The Power Nap..a cautionary tale

A couple of years ago in early winter we walked into a local peak, climbed it and walked back out. With the nap I took walking out Iwas just over 24 hrs c2c. My partner a few hrs less.







Nothing exceptional for time. A bit of the climbing was spectacular. The walk? It was long enough. Longer than I wanted it to be. Shorter than it can be.



But this story has nothing to do with climbing or walks. It is all about the Power Nap.



I love a good nap when I amtired or better yet when I am tired and warm. Preferably with the sun shining on me in a protected, comfortable and safe place.



The power nap I spoke about above has a few of the elements. I was tired. Protected? Not so much I just laid down on my pack off to the side of the trail and let the cold wake me up.



Here is the rest of that story and the end result.



http://coldthistle.blogspot.com//11/immersion-foot.html



Seems reasonable. Wet and cold feet pounded in a few hrs of hard walking in, on and out.



So then I decided to take another power nap. This time at 12K feet in the sun and it was AWESOME! It felt amazingly great. I was warm and cozy and comfortable out of the wind and soaking in the last bit of sunshine I knew would be the last I would see for awhile. My feet weren't wet or cold this time. Dry and warm as matter of fact. The one thing that both naps did have in common was tightly laced single boots that I couldn't be bothered to unlace for a nap. Dumb! Really dumb in retrospect.







A great place for a power nap!





So?? The result of my second power nap? Pretty much the same result as from my 1st power nap with wet and cold feet a couple of years previous...fooked up feet.









After both of these "power naps" I ended up walking for another hr or so each time after I woke up. My feet felt a little weird but never thought they had been damaged. More like they had fallen asleep a bit, not fully numb,but woke up with the additional milage. Both times the resulting nerve damage came as a surprise a few days later.



Now before you pass me off as a nut case...,OK, may be that already has happened. But in my defense I have spent a few nights out up high in the middleof the Canadian/Cascade winter and early spring in Alaska at much colder tempswith little or no gear and not fooked up my feet. The difference you ask? Well I generally spent the majority of time on those trips bouncing around trying to keep warm. I didn't lay down and take a power nap. I was more worried about getting back to some place warm enough so I could take good nap and be sure to wake up again.



The lesson? It might be obvious by nowfor any rational person ;-). If you are prone to taking power naps, mid trip, take the time to unlace your boots early on. You'll likely be happy you did.

Have some Fun - make your own tombstone

Dick Eastman posted Make Your Own Online Tombstone with a link to the site. There is a maximum of 16 characters, including spaces, in each of the first 2 rows and 25 characters in the third row.

Mr. Eastman has issued a challenge from his blog: "... submit humorous or otherwise interesting words for use on a tombstone and post those words in the comments section" on his blog post." He will change the image in his post every day to reflect one of the latest submissions. Two weeks from today, he will change it to whatever he deems to be the funniest or most interesting tombstone message received and will leave that image online there forever. Here's your chance to have your words etched in (digital) stone!

Try it, Have Some Fun!! Here is what I came up with:

Tipped Off

Tipped Off, originally uploaded by ParsecTraveller.

A tidy tip among owl's clover at Shell Creek Road.

Going Crazy With Scanning...

It has been a month since the last update on my scanning project, and I'm sure y'all are eagerly anticipating this update ;-) At that time I had completed scanning my personal photographs and had a good start on Mom's pictures, which netted a little over 3,800 image files in a three month time period.

The prep work for the most recent group of pictures has taken considerably longer than the actual scanning. I didn't keep track of the time, but it consumed a lot of hours. However, in the past week I've scanned another 845 family pictures! With that, the albums for my two brothers and myself are done! Done, I say! Yay! That's the good news. Bad news is that the pictures for my sister's family still need to be scanned - they are being sorted and organized by my niece. My guess is there is a couple hundred pictures yet to be scanned. Big Sigh. But the end is in sight! At least, for the pictures… genea documents are still waiting.

