately, there were no spots suitable for a bivy. No ledges were large enough to really sit or lay on, and none offered anchors to tie into. With a possibility of rockfall, our safest option was to keep moving off this technical terrain.
We neared the next rib and could see what looked like a cairn. But by headlamp it could also have been just a horn. We discussed it a bit. Then we headed toward it. It was yet another cairn. We were still on track!
We attempted to maintain a level crossing to the next rib. Going was slow. We kept looking up to the ridge to see if we were under the "solitary gendarme" that marks the start of the route. We reached the next rib to find another cairn. We were still on route and we appeared to be under the gendarme. Time to head up.
Having talked to the ranger and Josh and Matt they all stated that most people take the gully back up to the notch, but that it is preferred to stay on the rib just west of the gully as it is easier terrain. But where we were currently the gully offered the best terrain and we started our upward climb on grassy ledges and blocks. People had clearly been this way, but it did not necessarily look like a well traveled path. After some distance upward, we regained the rib again as that offered easier terrain. We were getting excited. The climbing was getting more stressful. The last bits to the ridge crest were probably low 5th class that we had to solo to make it to the top. Once there, our hearts sank. We headed up too early. We were at the location that marked the end of our fourth pitch earlier that day. (Or technically the day before.)
It was around 1:30am and we had four pitches to climb to return to the relative safety of the notch. We were out of water and hadn't drank any in hours. Nor would we be anywhere soon where we could replenish. We could build an anchor and huddle together until daylight, or we could climb out while we still were running on adrenalin. We sat about a bit admiring the stars and lights of Bellingham before making a decision. (Who knew you could see Forbidden from Bellingham?) The ridge was cold and windy, we wouldn't get any real rest, so we decided to climb. We both felt relief to finally be anchored back into the mountain again.
Steve suggested we lead the same pitches we led earlier as we may remember them. (It seemed like a week ago that we were on the ridge in the daylight. It made our South Early Winter Spire climb seem like last month!) I told him I remembered this pitch to be exposed. He told me it wouldn't matter as you couldn't feel the exposure in the dark.
So I took the rack out of the pack and racked up to lead a pitch on the ridge in the dark. As my headlamp illuminated the terrain it came back to me. Climb over this horn, traverse this rib, over another horn. I was determined to get it done. I stumbled upon the anchor where Steve belayed me on the pitch earlier. It was a sling someone left there. (Perhaps from retreating?) I backed it up with a cam set in what appeared to be a solid crack and yelled "Steve, off belay!" Later we would find it funny that we were using our names being the only people on the mountain. I brought Steve in and we contemplated the next pitch.
We were on top of the first large gendarme on the route. The way off was a steep 5.7 downclimb. We couldn't exactly see which way would continue on the ridge or start us down the face. Luckily for me it was Steve's turn to lead out. Unluckily for me it meant that I would follow the downclimb, which means I would have the danger of leading it. I told Steve to place gear early and often. He led off down the gendarme and off to where his headlamp darted about a bit here and there. Steve was low on gear and trying to build a suitable anchor. After a while of his headlamp darting, he finally yelled "off belay." And I was on my way.
When we were both on top of the gendarme, we contemplated numerous scenarios to get down it. One of which was both of us rapping off the anchor on top. (I told him I didn't like the anchor enough for that.) Another was for him to lead off on the down climb and for me to set up a top rope on the anchor to down climb it. This still relied on the top anchor too much and would also mean leaving gear. A similar option was to rappel off the top anchor after Steve down-climbed the pitch. If the top anchor failed, the top piece of gear should hold my fall. Well, we (or was it I) decided that downclimbing made the most sense. Assuming I didn't fall, there would be no reliance on gear. So I started down.
The climbing down the gendarme was marked by short difficult moves with good stances to finish. Steve placed gear so I would be roughly at a piece for the more difficult moves and should be able to still reach high to remove the gear at the good stances. I got to the first piece, a slung horn, and downclimbed below it. I had difficulty removing it and was about to leave it when I finally had success. Down to the next piece I continued. This continued for a bit until I got to a large slung block. Steve yelled up, "Leave the triple if you have to." I pulled the carabiner off the sling and used it as a hold to climb the next section. A few more lower angle moves and I was at Steve's position ready to continue.
I took what he had left of the rack and didn't bother to trade out the backpack and I continued down. The going was steep. I didn't remember this as well as the previous bits. Then I found a rock with a scar on it that Steve "was heading for" on his first pitch the previous day. I was on track. A bunch of steeper moves and I was back at the belay from the top of our first pitch. I brought Steve down and he arrived at my location with the sentiment that down climbing is hard. Yes, especially in the dark. We discussed where he should head. (We both figured walkable terrain was not too far below us.) And he headed out.
