Invasion

A sample of how it looks from my house when the balloons take off and fly over Albuquerque. It was a bit hazy for taking a good shot this morning.

Moonrise Magic

If you've never stayed up and watched a moonrise in the middle of the night, you need to do it sometime. Put it at the top of your list! When its dark out and the moon comes up, it is soooo orange, you won't believe your eyes. Couple that warm light with calm waters and some nice clouds and you're in for a treat you won't soon forget!



My friend Roger was up for another visit, and we were getting in some more night-time shooting experience with our cameras. We waited for the moonrise on both friday and saturday nights. Both nights were equally spectacular. We made exposures anywhere from 30 seconds to half an hour in length. The clouds made for some very special images for the both of us. These two nights were some of the most fun that I've had shooting the moonrise.

Is He or Isn't He?

The question being, is Jacob Switzer #2 a son of Jacob Switzer #1 and his wife Elizabeth?



Jacob #1 did not leave a will nor was there a probate file found for him, thus we do not know with any certainty at this time who his children were, which was discussed in this post.



There is only circumstantial evidence that might connect them, and, to be honest, rather flimsy evidence at that!



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When were they in Columbiana County and where did they live?



Jacob #2 born January 4, 1788 was married on February 26, 1811 in Columbiana County to Caty Brinker. He was 23 years old at the time. He initially lived in Fairfield Township on the land inherited by his wife Catherine from her father Andrew Brinker. In 1838 they purchased land in section 33 of Salem Township and they were living there in the 1840 census. This land was not far from where Jacob #1 and Elizabeth Switzer lived in section 23, also in Salem Township. Jacob #2 easily “fits” in as one of the older children of Jacob and Elizabeth, who were reportedly married on February 19, 1786. They had a daughter, Elizabeth, reportedly born on December 25, 1786 so it is possible that Jacob #2 could be their second child.



But then, so could Jacob #4 who was born November 8, 1788. However, he does not appear in Columbiana County census records until 1830. He is listed in Fairfield Township from 1830 through 1850 where he presumably lived until his death on March 25, 1859. He was already married to his wife Catharine when he arrived in Columbiana County. Yes, he was born the same year and died the same year as Jacob #2, and they both had wives named Catharine.



Then there is Jacob #3 born December 25, 1794 who arrived in Columbiana County about 1815. He was 21 years old when he married Polly Skelton on January 16, 1816 in Columbiana County. In 1824 they sold their land and moved to what later became Ashland County, Ohio. So he was only in Columbiana County a few years, about 1815-1824.



So far, no evidence except that Jacob #2 was in Columbiana County earlier than the other two and he lived closer to Jacob #1 than the others.



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Well, what about naming patterns of their children?



The first two daughters of Jacob #2 were named Barbara and Elizabeth. Barbara was presumably named after Catherine's mother, Barbara Leatherman. Could Elizabeth have been named after her “grandmother” Elizabeth, wife of Jacob #1 ? Or was this merely coincidence? The other three known daughters of Jacob #2 were Rebecca, Susan, and Sarah.



Neither of the other two Jacob Switzers have a daughter named Elizabeth. At least, not that we know of anyway.

• Known children of Jacob #3 were John, William, Nancy, Margaret, and Lewis.


• Children known of Jacob #4 were Ann, Sophia, Benjamin, Lydia, Eliza, and Susan.

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What does the term “Junior” really mean?



On page 133 of the 1828 Ohio Tax Records for Chattels (i. e., personal property) is an entry for a Jacob Switzer and Jacob Switzer (indexed as Junior). The first one listed appears to have an “S” after his name (first line in image). But I can't figure out what it is after the second Jacob Switzer (at the bottom of the image). In any case, in 1828 there were only two Jacob Switzers known to be in Columbiana County – Jacob #1 and Jacob #2.





Also, in his will, Andrew Brinker refers to the husband of his daughter Catharine as Jacob Sweitzer Jr.





Of course, back in the day, “Junior” sometimes simply indicated a younger man with the same name. It didn't necessarily mean that “Junior” was the son of the elder man.



=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=

And that leaves us with what? Not much, I'm afraid. Mostly wishful thinking on my part. Obviously, a whole lot more research will be needed before I can claim Jacob #1 and his wife Elizabeth - if ever - as ancestors! At this point, I guess I'm “beating a dead horse” as the saying goes, rehashing the same information over and over.



