Big Lagoon State Park

Located 10 miles southwest of Pensacola, Big Lagoon State Park is named for the lagoon bordering a portion of the northern shore of Perdido Key. Compared to some Florida state parks, Big Lagoon is on the small side but it has several nice trails and admittance to it also gives you access to two other state parks in the area. I loved the campground. Most sites were large enough to accommodate a bus-size RV and there was some degree of privacy with shrubs and trees separating most sites.

My first day there (Wednesday, February 3rd) was beautiful, until late afternoon when the clouds rolled in. It rained that night and for most of the next two days. My neighbors lost the rain-fly of their tent one night, blown off by the wind. They and everything in the tent got soaked. They were not happy campers ;-)

The campsite. The Picnic table and fire ring are hidden behind the van.

Taken on the first day at the park.

The lagoon and marsh area. Also taken on the first day.

Towards sunset on Friday the sky started to clear and I was hopeful that there would be some sunshine the next day, but it was not to be. It remained cloudy and overcast for two more days.

It was still rather cloudy at 5 o'clock on Friday.

But by 5:25 most of the clouds had been blown away by the wind.

The Paradox of Long Rides

Since describing my overnight ride to Maine last week, I've received an unexpected amount of correspondence from readers who feel drawn to long bike rides, but aren't sure they can handle them physically. The only other time I've had such a volume of email, was after my 100 mile ride along the Danube last Autumn - a similar theme. There is considerable interest out there in long distance cycling among those who love bikes but are not necessarily athletic.




Here is an excerpt from an email from Barbara that sums up the sentiment nicely:




"...[I am] not a strong cyclist, but I just loved your description of riding to Maine in the moonlight. I want to do a ride like this so much, it makes me want to cry! Can the weaklings among us experience a similar journey, or am I a hopeless romantic?"




This resonated with me, because it pretty much expresses my own point of view. I love the idea of covering long distances by bicycle, of experiencing beauty and adventure along the way,of bonding with companions as our wheels hum and our headlights illuminate the road. In my imagination, I do not envision this as an athletic activity or an endurance event. Ideally, it would be just a very long bike ride.




And therein lies the paradox: Yes, it is possible to experience long distance cycling from this perspective. But in order to do so, we have to get to the point where we are strong enough, so that a 100+ mile ride feels like a fun adventure and not like a physical feat we've just barely managed to survive. And this, in turn, means working up to it and getting in shape for it.




How is this different from just riding? I suspect there is more than one answer. But the way I interpret it, the crucial difference is that the rides are more structured - with the goal of building up miles, speed, and time in the saddle. Prior to last summer, I never followed any kind of structure, hoping that my endurance and handling skills would just build up organically, inspired by the joy of riding alone. I am sorry to say that this did not happen. Only when I started taking part in club rides,met experienced riding partners,and adapted a more focused approach, did I undergo significant improvements. The structure and discipline changed my body, ultimately giving me more freedom. This may not be the path for everyone, but I am being honest about what it's been like for me.




While the readers who contacted me about long distance riding did so seeking some form of insight, it was in fact I who ended up gaining insight from them; insofar that they helped me recognise this contradiction. I am sometimes asked what my goal in roadcycling is. And I think that my goal, if any, is to get to the point where riding long distance is entirely about the journey and the scenery, not about overcoming physical limitations. But I am willing to work on overcoming those limitations in order to get to that point.

Life in Longmire

It certainly is snowy here at Longmire. Check out the image of my government issue house. It's almost a snowcave, and those are some serious icicles too. Don't mess with them.

Life is pretty mellow up at Mt. Rainier during the winter. It's great getting out out of Seattle a few days a week to come here. The routine so far has been: hang out in the office (i.e. scheme ways to improve the blog and seek grants for an artist in residence program), go out skiing with climbing ranger Chris Olson (i.e. risk my life following a great skier through steep treed terrain), then hang out at Mike's house (who could be a smashing restaurateur: grilled chops and salmon, mojitos, and lemon drops). Rough life, I know.

Since Chris is pretty much a professional skier and will turn his boards down anything in any conditions, hanging out with him has been an adventure so far. During our first day out a few weeks ago (when the sun last revealed itself), we skied bulletproof ice from Panorama Point to Paradise. The saving grace was crystal clear skies, letting us see almost every big peak in Washington and Oregon. (Right: Chris at Panorama Point).

Once, we skied partway up the Eagle Peak trail then came down in the dark through the trees. It was like being on a roller coaster where you couldn't see the next twist or turn until you came right up on it. Or, as Chris put it in his ski report, it "felt like a bobsled run in the dark." Of course, he wrote that after skiing the trail by himself and blazing down it at about 50 mph. Anyway, we skied it the next day together and came down at a more leisurely pace but it still felt fast to me!

The ski up through the old growth forest was beautiful, with fluffy snow everywhere. Piled in soft pillows all around us, hanging from the trees, falling from the sky. I felt like I was living in a Christmas carol. (Left: Chris leads the way up the "bobsled run")

I was also thinking what a great trail this was for snowshoers, when Chris pointed out how easy it would be to get lost if you didn't know exactly where the trail was. (He was amazed that the trail was still visible through all the recent snow). I realized that he was right and suddenly got a little less complacent about it - especially when he reminded me that a hiker died on this trail last June.

Then again, if anyone knows his way around here, it's probably Chris. The problem is, if you follow him up something, you also have to follow him down.

