Fountain

I do not remember this large fountain being in the Patio Market the last time I was here but it looks like it has been here forever. Inside of it somewhere was a pump that kept the water constantly circulating so that it looked like the bucket was always spilling water out.

The Bicycle as Art Model

I try to keep my non-bicycle-related life separate from this weblog. However, I have already mentioned that I am an artist and support myself financially with an academic dayjob. Well, this week the bicycle world and my professional life collided. That is to say, I used a bicycle in one of my art projects. Here is the Co-Habitant dismantling the tripod after a photoshoot on the South Boston waterfront. And that's Velouria in the background, next to the two wooden chairs.

My art is a little difficult to describe. Technically, I am a painter. But before I paint, I create the fictional worlds depicted in those paintings by making series of photographic "tableaux-style" stills. This part is done by both myself and the Co-Habitant as a team: We work together, where he is the technical expert and I am the set designer. We both take the photos, but he is responsible for setting up the technical aspects of the shots and I am responsible for the composition. We use manual film cameras and usually black and white film. But we always have a digital camera along, because it is useful for testing out compositional ideas, getting a sense of the lighting, and so on. So these are some of the pictures off of the digital camera that were taken during the photoshoot. Some were for compositional and light metering purposes, but in others we were just fooling around.

The idea here was to set up an environment that combined notions of indoor and outdoor space.We then enacted a variety of metaphorical scenes using this set-up.

The above picture is an example of "bad composition" that we, thankfully, caught on the digital camera before wasting expensive film on these shots. See how my feet overlap with the bicycle wheel? That's no good; the chair should be further away. For things like that, a quick little digital camera is extremely useful.

A much better composition, for a different scene.

Well, that's enough of the pretentious artsy shots. Here is another one of the Co-Habitant after the photoshoot was done. I was very proud to have captured the full moon here.

And here I am. I really hope that Velouria does not let this shoot go to her head. It's one thing to be featured on a bicycle blog, but being an art model is altogether different!

The Cyclist's Dwelling

When I talk to cyclists who have recently moved or are looking to move house, most admit that bikes influence the location and layout criteria for their new place. Usually this admission is made sheepishly, with some embarrassment that cycling plays such a prominent role in their lives. Me, I don't bother to be embarrassed anymore. Cycling is not the most important thing in my life, but it is up there. It is also more intertwined with the other important things now than it was before. And it is crucial to my sanity. It follows that any place I live must be bicycling friendly.




As far as location, this can mean different things for different types of cyclists. For some it means being in the middle of a city with good bicycle infrastructure. For others it means being close to good roadcycling - hilly country roads, or networks of dirt roads, or mountain bike trails. For others still the ideal cycling location is climate dependent. And for others, it's dependent on proximity to clubs, races, randonneuring groups, "cycle chic" get-togethers, or other types of cycling-specific communities. Of all these things, for me it is easy access to good back roads and dirt roads that is on top of the list. While I love a city with good infrastructure and loved living in Vienna for that reason, I know that I can also function without it with fairly little stress. And while I appreciate a close-knit cycling community, at heart I am a loner and do just as well on my own. But when it comes to access to open roads, it's more than a matter of liking it or appreciating it, it is a matter of needing it. Living on the edge of town in Boston (rather than deeper in the city) is wonderful, because it allows for easy escape from the congested urban tangle. And living in rural Northern Ireland is a dream, because a network of country roads starts straight out the front door. I would not do well living in an area without easy access to good roadcycling.




As far as the layout of a house or apartment, I am pretty easy: I like a ground floor entrance for dragging my bike out the door. While I joke about having a farm with a bike shed, in reality I am quite content to cram my bikes into a small apartment space. But I do want to be able to roll my bikes out the door with the minimum amount of stairs and narrow hallways. As it is, I am covered in bruises from the narrow hallways in my current place - never failing to hit myself on the shin with a pedal or on the thigh with a brake lever whilst getting my bike out the door.




For someone who loves bicycles, I am unusually indifferent to "bicycle art" - cycling themed photos, paintings, sculptures, housewares and such. But I do tend to have bike parts and tools lying around in a way that they become integrated into the very fabric of the house. After two weeks in my current place, my roadbike looks wonderfully at home leaning against the book case. And the random bike parts scattered throughout look natural mixed with the household objects and appliances. It's funny, because I only have one bike in the house right now (okay, and one more out on the porch), but somehow the place still has that "bikes live here and they are important" feel to it.




Grabbing Desdemona, I roll her out the door, and - cursing affectionately as I bang my ankle lightly on the derailleur - I pedal away and head for the hills, thankful for the quiet, cloudy Sunday morning, for the emerald green sea, and for the warm tiny place that awaits me and my bike upon our return.