So, for now, this concludes the saga of my research on the Switzer families of Columbiana County, Ohio.... until something new shows up!



All posts related to the Switzer families are summarized in this Index to Posts. If anyone doing research on these families is interested in collaborating, please contact me at kinexxions@gmail.com - Jacob #2 and his wife Catharine are my 4th great-grandparents.

Iceland Poppy

A picture of an Iceland poppy I took a few weeks ago.

In Defense of Bad Weather

All week long people have been apologising for the weather. It's been raining severely for at least a portion of every day that I've been here. But the thing is, I really don't mind. And it is certainly not ruining my stay here.



Consider, for instance, that some of the most dramatic scenery emerges in bad weather. The gathering of storm clouds. The mist rising over the glens. The waves crashing onto rocky shores. Tall grass windswept. These things cannot be captured - or seen, for that matter - without this so-called "bad" weather.In the rain, colours look brighter, more saturated. The smell of flowers grows more intense, Textures come out that are not otherwise visible.



In bad weather, you get to know a place better. Any spot can look charming in the sunshine and under blue skies. But how will it look in the rain and under the shadow of storm clouds? Some places are rather depressing as soon as the weather turns bad; others are breathtakingly romantic.



They say rain is good for your complexion, that it makes your skin radiant and restores elasticity. Just think: Every time you are out in the rain, you are really getting a beauty treatment.



In the rain the country roads are mostly empty - ideal for cycling in peace and tranquility while enjoying views unobscured by cars and tourists.



It's a clichéto say there is no such thing as bad weather, and I don't really believe that anyway. There are tornados, hurricanes, lightning storms, blizzards. But some heavy rain? I get my camera, check my brakes, wear waterproof clothing, turn my lights on, protect my equipment inside a bicycle bag, and enjoy the ride. No need to apologise, Ireland - the weather is lovely!

In Praise of the Saddle Wedge

The majority of my road rides are around 100 km or less, and done in stable weather conditions. On rides like these I want to keep the bike light, but still carry the essentials - such as a multi-tool, spare tube, band-aids, and an extra snack. My mini-pump is attached to the bottle cage, and anything else I prefer to store in my jersey pockets. This is why I love the basic saddle wedge. Also called a seat pack, this style of bicycle bag attaches to a saddle's rails and does not require bag loops. It is small enough to sit underneath the saddle without any part of it sticking out beyond the saddle's profile. And for those times when you want to attach a full-sized saddlebag, the wedge is quick and easy enough to remove.



My ideal saddle wedge is just large enough to fit the essentials. It is lightweight, easy to open and close, and attaches securely. I also like it when the bag has a loop in the back for a tail light attachment. There are lots of options for this type of bag. Here are the three I use on my bikes.





On my main roadbike I've been using a Jandd Hurricane Mini Mountain Wedge for the past year. As far as this style of bag goes it is on the larger size, but still very compact and light. Dimensions are 6x10x20cm, volume is 2L and weight is 104g. Made of vinyl-lined cordura, this bag is water and abrasion-resistant. Price is $26.95.





There are several features I really like about the Hurricane. For something this small, it sure fits a lot. In addition to the essentials listed earlier, I can usually stuff small tubes of chamois cream, sun screen, and even an article of clothing inside the main compartment. There is also a second compartment - a shallow pocket on the underside of the bag - for keeping money, ID, a brevet card, or similar. The reflective strip in the rear doubles as a tail light loop.





The Jandd Hurricane attaches with an adjustable strap that threads over the saddle rails, then closes with a side-squeeze buckle on the bottom, threading through a lash tab on the underside of the bag. This makes for a very secure attachment system, especially compared to some bags that use only small strips of velcro. A secondary, velcro attachment point wraps around the seatpost. TheJandd Mini-Mountain wedge is available in several versions and lots of colours, as well as in leather, suede and waxed cotton (though the latter will increase the weight of the bag and reduce its waterproofness).





On my dirt road/ camera bike I carry the Cargo Wedge by Inertia Designsas a supplement to my handlebar bag.This is a smaller style of wedge, with a pyramid-like shape to reduce its width. Dimensions (measured at widest parts) are 10x10x14cm, volume is .7L, weight is 70g. Made cordura lined with truck tarp, the bag is water and abrasion-resistant. The bag is US-made.Lots of colours available. Price for the version I have (embroidered with Harris Cyclery's logo) is $21.95.





