That's more like it

 My promise to myself was that if the temp went above 40 I would walk outside; rain or shine. Or snow on the ground. So today it was back to Valley Forge's Mt Joy and Mt Misery for a 3.6 mile, 1+25 walk. Lovely. I had forgotten how much nicer it is to walk outdoors. It was a little muddy/slushy in parts, but overall the footing was fair to good (I always use hiking poles). I started out with an SPF50 body shirt, under an SPF30 hoodie (thin), under a down vest under a down puffy jacket, with a fleece hat and wool gloves. 30 minutes in I shed the puffy, 15 min later I shed the vest, then the fleece hat and gloves. In the end, after the ups and downs and 3.6 miles, I was quite comfortable in just the hoodie/body shirt, and blue jeans. It was great to be able to shed just the right amount to keep from sweating. Note to self. I could have done with gators to protect my lower legs from the slush/mud kicked up by my feet. 

Boots felt better than they do on the treadmill, which makes me feel better about the size. I didn't need an 8 but the 7.5 is -just- big enough (the group think is to go 1/2 size bigger for hiking boots as your feet swell over a hike). I think I like 'em. 

Ordered a new 32Degrees rain jacket today, dammit. Checked EVERYWHERE I could have left mine, and just couldn't find it. Also some NixWax spray on rainproofing to double up. 

On a side note: props to whomever XC skied along the trail! Unbelievable! No easement, lots of rocks and trees, and serious slope up/down involved. Need to get myself over there when there's a good snow. 

29JAN2022

 Another 1+15 at 3.5mph for 4.2 miles or so on the treadmill. 12.5# pack and 2x3# hand weights. 

Today's diversion was the Marianas Turkey Shoot and the Battle of the Philippine Sea in WWII. Odd to hear names and see places that I have actually been, and feel in some small way what the pilots who flew over those waters felt. The History Channel made it seem heroic, and decisive - I know from experience that there were a lot of soiled flight suits and 'decisions' made much later than they should have been; but the facts remain. Now here we are, 80 year later, still affected by the 'success' of our nation in that war. Arrogant, self-centered know-it-all's. We won because of a confluence of circumstances that allowed us tom mobilize, finally, resources in our one country that it would have taken a fully united Europe to muster. 

Then I watched a bit of a May transit of the Wainwright C-to-C in MISERABLE weather. Laughing all the way through rain and WIND and snow. 

Kelli did exercises today, for 30 minutes of stretching and strengthening. She's doing a great job of preparing and is excited not only for the Cotswold Way but anything else that catches her fancy. Maybe even a Camino? 

I also semi-casually mentioned that I had been considering flying the Brompton down to MIA to bike MIA-EYW over 3 days, but that the big snow storm this weekend has caused so many cancellations there'd be little chance of making it non-rev. She said, in all earnestness: "You know I would fully support an endeavor like that." So there you go. I have a by-your-leave, the method, the means and pretty much the time to do a mini-epic. If not this week, maybe the next or the one after. Winter in the Keys is a lovely thing. 

28 JAN 2022 PAO

 Journals. Diaries. Logbooks. Blogs Vlogs and YouTube channels. My oh my, but there are lots of ways to track a trip. This may not be the latest and greatest - nor latest OR greatest - but it's already in play so, here we go. 

Training today was treadmill at 3.5mph for 1+15, no incline, 12.5# pack and 3# hand weights (6# total for 18.5# total additional weight). Distance was 4.21 miles.

Entertainment was watching all 3 parts of We Walked Wainwright's Coast to Coast Walk in 10 days; a cute Scottish couple walk from St Bees to Robinshood Bay. Each part was 25 minutes, so just about perfect. 

I swapped the insoles on my Merrell Moab 2 Waterproof Mid walking boots from factory to Dr Scholls yesterday and immediately felt cramped. After yesterday's walk of same length and speed my right foot hurt on top and my left thigh just above the knee and to the inside of the leg felt bruised and very sensitive - tingling unpleasantly at the slightest touch. So today I swapped back to factory insoles, noted the increased room in the toe box, and while the thigh is still bruised sore it is not electrified and the while process feels much better. This is the same leg that I think wound up with sciatic injury after the 100 Mile Wilderness walk in Maine last year, so I want to have a care with it. 

