Why Fixed Gear?

I have been riding fixed gear bicycles for about a year and a half now, and enjoy it so much that it is hard to talk about without getting embarrassed. Here in the Boston area, fixed gear is associated with a distinct cultural attitude and fashion sense, and I do not fit the mold. Seeing me on a bicycle with a fixed drivetrain often seems to surprise people, and I've been told on more than one occasion that I "don't seem like the type." While I suspect this is mostly used as a conversation starter by men, it still succeeds in making me self-conscious. What is it about fixed gear that I like so much and why do I "need" this type of bicycle?

I first tried a fixed gear bike in June . I was staying in Vienna and pining over the nearby velodrome's summer closure, and a friend offered to teach me to ride a track bike so that I could ride around the velodrome building (this seemed very funny at the time - around the velodrome, get it?). I was afraid to try it at first, but as soon as I got on the bike I didn't want to get off it. It felt so natural and intuitive. My friend ended up leaving the bicycle with me for the duration of my stay in Vienna and I rode it in the park after work every chance I got. Cycling slowly due to the lack of brakes, I must have looked like an idiot, but didn't care. I discovered that on fixed gear, my bicycle handling skills somehow improved. I could make tighter turns, cycle through narrow spaces, control my speed better, and just be more in control. It felt as if I suddenly gained a better understanding of how a bicycle worked. The custom Italian track bike made for a now-retired racer felt unexpectedly comfortable, save for the curvature of the handlebars. I could ride this thing for hours with a silly smile on my face. It became clear during those rides that I needed a fixed gear bike of my own once I returned to the US. A friend of a friend sold me a good road frame for fixed gear conversion, and I mailed it to myself in Boston before leaving Vienna.

Waiting for the road frame to arrive (it took over 3 weeks!) I couldn't stop talking about my experience with fixed gear, and just for the heck of it one weekend the Co-Habitant and I converted the Motobecane mixte I then owned to a single speed with a fixed/free flip-flop hub. Doing this was easy and inexpensive. We picked up a budget wheelset, modified the existing crankset, shortened the chain and that was pretty much that. I rode this bicycle around the city and out to the countryside, and it was great fun. But I mostly thought of it as a novelty. On an upright bike, I preferred a freewheel. This bicycle was a great hit around the neighbourhood though, especially when I fitted it with some colourful dressguards. The woman who later bought it planned to use it as a freewheel single speed, but liked the idea of having the fixed option by flipping the wheel.

Finally the vintage road frame I'd bought in Vienna arrived in the mail, and we quickly put it together. You might recognise this as the previous incarnation of theMoser I now ride as a geared roadbike. The tires here look huge, but they are 28mm Panaracer Paselas - the frame had just enough clearance for them if I did not use a rear brake. I rode this bike a lot, and particularly enjoyed it once it began to get cold. There was something about cold and dreary days on a fixed gear that was just magic.But while I loved riding the Moser, it became apparent over time that the frame was not really suitable for fixed gear conversion due to its very low bottom bracket. As my speed on the bike increased I started to get pedal strike when cornering on bumpy or uneven roads, and did not feel that this was safe. Last winter I began to look for another frame, which did not prove to be very easy given my criteria (lugged steel, horizontal dropouts, high bottom bracket, small size,and no toe overlap). I considered getting a frame from Royal H., but could not afford it. I considered the new SimpleOne from Rivendell, but learned that they would not be making one in my size. And that is how I came to be in possession of a Mercian.

By the time I ordered this bicycle from Mercian, I had a good idea of what I wanted in a fixed gear. I did not want a track bike, but a comfortable and somewhat relaxed roadbike that just happened to have afixed gear drivetrain. I wanted to fit it with 28mm-32mm tires for road and occasional trails. I wanted it to have tame handling without feeling sluggish. All of this was done. When I began to ride this bicycle after we put it together, it was just the feeling I wanted. It is comfortable, intuitive, has no toe overlap or pedal strike, and I can ride it for quite a long time without getting tired.