The cargo wedge has a single compartment with a surround zipper. It attaches via two straps that thread through the saddle rails, then velcro to the side of the bag. The velcro surface is sufficiently long to keep the bag secure. A second loop goes around the seatpost. A reflective strip in the rear incorporates a tail light attachment. The tail light shot should give you an idea of how narrow this bag is.





Smaller still is the Soma Noe Road Wedge, which I typically affix to demo bikes that I test ride or have on loan for review. Soma does make larger saddle wedges, but the "narrow aero" Noe is truly minuscule and will fit just the essentials. Dimensions (measured at widest parts)are 15x9x4cm. Volume and weight are not stated. Made out of a hemp and cotton blend fabric with a waterproof coating, it is water resistant. Available in black and khaki, as well as in an all-reflective fabric. Price for the standard version is $12.99.





The Noe is so narrow that it can literally be wedged in between the saddle rails. Attachment via two velcro straps threaded through the rails, with plenty of adhesive surface, and secondary loop around the seatpost. Single compartment with surround-zipper. A reflective strip in the rear incorporates a tail light attachment. Note that the space for the tail light clip is a little tight here; mine squeezes in just barely.



If you browse through the saddle wedges offered by different companies, you will notice a pattern to their shapes, sizes, closure systems and other features. Some are flat, others pyramid-like. Some use buckle attachments, others velcro. A good way to determine which works best for you is to visit a bike shop that stocks different models and buy the bag there. Also talk to riders who have used specific bags for a while and in different weather conditions. After destroying the Fizik wedge I initially had on my roadbike, I was steered toward the Jandd by a local rider, which has since endured heavy use and bad weather without a mark on it.



When you don't want to carry a lot on your bike, the saddle wedge is a great little bag that keeps things simple and functional.

Into the U.P.

Crossing the Mackinac Bridge into the Upper Peninsula of Michigan.July 31, ..

The first stop was at Brimley State Park, about 15 miles west of Sault Ste. Marie, on the shores of the St. Mary's River. Several pleasant days were spent in the area. Blue skies and sunshine were abundant. Daytime temperatures in the mid-80s with lows in the 60s overnight. Very nice!



Of course I visited the Locks at Sault Ste. Marie. A very large freighter had just entered the locks from the higher Lake Superior side. It took quite a while to get it lowered so it could eventually make its way to Lake Erie and eastward. Movement was imperceptible. Only when you looked away for a few minutes then looked back at the ship could you tell it was sitting lower beneath the top of the locks. Eventually the gates of the locks opened and the ship was on its way. I overheard the Park Ranger (Sault Locks is a National Historical Park) telling someone that the ship that went through was 105 feet wide while the locks were 110 feet wide. A rather tight fit overall.





A few minutes later, a small tourist boat came through. Entering from the east side it had to be raised in order to exit on the west side and into Lake Superior.





The top of the boat is below the top of the locks.



Twelve minutes later, the little boat was on its way. It didn't take nearly as long to raise this little boat as it took to lower the large freighter.



A very nice visitor center has displays on the history of the building of the locks as well as a very informative 20-minute movie.

Saving With An Electric Range

This Pepco ad featuring my mother appeared in 1950 in the Washington Post.

New Baby

My neighbor came by today and said his mare finally had her baby. He is a beautiful baby. Same color as his mama. There is nothing cuter than a new born foal. (Unless it is a kitten) (or a puppy). Well, lets say I just love baby animals.

Blooming Indoors

I have a geranium and an African Violet blooming in the house now.

Gunks Routes: Snooky's Return (5.8) & Friends and Lovers (5.9)

(Photo: working on crux #1 of Friends and Lovers (5.9))



This is a bit of a redemption story.It also involvesasmidgen of humiliation.



Snooky's Return is a 5.8 I've been wanting to do for quite some time. It has eluded me until recently in part because of the curse of the bolted anchors above the first pitch. Without these bolted anchors Snooky's wouldsurelybequite popular.But with those anchors, oy! The chainsmake it so easy to do just the first pitch and then throw a rope over the harder Friends and Lovers(5.9) next door. As a result the climbisconstantly occupied by partieshogging both lines.



Back in , Snooky's was high onmy hit list. I had burning questions I wanted to resolve. Many people claimthe routetakes great gear, but others say it is difficult to protect and requires small wires. Williams says in his guidebook that if you do the entire climb it is "one of the best," but it seems like most people don't bother with pitches two and three. I wanted to find out the truth about these issues for myself. Butthe climbwas always occupied. Weekdays, weekends, it did not matter. I could never find it open.



