Shrimpfest at Camp Hatteras

Last month we had a Crabfest here, this month was a Shrimpfest. Jack was the cook again and it was fabulous food again!

Backup Kickstand?

Winter's first casualty: the Co-Habitant's Pletscher twin-legged kickstand broke.

These things have a spring inside that regulates the folding of the legs. A few days ago the spring snapped and the legs went limp, so he removed the contraption. The working theory is that the winter wind swayed the bike upon the kickstand back and forth and stressed out the spring.

Not sure that fixing it is possible, since it may be hard to find a replacement spring. Has anybody else had this happen to a Pletscher Twin Legger?

Believe it or not, the Co-Habitamt has a backup kickstand. (How many people can say that?) It's the original fold-down stand that came with his Pashley and which he never removed. He finds these annoying, but I think it looks great - especially with the lights!

Packed

"If your bike has couplers, or if you have a spendy bike case, or if you pay a shop to pack your bike, or if you have a folding bike, shipping a bike is still a pain in the ass for everyone involved."

That is what one of the wisest blog posts of all time has to say about mailing bikes, and I am sure they would apply the same to travel. Based on the stories I've heard about traveling with bicycles, it certainly seems to be more often a pain than not.


So I am going abroad again, and this time I'm taking a bike along. Never done this before and I'm getting really nervous! It almost feels as if I am doing something illegal by putting a bicycle in a suitcase. "Can I get away with it?" I find myself thinking as I glance over my shoulder furtively.




Well, I guess I am about to find out for myself how much of a pain it really is. Will write about it once I cross the Atlantic!

On Living Locally and Seeking Continuity

I was having a political discussion with a friend over email, and in response to something I wrote he replied: "You know, it's really starting to show that you haven't been out of the US in almost a year." Ouch... But the "insult" aside, I realised he was correct: I haven't been out of the country since last July, which is unusual for me. Moreover, we have been without a car since December, making our travel radius limited to cycleable distances. Without explicitly being aware of it, I have transitioned from living "globally" to living "locally," and my friend's insinuation was that this has made me narrow-minded and provincial. Has it? I think not, but I also realise that I don't really care. My quality of life has improved as a result of the changes I've made since last year, and that's difficult to argue with.



We could go on forever debating the "moral" and "social responsibility" implications of living locally vs globally. On the one hand, those who lead lifestyles that rely on air travel are doing a great deal of damage to the environment. On the other hand, one could argue that some international jobs are "important" in their contribution to society, and the scale of this contribution outweighs the degree of environmental damage. But the trouble with these arguments, is that they inevitably lead us to a slippery slope. Who determines what's important? Who has the right to pass that judgment on others, and using what criteria? Are UN workers "good," but fashion reporters "evil"? Is it "wrong to endanger the environment" by traveling to Shanghai just for fun, or is that outweighed by the positive effect of experiencing another culture, growing more tolerant and open-minded as a result? Impossible to say, without imposing our subjective sense of logic on others' sovereignty, which is not something I wish to do.



But the issue of living locally vs globally has personal, psychological implications as well, and these have been on my mind lately. I have an unusual personal history, and have basically never lived in any one place for more than several years at a time. As a result, my life has been fragmented and unstable, which I do not feel is ultimately good for me.When I remember things from my past, I sometimes get confused about the location of an event, and even about the language that was spoken.With my friends, relatives, experiences and memories scattered all over the world, it is difficult to maintain a sense of continuity and even a coherent sense of self. Forming healthy attachments to new people and places is challenging, and replacing the physical reality of personal interaction with virtual communications is isolating.



As we lose our sense of "continuous living," our notions of contact grow increasingly abstract - and not just contact with other people, but contact with our surroundings.I remember a post by Dottie at Let's Go Ride a Bike some time ago, where she describes the lifestyle of her family in the North Carolina suburbs as "traveling from pod to pod." The home is a pod. The workplace is another pod. The restaurant, also a pod. And because of the vast, highway-navigated distances between each, there is no clear sense of what happens in between; it is kind of a dead space, almost a virtual space. I found this imagery to be both frightening and relatable - a reflection of my own anxieties about what our lifestyles are doing to the way we connect with the physical world.



I thought that I might feel limited and stir-crazy once I stopped traveling abroad, and even more so once we began living without a car. Instead I am feeling as if some long-neglected human aspect of me is waking up. Living locally and all that it entails - seeing the same people, experiencing the change of seasons while staying put, and developing a feel for manageable distances - is giving me a sense of continuity that I have been lacking.