The Catharsis of Seasonal Change

"It's over. Step away from the roadbike" I said to myself as gently as possible while watching the snow from the window. I was going to publish this over the weekend and title the post "The End." But then I decided that was far too dramatic, and that when titles like this come to mind the prudent thing to do is take a couple of days off from the blog. It's snow for goodness sake, not the end of the world. In fact, it is quite beautiful.And in retrospect I see that it has been cathartic - a resolution to a state of uncertainty.





After a productive and well-organised December I naïvely expected to keep going at the same rate in the new year. But January started out slow and difficult, and only grew more so as the weeks wore on. After the holidays there was suddenly a pile of work due all at once, which is a situation I never handle well. And the move to the new art studio proved more effortful to organise than I anticipated (How did I accumulate so many jars of congealed ...stuff? why do I never throw anything away? and why did I need such enormous canvases, and so many of them??). In the midst of this we had a special occasion to celebrate, and some financial decisions to make. My immune system kept faltering. I felt as if I were moving in slow motion while everything else spun around me faster and faster.







It took me a while to connect this unsettled, disorganised state of mind to a decrease in cycling. Soon after the holidays the roads had turned icy, so I hadn't been riding as much as during the previous month. Of course! I was coming down from a long endorphin high, and not in the midst of an existential crisis. What made it worse, was that since it hadn't started snowing yet, I kept thinking that I could/should be cycling. I kept waiting for the idyl of December to return, not willing to put my bike on the trainer just yet, stuck in limbo.






With the snow's arrival, the limbo finally ended and things became more clear-cut: "Right then. Bike on the trainer and you are done for the season. Now stop checking the weather obsessively, ride indoors while watching all the movies you've been meaning to catch up on,and get on with your life!" (Is it a bad sign when the snow speaks to you? No, no, don't answer that...)






This might sound strange coming from someone with a daily blog about bicycles, but I tend to downplay the importance of cycling in my "real" life, particularly roadcycling. It is my anti-athletic, anti-"jock" bias - a holdover from my teenage days as the angsty weird arty girl, for whom jocks were the enemy. Not very open-minded of me to carry that over, but at least I admit it. Cycling, important? Oh no, it means nothing to me compared to things like art and (real, not bloggery) writing. Oh this little blog? It's just some light-hearted stress relief. Hours a day in the saddle? It's just physical activity; it means nothing.But of course it can't possibly mean nothing. I need to admit to myself that cycling is important to me and that it integrates with the rest of my life whether I want to acknowledge it or not. Likewise, when I drastically decrease my time on the bike it will impact other aspects of my life. It will affect my mood, creativity and productivity. I was going through withdrawal, plain and simple.






The human mind is a funny thing, and once I became aware of all this, I felt better. Swiftly, we got me all moved into the new studio - thanks to the Co-Habitant's formidable lifting prowess and a magnificent zipcar pick-up truck. I even got a workout from carrying stuff up and down 3 flights of stairs, as the freight elevator in the building is not operational over the weekend. My calves are still hurting today from all that stair-climbing and it feels kind of nice. Maybe I should do this for fun in addition to walking and riding on the trainer, and all together that might keep me in shape till spring. Of course I could also cycle inside the studio(as demonstrated by the lovelybikeyface). Indoor mini-velodrome à laInterbike ?






As I write this, the heaps of snow are already half-gone and temperatures are mild again. It is possible that the roads will clear up completely and we will have a continuation of our mild winter. But I am going to take a break from roadcycling anyhow, because all the back-and-forth and the increasing concerns about icy roads on descents are making me way too neurotic and it's time to stop. Of course, transportation cycling continues as usual. Seasonal change is good, winter is beautiful, and finally I feel that the year is off to a good start. Now, could somebody please tell me what those purple berries are?..

Talk to Me About 'Off Road'...

Almost every cyclist I'm friendly with loves to ride off road. And when I admit that I don't love it so much, the reaction is that of dismay. "What? But you like Rivendell! But you write about randonneuring! But you showed so much promise cycling on those scenic beach trails!" Well yes... And yet I prefer pavement.



Of course, everyone has their own ideas of what "off road" is. For some, anything that's not paved qualifies. For others, only the really treacherous, narrow trails are worthy of the label. I tend to use the former definition, but often get corrected ("Oh, well that's not off road; that's just dirt roads!") - which of course only makes me feel more of a sissy. I can handle fire trails if they are packed dirt with occasional pebbles and roots, but I draw the line at loose gravel that slips out from under my tires, and trails fraught with large rocks and ditches that I need to navigate around at speed. It feels unsafe, and when I feel unsafe no amount of romantic photos or assurances that "it'll be fine!" from ride companions can induce me to go on. Maybe it'll be fine for them, but I need to think for myself and my brain screams "don't do it; you'll perish!"