While sorting the family pictures I came across a bunch of photos from Phend Reunions. Those were pulled out and put with the Reunion albums. Then I organized the Phend Reunion papers from the 1960s through the present day and put them in the albums with their corresponding pictures. Scanning the papers and pictures resulted in 615 image files. (The Phend-Fisher Family Reunion Ledger which covers the early years had been scanned, transcribed, and posted to the blog in the latter part of ...)

Then, as I was rummaging through a box looking for something I came across my grandmother's genealogy "book" and realized that I had never scanned it in its entirety. Most of the pictures had been scanned at one time or another but not all of them, and not the family group sheets. The book has a "post-hole" type of binder that easily comes apart so it wasn't a problem to scan each page individually and then put it back in its proper place. The pages are just a little bit larger than legal size. Placement on the scanner was critical so that no data was lost. There were 90 pages with 116 pictures, ending up with 206 scans for that project. I went ahead and scanned all of the pictures again because I wasn't really happy with the previous scans from several years ago.

And, as reported in my 3rd update for the Genea-Blogger Games, I scanned 74 newspaper clippings on the Phend family that were in the Whitley County Historical Museum's "family clippings" files. I've since created a name index of the clippings for reference purposes.

Image files created from scanning in the past month: 1,611

• 845 family pictures
• 206 pages and pictures in Grandma's Genealogy Book
• 486 Phend Reunion documents (sign-in sheets, announcements, flyers, etc.) and pictures
• 74 Phend Family newspaper clippings

Total number of scanned image files created since mid-April: 5,434

Maude Wise Brubaker Yontz, aka "Mama" or "Grandma Bill", with her grandchildren. About 1933. From the Genealogy "Book" of my grandmother, Hazlette Brubaker Phend, which is now in my possession.

Clementine Pradal

Here at jjobrienclimbing we've had hundreds of letters from readers asking "When are you going to add some sophistication to your blog".

Hey, what was wrong with Big Al?............. OK, OK, I hear you.

So here's Clementine Pradal. She's French, she's stylish and she climbs in pearl earings.



Sophisticated enough?











That's Damo in the background, more from him later.







Clem works Coolm Cave's icon 26, "Screaming Insanity".

I'mconfident the stylish bloggers over at Red Phoenix Styleare going toaward Clemtheir highest approval.































Even Princess Russ never lookedthis good at the Cave.





Clem grew up climbing real mountains (in the French Pyrenees) with her family. Before she could walk she would climb mountains.



Two years ago she climbed 22's and hated anything and everything steep. Now she loves steep routes, enjoys falling (sometimes!), secretly hates slabs and climb's mid-20's.















Oo, nice chalk bag jj







All that stylish climbing can wear a girl out.

The Estate of John Rupert :: The First “Final Account”

The will of John Rupart dated October 17, 1828 was admitted to probate in Columbiana County, Ohio in August of 1831. On August 5th 1832 a “final account” was prepared and submitted to the Court of Common Pleas.





First page of Final Account dated August 5th 1832.Estate of John Rupart. Packet 1439. Family History Library microfilm 2032592.

The final account of Conrad Yerian and David Erhart

as Executors of the last will and testament of

John Rupart late of the county of Columbiana deceased.



The appraisment was on the 3d September 1831

when goods were appraised to the amount of - - - - - - - - $106.51



The sale of the personal estate was on the 24th

September when goods were sold to amount of - - - - - - $



These accountants charge themselves with

the amount of the sale bill - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - $144.21



These accountants claim a credit for the following

sums paid on account of the estate

1831 Augt 20 - - No 1 - - Paid Peter Spangler - - - Auc - - - $5.00

1831 Sept 3 - - - No 2 - - Paid Joseph Morris - - - taxes - - - 1.04

1831 Sept 23 - - No 3 - - Paid David Arter - - - - - Auc - - - - 0.75

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - $6.79



Costs of Administration

1831 Sptr 2 - - No 4 - - Paid C. D. Coffin Clk - - - - - - - - - - - 5.25

1831 Sptr 30 - No 5 - - Paid Michael Arter qualifying [?] Appr - 0.37 ½

1832 Jany 18 – No 6 - - Paid Philip Andre Appr - - - - - - - - - - 0.50

1832 Jany 18 – No 7 - - Paid Peter Crossinger Appr - - - - - - - 0.50

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Amount Carried over $7.62 ½





Second page of Final Account dated August 5th 1832.Estate of John Rupart. Packet 1439. Family History Library microfilm 2032592.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Amount brought over $7.62 ½

