Girl's Night (Ride) Out

Sometimes, it's girl's night out.
So your husband takes the kids to the movies. And you, you get dressed up.
You put on your wool undershirt, your baggy knickers, your long sleeve pink and black jersey and your beaver socks. You wrap your light tightly on your helmet, pull your battery off the charger and slip it into your jersey pocket.
And you go into the garden and collect various flowers and you place them in a piece of tissue paper. And you go down into the garage and pull your bike off of the hook and place it near the front of the garage and you oil your chain. You put on your helmet and slide the bottle of wine into the water bottle cage holder, slide your shoes on and hold onto the flowers while steering and you head up to your neighbor's house. Her kids and husband are gone and she's hosting a girl's night out at her house.
But you can only stay for an hour. Because in an hour, it's girl's night (ride) out back at your house.
So you have a few glasses of wine. And you talk about your kids and how smart they are and what teacher they have and why they're better then all the other kids. And you have some chips and dip and you hold the baby of the mom who's new and you coo and laugh and smile and nod. And all the while you're looking at your watch.
And soon it's getting dark and you excuse yourself politely and say goodbye to all the other moms and you ride back down to your house.

Sometimes it's girl's night out and you have 10 women come to your house and they bring mountain bikes and lights and snacks and something to drink. And it's warm out and a tiny bit foggy. And someone brings their boyfriend.
And you tinker with your bikes and your lights and someone passes around a flask of something and you eat a few clif blocks and talk about how Erin hasn't really ridden her new bike yet, but this will be a good ride for it.
And then you all set out up the hill. You all ride quietly through the canyons until you hit the first trail. And single file, one by one each woman pedals up the first hill onto the first part of the trail and you ride. And it feels nice. And you smile.
And you ride and ride and ride.
Sometimes you take a left turn onto the single track and it's dark and foggy and you can see the trail and the stream of little headlamp lights up ahead and behind, bobbing and winding and flowing and following and you start singing to yourself. It's girl's night out and you wonder how many other moms are spending their night like this.
And you ride and ride and ride.

On girl's night out, sometimes you come to a fork in the trail and you all stop to make sure that all 11 are there and then Janet passes her flask around and you sip it and it warms your ears. And when you start up again there's more laughing and the single track flows just a little bit smoother.
Sometimes as you ride, you can hear your hubs buzzing and the cracking of the leaves under your wheels and the bumping of the tires against the roots and rocks but you can't see any of it because the fog has gotten thicker and your glasses are fogging up and your light is still pointed too far down from the last time you stopped and tilted it down because you didn't want to blind Sam as you were talking to her.
So you tilt your light back up as you're barreling down the trail and it helps a little bit.
And you ride and ride and ride.
And every so often you look down at your watch and think, this is girl's night out and my kids are in bed and it's late and I'm out here riding single track. And you take in a really deep breath and slowly let it out because you know that it's all very perfect right now.
Sometimes we make a wrong turn and back track a little bit and we have to look at the map to make sure we know where we're going. On girl's night out we use a map that Morgan has made for us, highlighted with arrows in the direction we should be going. So we turn around and take the trail that goes down, with Jennifer leading us.

And we ride and ride and ride.
Sometimes we get to the end of the single track on girl's night out and we take a left and cruise along the ridge looking for a way out. And we come to the end of the fire road and there's the real road and we realize it's over.
I look at my watch and two and a half hours has passed and I think, how can that be, we only just started. And Jennifer and I talk about where we should go next, but decide to ride back down to the house sensing that the others want to be done.
Sometimes it's girls night out and after our ride we eat pretzels and drink beer and talk about how we suck in our stomachs at the neighborhood pool while we walk around in bikinis and wonder if it's the last summer we can get away with even wearing bikinis.
This is how we spend girl's night out.

I have my mountain back!

One of my cycling goals this year is to ride a vertical century, or accumulate 100 miles of total climbing before December 31. Oddly, I was actually a little behind schedule until last month, when I managed 17km of climbing in 31 days. Yet I had to do all that without being able to climb the highest mountain in the area, as it has been closed by the landslide that came within 15 minutes of killing me for the last two months. Well, the road to Springbrook was re-opened last week, but as I was touring around Crows Nest, I didn't get a crack at it until Saturday morning. It's amazing how I didn't think what happened last time, and simply headed straight for it.

The landslide from before took out quite a chunk of the mountain, and the view from the inside of one particular narrow switchback will be scarred for some time. Oddly, given the length of time that the road was closed, there was surprisingly little work done in the area - only the erection of a rather flimsy 'fence' that won't even slow another landslide should it happen next wet season. Nevertheless, it was a good feeling to be back. Each mountain climb has a unique feeling about it, and Springbrook's was in evidence on a cool morning. I realised how much I've missed it since that crazy April day.

Yet something else about that place that's not often noticed is just how many different things there are to see, be it flower or exotic plants. I think that's why I keep coming back, even when the mountain threatens to throw rocks at me. Still, I don't mind, the variety gives me a great escape from suburbia, and a great way to spend a morning. Now that I have my mountain back, nothing is going to stop me!

The dark time

Darker than usual this year, as the tramworks have put out of action some of the city centre streetlights. On Saturday afternoon the streets leading off Princes Street were unlit chasms. Dark in the countryside enfolds, but dark in a city, among the press of shadowy crowds, is unsettling. The streets that were lit reminded me of the opening of Ursula Le Guin's 'The Left Hand of Darkness'. "Rainclouds over dark towers, rain falling in deep streets, a dark storm-beaten city of stone, through which one vein of gold winds slowly."
But Edinburgh's 'Winter Wonderland' is taking shape again (already?). Behind the spire of the Scott Monument the big wheel experiments with a red zig zag of lights.
In answer to Tami's question, we have about 7 hours 40 minutes of daylight this week, but with low cloud it feels MUCH less!