But maybe I exaggerate. When we were in Rockport last weekend, the Co-Habitant lured me onto some trails ("we'll walk our bikes to the water") and I ended up riding on 23mm tires over dirt and gravel. I've also found myself intentionally taking my bikes on unpaved parts of local trails lately, maybe to test the waters.



As August approaches, people are talking about the D2R2 (Deerfield Dirt-Road Randonnée) - a notoriously hilly, strenuous ride through Western Massachusetts and Vermont, held entirely on winding dirt roads. I considered trying to do the "easy" (40 mile) route, but based on the stories I hear even that might be out of my league. It would be good to read a ride report from someone whose comfort zone is similar to mine, to get an accurate idea of what it is really like.



But wait a minute, why would I even want to go to something like the D2R2 if I don't enjoy cycling off road? Maybe because I want to like it, or keep hoping that I'll like it if I just give it another chance. There is so much beauty that can't be seen from paved roads, and it's a shame to miss it. Now if only I could learn to climb and descend on loose gravel without panicking and getting off my bike immediately!

One Last Chance...

Thursday, March 15th - - As I was driving east along Interstate 40 I decided to take the time to visit one of my favorite places – after all, I might not get back this way again, at least not any time soon. The Grand Canyon is only about 60 miles north of I-40 and it was simply not possible for me to pass it by, especially after I checked the weather report and found that it was going to be a beautiful day!



It was about 11:30 in the morning when I arrived to find the parking lots nearly full. I certainly wasn't expecting that!





Like most visitors, the first place I went was to Mather Point. As you can see, it was a bit crowded.





But the view from Mather Point is worth bumping elbows with other visitors or having to wait until someone moves away from the railing so you can get that “perfect” shot. The weather could not have been better. The temperature was in the low 60s and there was barely a breeze blowing. Also, the “blue haze” wasn't too bad either.



Because there were so many people and I had only a few hours, I decided to skip the western end of the rim trail. You had to walk or take the shuttle buses to see that side of the canyon and I had walked much of it the last time I was here. Instead, I went to get some lunch and then take the drive along the road to Desert View at the eastern end of the park.



While in the cafeteria line I learned why there were so many people here – it's Spring Break! I should have known but the thought just never crossed my mind.



It was a leisurely drive to Desert View (over four hours to drive 30 miles!) with stops at nearly every viewpoint along the way and spending as much time as desired at each one. The further along the drive, the fewer people there were. I took lots of pictures, but I also took time to simply sit in the sunshine and enjoy the gorgeous day and the awesome views.





The view from Grandview Point near the beginning of Desert View Drive.



This tree is amazing. Beyond words.



It looks so close, but 'tis far away. I think that foreground area is Cedar Ridge!



There will be a few more posts on my short visit to the Grand Canyon... so many pictures, and such a beautiful day!

Walk on the Desert

went for a walk on the desert the other day and saw some interesting plants. The dogs trailed something that was most likely a rabbit. Was a nice day.

About me

me









Claire MacLeodThanks for coming to have a look at my site. I’m Dave, I’m a climber from Scotland and I live in Letterfinlay in the Scottish highlands with my wife Claire and my cat Puss Puss. This is my blog about my climbing, my life and my work. My work these days is climbing, writing, coaching, lecturing and making films.I started climbing when I was 15 and climbed most of the hard rock and winter climbs in Scotland. For the last decade I’ve been making first ascents of as hard routes as possible in most climbing disciplines but especially trad, bouldering, sport climbing and winter climbing. My route Rhapsody was the first E11 graded climb in the world. My hardest climbs, Echo Wall (E11) and Anubis (XII) could be among the hardest summer and winter trad climbs in the world. I’ve also climbed 9a in sport climbing, V13/14 in bouldering and onsighted E7.People in the wider world of climbing tend to hear about my climbing through the well known films E11 or Echo Wall or my book 9 out of 10 climbers make the same mistakes.

Butterfly

It was a bit ragged but this little butterfly was still making it's way around the flowers yesterday.

My Bike is Not a Vacuum Cleaner! (or, a Little Romance Goes a Long Way)

An object is never just an object: It is a symbol for the experience it enables. It is a catalyst for a series of associations. It is a keeper and evoker of memories. An object can inspire, impress, or depress. An object can leave us cold or it can excite us. All of this depends on how we feel (or don't feel) about the experiences it symbolises.




