Bearded Lady Motorcycle Freak Show

I need to post pictures of this event, but they're on my camera and I'm too tired and hot to try to transfer them right now, so words will have to do.

This lovely event takes place in the parking lot by Diamonds, the coffeehouse near where Ross works. We rode over - me on my CB-1, Ross on his Honda 450. I had been suffering from stiff back that morning, made worse by bending over the dog for half an hour wrestling a comb through his fur. So we get to Diamonds, I spot an opening in the line-up of motorcycles along the curb and wrestle my bike into it, and as I'm wrestling something goes bad - seriously bad - with the muscles in my back. A tremendous pain shoots through my back and all through my torso. I manage to park it and walk over to find Ross, hoping that the pain will ease. But no. If anything it grows worse, cramping my body so that I can't quite draw a full breath. I can barely tell Ross what's wrong because the stress has got me crying.

We go inside and get some water, and Ross finds a guy who works there and does some massage. He goes to work on my back, and fifteen minutes later I am at least smiling and thanking him, and able to get up and look at motorcycles. And boy, there are some cool bikes to see. The event has a somewhat rockabilly feel, with a down-to-earth grunginess competing with (or perhaps complimenting) a fifties-era style. There are new bikes, old bikes, heavily modified bikes, but mostly unique bikes full of character.

Pictures to follow.

Riding

Rode my CB-1 to work today. It was very windy and I was cautious; I took the back roads and avoided the highway. I have unrealistic fears, still, despite the motorcycle class. I am cautious with a capital C. However I did notice certain spots on the road in which I definitely felt more confident, so perhaps the secret is just to ride. To ride longer and gradually better.

That is so obvious and yet so... frustrating. I want a secret. I want instant success. I have channelled the attitude of America, the desire for results without work. Ha ha. I want to just KNOW how to ride without having to work for it. I want magic. I'm a pathetic lazy sod.

I have not yet ridden the Monster again. Ross has several times, and he said he could understand why it scared me. That makes me feel better, but it doesn't make me want to rush into riding the Monster again. I'm more interested in getting back on the VFR. I'm glad I didn't sell it yet; it is a sweet bike.

Part of the challenge of dealing with a motorcycle is the sheer difficulty of dealing with this large mass of metal, of understanding the ways in which it moves and the ways in which you, as a smaller, frailer mass of flesh, can manipulate it.

New cell phones

We finally broke down and got new cell phones.
We've had 'em for probably about four years, and Ross has subjected his to all sorts of damage (like throwing himself at the ground while running, and smashing into Toad's head). The batteries didn't like to charge anymore, and Ross' phone didn't always ring when it should.
So we got 'em. The LG VX8300, which has all sorts of features we'll probably never use. I've gotten carried away and have downloaded three different ringtones, and I'm tempted to download a game. I've resisted so far; I downloaded one game for my ipod and that has given me untold hours of entertainment. I'm a huge sucker for the peculiarly addictive delight of small-screen video games. I think it might have something to do with the age I grew up in... or simply a game-oriented mind. Ross, who is after all only one year older than me, is completely impervious to the lure of games, video or otherwise. It must have to do with brain chemistry or upbringing. Or both. It's just that... god, I love games. There is certainly a social element, as any game is better with involvement of friends, but I'll happily play some games solo for hours and hours. I'm not as bad as some - I do not live for games. I don't have an online persona; I don't spend my fortune on virtual gadgets.

So. Cell phones. I was listening to mpr today and they used a Cake song for bumper music and I had a sudden brainstorm that perhaps there were Cake ringtones. Indeed there were, and moments later I had "Never There" as a ringtone. Lyrics are amusingly apt - "You're never there, you're never there, you're never ever ever ever there."

I feel such a weird frustration at this juncture of my life... It's exemplified in my work situation, in which I KNOW that I have a great job, in which I'm paid very well to sculpt all day, I have flexibility galore, my boss knows and trusts me and is a friend, and... I get to sculpt all day! But I also have all this frustration about the fact that I'm doing essentially the same thing over and over. And for whatever reason I feel like I'm regressing to an earlier, less social version of myself in which I submerge myself in my work and don't connect with coworkers.
I'm wallowing in the negative view.

What makes me happy is going home and being with my Ross and my Toad and my yard and my house. What makes me happy is going climbing with my dear friends and pushing my mental and physical limits. What makes me happy is pulling weeds from my garden and lawn, and moving plants and watching plants grow. What makes me happy is doing things that I don't have to do but want to do anyway. What makes me happy is reading books... but then I become frustrated when I think about the fact that at one point in my life I yearned to write science fiction books and could have if I had sufficient gumption/encouragement/dedication. I get frustrated and angry. Maybe I am only now dealing with anger that has built up for a long time. And maybe some of that anger is aimed at myself, which leads me into a difficult and unproductive cycle of frustration and self-blame and guilt and bad feeling. It is SO difficult to be proactive and positive.
Of course even in writing that I think that some people do not find it so difficult, and if only I could be one of those positive people... and thus begins the cycle of guilt and blame.