After a few slower moments I was paying out rope quickly. Steve reached walking terrain. Now he had to find an anchor. He built an anchor and belayed me in. We were back at the notch with our stashed gear.
It was around 4:30am and we had been moving for 22 hours straight. Shortly after reaching the notch we heard rock/icefall lower down. We decided to wait until daylight to continue. It was nice to be out of rock shoes for the first time in 19 hours. We put all our clothes on, and just hung out at the notch, glad to be on safer terrain.
My pics are here.
"The Descent"
Steve's glory from the summit (photo by Steve Machuga)Josh and Matt had told us that it took them about one and half hours to get back to the notch from the summit using the East Ledge descent. They said it was five rappels and then there were cairns on each rib on the traverse back. Most people avoid this descent because as Nelson states "climbers find this 3rd and 4th class descent route to be loose and stressful." Josh and Matt gave us confidence that we should have no problems with it. Plus at 7pm our only other option was to continue down the west ridge, which could not have been faster. If all went well, we should be back at the notch before the sun set.
Steve belayed me quickly back to the summit rap anchor. This was a mess of old slings on a horn on the ridge. The horn appeared sound enough, but we decided to add a sling as all the slings seemed old and tattered. The first rappel appeared to be the steepest. And we could see the next two rap stations from there.
I headed out first careful not to put too much weight on the anchor. About halfway down, Steve yelled to hurry up as it was 7:20pm. We made it to the next anchor which was no less scary than the top anchor and proceeded to rappel. A few raps down and we had difficulty finding the next rap stations. Steve led off on the next rap while I stashed the rack in the pack. By the time we were done with five raps it was a little dark and we could not see any cairns on the first rib. A lot of the beta and the climbeing ranger stated that the big mistake most people make is not descending enough. So, we made a sixth rap.
Still no sign of a cairn on the rib, we decided to head east. Perhaps we'd see it on the next rib? While not fully dark, it was a little too dark to see anything resembling a ledge that is what the route is supposed to traverse. So we carefully picked our way east as the sun set on us. We headed to what appeared to be a cairn on perhaps the second rib over but the ground got too difficult to reach it. (So we assumed it was not correct.) We saw a rap anchor nearby and were able to reach that. Anchored in, we rested our minds a bit, but wanted to keep moving. Now under head lamp, we made another rappel. Steve liked what he saw at the bottom and told me to come down. Once at the end of the rope, there were some larger, more comfortable ledges to stand on. We eyed the next rib and saw easier terrain going to it. We headed toward it.
Once on the rib, we identified a cairn. We were on route. But now it was dark and losing the route could be easy. The terrain and especially the ribs were rocky with many horns and blocks. A cairn could easily hide among all the other spikes on the rib. We continued slowly eastward toward the next rib. The night scrambling was stressful. We took a few minor breaks on larger ledges to rest our brains and take in the beauty of the sky. Unfortunately, there were no spots suitable for a bivy. No ledges were large enough to really sit or lay on, and none offered anchors to tie into. With a possibility of rockfall, our safest option was to keep moving off this technical terrain.
We neared the next rib and could see what looked like a cairn. But by headlamp it could also have been just a horn. We discussed it a bit. Then we headed toward it. It was yet another cairn. We were still on track!
We attempted to maintain a level crossing to the next rib. Going was slow. We kept looking up to the ridge to see if we were under the "solitary gendarme" that marks the start of the route. We reached the next rib to find another cairn. We were still on route and we appeared to be under the gendarme. Time to head up.
Having talked to the ranger and Josh and Matt they all stated that most people take the gully back up to the notch, but that it is preferred to stay on the rib just west of the gully as it is easier terrain. But where we were currently the gully offered the best terrain and we started our upward climb on grassy ledges and blocks. People had clearly been this way, but it did not necessarily look like a well traveled path. After some distance upward, we regained the rib again as that offered easier terrain. We were getting excited. The climbing was getting more stressful. The last bits to the ridge crest were probably low 5th class that we had to solo to make it to the top. Once there, our hearts sank. We headed up too early. We were at the location that marked the end of our fourth pitch earlier that day. (Or technically the day before.)