Then one day earlier this year, during my backing-off phase, I was climbing with G and found Snooky's suddenly available. So I jumped right on pitch one, got off the ground, and promptly confronted the low crux moves at the beginning of the thin vertical crack thatdefines the pitch. (Why do the crux moves always have to come so low?)I only had onesmall nut in the wall for protection. As Ihung outthere, looking up, I couldn't see any obvious placements coming up. So then I looked to the right, because Williams says if you step right, move up, and then come back to the crack it is only 5.7. And the climbing over there didn't look bad; it was just that I couldn't see where I was going to find pro.



After thinking it over for a minute Iaccepted thatI didn't have a good feeling about the climb. Idecided tobail without even trying the moves. My head just wasn't in the right place that day for the low crux.I was preoccupied with worries that I would fall onthe nut andtweak my bad ankle orend upon my ass.



So then I tried to pull my little nut out of the rock and found it was pretty well stuck in there. This was a good nut! But no matter, I'd already decided to bail, and so after I got the nut out I climbed down and we went to do something else.



Ever since, I've been meaning to go back and confront the climb again.



Last week I walked up to Snooky's and just sent the stupid thing. I placed a cam horizontally right off the deck in order to protect against a zipper pull, slotted the bomber small nut right below the crux again, and did the old-school trick of attaching two 'biners to the nut instead of a sling, to minimize extension. Then I went ahead and did the crux move. It'sall about getting your feet up so you can reach the good holds; it is literally a single move of 5.8 and then the crux is over. The rest of theway up to the anchor is a lovely, consistent 5.7 face-climbing pitch, straight as an arrow to the bolts. There's great pro, and you don't need any specialty gear like micronuts.I know I passed up a placement I shouldn't have, right after the crux move. It was just another step to a better stance so I went ahead andmade the move before placing gear, surely moving into ground-fall range in the process. But I felt the step was very secure at the time. Next time I'll place another piece, I promise.



We were a party of three and one of my partners, A, led the second pitch. Also rated 5.8, it too probably has only one 5.8 move on it, asingle delicatestep to the right just past an angle piton. The pitch has nice face climbing and the pro is good, but the line isn't really natural or obvious and the crux isn't terribly interesting or unique. I believe we followed Williams' instructions exactly, up the corner directly above the chains, heading left at the little overlap for about 10 feet, then up a steepening face with a step to the right at the piton and then straight up to the GT Ledge.



Pitch threeis a short roof escape pitch, rated 5.7. I regret that we did not bring the book up with us, because I forgot whether we were supposed to escape to the left or the right. From below, it appeared that the escape to the right would involve a couple awkward, overhangingmaneuvers under the roof, whilegoing left would require a committing layback move or two. It looked like there was a path through the lichen in either direction. I decided to justclimb up there and see what I found.WhenI got to the roof both paths seemed feasible, but I couldn't see what the holds would be like once Iescaped the roof to the right, while I could tell that the path to the left looked easily climbable. So I took theconservative path and headed left; the left escape also seemed likethe more natural line. One awkward laybacking move up (at probably 5.5 or so) and the pitch was over, save for some dirty scrambling to the top. As soon as I got above the roof I knew I'd picked the wrong direction. From above I could see a slightly cleaner path through the lichen on the other side of the roof. Even though I now know I went the wrong way I can tell you that pitch three of Snooky's Return is kind of a throwaway.Assuming there's one great move in the part of the pitch I skipped,thatgreat moveis bookended above and below by dirty, uninteresting climbing. If you do pitch two you may as well do pitch three, as it's the easiest way to get off the cliff.If you wish to skip it there is no easy tree from which to descend in the immediate vicinity on the GT Ledge.



Having done the whole climb, I see why pitch one of Snooky's gets most of the traffic. It is a terrific pitch. It looks hard to protect from below but it isn't. Pitch two is pretty good, and pitch three is kind of a waste. If you go all the way to the top, descending is easyso long as you are familiar enough with the cliff to recognize the Madame G rappel station from above. Walk to climber's right as you top out and a trail will take you to the short scramble down to the bolts. Two single-rope rappels or one double-rope rappel will get you back to the ground. (You also probably can walk to climber's right on the GT Ledge to the bolts after pitch two if you wish to skip pitch three, but I have not tried it.)