Thought that since the Lake District to the west side of Great Britain is the prettiest and hilliest half of the walk, that if one were to just go and do the C-to-C, or with minimal training, one could walk oneself into shape a bit walking East to West (counter flow) with 6 days of 'boring' moor walking. Settling pack, getting into 8 + hour days of walking, like that. 

I wonder if son John, when he finishes his degree next year, would be interested in spending a couple or three weeks in England with his old man. 

Did I just call myself old?

Let's see, where was I?

I'm sure there's a good metaphor about trying to blog your life that mirrors how there are periods of great intensity and then blank spaces and then another period of intensity. Maybe the train of life going from station to station (event to event) and the time between, just listening to the wheels on the tracks and the scenery rushing by. 

Can I really be turning 66 next month? Oy. 

Well, I'm not intending to catch you up (who are 'you', anyway?) but you should know that this last year I was invited to hike across the Grand Canyon and the 100 Mile Wilderness and up/down Mt Katahdin. I did both and survived - no, enjoyed  both. So much so that I'm planning another hike this coming summer. Covid willing. 

Tour du Mont Blanc. 170km around, 10km up/down. From Les Houches France to Italy to Switzerland and back to Les Houches. 

I'm in the planning/reservations phase just now. Here's what I have so far: from  non-rev from Philadelphia to Dublin on/about June25th to a hostel downtown until 29JUN when I fly revenue from DUB thru London Heathrow to Geneva and then bus to Camonix/Les Houches and a hotel until the 1st of July. 

I'm following  the traditional route CCW (Anti-clockwise) from Les Houches - taking 11 days, most of which I'll be camping and some in refuges. 

Finishing on the 11th I'll get back to the same hotel as before for one night, and on 12JUL unwind by bus to GVA, British Airways GVA thru LHR to DUB, to a different hostel for a night or two, and then start trying to get back DUB to PHL non-rev. 

The big block at the beginning in DUB is not only because I love DUB, but as my ticket on BA is the stake in the sand and the flight on AA is at the whim of passenger loads, I want to give myself several tries to get going. If it looks really rough I may even go earlier! 

So I'm training already, doing 1+15 on the treadmill (it IS January in the NE right now) wearing 10# pack and carrying 3# in each hand watching TMB YouTube videos. I'll up my game with mountain specific strength and stretching exercises while I pick up a few more goodies, light weight goodies, for my pack. 

Wish me luck!

Picking up the pieces

After such a long break, it's tough to tell how or even if to fill in the gap. I suppose I must, to some degree, or like a foundation with voids, the story may collapse on itself for lack of support. 

In a nutshell: I separated, moved out, my employer declared bankruptcy, I divorced, changed bases from DFW to MIA, and moved onto a sailboat. 

There. That's about it, except for the private stuff which will remain, ah, private. 

In the cardiologist's office is a chart of life event stresses, and I think I checked off all but one. Then I went to the pharmacy and got my blood pressure medications. 

It's time to get back onto this 'adventure' line again, I think. 

I am now aboard the S/V SHAKABRAH, a 1978 Pacific Seacraft Mariah 31 full time. Well, when I'm not flying or visiting. Downsizing for me went from a 3500sqft home to a 200sqft room in a friends house, to a crash pad  apartment with 5 other pilots, to my own 150sqft living space on the boat. It's not as bad as it may sound - my deck and cockpit are my patio, and my yard is Biscayne Bay just off Miami Beach. When the weather is fine it is glorious, when the weather is lousy I stay below and read. 

Currently I am planning a voyage in the boat from Miami up to the Chesapeake Bay, mostly offshore (weather permitting ), to reposition away from the hurricane belt (although Mother Nature is wearing her slacks higher and higher these days...) and for my 35th USNA reunion in September. Surely that's a typo. 

35 years since college? Using the word 'retirement'? 

There'll be more as I go along, but I wanted to get back on the horse, so to speak, and put something out there. 

New Mexico Trip Part II

12SEP10 Departure day starts early, as usual. With my earplugs and exercise yesterday the early, early riders do not disturb me, and it isn't until about 0730 that I actually could be called 'awake'. It's fun and fascinating to see everyone pack up. So many types of tents, so many styles of saddle bags, so many methods of packing. Somehow it all fits - and what doesn't gets bungee'd on somewhere. It isn't unusual with the great vendor deals available to see extra helmets, boots, bags or whatnot attached to bikes heading as far away as, well, Minnesota! My own routine is pretty set, and I get it all put away about the same time as Dave. He was heading down to Albuquerque to visit a friend, and then up to Durango CO to visit his late wife's ashes. You may think that would be a lonely thing to do on a motorcycle, but I believe he made enough friends over the weekend to ease it up a bit. And besides, a little alone time is a good thing.