This is why I cannot get on board with the idea that our relationship to the bicycle ought to be exclusively utilitarian, devoid of romance or sentimentality. In his discussions about developing a successful bicycle culture, the author of Copenhagenize.com likes to compare the Danish attitude towards the bicycle with that to the vacuum cleaner:

"We all have a vacuum cleaner, we've all learned how to use it and we all use it. But we don't go around thinking about our vaccum in the course of a day. Only when the bag is full do we roll our eyes and sigh. Kind of like when our tire is flat/chain is loose and we chuck our bike into the bike shop.

We don't have a 'stable' of vacuum cleaners. We don't ...wave at other 'avid' vacuum cleaning 'enthusiasts' whilst we clean. The relationship to our bicycles is the same as to our vacuum cleaners. They're both merely incredibly effective and useful tools for making our daily lives easier."

While I respect Mr. Colville-Andersen's work and agree with him on many issues, this insistence on stripping the bicycle of emotional and personal value is misguided and philosophically flawed.




Though on some level, both the bicycle and the vacuum cleaner are utilitarian objects, the type of experiences they represent could not be more different. A vacuum cleaner evokes associations with: order, work, domesticity, obligation, enclosed spaces, headache-inducing noise, and boredom. A bicycle evokes associations with: movement, freedom, independence, wind in your hair, the outdoors, and joy. It is only natural the the latter invites emotional connectedness and the former does not. An object is never just an object.



The fact that the bicycle performs the very practical function of transporting us from one place to another need not compete with the fact that it inspires romanticisation; the two things are not at odds. On the contrary: It seems to me that the very reason the bicycle is so appealing, is its potential to transform ordinary acts of everyday travel into magical experiences of beauty, fantasy, joy and freedom. My bike is not a vacuum cleaner, and I do not feel silly for loving it.

Happy (Another) Thanksgiving!

We drove down to Fort Lauderdale to spend the day with our kids. We have missed them so much. We were so happy to see Ambir. We were sad that we did not see Aric and Ashleigh today. We had a great time together, with those of us who were there.







There is nothing I am more grateful for on this earth than my family. While I've struggled at times to figure out the kind of Mom I want to be and then doing it, I have never struggled with loving these beautiful, amazing people. They have been one of the biggest inspirations of my life. I love taking pictures of them because I do love them so much.









It's nice that they are old enough to not fight for the most part, so I can enjoy them enjoying each other.





And since I was feeling sad over not seeing my grandkids today, I took a ton of pictures of the grandpups instead. The newest baby is Ambir's puppy Cairo and he's a doll.



Seriously, this is the most adorable face I've seen in awhile:





Happy Thanksgiving to all of you who we did not get to spend today with. We love you all.

High-Vis Rainbike, Anyone?

The past couple of days were rainy and dreary, and I've been sick in bed. Still, I managed to crawl to the door when the bell rang, and take delivery of an enormous package from Urbana Bikes - a Canadian manufacturer that has asked me to review this unusual creation. I opened the box and nearly jumped back from the burst of colour that greeted me. I'd requested a bike in "olive," which on the manufacturer's website looks like this. In person it resembles an exotic poisonous mushroom. "Oh boy, I should have asked for black!" was my initial thought. But as I continued to stare, the neon shade began to grow on me. At least it offered a cheerful contrast to the dark gray skies and pelting rain outside. I dragged the bike outdoors for some quick snapshots, half-hoping the rain would mistake it for the sun and stop... and believe it or not, it did, if only for a few minutes.



The Urbana bicycle is a rather extraordinary cross between a BMX bike, a mountain bike, and a Dutch transport bike with large hauling capacity. But I will elaborate on all of that once it's time to review it. What struck me today, was how remarkably vibrant the "poisonous mushroom" colour looked in rainy weather. I walked away from the bike, stood to the side, turned around partially - but as long as it was even peripherally in my field of vision, it commanded attention. I look forward to comparing my experience in traffic on this "hi-vis" bicycle, to my own, neutrally coloured bikes.



We are still in the process of adjusting the bike's components and I was not in a condition to cycle yesterday anyhow, but I will share my impressions once I begin to ride it. This is the first time I'll be reviewing a bicycle that isn't mine beyond a single test ride, so it should be interesting. I am still ironing out the logistics with the manufacturer, but after my review the Urbana will go to a new home.



Normally I am not a fan of hi-vis anything, but I make an exception in inclement weather and I think that neon bicycles would make good "rainbikes."How many of you ride brightly coloured bikes - either because you prefer the colours, or for the sake of visibility? And do any of you have dedicated rainbikes?

Happy Mother's Day!

Mom and Me - Summer of '49
If you'd like, please revisit my post from last year on Mothers and Grandmothers.