1832 Jany 18 - - No 8 - - - Paid Joshua Copeland crying sale - - - 2.00

1832 Jany 18 - - No 9 - - - Paid David Wiley Appr - - - - - - - - - - 0.50

1832 Jany 29 - - No 10 - - Paid C. D. Coffin Clk - - - - - - - - - - 1.00

1832 May 19 - - No 11 - - Paid C. D. Coffin Clk - - - - - - - - - - - 0.40

1832 Sptr 24 - - No 12 - - Paid William Morgan Clerking - - - - - - 0.75

1832 Augt 22 - - No 13 - - Paid Fisker A. Blackman Atty Fee - - - 5.00

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - $17.30 ½



To the Honorable Court of Common Pleas for the county of Columbiana.

The undersigned Master Commissioner of the Court to whom was refered

the account of the Executors of the last will and testament of John

Rupart late of said county, deceased Reports that in pursuance of the

Rule of the Court he has examined said account and finds that the amount

received from the sale of personal estate is - - - - - - - - - - - $144.21

It being the whole amount charged against said accountants



I do find by proper vouchers exhibited that said accountants have paid

debts owing by said estate to the amount of - - - - - - - - - - - - $6.79



Costs of administration inclusive of the sum to be allowed by Court to

Executors for their services is - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - $17.30 ½

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Total Credits - - - - - - - - - - 24.09 ½





Third page of Final Account dated August 5th 1832.Estate of John Rupart. Packet 1439. Family History Library microfilm 2032592.

Leaving in the hands of said executors for distribution - - - - - $120.11 ½



Out of which the Executors compensation for their services and Master fee

to be allowed by Court to be deducted.



All which is respectfully submitted

August 25th 1832 Fisher A. Blackman, Master Comm



Atty fee - - - - - - - - - - - - $2.00

Executor - - - - - - - - - - - - [?] .64

Gunks Routes: P-38 (5.10b)

(Photo: Past the low crux overhang and into the awkward corner of P-38 (5.10b).)


Gail and I recently got out for a little weekday fun in the Gunks.



We saw little reason to stray too far from the Uberfall. There were lots of people around, to be sure, but nothing approaching the weekend crowds.



The spring weather was delightful and my only big goal for the day was to hit at least one 5.10 from my list. After spending a few pleasant hours in the Frog's Head area we decided it was time. We headed over to P-38 (5.10b). Gail had followed it before but it was years ago. I had never tried it so it was to be an onsight attempt for me.



Sitting as it does within spitting distance of the outhouse known as the "Über Pooper," P-38 is for most climbers a familiar sight. The slanting crack that defines the climb is obvious from the road below.



I wanted to do it because of that crack. I expected it would provide good gear. About the climbing, I guess I knew very little. I thought, not unreasonably, that I was in for a crack climb. But it turned out that there isn't any crack climbing on P-38, which is cool because I'm no good at that anyway!



I was hoping that maybe, just this once, I'd onsight one of these 5.10's. I have not had much luck with getting them clean. Over and over again I've had to work the cruxes a bit, or on some occasions I've even had to back off.



The first hard move on P-38 comes right off the deck, as you attempt to surmount a little overhang that is just over your head as you stand below the climb. There is pro here, and I actually placed two pieces as I stepped up and down, several times, working out the opening move. Eventually, after several reconnaissance missions, checking the gear and making plans, I executed my little sequence and made it up over the little roof.



Success! Maybe I was on my way to victory.



