City Bikes with Mountain Bike Heritage

A distinct category of transportation bicycles that has emerged in parallel to the contemporary classic Dutch bikes and English roadsters, is the city bike with mountain bike heritage. I have tried four distinct bicycles from this genre so far: the Retrovelo, the Urbana, the Pilen, and the Paper Bicycle.



The lugged Retrovelo is the most deceptively traditional looking of the bunch. But behind the facade of an elegant European city bicycle, it is essentially a remake of an early mountain bike design - made speedier with the fast rolling Schwalbe Fat Frank tires (originally made for Retrovelo and named after its designer Frank Patitz). When I rode a Retrovelo for the first time, I noticed that its handling felt different from that of Dutch city bikes and English roadsters, but could not articulate how or why. Having now tried other bicycles with MTB roots, it makes more sense.



The swan-framedPilen surprised me with an even more dramatic difference in handling from traditional European city bikes. Its "unfellability" reminded me of one of those roly-poly toys that stay upright no matter how far you try to push them to the side. It was on the Pilen that I overcame my dislike of cycling on grassy hills and rock-strewn trails. And with its Schwalbe Big Apples in 700C, it towered over other bikes in city traffic while also breezily rolling over rough terrain.



Pushing the limits of my aesthetic open-mindedness, the Urbana is basically a downhill mountain bike redesigned with a low step-over U-frame, fitted with BMX handlebars, and equipped with all the contraptions necessary for transportational cycling - including a rear rack that, together with the frame design, allows the bike to carry an insane amount of weight without impacting handling. Unabashedly industrial looking, the Urbana does not aim at classic prettiness. But it sure rides well - rolling over substantial road debris and hopping curbs on its 2.6" wide tires with monster-truck ease and city bike grace.



And then there is the Paper Bicycle. With its seemingly bizarre construction, this bike manages to combine an upright sitting position with the type of "bad ass" mountain-bikey handling that inspired me to actually try riding it down a steep rocky hill (successfully). On top of that, it is responsive enough to ride long distance, as a single speed.



Knowing fairly little about mountain bike design (other than that they have a "low center of gravity" - which means what, exactly, as far as frame construction goes?..), I am not in a position to offer a technical analysis of these bicycles. But as a cyclist who has tried a myriad of city bikes at this point, I can feel a common thread in their handling. Granted, "stability" is a vague term. But theirs is a distinct brand of stability that I for one find useful in a city bike. The same qualities that make these bicycles stable off-road, are what makes them unexpectedly reassuring in traffic, indifferent to crater-sized potholes, and immune to unexpected road debris. There is more to it, but alas, I lack the vocabulary to describe it.



While mountain bikes have been used for transportation for decades, their sluggish tires, bouncy suspension forks, derailleur gearing and lack of fenders made them sub-optimal for this purpose. Also, allow me to be honest: Contemporary mountain bikes are rather ugly. But harvesting their best characteristics while optimising them for urban transport and aiming for a more classic look, seems like an excellent recipe for a fun, reliable and versatile city bike.

