Bridges

This week has been on of the warmest so far this year. Wednesday (into the 60s) I headed out from the Wabash Trace Trailhead, going to the riverfront. Everything went well until I got to the Highway 92 bridge. The trail was blocked. Seems they are setting girders for the second 2 lanes.
My plan was to ride 20-25+ miles. Time for plan "B". I turned around back the Indian Creek trail to Manawa Trail then rode started riding around Lake Manawa. I even went to the South part of the park - had not been there. Great riding since the wind was with me on the West (open) side of the lake. Wind was not a problem on the East side of the lake with all of the houses and buildings.
Still not enough miles, to another loop around the lake. On the way back to the trailhead, the wind was kicking up. Planned to ride over the Xtreme Wheels to finish, but the wind got just too bad.
Thought that my legs would the tired and sore after the 50 miles in 3 weeks, but wanted to ride some anyway Thursday. It turned out that the weather was better that day - same temperature but almost no wind. Warm-up ride from Western Heritage Trail Center to N 24th. On the way back, saw Dennis driving to the trail center. Tried to catch him along the trail but to no avail. He stopped at the N16th Hy-Vee - chatted with him and we rode together to Big Lake. The road along the lake is closed - building a bridge there.
From Big Lake, it was down to the new trail bridge across the Missouri. They are making progress on the bridge. Not sure about the 4-way intersection at the East (Iowa) end of the bridge. Ending at the Trail Center was enough for Dennis. I still wanted to go toward 25+ miles. Rode over to Indian Creek - from Highway 92 to S 16th Ave. Over 26 miles today.
Time to take a break from the riding. Have a case of "saddle sores" from the aggressive riding this week. That was OK, since the weather was forecast for rain and nasty weather starting this morning. WRONG -- sunny and 50 most of the day.

Loire Valley: Domaine des Hauts de Loire

The kings of France ditched Paris for the Loire Valley during the Renaissance, leaving the region littered with glorious châteaux. And who could blame them? This lush valley is a regal backdrop for elaborate castles, its fertile vineyards and farmlands supplying royal feasts. Local pears and goat cheese, Sancerre and Pouilly-Fumé still end up on restaurant tables in Tours.


Tuck yourself in at Domaine des Hauts de Loire, a fairy tale of a hotel whose antiques-filled rooms overlook 178 acres of forest.




Domaine des Hauts de Loire is one of the best classic French châteaux hotels in a region known for the extravagance of its châteaux, an ivy-covered manor house just outside the village of Onzain, just two hours from Paris. Some of the castles in this region date to the middle ages - this one, though, is relatively recent, having been built as a hunting lodge in 1860. The atmosphere, then, is more luxurious than feudal, more picturesque than protective.



The hotel is surrounded by 180 acres of parkland, complete with tennis courts, pool, wooded paths for exploring, and a pond where swans float by as though posing for postcard photos. Hot air balloon rides and helicopter tours of the château-studded Loire valley can be arranged.



The château rooms are elegant, restrained, with a tasteful sprinkling of antiques and large modern bathrooms — rooms in the carriage house, by contrast, are bigger and more contemporary, if ever so slightly less charming. The restaurant, under the direction of chef Rémy Giraud, serves traditional French country cuisine with a modest international influence (wasabi replacing horseradish, for example), and features a large collection of the region's wines.

The fly

What is crawling on my tyre?

Isn't it remarkable how some of the smallest things in life can restore a sense of perspective to a temporarily irrational mind? For some reason I took yesterday badly (as evidenced by the post below). I really don't know why I took it so badly -- often I've consoled friends who have failed exams by pointing out that one exam is not going to ruin a life. However, I wasn't thinking that way yesterday -- nor early this morning it seemed.

I knew I needed to get on the bike in order to get over this, but this morning I woke up feeling lethargic. It was almost like I didn't care. Eventually I forced myself to get out there, heading for Tallebudgera Valley. As usual, it was a beautiful ride once I got away from the urban sprawl of the coast.



It was only after getting back to one of my special places by the banks of the creek well away from civilisation that I started to restore some perspective to my mind.