All Legs

Well, I finally watched the Triplets of Belleville. For those who have not seen it, this is a French animated film about cycling, music hall singers and sinister men in black - surreal and somewhat disturbing (in a good way). No subtitles required even if you do not understand French.



There are many fascinating details in this film, but I don't want to spoil it for those who haven't watched it. Instead I just want to note one hilarious element: the caricatured cyclist's body.



Ah, the gaunt, emaciated cyclist. Sunken eyes, protruding cheekbones. Head bobbing up and down as if the straining tendons of the neck can barely support it. Hunched back and shoulders. Spaghetti arms. Non-existent waist, narrow hips...And then, suddenly - bang! An explosion of thigh muscle, bulge upon bulge, tapering at the knees before exploding again into freakishly well defined calves. I have seen such exaggerated renderings before, but none as expressively done as in this film. The half-soulful, half-dead look on Champion's face completes the archetype.



I have now met a few real-life cyclists with similar body types. They disguise it surprisingly well when wearing regular clothing, but once in lycra the leg explosion is revealed.Seeing such marvelously distorted proportions in person,I try not to stare. But it's kind of awesome, and awe-inspiring. Gives "all legs" a new meaning.



PS: You can tell it's winter, because I'm falling prey tocycling movies. Any recommendations besides the usual suspects? For now, I'll just have to live with "Belleville Rendez-Vous" stuck in my head...

Foggy Sunrise in the Pigeon River Valley

Can you say.... W O W !!!!!!!!!! ? This was the scene I witnessedMonday morning after spending the entire night photographing the northern lights. I had noticed the fog along the river earlier in the night and decided to come back to this location for sunrise. It proved to be a worthwhile decision. As the sun rose over the hills and the light hit the fog in the valley, the colors and layers between fog and trees were breathtaking. This was photographed from the Pigeon River Helipad and Overlook along Otter Lake Road in Northeast Minnesota.

Zinnas

These zinnas seem to be the color of the sunsets we have been having.

Mountain Bikes... Approaching the Beast

Of all the lakes in the vicinity, I had to fall in love with the one on top of a mountain, accessible only via a steep rough gravel road. I have been up there in a car with friends a few times now. But what I really want is to be able to go on my own - ideally without motorised help. My tentative plan was to ride up the paved part of the mountain on my roadbike, then hike the remaining 2 miles up the gravel lake road - either leaving my bike hidden in the woods below or dragging it along.




"Or..." said my friend Keith, "I can lend you my mountain bike, and you can ride all the way up through the woods."




Quickly I began to mutter something about it being too much trouble, but Keith saw right through that and laughed."No it's not, we ride the same size bike. Lower the saddle and off you go."




Damn. Quick, say something to make this sound like a bad idea, I thought. But I could come up with nothing, other than the truth - that I feared the mountain bike. That I would rather sit through a root canal than have to ride one 6 miles up a winding forest path with 1,500 feet of climbing, and then - gulp! - back down.








But I said none of these things. And two days later I found this propped against the side of the house when I came home.




So... Oh my God, I don't know where to start. Beefy aluminum frame, suspension fork, 2" knobby tires, narrow straight handlebars, disc brakes, and a drivetrain with a triple crankset and thumb shifters. The bike is a Carrera Kraken- an inhouse brand of the UK department store Halfords. However, this is not a "department store bike," as the concept is known in the US. According to locals in the know, Halfords actually sells very decent quality budget road and mountain bikes. Keith's bike is a good few years old and everything is a little rusty - though it all works fine.







The bike is a Small (16" frame with a 56mm virtual top tube) and the fit feels pretty good to me. I wouldn't mind it if the handlebars were a tad lower, but what do I know about mountain bike sizing (how upright are you supposed to be?).



What took the most getting used to was the super-high bottom bracket.I kept playing around with the saddle height and it took me a while to set it properly; I couldn't believe how high I had to make it in order to get good leg extension. Being on the bike felt a little strange at first as well - so high off the ground! The disc brakes are insanely grippy, especially the front, but modulating them became intuitive with some practice.Slowly, the fear began to turn to curiosity.





I spent an easy afternoon with the bike, just trying to get to know it and get comfortable with the idea of riding it. There is a back road with some steep pitches just outside my door, as well as woodsy stretches of dirt, gravel and grass I could try. Skeptical that on a bike this beastly-looking I could handle the long steep climb up to the lake, one thing I wanted to do was see how it went uphill. As it turned out, not bad - even on pavement, with those knobby tires. The gearing is low enough to climb a fairly steep pitch seated, so I don't have to worry about stalling out. Standing up on the pedals feels different than on a roadbike - like I have to heave myself forward more forcefully to get my butt off the saddle - but once I got used to it, it was fine. And descending felt much, much nicer and less scary than I anticipated - the bike has an easy, tame feel to it when going around bends.



So... I think I am ready to try riding this thing to the lake and back. The path through the woods is winding dirt for the first part (with roots and things, but nothing too bad), then loose rough chunky gravel for the final stretch. There is nothing technical there, so if I can take 6 miles of straight climbing on a mountain bike and then not get scared and do anything stupid on the descent, I should be fine. And look: I will be using this bike for transportation to the lake, not for "mountain biking" as such, so please don't think this is the beginning of an interest in mountain bikes. I mean, that would be crazy.