As we walked back to our packs I was feeling great about making progress and conquering situations that had intimidated me in the past. Then wereached the base of Snooky's and found a family of four climbing the route. Leading pitch one was an eight-year-old boy. His ten-year-old brother also led it. These kids were using pre-placed gear put up by their dad, butnevertheless I was pretty amazed and humbled to see these kids climbing at such a level. I mean, these kids weren't just working on a 5.8. It was absolutely clear that this climb was far below their abilities. It seemed they could climb circles around me today and who knows how good they'll be by age 15 or so.



As impressive as it was, there was somethinga little disturbing to meabout watching such a young kid, sixty feet off the ground, arguing with his father about the sorts of things kids and dads argue about.



Dad: Clip both of those pieces, son.



Son: Why?? They're right next to each other!



Dad: Because I said so! Clip them both or we're not climbing tomorrow!



I want to be clear that I do not disapprove of this family in any way. I thought the boys were both incredible climbers and very well behaved. The parents were extremely nice and the dad really protected the heck out of the pitch, placing much more gear than I did when I led it, so that it was basically sport-bolted for his children.



But I still couldn't imagine myself in the same situation with my seven-year-old son. Partly this is because I know I couldn't trust my son as much as these parents clearly trust their boys when it comes to safety. My son is just too impulsive; I would constantly worry that, sixty or eighty feet off the ground,he would do something in an instant to jeopardize his life that I would be powerless to prevent.



I also don't trust myself enough. I would be constantly worried about the gear. It is one thing to place trad gear for yourself, but quite another to place it for little kids. When I imagine myself standing below my son, watching him move past a cam, thinking about where a fall wouldtake himif the cam blew... I just shudder.



A part of me wants mykids to fall in love with climbing. (I think it is much less likely to happen with my daughter, which is why I'm writing mostly about my son.) I picture us in ten years taking a day every weekend to climb together and it seems like heaven. But another part of me worries about what could happen. And that part of me wants them to reject climbing entirely. Let it be dad's crazy obsession. My kids are still young enough that I haven't had to confront what every parent deals with eventually: they will make their own decisions and take risks in their lives. I know that day is coming, but I don't want to feel I put them in a position to take more risks than they should. I can't imagine potentially putting them in that position now, when they are still so young.



After we got back to our packs A said he was looking for a 5.9 to lead. Friends and Lovers seemed likethe obvious candidate, since it was sitting there unoccupied right in front of our faces. I knew that most people do it on toprope after leading Snooky's, but Williams calls it a PG lead and I recalled a threadon Gunks.com in which the consensus seemed to be that it was a reasonable lead. I did not know that Swain says it is rated R.



Well, I can tell you I won't be leading it any time soon, even though A did a fine job and I really do think it is a PG lead.



The first crux, working over a small overhang twenty feet up,is very well protected. A had two pieces nearby and worked in a third, a nut over his head, just before pulling this crux.



The second crux, however, cannot be sewn up. There's great gear at your feet, but the move is stiff for 5.9, in my opinion, and involves a very insecure smear-step up, and then at least two more moves before additional gear can be found. My partner A hemmed and hawed at this second crux for a good long time before he made the move on lead and I was the same way following it. It is an intimidating move even with a rope over your head.



You may recall thata few weeks ago I said the 5.9s werefeeling easy (on toprope)? I thought Friends and Lovers was hard, with two different, tricky, thoughtful cruxes. I actually misread the firstcrux and took a fall, then got iton mysecond try. The secondcrux I thought was the more difficult of the two, but I got that one on the first try. I'll wait until I'm more confident before I consider taking the sharp end on this one. It is a high quality pitch, though, and A said he'd happily lead it again.

Dried Leaf in Snow

I found this little redbud tree leaf trying to hang on to it's tree in the snow and wind yesterday.

Thunderhead Clouds

We have been having what is called the New Mexico monsoon season. We have had more rain this year than we have had for several years. This is more like we used to have 25 to 30 years ago and more. Which is really good. Nearly every afternoon we watch the thunderhead clouds come across the Sandia Mountains or else come across the desert from the west until they turn dark and we get a bit of rain. Sometimes just a sprinkle, some times up to a half an inch of rain or so, and then sometimes the clouds just go around us and it rains somewhere else.

Foggy Fall Morning

Taken Saturday morning of last weekend. An overnight low temperature of 28 degrees made for some beautiful fog over the inland lakes Saturday morning. Fog combined with fall colors... not many things make for better photos conditions!