I'm frustrated that I'm not and have never been ambitious. And because of the peculiar state that I've been in, I find it easy to blame my parents for my lack of ambition. It's not particularly fair, but there it is. Maybe this is a step along the way to truly owning my own lack of ambition. If so I should be celebrating.

The truth is that I could start writing the great american novel tomorrow. It is not too late for anything, ever. How's that for a positive thought? And here's another: I can do stuff. So do it - now. That's part of the point of this blog.

Summer garden

Cimicifuga racemosa. Snakeroot.
Sundrops?
Delphinium, with a side order of asiatic lillies.
The same.

Climbing with katie

Had a girls' climbing day at Taylor's Falls with Katie. Tried to get Diane to come, too, but she had stuff goin' on. So Diane is moving to Boston, where she got a job with Sensable (the company that made the 3-D modelling software we were using at work). She's here through August, and has expressed a desire to get in some climbing before leaving town. But more about that later. For now the topic is me and Katie, climbing at Taylor's.

We went to the Picnic area on the Wisconsin side of Taylor's Falls. It's called the Picnic area because it is at the far southern end of the park, closest to the beach area where families gather to picnic and grill on summer days. A quick hike up a steep hill takes you to the top of the cliffs and to the very recognizable formations at the top of the climbs. As we reached the spot I groaned upon seeing a bunch of webbing and a climber flaking out a rope; I assumed that the spot was well and truly occupied and we would have to hike on. But the guy said they were almost done, and Katie and I dug out the ropes and webbing and gear and started setting anchors. As we finished our toprope setups they were tearing theirs down, and soon we were scrambling down the "easy" way to the base of the climbs.


The left rope is hanging on "Picnic crack", a very leadable 5.6 crack. In fact, after we both toproped it I pulled the rope and lead it, and then belayed Katie from the top. We then rapelled back down. She had never rapelled before, so I had the pleasure of introducing her to another essential climbing experience.

This happens to be one of the best spots for a hot summer day; shady all day with a fairly flat area for setting out gear. It can be comfy, as can be seen below. The greenish sunny area past my foot is the river.

Katie didn't realize I was taking this picture of her.
And I didn't realize she was getting in to this picture!

The blue rope was hanging between two climbs; "Picnic Face" goes straight up the face at and to the left of the rope, rated 5.10, and "Picnic Right" goes up a diagonal crack out of the photo, and then up and over the tiny overhang just right of the rope. It's a committing lead; you get gear in just below the overhang, but then the next good gear spot is a ways up. I lead it once, years ago, and on the same day my friend Tracy lead it and fell from above the overhang. It was actually a sweet catch; I hardly felt the impact when my belay caught him, but it shook him quite a bit and seemed to be the beginning of his loss of interest in climbing.

After doing those routes Katie and I pulled the green rope and scrambled around the corner to "Weird Overhang". I had done this route with my friend Dave years ago; he led it, couldn't get past this weird spot below the overhang, and I climbed up and finished the lead. This time I was going to do the entire lead. I was being kind of wimpy, taking my time and doubling up my pro. The awkward spot is in a flaring corner; you have to pull up and into the flaring corner, and then the left wall of the corner falls away into a sloping ledge. A sloping ledge may sound easy to climb on to, but the only foothold to get onto the ledge is a small, triangular spot in the corner, and the hand sequence is tricky; a righthand crimp allows you to grab a sidepull above the ledge with your left, and then by folding your torso over the ledge you can reach a good solid crack with your right. Then you can place protection in this crack (from this somewhat strenuous position) or a bold climber might make the move to get a foot up on the ledge before placing pro. I was not that bold climber; I tried a couple of overly large cams in the crack, and then had to downclimb to get the proper size cam from the other side of my harness. Then, however, it was cake.

Once you're on the sloping ledge you're actually squeezing into the space below the overhang. Swing out around the left end of it and up the wide, easy crack, and you're done. I threw a couple of cams into cracks at the top, tied off a tree root, and belayed Katie up. After feeling a little wimpy about my ascent I was made to feel like a hero as she groaned and gasped, said "I don't think I can do this" at the hard spot, and finally finished it off. When she came over the top she said, "You're a rock star." I dissembled and preened.

We finished off by rapelling the blue line, climbing it again, and hauling our packs to the top. An excellent day with plenty of climbing.