More About our Bok Tower Gardens Trip

As I said, this was Nathan's first trip to see Bok Tower. It was really overcast and looking like rain, so there wasn't a big crowd there. Which made it a nice day to visit.



As soon as you enter the front of the visitor center, you can see that this is going to be a pretty place.







Clearly this was a personal goal of Mr. Bok, as is shown in the quote over the entrance.



I think he definitely achieved it with this place.



The main attraction is still the tower, with the beautiful carillon music coming from it each day.

The break-up begins

Just got in from shooting tonight's sunset and after a warm day with bright sun the shoreline ice is really starting to break up in some areas. These chunks of ice were rolling around on the rocks as they were being pummeled by the waves. As each day gets longer and the sun gets higher, it's only a matter of time before this is gone for the year.

Manifest's Destiny: Thoughts on Utility Bikes and the Oregon Manifest Challenge

image via Jonathan Maus/ BikePortland.org

The Oregon Manifest took place over last weekend, and it was fascinating to follow. Having now become an annual tradition, this event is a competition among framebuilders - a "constructor's design challenge" - for creating the ultimate utility bike. What's a utility bike? You are not the only one who's wondering. Not only does everyone seem to have a different idea of the meaning of this concept, but the Manifest's parameters have shifted over time as well.

image via scurvy_knaves

In the first couple of years of the competition, most of the participating framebuilders submitted some version of modified racing bikes or French randonneur or porterur inspired bicycles: aggressive diamond frame bikes designed to carry a front load (I believe the requirement was a case of beer). Only some of the entries were equipped with proper lights, fenders and other basics. This approach was criticised for taking into account the needs and abilities of only a small portion of cyclists, and for not being sufficiently condusive to everyday use.

image via Jonathan Maus/ BikePortland.org

But the entries were radically different. Nearly all framebuilders submitted some version of a cargo bicycle - ranging from contemporary versions of long-tails, to long johns, to front load box bikes and tricycles resembling small houseboats. Electric assist was used on what seemed like half of them. Mixte or step-through designs on some.

image via Jonathan Maus/ BikePortland.org

With this in mind, it is somewhat ironic that this year's competition seems to have garnered even more criticism than I recall in previous years - and mostly from transportation cyclists. All weekend long there was exchange about it on twitter that has been summarised in this post by Dave Feucht on Portlandize - the gist of it being that the winning entries suffer from lack of real-world applicability, making the Oregon Manifest "irrelevant." Personally, I would not go that far.But - with the disclaimer that I did not actually attend the show and formed impressions based on photographic evidence - my personal view is that this year's competition went too far into the opposite direction from which it started.

image via Jonathan Maus/ BikePortland.org

Most of the designs I see in the show's documentation are so convoluted that I hardly know where to look, let alone how to operate the bikes. From side-cars, to bags suspended like hammocks, to complicated locking systems, to frames that look like they are designed for an acrobat, it seems to me that many framebuilders focused on bells and whistles rather than actual utility. It also seems like many of the builders worked in a vacuum - trying to design a cargo bike from scratch instead of taking into consideration the perfectly good, time-tested models that have been out there for decades.

image via Jonathan Maus/ BikePortland.org

I suspect the judges felt this as well - because the winning entry was fairly simple in comparison to the others. But I agree with Portlandize that an integrated stereo and carbon fiber lock box for your lunch do not make a bicycle a "car replacement."

image via Jonathan Maus/ BikePortland.org

There were a few bicycles in the show that - to my eye - were both simple and utilitarian, such as the Quixote/CleverCycles collaboration, the Rock Lobster bike, and the entry from Geekhouse. And my personal favourite in the show was the long tail + front loader by Retrotec/Inglis Cycles (above). The low step-through makes it accessible to everyone, regardless of gender and choice of clothing. The X-tracycle-based design and extra boards placed low in the rear allow for enormous loads as well as passengers, and the front utility rack allows for more cargo still. The design is harmonious and classic and the bicycle looks approachable to a moderately skilled cyclist - which I think is an important factor many builders tend to undermine.

image via Jonathan Maus / BikePortland.org

Finally, I agree with the comment on Portlandize that the Field Test part of the challenge - a 50 mile on and off road course over a mountain - is not representative of how a typical person in North America would wish to use a heavy-duty utility bike. It was a relevant test when the randonneurstyle bicycles were prevalent among the entries, but not for bikes like these - the whole point of which is to carry much more than is pictured, but over shorter distances.With all the talk of "car replacement" in the guidelines, a huge cargo-style family bike seems to not have been what the organisers of the Oregon Manifest had in mind.

image via Jonathan Maus/ BikePortland.org

There are many varieties of utility bikes out there and perhaps events such this would do better if they picked one and stuck to it, optimising all the aspects of the competition - including the field test - for testing that particular style of bicycle. There is a world of difference between randonneuring bicycles and long-johns, and a competition that is vague enough to include both - and then make them race against one another - is bound to evoke criticism.



"Identity before destiny" might be a motto to consider for next year's Oregon Manifest. And one could say that the same issue faces the utility bike market in North America at large. What do we mean by "car replacement?" Are stereos and electric assist must-have parts of the equation, or is it about ease of operation and hauling capacity? And is it reasonable to expect such a bicycle to win a 50 mile race?

Cascade on McWay Creek

A cascade upstream from the famous McWay Falls.