For me the day will be to head to Las Vegas NM for breakfast at the Hillcrest Restaurant, then down to Tucumcari for gas and to pick up I-40E THROUGH Amarillo (what IS that SMELL??) and on to Hinton OK to camp at Red Rock Canyon SP. Why not home, you ask? Well, my youngest daughter Emily is now a freshman at Oklahoma City University, and has Monday afternoons free. My wife had the opportunity to help Emily set up camp in the dorm and to visit while I tended our other daughter still at home, Robin, but I haven't yet seen the campus on the other end of my paycheck. On Monday I hope to share lunch and be impressed. The ride is the ride, and while the trip out of the mountains is depressing, the ride through the prairie and down to Tucumcari buoys my spirits. Then I get on I-40E and simply put my head down. Until Hinton. There I get off the interstate and pass thru town for the SP, first stopping at THE grocery for food. Again the selection of meat is labeled by day and use. Todays cut for grilling, Yesterdays cut for stew, and beyond that - dogfood. If you didn't like your dog. Times are hard, and don't you forget it. There was a young couple with 3 bags of groceries at the check out looking as intent as if they were buying a car together. When their check wouldn't clear the computer I thought they were going to weep. Finally a supervisor came and manually over-rode the machine (there's a Ray Bradbury story there, I'm sure of it) so they could get on with their lives.

At the State Park I puttered back to my usual spot, and as, ah, usual, there was a story in the next campsite. Guy and Gal. Coulda Shoulda been a romantic evening, but I could hear him bait her with politically charged statements and then set off on a speech. Not once, but several times.

I was beginning to wonder if a move was in order, then things got quiet.
Great!
Then things got noisy. In a way that would have made even a hotel room inadequate.
Hubboy.

Earplugs are the greatest invention of the modern world - allowing anyone to sleep anywhere.
If they can keep their imagination in check.

New Mexico Trip Part II

11SEP10
Hiking today, Mean it.
This time when I roll the bike to the bottom of the hill I am not alone and there is a collective sigh of relief when the bike fires up strongly. Thanks Dave.
Off through Taos to the ski resort. Note: NM150, which leaves 522 north of Taos and is an in/out to the ski resort, is a beautiful ride, in deep canyon shade with twists and falls and is worthy on it's own.
At 0945, about an hour later than I'd have liked, but such is vacation, I shuck my road gear for trail duds and am headed uphill; a status that will continue for the next 8 miles. Well, there are some appreciable downhill bits - but that only means MORE uphill both coming and going. Sigh. Just like life.
At about 1315 (or 1:15pm) I join a group at the summit and we do our little dances of self congratulation and try to get cell phone signal. Along the way I've seen marmot, chipmunks or ground squirrels, and prong horn. I have also passed several groups and not been passed myself. I feel pretty good about that, for an old 54 year veteran of this planet.
My last foot fall on the trail is 1630 (4:30pm - c'mon, get with it) and I am pleased to have covered 16 miles and +/- 4500 of elevation change. Now it's back to camp for the big Saturday night burrito and hoe-down. Hoe Down? I wonder if that comes from putting ones' 'hoe down', stopping work, and recreating?
Revelry lasts to the wee-hours (so called because that's when I usually wake up to (yup) wee), but I do not, and sleeping in 38 degrees is just right!