I was surprised by the next few moves. I thought the climb would be sustained and awkward. And it is sort of awkward, but after the opening moves it is really pretty easy up to the crux. There are jugs outside the crack and you can actually wedge your leg into the crack as you move up, providing opportunities to place gear, rest and shake out.



Soon enough I arrived at the crux sequence. You'll know it when you arrive there. There is a delicate step left to a little dish for your toe, and then a couple of thin moves up to a tantalizing ledge, so close but yet so far.



I placed what I thought was a bomber purple Camalot and then made the step left. As I tried to move up I thought about placing more gear but the climbing was pumpy and insecure. I just wanted to move-- the rest stance was in sight-- and so I did, without dealing with any more placements. I moved up once, feeling like I was barely in balance, just holding on. I thought that if I could make one additional move, a high-step to a polished pebble, I would be through the crux.



I was just a move away, but as I tried to get my toe on the pebble I lost the grip and took a fall. It happened suddenly and caught me a little bit off guard. I meant to yell "falling!" But instead in the moment said "take!"



Of course it happened so fast that Gail couldn't take; she just caught me as I took what turned out to be a pretty good whipper. The Camalot held just fine and the fall was totally clean. It is steep there and the gear is a little to the right so there isn't much risk of the rope catching your leg. It is about the best fall you could hope for.



Still I was a little taken aback by how far I fell and as I went back up, onsight already blown, I decided to place more gear before trying the crux again. I ended up getting a higher cam from the rest stance and then, after moving left again, I placed a great red Alien from the delicate position after you step up into the crux sequence. I ended up hanging a couple of times as I placed the additional gear and then, as I got set to try the final crux move again, I took a couple more falls as I rushed it trying to get back to the crux move and then failed at the crux when I tried to repeat the same sequence I used the first time.



Hanging there, I told myself to focus. I had come closer to success on my first try than I had on my subsequent fumbling efforts. I needed to execute my beta to get to the final move, and then try something new. I visualized exactly what I planned to do and then tried to be precise and patient.



And this time it went like butter. I danced up to the final move. Then I switched feet and stepped through up to the polished pebble, and it flowed. It actually felt easy, and I found myself at the rest stance, wishing I'd thought to try the move this way the first time. I came so close to the onsight! One little pebble away from victory.



I seem to find myself saying this every time, but now that I've worked it out I think I can go back and get the redpoint. I remember the whole sequence and I think so long as I'm careful I can climb it without a problem. The only question is whether I will be able to do it while placing the extra gear mid-crux. This gear isn't strictly necessary but I'd like to have it. If I decide to place it the crux will be a little bit harder.



Once the crux is over, P-38 eases off considerably. There is an easy traverse left and then a few 5.8 moves over a bulge to the finish. Some describe this section of the pitch as run out, but I did not find it to be so. I placed a couple of Tricams along the traverse and a nut in a flake right below the sloper holds that take you over the final bulge.



Once up on the finishing ledge, I was surprised to find the traditional belay tree long gone. There is no tree, just a rotting stump, which is obviously not a suitable anchor. I arranged a belay with gear placed between the huge boulders on the ledge, but you could also go to the top and belay from a living tree. The walk-off down the Uberfall is very close if you choose to go all the way to the top. If you belay on the ledge as I did you can use the Radcliffe descent which is right there behind the climb. This was my first time down Radcliffe and it is a little more exposed at a couple of spots than the Uberfall descent.



P-38 is a really good little climb. I will go back to send it. It has two stiff cruxes, one at the opening move and then a harder, more technical crux above. It has some unusual moves for the Gunks, good gear, and it could hardly be more accessible. I am bummed out that I didn't figure it out the first time, but I shall return!

Silver Cream Pitcher

The Straw Brothers

Alex:









Just say for example you were from Colorado and youhad dual U.S. - Australian Citizenship.

Then imagine you were fanatical about snow boarding and climbing.

And your older brother was too.

Take into account that Colorado has aguably some of the best powder in the world and is not such a shabby place for climbing either.



Then lets just say you chose to live most of your life in Brisbane.

