Crooked Buttons

I button my shirt from the bottom
I always do bottom to top
my mommy says it should be perfect
much different, she says, than ol' Pop.

Now Pop, he does it all backwards
he always goes top straight on down.
Then walks around dressed up in flannel
buttoned crooked all day around town.

Then home he comes for his supper
and what does mom do, one wonders.
She cooks up a nice soup with barley
quite careful to ignore all his blunders.

But me, does she give such leeway?
Oh NO! Here lies the trap.
If I get just one button crooked
there's sure to come a head slap.

A Woman's Prerogative

They say it is a woman's prerogative to change her mind. Well, this morning was a very good example of this in Mimi's and my marriage, now almost 31 years old and still very much a work in progress. As always, before we went to bed last night, I asked, "So.....are you riding your bike tomorrow?" Earlier in the evening, she'd let the cats in and told me it was raining. Before heading into the bedroom, I'd gone out on the front porch to check the sky and pavement. OK, there's some clouds up there, but the pavement is dry. If it was raining earlier, it sure wasn't much. As I tried to cajole her into riding, I told her it sure didn't look like rain to me. No luck. She was not going to ride.

Well, we got up and as I always do, I pushed back the bedroom curtain to see if the pavement is still dry. YEP! And the skies are pretty clear. I asked her again if she was going to ride. Nope. Not gonna happen today. Gotta go to the store. Gotta do this, gotta do that. yada yada yada.

So I go do my bathroom routine, put my coffee on and get dressed. Make a lunch, pack up the panniers, find all my goodies and get ready to roll. She's eating breakfast. As I get ready to head out the door, she says, "Wow. I'm almost done." I don't think any more about it, head downstairs and out to the garage, strap the bags on the bike, turn on the lights and head out. Just as I'm rolling away I hear the back door open. "WAIT FOR ME! Geez, I can't believe you're already gone." She'd changed her mind. I turned around, went back in and waited for her to finish getting her backpack ready, her sash on, her helmet and gloves and a pannier so she can go to the store after work before riding home. This girl's turning into a really awesome commuting partner!

So, after all that, I still got to ride with my sweetie this morning, had the pleasure of a gentle kiss goodbye at Myrtle and Flora instead of the rushed peck on the forehead as I'm heading out the door by myself and so ended up smiling all the way into the office with one thought in mind. "Yep, it's definitely a woman's prerogative."

THIS IS WINTER?

It was a good day in the northwest, and a fine way to usher out the first month of the year with a little 70 mile ride from Snohomish through Marysville and over a lot of backroads toward Arlington, before getting onto the Centennial Trail back to the start. 7 of us, Greg and Ruth Sneed on their new tandem "Guacamole", my new friend Pat Leahy on his white Cannondale stallion, Ed on his mighty Griffen, Barb Scheffler on her beautiful Land Shark, Susan Cady on some old hunka metal she has hanging around and me, of course astraddle the mighty Katrina.


The other 35 or 40 riders had already departed and we were all about a half hour late out of the parking lot, but at least by the time we were rolling, the temperature had warmed up a little bit and by the time we rode through Marysville, the sun had come out for a little. We made a quick potty stop at a park just before leaving town and then headed north. As we were riding along, two of us didn't have mudflaps. Both Barb and Ed were really generous, though, and offered to sit on the back so they wouldn't spray us all. Poor Pat, though, had a great rear fender with mudflap which I truly appreciated, but he had no front fender. The result, of course was that as we were traveling along where there had been a lot of frost an hour or so ago, there was now a very muddy goo that we were riding through, that kicked up a pretty good spray from his front wheel that was blowing back at him. Nobody, of course, could see this until we came to a stop light at 34th, and I rode up beside him. Here's what I saw:




Some others tried to blame Barb who had been in front of the line, but Pat and I both knew where this was coming from. He ended up riding like this for the next 30 miles until we hit the lunch stop in Arlington, where I managed to squeeze myself into a booth with three lovely ladies while poor Greg found himself alone in a separate booth, without coffee, water or even anybody to keep him company. And to make matters worse, the waitress wouldn't even take his order. He, of course was NOT pleased.


Eventually, we all got our egg salad sandwiches, peanut butter sandwiches, burgers and chiliburgers (my first of the season!!) and took off for the last 22 miles back to Snohomish. Me made a brief stop at Machias for a little pottie stop and to visit with the locals. And only one big mean dog incident along the way! Not bad.



From there, it was all downhill, but with just 4 miles to go, Barb discovered a slow leak from her front tire, so we had a little pause to change that, whereupon a family with a couple of young hot shots on tiny bikes decided to give us a bit of a chase. I think they were after my bell, but I'm not sure.