So why fixed gear and what do I like about it so much? If I have to pin it down, there are two distinct elements of this type of bike that I enjoy. First, I simply find it soothing and pleasant. The motions my legs make on a fixed gear feel different - more circular and rhythmical.In that sense it is really not about speed at all, but about being able to ride with smooth and regular pedal strokes and enjoying the state of mind this puts me in. I find this to be very relaxing when I am stressed out. Even just riding in circles around the neighbourhood, the magical sensation of the drivetrain never fails to calm me down and clear my head.

Second, I feel that riding a fixed gear roadbike helps me with technique. My movements feel more elegant and precise, and I can sense that I am developing a more intuitive sense of balance. I play games where I try to keep the bike going at all costs - slowing down to a crawl before a traffic light rather than stop as I wait for it to turn green. I also like to see how fast I can accelerate under different circumstances, and play "sprinting" games until I get out of breath. This is much more interesting to do on a fixed gear than on a freewheel bike, because once you get the drivetrain going it feels as if it "helps" you. All this may sound silly, but somehow I feel that things like this really help. Fixed gear bikes feel playful and very safe, which encourages me to try all this stuff that I would not normally try. Slowly but surely, I can tell that it improves my geared roadcycling skills - including the somewhat "duh" realisation that if I continuously pedal and feather the brakes instead of coasting, then I will feel more in control of my geared roadbike as well.

But all this talk of technique is probably beside the point. When it comes down to it, we do things that we enjoy and fixed gear is for me simply one of those things. I can't imagine not owning a bike like this. I begin to get fixed gear cravings if I don't ride one for more than a week. Luckily, that should not be a problem.

A view

Another nice view from the seating area behind the gift shop

A Year Gone By :: in Review

Well, the year .. is almost history. It's been a great year for me for research, though not so much for blogging. With only 112 posts published, it's been the "worst" year since I started blogging. In fact, this is my first post for December! No excuses, really, but what I've "discovered" is that when I get involved with a project (be it actual research, transcribing documents, or simply standardizing my database) I tend to get really involved - to the point of doing little else until "that project" is completed. I must admit, I have missed the blogging...



January found me traveling westward from Louisiana where I had spent the holidays with extended family. Highlights for the month were a short stop at White Sands National Monument, a meetup with a blog reader who turned out to be a distant cousin, a two-week stay at Lake Havasu City where there was a hot-air balloon festival and where I developed a naming scheme for organizing my digital files.






An Arizona Sunset. January 12th.


February was spent in Salt Lake City where RootsTech was on the agenda. I must admit, I was a little disappointed with the conference but enjoyed seeing old friends again. Of course, there was The Library that was calling my name for the entire month! Among other things while there, I began writing the series on the Hoffman-Huffman family of Ohio and Pennsylvania.



After a few days in Death Valley I made one final stop before heading back to Indiana in March. May came all too quickly along with the NGS Conference in Cincinnati, which was absolutely fantastic. The sessions were (for the most part) outstanding, and being with like-minded friends was priceless.






The Grand Canyon looking north from Desert View. March 15th.


A short sojourn into Kentucky looking for the land of my Bray ancestors, then it was back to Indiana for a few more weeks. In early July I was notified that a seat had opened up in Thomas Jones' class at the Genealogical Research Institute of Pittsburgh - I had been put on the waiting list in February when I was unsuccessful in registering - and was asked if I was still interested in attending. Of course, my response was a definite "Yes!" and I was shortly on my way to G.R.I.P. and what a "trip" it was - one of the most challenging yet exhilarating experiences of my genealogy journey!



I had thought that I might spend a week in Pennsylvania doing on-site research but after a week at G.R.I.P. my brain was fried. Instead, I returned to Indiana for a few weeks to assimilate what I had learned and to prepare a bit more to research those Pennsylvania Ancestors.



