Monster Gramma (or, Holy Cow, Camels!)

This is a long post that has been rattling around my hard drive and Blogger since we returned Memorial day.

Me darlin' Mrs and I left for a long weekend of hiking and camping in 5 Southwestern Minnesota State Parks: Myre/Big Island, Lake Louise, Forrestville/Mystery Cave, Beaver Creek Valley and Great River Bluffs.

We both took a half day on Friday and after the customary panicked rush to find, pack, lose, forget, find, pack and forget the necessary gear, we managed to load most/all/too much stuff, the dog and ourselves into the car for the trip to Myre for the first night and our first six miles of the planned twenty miles of hiking. Gasoline has become something that we don't buy often, so we decided to see if we could stretch our mileage in the Forester by not pushing it -- we basically kept it to around 60 mph -- on the freeway. Once you get past the idea of getting passed, you can start to calm down even in traffic. We probably had our share of curses hurled our way, but we didn't care. Overall, we managed to add 2-3 mpg by not driving fast -- saving us about two gallons per tank.

More...

We arrived at the park and set up camp. We have done this enough that we can have a reasonable campsite up in about 30-45 minutes depending on the conditions. From there we had had a snack an decided to hit the trail -- a trail that is not that well marked, as we would regret later. We walked the island loop and admired the spring flowers; wood anemone, prairie phlox and the occasional strawberry. The trail then leads you on the road that connects the island to the rest of the park and we saw a rather large fish jump as we passed. Impressive. You then take a roundabout way to the Blazing Star State Trail. Had I the sense to listen to Mrs Yam, we would have been finished the walk in under four hours, but I didn't. I insisted that there is no connecting sign and that we should go back and walk through the campground. We did. Then we walked through the other campground, and then south to the lake, and after about a half hour, we finally found a Hiking Club sign, but we were going the opposite way. So, there isn't a right or wrong way to hike 'em, so we pushed on.

We walked through the hills and sloughs just east of I-35 and saw a whole pile of critters; turtles, a raccoon, herons, ducks and all manner of other birds. The air was filled with the songs of Wrens, Red-winged Blackbirds, Meadowlarks, Bluebirds, Orioles and Cardinals. It was gorgeous -- I'd never heard anything like that in my life. Go and experience it for yourself, it's really quite amazing. We finally reached the word sign and we found that we were closer to I-35 than we were to our camp. I was starting to bonk since in the panic of preparing to leave, we didn't eat lunch and our snack was long gone. But there was little we could do but soldier on and hike the two plus miles back to the tent as the sun was starting to fall behind the trees. A quick meal of shrimp and peppers and then bedtime.

We got up early Saturday morning and broke camp quickly since we wanted to get to Beaver Creek Valley as soon as possible in hopes that we may still get one of the non-reserved campsites. All of the state parks were full and so we hoped we could get one before the hordes from the Cities descended and took the remaining campsites. If we had any luck, we'd set up camp for the next two nights and go back and hike Lake Louise and Forestville in the afternoon. We set out on I-90 and headed east. We're really not Interstate people, I'm not in any hurry and I hate the rushing and the lack of scenery. With that in mind, I got us off as soon as it made sense and that was when we hit State Highway 16.

Highway 16 is also known as the Historic Bluff Country Scenic Byway. Neat farms greet you as you leave the freeway and also the first of many surprises on this road -- camels! What appeared to be young Bactrian camels were lounging in the meadow near a farmhouse. This was just outside of the town of Grand Meadow, MN, a little town that looks like most of the other towns in this area; Scandinavian-named stores and restaurants, houses with neat yards and the implement and Co-ops you'd expect for an agricultural area. But this one has a high school you really have to see to believe. Just past town was a field of power generating windmills. Camels, Dome schools, windmills -- this road has everything and we're only about ten miles in...

As we headed east, the terrain started to become more and more hilly. A bit of geography here; this is part of the "driftless area" of Minnesota. The glaciers that carved so much of our current geography never reached this far south. That is not to say that their presence wasn't felt -- quite the contrary -- this area is filled with valleys that were carved by the massive melt water runoff from the glaciers. You look south from I90 and you see a relatively flat plain with small, gently rolling hills. If you look carefully though, you'll see the tops of trees where bushes should be. The valleys are somewhere between 200-300 deep and you'll see maples and ash trees on the Mississippi side of the area where the great Eastern Hardwood forests end or oaks in the west where the prairie and oak savannas begin.

By the time that we picket up US52 just outside of Preston, the valleys were well defined and the views were truly magnificent. Tree-covered sides and a valley that are dotted with farms and horse and cattle ranges. We followed US52 south through Harmony and the heart of Minnesota Amish country. And yes, we did see famous horse-drawn buggies. You can tell the Amish farms from the surrounding "English" ones because the lack of powerlines, trucks, combines, etc. and the tell-tale red barns. You could also see the wear and tear on the shoulder of the roads. I wonder what it would be like to bike through this country. If the wind didn't get ya, the hills would, but the traffic would be accustomed to slow moving vehicles on the side of the road. Be careful of the horse exhaust and I guess it would be fun to try.

The views continued to be spectacular all the way to Caledonia where the Beaver Creek Valley park is. We pulled into the park and managed to get one of the three remaining sites. Whew, Mrs Yam is nobody's dummy. Good call, hon. As you can probably gather from the name, the park lies at the bottom of a valley and this makes for a unique park in that you don't have the typical loops with campsites, but the sites run along the valley along the road. This is nice in that you don't have a lot of neighbors and if you're lucky (and we were), you'll get a spot along the creek. We had the pleasure of our own babbling brook to sing us to sleep for the next couple of nights.

The car was emptied again and the tent went up. Mrs Yam inflated the mattress (a new and very welcom addition to the gear) and promptly decided to have a nap. I fire up the stove (another new addition) and cooked a breakfast of oatmeal and coffee. Trouble is -- we had no coffee cups. After pouting a moment or two, I looked in the car and decided I could fashion a mug out of some of the pop cans that were in there. I used one to make the base and handle and I cut the top off of a second and rolled the top over so as not to rip my lips on the jagged edges. That worked pretty well and would be my mug for the weekend.

Me Mrs awoke, we ate and headed out back Lake Louise. We swung way south to avoid the way we came in and saw more farms, but there was less up and down and more simple rolling hills. We made it to Le Roy, Minnesota where Lake Louise State Park is, but it took us a while to find the entrance as my GPS didn't show it accurately (it is really a collections of areas along a creek that are barely connected and not the big area that is displayed on a GPS or Google maps. After finally finding the parking lot, we started out on the Hiking Club trail and we weren't a half mile in when Sheila decided she didn't like the smell of the flea/tick collar and rolled in a pile of fresh horse shit. Great, but this would portend our entire hike here, much to our dismay. It's a small park that has a lot horse trails (we'd already noted that) and there isn't much in the line of scenery: there's no hills, no prairie, just this area that looked like reclaimed farmland with some small stands of trees and none of the birds or wildlife of Myre-Big Island. In fact, this turned out to be a park similar to Split Rock Creek in Western Minnesota: a dammed up creek with a little lake with campgrounds around it. Bleah.

After getting closer and closer to the end of the hike without finding the word sign (the only redeeming thing I could imagine from this dumpy park), I started getting really crabby. Between the stinking dog, the dull walk and the fact that I was convinced that there was no word sign, I worked myself into quite a grump. We made it back to the car and I washed off the dog in the bathroom and decided to get us the hell out. I didn't want to have to come back to this place just for the freakin' word.

I think that I'm starting to take the Hiking Club a bit too seriously.

We made it to Forestville and I talked to the Ranger there and told him that there wasn't a sign at Lake Looser. He told me that it's still getting made and they'll have it installed in a week or two. I wasn't keen on returning and showed him the tracks from the GPS. He agreed that I did walk it and told me the word. Success! He then assured me that the word sign was indeed installed and we should have no trouble getting to it along the trail. I took a map and headed out. Oh goody, another horse camp. We were beginning to tire of walking in horse shit. Fer cryin' out loud, could you get hiking trails away from the horse trails? Is that too much to ask? At least we were back in the valleys and the scenery was back. Hilly, wooded terrain and a short walk restored our spirits and we got our word and headed back east to Caledonia.

We headed back the way that we came, but with the sun running down and the differing colors and shadows showed us a completely different drive that we had eight hours earlier. Lighting really is everything in landscapes, isn't it? We made it to Spring Grove and it was close to eight PM. We decided to stop and get some cold beer since we weren't sure when the liquor stores closed. Good thing we stopped -- it is eight. We walked into the bar/liquor store and I saw the nightmare of every beer geek six coolers and nothing that is worth it. Four coolers full of Bud/Bud Light in various containers, Miller Lite, a small collection other Miller products and that's about it. EEEK! I settled on a twelve of PBR (tolerable) and Mrs picked up a small bottle of vodka. This is where it gets interesting: Spring Grove makes their own soda. We saw that there was a six pack of Lemon Sour, but the lady at the counter told us that it's really only there for bar to use as a mixer and that we could get it for half of what they charged at the local convenience store. Thanks, lady.

We got a six of the lemon sour and headed to our campsite. Started a fire and made a simple dinner of sausages and bbq beans. That lemon sour and vodka was just what we needed to rinse the Lake Looser debacle from our minds and we went to bed exhausted and content.

Sunday found us with a burning desire to not drive anywhere. Beaver Creek Valley has a six mile hike and that was enough for the day. Lounging around the site, splashing in the creek and eating breakfast was what we really wanted to do. We had eggs and leftover beans and sausages for breakfast, served up with another utensil constructed from pop cans. I've gotta work on our camping gear collection. On a return trip from the bathroom, me Mrs. ran into some of the kids in the park running around. One of them looked up and yelled, "It's Monster Gramma and she's coming to get us!" My darling has a new nickname! Monster Gramma, I like that.