So here we were, in the middle of winter, temperature of 43 degrees, in the late afternoon with the sun low on the horizon, and the trail simply loaded with all manner of folks out, with skates, scooters, dogs, lovers, and it started to feel like spring is right around the corner. We must be due for a weather change.

Three Musketeers And A Dynamic Duo On The Hood Canal

I was going to write about Fog White and The Seven Mental Dwarfs, but Bob Lagasca and Mike Richeson found legitimate excuses not to go ride with us yesterday. An email from Mike said something about the weather outside was like mid-January and a voice mail from Bob referenced “issues with his bike”.

So our gang of seven ended up being a fearsome fivesome, boarding the 6:10 ferry out of Seattle, bound for Bainbridge. Geoff Swarts and Vincent Muoteke had done the newly approved route 536 (Hood Canal Loop 2.0) on Wednesday, and were off to do the original Hood Canal Loop.



After disembarking the ferry in 34 degree weather, we started out in the dark at 6:40. By the time we got to Port Gamble, it was starting to lighten up, and we made a quick potty stop at the espresso stand, where Vincent tanked up on caffeine and Dave Harper downed a few peanut butter pretzels.



Geoff and I paused to take a few photos:



and then we pushed on. We rode together as a group across the Hood Canal Bridge and to Beaver Valley Road, where the Three Musketeers headed north, while the Dynamic Duo continued on out 104 toward their cutoff to Quilcene. The ride north toward Chimacum is mostly a flat road along the east side of the valley, and with the light fog, it was quite pretty.



We stopped at the Café/Bakery in Chimacum and Bill Gobie added a few layers, some toe warmers and we all had a snack, some of which apparently clung to my 3-day old growth of beard.





Riding through Quilcene, we continued heading South, and it looked like we might see some sun later in the day, though Dave was somewhat skeptical when I asked him if he’d remembered to bring his sunglasses. There was a touch of ice on the bridge and the temperature climbing Walker Pass was an even 32 F.





As I got almost to the top of the climb, I was approaching a turn and the sun came out in full force, shining brightly through the trees and rapidly melting the frost off.



The three of us had gotten separated by this time, with Dave out front somewhere and Bill behind me on the climb, having stopped briefly at Quilcene. As I dropped off the pass, once again, the fog layer turned everything gray once more along the Hood Canal.



But I could see some slivers of light which gave me great hope that this week-long low inversion layer might burn off.



When I came past the Hamma Hamma Fire Station, I noticed that after our December record breaking snows, our January record floods and a week of fog, the fire danger is decidedly lower than it was when I was here last July.



By noon, I was riding along with a nice tailwind, watching the winter sun sparkle off a most beautiful Hood Canal. The newly repaved Hwy 101 is simply fantastic to ride on, with wider shoulders along most of it, not much road debris and not nearly as much traffic today as I am used to.



I’m always tempted to stop at this place, drawn by the giant plastic hamburger. This is about 75 miles into the ride, with 12 or so miles left before our stop in Hoodsport, and the tank is usually just about on empty by the time I get here, but with a big gravel lot, set way back off the highway and looking like more of a bar than burger joint, I can just never quite bring myself to visit. One of these days……



By 1:00, just north of Lilliwaup, if I looked back north, the water was bright blue, but if I looked ahead to the south, it was gray-green, a very interesting effect of the fog having been burned off partly, but still a lot of cloud cover to the south.



Usually, riding with a group of randonneurs, we never stop here, since the control is only another 5 miles, but I just love to stop at the Lilliwaup General Store. The folks are so friendly and they have one of the funkiest toilet rooms in the northwest. That, AND I get to take a picture of my mighty hurricane of a bicycle, the lovely Katrina, visiting the woodshed.





Just after turning off of Hiway 101 onto SR 106 south of Potlatch, I always like riding past this grand old wood barn. When I was a kid, these were all over the Pacific Northwest. Age, neglect, storms and other effects of nature have collapsed a lot of them, and it seems they are never replaced with anything of beauty, but simple metal “structures”. It is sad to me that we are losing a great deal of beauty on our landscapes, as these glorious old structures to simple metal buildings that have no sense of character.



At the mouth of the Skokomish, the Olympics were reflected nicely in the calm river. Just past this, I joined up again with Dave Harper who had been doing the same thing as me, riding along watching the beautiful scenery when he’d hit a rock and caused a pinch flat.



We rode along together for the 20 miles of SR 106, me enjoying the chip seal, him lamenting the fact that it must be his day for mechanicals, as he’d just broken a rear derailleur cable, and was relegated to doing the last 30 miles essentially with a 3-spd. I rode up beside him at one point to grab a photo and he almost rode himself into a ditch when he looked over to pose. I will need advance warning of such antics next time so I can switch to movie mode.