Pat Conroy's My Reading Life

Pat Conroy's done it again; written an engaging, heart-wrenching book chronicling his life as a reader and writer.
I adore books about books and the reading life and he doesn't disappoint. He gives much more than a list of books, although he does do that.
Flowing through his life like a discordant melody is his father's influence, The Great Santini. Larger than life and scary as all get out, Pat still deals with the demons caused by this sadistic fighter pilot.
Also present is his gentle mother who would read along with her son every book assigned to him in school. Embarrassed by her lack of education, she was driven to improve herself through books. This mutual love of the written word was in many ways a saving grace for them both.
One chapter is called The Old New York Book Shop. Pat frequented this shop in Atlanta for many years and became best friends with its owner. While keeping the store one afternoon for his friend, he had a most unusual customer.
Mr. Conroy writes: Though I was reading O'Neill's most accomplished play, he wore me down in gloomy rain forests of dialogue that seemed both exhausting and fruitless. But the moment froze when the front door opened and three large, muscle-bound men walked into the store like an offensive line breaking out of a huddle. The largest man signaled someone outside in a limousine and a lithe, watchful young man with a terrific hat and expensive sunglasses entered the store. When he asked me a question, he appeared shy as a mollusk.
"Do you have any books on freaks?" he asked."We specialize in freaks here," I answered. "You ever met the owner?""Cliff, isn't it?" the man said, looking at me sidelong. "I bought some books from him last time I was in Atlanta.""First room on the right after the bathroom," I said, pointing. "I know he bought a collection of circus books last week.""Circus freaks?" the man asked."I haven't checked them out. He's got a couple of books on the Elephant Man.""I bet I own them,' the young man said. "I tried to buy the skeleton of the Elephant Man last year in England. They refused to do business with me. It upset me very much.""Those uptight limey bastards," I said.
I then went back to reading O'Neill, thus missing any further opportunity to meet Michael Jackson. When Cliff told me who had just bought several hundred dollars' worth of books from me, I remembered the man's hauntedness but also his innate sweetness. Michael Jackson was simply another celebrity who proved that fame could damage a human soul without even breaking a sweat.
Can you imagine selling books to Michael Jackson and not knowing who he is?
Pat Conroy's writing makes me want to swoon and cry at the same time. I've never met an author that moved me so. If I ever do meet him on Fripp Island, heaven help me! If two old people are seen running down the beach, one chasing the other, it'll probably be us!

Where's Waldo?

Somewhere on the road between Grand Marais and Chicago. Who knew?

Bike Hauler Home

The new bicycle hauler is FINALLY home. Its been a real pain (buying a car, not the performance of the car).
Last time I blogged about this, the dealership (Classic Chevrolet Cadillac) was trying to find another car. They refunded my deposit, apologized (the money should not have been deposited), and assured me they would find me a vehicle to my liking.
Last Monday, they advised me they found a silver Impala with the options I wanted. They inspected my old Impala for trade-in value.
Tuesday evening I received e-mail from the sales gal. I needed to come in to finalize the purchase - Wednesday. Had to be that afternoon (because she did not come into work until 2pm).
More frustration. I came in, she went through the $$$. It did not match my internet generated invoice (but at least it was in my favor). The big problem was that the trade-in was not listed. The Manager was not in because of a family emergency. Took them over 30 minutes to 1) start reworking the trade-in estimate and 2) call the manage and find out where the estimate was.
I had a min and max value in mind. They came almost in the middle of the range from keep the old car vs trade it in. Sales gal was pushing to get the deal signed. I was getting more frustrated. Left to cool down, clear my head. Back Thursday to sign paperwork.
From there, over to the bank. They told me it would take 3-4 hours to prepare the loan paperwork. Further, the bank officers I was working with was not in that day. Told them I would be back Friday morning when they opened.
Friday morning signed loan paperwork and delivered the check to the dealership. My sales gal was not in that day. I told another salesman that I had been also working with that I would be in shortly after 9am Saturday to take delivery.
Saturday at breakfast my phone rang (but I did not hear it). At the dealership I was advised that the car was not in yet. The truck is supposed to bring it in SOMETIME Saturday in time for me to pick it up.
I was pulling into the driveway at home when the phone rang - my car was in. Back into town. Finally took delivery of my new Impala about 11am.

Weekend then Home

Saturday was an errand day. Needed a day off the bike and not tourist plans. Did some shopping and started re-packing for the trip home. Met cousin Don for food and beers at Billy's Long Bar.

Spend this morning recovering and packing. Yesterday was sunny and mid 50s. Today was low 50s and cloudy. I should have ridden yesterday. Instead, I waited to ride today.

Plans were to ride "The Bosque". Knew the parking lot at Central would be packed, so drove south. Parking lots at "Tinley Beach" were full. Ended up parking just south of the Zoo. Ride down to Rio Bravo.

I noticed that the trail had recently re-surfaced. Much better condition that last I rode that way. There, the trail was closed for construction. Turned around the head back to the car. I was a little cold - should have used heavier gloves and another layer on the core. Anyway, logged in 7 miles.

Late lunch at Applebee's and spemt the rest of the afternoon packing. Took a little break to process photos of today's ride.