Teakettle Rock

This is Teakettle Rock. It even has a sign to tell you it is but someone who visited here took the time to shoot a hole in the 'O' of Rock. It is a huge, ancient rock that looks sort of like a teakettle. It has an arch way on top for the handle. It sit is a little valley way, way, way back in the way back of the Jemez Mountains which are part of the Santa Fe National Forest. It is my opinion that the Jemez Mountains were once a volcano that has been extent for thousands of years. This has allowed all the trees, scrubs, grass and flowers to grow and let wildlife and people evade the area. But when that volcano was active it spit out tons and tons of rock, lava, and volcanic ash out on what would become this beautiful forest some day. When it spit those tons of rock there was this one spit out in the middle of an open area that just happened to look like a teakettle to someone that would find it thousands of years later. I have heard it said by some that it looks more like a huge ostrich pecking at something. The handle of the 'teakettle' being the 'neck' of the bird.

Davis Mountains Sunset

As stated in the previous post, the CCC built a nice road to the top of the peak on the southeast side of the campground. This made it quite convenient for watching the sun rise and set, as well as just general good views of the countryside. I did make it up there one morning but usually, when evening came around, that's where you could find me, along with half a dozen other people. These photographs were all taken on March 7th when Mother Nature put on a very impressive show!

Looking to the east, the hills bathed in the warm glow of the waning sun.

It had been cloudy all day long (the big pooffy type of clouds) and this monstrous cloud hovered over the distant mountains just as the sun was setting.

The wonders of a 7x zoom lens and Mother Nature. Quite a combination!

Generally, by the time the sun falls below the horizon, most of the other people have left the top of the hill. But they often miss out on the best part of the show. The light gets softer, the colors more delicate.

And if you look to either side of where the sun has set, you will often see a magnificent color show.

And this is when I get frustrated with the auto focus of my digital camera – it can't focus if it doesn't have light – and I wish (very briefly) for my old 35mm manual focus camera!

The Clipless Ambush: a Tale of Failure

Well, my first encounter with clipless pedals occurred sooner than I anticipated. Last week the Co-Habitant decided to update his pedals, and the new set arrived in the mail today... which meant that he could gift me his old ones. I thought that surely this gifting would take place some time in the future - a distant, abstract future. But no. Cheerfully he attached them to one of our vintage roadbikes right then and there, so that I could give them a try. Don't get me wrong, I myself had expressed interest in this. But... I don't know, I just didn't expect it to happen immediately!



I already owned a pair of compatible shoes, having bought them on clearance last summer "just in case." With apprehension I watched him attach the cleats to the soles, trying to gauge the correct position. I then put them on and dragged the bike over to the kitchen sink, so that I could hold on to the edge with one hand as I tried to figure out how the contraptions worked.



I expected that clipping in would be relatively easy, but clipping out difficult. It was the opposite. At first I could not to clip in. I tried and tried, but my foot stayed on top of the pedal and the mechanism would not engage no matter how hard I pressed. I struggled to figure out what I was doing wrong, but the explanation turned out to be simple: I am a weakling. We had to loosen the tension almost to the max for my foot to engage the mechanism. Even after that, I still had trouble pressing down with enough force and in the exact position necessary for the cleat to catch. Clipping out, on the other hand, was intuitive: the sideways twist of the foot is exactly the same motion required to get out of Power Grips, so I found it natural.Transitioning from the kitchen sink to the trainer, I practiced for some time, clipping in and out successfully. I then decided it was time to go outside. I felt pretty confident at this point. Nothing to this.

It was around 10 pm and the small side street behind our house was well lit and empty of cars. Confidently, I carried the bike outdoors, swung my leg over the top tube, and clipped in my right foot. Now all I had to do was push off, coast for a bit, then put my left foot back down on the ground. That would be such an easy first step. No different from Power Grips. Just need to do it. Now. Go! But... it was not to be. Like some malfunctioning marionette, I kept clipping and unclipping my right foot, trying to mentally force myself to push off, but it wasn't working; nothing was happening. The amused Co-Habitant offered to stand at the end of the street and "catch me" if I found myself unable to unclip when I got there. But imagining that just made it worse. It began to feel as if I'd forgotten how to ride a bike entirely.