After a quick stop for water (Dave) and potty (Don), we set off again out of Belfair, knowing Bill was ahead of us, with the sun now at our backs, and the anticipated headwinds nowhere to be found. It was a beautiful winter afternoon, with temperature hovering in the mid-40’s.



Dave got a ways ahead of me climbing up and over the hill on Old Belfair Hiway, but I caught up to him again before we hit Hwy 3 and we rode together again under the bright blue skies.



Eventually, I let him take off so I could kick back and enjoy the late afternoon sun on the water just outside of Bremerton. I knew we were too late for the 4:15 ferry, and had a good hour to get 3 miles. I wanted to just relax for the end of the ride.



So I watched the boats, I watched the birds, even getting to watch a seagull pull a fish out of the water and fly off with it.





Of course, there’s that last hill to contend with.







And after sweeping down the hill, around the corner onto 4th and into the Starbucks, there was Dave, who had arrived just a few seconds before me, and as I was taking off my helmet, up rode Bill, who had also stopped in Belfair and gotten behind us again. So we all finished within a minute of each other in just under 10 hours.

After sitting and having a mocha, I walked around the corner where I found the Dynamic Duo just finishing off their german sausages and beer; they’d finished about 10 minutes before us.

At about 5:25, we all headed off together, rode onto the ferry and after watching the last of an unusually beautiful January sunset,



the boat pulled away from the dock, with a group of endorphine crazed randonneurs exchanging tales of another great day riding 130 miles together, yet apart. Bill and I feasted on ice cream bars and Dave wolfed down a few more of those peanut butter pretzels, offering some to anybody who desired. I passed. Everyone seemed to be pretty happy.







I don’t know what it is, whether it is the time spent on the ferry before and after the ride with other folks who share this passion, the scenery along a most spectacular route or the solitude of riding along with nothing but the sounds of breeze in my ears, water lapping at the shores and gulls and eagles singing their songs of the wild, but I always seem to have some of my best cycling days riding around Hood Canal.

Since You Asked.....

In the words of the immortal (at least in MY mind) Frank Hammond, noted sign painter and philosopher who frequented my family's restaurant (and more than his share of local houses of inebriation),

"I am a minority of one, and when that ceases to be true, I'll change my opinion."

An interesting discussion came up the other day on www.bikejournal.com having to do with global warming. Now, one of the things I really like about BikeJournal is that while we all come from different backgrounds and forefathers, we all share one deep love, that being the bicycle and all that it means. Even there, we often disagree about it (i.e., road v. trail, etc.) but one thing is sure. We are a passionate lot. If we weren't we couldn't maintain the degree of interest it takes to do what we do with our cycling.

I, for one, share a deep concern with many of my fellows with regard to the amount of crap we are putting into the air as a result of our ever increasing industrial needs and our seeminly ever increasing reliance on infernal confabulation engines to do everything. Now, I ain't no scientist, and I ain't no geophysicyst, and I ain't no goldurned dockter, but I got me a bona-fido high school diploma and with fifty-eight long and well lived trips riding this planet as it revolves around the Sun, I've come to realize a few things, and one of them is the fact that there is no free lunch. There is a price to pay for everything, and somewhere back there when folks with big brains were thinking up how they could make machines to do all the work faster than people could do it, they came up with a really great thing. It was called convenience.

In order to make things more convenient, we needed to make processes faster. In order to make processes faster, we needed to find machines that could do things in mass production. As we did that, we found we were able to generate more and more convenience, and there were some really good things that came about as a result, one of them being a "five-day workweek". Totally a by-product of the factory-mentality society. And one that as a recreational cyclist, I love to take advantage of. But along with all that, came a reliance on something we, as a nation, cannot produce very much of and need a whole lot of. In reaching out across the world to obtain that crude oil that we so desparately need, we get into a whole other realm of geo-politics.

Now I ain't no perfesser and I ain't no politishun and I sure as heck ain't no high falutin' lawyer type, but I got me a certifiable high school diploma from the grand and glorious institute of learning, Waldport High School, where I managed to graduate in 1969 with distinct honors, distinctly being placed 49th out of 52 in my class with a GPA of 1.64. Those below me failed to graduate.

But in the last fifty-eight laps around the sun, I've come to understand something about politics. If you got it and I want it, and I'm bigger than you, I can probably take it away and there probably ain't a whole heck of a lot you can do about it. So there! And it seems to me that there is just a whole lot of that going on in our world today. And I ain't paintin' no special group into a corner, here. There's just too many of 'em and they all know in the bottoms of their souls (if such exist) who they are and what they're doing.