In August I spent about 10 days in Huntsville, Alabama helping a cousin who was recovering from surgery. While there, plans were made with another cousin for spending a few weeks in Maine. A couple days of research in Pennsylvania on the way there, a few more days afterward, a visit with my aunt and cousin in Maryland, then a few more days in Pennsylvania and I made it back to Indiana just in time for the Midwest Geneabloggers .. Fall Meetup (link to Tina Lyons' post) on October 13th.






Northern Maine. September 25th.


Since then I've been looking for more Hoffman and Switzer and Rupert descendants, and found quite a few of them too! But most of the last month has been spent on "cleaning up" and standardizing my genealogy database in preparation for uploading it to ancestry.com or some other online tree site. It's been somewhat tedious and very time consuming. Sources still require a great deal of work and I'm beginning to think that this "clean-up" work could go on for ever!



It has been an interesting and rather satisfying year. A mixture of travel and research and a little of both combined. What could be better?

Still climbable...

Well Laura and I tried to climb yesterday, but unfortunately the rain and warm weather took its toll on the area. We got skunked on our attempt. Dr. Bob and Chip were also optimistic. My phone rang as we rolled into the lot. It was Bob wishing happy new years and telling me he and Chip thought they'd at least drive out to try to climb. Well Laura and I went to take a look here's what we found...

Still there, the rebuild should be fast

Well Dr. Bob and Chip were more optimistic than us. We left and they took a walk down to check things out up close. As per their description "Deep muck led to the ice". They made the (wise) decision not to climb. That was yesterday...Today... 1/3/

Laura and I decided to take advantage of what the warm weather had done (opened up some winter roads). We decided to drive to Krahlick to see how the ice weathered through the storm. I had hiked in several weeks ago to check it out. Its not the same angle, but it gives you an idea. It's still reasonably good.

Krahlick 12/21/

Krahlick 1/3/

Laura had never been to this location, so it was nice to get her there. Its not that big, roughly 40' tall. Several routes put up by Ray Burnsworth back in the late '80's currently exist. The largest center piece is Wilderness Bound WI4 and the shorter tiered section to the right is Wilderness Found WI3+. There's potentially a nice mixed line that follows the smear on the left of W.B. and pulls through the rock roof and finishes on the short face above. I tried the route in 2000 but didn't have much luck at the time as it was late in the season. It wasn't until this year that I returned to check it out again. This time I found a nicer smear to gain access to the roof. I put a TR on it again today to try to suss the moves and see if it would take gear. After 2 tries on the route and no pre inspection. I was climbing very slow and static the first time and ended up popping out of a flared crack at the lip of the roof. The second go I moved much quicker and more dynamic making the larger ledge above the roof, but ended up having my dull pick pop during the mantle. I was optimistic that I'd found a good "gear" route, but upon some inspection I found the rock to be loose and blocky. I could climb it on gear and make it a dangerous route that nobody will ever try or add a bolt or 2 and make it a much safer line that others will enjoy as well. Bummer there's only bad gear, but its like most of the other routes in the area. Short, chossy, and FUN! Here's a few shots of me on the route.

Going from ice to rock

Moving through the roof...



Should be a good route in the near future.... Keep posted!

The Body Speaks Bike

Those who've spoken more than one language over the course of their life will sometimes notice a curious phenomenon: They will remember events and conversations from their past not in the original language, but in the language that is currently dominant for them. It is as if our mind auto-translates the dialogue. I will remember conversations in English that couldn't have possibly happened in English. And then I must struggle to reconstruct the real dialogue, the actual words used, in order for my mind let go of the auto-translate and restore the "correct" memory. It's just one of those weird, fascinating, disturbing things that the human brain does. And it isn't limited to language.