5.10 Redemption? Bonnie's Roof Direct (5.9), Directississima aka Doubleissima (5.10b) & Retribution (5.10b)

(Photo: Eying the intimidating exit on Bonnie's Roof Direct (5.9).)After two days of great climbing in Colorado, I was feeling in shape for the three-day Labor Day weekend. Gail invited us to stay at her house in Gardiner. Of course Gail and I couldn't just ignore our spouses and disappear for three days. It worked out that we climbed in the morning on each of the three days, leaving the afternoons free for other activities. This worked out for both of our families and it was plenty of climbing for me. It meant that, putting the climbing days in Colorado and the Gunks together, I got to climb on five out of the nine days from August 26 to September 3. I've never had a run of climbing like that before.I wanted to hit it pretty hard in the Gunks. I was climbing well in Colorado and I thought there must be a 5.10 I could slay over the Gunks weekend. For some reason I had my heart set on Directississima/Doubleissima (5.10b). I knew in advance that this wasn't the easiest 5.10 out there. Maryana had told me she thought it was really hard. Dana had advised me that it was one to save for later. It appeared super-sustained and steep. But ever since I'd done the neighboring Ridicullissima (5.10d) on top rope and really enjoyed it I had been dying to come back and try Doubleissima. I just love that steep face. It calls to me. And I thought the pro would be good, so why not try it? I told Gail I wanted to go for it on Saturday.Gail suggested I try Bonnie's Direct as a warm-up, which seemed like a wonderful idea. Bonnie's is such a great classic line. The regular route, with its easyish 5.9 (historically 5.8+) first pitch and the exciting, 5.7 traversing second pitch, is one of my favorites. The first pitch was one of my first 5.9 leads in , and I believe I followed it once (and then led the second pitch) in , but I hadn't been back in two years, and I'd never done the direct finish.(Photo: Leading the regular pitch two (5.7) of Bonnie's Roof back in .)On Saturday the first pitch was a joy. That opening roof is so satisfying. The hardest move for me is the little stretch to get to just underneath the overhang. Once you are there, you can throw a big blue # 3 Camalot into the space behind the point of the roof and go. The holds are awesome.Soon enough it was time to confront the second pitch: the direct finish. People seem to think this variation is really hard. Dick Williams gives it a 5.9 rating is his book. Swain says 5.9+, and I have heard others suggest it is really a 5.10. It certainly looks challenging from below. A thin vertical crack appears to be the only means with which to surmount the big overhang.But looks can be deceiving. It turns out to be pretty easy. There is a bomber edge out there. I don't want to spell it all out, but look around, people! I can see how it would be really hard using only the crack to jam your way out. But using my patented secret edge, the initial overhang is pretty straightforward, and then the exit to the top, left past another two-tiered roof, is all jugs. I think the direct finish is no harder than 5.9. It is exposed and thrilling but a little too short. Having finished both ways, I think I prefer the regular 5.7 exit.After Bonnie's Direct went down so easily I was pumped up for Doubleissima. This was going to be fun. Or so I thought.Doubleissima kicked my ass.
(Photo: Gail almost through the crux bulge on Doubleissima (5.10b), after I bailed off to the right. Unlike me, she made it look easy.)

The first pitch was not a problem. There are two crack systems next to each other; both are 5.8. Gail said the one on the right has better pro, so I did that one. She also told me that most people combine this short pitch right into the next one, so I decided I would too. I got through the pitch without using any of my favorite pieces, and figured I might as well continue without stopping.

The real business begins early in the second pitch. The crux bulge comes pretty quickly off the ledge, and it is hard! The going is steep, and then a long reach is needed to get through the bulge to a good hold. There are intermediate holds but they aren't that great.

I wanted to protect this section well, so I placed one cam, and then another. Eventually I had three good cams in the crux. I wore myself out placing all the gear and fiddling with it. But the gear wasn't my only problem. I also didn't want to make the big move so I tried a number of different ways to get my feet up. Through all of this experimentation I did a mixture of holding on, then eventually hanging and falling. I don't even know how many times I went up and retreated or dropped down.

Finally I just went for the move and I made it. I was over the bulge at last, but the damage was done. My arms were on fire and with each step I wanted to place a piece because I was afraid I would peel off. The going was still so steep. I had expected it would ease off a bit more after the bulge. I was losing control. I had to admit I was defeated. At this point I desperately wanted to be off of that wall. I didn't even want to try the roof that is the second crux.

I saw a good horizontal handrail going all the way to the gully to the right and decided to bail. I headed directly across the gully to the High E rap bolts. We ended up doing less than half the second pitch. Gail, following the pitch, sailed right through the one hard part that I'd tackled.

I left Doubleissima feeling destroyed. I was totally drained afterwards. We tried to do another climb and I barely got through it. I was done for the day. I felt so wrecked I worried I might not be able to do much climbing for the rest of the weekend.

But after an afternoon at the pool and a good night's rest Gail and I had a great morning in the Nears on Sunday. (More on that later.) And on the holiday Monday, back in the Trapps, I felt like I was really climbing well again. (More on that later.) Gail suggested that we finish our weekend of climbing together with Retribution (5.10b).

(Photo: Gail cruising the crux moves on Retribution (5.10b).)

Now, just about everyone has toproped Retribution (and its neighbor Nosedive (5.10b)) at one time or another. It sits right there tempting you at the beginning of the cliff near the parking lot, looming directly above the carriage road. And it is so easy to set it up by running up Bunny (5.4) to the left.

For the longest time I avoided toproping or following Retribution because I was saving it for the onsight. I wanted to walk up and lead it without any rehearsal. In there were several occasions on which I nearly gave it a whirl.

But I never did, and then I broke my ankle and spent a year recovering my lead head. Along the way I gave up all that baloney about saving climbs for the onsight and ended up toproping it once with Vass, and then following both Adrian and Maryana up Retribution when they led it on separate occasions.