We walked the trail which basically runs the length of the park. On the southern end, you go up the hill and back down, walk along the park road to the north end and then up the valley wall from the Park office. This is one of the most beautiful walks we've done in any of the parks we've walked. The slope is a gentle uphill and as you climb, you can see wildflowers, butterflies and birds everywhere. The heady mix of warm sunshine, flowers and, well, life, was overwhelming. There are times I wish I could have seen Minnesota 200 years ago, to see the prairies before farms, the forests before the loggers and rivers and lakes before cabins and lake homes. To see such unspoiled vistas makes me sad. Sad that I didn't do this before now. Sad that less and less people go to parks. Sad that a generation of kids don't have someone nagging them to go outside and play. Mom's working and they're in the basement with their screen time and virtual friends. Sad that if someone manages to drag them to this, that they are unable to appreciate it. There is something to quiet, to nature, to peace that I fear that may be completely lost soon.

Where Lake Louise is a sad and dull park, Beaver Creek Valley is quite the opposite. The walk down from the side of the valley leads you along the creek with more birds and flowers. Sheila is an older dog (about 10 years) and she had been gamely walking along with us, but she's a lot slower than she once was. She still is determined to smell everything, but it was getting humid and hot and this stretch in the woods with the creek was just what she needed; the path was entwined by the creek with many crossings and each ford was met with enthusiastic splashing and several gulps of water.

The path then hit a meadow. This sun-drenched acre was buzzing with more of everything that we had seen. It went up to eleven. We stopped and just stared -- the hazy sunshine gave this field an aura, an otherworldly shimmer. I lack the ability to describe it. I'm sorry.

We followed the trail around the edge of the meadow and back to our campsite, making sure to stop and splash in the creek as demanded by the dog. When we returned camp side, we decided that the makeshift tools were just not cutting it, so a trip into town was in order. We found a store that carried what we needed and then drove around Caledonia. On the way back to the park, we could feel the humidity rising and see the clouds in the west and guessed that a storm was brewing. For our last evening's dinner, we started pot roast. As we were preparing dinner, the Park Ranger drove by letting us know that there was a Severe Thunderstorm Warning for the area. If we're camping, we're gonna get rained on, it happens every time so we don't make a big deal about it any more.

As we cooked, the cars leaving the park went from a trickle to an almost roaring torrent. Nobody seemed to break camp, they just got in their vehicles and left. Weird. First, we felt the drops then the thunder. No lighting, so no worries. The rain started coming down a little heavier and it shows who has the sense in the family when the dog gets up and goes into the tent while we continued to prepare dinner. We just put more pans over the grate to protect the fire. An occasional person would walk by and we'd exchange greetings and an snort of disgust at the cowards. It's just rain, right?

We weren't concerned because the sky never took on the color of a Severe Thunderstorm -- this was just plain ol' rain and I guessed that we'd have sun in less than an hour. We just got rained on, and after three days of hiking in the sun and no showers, frankly it felt really, really good. The fire kept going, so we did too. Ten minutes of heavy rain and the thunder and lightning died down and the rain soon followed. The sun then chased the clouds away and those folks that left were treated to a foggy return. One returning family rolled down the window claimed that we were "really hardcore." Yeah, perhaps we are. Or dumb. My bet is on dumb.

We ate and then drank beers and vodka sours around the fire and dried out. Reeking of smoke, we headed into bed and after wrestling the dog out of here spot, we finally went to sleep.

We broke camp Monday, packed up and headed up the road to Great River Bluffs State park for the last of the hikes, which was nice as we were getting tired and the look the dog gave us as we got out for the trail said pretty much everything we were already thinking. The day was sunny and hot and Sheila wasn't happy, but she went anyway with even slower gait than the day before. This is a pleasant enough hike and the hillside prairie is pretty neat and you stay up on the top of the bluff until you get to the end of the trail. There you get a marvelous view of the river valley. After finishing, we headed to Winona and then changed our plans. We decided to go up the Wisconsin side of the river instead of US61. This was a nice drive except for the freakin' Harleys. God, I hate those motorcycles and the assholes that ride them. Hours of listening to masses of asses and their fuckin' straight pipes. I would impale the lot of 'em on their mufflers if I could. Get a real bike, dummy.

We made it to Prescott and crossed the St. Croix and avoided the bridge out in Hastings. On our travels north, the clouds moved in and the temperature dropped by like 20 degrees, but that felt good. We shattered our good feelings by traveling on high speed roads, but it was good to get out of the car and take a shower. A Thai pizza at Galactic Pizza and then back home to bed. All in all, a marvelous weekend.

Book tag...

Okay, Scott tagged me to post whatever book is closest and copy sentences 6-8 on page 123. I'll play...

Well, hang on. The nearest book to me right now is Building Internet Firewalls and I don't think that is really worth boring y'all about it. So in the spirit of the rule (not the law), I'll grab what's on my bedstand at the moment: The Omnivore's Dilemma by Michal Pollan.

We think of grass as soft and hospitable stuff, but once it's been dried in the sun and shredded by machines -- once it's become hay - grass is sharp enough to draw blood and dusty enough to thicken lungs. I was covered in chaff, my forearms tattooed red with its pinpricks.
The others -- Joel Salatin, whose farm this was; his grown son, Daniel; and two helpers -- had gone off to the barn for something, leaving me with a welcome moment in the pasture to gather myself before we cranked up the baler again.

Certainly more interesting than:

A screening router is an appropriate firewall for a situation where:
- The network being protected already has a high level of host security.
- The number of protocols being used is limited, and the protocols themselves are straightforward.
- You require maximum performance and redundancy.

Tag time:
Rob
George
Ray
Jeanne
Jim

Spring

If one were to visit Minneapolis right now, it could be understood why someone would want to live here. May is one of my favorite months to be a Minnesotan. The bugs haven't really arrived (save the Noseeums around the Lakes), the days are clear and warm, the nights are starlit and cool and the perfume of crabapple trees and flowers fill the air. This is a magical time to live here and even better to bike. The heady scent of plant sex fills my commute and my yard is redolent with the blossoms of plum and pear trees.

It is when this occurs, me lovely Mrs and I get the garden ready. A trip to the garden center, some quality time with a rented tiller (ask me about my arms and back some time) and the planting begins. We here at the Yam household enjoy cooking, and cooking with fresh herbs is the greatest treasure of all. I have a lovely herb garden that gets sun and heat, so all Summer long, we get the best of basil (Greek, Sweet and Holy), oregano, sage, thyme, marjoram, savory, rosemary and more lives happily under the kitchen window. What sweet toil it is to hoe this garden as the plants give up their scent as the tool nicks a leaf and to pick fresh herbs for dinners, lunches and, especially, weekend brunches.

Last year's refuse is turned into compost and makes this year's tomatoes and peppers. Heirloom tomatoes have turned into a passion for the Mrs and me and the nine types we've planted will be about the only joy I can summon during the miserable months of July and August. I'm glad they're good for something...

I've added a couple of new peppers to the mix this year; the Bhut Jolokia and it's equally devastating cousin, the Dorset Jolokia. Also, a Tobagan pepper called "7 pot" (due to it's ability to heat up 7 pots of stew) and some not so hots for everyday food -- Jalapeno, Serrano, some sweets for grilling and some for sauce. We also planted cucumbers (I love cucumbers) and zucchini (because a freshly picked handful tossed on the grill is a great treat).

It's a bunch of work, but I don't mind. I love the smell of fresh dirt and good compost, the act of wrestling a tiller down the block from the hardware store to the garden, the sweet agony of tilling ever more dirt -- our goal is rid ourselves of grass completely -- and satisfaction of looking at gardens with sweet black dirt and new life and the promise of fresh produce in the upcoming months.

Twenty years ago, if I knew this is how I'd be, the young me would laugh at the current me. But, I guess that's fair since the current me laughs at the old me. Delighting in flowers and hard-won produce is worth it. I just wish I could have talked me into doing this a lot earlier.

You know, I don't mind getting older...

Bikin' to da Bar (Bike to work day radio mix)

Huh.

Oh, others were trying it? Good for them. We had two occasionals and a newbie. Newbie rode in on a LeMond Zurich he bought used. $800 -- yow. Where can I find a deal like that?

Biked to Town Hall after work in the most splendiferous of days we've had this year. Fought a headwind (surprise!) but I didn't mind. I felt strong and made most of the lights on the way up Park. The Greenway was SRO with every kind of bike you could imagine and a one you probably didn't. Some Dude was cruisin' east with a cruiser with apehangers and Maltese Cross rear view mirrors, multiple horns and bells and a trailer with his cat in it. Don't see that every day. Chatted with him and as I left was serenaded with a blast of horns and bells. A one-man-band-cycle...

Lots of bikes around Seven Corners tonight and everyone was in a good mood -- cars, buses, bikes, bladers, etc. Rode home in the gloaming back along the Greenway to Nicollet.

It's a good day to be in Minneapolis.

Your cultural notice of the week

Saturday night will bring the inspired lunacy and hilarious hijinks of the Asylum Street Spankers. Get your tickets at the Cedar Cultural Center. So, step out of your safe, focus-groupped cultural bubble and join me and mine at the Cedar on Saturday. Heck, if you find me, I may even buy ya a drink...

Happy customer

I've been biking almost constantly and I have a Banjo Brothers messenger bag as my glove box, trunk, back seat and front floor. It's been a companion pretty much since I've bought it and when it broke, I was heartbroken. Contacting the Banjos service department consisted of getting one of the Brothers themselves. "Mail it to this address and we'll fix it for you" was the reply. Since "this address" was on my way to Town Hall, I attempted to drop it off last Wednesday, but I was there after 5 PM and everyone was gone. I then stopped by yesterday and the fine folks at their warehouse made sure that one of the Banjos got it.

This morning I received an email that said that they fixed the strap and that they added a feature -- a D-ring to ease loosening the main strap. Nice touch. He then asked where to mail it, but when he found out that we're damn near neighbors, he said he'd drop it off at my house. Now, that's service. When I got home from work, my beloved bag was there, right as rain and there was a prize inside! I'm now an owner of a brand new medium seat bag. Now me darlin' Mrs has two Market Panniers and I have convinced my coworker to purchase one also (heck, I'll probably get a pair), so I was already a Banjo Bros. fan, but now after the service I received I guess I'm a, uh, super fan. Cleverly designed, well-built and now with a service that can't be beat.

They don't have the have the name like Crumpler or Chrome, but they don't have the price either. Plus, the designs are well thought out and eminently practical. If you are considering a new bag, you could do worse than check out the Banjos.

Thanks Eric and Co. You guys rock.