Yet it was only when I walked back to my bike for the ride home that I noticed that little green fly sitting on my wheel. Strangely, I've never noticed this creature before. As far as I was aware, flies only came in one colour -- black (apart from the glow worms at Austinville of course). It was at that moment that I realised that this indeed wasn't the end of the world by a long shot. Heck, my problems are minute compared to what some others are suffering at the moment. I have been reminded once again that in pursuit of our goals and ambitions, we shouldn't lose sight of the little things that make the world such a special place.

As far as the journey goes, I will get there eventually. In this case, it might just take a little longer than I had anticipated. So who would have expected such insights to come from a fly?

300k -- finally!

I have waited a long, long time for this one. Up until the weekend, I had never ridden 300km in a day -- despite having gone beyond 280km on no fewer than five occasions. Technically I probably still haven't -- given that this ride started in the afternoon and continued through the night. On the other hand, there were 310km covered between arrival in Caboolture and the return there for the train home (plus another 14km on the 'Coast getting to and from the train), so I'm claiming it.
This ride arose from a desire to participate in the Audax 200km night ride starting and finishing in the town of Kilcoy, north-west of Brisbane. It was getting to and from the ride that would present the extra kilometres I was seeking, as it is 50km from the nearest train station in Caboolture (actually, by the route I took it was a little further, but who's counting?).

The ride from Caboolture to Kilcoy is quite a pleasant one. There are early views of the Glasshouse mountains in the distance, and some very pretty bushland to pass through, particularly on the Neurum road detour. Arrival in Kilcoy presented a bigger turnout than expected, until I realised there was a 50km ride being run at the same time as my 200k. The early part was on a familiar route, passing Mt Kilcoy, one particularly nasty wooden bridge where I had a very nervous moment, and returning to Kilcoy on the Jimna Road I used en route to Mt Buggary last September.

It was after leaving Kilcoy (again) and heading for Esk that the drama really started. First of all, my chain was making some noises it shouldn't have been. I'd had a rear derailleur repaired in Hobart a few weeks ago, and they had told me they'd needed to take the chain apart to do it. I began to wonder if that was the problem. Then I discovered a slow leaking flat on the rear tyre -- not a problem as I had a spare tube, right?
Wrong. The MTB tube was still in the saddlebag, and wasn't going to be much use to me out here. Oh well, it was only a slow leak, if I pump it up enough I might make it to Esk. For some reason I also started thinking of last week's knee problems -- although they gave me no problems at all tonight.
All of these concerns somehow cancelled each other out, and I was able to relax and really enjoy the night. The temperature was glorious, as were the twilight views of Lake Somerset (which I'd see again later). Someone in a passing car even shouted encouragement (normally they shout abuse on the Gold Coast). I did have to re-pump the rear tyre before Esk, but even that didn't bother me.

Shortly after leaving Esk it dawned on me that I had no idea at all what the time was. I had assumed it was getting late, but somehow I was so lost in this ride that keeping track of that simply didn't occur to me. I was more concerned with the moon sailing through the sky and lighting up Lake Wivenhoe in such a way that can be viewed for hours, but never photographed.
A little later just after the climb at Wivenhoe power station I renewed acquaintances with Lisa from Inverell who I'd ridden with for 170-odd km on an ill-fated 600k attempt last year. We had something to talk about as about 35 cars suddenly went past at high speed. If 35 cars suddenly pass at high speed at 1.00 am it usually means one thing. Our suspicions were confirmed at the next intersection -- there were about 50 hoons out for some drag racing.
Fortunately, the road ahead had more corners than the road behind, meaning they weren't going our way. Even more fortunately, they were surprisingly polite when we passed them. At least it gave us something to talk about. At the next checkpoint it was clear that my rear tyre was now going to need to be patched. This was the first time I've done this in the dark, and it took a little longer than usual.
The tube patched and the offending piece of glass removed, I set off again, and discovered my front tyre now had a similar problem. I just pumped it and figured I'd deal with it later (i.e. preferably when it was daylight again). The remaining ride to Kilcoy to "officially" finish was up and down, with one almighty climb before rejoining Lake Somerset. I negotiated these and watched the light starting in the eastern sky. Daylight comes about 4-4.30 am in these parts, which was about the time I made it back into Kilcoy.