And so, when I was looking at some life change a couple years ago, one of the life changes I decided to make was to use my car less, use my bike more and try to figure out ways and means to reduce my dependence on fossil fuels. I thought it was a nice way to truly support the young men and women who I have asked to go overseas and stand up to some punks and bullies that want to do me harm and also thought it might be a nice way to be a little nicer to the polar bears. Are the polar bears grateful? I have no idea. Do the bad guys give a rat's patootie that some ol' man in a far away place ride more miles on a bike than he drives in his car? I doubt it. But do I feel better about myself for doing so? Absolutely. End of story.

Why Am I So ANGRY Tonight?

It's been a long and troublesome cold spell in Seattle. For two weeks I didn't ride my bike. I didn't ride, not because a local cyclist was killed, but because the local area was inundated with over a foot of snow that has clogged streets, shut down everything from newspaper and mail delivery to pick up of garbage from the curb. It is all melting away now, however and leaving in its wake the usual mess of sand, blowing garbage and abandoned cars.

Just before the cold snap started, though, I did a 50 mile ride on Saturday, December 13th. As I rode out of the house the temperatures were just above freezing, and it didn't warm up a whole lot, but throughout the day, I kept thinking about what had taken place just two days before. At a little after 6:00 am on Thursday December 11th, a 56-year old man bid his family farewell and left for work. He did this pretty much the same way he'd been doing it every day for a long time. He was gainfully employed as a mechanic. He loved his family and was a contributing member of his community. Unlike most morning commuters, though, this man was one of a much smaller community of working Americans who chose to ride a bicycle to work and home. Just an ordinary guy, with an ordinary family, living an ordinary life in an ordinary community. Just like me.

At a little after 6:00 am that same morning, I did exactly what this 56 year old man did. I strapped on my helmet, turned on all of my headlights and taillights, straddled my bicycle and headed off to work.

There is one big difference. That night, I got to walk back through the door to my ordinary home, kiss my ordinary family hello, sit down to an ordinary dinner and go on with my ordinary life. This stranger was far less fortunate. As he rode down Renton Avenue South out of Skyway, he was struck by an oncoming driver in a Large American Car and died at the scene before he could tell his wife just one more time how much he loved her.

I found out about Paul Radliff as I was walking to lunch, when I got a call from a friend; a friend who knows I commute by bike every day and was worried about my safety.

And on that Saturday, I rode around on my bike like a deer caught in the headlights, thinking about this man and his family and what had been taken away from him. I was filled with a sadness that doesn't often hit me when I read or hear about a traffic fatality. I wasn't particularly angry at that point, just shocked and sad. Not shocked as in surprised. But shocked because this man was so much like me. I do the same thing every day that he does, and I was still alive and able to enjoy the coming of winter. Sad because he had so much of a life ahead of him that was unfulfilled.

I rode around that day, more conscious of every car that passed me. I was shaken by this incident for a number of reasons, not the least of which was the reaction of our local law enforcement officers and their attitude toward cyclists. Specifically in this instance, is the fact that the 79 year old driver who was never identified in the media "because he hadn't been charged", was neither cited at the scend for failure to yield the right of way nor charged with any major offense (i.e., vechicular homicide, inattentive driving, negligent driving), and the only thing that the police would say was that the investigation was continuing.

I refuse to call this a tragic accident, which is what I have seen it described as. I call it what it is. Vehicular Homicide. I have perused our local newspapers since then. Of course, since we had a major weather event, everything else has taken a back seat to dealing with plowing roads and making it possible to move more and more cars around the city again, and all of the police departments' energies have been re-allocated, so something like investigating a manslaughter becomes a thing of non-importance. This seems to be a trend in my community and it saddens me. I did manage to come across this photograph of Paul Ratliff in the Seattle Times, along with a nice article about him.


photo from Seattle Times - Marie Bolstad

I have sat and studied this photograph a lot over the past few weeks, contemplating what Paul's Christmas would have been like. Would he have been sitting at home like me, staring out the window as more and more snow piled up on his street, wondering when he was going to be able to ride his bike again? Would he have been pacing back and forth through the house like a caged animal, just chomping at the bit to get back out there on his bike? Would he have been cruising the internet scheming on ways to make it so he could ride his bike in bad weather?

Something that has been a bit odd for me is that as I rode to work the day after finding out about this uninvestigated and unpunished homicide, I kept wondering if there was something Paul could have done to make himself more visible. What part did he play in his own death? I found myself falling into the same trap that many motorists seem to put us in. WHY do we instantly blame the victim?