Bikin' to da bar (beer induced bonk edition)

Yesterday was a near-perfect day for biking. Cool, clear skies, the scent of re-emerging life, cheerful people on the roads as if there were some cease-fire called between the cyclists and the cagers, a wonderful day. Except for the freakin' headwind. A spirit-grinding, consistent curse for those heading north -- like me, your humble narrator. I left work and headed into it with a coworker who also commutes by bike and neither of us were pleased.

But, so it goes.

I stopped at a warehouse to see if I could drop off my Banjo Brothers bag. I blew the strap anchor and emailed their warranty department which apparently consists of the owners themselves. I received an email back from Eric saying to mail it in and they'll take care of it but I noticed that the address is right off of the Greenway by Hiawatha. How convenient is that? Unfortunately, I was unable to get there in time and no one was there, so
I struggled my way to 7 corners and Town Hall and started my evening off with a pint of their new Maibock. Nice, malty brew with a hoppy snap on the finish.

I didn't eat much breakfast as I wasn't hungry and I didn't eat much lunch, so why should I eat dinner? Beer is as good as bread, innit? Well, the beer and the fatigue from pushing against the wind put the zap on me and I found myself too bonked to ride home. Beers+bonk is a bad combination, kids. So, with hung head I called for a ride. Mrs Yam, ever the patient and loving savior, swooped in and carried me and bike home where I ate a little and then crashed completely.

It's impossible to parody these people

"Only poor people ride the bus..."

Huge increases in Metro Transit ridership for first quarter

More people rode Metro Transit buses and trains in the first quarter of 2008 than had in the same time frame over the last 20 years.

Some 19.2 million riders rode buses and trains the first three months of the year — up 1.3 million rides, and the most since 1984, according to a Metro Transit news release.

Metro Transit recorded ridership increases across all types of its service, paced by a 16.4 percent increase on the Hiawatha light-rail line. Three-month ridership was 2.1 million, the first time first-quarter ridership topped 2 million in the four-year history of light-rail service.

Locally, ridership was up 8.3 percent, and express bus ridership was up 4.3 percent.

Metro Transit officials said they are on track to meeting their goal of 78 million rides in 2008.

To make it easier to take the bus or train, Metro Transit implemented two new trip-planning features during the first quarter, enhancing online trip planners and adding maps.

Metro Transit, overseen by the Metropolitan Council, operates in metropolitan Minneapolis and St. Paul. For more information, go to www.metrotransit.org.

Is my neighborhood getting poorer? Considering the economic geniuses of the current administration, I suppose that could be so -- I'm not getting richer, that's for sure. Or could it be that people are sick of gas prices and getting around in other ways? A co-worker just traded in the Jeep for a new Ford Focus. He got tired of burning 4 gallons of gas a day to get to work.

Weekend off the bike

I don't what it is and it doesn't really matter, be it sinus infection, allergies or a cold, but I have been miserable lately. I'd write it off to allergies, but I have inflated sinuses and a pounding headache. But the itchy eyes tell me it isn't just a sinus thingy. And I'm sure the sore throat and cough are secondary ailments caused by whatever is bothering me.

Anyway, this toxic soup of misery has made any plans I have made worthless. Friday consisted of going home and sneezing and watching Rocky and Bullwinkle's Season 1 Disk 1 from Netflix. That lasted about an hour -- the jokes are really corny and the music and animation get on your nerves after a while. I'm going to cancel the rest of season 2 and the other disks that have been ordered.

Saturday started out nasty but turned into a nice enough day, but I just didn't have any steam for the HC ride. If you can't breathe, bicycling loses some of its charm. After the sun came out, we cleaned up the yard. Because, if you have allergies, molding leaves, decayed plant matter and dust are just what you need to set you right. Felt even crappier after that (but not as crappy as I thought I'd feel) and missed the blessing of the Maibock at Town Hall. Grilled a chicken instead and consoled myself with a pint or two out of a growler and went to bed early.

Sunday found me feeling better, so we went to hike and sightsee along the Minnesota River Valley. We took a nice drive to Fort Ridgely State Park and hiked there. Like the other parks along the river, this started out higher (it was a fort after all) and then took you down into the valley where a creek and the Minnesota River meet. A very nice 2.5 miler that was made even nicer by the gorgeous weather. We then followed the river back to the cities, stopping in St. Peter at the Co-op for lunch. We also got a stamp at Minnesota Valley where we hiked a year ago, but never found the mark for our "Passport."

Driving back up 169 was really unpleasant. After a day of country roads and no traffic, the speed, rudeness and general mayhem that is a freeway really jangles the nerves. I spent the day driving the speed limit, and in the Honda that means I get absolutely wonderful gas mileage. The 75 mph, bumper to bumper while completely surrounded by deepest, darkest suburbia's most repulsively titanic SUVs is not a good way to end a day. Well, I sorta can guess what the little furry mammal felt like, scurrying around the feet of the giant reptiles as the snow started to fall...

KSTP - Busted!

Their fearmongering may backfire.

Assholes. Aren't there any immigrants or cripples you can go and pick on?

Nice morning

Beautiful day for a ride. On the way in, I biked with someone heading to work at QBP and we discussed wheels until I had to peel away to the office. Ride on, QBP guy, ride on.

Stole the quote on the title from Matt as it makes sense. This was Cheney before he was completely subsumed by the Dark Side, I guess. Just when he was a little bit evil.

Another addition to the stable

Finally tuned up and shoed the third bike, a late 90s Specialized Expedition Elite. My goodness, it's a tiny bike compared to the couple I've been riding lately. It feels like a BMX and I'm not used to the geometry any more -- I spent a lot of the commute adjusting the saddle and trying to find a comfortable position.

One nice thing is that it's really quiet. I put on a new pair of Ritchey Tom Slicks on it and there is no rolling noise at all. It was kinda fun to sneak up on people walking their dogs and watch them jump as I passed. No that I was close, they just didn't have any idea that I was there.

As quiet as it is, I'm not sure what I'm going to do with this bike; I don't think it's sturdy enough to be a full-fledged mountain bike and it's too small to be ridden any distance, but I've got fenders and a good rack on it, so I may use it as a commuter in crappy weather and a grocery-getter.

Has anyone ridden one of these off road? Am I wrong to assume it couldn't be a MTB? I may sell it if I can't find a use/get comfortable on it.

HC ride

Got up to do the HC ride today -- I had a late start and hustled so I wouldn't miss it. It helped to have the wind at my back. As I came down the hill to the shop, I began to think that I had missed everyone. Not a single bike in front of the store, nor was any biker visible in any direction.

I was too late. Pedalled around looking to see if I could spot a mass of riders when Jim popped out of the store. I didn't miss it. We hung around waiting for any other hearty souls -- and one other, Bob, rode up. Three is good.

We decided to ride into the wind so that it would be at our backs on the way home. We pushed out for Nokomis Beach coffee shop all the way out on 50th and 28th. Pastries and coffee were consumed. That place was hopping, but I don't think that people love the place for its brew -- it tasted burnt. We then forged on to the north and west to look at them take down the 46th street bridge and to another coffee stop on 33rd and Bryant, Urban Bean.

Coasted downhill with the wind at our backs towards the shop. Bob peeled off at the parkway and Jim and I carried on. We rode through throngs of runners. Nasty little beasties...

The ride home sucked as the wind had really picked up and I rode into the teeth of it. I kept a blistering 12mph pace and arrived home utterly spent and bonked. I should have had a pastry at Urban Bean after all...

Bikin' to da bar (I could've biked all night edition)

Rode from work to Town Hall on an absolutely gorgeous evening. The wind decided to be nice and come from the south-southwest and it was quite a pleasant change from last week's against the wind there, against the wind back ride.

I typically ride up Oakland instead of Park since the lights are timed for cars and I usually manage to hit every red light along the way, making Park a less than desirable route. Oakland has stop signs every block, but who cares? This time, with the wind at my back I flew along quite nicely up to the Greenway and to Seven Corners. I feel that my legs and lungs are getting better because I felt strong on hills as well as the flats.

Tipped some nice beers; they've the Dortmunder back on full time, their Patio Pale Ale is nice but it's designed for the masses (aka Bud and Miller drinkers), and one of my faves is back on -- Broken Paddle ESB. So, a good ride on a nice day and to be greeted by new, yummy beers. What a day.

Me darlin' Mrs was at a board meeting on the West Bank and when that ended she and the other members stopped for drinks at the new Acadia. I joined her there and then we biked home. My goodness, what an evening. The wind shifted so now it was coming from the north, the sky was clear and the temp was just perfect. We went down the Light Rail trail to the Greenway to Nicollet. Actually it dumps you out behind the K-Mart near Blaisdell. Mrs Yam is getting stronger too since she complained that we could go faster if I held my line. She actually said "hold your line."

Wow. I love that lady.

Now, in my defense I was avoiding potholes and dorking around since I'm used to the old Mrs Yam that isn't as fast as the new Mrs Yam. Once I learned the errors of my ways, we sped home quite nicely. The conditions were such that we could have spun all night. What a good day, good beers, good rides and my sweetie by my side. I was in love with everything that Minneapolis had to offer last night. I hope there are more nights like that...

Hopefully, y'all have a night like that too.

Baby steps

For first time in years, gasoline consumption is dropping

Yo, check it:

U.S. drivers are doing something they haven’t done for nearly two decades — consume less gasoline.

Gas consumption so far this year is down about 0.2 percent compared to last year, according to the Energy Information Administration. The federal agency is predicting that gasoline demand will be down 0.4 percent this summer and 0.3 percent for the year.

That may not sound like much, but it would be the first time since 1991 that there’s been a decline in annual gas consumption. And it would be only the eighth year since 1951 in which demand for gasoline has declined.

In a related item -- scored some Banjo Brothers Market Panniers for me Mrs. Biking to the Wedge will now make the entire experience completely Hippy-friendly...

Fox News

I had to work at our off-site data center tonight and they are blessed with TVs blaring Fox News. As I was leaving, some gasbag was questioning the patriotism of Barak Obama. He's a freakin' Senator from Illinois! Where does the line stop? At president? Or only Republicans patriotic if thery're President?