Alaska Highway :: Mile 0

I'm at the beginning of the Alaska Highway at Dawson Creek (aka Mile 0), British Columbia, Canada! Only 1523 miles to Fairbanks...


As you can see, it is a beautiful day. After three days of cloudy, overcast, gloomy skies it is nice to see some blue up there! Today is a National Holiday for Canada – Heritage Day. Maybe the shops just haven't opened yet but there is very little traffic and it is quiet here in the downtown area where there is free wifi, for which I am grateful.

Photos taken a few minutes after 10am this morning (Monday August 2nd).

Moving on down the road...

Frigatebird!

Another one from my sister's Caribbean cruise. She said that the Magnificent Frigatebirds (Fregata magnificens) followed the ship into port, and that she saw as many as thirty at a time.

These seabirds came well inland (to middle Alabama at least) during some of the recent hurricanes in the gulf. Charles Kennedy, president of the South Alabama Birding Association, spoke recently on Weekend Edition about hurricane birds. (His birdhouses are wonderful, by the way.) There's also an article about post-hurricane birding on the SABA site, here.

This bird is one of my favorites to see in flight. I'm not sure which is more exciting, a Frigatebird or a Swallow-tailed Kite. And a day when you see both is truly spectacular and rare.

South Early Winter Spire SW Rib ..

Elevation Gain: 2600'
5 miles RT
Left car: 11:15 am
Summit: 7:30 pm
Back at car: 10:00 pm
11 hours car to car

Steve and I planned a big climbing weekend. We didn't finalize our objectives until a few days before the weekend. The first leg would be an attempt on the Southwest Rib of South Early Winter Spire. Our plan was to climb South Early on Saturday, and then head to Cascade Pass to climb Forbidden on Sunday/Monday.

We had a casual start from Seattle on Saturday and arrived at the Blue Lake trail head in the late morning. Temps were cool, and it was a bit cloudy. We made awesome time to the base where we ate lunch and started to gear up. (And Steve took a "bathroom break".) There was a party on route ahead of us and they were a few pitches up. We hung our remaining gear in the tree, and headed up the direct start. [Using the description from Weekend Rock.]

Steve led off on the first pitch which was a loose and not easily protected corner. He went a little off route at one point (he called it the 5.10 variation) and was finally at the belay. I followed and found the pitch a struggle, and mostly unenjoyable. The off route variation took me some time to complete as I couldn't manage the moves Steve did and did an even different variation. This off route issue on the first pitch burned a lot of time for us, (Steve thought over and hour) but we weren't too concerned.

I led off on the next pitch which was short and if we didn't go off route on the first pitch, probably could have been combined with it. This short pitch was a moderate crack that brought you up to the next belay just below a major flake that is the following pitch. We changed over leads and Steve was on his way.

This crack is wider and has an interesting design to it with a large edge as its left side. The crack was fairly steep, and Steve headed up it straddling the flake with one leg on the face and one in the crack. There was much grunting. (Not as much as from the woman who was ahead of us-I think she was actually crying at one point.) Steve made his way up and commented about the amount of blood on the rock. He combined the pitch with the following pitch and started to bring me up. I climbed the crack with both feet in for the initial part, and then about 1/3 of the way up I used the flake for feet as my feet were killing me from jamming them in the crack. The last third of the pitch you come out and lie back the final portion. Exciting to go from the relative security of the crack out on to the face. The second pitch of this link up was a wide crack in a slab.

Top of the fourth pitch (photo by Steve Machuga)

It was my turn to lead the next pitch which was a slab pitch. It starts out by going around a corner and then up a nice slab with some exposure. The book description said somewhat runout, but it was oddly only runout for the crux, which in the book was stated as being "an exciting step to the right." It was a fun pitch and I set a gear belay at the base of the bear hug cracks and brought Steve up.

Rounding the corner to gain the slab (photo by Steve Machuga)

Since I had told Steve at the base that I wanted to lead the bear hug cracks, he let me lead this next pitch as well. This was a super enjoyable pitch where you head up a short crack that brings you to a small ledge at the bottom of wide double cracks. They took a touch of effort to get on, but once on them, I found the climbing easy. What was not particularly easy was protecting them. We had brought a #5 Camalot just for this pitch (although we used it on 2-3 other pitches as well.) The bear hug cracks were too wide for the #4 and so I had to move the #5 up with me at least once. Just above the cracks I was able to get in a #4 and then proceeded up a ramp to the next belay, where I brought Steve up.