So when Gail suggested that I lead it on Monday I was already familiar with the demands of the climb. And I knew that even though it, like Doubleissima, is rated 5.10b, Retribution is a much much easier climb than Doubleissima. The crux is short, just moving past the little roof. The rest of the way is 5.8 or 5.9. My only real worry was that I'd get through the crux but be exhausted and then fall before getting good gear in the shallow corner directly above the roof. Or that in a spate of nervousness I'd blow the crux and never make it over the roof.

I needn't have worried. It went fine. I felt really good. My footwork was solid and the fingerlocks in the crux felt huge. I scampered past the roof and up the little corner, alarming Gail a little with how long I continued before placing gear above the roof.

This was my first 5.10b trad lead. Though I was happy about it I didn't feel like it erased my fiasco on Doubleissima, from which I stumbled off feeling like I wasn't even close to ready to lead 5.10b. But with the rosy glow of hindsight I'm starting to feel like trying Doubleissima again. Even though I failed, I was never unsafe. If I can place two of the three pieces I had last time, but put them in quickly, and then go for the move through the bulge right away-- no hesitation-- then maybe I could get it. Just maybe.

Morning Dance

As the sun rises each morning over the Platte River in Central Nebraska, it is a regular activity for the cranes, as they are waking up, to stretch their wings and sometimes do a little dance for their partners or potential partners. After they stretch they will often jump up and down in the air, flapping their wings and exhibiting a number of other "dance" moves for any partner that might be interested :-)

Our Nutty Weekend

A few weeks ago I showed a handful of pecan kernels under the smart-alec caption Ha-Ha Harvest... now I must eat my words - and they are delicious! This is the best pecan year in 3 decades according to Austin, Texas newspaper articles. I don't know who planted ours, but pecan trees may not have been the best choice for a quarter-acre lot. They grow too large and drop something in every season... husks, leaves, pollen flowers, limbs and tent caterpillar debris. The trees were already here when we came, giving shade and once in a long while - bestowing a harvest.

Some of you live where pecans grow so you may have seen the green husks emerging in spring near the long yellowish pollen flowers. Maybe you've also watched the nuts develop as the husks swell all summer long. We had no experience with pecan trees until we saw husks form during our three summers at this house.
If you're a Texan or a Southerner you probably knew what the nuts should look like at harvest time - we had no clue. No edible nuts made it to harvest time here in ..... or ..... or ... We'd been in a period of drought so the husks were taken unripe by squirrels and only the 'empties' were left behind to fall off - no wonder the online articles didn't tell us how to get the nuts out of those thick green husks - Nature is supposed to do it! This year we finally saw how things are supposed to happen: the husks gradually open and dry up, with the points curling back, revealing the beautiful tawny nut inside. Instead of waiting for them to drop, we got on ladders and took any that looked close to ready before the squirrels got them. They were still hard to open and there were many empties or bad kernels. A post by Susan Albert clued us in that the nuts needed to be dried first. That made a big difference.We had to crack a lot of nuts to get good kernels but when the wonderful Divas of the Dirt showed up on Saturday the table had this arrangement of Texas-grown sunflowers from Whole Foods, and we had nut bread for breakfast - made with our own pecans.
[Thank you, Entangled for making that suggestion in a comment! ]
As a member of the Divas I get one turn a year to be hostess, serving breakfast and lunch to my friends. It's fun to cook for them, and we need fuel to work on whatever garden project the hostess has set up. My last turn was in February of .. when the Divas helped me transplant three spiraeas to start the bat-shaped bed. They also moved some large container plants from weather shattered clay pots to unbreakable containers. That day we had off/on rain and barely got to 50º.
This time the weather was sunny with a high of 90º. I asked my friends to get rid of some more lawn grass and enlarge the 28-foot long border along the fence where the Acoma crepe myrtles grow. The bed was too narrow, the edge was uneven and it had become shadier since the crepe myrtles finally 'took'. Adding a foot-and-a-half along the front edge would make space to move sun plants languishing in shadow.
I won't tell the whole story of what happened on Saturday - that only happens once a year at the end of January on the Diva website - but here's how the long border looked today, after wind, rain and an overnight drop in temperature.
Something else dropped last night - the wind blew down the pecans from the top of the tree where our ladders couldn't reach. We picked up all that we could find, washed them and they're drying on racks in the garage.I hope the proportion of good nuts is high enough for more nut bread - or maybe a traditional Thanksgiving pecan pie.
Some other Austin gardeners have pecan trees, too - and have not had much of a harvest in previous years. Maybe MSS from Zanthan Gardens and Lee from The Grackle were lucky in .., too - is anyone else out there enjoying this bumper crop? Edited October 24: The percentage of good nuts is pretty high - and my scientist husband notes that it's taking about 100 of them to make one pound of shelled pecans. Susan Albert sent a link to LSU's Ag Center with advice on how to store pecans. Thank you, Susan!