If you are questioning Obama's patriotism, aren't you questioning the patriotism of those from the great state of Illinois? And if you are questioning the patriotism of Illinois, do I have to sic Ray on your ass? He would happily kick it from where ever you are to Chicago and then hand you over to whomever he feels needs to kick it further.

Or stomp it thinner. Or shred it. Not my call.

If you are questioning Senator Obama's patriotism, shouldn't you examine Senator McCain's patriotism? He was the one who spent years in loving arms of the Viet Cong. You want to talk about a Manchurian Candidate, look at the one that is the most possible candidate. I mean, he's the one that could have possibly been brainwashed by the Communists.

I'm not defending Obama nor am I questioning McCain, but I think that this line of questioning should be laughed off television and the fat bastard that brought it up beaten as he richly deserves. These are SENATORS OF THIS COUNTRY and their patriotism is beyond question.

God, I'm glad I don't have cable. I'd shoot people if I did. TV people.

Today

Streetsweeper
Streetsweeper

Dump truck blocking my street

Dad and kids waiting for the bus

The bus

Driver waves me through intersection

Perfectly timed green light

3 waiting for the city bus

Bike commuter doesn't respond to "Good Morning" -- jerk

Run the STOP sign (times three)

Look at the flags pointing the way to work -- thanks!

Someone gets bacon this morning

Kids screaming happily in the park

Another perfectly timed green light

Swoop downhill

Bash uphill

Swoop down the other side.

See another bike commuter -- too far ahead to say anything

Couple raking leaves -- he makes very pregnant wife carry the bag

Good, fresh tar road -- no road noise

Wave at mom and daughter walking along the street

Wait for wad of traffic to pass

Pass the wad of traffic stopped at light

Big left into the parking lot

Stare at the big crane taking something off of the office building roof

Go inside to work

Good day to ride.

Not manly enough for Jabba the Mook

Not that fighting a headwind wasn't enough, but I believe that my sexual orientation and/or manhood (as this is a general-purpose insult from this type, I can't be sure) has been called into question by a motorist.

What a way to start a morning.

Going block by block with traffic and meeting the same vehicles at each intersection, I stopped alongside a giant diesel pickup. I look at the driver -- a charming, 300 pound plus sack of mayonnaise -- as he's stuffing what looks to be by the wreckage on the dash, his second breakfast burrito into a hole in his doughy head. I give him a "Good morning." He looks as me and belches out a "Fag" amidst a shotgun blast of barely chewed tortilla, egg, cheese and sausage. He then stuffs his 60 ounce soft drink above his quivering chins and roars away.

Why is it that all of the epithets that hurled by passing motorists that I've heard, "Fag" is the most common? Is it easy to say? Are you mad at me for reminding you of your physical inabilities/inadequacies? Does my ability to keep up with traffic or his having to drive behind me frustrate you? Does he hate himself for getting hot because he's looking at my ass as I stay ahead of him and his oh-so-manly giant pickup? Is there some impression that bicycling is an exclusive activity of gay men? Did he think I was hitting on him? Was he mad that I wasn't?

It is sad I'll never get to ask him.

The cool kids

Rode with the HC krew yesterday and met some of my blogging heroes: Lunatic, Midway, Rigtenzin, Snakebite and Velocipete along with other riders who may or may not blog. They didn't even beat me up and take my lunch money, though it appears that they (Jim) saved his animosity for his mom whom he dropped on the first hill and never looked back.

I bet he yelled at her about being late to the shop too...

Don't be this guy (part the second)

Rep Patrick McHenry (R-NC) is at it again. Last we heard from Gomer, he was belittling bicycles. Now our intrepid hero is bad-mouthing security guards in the Green Zone in Iraq because they inconvenienced him.

I suppose we'll hear from him again after he runs down a disabled veteran in a crosswalk who was unfortunate enough to be there when Rep. McHenry wanted to turn right...

Don't be this guy.

Anyone missing a pet?

Happy Easter

Which superhero are you?

Wandering links from everyday blogs to unknown ones brings up this:

Your results:
You are Iron Man

Iron Man 75% Spider-Man 65% Superman 60% Green Lantern 55% Robin 50% Hulk 50% Catwoman 45% Supergirl 40% The Flash 40% Wonder Woman 25% Batman 10%

Inventor. Businessman. Genius.

Click here to take the Superhero Personality Quiz

It's big bike day...

...at the Strib! Our local fishwrap has a two-wheeled fit today it seems.

See our man Big Dummy.

Also, our man Large Fella gets a profile.

I suck less

Rode the Red Menace (the wobbly Schwinn) to Weight Watchers and then to my sister-in-law's house to drop off some 80s music for her. Going up the hills from 66th to 46th on Lyndale sucked, but less than it used to. I think that Me Darlin' Mrs is right about the getting better part.

Today's ride was nothing like the one last week with Scott, i.e., it wasn't warm, sunny or pleasant. But I'm happy to say, that the Bleriot rides like a dream and I look forward to riding it when the roads are better. Until then, I'm pushing the cruddy bike. It's good training though.

It's 3-speed's fault...

He posted this.

I post this.

Could the Gub'ment get it?

Congressman Earl Blumenauer (D OR) along with Congressman Jim Oberstar (D-MN) introduce H. Con. Res 305: Recognizing the importance of bicycling in transportation and recreation.

Recognizing the importance of bicycling in transportation and recreation.

Whereas a national transportation system conducive to bicycling produces enriched health, reduced traffic congestion and air pollution, economic vitality, and an overall improved quality of living is valuable for the Nation;

Whereas by dramatically increasing levels of bicycling in United States cities tangible and intangible benefits to the quality of life for cities and towns across the country will be realized;

Whereas we now live in a Nation with 300 million people, and that number is expected to grow to 365 million by 2030 and to 420 million by 2050 with the vast majority of that growth occurring in urban areas with limited ability to accommodate increased motor vehicle travel;

Whereas since 1980, the number of miles Americans drive has grown 3 times faster than the United States population, and almost twice as fast as vehicle registrations;

Whereas one-third of the current population does not drive due to age, disability, ineligibility, economic circumstances, or personal choice;

Whereas the United States is challenged by an obesity epidemic, 65 percent of United States adults are either overweight or obese, and 13 percent of children and adolescents are overweight, due in large part to a lack of regular activity;

Whereas the Center for Disease Control estimates that if all physically inactive Americans became active, we would save $77 billion in annual medical costs;

Read the whole thing. Ride yer bike.

Don't be this guy.

Momentum magazine covers the Minneapolis bike scene

Stolen from Momentum Magazine

Momentum magazine, the Canadian cycling magazine from Vancouver, has a new issue out and one of the articles talks to 5 Minneapolitans about cycling here.

Check it out. Also showing up as a dead tree version at a LBS near you sometime soon.

A newly minted junior wheelsmith

I dragged my sorry carcass to HCHQ for the wheel building class on the wobbly Schwinn. I just rode out there without knowing the temperature and that is the way to do it. Just go, don't think about it. If I had known that it was FIVE FREAKIN' BELOW, I wouldn't have bothered. I would have eaten breakfast and driven instead.

But, I left the house after a banana and hustled to class. Five others and I learned the dark secrets of bicycles wheels from High Priest Jim. I didn't know that the tools of the smithy were rum, cigars and chickens, but that's how it is.

Really.

Sheldon Brown in my Copilot

Or at least ground crew chief.

I finally got around to rebuilding the wheel that potato chipped on me back in January. No, I haven't been riding, I'm a sad and weak man. But I did build my own wheel for the first time and I used the guide from Sheldon's site. What a great guide it is, too. I followed the instructions and, sure as shootin', I had a wheel. I have a truing stand but I needed to find a dish stick (gauge, tool, whatever) and the fine and always helpful folks at the HCHQ lent me one. Thanks guys.

It's still not dished properly, but I sorta like it this way. It made me jigger the rear brakes, but I have a pretty good chainline and it does work. I think I feel a wobble, but I can't find it by using a truing stand so I suspect that it is complaining about my sizeable hinder and I need to check the spoke tension I think -- I'm still new at this whole building wheels thing. This is why I am also attending HCHQ's wheel building class this Saturday. I hope to learn how to do this from master wheelsmithys Jim and Kevin. Perhaps I'll see ya there. According to their blog the class is full. Nice to see.

So, anyways, I took the wheel, along with the rest of the bike, for a spin to see how it rides. Again, I noticed a bit of a wobble, but I really noticed that I suck right now at riding. I've got the the bike as a single speed with 46/18 and the climb up 54th to Lyndale damn near killed me. I was riding on the middle chainring previously, so this gearing took me by surprise. I wheezed my way up it and continued on the Parkway and around Harriet and back.

Man, I suck. I could complain about big, studded tires not rolling well. Or that the snow makes it harder to pedal. Or the gearing. That's whining. I just suck. Me darlin' Mrs assures me that it will come back and that I'll be back in less time than it took to get into that shape the first time.

I don't feel like waiting a year...

But, to quote Eddy Merckx: "Ride your bike. Lots." Or Scott: "Keep Ridin'...Always." So, I will.

End of an era

Saturday was my last shift at the liquor store. I had a good run and I enjoyed the work (mostly), but I need my weekends more than I need the 50 bucks I'd make. Things are busy at my day job and I've been feeling burnt out. My vacation awakened me, refreshed me and allowed me to see that there is more than just working.

I've had fun and it is fun to introduce people to something other than the same old same old. Having someone come back and say that they enjoyed a suggestion is satisfying. I worked with good people and I'll miss them. Sorta. I'll still shop there since Eric is working to get really interesting beers in there every week and I have to see what he manages to bring in. If you like beer, go and look over the selection -- it's not huge, he doesn't get much room to work with -- but it's a fun collection. I don't think he stocks enough Pilsners, but he's not a Pilsner drinker and it's his choice. If you like Belgians and hearty ales (Porters and Stouts), you should check it out.

Anyway, I'm looking forward to more riding time, camping time, canoeing time, dog park time and grilling time. More me time. And, now that I'm not working Friday nights, I can join the HC rides Saturday mornings.

Now I just have to get my lungs and legs back. I know I left 'em around here, somewhere. Maybe they're next to OB's fresh legs...

How do you get an American's attention?

Hit him in the wallet.

LOS ANGELES - Los Angeles legal secretary James Eric Freedner got fed up with high gasoline prices.

