Salcey Forest to Stoke Bruerne.

With Barry, Gordon and Eddie. Very hot. One or two unclear footpath experiences, including one that disappeared completely. About 11.5 miles. Lunch at Boat Inn SB. Too much road as well, though they were mostly quiet ones.


From the main visitor car park, we walk along the road and over the M1 towards Hartwell. Here we turn off to our right on the path towards Rowley Wood. We have to skirt the wood and we end up back in Hartwell, since the other route is likely to be longer. We decide on a footpath leading southwest past a farm.

This is where we have the disappearing footpath experience though we think it may be due to very poor signposting. We waste a good half hour, then retrace our steps and head off towards Ashton, turning right along the Roade road - yes, I had to write that. We take a footpath opposite a house marked as Colmarel Kennels on the OS map, and follow it without too much trouble. It leads towards the main Milton Keynes to Rugby railway line, and emerges on to the road into Ashton just before the bridge.

under the mainline railway bridge

We walk through Ashton, turning right, going past the Old Crown pub and then taking a footpath to our left between two houses. The path turns right/west very soon, gradually making its way over several fields downhill gently to the canal. We wander a little because of crops, but no real problems in this part.

A disreputable crew?

We meet the canal at Lower Lock Farm, andturn right along the towpath. It's a short mile to Stoke Bruerne past locks, and canal boats.



Under-bridge mosaics,

moorhen and chick

on boat veg garden

growing cygnets

Dry dock

We lunch at The Boat Inn - decent grub, long wait.

The view across the canal

Back via the road to Ashton - it's a pretty quiet one, so not unpleasant.

Wellingtonia and house

tall tree

Then across country again to Hartwell, where we have a rest in the little cemetery and chat to a woman who is clearing the leaves.



From here we walk back along the road to Salcey Forest.

Altogether we've walked just over 11 miles - it's been pretty flat, and quite hot.

DEEP THOUGHTS WITH COLIN HALEY

By: Steve House



http://www.sportiva.com/live/page.php?id=48&at=24



More here:



http://colinhaley.blogspot.com//11/exocet-solo.html

Badby - Hellidon - Charwelton - Fawsley

Led by me. with Barry and Maureen. Quite hilly, good underfoot - one ploughed field but dry. Weather dry and sunny with some wind. 834 feet ascent. Excellent views. 11 miles. Included the highest point in Northamptonshire at 738 feet/225 m. Peak bagged!

One of two ancient chestnut trees in Badby. They are trying to preserve them, but warn you not to park or hang around underneath them.

Leaving Badby by Bunkers Hill.

We crossed the A361 and followed the Gated Road to Catesby. It climbed gradually, and we took the second footpath on the left - a bridleway.

After less than half a mile we could see the motocross track on Arbury Hill to our right, and walked to it across the field. The summit is wide and flat and we're not sure we we found the very highest point.

Ha! I worked out the self timer. Another peak bagged - a molehill with quite a view.

Then it's back to the bridleway, and past the tunnel airshafts. Yet another dismantled railway. We walk past a large house and arrive at the minor road to Hellidon. We turn right then left into a very large ploughed field with little evidence of a path, apart from the signpost. Another smaller and easier ploughed field leads into a grass meadow and we see a small lake close to Hellidon village

There are swans nesting, and the trees show signs of approaching summer at last.

We find our way into the village which is glorious in its spring outfit.

Spring and autumn together?

We stop to chat to a man who's repairing the stonework of his cottage, which dates from the eighteenth century.

A fire insurance plate - if you didn't display this the firefighters would leave your house to burn.

We leave the village at the road junction opposite the Red Lion and make our way up Windmill Hill.

Hellidon from Windmill Hill

We find a place for a break - sheltered from the wind and with lovely views. The sun's shining and all's well with the world.

We follow the Jurassic Way as far as Charwelton. heading south east until we meet the minor road just before it crosses the old railway. We go slightly astray because the field is ploughed, but we're near enough. We pick up the Jurassic Way signs and emerge on the A 361 in Charwelton, just opposite the pack horse bridge.











The footpath crosses a couple of fields from here and takes us to a small road leading to the church. It's open so we have a look round, then take another break on a sunny bench.