Tombstone Tuesday :: Phend Family at South Park

The Phend plot at South Park Cemetery, Whitley County, Indiana.

Henry and Susie Phend, my great grandparents, with their infant son Richard Lincoln.

Virgil Gilbert Phend, son of Henry and Susie.

Rolland Victor Phend, my grandfather, son of Henry and Susie.
My grandfather was 22 years old when his brother Richard was born. He once told me that he was holding little Richard at the time of his death.

Virgil was married to Heneretta Nelson on November 5, 1930. They were divorced six months later. Heneretta then married Virgil's brother, Don Phend, on September 5, 1931. Virgil graduated with the 1922 class of Columbia City High School. Like so many boys and young men, he worked for a while on the Aker onion and potato farm that was then located west of Columbia City. Later he attended an electrical engineering school at the University of Chicago. For a number of years he was associated with his father and brother, Gerald (Dufty) Phend in the building contracting business. Many of the downtown store fronts were renovated while he was an associate of the firm. In 1963 he began working as an architect with Roy McNett Designs, Inc. with whom he was employed at the time of his death.

All photographs taken May 4, .. by Becky Wiseman

Comfortable Carbon: Trying the Parlee Z5

Looking down at my handlebars around mile 50, I felt a pang of alarm at the sight of unfamiliar decals. Then I remembered: I wasn't riding my own bike. I had gotten so comfortable, I'd forgotten. A stern voice in my head began to chastise me. "Come on, you are doing a test ride. You're supposed to be paying attention to the ride characterisics - not enjoying the scenery." Easier said than done!




To explain how I came to test ride the Parlee Z5, it may help to give a bit of a backstory. For some time, I've been interested in getting a feel for carbon fiber roadbikes. However, my attempts at this have been less than successful. I've ridden a handful of carbon bikes briefly, but either they were not set up for me to do a proper test ride, or I found the ride quality too harsh to actually want to ride them for any length of time. Of course not all carbon bikes feel the same, just like not all steel bikes feel the same. With this in mind, I finally approached the matter more strategically and talked to some industry insiders familiar with my riding style and preferences. A few suggestions kept coming up. Among them was the Parlee Z5.






Parlee Cycles are a small and local-to-me company, based in Beverly, Massachusetts. So the idea of trying one of their bikes was appealing. Later this summer I plan to visit the factory and write about them in more detail. Parlee offers both custom frames, built on the premises, and production models designed inhouse and built in Taiwan. The Z5 is the latter.




The demo bike was lent to me by Cycle Loft, a Boston Parlee dealer. After undergoing a fitting session, my position on the Z5 ended up near-identical to that on my own roadbike, making for a seamless transition. I kept the bike for a week and rode it for about 135 miles.






Even before I rode the Z5, I could see why this bike was suggested to me. To call its appearance "classic" might be pushing it. But the aesthetic is clean, subtle, neutral. I did not find myself biased against it, in a "Meh, this is ugly" kind of way. In fact, I find it rather pretty.






Made from a single carbon piece (what is known as "monocoque construction"), the Z5 frame has a seamless, sculpted look to it. At the same time, the round tubes and the smooth, but crisply delineated joints, bear a resemblance to those of metal bikes. There are no MC Escher-esque bulges or round-to-square taperings here; the frame looks simple and familiar. For those who are curious to try carbon fiber but wince at the look they associate itwith, I do think Parlee eases the transition.






I rode the Parlee Z5 in size Small (Tall), which translates to a 52.5cm top tube and a slightly extended headtube compared to their standard Small. The complete geometry specs are here. The bike was fitted with a SRAM Force group andMavic Ksyrium Elite wheels with 23mm Michelin Pro 4 tires (complete build specs here). Though I have Campagnolo on my own bike, I feel very comfortable with SRAM and have no trouble switching back and forth. The handlebars included in the standard build were 2mm narrower than the (42mm) bars on my own bike, but otherwise the fit was almost identical.






The one disappointment was that the front-center was a bit tighter than I like. With 23mm tires, I had a tiny bit of toe overlap. The amount was minimal, and I still felt comfortable test riding the bike. But with 25mm tires I would not be.





Riding the Parlee home, my first impressions were dominated by how comfortable it felt - namely, the ride quality over harsh roads, bumps and potholes. To provide some background, I am pretty sensitive to ride quality and cannot stand a bike that feels harsh. It does not matter how fast it is, how nimble, or how good at climbing: If I feel vibrations from the road or pain from going over bumps, I just can't take it for more than a few miles. This sensitivity was a big factor in my own roadbike purchasing decision a couple of years ago, and a major reason I went with a titanium Seven. So with that as my personal bike, granted I am now a bit spoiled in the ride quality department. Lots of bikes feel at least a little harsh compared to my Seven.