Bear Hug Cracks (Photo by Steve Machuga)

Steve led out on the next bit and then we started simul-climbing. (This was roughly pitches seven and eight.) He belayed me up to just below the bunny ears, and then I led a short bit to the rap anchor at the bunny ears. We rapped off the scary (freestanding block) anchor into the notch. Then Steve led the final pitch up to the summit area. It was a fun little crack that brought you up to near the summit. Since it was late in the day and clouds seemed to be rolling in, we bypassed the summit block and started our way down the South Arete.

Bottom of pitch 7 (photo by Steve Machuga)

We scrambled most of the the descent until we got to one of the chimneys. We opted to rappel at the rap station there and that is where we were joined by another party who had just topped out on an east face route. One of the guys, Blake, scrambled down to me and set up the next rappel at the next chimney and rapped down. They allowed us to use their rope and I rapped it to find Blake scrambling down to the base. One of his partners came down and said "its only 5.0 right?" and started scrambling the final bit as well. His other partner showed up with another rope and we rappelled to the base. The one partner who started scrambling got a bit sketched and rapped the last bit before Steve could finally rap down.

Once on the ground, we returned to our packs at the base, turned on our headlamps and hiked out.

Overall this was a great climb. Although it was 5.6, the first pitch was no doubt the crux for us. (Were we off route the entire time?) It was loose, not well protected, and strenuous. There were three really enjoyable (dare I say great?) pitches on the route and some other good pitches as well. While clouds threatened all day, they mostly stuck to bothering the nearby peaks like Silver Star and Cutthroat. It was windy and cool on route, but we did have brief moments of sun.

My pics are here.

Passing the Link-Love Around

There's a love virus meme being propagated through the genea-blogosphere and kinexxions has been tagged twice! Thanks go to both Thomas MacEntee at Destination: Austin Family and Sheri Fenley at The Educated Genealogist.

The rules associated with this particular tagging thingy are that the tagged blogger

• can put the logo on his/her blog
• must link to the person who gave the award
• must nominate seven other blogs and link to them
• must leave a comment on each of the nominated blogs

I've selected some of the "newer" blogs that I enjoy reading.
Listed in "reverse" alphabetical order ;-)

• We Tree by Amy Coffin
• Twig Talk by Sheri Bush
• TJLGenes : Preserving Our Family History byTravis LeMaster
• Taylorstales-Genealogy by Taylorstales
• Photo-Sleuth by Brett Payne
• Nana's Diggins by Suzy
• From Axer to Ziegler by Linda "in Lancaster" Stienstra
  

Danny Boy

When we moved to the US in the early '90s, I promptly started junior high school in a small New England town. The first thing I remember about walking into the classroom, was the shock of green cardboard shamrocks strung up all over the walls and a large banner declaring "Erin Go Bragh." (That's not how you spell it, a friend from Cork would later wrinkle her nose. But never mind.) Our teacher was fiercely Irish, as were at least half of the students. Second or third generation mainly, and, truth be told, most of them ethnically mixed. But Irish identities had a way of dominating in those days - when the economic boom had not yet hit the Emerald Isle, when South Boston still had romantic notoriety, and when House of Pain's Jump Around played several times a day on MTV.Most chose to express this identity through visual iconology: shamrocks, leprechauns, bright kelly green, friendship rings, and abundant use of faux-celtic fonts. But soon fate brought the opportunity to also express it musically.



In those days, our school had a rather famousa cappellachoir, led by our passionate and popular music teacher, Mr. McKenna. It wasn't just anyone who could join this elite group. There were limited spots. The annual tryouts involved weeks of preparation from hopefuls and bitter tears from those who did not make it. But those of us who made it... my goodness, we felt special. In the mornings, we went to choir practice instead of home room.We wore beautiful uniforms.We stood side by side, in a tight formation on metal risers. Labeled a strong Soprano, I still remember my place: 3rd row, 5th from the right. Our choir recorded albums. Our choir preformed in competitions and won. Once a year we even travelled to compete in the national finals, inevitably returning with medals.



We were one of the best, Mr. McKenna would tell us, again and again, beaming at our fresh-scrubbed teenage faces, our teary eyes and our chapped lips from hours of singing. And we were one of the best because we worked at it. Because we rehearsed until each piece was perfect. And if it wasn't perfect (his face would turn serious now, almost stormy), we did not perform it. Not at a local Christmas concert, and certainly not at competition. Was that understood by each and every one of us? It was.