Winter's Day on Mt. Rose

Went for a snowshoe hike up Mt. Rose today. Man, it was beautiful out there! What a delight tromping through the woods with a foot of fresh, light and fluffy snow! Today we had beautiful blue skies and a warm 30 degree temp with no wind... TERRIFIC day to be outside!

Booze and Fast Cars

As if this area didn't have enough neat things already, it also has lots of booze and fast cars. There are vineyards, winery, and distilleries galore. And there are classic car and race car related things everywhere too. Watkins Glen has car shaped road signs and plaques in the sidewalks.

The first weekend we were here, there was a Classic Car event. I didn't grab many pictures of the cars because the area was so congested, it made it hard to drive, let alone snap pictures. Aric got to stand by some other beauties at the library one day.

From Watkins Glen Chamber of Commerce website: The community recently celebrated its 60^th anniversary of road racing.The checkered flag first dropped here in 1948 … a time when man and machine used the village streets and hillsides for its race course.Today, Watkins Glen International hosts a full calendar of international motor racing events on a world-class raceway.The original racetrack has been recognized on the National Register of Historic Places … the Village celebrates its road racing heritage each year with the Watkins Glen Vintage Grand Prix Festival…where the cars return to streets for a day of racing on the original course.

And their information about the agriculture here:

Seneca Lake provides the ideal climatic environment for the areas wine-making enterprises and we lay claim to being the second largest wine producing region in the United States … second only to Napa Valley.

Over 700 feet deep, Seneca Lake’s glacial “lake effect” shelters the lush vineyards that flank her shores.

Retaining residual summer warmth in the winter and winter’s cold in the spring, the vineyards receive protection from disastrous spring frosts during grape formation and early fall frosts before the harvest.

In 2005 the area boasted 42 wineries on Seneca Lake … currently, more than 50 wineries, of the over 90 in the Finger Lakes region, open their doors to visitors from all over the world.



Beautiful, just beautiful!

Eek

Who besides me is thinking of Bladerunner now?

For more critters, visit The Friday Ark.

Surviving a Paceline Training Ride

[image via alharbiseye]



Well, I did it. I showed up at the weekly women's paceline training ride that is organised by a local cycling team. The very same one I've been talking about forever. It was the first ride of the season and I figured that I should just go, before I lose my nerve and spend every week telling myself "maybe next time" while the entire summer goes by. So I went, and apparently survived - though just barely. Let me tell you about it from the beginning...



It was overcast and threatening to rain all afternoon, but I checked the team's website before leaving the house, and the ride was on. The meeting point was in Lexington, MA - which is 10 miles from where I live. I rode my bike there, taking care to go at a leisurely pace so that I wouldn't already be tired upon arrival. I was so nervous, that I needed all of those 10 miles just to calm down.



I spotted the meeting location immediately. There was a crowd of several dozen women in roadie attire and as many bikes lying on the grass and propped up against trees. My heart sank as I saw them. I guess I had expected more of a mix: Some women on modern carbon fiber and others on old 10-speeds; some in clipless shoes and others not; some in lycra and others in gym shorts. But no: Every single person there had a super-light modern roadbike with "brifters." Every single person there was wearing clipless shoes. Not a soul had a kickstand, fenders or racks on their bike but me. Not a soul had a bag attached to their bike. No one else had, um, a twined stainless steel water bottle. And all wore lycra - the club-affiliated cyclists readily distinguishable by their team kit. Thankfully, at least I wore my wool cycling knickers and jersey and not something more casual. Reluctantly, I approached.