And then I started to feel anger. Anger at the police for failing to make certain that the driver who was responsible was cited and appropriately charged. Anger at the driver who failed to recognize and appropriately respond to an obstacle in front of him and in the process kill another innocent man. Anger at the insensitive assholes who posted in the newspaper every bit of vitriolic hatred toward people on bicycles they could muster from the privacy of their computer keyboard. Finally, anger at myself for falling victim to the same prejudice that I want others to rise above.

Today, I'm on a week of vacation. Shortly after lunch, I strapped on my helmet, cinched up my cycling shoes, put on my reflective rain jacket, kissed my loving wife goodbye and headed south from my ordinary little home on a ride to my mother-in-law's house. Normally, I would ride along Lake Washington to Renton, but today, I was once again thinking of Paul Radliff, and how his life was cut short at the hands of a careless and inattentive man. As I rode down Cloverdale, the light turned green and I went through the intersection and turned right onto Renton Avenue South. There are three steep hills to get to the top of the hill in Skyway, and no hills if I ride around the base. Today, instead of turning onto Henderson and going along the lake, I rode up the hill. I rode up and up and up, thinking of Paul with each rotation of my pedals. It was all I could do not to cry. It was all I could do not to scream at every car that went by me. I know it isn't their fault. I know I shouldn't be angry at everyone in a car, and I'm really not. But today, I rode for Paul. I rode in his honor and in his memory.

As I crested the hill and started down the other side, I felt my speed begin to increase. There were cars coming up the hill and cars behind me. 10....15....20. The winds were strong this afternoon and blowing straight into my face. By the time I got to the intersection where Mr. Radliff was killed, I was up to 25 mph, and I saw the "ghost bike" that some concerned citizen has placed at the corner. I had to concentrate all of my energies on the road in front of me, as I carefully scanned each and every car that approached me as I descended toward Renton. When I got to the bottom of the hill, I was relieved.

Automobiles are responsible for thousands of deaths every year. Drunk drivers, careless and inattentive drivers, inexperienced drivers, drivers who due to their age or other limitations should not be driving any longer, and angry/hostile drivers make up the mix of what ordinary guys like Paul Radliff and I have to deal with every day. Fortunately, I get to live another day.

I want justice for Paul. I want the police to arrest the driver. I want them to perp walk him through to the booking area, fingerprint him and place him in a cell along with the other individuals who are arrested on suspicion of a crime. That won't happen because all he did was kill a guy on a bike.

And that is why I'm angry tonight.

Who Says We're NUTS????

December 28, 2008
Dateline Seattle, WA.
Weather Forecast: 40F, SW Winds to 15; 70% chance of precipitation
Current Condition: Most snow melted; bike paths still impacted with 4" slush

I'd wanted to do a 200 the day after Christmas, but with recent severe weather in the form of the most significant snow storm and longest cold snap since 1950, the Seattle area has been overwhelmed in a lot of ways, and there was still too much snow to do what I would consider a safe ride. The last time I'd been off the bike for 14 consecutive days was in August, 2008 when I had hand surgery, so my legs were definitely not in top form. I managed a short 20 mile ride on Saturday ….



…. just to get a bit of a warm up and experiment riding in some slush just so I'd be a little better prepared for being on the tandem and possibly having to react when I've got somebody else who is depending on my handling skills to avoid a career ending crash. Also spent a couple hours Saturday getting the tandem clean, lubed and ready to roll for 130 miles of hard winter riding conditions.

Sunday morning I awoke to rain. Not heavy, but definite rain. By the time I got to Mercer Island for the start, it had quit and I arrived at the same time as Pam was driving in. She told me it was raining hard to the east, and we are riding right into it. While we were getting her saddle and pedals on Sherman, Geoff rode up and a few minutes later, Chris arrived. Both Chris and Pam are going for their 1st R-12; this is month 4 for Chris and 3 for Pam. Both are new to randonneuring and very determined. Pam is a really strong stoker, with in incredible strength on the climbs and absolutely fearless on descents (much more so than me), and not intimidated by the threat of falling (only because I've never dumped her yet). She's a seasoned mountain biker and former gymnast, so when I finally do crash us, it will be most interesting to see what kind of acrobatics she's going to engage in to save her own life while I go tumbling off the side of a mountain. Chris rode RAMROD with me this summer and took on the R-12 as his next challenge, buying a new titanium custom built Davidson for his pursuit. Geoff, of course, is a long-term randonneur and veteran with whom I always enjoy riding.

At 7:50 we took off out of the QFC lot, heading east. We managed to get as far as the East Channel bridge over Lake Washington before we had to portage our bikes over the first snow field. Heavily saturated slush about 4” deep was not rideable.