Either there's a girl I don't know about, or he's running from the law.

Eric: As above, but 3 years older.


Good choice boys?


Eric:













..The Straw Brothers taketo "Black Leather Dungarees" at Coolumand find out all about the hype, the pump, and the pure excitment of one of the Cave's best and highest.


















..










Alex on "the slab" section of the route. Not a slab. Just not as crazy steep.







Whether youclaim to be a boulderer or a boarder, you are going to need a beanie.

Otherwise who's going to believe you?






Climbers, don't just dream about being as cool as these guys, do what I do- copy their look.

Get the "Climber Beanie", hand made from un-dyedAlpaca and Merino wool, atRed Phoenix Emporium




Or at least click on the link to seethe boys represent Red Phoenix,the uber cool, cult style outfitters to the very chic.










Good choice boys.

jj






In Appreciation of John Forester

Browsing theDFW Point to Point blog the other day, I learned about the recent release of the 7th edition of John Forester's Effective Cycling - that classic tome espousing the vehicular cycling philosophy. Thinking about this book, I feel great affection toward my own tattered blue copy.



When it comes to bicycle infrastructure, Metro Boston has changed considerably since I first began riding here. In Spring the majority of my routes involved traveling along streets with no infrastructure what so ever. When I discovered Vehicular Cycling, I thus interpreted it not as something that was a matter of agreeing or disagreeing with, but as a necessary tool for the realities of my environment. John Forester believes that bicyclists should behave like vehicles, sharing roads with motorised traffic. Effective Cycling gives precise and detailed instructions on how to do that.



As an absolute beginner, I purchased an older edition of the book and found it immensely helpful. It educated me about traffic maneuvers from the bottom up: Starting with very basic concepts that I was able to implement right away, then getting into more nuanced ideas that became useful once I gained a bit of experience and courage. And just as importantly, Effective Cycling got me into an "I can do this. I have a right to do this." frame of mind. It seems almost hard to believe now, but at the time I was often the only bicyclist out on the roads and there were no social or infrastructural cues to indicate that it was okay to ride a bike on the street. No sharrows, no "share the road" signs, no other people on bikes. Drivers would routinely shout "You're not supposed to be here!" at me, incredulous at my very presence. Effective Cycling gave me the confidence and the skills to operate in that kind of environment, and to do it safely.



Today there are bike lanes, sharrows and signage along most of my routes through the city. There are also many other cyclists out on the roads. The combined effect of this has been an increased awareness and acceptance of bicycling. The infrastructure here is far from perfect. The drivers are still far from nice. But nonetheless things are much better than they were three years ago. There is less hostility, less stress. It no longer seems abnormal to ride in the city, and cycling feels more accessible to beginners.



Extreme proponents of the Vehicular Cycling philosophy are against bicycling infrastructure of any kind, believing that separated paths and bike lanes are not in the best interest of cyclists. Often they will actively fight against infrastructure, making it a point to attend town meetings and speak out against it. Conversely, those who favour infrastructure tend to position themselves against Vehicular Cycling, viewing it is a discredited philosophy and a lost cause. But from where I stand, this battle manufactures an unnecessary and ultimately damaging dichotomy.



While I have experienced the benefits of cycling infrastructure firsthand, I nonetheless find the principles of Vehicular Cycling indispensable in environments where said infrastructure is unavailable or imperfect - or when I choose to operate a bicycle on the open road for other reasons. I do not agree with John Forester on every point, but I value much of his advice on riding in traffic. I would encourage cyclists of all persuasions to keep an open mind and give Effective Cycling a read.

Tear Up A Pillow!!!!!

Wiley, our youngest cat of 1 year, decided the other day that he would tear up one of the pillows I keep on the couch. I have had dogs do this a lot but this is the first cat. Of course it could have been because there was a small tear in it. But who knows. Maybe it is because Wiley is just a fun loving wild cat.

