Passiflora caerulea

Blue crown passionvine in bloom in my garden during June.

Cars - A Necessary Evil

When Jasia announced the topic of this edition of the COG, I'll have to admit that I cringed a bit. Cars have never been a "big" thing in my family. They were pretty much seen as a necessary evil, a utilitarian object required to get from one place to another. So much so, that I don't think that I have even one photograph of any of our cars. Well, that is, except for the one below, and several others of cars that were involved in accidents in which the cars were totaled. Those pictures aren't pretty and my brother and I were fortunate to walk away from the accidents uninjured with only a few bruises and scratches. I had a love-hate relationship with many of my cars. However, several other, more favorable, incidents involving cars and my family came crawling out of the recesses of my mind.


One of the earliest cars that I remember my family owning was the Nash Rambler. And, of course, we all absolutely adored the song "Beep Beep" when it came out in 1958. I wonder if that guy ever got his car out of second gear? It was a nice car though a bit small for a growing family. It was a bit crowded when we were all riding in it at the same time.

We lived out in the country, about 10 miles from the largest town (Warsaw) and nearest movie theatre. All of us (Mom, Dad, and 4 kids) would drive into Warsaw every Saturday to get groceries and once in a great while we would be treated to a movie. The Saturday Matinee at the Lake Theatre was a special event. We'd get a big bag of popcorn and a large pop to share. On this particular day it was "101 Dalmatians" that was showing, the original animated version, so it would have been 1961. Don't know why but that has stuck with me through the years. It is really irrelevant to the story. Anyway, the movie was over and we left the theatre. It was early evening and the street lights had just come on, shedding an eerie green light over everything which changed colors so they didn't look like they usually did. We were all excited and talking about the movie as we piled into our car. Dad put the key in the ignition and turned it, but nothing happened. The car wouldn't start. It was then that we started noticing that something wasn't quite right. We had gotten into the wrong car! We quickly got out and strolled down the block a little ways where we found our car, right where we had left it.

When my brother got out of the Navy in the spring of 1968, he bought a Chevrolet Corvair convertible. I don't remember the details but one day, for some reason, he wanted to go into North Webster, probably to hang out with some friends, and didn't want to leave his car in town. So he wanted me to take him in. Mom was at work so his was the only car available since I didn't have my own car at that time. Problem was, the Corvair was a stick shift, and I had only driven cars with an automatic transmission. No problem, he said, he'd teach me! And so he drove the car to the field out back of the house, I slid into the driver's seat and we chugged and jerked our way around that field until I could smoothly get the car out of one gear and into the next. And that is how I learned to drive a car with a manual transmission.

The first new car that I owned, and subsequently fell in love with, was an American Motors Hornet Hatchback. I spent the year 1973 in Iceland, at the Keflavik Naval Air Station, and one of the "perks" that I took advantage of at the end of my tour of duty was a discount on the purchase of a new car. I remember spending hours going over the various brochures that were provided. Sure, I wanted a car that looked nice, performed well, was dependable, etc. But most of all I wanted something that I could travel well with. Something that would even allow me to sleep in the car, if necessary. Billed as "a sports car with room to travel in" the AMC Hornet Hatchback seemed to fit my needs and also happened to fall within my budget!

The car was delivered to a dealership in Elkhart where I picked it up while I was on leave in January 1974. It was metallic blue, and beautiful. Over the next three years that car, dubbed "Old Blue," and I criss-crossed the United States several times. From northern Indiana to Florida, then to California, then to Rochester, New York, back to Indiana, back to California, and various places in-between. I just couldn't bear to part with the car in 1977 when I was transferred to Japan so it was put in storage for two years. The car was paid for. It had a lot of miles put on it but had been taken care of quite well and was in good shape. I figured it would be cheaper to pay for storage than to have to buy a new car when I returned.

A friend stationed at Point Mugu retrieved the car from storage and prepared it for my return. When I picked up the car in May 1979 it was as good as new, better even, since I didn't have car payments to make! That summer was, without a doubt, the best summer of my life and a journey I'll always remember. After a quick trip to San Diego to visit friends I headed north, along the coast highway, taking plenty of time before finally reaching friends in the Seattle, Washington area. To say that I took advantage of the fold-down back seats for sleeping would be an understatement. I lived in "Old Blue" that summer. Eventually, I made my way back to Indiana in time to start the fall semester at Indiana State University in Terre Haute.