Greeted by a woman in team kit who looked like she was in charge, I was pointed to a bench where everybody was signing waivers. I made the mistake of starting to read the waiver, but the things described there were so horrible that I stopped and just signed it. When I returned to the spot I'd left my bike, two other women-in-charge were gathered in front of it. Was this my bike? Yes... The one I was planning to ride? Yes... They examined my Rivendelltouring bike as if it were a 100-year-old antique or a creature from outer space. There was some debate as to whether it would be allowed: My bicycle was extremely heavy, the tires were too wide, and I did't have the right shifters. I would have trouble doing the ride. Was this even a roadbike? Only roadbikes were allowed. Finally, the senior-most woman was called to resolve the issue. In the end my bicycle was deemed allowable, but I was warned that I might have trouble doing the ride; in the long run I would need a different bike. I tried not to get too intimidated by this. The group I planned to join was described as "paceline learning skills for beginners, 12-15mph." I could ride at that speed with my eyes closed (just a figure of speech, don't worry), so all I had to do was focus on the skills. So I stayed.



The crowd was split into groups and the beginner's group consisted of eight of us: six newcomers and two leaders. The leaders gave us a brief explanation of what it meant to ride in a paceline: The group cycles in a single-file procession, staying close to each other's wheels in a straight line. When the person in front gets tired, they move over to the left and drift to the back of the line, then merge with the paceline in the rear. This gets repeated every few minutes. One thing that makes perfect sense but I hadn't realised in advance, is that you cannot coast in a paceline. Whether going fast or slow, cyclists must keep pedaling at all times, because that is how members of the paceline are able to maintain uniform speed - they synchronise their leg movements. So, coasting is forbidden. Hard braking is also forbidden, as it can cause the person behind to crash into you. To slow down, you need to keep pedaling while "feathering" the brakes. Finally, there is a system of signals that members of a paceline must use - from the person in front indicating that they will move to the left now, to warning about potholes, to asking to merge into the middle of the paceline if you are drifting back on the left and there is a car coming. We were quickly shown all of these, and without further ceremony we set off on our 20 mile ride through rolling hills.



Apparently I am an extremely poor judge of my own strengths and weaknesses when it comes to cycling. I had thought that my biggest problem would be technique. I expected to experience debilitating fear when cycling 6" behind someone's wheel, to be dangerously clumsy at executing paceline maneuvers, and to be slow on the uptake whenever instructions were given. On the other hand, I expected myself to have no problem at all with the pace and terrain of the ride: I mean, 12-15mph? Please!



Instead, the exact opposite happened: I found the paceline training itself to be natural and had no problems with technique. I behaved predictably and signaled appropriately. I didn't coast and I feathered the brakes, modulating my speed smoothly (having ridden fixed gear made this pretty intuitive actually). I reacted quickly and calmly when instructions were given to me. I never once swerved or did anything crazy out of fear or incompetence. In short: all my worries about being poorly coordinated and getting flustered around other cyclists were completely unfounded.



On the other hand, keeping up with the pace proved to be challenging and I wishI could say it was the bike's fault. I don't know how to explain it. Maybe it was the no-coasting thing that did me in, combined with the fact that 15mph was the typical speed on flats, with 12mph being the uphillspeed and 25mph the downhill speed (while still trying not to break the paceline). Anyhow, I felt extremely unfit on the uphill portions of the ride, huffing and puffing as I struggled not to lose the wheel of the person in front of me. On these occasions, the leader cycled alongside attempting to reassure me: "You see now?... You're at a real disadvantage with that bike... But you're doing well... Breathe... That's right... Good... Next time, different bike..."



Truthfully, I don't know whether it was the poor bike's fault or mine. All the other girls on the ride were athletes of some sort - runners or "spinners" (i.e. at the gym, on stationary bikes), looking to transition to roadcycling as a new sport to try. My background is very different. I am not an athlete and have never been an athlete. And I have done zero exercise all winter other than riding upright bikes for transportation. So maybe it's really a case of "next time, stronger leg muscles." I would be curious to try the same ride on a modern roadbike and see whether it's any less difficult, but I am skeptical.