There is no redeeming ending to this story. After a good ten minutes I gave up and went back inside, my head hung low in shame. Obviously I am just not ready.

Aside from the tale of failure, I have some observations about the shoe and pedal set-up. I can't find the model name of the shoes, but in retrospect getting clipless shoes with laces was silly. Being stiff and unyielding, they are difficult to put on and tighten, and it's a pain to tuck the laces under the velcro. I am also not sure these pedals are right for me. They are Shimano SPD 520s: mountain bike style, double sided and with a very small surface area. I know that many love this type of pedal, but to me it felt like not enough of my foot was connected. Pedaling on the trainer, I had the sensation that there was too much pressure on the spot where the cleat meets the pedal and that a larger contact area would have been better. Maybe these particular shoes are not stiff enough, or maybe I would do better with a different style of pedals. There seems to be a consensus that the mountain bike clipless system is easier than the road system, but I wonder whether I might prefer the latter. Unfortunately, there is no way to try these things out.

Navigating the world of clipless shoes and pedals is complicated, and at the moment it seems best to postpone it... at least until I am brave enough to use the ones I have beyond the confines of my kitchen!

Shop Bench

This bench was outside one shop door and looked like it was worth taking a picture of.

Tracing the Tangles

In theory, cycling on Cape Ann - with itsmiles of rocky beaches and its quaint villages - should be idyllic. In practice, it is all main roads, devoid of shade and dense with traffic, along a largely hypothetical coastline. The water views are obscured by developments and the sea is strangely scentless much of the time. Add to that the crater-sized potholes, the unyielding drivers, and the mosquitos immune to insect repellant - and frankly I don't find it so idyllic at all.



But stubbornly I persist: the same old 45 rolling miles, from Rockport to Ipswich and back. There is exactly one stretch of backroad along my route, and I anticipate it as one might anticipate a tart fruity filling in an otherwise bland pie.



There is only one stretch of backroad, but this stretch has a little of everything: climbing, quiet, overhanging trees, wooden bridges over saltwater marshes. And the part I look forward to most are the twists. The narrow road loops abruptly to the left, then to the right, then to the left again, then - who knows. It twists haphazardly - not so much a series of hairpins, as a mess of tangles.



As a young girl I once found a stray length of golden chain in my grandmother's garden.It was thin and delicate, the kind of chain meant to be worn with a pendant. But now it was dirty and torn and missing a clasp - not really of use to anyone.I remember standing there and spilling it back and forth from one hand to the other, fascinated by the curves and tangles it made each time it settled on my palm. I would trace the tangles with my eyes and it was an act of meditation.



This memory comes out of nowhere as I now trace the twists of the road on my bike. Or rather, it is the bike that traces them. I merely hang on and take it all in, savoring the experience. The bike leans dramatically left, then right, then left, then ...who knows. And I relax and lose myself in the meditative feel of it, my hands keeping clear of the brakes. I can't tell you how I finally learned to corner. It just happened one day. It emerged from a tangle of experiences, memories, emotions.

More Rodeo

Bareback bronc riding, my one photo of the team roping, and barrel racing.

Mom :: Before she was Mom

My Mother would have been 83 years old today. I thought that I had seen all of the pictures of her through the years, but amongst her things we found the picture below. I don't know whether it is her or not but it was in the same drawer as her marriage license and certificate.





Whoever it is, she is a cutie! Below are some (okay, a lot of) confirmed photos of Mom. What do you think? Is the above photo my Mother? As always, double-click to view a larger version of the photos.



1928 and 1934

1936 and 1937

1941 and 1942

1943 – fifteen years old – yes, 15!

1944 – sixteen years old

1945 (Junior Prom) and 1946

In May .., for her 80th birthday, I posted some photos of her in her later years.