Lots of bikes, but not the Parlee Z5. Nope. The Z5 was flawlessly smooth. As in zero road buzz sensation, zero pain over bumps and potholes. At some point I started intentionally riding it over every stretch of broken pavement I could find, but I couldn't feel a thing.





Of course, whether it feels painful or not, a roadbike with skinny tires will still toss you around on bad roads. And it is here that I could feel a difference in the Z5 compared to my own bike. Until now, I had considered my Seven to be quite stiff. But after some time on the Parlee, I could feel a "give" in my own bike that I had not detected before. In comparison, there is no give to the Parlee at all; on bumpy roads it sort of bounces as one unit rather than exhibit even a slight amount of yield.






But despite being stiffer, the Parlee did not feel harsher than my own bike, even as I rode it longer. To my surprise, neither did it feel faster. I rode alone and I rode with some fast friends. Each time, speed and effort-wise, it felt just like being on my own roadbike.




I decided to ride the Parlee on a 100K New England Randonneurs "Permanent" course I had done alone a few weeks earlier (67 miles, with 3,800 feet of climbing). Just as I'd done previously, I timed myself and genuinely tried to do my best. My average rolling speed on the Parlee was 13.3mph, whereas on my own bike it had been 13.1mph - a difference too small to be significant, considering that my fitness had also increased a bit since the earlier ride. Of course this bit of anecdotal evidence may not mean much. But it reflects my subjective experience of the bike.




One reason I picked this particular 100K route for the test ride, was for its brief unpaved stretches. The bike rode on broken pavement so nicely, I was curious how it would do on dirt and gravel. Just as nicely, it turns out. While I prefer to do unpaved rides on wide tires at low pressure, if I must ride skinny tires the Z5 is as good as it gets.






Aside from all this, I did feel something distinct to this bike in the course of my test rides. It was a sensation in the rear triangle - possibly the chainstays, and it was specific to cornering. It was as if the rear responded to cornering differently from what I am used to. The chainstay area felt lighter somehow, almost as if it wanted to skip or lift off on corners. Well, maybe describing it that way makes it sound too negative. Unfortunately, I don't know how to explain it any better, but I actually liked this sensation. I found the bike to be maneuverable on corners in a way I had not previously experienced.




Normally, I am pretty sensitive to a bike's front-end handling, and less so to other aspects. The Parlee was the first time I was struck by characteristics specific to the rear of the bike.






While technically not the first carbon fiber roadbike I've ridden, the Parlee Z5 is the first one I've put a sufficient number of miles on to warrant a report. In part this is thanks to Cycle Loft, for lending it out and setting it up to fit me perfectly. And in part it's thanks to the bike's comfortable feel, which made me want to keep riding for miles and miles. Much like on my own bike, I did not experience fatigue on the Z5 after strenuous rides. And much like on my own bike, the handling, for the most part, felt "unnoticeable" - encouraging me to focus on the scenery and the ride itself, rather than on the bike.




Going into this test ride, I had several expectations about the feel and performance of carbon fiber: Namely, that it would feel harsher, stiffer and faster than my own bike. The Parlee Z5 felt only stiffer, and even that was only noticeable to me under certain conditions. Granted, I don't race, I don't ride aggressively, I spin rather than mash, and I don't climb out of the saddle. My impressions are limited to the kind of riding I do. And that riding involves 50-100 mile jaunts, sometimes more, usually with lots of climbing and usually on bad roads.I like a fast bike that makes me feel weightless. And I also like to be comfortable. As far as that kind of riding goes, I felt right at home on the Parlee Z5.

Fred Becky @ 90!

Is lifeall really just perspective and perception?



http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O9d9Of1NJjs

DROVES Diaries II: Loop of Defeat

It is Saturday night on Memorial Day weekend. We are in Vermont. And it is snowing outside. It is really starting to accumulate now. We take turns running out onto the porch to snap pictures. We do not know what to do with ourselves, other than look at each other with a helpless giddiness as if to say "This is really happening and you are my witness, right?" Surely twenty or thirty years from now we will each be telling some bored youngster in our family about that time it snowed on Memorial Day weekend. But what to do with these emotions now that it's happening? Well, there is always instagram.