There were other problems with my bike on this ride: Namely, the shifters, brake levers and possibly even handlebars. With my friction bar-end shifters, I was at a distinct disadvantage to the other girls, who could shift instantaneously thanks to their indexed "brifters." It was a little ridiculous actually. Moreover, moving my hand to the edge of the right handlebar in order to shift was problematic, because it is a similar gesture to the signal used for indicating pulling over to the left (you have to wiggle your right elbow). In that sense, using bar-ends in a paceline where no one knows what they are has the potential to cause an accident if the person behind me interprets my changing gears as inviting them to move forward. Do I want to be responsible for that?... As for using the drops: I cannot modulate my brakes well from that position because of how my handlebars are shaped and set up, and so I only brake from the hoods. When going downhill, the leader wanted us all to get in the drops for maximum "aerotuck." She kept telling me to do this, but I refused because it wasn't a safe position for me to feather the brakes from. So I stayed on the hoods, but bent my elbows so much that my chin was practically on my handlebars, achieving the aerodynamic positioning they wanted. They were okay with it under the circumstances... but it was yet more evidence of my needing a different bike - with shallow drops and with brake levers I could modulate from all positions.



If all of this sounds like a miserable, degrading struggle, then I've done a good job of describing it. It went on for an hour and a half as we cycled past farms, forests and highways practicing paceline maneuvers. But there were a few minor advantages to my bike as well. At some point it began to rain, and the group leaders grew alarmed - contemplating shortcuts back in case the rain continued. At first I could not understand what the problem was, but eventually realised that their bikes were prone to "wiping out" on wet terrain. Thankfully, that is one problem I don't have on my own bike. There was also a fear of sand. Sand on the road was signaled down the paceline as if it were a pothole to avoid. Not something I normally worry about. While these advantages were fairly minor compared to the disadvantages I experienced, they provided at least some relief.



We arrived back at the meeting point just as it was growing dark, and the girls began taking their bikes to their cars. When they learned that I had cycled from Somerville and now planned to cycle back, several of them offered to give me a lift. But I opted for a quiet ride home on the (now pitch-black) Minuteman Trail, to review the evening'e events in my head and relax. I cycled slowly as the lights on my bike illuminated my path. It was a beautiful night, and when the rain started up again the smell of the surrounding meadows grew pleasantly strong. I never, ever had to do the paceline ride again if didn't want to, but could just quietly cycle in the dark like this on my own forever. And yet?...

Colchuck Peak

Colchuck Peak, in the Stuart Range, was to be our first real climb of 2007. We camped near the trailhead the night before and then got a 4:00am start on the climb. The road to the trailhead was closed due to a mudslide that needed to be cleaned up. We pushed and rode bikes for 4 miles up the dry gravel road.




Mark crossing the bridge over Mountaineer Creek.



Doug, Mike and Dave enjoying the view.


Dragontail Peak is on the left, Colchuck Peak is on the right and the Colchuck Glacier is in-between. Our route would start directly below the summit as seen from this angle. Colchuck Lake was still frozen. We were able to save a lot of time by going straight across the lake.



Our route was the North Buttress Couloir (NBC). It is the snowy strip going up the left side of this photo. This is the NE side of the peak.





Heading up the lower part of the NBC. The snow was in great shape on this side of the peak. We could easily kick in steps and they were solid.





Dave, the moraine and the end of the lake.






We made it up to the notch and crossed over to the NW side of Colchuck. The snow on this side was loose dry powder.







Mark with Colchuck Lake in background.








Mark, Doug and Dave on top of Colchuck Peak with Mt. Stuart and Sherpa Peak behind us.









The Colchuck Glacier consisted of hard icy snow. We were numb by the time we finished glissading down to the lake!








Dave takes a lot of flower pictures. Here is just one. We hopped back on the bikes, made good time coasting down to the pickup, ate some real food and headed for home.

Lions, Tigers & Bears Animal Sanctuary Tour

We have been so fortunate to visit many animal refuges since we began our full time journey. What we did not know until recently is how many are located right near where we are this winter. Today we visited one that was another short drive from the campground. Like the Great Ape sanctuary, this one was very hidden and is not open to the public. You can only come with a group for a scheduled tour.



We had a group of ten or so people that headed out first thing this morning and visited this neat place.



The refuge is named Lions, Tigers & Bears and we saw all three of those animals in this beautiful country setting.



There were many other interesting animals living here also.





We did a tour with one of the dedicated owners and she shared many neat facts about the animals as a breed and their individual stories. One of the things I love about these tours is seeing the animals interact with the people who dedicate their lives to the cause of saving animals.





It is clear they know them well and it is also clear they know where their food source is.





I think we all enjoyed this tour, and some of us were really entertained by the animals.



Or maybe it was some of us were really entertaining to the animals.



Or maybe it was both! Either way, we enjoyed our time here and stopped and had lunch at the Pioneer Restaurant on the way home. I will try to share more pictures of the animals over the next few days.




Living the life in animal loving Florida!