New Mexico Trip Part II

10Sep10
Where are you riding today? not How are you? or How did you sleep? is the first question you'll be asked at a BMW rally. I amaze my circle by announcing my intent NOT to ride, but rather to hike - up Wheeler Peak (again), highest point in NM at 13,200 or so. Quizzical looks and flying eyebrows tell me I'm not making much sense, but that's ok. I'm here to do what I want to do - and I've already plowed most of these roads last month and in previous years.
As a courtesy I roll my bike from between the tents and down to the flat near the road and attempt to start it. That's right - attempt. At first I put it down to the cold, but on the second push of the starter the lights go out and the starter sounds like a cricket. A sick cricket.
Then nada.
Crap.
I've been nursing and rationalizing an electrical problem since two summers ago when daughter Emily and I rode up to Banff Canada and back. The generator light which is supposed to illuminate before start and extinguish at idle (+) RPM hasn't been coming on regularly. For all this time, however, the bike has continued to start and run fine.
Until today.
I have cables and begin asking for help. All I want is a running bike from which to draw enough power to start my bike, and then I still believed (mistakenly) that it will recharge itself. What I get are offers of other avenues - kind and well intended, but not what I want/need. FINALLY another rider is about to leave and in 2 minutes we siphon electrons to start my bike and I am off!
For about 15 of the 20 miles into Taos.
My GPS says 'external power lost', the bike surges, and then dies, and I coast to the side of the road.
Well, at least I'm sure of one thing - the charging system isn't working if that light doesn't come on like it's supposed to! Ah well, I'm at ease. I have tools, I have resources at the rally, and it isn't raining. In fact, the day is BEAUTIFUL, just like all the days at the rally will be this year. So I remove the battery, stash my 'valuables', and stick my out my thumb. 5 min later a pick-up stops and 15 minutes later I am back at the rally.
Dave is still there, and offers any assistance he can, and after locating a spare battery (care of the Land of Enchantment BMW Riders Club) that will fit I am on the back of his bike heading towards Taos.
We replace the battery and the bike starts, but Dave, as a professional, is dissatisfied with leaving it at that and cajoles me into troubleshooting the charging system (aka Doing It Right) and we take apart the instrument cluster and de-corrode the connections. Voila! Bright light before start, Dark light while running, and 13+v going back into the battery.
As a thank-you I take him to lunch in Taos, and then we ride the southern end of the Enchanted Circle to Angle Fire, and down 434 to Mora, where I tarry to take photographs in the evening sun.
Back at camp we are treated to firey chili and bluegrass music by the babbling trout stream, and I am grateful for the resourcefulness and comradre of the BMW clan.

New Mexico Trip Part II

9Sep10
This write up is a little after the fact. It's still in the same month, though - I'm not leaving you hanging on the edge of the Andes again!
While it is extremely convenient that American Eagle flys into Santa Fe (SAF) airport these days, they do so in small commuter jets that tend to fill up quickly and unexpectedly. Instead of departing DFW on Friday the 10th, 'space available' was rapidly becoming 'space un-available' and I needed to didi on Thursday afternoon. A quick call (oh dear, even that action word has been up-dated! a quick TEXT) to my friends and Jeff B broke off his busy day to take me to the big airport.
A little concern over my hiking poles with their sharp carbide tips was quickly put at ease (didn't even raise an eyebrow), but my 4oz of deodorant stick had to go (sorry, 16A and 16C, whoever you were!)
EZ flight and land at SAF with it's adobe styled terminal, and the 20 minute walk over to Airport Storage. I stopped along the way to buy a tire gage, and witnessed the all too human ego display that must give God the willeys every time it happens.
"Miss, you need to turn on pump 4" "But you told me pump 6" "No, I didn't, just turn on pump 4" "Ok, but you told me pump 6" "No, I didn't" "Yes, you did. Pump 4 is on now".
This pass all I was carrying was hiking poles, toiletries (less than expected) and one extra set of clothes. After all, everything else was still on the bike waiting for me! Tuck in here, repack there and I'm off with a wave to Ian, who was making the rounds with his two pit-bull dogs.
Route for today is simple - up NM599 north to 285, switch to 68 at Espanola, and then cut off on 75 thru Penasco to 518 and the Sipapu Ski Resort. While I wasn't the first to set up camp (by any means) I was still able to use the very same site I've used for over 6 years now, at the far end of the 'noisey' campground away from the lodge, at the foot of the ski slopes next to the trees and the wooden out house.
Pulling in I am greeted by a couple who peer into my visor, note my campsite and cry RANDY!!!
I am at a loss as to who they are.
Folks begin to look familiar while their name and origin of contact elude me. Nancy and Curtis are from north of Denver and we met 2 years ago.
My next door (next flap? we are camping) neighbor is a new guy, though. Really new - like a rally virgin. Dave Long is riding a lovely R1200RT down from Minneapolis-St Paul on an extended tour. Turns out he was a Navy enlisted man, and while still in his prime (just like me only a couple years more), has moved through several careers since then. Including electrician, which will come to play a part in our story.