The people I am with, they drink like Europeans - lots, as a matter of course, and, seemingly without getting drunk. There is also a great deal of eating. Tray after tray is passed around. I decline second helpings. I push half of my dessert onto a neighbour's plate. And still I feel close to being sick, while the others seem to thrive. I look around the table with admiration. I cannot eat like this, despite having ridden the same miles. Not that those miles seem like much to brag about in retrospect.




I slept straight through the night and opened my eyes at 8:30am. A heavy pile of comforters. Wooden beams all around. The air smells of outdoors and feels just as crisp. At first I marvel at how quiet it is. But then I realise that I'd simply grown used to the rain beating against the metal roof as background noise. It is raining as hard as last night, and it is almost as dark.




Downstairs, some of the others are awake already, quietly eating breakfast in different parts of the room. I step out onto the porch and see a watery mess in the dirt driveway. It is raw-cold out, and I duck back indoors. There is coffee and I pour myself some. I settle down with a bowl of cereal and listen to the rain.




Pamela is at the table with her laptop. Extreme weather warnings are in effect.She suggests that those who want to ride wait till mid-day, when the rain might ease up.And she proposes we do a short route - one that's designed as a half-day ride and is only 30 miles long, called the Victory Loop. Pamela and John debate whether the steep descent toward the end might be washed out and could be dangerous. They decide that today the route should be ridden backwards. "It is steeper in reverse, but safer."



I copy the route and glance at the metrics: 30 miles, 3600 feet of climbing. All dirt. I eat my cereal and don't allow the figures to register.




"The Victory Loop in reverse... doesn't that make it the Loop of Defeat?"




More people are awake now, but there is no talk of riding.




"I am fine right here," someone says. "Any board games in the house?"




The RSC boys continue to work on John Bayley's bike. They are now opening the bleed kit for the hydraulic brakes. Matt Roy - an immunologist and pro bike mechanic - is wielding the syringe picturesquely as we all take pictures.




But finally I am restless. Am I crazy for wanting to ride on a day like this?




At noon, Mo Bruno-Roy appears in a colourfully mismatched ensemble. She is going on a short mountain bike ride in the woods. After she sets off, I can take it no longer.




I go upstairs and put on my cycling clothes. Fleece winter tights, baselayer, long sleeve jersey, winter jacket, neck warmer, full finger gloves, shoes, and those fetishistic-looking booties I'd been too intimidated to try all winter. I walk downstairs and amuse everyone.




Before I can change my mind,I drag my bike outdoors and set off. The rain is like a waterfall.By the time I reach the end of the dirt driveway, my glasses fog up so completely that I must take them off.At the main road I turn right.




As it is later remarked, there is no foreplay in the routes around Burke, Vermont. "They begin to fuck with you right away."




The first climb happens immediately and it is 3 miles long, starting out paved and turning to dirt. One of those roads with the truck-on-triangle "Steep Grade" sign. I feel like someone hit me over the head with a hammer. I see stars.Blood rushes to my face.My mouth goes dry. My head starts to pound. And my legs feel like led.I grind in my 1:1 gear.I cannot climb like this starting at mile zero, I just can't.




The dirt roads are beige and gritty. It has been raining for days. But remarkably, it is not muddy. Streams of clay-tinted water over wet dirt, but no mud. The ground is soft though, not unlike tightly packed wet sand. It gives under the weight of me and the bike. My tires stick to it, sinking just enough to sap my energy. Crawling uphill, I feel like a caterpillar, a snail.




At the top I stop and take out my camera. But really I stop because I am out of breath and my heart is pounding and my vision is blurry. There is nothing to photograph here. A farm surrounded by fog. Dark clouds pressing down on the soaked landscape. A cluster of sad, broken lilac bushes. Rain, rain, rain. My legs are trembling from the climb; I cannot handle an entire route like this. What am I doing here?




I get back on the bike and hope to rest on a flat stretch, but immediately I start to descend. There are some ruts and washboards now. The bike starts bouncing. I stop and lower the pressure in my tires. That helps. Letting the bike go, I steer around the bends and feather the brakes.




At the bottom, I see that another uphill stretch awaits. But I go off course and take a different road, one that looks like it might offer some rolling hills. But no, that road goes up as well. I stop when my computer registers a 20% grade, turn around and ride back down. Later I will do the same several more times, with similar results. There are no gentle roads here. Explore all you want, but expect at least 1,000 feet of elevation gain for every 10 miles.




Back on course now, the road goes up again, but at a gentler grade than before. The rain eases up. I sip my water and spin, feeling almost energetic.