Old Blue got me through school and held up well for a few more years. But during the winter of 1984 the heater quit working, which meant the windows couldn't be defrosted. And with winters in northern Indiana being what they are, I really needed a heater and defroster. When I took it in to get it checked out I was told that it would cost more to repair than the car was worth. So, it was with great sadness that I traded in Old Blue and purchased my next car. When the dealer looked at the odometer and saw that it said a bit over 80,000 miles he was impressed. "Wow, a ten year old car with only 80,000+ miles, and in great shape." For a moment the thought went through my mind, maybe I shouldn't tell him the actual mileage. But then, honesty, or perhaps some thoughts of bragging rights, came over me and he was astounded when I told him it actually had 180,000+ miles. Needless to say, the trade-in value plummeted, and I got next to nothing for Old Blue. Nothing except a lot of very good memories. And those are priceless.

I tend to hang on to cars until the very end. I'm on my third vehicle since Old Blue, a Chevy Cavalier, also a hatchback style, but without a name, that I've had for eight years now and it's getting close to 140,000 miles. It too has been a good, faithful car but the miles that have been put on it haven't been nearly as much fun as those with Old Blue.

Somewhere in my boxes of pictures I would like to think that I have a photo of Old Blue, but I haven't found it yet, and a picture isn't really needed for me to remember. But this picture shows what she looked like.

While trying to locate a picture on the 'net I discovered that in the 1974 movie "The Man with the Golden Gun" James Bond drove a red AMC Hornet hatchback special coupe. And, if you are a collector, for $39.99 you can actually purchase a 1/43 scale die cast model of the car. Cool, yes, but not really something that I want. The memories are sufficient.

Speed climbing and the Super Sherpa

This summer has seen a flurry of interest in climbing Mount Rainier FAST... Justin Merle set the pace by breaking Chad Kellogg's record (4 hours 59 minutes) by 10 minutes on July 11th. His friend and colleague, Liam O'Sullivan, raised the bar a few weeks later by sprinting up and down the mountain (Paradise to summit and back) in 4 hours 46 minutes, besting Merle by 3 minutes... Last week, Lhaka Gelu Sherpa threw the gauntlet down in hopes of smashing that record. With 13 Everest summits under his belt and a previous Everest speed record (the current record is held by Pemba Dorje Sherpa), Lhakpa certainly had the credentials to do it. But his well-publicized attempt was thwarted by nasty leg cramps on the descent (something that Liam also met with on a prior and unsuccessful ascent) and so our "Super Sherpa" will have to try again another day. I suppose that we'll see him again, and other speed climbers too... But any takers better move fast, as the route is beginning to change in ways that make rapid movement harder and more challenging (but it's still great for the masses that take 2-5 days, so don't worry).

We've also been getting questions about timed ascents to Camp Muir. So for your information, here are a few facts. In 1994, Climbing Ranger Scott Wanek ran from Paradise to the high camp in 51 minutes! Not bad, eh? Most people can't even ski DOWN that fast. But don't feel bad if your normal one way time is something like 4-6 hours, because Scott also had run a personal best 4:11 mile. Of course, Wanek's record had to be broken too, and it was done last year by Climbing Ranger Andy Anderson. Andy quietly posted a 46 minute one way ascent to Camp Muir! Yup, 4,500 feet of gain in 4.5 miles. So what did you do in the last 46 minutes? Michael Phelps might be smashing Olympic records, but it seems the Rainier records are meeting a similar fate this summer too.

Post by Monica and Mike

Knowing What You Like: Theory and Practice

If you are reading this, chances are you do a great deal of bicycle-related research - from reading blogs, product reviews, articles and DIY tips, to examining endless pictures of other people's bikes. In the absence of direct experience, this sort of research shapes our preferences and informs our decisions about what bicycles to get, as well as how to outfit them. Knowing a lot about something through research can sure make us feel as if we are "experts" at it. But the truth is, that until we try something ourselves, we have no idea what it's actually like. Theory is one thing; practice is another. I will confess some bicycle-related ideas that I loved after reading about them, but did not love so much after actually implementing them.

