I've Been So Very Lazy

Well, while I planned on writing here on a regular basis, it just didn't work out that way. I might try to do this regularly, but my track record is sketchy at best. Here goes:

Commuting Patterns and Oddities

 

Let's look at my travels to and from work. 

 

 

My current daily commute goes as follows:

• Out the door at 6:38 for a brisk, 5 minute walk to the bus stop about 3 blocks away
• Bus picks me up at 6:45 for a 14 minute ride that takes me to the Bassendean bus/train station
• I take the Midland line train from Bassendean to Perth central station, which takes about 25 minutes
• I disembark at Perth and race up the stairs and then down the stairs to my next train. I ride the Fremantle line all the way to it's end at Freo. This ride starts at about 7:30, with an arrival at about 7:48
• A brisk 5 block walk from the train station to The Department of Housing and Works takes about 8 mins, and I arrive at about 8:00....ready for work!

All told, that's 1 hour 22 minutes from door to door each way, 2 hours 44 minutes daily, and nearly 14 hours a week! That feels like a lot of my life is being spent going to and fro.

 

That being said, I find that there ARE some things I find interesting on the "road" each day. I see the same old man walking his dog every day as I zoom through the park right by our house. He's always at about the same place on his walk when I pass him, and he nods to me and I nod to him every day. I see several people on the bus every day, and while we don't greet each other per se, we always establish I contact. They sit in the same seat; I stand at the same spot.  Most everyone sits in their own seat, hoping no one will choose to sit with them on the "two-seaters". Some look much more aggressive at holding their seat than others, and those that convey positive body language get a seatmate somewhere along the route. I recognize many of the drivers too; one older fella that has a killer moustache drives faster than all the others, and clips the edges of the circles in the roundabouts every single day, and I watch everyone onboard as they jostle as he hits the edges...every time.

 

While I wait for the first train at Bassendean I frequently see the sun burst orange on the horizon in the five minutes I wait there. I also see many of the same commuters staking-out the spot they KNOW is going to be closest to the door of the least-crowded train car. I've become quite good at this game as I pay attention to the positioning each day and tweak and torque my own spot just a little as the days progress. Standing is my only option on this train no matter which car I choose as those that got on at the first few stations fill up all the seats. These riders convey a certain smugness to those of us "latecomers" and I try not to resent that, as I'll be one of them on my second train of the day.

 

It's interesting how my concept of "personal space" has altered so dramatically through my train travel. Gone is the thought that people shouldn't impinge on what I previously believed was a sacred zone around my body. While it's nothing like the trains in Tokyo where white overall clad "packers" shove people together like sardines in a can, Pertherts recognize the need to squeeze. I now know to put my bag down between my feet (Kindle removed and in hand, iPod loaded and in place) once I've taken my suitable spot, 'cause I'll not get another chance to reach down 'til I'm in the city and changing trains.

 

While Bassendean-boarders rarely get a seat, they all DO get on. Those further down the track towards town are not so lucky. Bayswater is the next major stop, and the crowds that gather around the doors start to get serious about finding a spot once we load-up the train cars there. Maylands is the next burg of note, and I always look out the windows as we pull up there for the customary 20 second stop. The looks on the  faces of those that jockey for position there, ranges from irritation to mild fear to outright panic as they realize there's simply no way they'll get a chance to board. I wonder how many will be late for work simply because they live too far down the track?

 

Perth station is controlled chaos as the morning crowd weaves up the various staircases and escalators, all moving in patterns much like schools of fish colliding on the reef. All it takes is a slow-walking senior citizen or a mom with a toddler (or God forbid a confused tourist!) to wreak havoc with the frantic flows of humanity. People move with steely determination and you don't want to mess with that.

 

These people are just a little different than those that ended their rides in Perth. Gone now are the bankers, clerks, and all those that I deem "downtown folk". Now we've got students in their crisp uniforms with matching backpacks and violin cases, nannies headed for the wealthy suburbs, and a few like me that are headed all the way to Freo. Some head to the University there, or the port for a stevedore job loading ships, or even to something as mundane as work at a restaurant catering to tourists. 

 

As I pass through the wealthy suburb of Cottesloe, the train splits the Swan river on one side, and the ocean on the other. Suddenly the coastline reveals itself to the west, and the sun slants low from the east, softly lighting the massive container ships lined up in the harbour. I sometimes see dolphins breaching in the tidewater at the river mouth, and it's then that I think this commute may not be so hellish. I could be stuck in a car, in gridlock traffic, surrounded by concrete in a gray city.