We leave the Jurassic Way now and take a path through a gate and to a gap in the hedge on the left side of the field, then across the corner of the next field. We cross the road and follow a footpath up a small hill, and over some open fields full of sheep, and pass Fawsley Farm - (or Fawsley Grange) on our right. We come out on a farm road which joins a minor road at Little Fawsley. This road takes us into Fawsley, with its Hall - seat of the Knightleys, and the church which contains many of their tombs and monuments.

Fawsley Hall - hotel and spa.

Fawsley church

All this - and a box collecting for a food bank too.

We follow the Knightley Way - very well signposted through parkland, pasture and Badby Woods, where wood anemones are in flower and bluebells are beginning to bloom.







All that remains is the walk downhill into Badby - well, there's steep short pull at the end - and then finding the car. Another delightful walk, and fine weather. Not quite fine enough to take layers off yet, though.

Wildlife - a couple of birds I think were wheatears - very noticeable pale/ white rumps as they flew up, quite strong markings on an open meadow.

Wrapping tool shafts?

The reason I wrap my tools almost full shaft (2" shy of the head) is I like to do a lot of high dagger position on easier alpine terrain. And I actually like climbing easier terrain with radically curved tools. I'll run my hand from the upper grip to the head of the tool to avoid as many placements as possible. Just to save strength and climb faster. A good tape job keeps the hands warmer on aluminum when it is really cold out. And I like the rubber texture over bare aluminum or carbon fiber. On steep ice I like to match on the second grip so I wrap there with better tape than Petzl supplies and wrap over the the BD Fusion/Cobra upper grip and higher on the shaft just for consistancy. While you are at it, easy enough to wrap farther up the tool and can't see that it hurts anything besides adding a bit of weight. If for no other reason, it helps me at least feel more secure.

Climbing Shooting Gallery on Andromeda a couple of winters ago in -30 temps and some deep snow was the first time I needed more insulation on the shaft for the high dagger position. Freaking cold tools that bite back and then cold hands through the powder snow to get a good stick. Not on my long list of "fun".

A quick look at several of the pictures in the blog will show a high dagger position (anyone climbing on Nomics) where a wrapped shaft will be warmer.


> What is the name of the tape that you use on your tools? I
> have been using electrical friction tape but I think there is
> something better out there more similar to the tape on the >Nomic.

You can generally buy this stuff at Lowe's, Home Depot or any big hardware store and on line.
There is a link in the comments after the post. Depending on how you wrap your tools one role of tape can do two tools. I use the tape for insulation so I use one roll per tool and throw the extra away. Stuff is fairly cheap....under $10 per roll.

Petzl Nomic tape is a little thin for my taste and not that durable but it is light in weight and sticky enough. I suspect it is the 3M Temflex.

3M Temflex #2155 Rubber splicing Tape

What I like better is similar but thicker, way stickier and offers better insulation.

Scotch brand 2228 Moisture sealing Electrical tape

3M Temflex 2155, "rubber splicing tape" is the same stuff Petzl uses but a lot cheaper in this form. One role will easily do two tools.

The better choice imo is Scotch brand 2228 Moisture sealing electrical tape. One role of 1" x 4" does one tool for me. It is heavier/thicker/way stickier than 3M and has lasted me 4 seasons so far (with no end in sight, on ice and alpine) and is always sticky, wet or dry. I use one role per tool with a tiny bit to spare on a Nomic (1" X 4') . You just need to watch what you lay the tools against 'cuz the stuff is so sticky it will wrap around anything, clothing, your other tool, helmets...you get the idea. Kinda like the climbing version of silly putty.

You don't need to tape the ends on either as it is self sealing and is easy to apply.

Nothing else even close that I have seen. 3M is cheaper and works fine. The thicker Scotch brand stuff is what I use to wrap the tools I climb with.

A reminder on crampon fitting....

Just got in two new pairs of boots as I get ready to go to Canada for 10 days of testing,photos and climbing.



I'll take 5 pairs of boots and 5 different crampons to climb in this trip as I attempt to see where I am at physically and mentally.



As I spend the evening fitting crampons this commentcomes to mind,



"Precision crampon technique is impossible without a proper (perfect) fit of boot to crampon."

Jeff Lowe from the WATERFALL ICE video, 2005.









In other words, if your crampons won't stay on the boots first, without latching the binding, likely the crampon doesn't really fit your boot.






Finally some one gets (again) how it is suppose to be. No tricks just a perfect friction fit.