In theory, I love the look of shellacked cork grips and shellacked cork bartape. In practice, I found that the feel of shellacked cork is too glassy and slippery for my liking. The more layers of shellac, the nicer the cork looks... and the worse it feels to my hands. I really wanted to like it, but it just does not work for me. I prefer un-shellacked cork, shellacked cloth tape, leather grips, and even plastic grips.

Inexpensive cloth tape with just a couple of thin layers of shellac. Not as fancy and shiny, but my hands prefer it.

The "Special" version of Brooks saddles. I love the look of Brooks "Special" saddles with their pretty copper rivets - so much so, that last summer I paid a bit extra for a Flyer Special for my vintage Motobecane mixte, instead of getting the Standard. I have since learned that the Special versions of the saddles are apparently made of a thicker leather. In theory this is a good thing, as the saddles are more durable. In practice, it has proven impossible for me to break in my Flyer Special! A year later, and it still hurts.

The B17 Standard on my Hillborne has less of a "wow" factor, but I don't care: It took me a week to break in this saddle!

Last year, Honjo fluted fenders seemed like such a beautiful choice for Marianne. But while they truly are picture-perfect, they did not stay that way for long once I began riding my bike. The long smooth fluted surfaces of these fenders showcase every micro-scratch, and after a few months mine began to look pretty beat up. By contrast, the Co-Habitant's hammered Honjos disguise scratches and dents, as they are essentially "pre-dented". Though I prefer the look of the fluted model, I regret having bought such expensive fenders only to have them look battered. You live, you learn.

And then of course there is the lovely front wicker basket - that ultimate symbol of civilised, romantic cycling. Alas, it was not meant to be: experience has shown that I prefer the front of my bike to be free of large wicker objects, no matter how beautiful.

Instead, these rear folding baskets have proven to be just the thing for me. Not as cute as a wicker basket in the font, but they suit me better.

In describing my experiences, I by no means suggest that you should stay away from any of the products that did not work for me. My point is simply that you never know whether you will like something until you actually use it - regardless of how stunning it looks in pictures, or even of how obvious its benefits seem in product reviews. There is no way around personal experience, and bicycles are no exception.

Rapha Women's Line... I Don't Get It

Rapha is one of those companies that people tend to either love, or love to hate. Essentially a manufacturer of high-end cycling clothing, but also a magazine publisher, racing sponsor, event organiser, bicycle design collaborator, and general "lifestyle brand," Rapha promotes an unapologetically romantic vision of roadcycling via an endless output of dreamy images as part of its advertising and social media campaigns. Slender, beautifully backlit cyclists suffer exquisitely as they scale mountains - often in black and white, and often to the accompaniment of haunting music, fostering a sense of nostalgia for a time that is not yet in the past. The garments offered are minimalist and expensive. That is Rapha in a nutshell.

Now, let me make it clear that I have nothing against Rapha's marketing tactics. I appreciate an effective advertising campaign achieved through emotional channels, and for this they surely deserve an award. When something inspires suchexcellent parody, you know it's reached iconic status. I also have nothing against brands that are considered luxury or high end, if the quality of their products reflects the price. So what's my problem with Rapha? It's not so much a problem, as a genuine feeling of dissonance - at least when it comes to the women's line. When I encounter their clothing in person, what's in front of me does not match the image cultivated by the impressive adverts.



Take, for instance, theWomen's Stowaway Jacket. Last summer I was desperate for a cycling rain jacket after my old windbreaker came apart. I wanted the jacket to be form-fitting, waterproof, and, ideally, red. Having exhausted the less pricey alternatives, I followed up on a suggestion to try Rapha. The Stowaway happened to be on sale at the Ride Studio Cafe at the time, and I came prepared to buy it. I tried on the jacket. It wasn't bad. I mean, not horrendous. Basically, it looked like a tracksuit top circa 1982 - something you'd expect to see on, say, an East German gymnast of that era. It's an intriguing look if you can pull that sort of thing off,but not especially flattering. The shade of red also strikes me as uninspired: not an exciting bright red and not a classic vintagey-brick either, but a dated crimson that I do not readily associate with cycling.



True to '80s tracksuits styling, the fit is tight in the chest, but mysteriously baggy above the chest - forming strange folds at the collar that threatened to constrict my breathing.



And do you see that bulge in the back? You're probably thinking that's the rear pockets. Nope. This cycling jacket has no rear pockets; that's just a bulge that forms on its own.