Now the directions say to turn onto Victory Road. It is a much narrower road, almost a trail, that runs though dense woods. It is gravely and rocky. The pitch steepens horrendously, almost comically. I put my water back in the bottle cage and keep pedaling, clicking through my gears until once again I run out. Then I grind. At this moment I can imagine few things more humiliating than grinding in a gear as low as mine. I don't belong here.




I am crawling up a wall of gravel.My mind wanders. I have imaginary conversations with myself. I can't feel my legs, but somehow rotate the pedals anyway. Water and sweat stream down my face.




Ahead, things get worse. I see that the sides of the road have caved in and are flanked by rushing streams of water.I remember that this is the road with potentially washed-out descent that caused Pamela to reverse the route. As I climb further, ravine-like formations begin to take shape down the center, with streams of water flowing through them. I pick a line to avoid them, but this becomes progressively harder, until finally one ravine intersects the other. I ride over this in slow motion at a 16% grade. I try to keep going, but now the road is truly ravaged. Gravel starts to spill out in clumps under my front tire and I slide backwards. The grade steepens still and I get off to push my bike the rest of the way up, barely upright. My arms and shoulders hurt from the effort. I space out until I reach the top.




The descent is not much better at first and I keep walking. I can't pick out a line; it is all rutted out, or in the process of caving in. But finally I get on the bike, launch it downhill and hope for the best. There are large, sharp rocks and I steer around them. It is a 4 mile descent. I am falling and falling and falling. A free-fall.




At the bottom I am suddenly jolted into alertness. Not by the end of the descent, but by the realisation that I am pedaling along a flat stretch. Having gotten used to vertical roads, it is downright disconcerting. And again, I feel as if my tires stick to the ground, as if I am riding in slow motion. The rain stopped. There is a lake - or maybe a flooded field - and I stop to take a break. I look at the time and see how late it is grown. I've added some extra miles to the route, but still have barely done over 20 so far, and it took me nearly 3 hours. I wonder whether the others, setting out to ride the same route later, might have passed me during one of the times I'd gone off course. I try to get a move on.




Next comes a long, winding paved climb with no end in sight. Once again I am crawling. Surely this cannot be called cycling, not at this speed. The grade steepens yet again and once again I consider walking. But just then I suddenly sense a presence beside me, and I see Ted. Pamela and Emily are not far behind. They tell me they left soon after I did, but I doubt that very much - it would not have taken them this long to catch me.




Briefly we ride together. Nearly breaking my knees, I push myself to keep up, but they gently slip away. And when I see them disappear, it is through a veil of snowflakes. At first I think I am hallucinating, but it is unmistakable. Snowflakes on my handlebar bag, on my gloves, on the sleeves of my jacket.




It is not a soft, fluffy snowfall, but a sharp and sleety one. When the next long descent begins, it hits me in the face like needles; it stabs me in the eyes. I try to put my glasses on, but they fog up. So I squint, resisting closing my eyes completely. My face hurts, really hurts. I can see where I am going only approximately. The road is winding and steep. It feels as if I get through it by putting my bike on autopilot.




Finally, a quieter, gentler road, and I am on dirt again. Tall trees shelter me from the vicious snow-needles. I check my computer and see I am 6 miles from the end. I pedal hard and try to get it over with.




Nearly home now, from the corner of my eye I notice a car slowing down beside me. There is no one else on the road but us, and for a moment I panic. A serial killer on the prowl, preying on slow cyclists. But it is John Bayley and Matt Roy. "Can we give you a lift home?" I am confused, then slightly outraged. "In the car?! Why?" They point at the sky. "We were worried!" I assure them I am doing wonderfully, and wave them away.Some minutes later I drag my bike into the cabin, to the sound of applause.




All this for 37 miles. But they were the hardest I've ever done. My legs are shot and my upper body is aching. I cannot imagine walking tomorrow, let alone riding. Feeling dejected, elated and utterly ridiculous, I go upstairs to wash and change for dinner. Out of the bedroom window I notice the snow again. Maybe I am dreaming all of this up.

Ohio Covered Bridge Number Two

We are all surprised at how much our pickleball game has slipped since we left Chesapeake. So we are working at getting back into the game and playing with Rene and Mira. The internet is really strange here. It is a very strong signal at times and then we will completely lose the signal. We have never quite had this situation before so we aren't sure what that is about. The weather is just fabulous here and this park is beautiful. I can feel myself relaxing and breathing easier already. Here are some shots of another covered bridge.