The national finals happened in May. Competing choirs would select their performance pieces in September, then spend the entire school year rehearsing them. The year I entered the 8th grade, Mr. McKenna gathered us to announce the competition selection with an air of festivity: For our main piece, we would be singing Danny Boy. As he distributed the sheet music, it was clear that the piece was very, very dear to him.



With tears in his eyes, Mr. McKenna talked about Ireland. How beautiful it was and how special his visit there with his wife and children had been - a place where his great grandfather had once lived and farmed.Later, as we struggled with the song, he talked about visualising the glens and imagining Danny Boy's plight. We tried our best, although most of us did not know what glens were exactly.



It was a beautiful, but complicated piece. Or maybe the arrangement Mr. McKenna had chosen was complicated, his judgment clouded by a reverence for the song's Irishness. Overly nuanced harmonies, notes held too long for our young lungs, sharp transitions from low notes to high. We were a good choir, but we were amateurs. We were a motivated bunch of kids, but we only had so much energy to give, after our classes and homework and turbulent teenage love-lives.



In fairness, we were doing fine with Danny Boy. We were getting there. But for Mr. McKenna's liking, we were not getting there fast enough. So he panicked, and he pushed us. With passionate pep talks and hours of extra rehearsals, he pushed and he pushed. He pushed until the melody of Danny Boy began to sound like nails against a chalkboard to our ears. He pushed until the lyrics lost all meaning and each repetition felt like a seizure-induced loop. He pushed until, instead of inspiring a breakthrough, Mr. McKenna broke our spirits.



Having come down with the flu, I did not join the choir in that year's finals. I did not witness the mass hysteria and weeping after, for the first time in its 12 year history, our choir failed to earn a medal at the competition. I only saw my peers' dejected faces when they returned home empty handed. I only saw the careless wrinkles in their uniforms at our next local performance and the way they slouched on the risers, with Mr. McKenna not bothering to chide us for either transgression.



We never talked about it. But deep down we all connected our choir's fall from grace with this attempt at a perfect rendition of Danny Boy. The piece was simply too personal, too precious for Mr. McKenna; he gave in to the rawness of his emotions and lost perspective. The following year, when I was already in high school, we heard that Mr. McKenna stepped down as music teacher and moved away. We were told he had health problems, and there were whispers of a nervous breakdown. It was not until years later that we learned he divorced his wife of 30 years and married one of his former students (by then a high school graduate, aged 19), which prompted parents to call for his resignation.



I have not thought about any of this in years. But I think about it now, in the mornings, as I lock up my bike in the town center of Limavady, Northern Ireland. There is a contemporary sculpture next to the cafe where I like to work. It is vaguely glen-shaped, in an abstract sort of way, and engraved with the lyrics to Danny Boy. Across the street is the colourful Corner Bar, its walls painted with murals containing more references to the song. And a helpful inscription explains the connection: "It was in Limavady that the famous melody 'Danny Boy' was noted down by Jane Ross from a tune played by a blind street fiddler named Jimmy McCurry." The original name of the melody was actually Londonderry Air, written byEnglishman Frederic Weatherly. But never mind. It's been 20 years since I sang Danny Boy and I still remember the lyrics.

Cottonwood Tree

This is the biggest cottonwood tree that survived the fire in this little area. Paseo del Norte highway is to the left of it. The pathway runs to the right of it. You can see the dead cottonwood trunk that has the sandhill crane on top of it. The Rio Grande River is farther on beyond the tree and park.

Budweiser Clydedale Horses

A day or so before I let for Las Cruces I saw on Facebook where a friend of a friend had seen the big red trucks with the Budweiser Clydesdales going down the freeway in Oklahoma so I checked their website to see where they were going and a mircle. They were to be in Las Cruces at the same time I was with a stop in El Paso, Texas for Thanksgiving parade. Dustin and I got in a quick trip to a mall where the horses would be on display for a few hours one afternoon for the public to see and photograph. That is me in the hat and pink shirt. It was very crowed but I expected that. you could get up near the horses for photos. Had to say back 5 feet and lots didn't seem to know how far 5 feet was. Then they would drive the horses in a big circle around the parking lot and the trucks, then stop for more photos.





I love this one. One driver looks bored, maybe napping, as does the dog and the other driver is yawning.







































































































From the back of the wagon.






















Big feet.