Two Fellows Home From Camp Taylor

Columbia City Post, Whitley County, Indiana
Saturday ~ December 29, 1917

Vic Phend and Earl Bordner are both home for short furloughs from Camp Zachary Taylor, Louisville, Ky. The former came Thursday evening. He is in the engineers and likes his work very much. He has grown heavier, weighing about one hundred and eighty pounds and he looks every inch a man now. Earl Bordner is in the medical detachment of the engineers and he, too, has benefited by his training. He is a half inch taller and is also heaver. He will be here until Tuesday, visiting with his father, R. J. Bordner, and others.

Grandpa (Rolland Victor Phend) enlisted in the Army on September 19, 1917 and went as a 'substitute' for someone else. He was 24 years old at the time and about six feet tall. He often commented that he thought he had gotten 'special' treatment because he was an enlistee rather than a draftee. He attained the rank of Sergeant and served in England and France as a member of the 309th Engineers. Though he never said anything about being in combat he was gassed while on a patrol and suffered for many years as a result. At one point the doctors said he wouldn't last six months. He fooled them all by living until the day before his 98th birthday! Mom says she remembers, when she was little, that he often slept sitting up in a chair because he couldn't breathe if he laid down. He received a very small disability pension. At one point when he was in his 80's, the government decided that he was no longer disabled and took away his meager pension. He contacted one of our senators (I don't know which one) and after some delay, his pension was restored.

Pedal and Coast

A friend of a friend flies gliders at the Ulster Gliding Centre down the road. I was encouraged to visit. "He used to race bikes. He restores old planes. The place is amazing, you'll love it."



Terrified of flying and armed with only the vaguest notion of what gliders actually are, I nonetheless head over there one evening. The phrase "restores old [fill in the blank]" proves to be excellent bait.In honor of the occasion, I ride a 1938 Tyrone Flyer, handmade in Northern Ireland.





Astride the 75-year old machine, I race down the winding coastal road, at length turning onto a narrow lane toward the Lough Foyle. I ride past pastures, chicken coups, a thatched cottage, and a field of parked caravans, until finally a meadow comes into view - spread out along the water's edge and littered with small aircraft. From a distance the scene resembles a vegetable patch.





By the hangar, Owen waves me through, bike and all. We exchange greetings and straight away his eyes are on the bike.





Owen used to race 100 mile time trials. He was good, right up there at the top. Then he stopped. But I can see the cycling has not left him. If he sees a bike, he can't not look at the bike. Then it's my turn to look at the planes.





A hangar is basically a garage for aircraft. This one is dome-shaped. The interior is well illuminated. There are little planes everywhere and I wander through them as if through a forest, stepping over tails and wings as if they were felled tree branches. Some planes are colourful and others are white, some fairly new and others quite old. Owen restores the old ones.






I ask about the materials, the paint, the provenance. Most of the machines are British or German, WWII era. We talk about plastics, and how they've changed over the years (a topic I'm familiar with from my fountain pen collecting days). Then he shows me the cloth used for wings - stretched so tautly and painted over so smoothly, I would never have guessed it was cloth.






The planes are so light and small, they seem toy-like. "I could take you up in one of these if you like?" I shake my head in horror, which I quickly try to disguise as a polite "I wouldn't want to impose."






So what exactly is a glider? Put simply, it is a small airplane without an engine. A non-motorised plane. Visually, gliders can be distinguished by their lack of propellers(although there are alsomotorised gliders, which do have propellers)and their unusually long wings.






Because a glider does not have an engine, it cannot take off under its own power and relies on a tow-plane to bring it up to the desired height, then release it.






Once airborne, the glider uses streams of rising air (thermals) to prolong the flight, as the pilot steers it. In this manner, the glider can stay up in the air for hours and even travel cross-country. "Cross country without an engine?" I said, growing interested in the mechanics of the thing.






Long story short, I ended up in the glider. Owen - as most of the pilots there - has such a steady, reassuring manner about him, that the more we chatted the more it began to seem like a good idea - just a normal way to spend an afternoon. "There's no engine, so nothing can go wrong, you see. It's a bit like cycling really. Take your camera!" Yes, it would be like cycling.