He put his 2003 Toyota Tacoma truck in the garage and switched to a Honda Nighthawk motorcycle for weekday 6-mile commutes to Beverly Hills. He stopped driving to the beach on weekends and cut back on trips to check on properties he manages. He began grouping errands into one trip each Saturday.

The trade-offs Freedner has made in the last year haven't necessarily made him happy, but they've reduced his gasoline consumption nearly 50 percent. And although he admits to feeling jittery traveling freeways on the Nighthawk, all the changes are permanent, unless gas returns to $2.50 a gallon.

"The price was just eating up what I earned," said Freedner, 57. "This is the best thing I can do to make ends meet."

Get used the to motorcycle, dude. $2.50 a gallon gas is in tanks guarded by Dodos...

Americans are getting serious about using less gasoline, confounding some economists who have argued that most people can't reduce their driving much because they have to get to and from work and make those necessary trips such as shopping and chauffeuring their children around.

Lemme guess, you advise President CuckooBananas and Count Cheney, don't you?

The truth is more complicated, according to some energy experts: When the price reaches a certain threshold or the driving reaches a peak point of aggravation, people are willing to give up personal space and independence. "There is an awful lot of what might be called discretionary driving," said Edward Leamer, an economist at the University of California, Los Angeles. "Raise the price high enough, and you will see that there is a lot more that people can do."

For some, the next drop in prices won't be enough to send them back to their old driving habits.

"The trend will be toward more lasting conservation and longer-term savings if they are not just reacting to prices and have instead made a decision to change," said Bruce Bullock, executive director of the Maguire Energy Institute at Southern Methodist University in Dallas.

We Americans aren't a real quick bunch, but when we get it, we get it. The article goes on to say that Californians are using less gas (Californians?) by a combination of methods and then closes with this anecdote:

University of Southern California mathematics professor Kimra Haskell began bicycling to work six months ago.

She had many reasons. Sometimes she felt a shooting pain in her driving leg. She wanted to make a statement about the Iraq war and U.S. dependence on foreign oil. The California lifestyle of driving everywhere for everything -- even to exercise at a gym -- had left her too dependent on her aging 1993 Honda Accord.

The trial run was on a clunky old Schwinn mountain bike. On the return trip of the 26-mile ride, uphill, she was ready to abandon the bike by the side of the road. But she persevered, bought a sleek Italian Bianchi Volpe bicycle and is building up to cycling to work five days a week.

Gasoline prices were only part of the story, said Haskell, 43. "It was mainly the effects on my health, on the time it took out of my life, the stress of dealing with the traffic."

You don't have to be genius to see this, but it helps...

Dutchness

At the top of Mt Tabor - Batavus and Portland skyline

We rented Batavus "Old Dutch" bikes from Clever Cycle to get around Portland for a couple of days. The geometry of a Dutch bike is markedly different and is explained here. I have to admit, it feels weird.

You sit upright like you're sitting at a table and the handlebars curve back so that you impolitely put your elbows on that table. If you've worked a garden tiller before, you'll know where your arms and elbows are. Sitting upright and pedaling with your feet out in front doesn't give you great mechanical advantage, not like the bikes that you're used to riding. This is not a bad thing necessarily, I rather like the comfortable position and this along with the three speeds should get you around rather nicely on relatively flat ground.

But, Portland ain't flat.

There's no standing up for power. The handlebars are up and back so that the bike handles like a warehouse. The Batavus had coaster brakes and so there was no pedaling backwards to get your feet into position at a stop light. After a bit, you figure out how to position the pedals to get ready to go, but even on the second day, I found myself hobbled by the brake. So with the combination of the coaster brake and the different geometry, starting from a light while going uphill wasn't something I was really comfortable doing.

I eventually got to the point where I sat back and enjoyed the ride and that makes all the difference in the world. Instead of leaning forward riding like you normally do and fighting the bike, lean back and pedal. You're not gonna win any time trials, but that ain't the idea. Mrs. Yam never got the feel for these things and subsequently ended up hating the bike, which is too bad, her commute is flat and this would make a great conversation piece. We received a number of second looks and I had two compliments on it.

I don't regret renting them and the folks at Clever Cycle were really pleasant and you can tell they really believe in what they're doing. It's a great store with neat bikes and I recommend you stop in. They're happy to let you test ride and you really should, the collection is like nothing else I've ever seen.

R. I. P. Sheldon Brown

This is sad news.

Portland bound

...and not to the North American Handmade Bike Show since we'll be there a couple of weeks early.

Sigh.

Oh well, we'll just have to make sure that the beer y'all get is really, really super fresh 'cuz they just made it 'cuz they were out 'cuz we drank it all.

So there.

If anyone has any tips on things that we (MDM and I) just have to see, hear, smell, touch or taste, please drop me a line in the comments. Things you shouldn't bother to mention:

• Powell's


• Mt. Tabor


• Clever Cycles
  

Anything else is fair game. 'Specially beer. We're all over the beer. Oh, and coffee. And a good place to rent bikes since we're not going to rent a car.

I'll attempt to take pictures and/or blog if I figure out the computer situation -- I'm not really keen on lugging the work laptop (IBM A31) since it weighs about 900 pounds.

My political party

And opponents in this country also, Governor Huckabee...

No.

"I have opponents in this race who do not want to change the Constitution," Huckabee told a Michigan audience on Monday. "But I believe it's a lot easier to change the Constitution than it would be to change the word of the living god. And that's what we need to do -- to amend the Constitution so it's in God's standards rather than try to change God's standards so it lines up with some contemporary view."

It's now time that we bring back the term "Jesus Freak." The quaint notion that Evangelicals are, shucks, just a bunch of God fearin' 'murikans just like the rest of us has now been blown out of the water by a candidate. I have to admit I appreciate his honesty, but I do not appreciate his sentiment.

Not. One. Bit.

"When fascism comes to America, it will be wrapped in the flag and carrying the cross." - Sinclair Lewis

Destruction (and, hopefully, rebuilding)

Our bathroom is gone. We think we're getting another one in its place.

We hope we're right.

We're so happy...



Image stolen from Jim at Unholy Rouleur

Winter

A coworker asked me about winter for our company newsletter and here is my reply:

Winter survival comes in two fashions; hate it or deal with it. Hate it: pout, stay inside, watch TV and eat. Don't complain to me about being fat in the Spring, though. Deal with it: go outside and stare down Ol' Man Winter. Winter here has a beauty that you really need to see to appreciate, a silence and alien (to inside-folk) world that is really worth the trouble to venture into. So here's three things to consider about winter:

First thing is to dress for the weather, since there isn't any bad weather, just bad clothes. Real winter survival depends on you keeping yourself warm and dry. Wear a hat and good boots and keep moving and you'll be surprised how quickly you'll get warm. Keep sweat from staying next to your skin with wicking underwear ("base layers" to outdoor geeks). Wool is best, but polypropylene or silk work well too. Layers are the way to do it, with the last layer windproof. Keep it light because you may want to shed a layer after a while.

Second thing is to do something you like. I'm happy to be outside, so I don't care what I'm doing and I have a bunch of winter toys. You needn't go out and spend a bunch of money on gear or go all that far since Winter tends to have a wide delivery area. A walk in a regional or state park is cheap (free), sledding with kids, boot hockey or walking a dog are cheap too. Rent snowshoes -- they're great for going to hard to reach places and you'll probably get the hang of them in about 5 minutes. Heck, the hardest part of snowshoeing is putting them on followed by taking them off. You don't have to buy a bunch of stuff or go far

Last thing has to attitude. Yeah, yeah, yeah, you hate the cold, the dark, the snow, the whatever. Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD) is treated in lots of ways, but one of the most effective ways is exercise. And, right now, do you really want to go to the Gym with all the Resolutionists staring at themselves in their new work out clothes and iPods? Wait in line for a stair machine and try to read the closed captions of a show you don't really care about? A little fresh air won't kill you. You don't have to camp in the Boundary Waters for a week, just walk around your neighborhood. Work into it slowly, and you may possibly find out that those skiers and shoers aren't as crazy as you first thought…

Where a streak ends

Well, the streak ended quickly. I got up and dressed for a ride into work and found out that another spoke had broken on the Icebike. This is getting depressing -- am I so fat that bikes crumple underneath my ample arse? Or, was the over-exuberant curb hopping to avoid grumpy drivers on Lyndale at the choke point under Crosstown?

Either way, the wheel was potato-chipped and nigh unrideable. I bailed and caused the Mrs to bail too. At least we'll carpool, so it's one less car either way. I've still ridden to work more times than driven this week, and I hope that I can repair the spoke and keep it that way for tomorrow.

I have a rare weekend off from both jobs and when that happens, we take off for some far away corner of the state, but me Darlin' Mrs. came up with a great idea: let's act like tourists in our own town! What should we do?

Some ideas I have are to go outside -- biking, skiing, shoeing -- it matters not. Or a trip to the Russian Art Museum, because:

• it's something the Mrs wants to do


• it's something I've always wanted to do


• it's two freakin' blocks from my house

Also, go out for breakfast somewhere different. I'll take care of the lunch and dinner, but I like to have someone cook my breakfast. I"m not sure what else, so I'll happily take suggestions from the great Ether. And, no, I won't be going to the MOA.

Coldest commute yet

Unlike Doug, I'm not a winter commuter. I'm trying though and today was a real test. Radio alarm goes off and I immediately hear "and currently, it's minus four outside."

Gah.

Well, if you're gonna ride every day, you ride every day. So, I did and I'm glad. Nothing was cold except my big toe on my right foot (that's where I had tendon surgery a couple of years ago and it's never been much for the cold since), so I think I've got the clothing part right 'cept for the undershirt. This includes (taking a hint from Pete)

• Columbia under helmet hat with ear flaps. It's fleece with a windproof shell -- light and warm
• Fleece pants with windproof pants
• Fleece top with long-sleeved cotton t-shirt (dumb, I know, I know)
• Novara bicycling rain jacket
• Merino wool socks and Mukluks (short Ojibwa)
  

I don't have a balaclava since my beard works well and it's a lot of fun after a couple of minutes. It becomes completely frosted from my breath and turns white and people give me quite a look when I ride past. Ol' Man Winter, indeed...