 

I offload in Freo and smell the ocean as soon as the doors part. Aussies think it's cold and take the opportunity to show-off their new scarves and jackets. My thick blood thinks it's perfect and I stride with purpose down the street to my job. I pass a beautiful church in the square filled with vendors setting-up their stands. I might come back there for a lunch of spring rolls or kebabs or sausage rolls.

 

This is how I start my weekday.

 



Snowbound

While anyone that knows me, knows I love Winter, the protracted mild weather we had in Sept-Dec spoiled me into thinking I'd be able to ride my bike throughout...and that just ain't happenin'. I love the snow, but I don't love snow that sticks around. I believe snow should come in with a bang, but leave while the fans are still enjoying the show. Old snow is like an old band that just doesn't have it anymore, but keeps touring.
Rode to Target today, but it was treacherous. The bike paths are still icy, and the roads aren't a lot better. Still, any ride is better than not riding. The fat tires make a huge difference, but I had to pay attention regardless. First ride with my iPod, and I should probably pretend I never did that and go back to hearing road sounds only. I just don't think I can ride competently with music in my ears. We'll see.
Was hoping to coordinate with Wayne to see the Christo exhibit showing in town, but my schedule is rather full, and it doesn't look like that'll happen.
Seeing "Danielle Ate The Sandwich" with Nate and his significant other tonight at some local pub...that should be FUN!.
-r

It's Time To Hit The Road!

While I don't expect to know where I'm travelling months or years in advance, it is a bit odd to throw a big trip together just a few weeks before departure. Weird for most people I should say, but it's downright normal when it comes to travelling with Greg.

This will be something like our 8th(?) trip together outside the U.S. Let's see if I can list them here: Costa Rica, Nicaragua, Bonaire, Mexico, Nepal, El Salvador, Slovenia/Italy, and now it's Vietnam/Cambodia/Thailand on this go-round we've slated for Feb! (I sure hope I'm not forgetting one, as he'd razz me incessantly.)

He has been in "uber-vacation-research-mode" for the last month or so, and we'd just about talked ourselves into going to Majorca when we suddenly reversed course and locked-onto Vietnam instead. It's riskier in terms of flights, much further away, much more expensive, and just a lot more work than the trip around that beautiful island in the Med, but we both think we better do something LARGER......... like Asia...while we still can. The flight route to get there is daunting to think about: Den-Chicago/LA-Tokyo-Guangzhou(China)-Ho Chi Minh......most of that standby.

Now, I scramble to get everything done: had to get a new passport, then ship it right back out for a visa for Vietnam, then I'm getting a bunch of shots my doc thinks I need, then off to the dentist so I don't have to get work done in a bamboo clinic somewhere in da jungle, then, then, then.....

Should be fun!

-r

That Unique Squeak

No lift lines. No lift tickets. No $500 skis, and no Texans in outfits as loud as they are. I really don't miss skiing...not a bit. Snowshoeing is the ticket for me. My shoes cost $60, and I bought them a dozen years ago. I'm confident the'll last longer than I will.

There's something special about the sounds of shoeing; a certain "snow squeak" as you make contact with the ground, a satisfying crunching, squeaking, clumping sound that soothes your soul as you wend your way through pines that are a hundred feet tall.

I got up before dawn and made a beeline straight for Brainard Lake on this fine Christmas morning. While it seems to take forever to get there, the payoff is well worth it. A total of two cars in the lot, and I didn't see a single person for over two hours of hiking up and back from the lake. Plenty of snow on the ground, temperature around twenty, and not a whisp of wind......perfect!

Like my addiction to cycling and hiking, I'm sure I need the squeak once in a while to make the rest of life bearable.

Merry Christmas to me!

What to name the baby?

As referenced below, I spent entirely too much time going back/forth looking at potential bikes. I THINK I made the best choice, but who knows? I've done a couple of substantive rides, and the differences between this steel tourer and my road bike are startling.
I've been racking my brain trying to think of an analogy to make it something reachable when describing it to non-riders. The road bike is twitchy and brittle, while the tourer is soft and smooth. While it takes more effort to get it going, it doesn't seem like that much more effort, and my averages are climbing up toward respectable again. The joy of being able to carry my camera, clothing, and then to EASILY walk around when I get off the bike are huge for me. I need to remember I have the camera with me, as I've ridden so long without it, I'll forget unless I keep reminding myself to stop and take a pic once in a while.
Rode further yesterday than I ever have (67), and while I'm on a new bike, with new geometry and a new saddle, riding on crummy pants with a terrible chamois....I'm not sore today! Woooooooooo!
Now, I need to make the effort to commute on this beauty!