Last weekend I went berry picking at a nearby farm. Blackberries are in season now, and with a small green basket I headed out to the rows of bushes. Pulling the plump bubbly things off the prickly branches in the afternoon sun, I remembered the last time I'd done this: It was in my 20s and I lived in England. Our small university town was surrounded by miles and miles of meadows, a riverside path winding through them. I remembered in vivid detail cycling through the meadows in the exquisite afternoon light and stopping to pick blackberries along the way. Sometimes I'd be alone, other times with my friend. In summer the blackberries were everywhere and, excited by this discovery, we gorged on them shamelessly - staining our clothing in the process, drunk on the countryside smells and the sheer beauty of our surroundings. In my mind's eye Iseeit all so clearly: The river. The farm gates. Climbing over nettles to get to the berries. And, of course, riding my bike along the path. Except, wait... rewind. I could not have been on a bike. I did not own a bike at the time; I did not cycle when I lived in England.




And so there I stood now, dismantling this incredibly real-seeming memory of myself riding a rusty 3-speed through the East Anglia countryside. And its companion memory of riding together with my friend - both of us astride such machines, summer dresses fluttering in the breeze. In fact we did not cycle side by side. We did not dismount our bikes and toss them onto the grass upon spotting the berries. I suppose we must have walked. But the visceral recollection of walking is vague, buried somewhere in there like the true dialogue of those auto-translated conversations I struggle to remember in their original language. I guess my body speaks bike now.

Southwest Rock Art

Along the first leg of our journey back to Minnesota we made a couple of short side trips from I-70 to some rock art sites. The first of these was the "Head of Sinbad" rock art site. This is some of the best preserved rock art in the southwest. According to local literature these pictographs are at least 3,000 years old.



































































The second site we checked out was Sego Canyon. Unlike the Head of Sinbad panel, some of the Sego Canyon pictographs have experienced a lot of vandalism. There was one panel, however, that was high enough on the canyon wall that it was relatively untouched by vandals. According to the BLM, Sego Canyon contains 3 culturally distinct styles of rock art: Fremont, Ute and Barrier-style. After these quick stops we got back on the Interstate and continued our journey home.

Blue in the Garden

Sunny

Sunny is our oldest horse. We think he is around 25 years. He would eat us out of house and home if we would let him. He thinks we should feed him 24 hours a day. And grumbles when we don't and when we do. We feed him what the vet says to feed him. He has a big belly but his backbone shows. Vet says we need to re-arrange his body. Says he needs more excersise to do that. But I find it hard to excersise me or the horses when it is as hot as it has been this summer. But we are going to start trying to do more. In the mean time Sunny thinks his retirement is going great. he is a sweet old horse, who loves to be petted, groomed and bathed. I bet he was one heck of a horse when he was young. I don't know anything about who had him or what his life was like then. He and my QH mare, Nita, are best friends.

Bicycles, Walls and the Passage of Time

Over the holidays I received a DVD of a film diptych that I'd long wanted to watch: Cycling the Frame and The Invisible Frame, directed by Cynthia Beatt.



In 1988, Beatt made the short filmCycling the Frame. Described as a "cine-poem," this 30 minute documentary follows a young British actress (Tilda Swinton) as she cycles along the perimeter of the Berlin Wall in what was then West Berlin. It is a 100 mile journey along mostly abandoned roads and overgrown dirt paths crossing forests and fields. The ever-present wall, with its menacing guard towers, turns the landscape surreal: It severs railroad tracks, creates paths to nowhere, and separates waterfront properties from the bodies of water they front. As Swinton pedals, she vocalises her stream-of-conscience thoughts about the things she sees and how they make her feel. As she grows tired of cycling and overwhelmed with her surroundings, the film begins to resemble a dream sequence. Finally she arrives to her Brandenburg Gate start and concludes that "this place is mad."



More than two decades after the original journey, the director and actress set out again to film the follow up, The Invisible Frame. In , they retrace their route along the now long-absent Berlin Wall. A visibly more mature, sharper dressed Tilda Swinton cycles the perimeter, this time weaving back and forth across the phantom border. There are signs of life now: The roads have bike lanes and motorised traffic. On some of the dirt paths we see joggers, dog walkers, children and other cyclists. But despite an apparent return to normality along these stretches, the majority of the landscape is no less eerie twenty years after the wall's removal. We see abandoned buildings, barren fields, dingy looking lakes, random bits of strangeness. It's as if scarred, dead space remains left where the separation used to be. Disconcerted, Swinton meditates on this as she pedals, concluding that "when one wall comes down others come up."