It was around 1:30am and we had four pitches to climb to return to the relative safety of the notch. We were out of water and hadn't drank any in hours. Nor would we be anywhere soon where we could replenish. We could build an anchor and huddle together until daylight, or we could climb out while we still were running on adrenalin. We sat about a bit admiring the stars and lights of Bellingham before making a decision. (Who knew you could see Forbidden from Bellingham?) The ridge was cold and windy, we wouldn't get any real rest, so we decided to climb. We both felt relief to finally be anchored back into the mountain again.
Steve suggested we lead the same pitches we led earlier as we may remember them. (It seemed like a week ago that we were on the ridge in the daylight. It made our South Early Winter Spire climb seem like last month!) I told him I remembered this pitch to be exposed. He told me it wouldn't matter as you couldn't feel the exposure in the dark.
So I took the rack out of the pack and racked up to lead a pitch on the ridge in the dark. As my headlamp illuminated the terrain it came back to me. Climb over this horn, traverse this rib, over another horn. I was determined to get it done. I stumbled upon the anchor where Steve belayed me on the pitch earlier. It was a sling someone left there. (Perhaps from retreating?) I backed it up with a cam set in what appeared to be a solid crack and yelled "Steve, off belay!" Later we would find it funny that we were using our names being the only people on the mountain. I brought Steve in and we contemplated the next pitch.
We were on top of the first large gendarme on the route. The way off was a steep 5.7 downclimb. We couldn't exactly see which way would continue on the ridge or start us down the face. Luckily for me it was Steve's turn to lead out. Unluckily for me it meant that I would follow the downclimb, which means I would have the danger of leading it. I told Steve to place gear early and often. He led off down the gendarme and off to where his headlamp darted about a bit here and there. Steve was low on gear and trying to build a suitable anchor. After a while of his headlamp darting, he finally yelled "off belay." And I was on my way.
When we were both on top of the gendarme, we contemplated numerous scenarios to get down it. One of which was both of us rapping off the anchor on top. (I told him I didn't like the anchor enough for that.) Another was for him to lead off on the down climb and for me to set up a top rope on the anchor to down climb it. This still relied on the top anchor too much and would also mean leaving gear. A similar option was to rappel off the top anchor after Steve down-climbed the pitch. If the top anchor failed, the top piece of gear should hold my fall. Well, we (or was it I) decided that downclimbing made the most sense. Assuming I didn't fall, there would be no reliance on gear. So I started down.
The climbing down the gendarme was marked by short difficult moves with good stances to finish. Steve placed gear so I would be roughly at a piece for the more difficult moves and should be able to still reach high to remove the gear at the good stances. I got to the first piece, a slung horn, and downclimbed below it. I had difficulty removing it and was about to leave it when I finally had success. Down to the next piece I continued. This continued for a bit until I got to a large slung block. Steve yelled up, "Leave the triple if you have to." I pulled the carabiner off the sling and used it as a hold to climb the next section. A few more lower angle moves and I was at Steve's position ready to continue.
I took what he had left of the rack and didn't bother to trade out the backpack and I continued down. The going was steep. I didn't remember this as well as the previous bits. Then I found a rock with a scar on it that Steve "was heading for" on his first pitch the previous day. I was on track. A bunch of steeper moves and I was back at the belay from the top of our first pitch. I brought Steve down and he arrived at my location with the sentiment that down climbing is hard. Yes, especially in the dark. We discussed where he should head. (We both figured walkable terrain was not too far below us.) And he headed out.
After a few slower moments I was paying out rope quickly. Steve reached walking terrain. Now he had to find an anchor. He built an anchor and belayed me in. We were back at the notch with our stashed gear.
It was around 4:30am and we had been moving for 22 hours straight. Shortly after reaching the notch we heard rock/icefall lower down. We decided to wait until daylight to continue. It was nice to be out of rock shoes for the first time in 19 hours. We put all our clothes on, and just hung out at the notch, glad to be on safer terrain.
My pics are here.
Cliff Ice at High Falls
Today felt more like a spring day than a December day, with temperatures approaching 40 degrees and rain falling all afternoon. The mild day made for a pleasant walk in the woods (well, before the rain started it was pleasant). I decided to take advantage of the warm weather and took a walk to High Falls on the Pigeon River in Grand Portage State Park. Along the walk to the falls there were tracks everywhere... from squirrels, birds, rabbits and mink to dogs (accompanying their human companions on their own walks to the falls). The cliff that High Falls drops over was amazing, with incredible ice formations everywhere along the rocks that make up the face of the cliff. This particular composition was just to the right of the main flow of water as it drops over the falls. This was taken with my 100-400mm lens fully extended at 400mm.