-r

My New Toy

"That only took 3 months........right?"

After spending WAYYYYYYY TOO MUCH TIME comparing/contrasting, researching blogs/ sites, shipping, store options.....I have finally purchased a bike from REI. That nutty looking touring bike with the butterfly trekking bars will be delivered to the Denver Flagship store for assembly sometime between the 10th-16th.

It's another one of those odd color combination that REI/Novara is (in)famous-for. A "Baby Shit" Brown with Olive and White acccents around the logos. It's gonna get even uglier when I add black fenders. I'll likely go with "flip flop" pedals eventually for touring, but I might keep the old-style clip/cage pedals on it for a while? I think it will be quite refreshing to forego those silly shoes for a bit.

So, as to tricking it out....along with the fenders, I want a better computer (cadence info would be good), I'll prolly wait on the pedal change, put a bell on it, maybe a light, maybe a mirror, a second bottle cage, and maybe a trunk bag (since it'll already have the rear rack). The one guy at the store said that the saddle that comes stock is a good one, and that swapping it out as junk would be a mistake. That surprised me, as it seems that saddles and racks are almost always ditched from stock tourers as trash right at purchase. I may hold-off on getting my Brooks and see how this thing feels for a few rides first. The rack should be good enough for small loads/commuting and since I'd think peremptorily trading-up for something better has no advantage to just buying later, I'll leave that thing alone for now as well.

I wavered between this thing and the Surly LHT, and just couldn't find the combination I needed: a store I like/trust to build it free, then fit it free, then support my purchase through killer warranty, tuneups and such. To get the Surly I was going outside the bounds of that dynamic that I felt was important, so I said no.......plus it's at least $250 more.

Now, about those funky handlebars.......I sure hope they're worth the extra weight and bulk. Hope I have comfortable, effective hand placements for all sorts of grades and winds, like I expect. Drop bars are what I know and love, and these are a radical departure from that style. It'd sure be bonus if I could lean on them like Aero bars, but that may be pure folly....?

Grip SRAM shifters? They're supposed to be decent, low maintenance, "intuitive" shifters. I hope so!....again, a big change.....along with horizontal break handles.

Brakes might also need an upgrade, but I'll wait to see how the real possibility of "pass-crossing, multi-day, self-supporting Colorado touring" develops.

Did I just spend a bunch of money foolishly?

We shall seeeeeeeeeeeeee.........

-r

The Pass Is My Master

6/25/2010

Of the majestic passes that grace Colorado, Gore barely merits mention. It's now garnered my undivided, loving but respectful attention.
My first attempt was more than two years ago, and I severely underestimated "the impact of UP". Racing up her flanks in a car, you kid yourself at how easy it might be. Now, I'm more fit and smarter, and definitely more respectful, but again I am denied. By starting out about five miles from the turn at Kremmling, I'm thinking "how hard can it be? We're only talking about 1600' of vertical over 6.5 miles."
Clouds racing by and looking like they feel left-out.....a bit menacing, but no real winds yet. I stop CONSTANTLY for breath, but I slowly wend my way up her side.
The Pine Bark Beetle has devastated Grand County. A hundred shades of rust surround me as I puff and pant my way up this mountain. It's me and the trees, and not much else. The few vehicles I see tend to be trucks; trucks pulling boats and campers. Maybe because the travellers look "local", I seem to garner some respect and breadth in passing...even a wave once or twice.
There is nothing quite like air at altitude. It's a pine on your tongue. A dry purity that's intoxicating.
I'm within two miles when the rain starts; within one, when the hail starts. I'm thinking I'll find a tree to hide under when the lightning crackles and the air becomes electric all around me. My bike is aluminum and this fact is not lost on me. I turn tail and flee. I'm racing the rain line; the rain is heavy but when I steal a quick glance, I'm doing more than 40 mph!
Soaked and cold, I reach the car in a fraction of the time I spent climbing this beauty...and that's ok. I'll ride up her another day.
Just me and the trees.
-r