I was feeling pretty good as I approached the glider, until another pilot - Gary - handed me a parachute. "Here, put this on." I must have turned white and begun to inch my way backward (OMG why do I need a parachute??), because Gary sort of held me in place and swiftly began to put the parachute on for me, cheerfully instructing me on its usage while gently nudging me into the glider. "There. It's like getting into the bathtub."




In fact, the thing is sort of canoe-shaped. The pilot/instructor sits behind the student/ passenger. There are duplicate controls. There is very little room, and once the top is down, you feel sealed off from the rest of the world. Once I was in it, my attitude was - If you're gonna do it, do it. Otherwise don't do it. No point being scared now.






As Owen began to rattle off a series of mysterious control-check messages into the radio, Gary grabbed the rope attached to the glider's nose and connected it to the tow-plane.






This is what it looks like to be towed along the grass runway. We are taking off toward Lough Foyle.





Here is the rope.






The take-off is quick and painless. Before I know it, we are being towed through the air.






View from the ground.





Finally, the rope is released. The tow-plane returns to the ground and the glider - well, it glides. I am in a small plane. Everything is completely silent. We are floating, coasting really. I am feeling fine. Calm, downright serene.





The landscape spreads out beneath. Familiar places from an unfamiliar vantage point. In that sense, it really is a bit like cycling. In an abstract sort of way.





We fly along the coast, then turn inland and head to Binevenagh Mountain. Owen explains how to work the controls to make the plane bank, turning it around. It makes sense and I give it a try. The plane turns. And there is Binevenagh, half submerged in shadow from a low cloud, half illuminated by intense sunshine. It looks quite tame from here, flattened out against the landscape. My heroic climbs and descents hardly seem like an accomplishment now.



On the very top of Binevenagh is a mysterious lake. It is up a rough gravel road and I've only made it up there once so far. The lake is eerie, prone to mists and unusual growths around its edges. When you're standing next to it, it looks as if it is about to pour off of the edge of the mountain.





But what you don't see from the ground, is that the lake is distinctly heart-shaped. It is also nowhere near the edge of the mountain when viewed from an aerial perspective.





My camera is with me in the glider. There is a small window that slides open to stick the lens through. I've no experience composing aerial photos, and my 50mm lens is all wrong for the task. Even as I take them, I know that my pictures will look generic, uninteresting. But they are mine and I take them with the same genuine enthusiasm as anyone would.





The sun fades gently in the silence.Over Magilligan Point, we see another glider in the distance and wave to them.Everything is beautiful. "You all right?" Owen asks. Yes! This is wonderful. "Want to try a Chandelle?" he says. "Oh. What's that?" It's a maneuver. A bit of fun. Not quite aerobatics, but almost. "All right!"



The glider does something that is part spin, part freefall and part loop. I see clouds. I am not sure which way is up. I feel pressure in my temples and my vision starts to go dark. A split second later, I am drenched in a cold sweat and hit with a wave of nausea. I sit very still and take deep breaths. "How was that?" Owen asks from the back seat."Mmm hhmm hhmm!" I reply, mouth closed, worried I will puke all over the nice glider if I try to form sentences. Point taken. No more aerobatics. As the sun sets, we descend.






On the ground, I am soaking wet - hair, clothes, everything. Weird, the physical reactions we have. I don't remember feeling scared, but my body must have decided otherwise. We have a laugh about it. Then we steer the plane down the grass runway toward its next tow.






Is gliding anything like cycling? Hmm, I don't know. Maybe the feeling of landing is similar to that of a long descent. The view can be similar too. But on a bicycle everything feels open, whereas in a glider you are closed in, closed off - a bit claustrophobic for me. Not that I don't want to do it again. But perhaps no Chandelles just yet. It could be a useful skill, knowing how to fly light aircraft.






Some day. But for now I get back on the Tyrone Flyer. I pedal uphill, coast downhill. That is more my style of gliding.