We knew the trail between the slough and Eastgate would be impassable, so did a 3 or 4 mile detour that took us through the Lake Hills Connector, adding a couple of good little climbs to our early morning ride. As we turned east at Factoria, a fine mist started to hit us that got gradually heavier until we got to Issaquah, at which time it was a full fledged rain shower. Because of all the snow melt, the roads were also littered with a lot of sand and gravel which mucked all of our bikes up pretty good. Geoff was the only one without a mudflap, so he mostly led from behind until we got into Redmond, where Chris removed his front mudflap and Geoff mounted it on his bike, which helped immensely. I had added a new front mudflap to Sherman, and looking at the degree of grime on Geoff’s bike in comparison to what was on the tandem, we got a really good demonstration of just how much a front mudflap helps to keep crap out of the drive train. I’ve heard people talk about this before, but this was the first time I saw a really good demonstration of it. That front mudflap also kept a lot of the crud off of my feet, though they ended up cold and wet anyway.

Heading through Marymoor Park, we got our first taste of having to ride through slush, and I was really glad for having taken the time I did on Saturday, as I had to plow through it on the tandem. Even with the wider tires and additional weight, it’s not easy or fun, especially knowing that if I go down, I’m taking somebody with me. Pam was a good sport. When I got us through it, I said to her, “well, I guess that got your adrenaline pumped up a bit, huh?” And she said that it would take a lot more than that to worry her.

We headed south out of Marymoor along West Lake Sammamish and had to go back up the steep grade we’d gone down before, some sections that were 12 – 14%. A tough go on the tandem, but we managed to keep up with both Chris and Geoff at a whopping 4 mph!!! After getting through Eastgate area again, we had to use our next detour to avoid the snow covered bike paths between S. Bellevue and Renton along the east side of Lake Washington, a normally very easy section of mixed roadway and bike path. The work-around was not nearly as easy, and Geoff added in a wonderful little “bonus climb” for us at 18%. I think this is the steepest I’ve ever done on the tandem, and still my stoker never complained about how hard it was, only about how many extra miles we’re adding in to an already too-long ride to be doing in the middle of winter (actually, it isn’t the middle of winter yet, but I didn’t want to appear to be nit picking the issue).

Once we got to Renton, it was really smooth sailing the rest of the afternoon. The sun came out for a little bit, the pavement dried up along a good part of the route and except for a light headwind (4-8 mph), it was totally enjoyable as we headed out West Valley Highway, stopping for a snack in Kent.



The final push into Orting was a bit rough as the winds seemed to pick up a bit, but with broken clouds and on a newly paved bike path paralleling the highway, it was really enjoyable. Mt. Rainier even decided to show itself for a brief spell.

After a half hour stop in Orting as Geoff and I watched Pam and Chris eat sandwiches and I downed a handful of ibuprofen, we took off north, but the rain had started again. At least we had a tailwind pushing us along. Geoff has added a nice little easterly section that took us slightly into the foothills along a road with no traffic and then after riding through Sumner again, we took off on one of my old training routes back into Algona/Pacific where we picked up the Interubran Trail into Tukwila, where it intersects the River Trail. We probably should have not even gotten off onto the River Trail, as we encountered a lot of slushy areas. Just after hitting this trail, we encountered a huge snowman that took up most of the trail. Fortunately, there was enough melt off that we could ride around it. But a half mile later, as we were going through Fort Dent Park, the entire trail was covered. Geoff and I had a little bet going, as I really didn’t think we were going to have to use any more detours. He mentioned when we got here that it looked like he’d won. Not being the least bit competitive, I thought we could ride through it, so Pam and I took the lead. I was right. We managed to get through it. I slipped and slid my way along, Pam having the foresight to not say anything and letting me concentrate on keeping the bike upright. We got through the mess, and I asked her again if I’d managed to increase her heartrate, but she still wasn’t bothered by it all.

We continued on past Boeing Credit Union and the Tukwila Community Center before we started to hit some really odd long and narrow slushy patches. I’d relaxed a little and all of a sudden found myself in the middle of one of these patches of icy, mucky slush that I had to steer us through. The back end of the tandem was sliding all over the place and I thought we were going down for sure. If I had been on my single, I know I would have crashed, but the fat tires and weight saved the day and we got through it. As I let out a huge sigh of relief, my hands trembling and knees knocking, Pam said, “well, THAT one sorta got my heart going.” FINALLY!!!!! Now I know what it takes.

At the next possible opportunity, I took our little entourage off the bike path and onto East Marginal Way. No need to crash to prove a point. Geoff wins.