Mrs and I went for a ride yesterday and she found out the beauty of studded tires, so now I need to get a pair for her. I knew that, but she had to make the call and after see the night and day difference, she called loud and clear. Time to pick up another pair.

The bike is really stiff to ride when it's this cold. I need to find a better lube (or maybe just use the stuff I have) so that things turn better and I'm not fighting the bearings and chain besides the snow, ice and traffic.

For Ray and the Mrs

Y'all were contemplating the worst thing your mother made. You mentioned liver.

My mother would dredge liver in Tang and flour and then fry it in onions.

Top that.

Bikin' to da bar (Winter Wonderland mix)

I took the Schwinn out for its shakedown cruise to see Jim and Kevin at HC to pick up a messenger bag and some lights. It felt so good to be back on the bike again that I didn't go home, but went to Town Hall. I haven't ridden a single speed since I was, what, ten or twelve years old. But the simplicity is a real asset when riding in the snow and slush of winter. That, and the Nokians. Studded tires are the shit. 'Nuff said.

It's geared really low (like 38/18), but I think that if I were to gear it up, the back tire would spin more. I also don't want to put any more money in this thing than I need to so I'll have to deal with it. I need to keep some sort of decent chainline and to use the outer chainring would be a bit too far of a stretch I fear. I'm going to pitch everything on this and probably turn it into an Xtracycle this summer, so it just has to get me through the winter. Truly, the definition of a winter beater...

I'm off from work this week, hence the blogging spew. I'm just cleaning the house, building a new server and working now and then at the liquor store plus a little freelance thuggery for Ray. It's nice to have a purpose...

Christmas Music

Christmas season has ended, or at least pretty much and with that comes the end of the &*!%*+=!$% Christmas music. I don't have anything against carols, but that's not what we play at the store. Instead we have the XM radio "Holiday" channel. Crimeney, every song celebrates the birth of Santa with Rudolph and the other wise men or some such thing. Look, call it the Christmas channel, I didn't hear any other seasonal song, so at least be honest fer crissakes.

One of the worst parts of that channel is the fact that I've heard rendition after rendition of "The Christmas Song." It's a maudlin piece at best (when Nat Cole tolerably sang it), but now every hack with a microphone covers it and each one more treacly and brain-dead than the last. It's like every goofball that picks up an electric guitar and plays "Stairway to Heaven." Stop. Just stop. It makes my head hurt to listen to some soul-patch sporting dork breathily wheeze that tired tidbit in a way that makes Johnny Mathis sound like GG Allin. Four or five covers of that turd an hour, that's gonna leave a mark. I would like to issue a Golden Hand Grenade to the winner of the suckiest version to James Taylor for his dirge-like rendition -- a moaning, lifeless cover that really shows me the Meaning Of Christmas. His limp bleating makes the death of a dear family pet more exciting than Christmas. To suck this bad takes a lot of work and he beats out such "talent" as Kenny G, whose painful, siren of a saxophone treats the song like my dog treats a beef rib.

Also, why is "Winter Wonderland" a Christmas song? There's nothing there about Christmas except snow. It snows in February, but it isn't played then. Christmas occurs in Australia in the bloody beginning of Summer. Hell, they play the shit out of that song before the Solstice, so it's not really winter either. I'm old enough (and Minnesotan enough) to remember the best cover of this one -- Casey Jones' Walking In My Winter Underwear. (Is there nothing that isn't on YouTube?)

"Frosty the Snowman" is another non-Christmas song that gets played at Christmas. Just because Rankin-Bass turned it into a cartoon doesn't mean it's Christmas. This is second in the list of the most overplayed "classics" I've been forced to enjoy. This is a stupid song and nothing else need be said about it.

Most annoying single rendition of a song goes to Mannheim Steamroller's "Deck the Halls." Mannheim Steamroller is for people who find the Boston Pops too challenging. Take the tympani and the synths and go away. Now. And take the Siberian whateverthehellthey'recalled with you.

I also hope that a special pit in Hell is reserved for the idiot that wrote "Jingle Bell Rock." My stomach immediately starts to flip at the sound of that guitar intro and I do my best to run for cover when that shows up. I hope you have footmen there -- everyone who's ever covered the miserable tune. The writers of "Siver Bells" and "Home for the Holidays" and anyone who covers them should have neighboring pits. With extra brimstone, please.

I could go on, but you probably have been in malls, restaurants, elevators, nursing homes, garages, etc and you've heard one or all of these gems. But anyone who works in retail knows how I feel and the Donut Guy is one of 'em. But, today, we're back to the same shitty, non-Christmas music.

And it's wonderful. Except for that really execrable song "You're Beautiful." I don't know if that's really the name of it, but since that phrase is repeated 700 fucking times, I'm gonna assume it is. That song should be banned. And the singer/songwriter forced to listen to James Taylor for eternity.

I'm glad there's only on New Years Eve song.

It's alive!

The Schwinn has been reborn as a single speed winter bike. I finally got the chain length right (it would keep throwing the chain) and then the front tube exploded. I decided to run with the front wheel off of the Specialized and remounted the Nokia. Took it for it's shakedown cruise around the neighborhood and I'm really impressed what those tires can do. I've got better traction on my bike than I have with my car!

I stopped by the new HCWHQ to get a tool to remove the rear cassette from the freewheel. Jim suggested that I get a single speed freewheel for it instead of building out a whole wheel and I went with that. A new set of tires and fenders for Mrs' bike (a very fetching silver that looks good with the blue bike) and the Yam household is fulled winterized in the bike department.

Of course, I've never really biked in the winter, so I have to get used to it and that is going to be the challenge. Biking in mashed potatoes is considerably different than the streets I've become used to. But, that's fun of it. I think I'm going to set a New Year's Resolution to get to work more with two wheels than four.

I need to ride more -- I can feel the holiday eats settling down for a long winter's nap around my waist. That, and the fact the we are taking a trip to Portland, Oregon at the end of January. We're not going to rent a car, we're renting bikes and taking public transit and I want to be able to get around without wheezing so much.

Liquor store observations (part the first)

1. When deciding what beer you want, close your mouth. You look like a retarded goldfish.
2. If I can smell your perfume in the cooler, you probably have too much on.
3. No, I don't have 40s of OE.
4. I haven't tasted most of the wine in the store and I don't want to.
5. No, I don't know which is the best White Zinfandel.
6. Next time, write down the wine you liked on a napkin. I don't know "the wine with the guy on it or something."
7. If you can't remember if is was Red or White, stop drinking completely.
8. Phillips makes the best cheap vodka in our store.
9. Kegs are, by nature, dirty things. Don't get mad if it makes a mess on your fancy leather upholstery. Bring a different car.
10. I'm going to card you. I carded you the last time you were in and I'm going to continue doing it. It's not my rule. Deal with it.

Baiku (for fritz)

Road salt stings my eyes
Truck strewn sand between my teeth
Sweet winter bike spice

Winter biking (now with more winter!)

It actually snowed here. In December. In appreciable amounts.

As a winter guy, I'm floored. The past winters have been cold but without snow. Dustings here and there, but we'd have nothing but frozen ground well past December. Snowshoeing was, ah, dull. Ten below zero Fahrenheit with no snow sucks wet, hairy moose rocks from a winter sports perspective. But now we have snow and it looks like it may hang around (knocks on wood).

As Minnesotans, one of the peculiarities is to go driving around when there are snow storms, so during Saturday's snowfall, the Mrs and I drove around. We ended up picking up a couple of biking-related things: warm things for hands and heads and a bike. I'm glad Mrs is open-minded and cheap. I've been looking for winter biking mitts or gloves or something, but after the disaster that the Novara Headwind gloves turned out to be, I figured I'd think out of the box and find better for a whole lot less. Bikers need to use their fingers or at least more of their hand than a mitten would allow, but gloves leave the fingers exposed. Lobster claws are a typical answer, but they're expensive. Sure, windproof, waterproof, lets the skin breathe, yadda, yadda, yadda, but to they really live up to the hype? Generally, no.

Enter the fond memories of childhood and my trips to the army surplus store downtown with my friends. I love the smell of old canvas and the weird and wonderful things that are there. Especially Trigger Finger Mittens. Ten bucks a pair, built like iron and have room enough to wear gloves underneath. Got a pair for me and the Mrs. She also found a Balaclava and I found some wool gloves. No more cold hands and faces.

Winter footwear seems to be a discussion topic among a lot of bikers, and I'm not joining in as I haven't really biked all that much in the snow. But I do have something that I'm gonna wear -- Mukluks. Moose hide and wool felt liners. I've snowshoed in these things for years and I've never had cold feet, so I figger that I'll try them on the bike.

Oh, the bike. Mrs' younger brother has been away from home living in Alaska and now San Diego, so he said take his bike. Early 90's Schwinn hybrid. It's a mess, but so what. It's a winter bike. I need to get it into working condition, but that's an easy evening of tinkering. I'll probably dig around to find a rack for it and some tires (if these aren't any good) and we'll take 'er from there. I can't really ride the Bleriot in these conditions, now can I? Much too nice for the slop, snow and salt of the next couple of months.

Besides, it's cheaper than getting new tires for the Honda, which handles like a penguin in molasses in snow.

Mrs Yam is harder than you are

I had today off (I guess it's a day off though I have to work at the liquor store tonight and I start my week long on-call shift) so while I and the dog were pulling some hard and fast ZZZZs, me darlin' Mrs biked to work. After her fingers thawed enough to type, I got an IM stating (in an exasperated and somewhat agitated tone) the temperature and her opinion of it. As this is a family-oriented blog, I'll leave the actual message received out and allow you think about it for yourselves.

There is a round-robin heated underground parking privileges where Mrs works, and her turn for a spot comes up next month. She passed it up, telling the office manager that she intends to bike throughout the winter. Freaked 'em out good, that did.

Rock on, hon.

Rock on.

Dead dog or Our Energy Future

(No dogs were harmed in the writing of this blog)

MDM and I left Black Friday for Western Minnesota and a couple of State Parks that we haven't yet hiked, in this case, the Upper Sioux Agency and Blue Mounds. We drove out on highway 212 to just about Granite Falls and then south to the Upper Sioux Agency park. This is a beautiful park where the Yellow Medicine and Minnesota River meet with bluffs from both rivers creating hills and valleys aplenty. This hike keeps you up on the bluff where the Agency once stood and then drops you down into the Minnesota River valley. Vistas of river bottom farms, old oak forests up the sides of the bluffs and the sloughs around the confluence of the two rivers make this quite scenic.