Saturday, June 6, 2015
Retrovelo Klara: Cushy, Zippy, Gorgeous
On a recent trip to New York City, I test rode a Retrovelo Klara, courtesy of Adeline Adeline. There are already test ride reports of other Retrovelo models posted here, but the last time I rode one was two years ago and I wanted to see how my impressions of the bike might have changed since. Also, while the Retrovelo I rode previously was the 7-speed Paula, I was curious how the 3-speed Klara would feel in comparison. Finally, my previous Retrovelo test rides took place in Austria and I wanted to compare how the bike handled in a North American city.
Founded in 2003, Retrovelo is a German manufacturer based in the town of Leipzig. True to the company's name, their classic line of lugged, balloon-tire city bikes in muted colours looks almost overwhelmingly nostalgic. But the "retro" reference is more nuanced than what meets the eye: Behind the facade of an elegant European city bicycle, the Retrovelo is actually a remake of an early mountain bike design. I have described an entire category of such bicycles in an earlier post aboutcity bikes with mountain bike heritage.
An interesting fact about Retrovelo, is that they were the first company to use the now very popular Schwalbe Fat Frank tires. In fact these were originally made for Retrovelo and named after its designer Frank Patitz. What made the Fat Franks special when they appeared on the market, is that they have the look and cushiness of vintage balloon tires but are impressively fast rolling - making them ideal for navigating pothole ridden city streets and unpaved trails alike.
The frame is cro-moly steel, hand-built in Taiwan and finished and assembled in Leipzig (The very first batches of Retrovelo bikes were made in Germany from scratch, but production has since been reorganised).
Fully lugged, the most fetish-worthy aspect of the frame's construction is the triple-plate fork crown.
Here is what the seat cluster looks like.
Headtube lug.
Loop and seat tube junction.
The stem and rear rack are custom made for the bike and powdercoated body colour, as are the chainguard and fenders.
The components on the lady's 3-speed Klara model are pretty straightforward: Shimano Nexus drivetrain withfront and rear roller-hub brakes and dynamo hub,wide swept-back handlebars, large Retrovelo-branded bell,
front and rear dynamo lights with standlight feature,
Brooks B67S saddle,
city pedals,
and textured rubber grips.
As a complete package, the Retrovelo Klara comes together nicely, equipped with everything necessary for transportation, other than a full chaincase and dressguards. The men's equivalent of this model is named Klaus and is basically the same except a diamond frame. The Paula and Paul models are the same as well, only built up with either a 7 or 8-speed hub instead of the 3-speed. The weight of the Klara model is listed as 38.5lb. It is available in size 52cm only and in a number of colour options. You can view all the stock colours here. The bike I test rode is ivory.
I rode the Retrovelo Klara around lower Manhattan for a total of about 5 miles. This was my first time cycling in New York City. I started out on the quiet side street where Adeline Adeline is located, then rode along the West Side Highway bicycle path for a while, then got off the path and explored the streets, making my way back to the bike shop. Probably half of my route involved riding with traffic on streets that either had no bike lane, or had the bike lane obstructed by so many vehicles that I took the car lane anyway.
Riding in a new city - and especially a city as hectic as NYC - I would not feel comfortable doing this on just any bike, but the Retrovelo's handling is confidence-inspiring. The front end is exceptionally stable: No twitchiness when starting from a stop or getting up to speed. The bicycle goes where you point it and insists on staying upright.
I would describe the Retrovelo as an intuitive bike that does not require getting used to the way a Dutch bike, or a low-trail bike, or an aggressive roadish bike might. To the typical person of my generation who grew up in North America, I think "mountain bike-ish" handling generally feels pretty intuitive: Many of us rode mountain bikes as teenagers and it's what we are used to. While I was a terrible cyclist back then, I nonetheless used my beater mountain bike to get around and probably on some level that type of handling is still engrained into my procedural memory. Of course the Retrovelo is considerably faster and more responsive than my old mountain bike ever was, as well as far more beautiful. Win/win.
Comparing the Retrovelo Klara to other bikes I have ridden in its class, I would say the handling is most similar to the Scottish Paper Bike and the Swedish Pilen. For me the Retrovelo handles considerably faster than the Pilen but a bit slower than the Paper Bike, while behaving similarly to both as far as balance and maneuverability.
As far as load capacity, the bike is equipped to carry considerable weight in front and rear, including children. Retrovelo owner K., whom I met in NYC, routinely rides with her toddler and a full load of groceries and finds it quite comfortable. She has had her stone gray Retrovelo for a couple of years now and loves it. My friend in Vienna has had her pigeon blue one for about two years as well. Retrovelo owners generally tend to have good things to say about these bikes.