Although there are side pockets, they are small - so small, that I had trouble sticking my hands inside. Mind you, none of these design flaws are at all unusual in the sadistic world of women's cycling apparel, and if anything Rapha is not as bad as some of the alternatives. But for me, that is just not good enough given what I was made to expect.



Moving on to the Classic Women's Jersey - which I had considered when looking for wool cycling clothing: The styling in itself is all right, except that the full-length zipper creates artificial "tummy folds," as is common with this type of jersey.



The fabric is described as "sportwool," but as soon as I put it on, it became clear that this was a euphemism for a polyester-heavy blend. I later checked and yup: "sportwool" is 60% polyester.



Though the minimalist design is tasteful and subtle, I would rate the texture of the fabric as average on the rough vs silky scale. And for a hot weather jersey, it seemed somewhat heavy to me.



One nice thing about the Rapha jerseys, is that they come with arm warmers. Problem is (and I am not the only one to have noted this), that the arm warmers seem to be one size smaller than the jersey - rendering them essentially useless for those whose arms are not stick-thin. Too bad, because including matching arm warmers is a wonderful idea.



I could go on about other items in the Rapha women's line, but that's probably enough for now. Suffice to say that I find all of it more or less all right, but by no means extraordinary either in quality or looks. I am supportive of what Rapha is trying to do - create inspiring, classic, tasteful, well made cycling clothing. We can certainly use more brands that create such clothing for female cyclists, so really, I am all for it. But come on Rapha: Live up to your image. Watching all those dreamy backlit videos, I expected some truly "epic" women's cycling apparel... and this ain't it.

Cats on a Tree

Here are Wiley and Jade posing on their indoor cat tree. They like to sit on it and look out the window

Douro River Valley Tour 5: A visit to a Port wine estate — Quinta do Tedo

This is the last stop of the Douro River Valley Tour, a visit to a Port vineyard located in Armamar (Viseu district) along the Douro River and Tedo River just before reaching Pinhao. Maria told us that this estate is a very small, single Quinta A classification. Quinta in Portuguese is equivalent to an estate, hacienda or domaine.



Wine estate classifications runs from A to F with A being the highest. You can find more information here: Portuguese Quinta Classification







Quinta do Tedo on a much better weather (blue skies!) day. Picture from wiemax.com



Quinta do Tedo



From my seat in the mini bus (I was sitting in front), I could see Quinta do Tedo coming into view, the estate is perched on top of a hill and is waiting for us. Maria said the views up there are beautiful. I am sure I will not disagree. This part of the Douro River Valley is very peaceful, raw and pure. It was raining when we drove up the private road leading to the estate but when we jumped out of the mini bus, the rain drizzled down a little bit providing us the opportunity to enjoy the breath taking views while we took the obligatory pictures.



The place is soooo lovely, even on a bit gloomy and rainy day!







There are 3 dogs in the estate but this one is the sweetest. He came to greet us.









Breath taking views are they not? Even for a bit gloomy day...









The man from the winery welcomed us as we stood there in awe of our surroundings. He told us that the valley we are looking at—35 acres of vineyards including the body of water, all belong to Quinta do Tedo. There are another 22 acres of land planted with olives and fruits that belongs to the estate as well.



Then he urged us to follow him to the cave where they store and age the wines in oak barrels. The cave is located at the other side of the estate and as we rounded the corner, we were again confronted by the beautiful scenery, he had to patiently wait for everyone until we were done snapping pictures. I can probably hear him mutter under his breath, ‘Ah, tourists…’ Haha, he must be used to this.













Port Wine Cave



Mr. wine man explained to us the aging process of Port wine and all that stuff, yadda, yadda, etcetera. Anyway, there’s a ton of information about Port wine available online for those who are interested. There is google for that so I will not be posting that here. But in this winery, I learned that for Port wine to be called vintage, it must be at least 10 years old. Naturally, the value of a bottle of vintage Port follows its age.



The wine estate is actually now owned by a Frenchman coming from the Bouchard wine growing family in Burgundy, France.







Isn't she just too cute? This is the little girl of the Japanese couple living in Frankfurt, Germany.

















Here I am smiling reluctantly (disapprovingly!) at the camera because of the bad weather. Unfortunately, after our short Port cave session, it rained again. Here I am walking back to the main part of the building for the next part of the agenda which is the Port tasting.