Petzl Lynx on a Scarpa Phantom Ultra and no back binding.

The 9th Regiment at Shiloh :: The Photo

This is the first of two photographs from the display at the visitor center at Shiloh National Battlefield.

The caption under this picture in the display reads: “Men of the 9th Indiana, a regiment of Hazen's brigade in the Army of the Ohio, in camp before the battle.”

Perhaps, partially due to the size of the photo on display (about 30x36 inches), it is out of focus.

The close-ups below begin from the left hand side of the above photograph. There is some overlap in the close-ups so some men will appear on more than one of the pictures.

Though out of focus, it is interesting to see the different stances and postures of the men. How some of them seem to be paying attention, and others, well not so much.

Freeze / Thaw

This winter I get the distinct feeling that nature is playing games with me. Constantly changing rhythm, it refuses to let me get comfortable, to allow me to settle down into a season-specific "mode" of cycling. With temperatures below 20°F one day and above 45°F the next, I feel as if I am trying to dance while the DJ alternates between the oldies and thrash metal. My movements are awkward and a migraine is just around the corner.






But if that's how nature wants to play it, so be it, and there is always a silver lining to be found. For instance, my familiarity with mud has certainly grown. There are so many different kinds: liquid mud, viscous mud, mud that looks like packed dirt but behaves like quicksand, mud with a thin crust of ice over it, mud of a slushy-like frozen consistency throughout, and mud that has frozen in big solid ripples. I've been trying to ride on mud in all of these different conditions as part of a radical campaign to improve my balance, and thanks to the freeze/thaw weather I can experience a complete mud menu over the course of a single week.




Much less endearing is the unpredictable appearance of ice patches that the changes in weather are causing. The last time I went out on my roadbike, I saw black ice on the country roads that pretty much convinced me it was trainer time despite the lack of snow. Going downhill and hitting a patch like that, I am pretty sure there is nothing I could do to prevent a fall.






With February under way, at least the winter season is more than half over. My ideal conditions for the rest of it would be a couple of beautiful snowfalls (my birthday is later this month and I love snow on my birthday), followed by a swift and complete thaw in the first week of March. Well, I can dream. In the meantime, nature continues the freeze / thaw game and I do my best to keep up. Every winter is different, and I am glad to have a record of this one as I do of the previous two.

International: Round 2

Climbing rangers have second round of joint international training operations!

Last week we had the privilege of hosting a group of climbers from the Korean Mountain Rescue Association here at Rainier. A group of four climbers came over from Seoul, and spent a week with us on the mountain learning about how our climbing program operates within the national park. Their association has over 600 members who climb all over the world and promote climbing throughout Korea. Most of their time here was spent training in advanced rescue techniques with climbing rangers and climbing Mount Rainier. Word on the street is they can cook up some good food, and we think some stories might have even been exchanged, thus leading to a fully successful week.

Thomas Payne, our official liaison with S. Korea, shown here with three of our guests after coming down from the summit on a beautiful sunny day.

Pristine, Pink, Breathless

That's what it was like on the mountain this weekend. I made it to Camp Muir Saturday, my first opportunity in over two months. Finally, time to survey the camp and search for possible storm damage (and test the snow conditions on the Muir Snowfield).

Things looked normal for early December. There was access to the public shelter, but the toilets were drifted in with deep snow. As for obvious signs of rain and wind damage, it seems that only the NPS suffered. We lost two storage boxes. The weather telemetry equipment for the NWAC appears to be working. It's my hope that once the power resumes at Paradise, the weather data will come back up online.

I was a bit surprised that there wasn't more snow cover between 7-11k. Everything looked wind scoured, i.e, lots of exposed rocks along the eastern edge of the Muir Snowfield, Cowlitz Cleaver, Muir Rock, etc. As for the upper mountain, the Nisqually Glacier looked very, very good. And while we're talking, so did the Nisqually Cleaver and Gib Ledges. Plenty of snow and ice in those rocky steep sections

After surveying the camp, it was time to confirm the conditions on the Muir Snowfield. And it was just as I thought it would be: 4,500 feet of untracked packed powder, with a few rocky areas around McClure. As you can see, the mountain turned pink for our descent. Top photo by Ethan McKinley

JUST IN: The Camp Muir and Paradise weather telemetry data are back up. I hope they last! I know that they ran the generator at Paradise today.