While these aren't cycling films exactly, the prominent role of the bicycle is impossible to ignore. From a practical standpoint, a bike was necessary to make the films happen. Much of the route along the real/ phantom Wall is not accessible to cars, and traveling 100 miles on foot would not have worked with the scope of the project. The speed of the bicycle matched the speed with which the narrative needed to flow, and even the camera crew traveled via a cargo recumbent. As each film progresses, the bicycle begins to seem increasingly important, merging with Swinton's visceral sense of self. She starts to mention it in her stream-of-conscience utterings, to talk about space in relation to not just her, but to her and the bike, to confuse herself with the bike. While this contributes to the mystical feel of the films, it will also be recognised by cyclists as a completely normal sensation to have during long rides.



It was interesting also that the bicycle seemed well-matched to Swinton's person in each of the films. In the original, the actress's flowing clothing looks worn and a little disheveled; her hair natural and slightly unkempt. The bike she rides is a rickety swoopy mixte with faded paint. In the newer film, Swinton is dressed in a stylized and sophisticated manner. She wears architectural-looking clothing and shoes. There are sharp angles to her haircut, her hair now a platinum blond. The bicycle she rides is angular and modern, its paint metallic. This transformation in personal style and bike echoes the rift I felt between the earlier and the latter films. Cycling the Framecame across as spontaneous and exploratory, whereas The Invisible Frameseemed stiffer and more choreographed. The actress/cyclist is no longer the same person and does not relate to this landscape in the same way. She talks about openness, but speaks in political and philosophical generalities and is seemingly less present in Berlin itself.



Can we ever recreate an experience, or re-visit a place? And can we ever really understand another country, as we tour it on a bike with a foreigner's benign detachment and predatory curiosity? These are the questions these films, with their collective 200 miles of cycling along a real/ unreal wall perimeter, ultimately seem to be asking.



If you are local and would like to borrow my copy, drop me a line. The Invisible Framecan be viewed on netflix, but the original Cycling the Frame was not available online last time I checked.

Assateague Island :: Adieu

It was with some degree of sadness that I bid farewell to Assateague on Saturday morning (October 24th). It had been so peaceful and quiet the previous four days but when Friday evening arrived so did more people. The campground loop where I was staying, which had been nearly vacant, was now filled with weekend visitors. The spell was broken, it was time to go. Besides, rain was in the forecast for the next few days!

The golden glow of the sunset over the marsh. My last night at Assateague.

Not as colorful as the morning's sunrise had been, but quite lovely. Indeed.

Yellow Lillies

Some photos of the yellow lillies that I grew on my sunroom this spring. These have grown from their bulbs, and bloomed and gone, but the orange ones have barely started to grow. Wonder what the difference was since I bought at the same store, same brand and planted at the same time? Well at least these were pretty.

Gunks Routes: Te Dum (5.7)

(Photo: the opening moves on Te Dum)



It was still winter, technically, when I got my first Gunks opportunity of . But spring seemed to be in the air.The temperature had suddenly spiked up into the sixties. The internet hummed with reports of great early-season climbing.



I couldn't wait to get out there.



I was feeling pretty good. I was perhaps in better physical shape than ever before, and I'd been climbing well in the gym.



But it got colder as the the weekend began, and by the time my climbing day, Sunday,dawned, it felt like winter all over again. As I drove up to New Paltz with A and M, I watched as thethermometer on my dashboardreported the dropping temperature outside: 32, 31, 30...



It bottomed out at 28 degrees just before we hit Exit 18.