I was offered a ride home and declined -- I wanted to finish off this 300 properly. I started feeling a little tired on the Neurum road (for the second time in 24 hours). I fixed the front tyre properly to keep myself awake, and pressed on. One again the scenery on this road provided the inspiration, as did the prospect of making it to Woodford and a bakery for some breakfast.

The final stretch back to Caboolture was almost surreal. My legs were just about shot, but continued to find enough for the rolling hills as they came along. I was counting off each of the "failed attempts" in the 280's and 290's. I did raise a fist when the 300 came up, however, the end of the ride was something of an anti-climax. As I rode into Caboolture, I couldn't help thinking what an unremarkable dump that place is. I'm sure it has some redeeming qualities for someone, but it's just not for me.
As to where I go next, well, there is a 300km ride starting from Esk early next month. It's another all-nighter, but after this experience, I think I'll give it a go. Transport to and from Esk shouldn't be as difficult as there is apparently a bus service there from Ipswich (to where I could catch a train). On the other hand, it's only 67km from Esk to Ipswich, maybe I could just ride it.

The Drive That Wasn’t Meant to Be

We went to bed last night to a downpour.  We woke up to a downpour.  And did it ever pour!  It was the kind of rain that overpowered the sound of Little River rushing over rocks and boulders.  It rained, and it rained, and it rained.  Finally, around 1:00p, it started to let up a bit.  So, we considered our options.  We could go to the Heritage Center; but the ongoing drizzle and possibly soggy ground was a deterrent.  We could stay at home; but we wanted to get out for some fresh air and a change of scenery.  We could go for a drive.  Perfect, see some sights in the park and stay dry in the process.

At the Cades Cove/Gatlinburg split a short distance inside the Townsend entrance to the park, we turned left to head towards Gatlinburg.  We didn’t know if we’d make it all the way there, but we wanted to see what we could uncover on Scenic Highway 73, which runs alongside Little River.  Of course, I couldn’t resist a couple of river shots.

After all that rain, there’s no lack of water flowing downriver.

As beautiful as the flow of the water is, it is endangering the trees along the riverbed by exposing their roots and eroding the soil that is supporting them.

Our next stop was at The Sinks, which is better described as a big cascade rather than a waterfall.  Regardless of what you call them, the turbulent waters rushing down into the gorge are very dangerous.  The currents are strong enough to trap victims underwater and keep them there.  I saw some photos of kayakers running the chute; all I can say is that they must be nuts to attempt something so obviously risky.  We didn’t see anyone jumping into the water from the nearby cliffs, nor was anyone wading, but it’s apparently not unknown for people to do both despite the warning sign posted in the parking lot.  People have drowned here; most recently a 17-year old girl last summer.  She was wading when she slipped and fell into the water.  Other visitors tried to save her by forming a human chain, but their efforts were to no avail.

A path hidden by the trees rewards us with this view.

Despite the ongoing drizzle, we find a dry spot for a photo op.

Mui has a request for proposals (RFP) out for events he’s organizing in May.  When we returned to the car, he had a message on his Blackberry that there were 43 questions from vendors interested in bidding for the job waiting to be answered.  We could have continued with our plans for the afternoon and he could have done his work the next morning, but it seemed like a better plan for him to get the job out of the way on a drizzly afternoon.

Thus we set off back to the campground, almost missing a great photo op along the way.  Mui’s eagle eye, however, caught a tiny glimpse of a treasure hidden by heavy brush on the far side of the river.  When I questioned why he had pulled off the road, all he would tell me was to take my big lens and the tripod, and walk back a few feet.  The big lens immediately made me think that he’d seen some wildlife, but it turns out that he’d seen a waterfall.  Yes, more flowing water pictures follow :-)

The picture on the left shows what caught Mui’s eye as we whizzed by at 30 mph.