The designated route includes following along the River Trail into South Park and onto the Duwamish, my daily commute route. But having already added several miles, Geoff eliminated this section and we went into downtown on Airport Way, so we just had a 6 mile long puddle instead. Rain was coming down hard now and had been for a half hour. We were now fully certified members of the drowned rat club and the temperatures were dropping.

I had expected the I-90 Trail would be fully melted, and it was for the most part, but there were several sections just before the tunnel that still had big sections of slush, with 6” wide tracks to ride through. Pam told me that these were there to improve my handling skills and prove I could ride in a straight line. I tried. I was mostly successful. I didn’t crash us. It was somewhere around here that Chris and Pam realized we weren’t 2 miles from being done, but had to do a loop around the south end of Mercer Island, another 12 miles and 1,000’ of climbing before we’re done. Neither was really happy about this.

As we got onto Mercer Island and headed south, it seemed like the temperature warmed a few degrees. Chris was slowing down and this is a road that just wants to be ridden fast. For some reason, I can really fly on this stretch, especially on the tandem, but on this night, I would be in cruise control. Once I accepted this, it was really nice to just relax. No heavy traffic, the rain had quit, and there was a broken cloud cover, with a few stars visible. We rolled into the finish line after 132 miles, all of us successfully completing the course, no flat tires, no crashes and all of us one month closer to our R-12.

A great day in the saddle, all in all.

Morning In America Again

It is once again morning in America. I awoke this morning with the realization that on the 4th day of November, 2008 we as a nation finally drove the final stake through the heart of the slavery upon which this country was built by electing Barack Hussein Obama as our 44th President.

As I pedaled between home and my office, I was filled with an overwhelming pride. I found myself considering what this election means; not just for the African Americans in the United States, not just for other minorities in our great country, but for children of all races, all creeds, both male and female around the world.

For the past 28 years, certain of our countrymen have attempted to make the word ‘liberal’ a bad thing. These individuals have attempted to brand those who would seek to change our nation as socialists, communists, soft on terrorism, soft on crime, and have filled our airwaves with messages of hate and racism, mostly very subtle, but much not so subtle either. President-Elect Obama has helped us to overcome much of this. He has continued to acknowledge history and show vision for a bright future.

As a child of the 50’s and 60’s, I grew up with a father who was not outraged by the racism of his time, but was outraged by the race riots that were taking place. While not outwardly racist himself, he stood by the very men who would seek to further the racist policies in our great nation. He rejected the very men and women who were seeking to bring about changes in the civil rights movement and sought safe harbor in the politics of the status quo.

Like almost every other American, I remember where I was the day JFK was assassinated. I also remember where I was the day his brother Robert was assassinated and the day Martin Luther King, Jr. was assassinated. Living through these events, and later the assassination of Anwar Sadat, much of my view of the world was changed. We live in a dangerous and troubled world, and there are individuals and groups of individuals who resist great change and resist the unity that these visionaries sought to bring.

In my lifetime, I have been blessed to watch the United States change from a time when certain individuals could not walk into a restaurant because of the color of their skin to a time when a black couple with their two lovely daughters stood arm in arm, center stage in front of the American People and in fact, the entire world, and acknowledged with great pride and humility that they were not only prepared to, but had been asked to walk through the front door of the White House in just over two months to lead us through whatever we face for the next four years. And this morning I am filled with a pride that I have never before experienced.

Today, I am proud to be an American in a way I have never felt proud before. 28 years ago, Ronald Wilson Reagan stood before the American People and, with a twinkle in his eye, stated that it was “Morning In America.” As much as I disagreed with him during the time he was my president, he was right. Coming out of the Watergate scandal, the oil embargoes, staggering inflation and violence throughout the world, a great change was needed. Some immediate change did take place that was very positive for the world, though much of the change that has taken place during the past 3 decades has been change that has made our nation and our world less safe, less kind, less gentle and less tolerant.

During that time, we have had four presidents who sought to bring about their own visions of change. The past eight years have been a traumatic time in our world. The violence that has spread like a virus threatens to destroy us, and there are individuals and groups of individuals who celebrate this threat. They have always been amongst us, and always will. We cannot and must not be cowed by them. We must continue to stand up to them. For the past eight years, we as a people have not been asked to sacrifice. We have not been asked to do one thing. When our country was attacked, we were told to go shopping.

The recklessness with which our current leadership has utilized our most precious of resources (i.e., our young women and men who so bravely volunteer to defend us in our time of crisis) has brought us to the brink of extinction as a nation. This cavalier show of force in which we have engaged has squandered a budget surplus, has weakened our strength in the eyes of the world and has contributed to making our world less safe. Last night ushered in a bright new day. It is again Morning in America and I hold my head high as I accept the challenge placed before me by my new commander in chief to be a part of a changing world. What is the sacrifice you ask of me, Mr. President? You see, last night I got the first really good night’s sleep I’ve had in a long time. Yes, it is once again morning in America and I am well rested and ready to serve.