Fire in the Sky

Horsethief Lake, Columbia Hills State Park, Wishram, WashingtonSeptember 20, ..

Passion and Mediocrity

Prior to my interest in bicycles, I seldom seriously pursued activities that I wasn't good at. Mostly this was because I did not enjoy them. I always hated mathematics, chemistry and physics in school - subjects I was bad at, while I loved literature, history and art - subjects I was good at. Playing most sports was living hell, whereas performing in plays was exhilarating. Once in a while it would happen that I was good at something, but did not enjoy it: chess, tennis, leadership roles, jobs involving sales. But it almost never happened that I enjoyed something I was bad at. Doing something that we cannot do well is discouraging, embarrassing, and literally painful in the case of sports. Even if we like the idea of the activity, it is difficult to enjoy actually performing it, when all it does is highlight our weaknesses and make us experience failure again and again.



As a teenager I fell in love with Chopin, and got it into my head that I had tolearn how to play piano or life was not worth living. So I learned. For a late starter (I began at age 15), I wasn't bad. My teacher said that my ability to communicate emotion was ahead of my technique - which she meant as encouragement, since in her view the emotional part was more difficult. But I was terribly disappointed in myself. The more I practiced, the more aware I became of my technical limitations. I was sloppy, my fingers were not flexible enough, and I could not grasp music theory. For my 2nd year recital my teacher agreed to help me prepare two beautiful pieces that I had no business playing: Chopin's Prelude in E-minor and Tschaikovsky's Autumn. As far as "serious" music, these pieces are not difficult. But still to play them well required experience I did not have. I made no blatant mistakes. But I just didn't have sufficient control over my hands for the more nuanced passages and as I played in the recital I felt this acutely. The parents in the audience were thoroughly impressed by my performance. But after the recital one of the guest instructors approached and shook his finger at me: "Young lady, that was beautiful. But you should not be playing those pieces until your technique improves." And as he spoke, I knew that I did not have it in me: that I would never improve beyond mediocrity and would never be truly good enough for these pieces, no matter how much I slaved over the keyboard. I could use my ability to play "emotionally" to mask poor technique, but I would feel like a fraud. It was painful to be aware of this and my personality was not strong enough to withstand it. I quit piano within a year and took this as a lesson to save my energy for things I could truly excel at. Piano would never be one of them.






And, of course, neither would skating. No matter how much I loved watching the figure skaters on television and wished to be one of them in my younger years, it seemed stupid to waste my time to pursue something where my natural ability was so far below average. Yet now something's changed, and I find myself putting my self-esteem to the test at local skating rinks - shuffling around like an injured duckling as others around me execute graceful spins, jumps, and other displays of skill. The Co-Habitant tried to skate a week ago, and turned out to be a natural. Others too get on the ice for the first time in their lives, and after a half hour they are already gliding easily. Clearly I am a special case of ineptitude when it comes to skating. I am trying to decide how this makes me feel, and oddly it's not too bad. I am not even embarrassed, I just accept it. I also accept that even if I throw myself into learning how to skate with an obsessive passion, the end result of my dedication and hard work will be mediocrity, at best. Maybe I am older now and my ego can take it, because knowing this feels okay: I want to learn how to glide smoothly, how to turn, and how to stop without falling, and maybe if I am lucky, to eventually execute a leg lift like the girl in the picture. Those are my meager aspirations, and somehow they seem worthwhile despite the fact that I will likely have to work 10 times as hard as "normal" people to achieve them.




Watching the figure skaters practice at the Skating Club of Boston reminds me of my first visit to the Velodrome in Vienna. Seeing how unattainable the track cyclists' level of skill was for someone like me did not put me off road and fixed gear cycling. I realised then that I saw value in pursuing cycling as a sport independent of my ability to succeed in it. It was good for my character to have to work hard at something I loved, even if it yielded disappointing results, rather than to accept praise for being "talented" at things I was naturally good at. Talent, after all, is not an achievement - it is simply there.






My pursuit of cycling over the past 3 years - starting from a place where I didn't know how to turn other than using the handlebars and needed to have both feet flat on the ground while in the saddle - has been one of the most rewarding experiences of my life. This may seem ludicrous to those who know me in person in light of my other "achievements" and life experiences. Nevertheless, my passion for this activity that I am at best mediocre at, has taught me more about myself than I probably wanted to know. It broke down some of my defenses that kept me from understanding my true goals in life and it has made me more comfortable with myself overall.




It is hard to say whether, generally speaking, there is value in pursuing things we are bad at. Sure, we can make the argument that facing one's limitations and attempting to work through them - whether successfully or not - builds character. But we can also make the argument that it is more worthwhile to pursue the things we are good at, in the hopes of achieving true excellence - which could benefit not only ourselves, but in some cases society as a whole. In the end it is about the individual's life journey. During mine I found that passion and mediocrity can co-exist.

Moonlight Sentinel

Last Friday night my friend Roger and I went out in search of the northern lights. The space weather forecast looked promising for a good showing of the Aurora, however nature had other plans. We watched and waited until almost 3:00 AM but never saw any lights. We did, however, experience some incredible moonlight. Almost the entire night there were these low-altitude, fast-moving clouds drifting by overhead. When we came upon this pine tree with the moon directly behind it, we knew we had to photograph the scene. This photo was made at 1:25 AM and was a 30 second exposure taken with a Canon EF 17-40mm lens.