Whatever, I wasn't worried. The high was projected to be around 48 and I figured with the sun shining on the cliffs it would feel warm enough once we got into it. I suggested to my friends that we head to the Nears, where the classics are piled deep, one after another, at the northern end of the cliff, closest to the road. I was thinking of a couple good warm-ups for us. One was Alphonse, a 5.8 climb that'sreally a 5.6 for all but one move. Another was Te Dum, a 5.7 that I remembered as having only one 5.7 move on it:an exposed but easycrux step around a corner about two-thirds of the way to the top. I was eager to get started and I volunteered for the lead.



As we walked to the start of Te Dum we passed Broken Sling, a notorious 5.8 with a bouldery start and a poorly-protected thin traverse above. Like Pavlov's dog I started salivating at the thought of getting on that one. Then beneath our chosen climb I stared straight up at the crux downward-facing off-width that finishes the first pitch of Inverted Layback (5.9). Boy, I'd like to do that one soon, I thought. But first I have to knock off this easy 5.7.



We racked up and I headed skyward.



The climb starts just left of the back of an open book, at a wide vertical crack system that passes two ledges on the way to a third. At the third ledge, where the vertical crack system widens,you traverse to the right wall of the open book and head up past a few flakes to the crux move around a second corner. Once you make the thin move around the crux corner a few jugs usher you up to a small ledge where a tree used to have slings around it, forming an optional belay station. This tree has lost its largest branch and these days hardly seems suitable for belay duties; in any event the rest of the climb is 5.4 and short. A rising traverse takes you out from under the roof over your head and then it's a couple moves to the top. Best to do the whole thing in one pitch.



As I started the climb, worming up to the first little ledge, I realized Iwas actually feeling very rusty after our long, snowy winter. I wasn't used to real rock anymore, and neither my fingers nor my toes felt secure on the stone. Even though the sun was shining directly on the rock, it still felt cold to the touch, and it may have been irrational but I didn't feel confident that my grip on the holds was solid.



At the second little ledge, I found myself standing to the left of the vertical crack and couldn't figure out how tostep up. I had two pieces right there-- in fact, I'd placed four pieces of pro in about 10 feet-- but I confess I was starting to panic. I couldn't commit to the move. My fingers were feeling numb. I told myself this was just season-opening jitters and to go ahead and step up, but when (after what seemed an eternity)I finally did so I immediately slipped off the foothold and down to the ledge on the right side of the vertical crack, where I should have been standing in the first place. Now that I was standing two feet to the right of where I'd been standing amoment before, the move was obvious-- I'd fallen into the proper position. The rest of the climb went smoothly. The rock even started to warm up and by the time I got to the cruxI cruised through it, as I'd expected I would.



My verdict on Te Dum two years later: despite my jittery beginning, it's still, to my mind, an easy 5.7. The opening bit, up to where you move right, is a simple matter for anyone who isn't climbing (like me) with blinders on. Then a very easy and well-protected traverse (use the crack at the back of the open book for pro) leads to a couple nice moves up to the crux. One deep breath and a committing step will take you around the second corner to jugs and the optional belay. Then it's an exposed, 5.4 romp to the trees. A nice pitch, with more climbing on it than I remembered.



So much for starting the year feeling strong. I'd secretly hoped the Gunks 5.8s would feel ridiculously easy as the year began, but that's just not how it works, is it? You have to pay your dues year after year, make a few mistakes, get yourself a little scared, ask yourself why you're even contemplating this stupid sport. And then it all becomes fun again.



The rest of my day went much better. After myshaky performance on Te Dum I handed the lead over to A for Disneyland (5.6) and Alphonse (5.8), and these climbs did a lot to shake the slipperyfeeling off my fingers and toes. Then I took the lead for the first pitch of Yellow Ridge (5.7), which I'd never been on before, and felt absolutely fine about it. And then we hit Farewell to Arms (5.8), which A led and which I thought packed a ton of climbing intothe shortfirst pitch. This was not an easy 5.8, but I'll write more about that and our other climbs of the day in another post.