Port Tasting – Vintage is my favourite



I really would have wanted to buy a vintage bottle of Port from this winery but I came by plane with a carry-on luggage. It is also too much of a hassle to have to ship a bottle of wine to the Netherlands but I really enjoyed their vintage here very much. So smooth and elegant.



Read here my entry about the types of Port wine and my visit to the Calem Caves in Vila Nova de Gaia: Port cave tour and tasting at Calem: You drink Port at the end of the meal!







We had a tasting of Port wines, from left to right: 10-year old Tawny, a Ruby 2007 and a Vintage .











The estate also offers Bed & Breakfast accommodation. In fact, many quintas offer this in the Douro River Valley. My wish would be that during the warmer months, I’d be able to come back here and stay in the valley for a few days.



So we have come to the end of the tour and as we drove back to Porto, my last memory of the drive and everything else were these pictures below before I dozed off.







I woked up just in time when we entered Porto. The streets seem to be dry, so I am grinning and hearing hallelujah ringing in my ears. The evening is going to be promising!



Previous entries:



Douro River Valley Tour 4b: Lunch in Peso da Regua at Restaurante Douro In

Douro River Valley Tour 4a: The flood in Peso da Regua

Douro River Valley Tour 3: Wine, Cheese and Presunto tasting in Lamego

Douro River Valley Tour 2: A rainy and misty 'Douro viewing point' stop

Douro River Valley Tour 1: Amarante village, Vinho Verde (green wine) and some Travel Agency rant

Simple Minds in Heineken Music Hall Amsterdam

Strange enough the searing headache I carried the whole day today Friday only pestered me right after the Simple Minds concert featuring OMD (Orchestral Maneuvers in the Dark), all eighties flick, last night. Precisely after the concert finished in Heineken Music Hall in Amsterdam Arena my head throbbed. UGH. Was it was the noodles I ate? The red wine I drank? Or the two glasses of Heineken beer I had during the concert? Or maybe it could be the work stress added into all these. Hmm. Well, it’s not pleasant at all going to bed with a headache and waking up with it, moreover bringing it all the way to work the next day.

Anyways, I’m better now and I have uploaded a few of the fotos below. Dutchman took a number of one-minute footages, see below after the fotos. One of the things I am happy about is Dutchman and I are into the same music =)



During the thirty-minute short break after the OMD introduction. A few years ago Dutchman and I were also here for the Simple Minds concert and we were standing right by the stage. Last night we were by the bleachers, far but we had a great view, I think.





Simple Minds here in action with the play of lights. The show started at 8PM and we left the music hall 1130PM. The sound quality of Heineken Music Hall is really good... videos below!











OMD's once very very popular song -- 'Enola Gay'... ah, those were the days! OMD, New Order, Depeche Mode, they began the new era of music, the synthesizers rage that has now morphed into techno, trance and house music.











Simple Minds' -- 'Don't You Forget About Me', another big hit back then in the eighties. This song just never dies, classic.











Another of Simple Minds' - 'New Gold Dream', a fast number and love the show of lights here, this is the end part.



The concert was sold out, didn't realize there are still many Simple Minds fans out there. Did you know that back in the eighties they were neck and neck with U2? In the hallways of the music hall I was squeezing my little self between giant Dutch people. Why is it that every time I am only seeing shoulders!? Answer: I am too short in this country; I swear I never felt like a midget anywhere else except here. Glad I am not one of those claustrophobic types or else I will totally freak out.

Jim Kerr is getting older, and well, heavier too. He didn’t dare take out his jacket during the whole show even if it was blazing hot on stage whilst sweating like he just did a hundred kilometer run. I bet he is hiding something inside his clothes, which many of us can relate, lol. And Andy McCluskey, oh dear his wacky dancing on the stage brought me back to the eighties! I’m so so old ha-ha.

It’s also interesting to notice that the audience is older, from late thirties to fifties. There was a group of dark looking guys smoking as if its the most normal thing to do. Argh, I was so tempted to go down the bleachers and give them a lecture. Asociale mensen. This type of behaviour, the total neglect of other people and the rules really irks me to bits. The music hall is no smoking alright.

All in all, the concert was nice except the searing headache after.

.