At full zoom I can get only two of the cascades that make up Meigs Falls.
visitors can hike to many of the falls in the gsmnp; this one can only be seen from the road.
[though I’m partial to the B&W treatment, I couldn’t decide between the two photos,
so you get to see both.]

After this last stop, we drove back to the campground without dallying further.  Despite the light rain, we settled ourselves at the picnic table on the covered deck with cups of hot chocolate and our laptops.  While Mui did his work, I processed photos and tried to catch up on my reading — a lost cause, I’m afraid.

All in all, cutting our outing short was the right decision.  If the local forecast is to be believed, we have a really great day ahead of us to finish exploring the heritage sites on the Cades Cove Loop.

(By the way, for those interested, gas for the toad in Townsend today was $3.69/gallon.)

Flat tires: The ultimate cycling buzz kill

No matter what kind of bike you have, if you ride enough miles, you're going to encounter a flat tire at some point.
There's never really a convenient time for it, and unless you do the majority of your biking within two blocks of your house or a bike shop, it's not going to happen at a convenient location either.
Anybody who's kept up with my blog knows that I've encountered my fair share of flats on a bike. Three during a trip to Blue Earth, a flat at the the turnaround point of a 20-mile ride (long run home), and a valve breaking in the middle of Minneapolis.
Some people might wonder why I ride so much if I encounter so many flats, and the answer simple: I'm not afraid to deal with them. It's a pain in the rear to change a flat -- especially if you've got some place to be at a certain time -- but to avoid riding because of it is idiot's logic. By that reasoning, you shouldn't drive your car either because you might have to fix a flat.
I bring this up because I encountered my first flat of on my way to the mall yesterday (more specifically Barnes & Noble). It occurred on Adams Street about a block shy of the BioLife Plasma Center, which meant I was about half a mile from the mall.
Taken at face value, this doesn't seem like a bad place to encounter a flat, what with Scheel's being in the mall and all. But being the prepared cyclist that I am, I happened to have a patch kit and air pump with me and decided to fix the flat right there and then. After a few tire lever struggles, a lot of grease and a little swearing, my bike was right for riding again.
This worked out fine for getting to mall. I locked my bike up, read for a couple hours at Barnes & Noble, and the tire was still inflated when I left the mall.
But on the way home, guess what happened? Another flat.
This time, while removing the tube, I determined that there was a small hole in the tire itself (for terminology's sake, the tube is the inner part of the tire with air in it, and the tire is the outer shell). Even if I had replaced the tube, the tire likely would've gone flat again shortly, as a hole in the outer shell makes the tube more susceptible to rocks,glass and whatever else is on the road.
Luckily, the flat occurred about five blocks from my apartment. So the walk home was relatively short. However, in order to get my bike in working condition again, I was going to have to (gasp!) drive to a bike shop to get a new tire.
Since I'm currently trying to run/bike more miles than I drive in my car for a month (blog entry here plus you can view my monthly totals on the right-hand side of the blog), I'm obviously reluctant to use my car unless it's absolutely necessary. But I really didn't have much of a choice, unless I wanted to walk it the 4+ miles to Scheel's (the only bike shop in town that's open on Sundays).
Had I not been so adamant about fixing the initial flat myself, I could've walked over the Scheel's while at the mall, gotten my bike fixed and saved the car trip -- a trip I had to make a hours later anyway.
Oh well, I guess hindsight's 20/20.
As a reference point, here is a pretty decent YouTube video on how to change a flat tire on a bike.

One Simply Cannot Get the Staff

Do not entrust the making of tea to servants

This is taken from a very old Victorian recipe book. It made me smile.

Blend your teas thoroughly well and keep in a closed tin in a dry place.

Do not entrust the making of this (or any other tea) to servants. The scalding of the teapot and making of tea with freshly boiling water are essential: and this is what servants usually ignore.

Water that has been boiling some time will not "draw" tea properly: much less so, water that "has boiled" which is too frequently made use of by servants.



Hints on Food Storage:

It is essential that all store-provisions should be kept covered otherwise they accumulate dust and germs, and become unfit for use, even though they may appear so.





This is a fact which no servant can get into her head, and which requires constant attention.