Climbing Muscles? Perhaps

When I began to do long hilly rides, I acquired a nemesis: the Mysterious Pain. This pain would get me even when my legs were strong and my energy levels were high. It would get me when least expected, ruining countless rides and limiting my progress.




I have never experienced anything quite like it before. It wasn't so much of a pain even, as an alarming sensation of seizing, not so much in my lower back as below it. If you draw an imaginary horizontal line perpendicular to the top of the butt crack, the sensation was along that line, in two distinct spots on the left and right, symmetrical.




The first time I experienced it in earnest was during a 100 mile overnight ride to Maineearly last summer. It came on around mile 70 and was so debilitating I had to stop on the side of the road and stretch every 10 miles to keep going.




Mystery pains are a source of fascination to cyclists, and I talked about mine with a slew of local riders. At the time the consensus was that I had increased my milage too quickly and hadn't the upper body strength to handle it. So I spent the rest of the summer sticking to sub-100K rides, but doing them with more frequency to build up strength and muscle tone. I am not sure this had any effect. It may have worked subtly, but at the time I felt somewhat stagnant and dispirited. I wanted, very badly, to do longer rides. And I felt strong; my legs would seldom get tired on a bike. But this strange pain/ seizing sensation was like a brick wall I kept hitting:No sooner would I attempt a long ride with lots of climbing, it would return.




This Spring I began riding more than ever. Short rides, long rides, paved rides, dirt rides, club rides, brevets... I thought I was riding a lot before, but now I was practically living on my bike. Disappointingly, the mystery pain was still there - though I'd now learned to manage it with strategically timed stops and stretching. On the 200K brevet, I'd pull over on the side of the road every so many miles so that I could bend over backwards and do some quick twists before continuing. That was all it took to stop the discomfort for the next so many miles, so stopping was better than not stopping: If I did nothing about it and continued riding it would only slow me down.




Having witnessed this riding next to me on the 200K, my friend Pamela suggested that the problem could be insufficiently developed "climbing muscles" - something she herself had experienced at one time. Rather than related to distance, the discomfort could be brought on by long stretches of climbing - which are of course more likely to occur on long distance rides.




There were other suggestions from riding companions at this time: That my gears were too high. That my saddle was too hard. That my position on the bike was too aggressive. And that climbing seated was the real issue.




At that point I decided to take an aggressive approach and try everything. The suggestion that my roadbike position was causing the discomfort worried me, because I otherwise found it so comfortable. But a few strategic rides helped me eliminate that as the cause: I was able to bring about the same pain on more upright bikes (even my Brompton) if I used higher gears when climbing for a prolonged period of time. So gearing had a lot more to do with it than position. I now also knew for certain that the source of the problem wasn't the long distance, but the long, repeated climbs. In Ireland I found that I could bring about the pain within as little as 20 miles, if they were "quality miles" with respect to elevation gain.




In short, the climbing muscles diagnosis seemed the most probable. But how to develop them? I was not willing to go to the gym to work on my "core," and so far just continuing to ride the way I'd been wasn't helping.




Staying in Ireland took care of the problem. Here I did not continue to ride the way I'd been, but, with some guidance, began to do more focused riding - both faster and with more climbing - on a more or less daily basis. I learned how to use gears more efficiently. And I also finally learned how to stand out of the saddleand began practicing that every ride.




One result of all this has been a subtle, but significant transformation to my body within a very short time period. The changes to my legs did not surprise me - after all, that is what we expect from cycling. But I did not expect the changes to my midriff. My abdomen has gone flat and there are these weird thin horizontal muscles wrapping around the sides of my torso, front and back - where the "love handles" used to be,if you will. I have never had muscle definition in this area before, and it all looks and feels absolutely bizarre, as if my body isn't really mine.But existential analyses aside, whatever's happened it has solved the mystery pain problem. No more. It's just gone - regardless of whether I climb standing or seated, in a low gear or high. Just to make sure, this past week I've made it a point to do hilly rides without getting out of the saddle at all, like in the old days (meaning entire months ago). But that seizing sensation below the lower back is now just a memory.




So... climbing muscles. What are they exactly? I imagine some combination of abdominal and lower back muscles. For some they might be naturally well developed. For most they are probably average. And for some, like myself, they could be underdeveloped - requiring lots of work to get up to par. Happily, I love riding and doing this "work." And I love it that this limitation is finally gone.