We ended our day with a rope up on To Be Or Not To Be (5.12), which none of the three of us could even begin to conquer. As we flailed away at it I couldn't take my eyes off of Birdland, just to the right, another 5.8 that has somehow eluded me these past couple years. I prefer roof climbs to face climbs, and Birdland is definitely in the face climb category, at least for its first pitch. But for some reason it just calls to me, and I'm going to jump on that sucker soon. Something about it just looks so appealing, and knocking it off my list early this year just seems like something I have to do. Assuming my jitters really are shaken off.

Dad and the 511th

On February 19th 1943, just 3 weeks after his 19th birthday, Jack William Wiseman was inducted into the U. S. Army. A week later he entered active service at Toledo, Ohio.

At about that same time the 511th Parachute Infantry Regiment was activated at Camp Toccoa, Georgia. A processing system was set up for screening the volunteers for Parachute duty from all over the country. Every man was interviewed and had to meet the Regiment’s high standards prior to his acceptance. Only 35% of the volunteers met those requirements. Since most of the men had come to the Regiment straight from induction, their entire training, from Basic on up, was of Airborne design. The Regiment was sent to Camp Mackall, North Carolina for 17 weeks of Basic training. Following that training, the 511th journeyed to Fort Benning, Georgia for three weeks jump training. Following Parachute School the Regiment returned to Camp Mackall for Advanced Training.

Apparently, within the upper echelons of the War Department, there was some concern about the effectiveness of and need for large Airborne units. A special test maneuver was ordered for the 11th Airborne Division and it took place for five days during the first week of December 1943. This included a nighttime parachute, glider, infantry, and artillery demonstration. The objective of the division was to capture the Knollwood Airport in North Carolina; thereafter, this exercise became known as the Knollwood Maneuvers. The success of these Maneuvers was very instrumental in the continued use of Airborne troops during the remainder of World War II.

Early in January of 1944, the Division went to Camp Polk, Louisiana, and engaged in additional maneuvers. In April, they traveled by train to Camp Stoneman, California. On May 8, 1944, the 511th departed on the SS Sea Pike with about 2,000 troopers that had been disguised as a "Straight Leg" infantry unit. The ship had been built by the Western Pipe and Steel Corp. and launched in February 1943. It was 492 feet long, with a beam of 70 feet. She drew 29 feet of water and her steam engines pushed her at 17 knots. On May 28, 1944 the Regiment arrived at Oro Bay, New Guinea.

Through October, the 511th was in strategic reserve in New Guinea. During this time they conducted airborne, jungle and amphibious training. On Nov. 7, 1944 the Regiment departed New Guinea on the USS Cavalier for the Philippines. His separation papers show that Dad was involved in campaigns in New Guinea, the South Philippines Liberation, and Luzon. The History of the 511th Parachute Infantry Regiment (link at bottom) provides details of the battles in which the 511th Regiment participated. Not all companies participated in all of those battles. His record shows that Dad was wounded in action on February 8, 1945 at Luzon. It was not a serious wound however.

In May 1945, the division moved into a rest and training camp near Lipa, Luzon where preparations began in earnest for the invasion of Japan. However, on August 6, 1945, the nuclear weapon "Little Boy" was dropped on the city of Hiroshima, followed by the detonation of the "Fat Man" nuclear bomb over Nagasaki on August 9th.

Two days later, the Regiment departed Luzon and was flown to Okinawa. On August 30th the 511th arrived at Atsugi Air Base near Yokohama to occupy the city and guard the docks from which the peace delegation left for the signing of the Armistice. On September 2, 1945 the Japanese formally surrendered during ceremonies onboard the battleship USS Missouri which was docked in Tokyo Bay on the island of Honshu. Two weeks later, the 511th moved to Morioka, Japan to begin the occupation of Iwate and Aomori Prefectures in Northern Honshu. Although some of the troops of the 511th remained in Japan, Dad returned to the states in December 1945 and was separated from service on January 26, 1946 at Camp Atterbury, Indiana having served 2 years 11 months and 3 days, a little more than half of that time had been foreign service.