We were the only people at the park so we decided to leave Sheila off her leash and see how she behaved. Our faith in her was rewarded as she skipped in the tall grass and shuffled from behind us to ahead of us nose down. The hike is listed as 4.5 miles and I bet she must have gone six with her weaving on and off the trail and the back and forth chasing mice in the grass. We did leash her up as we descended to the river as there deer and we wanted to make sure that she stayed with us. I don't think that I can overcome several millenniums of hunter that has been ingrained into my sweet puppy.

After that, we took State Highway 23 (which reaches from Duluth in the Northeast to Southwest corner of the state where Minnesota, Iowa and South Dakota meet) through the Buffalo Ridge windmills. What a sight -- it was like looking at the future. Windmills turning as far as the eye could see, and in Western Minnesota that's a long way...

We made it to Blue Mounds and hiked on the top of the ridge between the buffalo range and the cliffs themselves. The wind was, ah, noticeable. It was chilly, but it didn't stop us from walking or the dog from a repeat performance of the up and back and the tall grass bounce. She caught the scent of a herd of deer, but they were a good 500 meters from us and they sprinted out of sight as soon as they saw her leap in the grass. As we made out from the Interpretive Center at the south end of the park, we came across a fresh deer carcass -- and I mean fresh. At first Sheila didn't quite figure out what she had there, but the nose told her what to do. She's really good and when we called her away from what was surely the most tempting thing she's seen in a long, long time, she reluctantly followed us down the path.

This hike is a 6.2 miler that is deceptive in that it is two loops, the main part of the park and then the Northern loop that takes you around the dammed up stream and through the slough by the campgrounds. I had thought that we'd get the Hiking Club word and head out in the Southern loop, and when we forced to do this second loop, I started to get mad. By this time, my knees were aching (due to a 5 hour pre-Thanksgiving day stint at the liquor store) and my ankle was beginning to seize up. I was also starting to bonk. We didn't bring our fanny packs, so there was no water and Cliff bars and when I bonk, I get cranky. It was also beginning to get dark and we didn't want to be looking for the path at night. So I just did what I do on my bike; I put my head down and was gonna finish this damned trek and get to the car and the Ibuprofen. We got to the word sign and saw that we had to go around a slough to get back to the car and I was really pissy by this time.

We made it back to the car eventually, we got water, I got Ibuprofen and we noticed we hiked the entire 6.2 mile loop in two hours. We had hike this park several years earlier when we were in considerably poorer condition and it took us all day. Two hours! Mrs Yam was ecstatic. Looking back at the GPS, we were hiking at around 3.5 - 3.7 miles per hour. No wonder my knees and ankle hurt. We headed into town and the dog hopped in the rear of the wagon and curled up in the jackets. She was wiped out completely.

As a reward for our daily triumph, we had dinner at Magnolia's, an absolutely fantastic steak house in Luverne. A couple of beers, a lovely pork chop and my spirit was back and we were ready to go home. We let the dog out for one last potty break before leaving and she was so sore she could barely get out of the car and couldn't get into the car without help. We saved her half of a baked potato and the bone from the pork chop as a treat for her, but she was eating without a lot of enthusiasm.

We crossed a moonlit Minnesota on the way back -- a "Bomber's Moon" is what I think they called it. We went to Worthington on 90 and then up 60 to Mankato. They need to call State Highway 60 the Ethanol Highway since there must have been half dozen to ten "Biorefineries" on that road. I'm not sure that I think that ethanol is a good idea and I really wonder about a country that is more interested in growing crops to feed their cars than to feed their people. Big Corn isn't any better then Big Oil since you can't have corn without oil, at least the way that modern farming is done and feeding cars corn doesn't solve the problem.

Sheila spent the next couple of days going out to go potty and going back to the bed upstairs or her bed in the living room, where ever the people were. Limping and sleepy, she still looked happy and like it was worth it for her. My joints are better and I know it was worth it for me...

Thankful?

MDM (me darlin' Mrs) and I went to her folks' house for Thanksgiving and this is something I typically dread. MDM's mom isn't a good cook, she doesn't really enjoy preparing the meal and it shows. The most frustrating thing about this situation is the fact that Mrs Yam and I love cooking and entertaining. We volunteer to host or cook, but to no avail -- her lot is to have Thanksgiving and, like Sisyphus, she's going to do it every year. Grocery store turkey, boxed mashed potatoes, dressing made in a crock pot from a box, anything to ease the tedium of cooking.

[A little history of Brother Yam here; before my current career, I was a cook and a bartender for about a dozen years so I know my way around a kitchen. I love cooking and eating which puts us back to the present and the reason for the name of this pathetic little narrative called a blog...]

I don't care that she doesn't like cooking -- hell, most people don't -- and so I understand the reason for the ingredients. But that's the frustrating thing, I absolutely loathe convenience foods. Processed foods are the windmill I tilt against and I am glad to see the re-awakening of the real food, or slow food movements. Tasteless food is an oxymoron, and I'm thankful I don't eat it often.

The turkey that comes from the store -- 89 cents a pound or so -- is a loss leader for the supermarket. That's to get you to come in and buy the rest of the crud that they sell, the boxed mashed potatoes, the bagged stuffing, canned pumpkin and cranberry sauce and sweet potatoes in syrup. That turkey isn't a product of farming, not anymore. That turkey is a genetically-engineered product of agricultural manufacturing. The exact amount of feed at the exact time mixed with enough antibiotics and vitamins to keep it on schedule and to prevent the loss of too much inventory due to the environment in which it is created. The product reaches a deliverable mass and then is trucked off for processing.

There's nothing sentimental in the raising and slaughter of that store turkey. This is assembly line production and the goal is to get you a semblance of what you are looking for in the shortest amount of time and at the lowest cost (financially). Processed and packed and shipped to a consumer that is so conditioned that a turkey is breast meat with enough structure around it to hold it upright so that it can get food down its gullet. A "basted" or "butterball" turkey that has been injected full of water and oil and salt. You're probably paying for ten percent water on that turkey, you can see by how much "broth" is left over in the pan after roasting it.

Mrs Yam and I don't eat that way because we love animals both on the hoof and in the pan. A turkey was once a wily target but is now reduced to gibbering idiot status in overcrowded, filthy and disease-ridden houses. This is no way for something to live, at least something that will end up on a table. Remember, you are what you eat and what you eat is what it eats too, so if you are eating something that lives in shit...

Factory farming has taken the variety and flavor and delicacy out of our food and gives us nothing in return but ease of acquisition. They get machine-harvestable and uniform sizes for picking and shipping and control over the genetics. I suppose that's a bit unfair as we get fresh vegetables all year round, but they're so tasteless, I'd prefer to eat the frozen stuff that was harvested fresh and then preserved or just go without. We're seasonal eaters here in the Yam household because I'd rather eat corn on the cob fresh for three months it's local than try to choke down some frozen cobs in March. Eat it when it's the freshest and the cheapest.

So we have traded taste and nutrition for convenience, and it's not a fair trade. There was nothing fresh on the table save what Mrs Yam and I brought: Brussel Sprouts cooked in sage butter and baked squash and parsnips with maple syrup. Nobody at the table had had sprouts before, but I was happy to see that they enjoyed them. The squash was pretty much finished also (mostly by the Mrs and me). The pies were good and the company was good. I don't want anyone to think I don't care for my inlaws, I do. I love them dearly -- that's why I want to cook for them. That's how I show my love, I feed you. I toast to your health with the best I've got.

And I toast to you all. Despite the rant, I'm thankful for my family and the food and everything. And that next year, we will be hosting again and the menu will be rich and weird and really, really healthy.

I expect that I'll be writing more about food in the coming months as I'm inside more and cooking more. And hey, winter biking takes energy, no?

[This was rolling around in my head for a while and it is now complete. Sorry for the late post]

Pappataci Mustapha

The lovely Mrs Yam and I went and saw Rossinni's An Italian Girl in Algiers last night. What a treat! The ensemble as a whole performed magnificently and the tenor that had Lindoro's role was stunning. After his first aria, the crowd showed quite a bit of appreciation and even a "Bravo" was shouted. Quite the unruly crowd last night. The cast cast responded to the audience and looked like they were having fun on stage. The were "on" last night and we could tell -- quite the feedback loop.

I'm not really all that knowledgeable about opera, but I go anyway. I try to read the libretto before hand, but I should probably listen to it before I go to get more out of it. If you are in Twin Cities and need something to do this weekend, there is a show Saturday at 7:30 PM and a Sunday matinee at 2:00 PM. Go. You won't be disappointed. This is a great opera for people who've never gone to one; it's funny (trust me, you'll get the jokes), the music is easy to listen to, the performers are top-notch and, for the newbie, it's short (less than 3 hours).

Banner day...

I managed to make both of the lights down Penn, 66th and that son of a bitch light on 69th on my way to work today. I always get caught on the son of bitch light on 69th. Always. It's like Lucy with Charlie Brown's football between me and that son of a bitch light on 69th.

I made it today.

It's gonna be a good day.

I don't care about the wind.

I don't care about the cold.

I rode my bike and I made it past the son of a bitch light on 69th!

Leavin' on a Jet Plane

Unfortunately, that's not the Mrs. and me, but Momma Yam. Dropped her off at the airport early this morning so that she can tour China. Adventurous ol' gal, me momma. Tough as nails too. Worked as an Emergency Room Nurse at North Memorial and then retired. Got bored. Worked at the Bloomington-Lake clinic (on Bloomington and Lake -- not the best of neighborhoods) and then they transferred her to the safer confines of the Southern suburbs.

I've seen my mom put a room full of gangbangers in fear of their lives -- that's her ER and don't you forget about it. Your buddy will be taken care of, but if she has to come out here one more time and tell you people... If you have pieces in the wrong places, pieces in pieces or whatever, I'd want no one less than Momma Yam next to me. If you cross her while she's stichin' you back up, that little (5' 2") old lady is nothing but teeth and claws.