As far as drawbacks, the Klara and Paula models are only available in one size - which happens to fit me perfectly but will not be suitable for everyone. At just under 40 lb, the bike is on the heavy side and could be challenging to deal with for those who plan to store it in a walk-up apartment. The missing dressguards and the lack of a full chaincase could be a deal-breaker for those who require these accessories. And some (myself included) would prefer narrower handlebars, though these can be swapped out.
Having ridden the Retrovelo around hectic NYC, my impression of the bike did not differ significantly from what it had been riding it through the Austrian countryside. Two additional years of cycling experience did not alter my impressions much either. I believe the stable handling makes the Retrovelo a good choice for beginners. The responsiveness and mountain-bikeyness make it a cool ride for more experienced cyclists. The beautiful construction makes it appealing to the vintage lovers and lugwork fetishists among us. For city riding, I felt that the 3-speed model was definitely sufficient, though others might opt for the 7/8-speed. The current retail price for a fully equipped Retrovelo Klara is $1,450 USD.
While personally I still prefer my cruddy vintage 3-speeds to anything modern I have tried in the same genre so far, when it comes to currently produced city bicycles the Retrovelo is firmly among my favourites. Many thanks to Adeline Adeline for the test ride.
Wednesday, June 3, 2015
Cats
I was posting a photo and a little info on each of my 6 horses, 3 dogs, and -opppps - I didn't do the 3 cats. (I think I got sidetracked by the eclipse and the shipwrecks.) We do have 3 cats. Only 3 at this time. The number of cats has varried over the years. We went as high as 7 at one time, but that is way to many for one house. Now we are back to 3 which is a much more managable number to have. I think the first pet I ever had was a dog. A rough coat Collie named Sport. I know there are photos of me with him when I less than a year old. He had been my granddad's dog but when he died just before I was born my parents took him. He wasn't a young dog even then.
After that there were a string of cats. I don't remember them but there were a few photos. I don't know why, but I really love cats. I have done without cats, dogs, and horses, for years on end in my life (and managed to live over it) but I don't think I could ever do without a cat again. I love my horses and dogs dearly but cats are really special. I don't think I have been without a cat since I was about 14 years old. That was a long time and a total of 20 different cats. Some didn't make it very long for one reason or another. But most have lived a long life to go on to a well deserved place in Cat Heaven. Right now we have Jade, K.C., and Murphy. This photo is of K.C. . Eight years ago she came to the door as a tiny kitten, screamed and screamed that she needed to live with us and finally had her way. We don't know where she came from and couldn't find anyone to claim her, so she became one of the family. Her name is short for Kitty Cat. Named by my then teenage son. Now isn't that orginal. K.C is the kind of cat that regardless where she decides to lay down she can look totally and completely comfortable. With all the cats I have had, and cats are known for looking comfortable, K.C. takes it to extreames. I just wish I could do as well at relaxing as she does. K.C. is also, an excelent mouser, and gets along better with the dogs than the other two cats do. In fact she is not sociable with the other cats at all. Even after knowing Jade, (who is 10) all her life and Murphy ( who is 5) all of his, she still hisses, and spits at them if they come close to her. She diffently perfers the company of my husband and myself over other cats, but will run and hide if we have visitors.
Tuesday, June 2, 2015
Tubing with Nathan and Lauren
Next up was Lauren with Nathan. Nathan says he had fun. I think he was only out there about five minutes though so I don't know that he was the hugest fan. He says he flew up in the air higher than everyone else and had more spray in his face. I think he needs a bigger tube, because he is just too tall for this one!
Monday, June 1, 2015
All Eggs Great and Small
My blog friend Shannon over at the Not So Virtual Homestead was writing recently about a huge egg that one of her chickens surprised her with.
We got a surprise too, but it was in the opposite direction.
One of the Dominique chickens must have gotten tired of laying normal eggs, and left us this tiny one.
A normal Dominique egg is on the left for comparison.
I didn't realize until I uploaded the pictures, that the depth of field on the macro setting was so shallow that to have the little egg in sharp focus meant that the normal one was a little fuzzy. Oops.
By that time my curiosity had gotten the best of me and I'd already cracked open the lilliputian egg to see what it looked like inside. So, no do-overs.
The inside looked pretty much like a normal egg in miniature.
(My sister recently made a comment about my liberal use of 50-cent words, so I had to work in "lilliputian" just for her.)
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