My Dad never talked about his military service to us kids, even after we were adults. There was only one time, when I was still in high school, that he brought out his box of memorabilia. There wasn't much. A few medals, a couple of pictures, some currency that we called funny money (15 bills of varying denominations), and a small flag. It was a Japanese flag that he had picked up after a battle; it had some dark stains on it that he said was the blood of the "Jap" that he had taken it off of. After he had shown that to us he immediately put everything away again. I don't know what happened to the little flag, but I now have his medals, pictures (unidentified, of course) and papers. I do remember, when we were little, for several summers we went to the Goshen Air Show. We'd meet up with some of his "buddies" and their families. Dad also had two rifles from the war. Mom said that after a particularly rough time, he threatened to commit suicide and she made him get rid of the guns. It was at about that time that we quit going to the air shows.

In May 1977, I was transferred to the Naval Air Station at Yokusuka, Japan. I knew Dad had been in Japan and asked him about it but he still wouldn't talk about his time in the service. It wasn't until after he passed away that I found out the details, from his separation papers and some magazine articles. In 1993, he had joined the 511th Parachute Infantry Association and amongst his papers were eight issues of "Winds Aloft" which is their quarterly publication. It has some very interesting and informative articles, some written by men that were in his company. After having read some of those articles, I think I now know why he didn't want to speak of his experiences.


These pictures have seen better days. My Dad is the young man on the left in the first picture. None of his pictures are captioned so I don't know where or when they were taken.

Currency issued by the Japanese Government while they occupied the Philipines during the war. The Filipinos called it "Mickey Mouse" money due to the fact that it was similar to play money and next to worthless.


The 511th Parachute Infantry Regiment was part of the 11th Airborne Division. Decorations and Citations that Dad received included: American Theater, Asiatic-Pacific with 3 Bronze Stars, Philippine Liberation with 1 Bronze Star, Good Conduct, Purple Heart, Meritorious Unit Award, Bronze Arrowhead, and Victory Medal.



The History of the 511th Parachute Infantry Regiment by Leo F. Kocher
The Knollwood Manuevers
The battle for Luzon
The Atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki on Wikipedia
Formal Surrender of Japan onboard the battleship USS Missouri
WWII Pictures of Manila on the Island of Luzon
Philippine Pesos issued by the Japanese Government

Wordless Wednesday :: Schooldaze ~ Fifth Grade

Of all my school pictures, this is my favorite!

Floating Orb from Space

Is this another unidentified flying object?

Sunset at Cobscook Bay

Wednesday, September 19th - - A stormy day sometimes brings a beautiful sunset. After driving around looking for a 'better' spot to view the setting of the sun, and not finding one, I returned to my campsite just in time...





Sometimes I am, quite simply, amazed by the beauty of Mother Nature. The south-eastern sky was filled with a soft, muted pink...






While the western sky was ablaze with fiery streaks of orange.





It was a beautiful sight! Yes indeed.

Flycatcher

I got this shot of a flycatcher sitting on the same plant stand to catch the cool air as the mockingbirds I told about in the previous post.

Fury

In the late 1950's there was a TV show about a little boy and his big black horse called Fury. I saw a model of him and of course wanted it. Both my sister and I got one for Christmas that year. This is mine.

Cascade River Aurora

Northern Lights over the Cascade River where it crosses The Grade near Grand Marais, MN. Last night my friend Roger and I were out looking for the Northern Lights and were disappointed by the heavy cloud cover and rainfall that dominated the early part of the evening. Eventually, though, the clouds parted and treated us to some incredible Aurora viewing. A couple of days ago there were a couple of Coronal Mass Ejections that left the sun and were headed straight at Earth. At first spaceweather.com was saying when the CME's hit our atmosphere they did NOT trigger any geomagnetic storms. After the initial impact, however, the arrival of the CME's compressed Earth's magnetic field and lit up Auroras around both poles.