China should be okay -- if they don't mess with her too much.

Sad news

Few among the few who read this blog will know what this means (hey, and if you do, represent!), but Itojun (Jun-ichiro Hagino) of IPv6 fame has passed away.

A bad day for the internets...

Feed...

...is a book by M. T. Anderson, and a damn fine one. It's possibly one of the saddest commentaries on our society I've ever read. I heard of it from Ran Prieur, who was brought to my attention by Kent Peterson.

The story is basically a dystopian vision of the future, where a completely commercialized Internet is beamed into implanted devices wired into the wearer for a continuous stream of advertising, chat and pop culture. Dulling the populace into a compliant, dull mass of consumers, the feed lures people from seeing the reality that is happening around them. You want a scary book for this Halloween? Read this, and if you have any ability to connect dots you'll be properly terrified.

Ostensibly a book for "young adults," this isn't to be missed because I found it in the Teen section of my used book store. The ideas are very, very grown up. Maybe too grown up for most of us. This was a gripping book that kept me up until I finished it, so the easy read is just a sugar coating that helps get the message into the system.

Not a really cheerful book, but that's just what the doctor ordered. I'm back to the black mood I was in before my "vacation." Seems the nice feeling I tried to bottle sank into the muck of reality and I'm frantically pawing through the mire to find it. One thing that didn't help was listening to my laptop take a header off of my desk here at work. I just hope I can get it repaired -- First Tech won't get around to looking at until Friday or Monday.

Sure it's a 5 year old laptop, but my Powerbook has been working like a champ and still does all I need it to do. I don't want another one, I've heard bad things about the new ones and I'm not ready to give up on this one. That and I can't afford another new thing; I was lucky to get the bike and now we're just about to start remodeling the bathroom. Though not as fun as a new laptop, a toilet isn't something I'm willing to go without...

Didn't bike to work this morning as I haven't been able to figure out how to carry a full crockpot of soup. We're having a pot-luck here at the office and I brought a curried squash and apple soup. I may just drive home and bike to da bar tonight if the weather holds. It's been perfect for biking, so I'm doing my best to take advantage of it. Biking does help beat the blues.

Glorious weekend

Mrs Yam and I finally found our way out of town. We took last Friday off and left for Two Harbors Thursday night. We stayed in the lighthouse! I didn't even know that was a B&B, and it was a great find. As we left the Cities, the 35W bridge traffic was snarled (big surprise, that), and I felt tense. I hadn't been able to leave for a vacation and it was beginning to show. I feared that something would stop us from this getaway. Happily, nothing did and I could feel the tension streaming away as we headed North.

We made fairly good time (the Mrs is a real leadfoot) and checked into the Lighthouse around 7:30. Dinner in town and a night of reading. I'm on a serious Terry Pratchett kick right now and I wanted to finish The Amazing Maurice and his Educated Rodents. A kids book. Yeah, right. A story like the old Grimm Fairy Tales, with the death and violence included. But, like everything I've read of his, utterly entertaining.

Friday morning we headed up to a couple of State Parks we hadn't hiked yet, Split Rock Lighthouse and George H. Crosby/Manitou. Split Rock's Hiking Club trail is fairly long, but it is relatively flat since it lies between the lake and the highway and almost half of it is on the Gitchee Gummee paved trail. Easy six miles.

Crosby, not so much. We missed the turn for highway 1 and had to backtrack since the stupid navigator was staring at his belly button lint or something. Eventually we found it. This is a State Park junkie's treat, this one. You have to take a couple of miles of dirt road to get it and when you get there, it's really rustic. Nothing's paved, there's no giftshop or ice or anything. A board that you shove your campsite reservation slip into and that's about it. The hike was really challenging for us, with plenty of roots and rocks and lots and lots of elevation changes. I'll need to look at what I get out of the GPS to see it exactly, but there was plenty of climbing. Tough, but fair. It was easily the most technical hike we've ever encountered and we are proud of ourselves that we completed it and in pretty good time. We're not experienced, but compared to our outing to Eagle Mountain several years ago, we've improved considerably.

Then to Grand Marais for the room. Ah, me lovely Mrs is a bright lady and got a room with a hot tub, just what this fat ol' boy needed after dragging his corpulent carcass up and down the hills of Lake Superior. Dinner and beers at the Gunflint Tavern and some well-deserved shut-eye. After 10 miles hiking and some Furious (Surly on the North Shore!), sleep came quickly.

Saturday, we headed backwards a bit to Cascade River to hike another challenging trail. This one sends you up Lookout Mountain and back. There seemed to have been quite a windstorm in the recent past -- trees were down all over and we must have hiked around a dozen or so that ended up blocking the trail. That made things even more interesting.

After that, we went to Judge C. R. Magney for our aerobic workout. More climbing with a bunch of stairs near the end. It's a short 1.25 mile there-and-back, but the elevation changes make it fun and the scenery is magnificent. Not that the rest of the parks are shabby...

We finished by going all the way to the Canadian border and walking the Grand Portage trail. This is a paved 1/2 miles that brings you to the Pigeon River falls, the highest in Minnesota. They've had a bunch of rain, and the falls were really glorious. This pushed our hiking total to 101 miles and for that we get patches and a free night of camping. We headed back to Grand Marais, soaked in the hot tub, had dinner and drinks at the Gunflint and went to bed. They had a costume contest and a band that sounded like Brave Combo, great mole and did I mention that the have Surly?

The weather was perfect, the trails were perfect, the company was perfect (Hi, Hon!) and the stresses of the past few weeks couldn't stand up to the blast of happiness, beauty, exhaustion and gluttony that the weekend provided. It was like my spirit was steam-cleaned and I am happy and calm like I haven't been for long, long time. I hope I can save a small kernel of this, block it off from the ghoulies and the ghosties and ugliness and look at once in while when I need a pick me up. I really cherish the time I spend up there and I hope I can remember the feeling of standing barefoot in the lake this morning.

Time for bed. The week begins anew...

Overheard last night at the liquor store

I was stocking shelves when I heard two young women discussing their plans for a party. Here's a couple of nuggets of wisdom from the mouths of babes:

• "...you don't want to mix to many different kinds of booze in it, you'll have people puking all over the backyard..."
• "...we don't need to spend money on good vodka..."
• "...well, that's sorta the essence of wopness..."

The essence of wopness?

It's a perfect day

for walking in the park...

Sunday was a good day and I needed one. Work hasn't been going well for either Mrs. Yam or myself. Luckily, I'm still employed, but let's just say the Mortgage Industry woes have started to flow upstream and leave it at that, shall we?

Sunday, yes, yes. The Muttbutt, Mrs and I got up and went to breakfast then road-tripped south to Nerstrand-Big Woods State Park for a six mile hike. We all really needed it, especially Sheila. Poor thing has been cooped up while the Yamstress and I have been working many crazy hours. The fresh air, the exercise, the quiet -- quite a tonic.

The overcast skies of October are a favorite of ours and the trees at the park just glowed in the subdued light. There is something about about the leaves this time of year where they shine in their own subtle way. Clear skies and sun completely drown out the amber and rust lighting and that's why we like the grey skies.

The air was redolent with the sweet, moist smell of freshly fallen leaves and wet earth. There were no sounds save a gentle rustle of leaves and the cool, damp air was quite a change from the stale atmosphere of the office. I truly believe that Minnesotans are an Autumn People. Just ask one, the answer to "What's your favorite season?" is typically, "Fall." I know that's my answer...

We watched a leaf fall for what seemed like hours, long lazy arcs back and forth as it slowly settled downward only to catch a breeze and lift gently upwards again. This absolutely captivating display repeated three or four times until the breeze wandered off to play with something else.

Walking in woods, gold above and the vibrant green of the still flourishing undergrowth, was almost magical, surreal. I felt like I would stumble across a mythical sylvan creature around any turn on the trail. We'd finally found a little peace.

After the walk, we decided to wander eastward to Mississippi, so we found ourselves heading towards Wabasha on Highway 60. I really recommend this road to anyone, the valleys and streams cut into the land make for some magnificent scenery. We crossed over to Wisconsin and headed up 35 to Hudson. It was around Lake Pepin when a misty drizzle settled over the area and turning it into something from Scotland, more like Loch Pepin...

We tried to find Rush River Brewing Co. while passing through River Falls, but the light was failing and the maps and townspeople were as mystified as we about the actual location. Disheartened, we made Hudson, bought some Dogfish Head beer from a helpful fellow in a liquor store downtown and ate a little dinner and headed home.

The day ended pleasantly enough for most, save Sheila and me. I had to wash the mud out of the dog and neither of us enjoy that too much, but, so it goes. We all then headed up to an early bed. The perfect ending to a perfect day.

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The Mrs. vs. the Hummer

(C'mon, clean it up, guys... I mean the SUV/Land Yacht)

So Autumn has fallen up on Minnesota with a vengeance. Sunday was 85 and humid and Monday was rainy and about 55-60 degrees. Yesterday was windy, windy, windy with 30mph northerly gusts and I don't think it cleared 50 degrees. Nice weather for bikin'.

Mrs. Yam described biking home -- into the cold North wind with dust and grit flying and falling temps. She stops at a light along Nicollet and Hummer pulls along side. She imagined them looking down on her, this crazy old lady biking in this weather. I said that the driver is both stupid and weak -- unable to brave the elements in their giant, climate-controlled gas-guzzler and don't you concern yourself with them.

Rock on, baby. Rock on...

That's me Mrs.

And then there were six

The Raleigh has found a new home and a new rider. My next door neighbor is about 17 and she doesn't have any mode of transportation. Not a good situation. So I gave her the three-speed and a lock and key that I found at the liquor store and told her to use them in good health. I hope she uses it, but she needs to ride as she found a 30 block bike ride to school a formidable distance.

All in good time I suppose.

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I'm officially an old man now...

I drank a PBR and ate chicken gizzards and livers.

I hate being on call...

Happy anibersary, Hon...

To my Darlin' Mrs Yam,

Eight years of bliss are more than I deserve.

I'm a lucky guy to have you around.

Here's to the miles, may there be many, many more.

Here's to the shows, the giggles and the crowded stove.

Here's to you and me and the wonderful way I am around you.

You make me a better person.

I love you.