More Twin Love

We just can't stay away from these babies. They continue to gain weight and are doing very well.
And yes, I took the self-portrait, which wasn't easy.
Here's my baby with a grandbaby.

Safer, safe and ‘less dangerous’

Claire after her skydive yesterday. Not looking too scared

I was just listening to Amartya Sen explaining on radio about his ideas about justice in the world, and his way of looking at this aspect of humanity struck me as just as relevant in another.

His thesis in the world of justice is that we should think in a more pragmatic, and less idealist way in order to achieve the best possible outcome for people. Specifically he has the idea that we pour a huge amount of energy trying to solve completely particular injustices, with the intended outcome being to make them 100% ‘just’. But, he says, the ideal of a perfectly just scenario often remains out of reach. Instead, if we first seek out the biggest and deepest injustices, and measure success against their starting points, rather than against the ideal finishing point of perfect justice, we will end up increasing overall justice by a larger amount. So the focus on scrubbing out the last remains of stubborn injustice becomes not just a black hole for our resources, but a distraction from deeper injustice elsewhere.

It struck me that this parallels closely recent arguments about risk in life and society. Economics right now is teaching popular society a lot about the importance of risk. Namely that pursuing the ideal of eliminating risk is actually harmful to economies, just as very risky and unstable situations are. Similarly, a statistical perspective minus the blinkers of a ratings driven media such as this book on the risks we face highlights some of the ridiculous situations we find ourselves in when we attempt to eliminate tiny risks (such as terrorism) and allow these to completely distract us from huge risks elsewhere.

Amartya’s idea projected onto risk makes a lot of sense to me and to me reflects closely the decision making process I’ve aspired to in the risky climbing I do. Other climbing bloggers thoughts recently (such as Dougald and Will’s) have reminded us well that believing in complete safety in climbing will always prove a fallacy. So it’s important to try not to be distracted by making tiny risks tinier, if larger ones lie ignored in the background (and they often do in my opinion).

A common example that often worries me when listening to other climbers discourse on safety is a fascination with the fine details of climbing equipment systems. Nothing wrong with that whatsoever, so long as it’s seen in context of the whole picture of climbing safety, which is often isn’t. The trouble is that our safety systems relating to climbing equipment are only one link in a chain of factors that determine how much risk we face when climbing.

The ‘soft’ skills (I hate the term but can’t immediately think of a replacement) of our tactics, decision making and movement skill on rock, ice or mountains are the other, larger part, and they often suffer relative ignorance.

A more specific example; Out of the climbers I know who onsight E6 or harder, I can't think of any who aren’t expert at downclimbing (out of trouble). Why? Quite simply, having this skill allows you to go with far less danger where it would be hideously dangerous to rely solely on ‘up’ climbing ability and safety equipment. In contrast, the trad climber’s I know who’ve suffered a series of confidence destroying serious falls are more often than not poor at climbing down out of scary situations. I’ve had a million climbers ask me all sorts of weird and wonderful questions about the fine points of equipment, and strategies for it’s use, and it often shocks them when I don’t always know an answer. But I can’t recall ever being asked about downclimbing.

Important things are often at the mercy of things less important. Looking for dangerous things to make less dangerous will often be more successful than looking for anything to make perfectly safe.

"Can I Recover Christmas?" ~ Our New Song

The unplanted bulbs and falling leaves will keep for another day!
Last year I wrote a Christmas song for Roots In Austin, using my power as the author to break up the character Caroline's romance shortly before a Christmas season began. That may not have been kind of me, but the breakup let Caroline sing a holiday song as the approach of Christmas reminded her of what's been lost rather than what she expected. The song was recently finished and I think it will work well for her lovelorn situation in the play. But undertones in the lyrics told me they had deeper meanings, for other situations. Over this long Thanksgiving weekend Philo and I added photos and turned the song into a video for our Station Kaefka on YouTube. So far the reception for our latest musical child has been very kind - thank you to all who have already watched it. To the rest of you - get out your handkerchiefs!

"Can I Recover Christmas" music & lyrics copyrighted. If the screen won't play, try this Link to YouTube.
Although "Can I Recover Christmas?" wasn't ready last year, another of our copyrighted songs was finished by the beginning of December ... It's a happy song about the lovely annual tradition of Spinning Under the Tree of Lights at Zilker Park in Austin. This year the tree will be lit at 6 PM on Sunday December 7th, with the rest of the Trail of Lights festival beginning on Sunday December 14th, running nightly through December 23rd. The Trail hours are 7 PM to 10 PM.
A few days ago I had a conversation with Laura Esparza from the Cultural Affairs Division of the Austin Parks Department. Laura told me that the Trail of Lights festival will be more environmentally friendly this year. The change over to LED lights is in progress and food service now emphasizes recycling. She also noted that the power for the lights comes from wind farms. I loved the tree and like having another reason to think Austin is cool! You can go to the Austin Parks Department if you'd like to find out more about Spinning under the Tree, or Walking the Trail of Lights. Now here's an encore of our Spinning Under the Tree song to get you in the mood. Either click the screen or try this link to YouTube.

The safe and general antidote against sorrow is employment. Samuel Johnson, The Rambler

Boat in the woods

Sure, lots of people have boats on the river, or boats at the lake.
If you want to be really trendy, try a boat in the woods. It doesn't go very fast, but there's no danger of drowning.
I really thought this boat would have fallen totally apart by now, but she's still hanging in there. (Here it is in ...)

It used to say, "Jazz Feeds". I've no idea why anyone would paint an ad on the side of their boat.
This one makes me feel like a sort of tumbledown Walker Evans, only 1000% less likely to take a good photograph.)

Maybe I really should plant something in it.