Southeast Aurora

Fromthis pastweekend's incredibly awesome geomagnetic storm. You know it's an excellent display of the northern lights when the best views are no longer to the north! This particular formation of the Aurora was actually emanating up from the southeast horizon! This was a 20 second exposure taken at ISO 1600 with a Canon EOS 5D Mark II camera and Canon EF 17-40mm lens.

Grand Canyon :: OMG, Look at the Bright Angel Trail...

The morning after our return from Indian Gardens (Wednesday, April 15th) we took a walking “tour” of some of the lodges and other historical buildings on the South Rim of the Grand Canyon. There is a trail that goes most of the length of the South Rim and we walked a short ways along it to the Trail View Overlook, which gives a very nice (putting it mildly) look at the Bright Angel Trail.

The Trail from the rim. At the top, just a little left of center you can see several lodges. The one at the rim is the Bright Angel Lodge and the trailhead is to it's right as you are looking at the picture.

You'll have to trust me on this... The 1.5-mile rest-house is a short distance to the left of that longest pointy shadow. The 3-mile rest-house is at the far end of the trail on the lower left.

Enlarged view of the previous photo, showing the 1.5 mile rest-house in the upper center of the photo. Actually, those are the restrooms, the rest-house is tucked away in the side of the Canyon, next to that shadow.

The 3-mile rest-house is near the center of the picture, where the trail makes a sharp turn back, just above the “black spot” which is a steep cliff. Indian Gardens is barely visible on the far left (that clump of green trees).

Enlarged view of the previous photo, showing the 3-mile rest-house (the small clump of trees where the trail splits to go out to the overlook and the restrooms).

And finally, the trail into Indian Gardens and on out to Plateau Point. Of course, the Bright Angel trail continues on down to the River and the Phantom Ranch area. Where the Plateau Point trail veers to the left, the Bright Angel trail goes to the right.

I must say that when I saw these views I was amazed and in awe of the fact that I had actually hiked that trail. I told Sue and Fred that if I had seen this before Tuesday morning, it is highly likely that I would not have made the trek. It was scary looking at the depth and the switchbacks and I wasn't sure of my abilities. I really don't know whether I would have done it or not. I'm very glad that we hiked it and it is something that I'll remember for a long time to come. And I now have greater confidence in my abilities to hike somewhat more difficult trails than I have been doing!


Other posts in this series:

• Grand Canyon :: Bright Angel Trail to Indian Gardens (part 1)
• Grand Canyon :: Bright Angel Trail to Indian Gardens (part 2)
• Grand Canyon :: Indian Gardens to Plateau Point (part 3)
• Grand Canyon :: From Indian Gardens to The Rim (part 4)

Merry Christmas

I was still feeling sick today, so I didn't do much beyond the dinner we ate here at Thousand Trails. I'm glad we already celebrated our Christmas or I'd have been very disappointed to be sick today.



The dinner was great. I think they said there was 167 people at it. We were some of the overflow tables that ate out on the porch. The food was great and there was lots of it. It was a nice way to celebrate!

Memorial Weather

Both high camps have been receiving lots of new snow over the past couple of days. Memorial Day itself put drifts up to 50 cm deep around camp. High winds (40-50 mph) pasted the wet snow to most surfaces. The general forecast, at least initially, looks better for early-June. Hopefully we'll avoid the all too common "Junuary" weather pattern.






Climbers have been unsuccessful in reaching the summit for almost a week due to weather and avalanche concerns - although challenging conditions have been welcome training conditions for climbers with their sights set on even loftier peaks.




Stop by the Climbing Information Center in Paradise for the most current information on the mountain. We're open everyday at 06:00 - come on up and talk to us early, the Paradise Inn is open again for the season and they do serve espresso!




See you on The Mountain.

Memorial Day Weekend

With the great weather and long weekend lots of climbers have been summitting. We've had successful summits via the following routes: Kautz Glacier, Tahoma Glacier, Liberty Ridge, Fuhrer Finger, Ingraham Direct, Emmons Glacier, and Gibraltar Ledges. The daytime sunshine has also been turning icy glaciers into good corn snow for great riding/skiing. The snow in Paradise still reaches the parking lot making for fun descents.

Climbing ranger David Gottlieb has just returned to Mount Rainier after another successful first ascent in Nepal. He and former climbing ranger Joe Puryear climbed Jobo Rinjang (6,778 meters). Check out http://www.climbnepal.blogspot.com/ for more information and some rad photos.
The weather continues to look clear and sunny for later this week. Come on up and enjoy the routes while they're still in great condition.