Happy Trails

Just one of the many tunes that rattles around in my brain when I'm pedaling along out there.

Riding the Stillaguamish, Sauk and Skagit Rivers

October can be one of the most beautiful months of the year in the Northwest. This proved to be an outstanding weekend for cycling, as seven of us found out, taking on the nearly flat “Three Rivers Cruise” 200K RUSA permanent on the 18th. This was Chris Heg’s opportunity to get his 2nd 200K in towards his R-12 pursuit and Pam Creighton reluctantly let me twist her arm into coming out and stoking for me on tandem. The three of us were joined by Geoff Swarts, one of our local Permanents coordinators, Shan Perera, Mike Richeson and Thai Nguyen, all fantastic randonneurs and great guys to ride with.

We chose a little bit later start time, as it tends to be quite foggy and cool riding from Arlington to Darrington at this time of year, and we hoped for both a burning off of the fog early and an ability to finish by sunset. As we rode out of Arlington, it looked for a while like the 2nd hope might be more realistic than the 1st.



It burned off pretty early, though, giving the valley a really nice crisp autumn feel.



This is one of my favorite views. While the photo doesn't show it in all of its grandeur, I've always been amazed at the uplifted granite 'slabs' that make up the northeastern portion, wondering what it must have felt like on planet earth when that happened



And no trip through this area is quite complete without a little view of Whitehorse Mountain:



We stopped for some snacks in Darrington (gotta have them receipts, right?) and Mike, Geoff and Thai managed to stop moving long enuf for me to catch a quick shot:



And in a rare moment, the team actually let Pam and I sit on for a few minutes at the BACK instead of pulling the whole freight train. Danged tandems, anyway:



All of the fall foliage was simply spectacular, even if we didn't see as many eagles as I'd hoped:



And then it was time to cross the Sauk River:



By the time we made it to Marblemount, Pam was definitely ready to stop at The Eatery for a bit of soup and hot cup of tea.



I had pie, too.

I thought Chris wanted to take my picture:



How was I supposed to know he was trying to take a photograph of a TREE?????



After a nice lunch, it was off to follow the Skagit River for a while:



Over a couple of hills and through another little valley, we arrived in Concrete:



where Shan had caught up to us and most of us stopped to either load up on water or get rid of some:



And of course, once we were back on the road, where was the tandem? Yep, you guessed it, pulling all those singles AGAIN!!!



But where was Chris? Pam and I "decided" to "slow down and wait for him". Yep, that's my story and I'm sticking to it.



Due to some kind of misforune - or perhaps because the sun felt so good reflecting off the firestation, Thai and Shan were still at Day Creek when Pam and I arrived:





Of course, by the time we got to the Day Creek Fire Station for our informational control where we had to count doors and find a well hidden church, Pam was ready for a little bit of a nap:



And Chris arrived a few minutes later, having had his own little tire difficulties:



And with another 35 miles to go, we all struck off for the finish line. Geoff and Mike were far off the front by then, Shan and Thai had taken off just before Chris arrived and we saw them parked at Clear Lake Store as we rolled through. After a quick 5-minute "butt break" at 5-Corners, Chris, Pam and I scooted out for the final 20, only to be turned around by the WSP due to a road closure, leading to a 3-mile backtrack and traversing of the west side of Clear Lake. We managed to pick Shan and Thai up again, and now it was starting to look like we were going to be really pushing it to finish before sunset, but with just a real quick, 3-minute "Mountain Dew Moment for Raleighdon" at the little mimi-mart at Lake McMurray, we were off for the final 10-mile push.

And as we dropped into the valley in Arlington, the shadows were long



but we were within a couple miles, with just one little hill to go over to the finiah line. And as we crossed back over the Skagit River, with 1 mile to the finish line, the sun was just beginning to drop over the horizon



We rolled to the finish line just as the last of the sun was setting on the day and I rolled the tandem to the front door of Haggen's



When we got off, Pam said to me, "I'll walk back to the car". Her butt hurt. She wanted nothing more to do with that tandem (or probably me, for that matter).

And so came to close another beautiful and marvelous day, spent with good friends on a great ride route and I went home to yet another wonderful bowl of hot soup and cornbread, of course this time cooked by my loving and supportive MimiTabby:



Photo Credits: Pam took all the lovely scenery shots, I took the people shots. The photo of Mimi was taken in Sorrento on one of our honeymoons.