Ms. Muscovy

Ms. Muscovy is the only duck here who flies much. The Indian Runners can't be bothered, Ms. Mallard prefers to waddle, and Mr. Muscovy is too heavy to get off the ground (unless Jasmine is chasing him).
Lately she has learned that on the rim of the dog pen (that serves as their nighttime predator protection), she'll be away from the drakes' loving attentions, yet remain part of the flock. Being part of the flock is pretty important to ducks.
The roof of the workshop is Ms. Muscovy's other favorite place to land.

Review: "Waves and Beaches"

Marooned by a combination of a healing arm (Sharon) and a malingering cold (Alec), we haven't been able to paddle lately. That hasn't kept us from reading about the waves we're missing, however. In fact, we're absorbed in two books by pioneering oceanographer Willard Bascom, who died in 2000 at the age of 83.

Waves and Beaches: The Dynamics of the Ocean Surface was first published in 1964 as part of the Science Study Series of "up-to-date, authoritative, and readable science books" by the Physical Science Study Committee of Educational Services Incorporated.



The original paperback cover.

Bascom's scholarly surf credentials are extensive. He began his career as an oceanographic engineer in 1945, when he joined the World War II Waves Project of the University of California at Berkeley. The initial goal of the project was to analyze the underwater shapes of beaches to understand how aerial images could help the military predict surf. Later, the project continued for scientific purposes. Bascom's day-to-day work involved going out in huge, breaking waves in a "dukw" (amphibious truck) and taking depth measurements with a lead weight on a line, then correlating those readings with wave heights measured by markers and transits.

Bascom, who had previously worked in mines and tunnels, had never before seen the Pacific Ocean. "Somehow, in innocence and ignorance, I was persuaded that fifteen-foot breakers smashing down on a thirty-two-foot tin boat were nothing to be disturbed about," he writes. "In reality, of course, we underestimated the height and unexpectedly encountered breakers over twenty feet high." The local Coast Guard considered these conditions unsuitable for anything other than emergency rescues. "But they had the advantage of appreciating the risk," he notes dryly.

His literal immersion in the science of surf was the start of a remarkable career in oceanography. He went on to direct the Mohole Project for the National Academy of Science and become president of Ocean Science and Engineering, Inc. And fortunately for us, he wrote this amazing book (among others).

Waves and Beaches begins with chapters on wave theory and properties. He covers sea waves, storm waves, shallow-water waves and the longest waves of all: tides. In the process, he explains the physics of waves--why they break when they do, how their speed and force relate to their height and frequency--and how they are affected by shoreline and underwater features.

If you don't get hung up on the complicated calculations and instead read his explanations, you'll find this book surprising accessible and, at times, surprising. Bascom disputes the existence of "undertow," for example (though he takes rip tides very seriously and explains why they occur and how to survive if you're caught in one).

His explanations of surf are fabulous:

"As a wave crest moves into water whose depth is about twice the wave height....the crest 'peaks up.' That is, the rounded crest that is identified with swell is transformed into a higher, more pointed mass of water with steeper flanks. As the depth of the water continues to decrease, the circular orbits [of the water particles] are squeezed into a tilted ellipse and the orbital velocity at the crest increases with the increasing wave height....when not enough water is available in the shallow water ahead to fill in the crest and complete a symmetrical wave form, the top of the onrushing crest becomes unsupported and it collapses, falling in uncompleted orbits. The wave has broken; it is surf."

Reading this book, it's hard to believe it was written more than 50 years ago. It feels remarkably contemporary, both in its science and in its spirit.

Sadly, it is now out of print, but you can still get a copy online. It may seem insane to pay $20 or more for a book that says "$2.50" on the cover, but it's well worth it.

We'll write about the other book, The Crest of the Wave: Adventures in Oceanography, Bascom's autobiography, in a future post.

Down...

... But hopefully not out. I have been insanely chasing a century of climbing over recent months, and I was really thinking it could happen. Last Sunday I took on my great nemesis (i.e. the heat) and beat it. I was also closing in on 30 centuries for the year (Sunday was number 29). So it is perhaps a little ironic that I should head out for a ride this evening, with the heat not only beaten, but now firmly in retreat. A southerly wind was blowing and it was raining lightly. I was heading for my usual Tuesday evening ride out to the glow worms. About 8.5km in I had warmed up nicely and was starting to find form. In the space of a few seconds, it all unravelled.
There's a new road they're building out at Robina -- well, it's actually a duplication of Cheltenham Drive. Not open to traffic yet, but I normally cut through there anyway. Somehow I didn't see that bit of debris that went under my wheel (I still haven't seen it -- even though I got up and had a look for it). Can someone tell me why that split second when you're trying in vain to retrieve an off-balance bike seems to take forever? I tried to make the save, but failed and went down hard.
My shoulder took a nasty hit, my back is sore when I try to bend over, and I've re-opened an old scar on my left forearm. I had a headache immediately after the crash, but it seems to be clearing up pretty well now. All of this probably justifies a visit to a doctor tomorrow morning, however. I actually felt really down after all this, I even had some doubting thoughs about February's New Zealand trip. Instead I ran a warm bath when I got home, and listened to Sarah Blasko on the CD player -- I feel much better now (even if I'm still a little sore).
I've no idea how long I'll be off the bike. I've never had a back injury before, so I'll tread carefully here. I just hope I get some good news, the midnight century's only a few weeks away -- and I still want to get that last 9,000 metres of climbing to finish this thing off. It's also looking like another great streak will come to an end. This will be the first calendar month since February 2003 in which I have failed to ride 1,000 miles or 1,610km. The pitiful 22km for today won't quite get me there.

On the other hand, I did at least manage to get those tickets for the sold out Oasis concert, so I have something else to do this weekend.