A Child of the Magenta Line

Technology is continually changing, that's for sure. In modern times the rate of change has been changing too - it's been accelerating. In college I was issued both a slide rule and a calculator (guess which one I used more?). During my times in the Navy I had to learn semaphore and Morse code, but that was immediately obsolete with VHF, and HF radio communications. As a pilot I read about flying the null and actually did fly VOR's, but the first was gone even before I pushed a throttle forward and the second is withering as I type, replaced by GPS. Even typing has gone through the flux-gate. I have a MANUAL typewriter with ribbon and tack-a tack-a keys and a bell at the end of the line, which was replaced by a thermal dot matrix printer, then a computer keyboard and now a touch screen txt-ing smart phone.
Where does it end?
Is it worth it?
The speedometer on my motorcycle starts with a gear attached to the drive shaft, which spins a cable in a housing, which spins a disc with a magnet, which affects another disc and magnet which moves a needle over the instrument face with numbers. The only 'magic' is the magnetic connection (so you don't break the needle when you move backwards). For distance that same cable drives a gear which rotates numbers on a column. It will count backwards.
If you know a motorcycle rider, you know that two of the most important topics of conversation are Speed and Distance. The problem is that that mechanical connection between the rear wheel and the speedometer has 'slop', sometimes a little, sometimes a lot, and there's reader error as well. So two riders can travel together exactly the same rate and one will claim to have been going 80mph and the other may claim 85mph and both will be telling the truth, as best they can.
Put a GPS on the bike and see what happens.
Now the bragging rights of traveling 85mph all day long becomes 77mph, and a little of the wind has been taken out of our hero's sails. Along with that are the little cookies which the GPS leaves behind as a TrackBAck feature (so Hanzel and Grettle can find their way home). Goose the throttle up a little bit and do 85 on the GPS and get pulled over by State Trooper Rock Hammer and try to explain that you were only doing 77 in a 75 and watch him highlight a cookie reading 85 on the GPS.
Tag, you're it!
Even more, put an emergency locator, like SPOT, on your bike to keep folks at home appraised of your location and voila! Not only is your speed available, but when you decide to visit a location not approved by she-who-must-be-feared, it is impossible to sweep over the GPS track with a bushy branch and claim innocence.
Don't ask me how I know.
Whatever you may have paid for your device, it's screen will never be the size of a folding road map, and so another small problem, no pun intended, is that to see where you are you have to cut away where you could go. I mean, the scale is so large that you see but a postage stamp map and can easily pass by the World's Largest Ball of String or Biggest Frying Pan and never see it though it was only 3 miles to your side!
Then there's the idea of sharing your travels with friends.
Oh, the Internet is a wonderful place full of information and communication. There's email and facebook and blogspot. There's also cell phone coverage for person to person calls, texting, and tweeting. But the thing is, how do you cover them all? And more importantly, do you really want to?
My daughter likes to send me a message via my facebook wall. So I get a note posted there, but then I get an email telling me to look at my facebook wall. So why couldn't she just send me the email herself? Or, since she's doing this on her smart phone, why doesn't she just call and speak to me directly?
These things puzzle me as I ride along at 77mph.
The Magenta Line?
In recent pilot training one of the grey heads who was tasked to instruct us in the newest forms of navigation (now there's another subject for discussion: why are those tasked to teach the NEW-est usually the OLD-est?) coined the phrase. Early aviators flew above roads or tracks or along rivers. To identify a town they would circle a water tower proudly announcing MEMPHIS, HOME OF THE FIGHTING ELVISES, or even (gasp) turn off the engine to shout to stupefied ground walkers for directions. Radio came along and we flew invisible beams between stations with little relation to ground features. We no longer open maps to plan a route, select navigation radio stations, tune them in, identify them by Morse code, and fly a compass bearing or radial. The navigation system does all that for us, and checks with GPS as well, reducing our aviation maps of aerial highways down to a single magenta line which the autopilot tracks with plus or minus a tenth of a mile accuracy. Maps? We've got 'em, but they are as pristine as when they came out of the mailer.
Hey, Captain, what's that lake on the left?
Uh..........?
I am a child of the Magenta Line.