Pair of Wooden Howling Coyotes

Badlands :: An Incredible Landscape

Wednesday, August 24th - - Badlands National Park is comprised of the North and South Units consisting of 244,000 acres. The South Unit was added in 1976 and is managed by the Oglala Lakota Nation. It contains many sites sacred to the Oglala Lakota people as well as a great quantity of unexploded ordnance – the area was used as an aerial bombing range during the Second World War. The South Unit is largely undeveloped with few roads or trails; it is primarily a protected natural area.



The North Unit, sandwiched between Highway 44 and Interstate 90, is the one that the vast majority of visitors see, myself included. The main route through this section is the Loop Road.





I entered the Park on the northwest end, from Wall on route 240. After exploring the Sage Creek area (where I was engulfed by a herd of bison) I returned to the Loop Road and continued eastward.





The Pinnacles Overlook area.













The Ancient Hunters Overlook. This is where evidence has been found that the Ancient Ones stampeded herds of bison over the edge of the cliff and butchered the fallen animals.





Yellow Mounds Overlook.

The yellow and red layers in the formations are fossilized soils, called paleosols. Fossil root traces, burrows, and animal bones found within the soils provide scientists with evidence of environmental and climatic changes that occurred in the badlands over time.







Driving through the Conata Basin.



The Conata Basin. See the car on the road in the lower left corner?



Homestead Overlook.

According to a sign posted at the overlook:

Homesteaders poured into the Badlands when the Milwaukee Railroad completed track through the White River Valley in 1907. Most of the homesteads turned out to be “Starvation Claims” and were abandoned or sold. Starved-out homesteaders moved on to build towns and cities, or to seek another homestead in a land less harsh. Today the ranches of this valley are measured in thousands of acres, and heavy equipment does most of the work once done by callused hands. Even so, unpredictable drought and economic crisis test ranchers today as severely as they tested homesteaders yesterday.

Fossil Trail.



Exiting the park through Cedar Pass.

Aric and John in the Tournament

Aric played with John. We just met John last night. Aric left before John got to the courts last night. Which means today was the first they'd ever played together.

They did very well together.

I think they had incredible teamwork together. Especially since it was their first time playing together.

The ended up in the championship game and they won their bracket! Woohoo! WTG, Aric!

Wolf Pups

Shoe Lake Road - Cook County, MN. I saw these cute little fellows while driving home from the Gunflint Trail yesterday. Came around a corner on Shoe Lake Road and there they were, sitting just a few feet off the road. I watched them for a couple of minutes before they wandered back off into the woods.

Rise and Ride

I both am and am not a morning person. I do like to wake up early. But mornings are a still, quiet time, and while my mind is active (I can get a full day's work done before 9am), my body is not. So I sit and work, and drink endless coffee, until my body starts to feel more energetic and I am ready to face the world. Riding a bike before that point is not something I feel compelled to do. And yet, lately I've been doing it. Group rides tend to meet in the mornings, and friends with 9-5 jobs can only ride before work. My desire to join them has lured me onto the bike at some ungodly hours.




There is a lot to be said for early morning cycling. It's quiet.There is hardly any traffic.And it's beautiful - in a magical and almost eerie way that makes you feel special to be there. The world is allowing you to see it in its softest, least aggressive state. Once I am out there pedaling, I am glad to be doing it. But getting myself out of the house in the early morning can be difficult.






What I found helps, is to force myself to be organised and todevelop a routine. I check the weather and lay out everything I will need for the ride the night before - everything, from socks to jersey and chamois cream, in one accessible pile. This way I can shower and immediately get dressed without thinking. I fill my water bottle at the same time as I fill the kettle to make coffee in the morning. I put my phone, keys, and money in my jersey pockets as soon as I put it on, so that I don't have to scramble and search for them at the last second when I can potentially forget something. Then I eat breakfast, top up the air in my tires, and go. Things that I put on right before leaving - such as gloves and sunglasses - I keep inside my helmet by the door.


If meeting up with another person or a group in cold weather, I've learned to make sure the meeting point has the option of seeking shelter. Somebody's house, a cafe, a building with a lobby, or at least a gas station that will let you wait inside with your bike. This way, if someone is late you do not have to wait in the freezing cold - it is extremely difficult to stand still in the cold for long, particularly first thing in the morning.



Now that it's spring and the days are longer, more rides will be scheduled for the afternoons. But I am still glad to have developed a morning routine, and it will especially come in handy once it gets really hot out. What time of the day do you usually ride?

A Trip Full to See Friends

This week was supposed to be our vacation week. We were going to go down to Ft Myers beach to meet up with some friends and to spend some beach time there as a family. Then I got a job offer to spend the summer at the beach, and I needed our vacation week to work out some of my two week notice. So we took my two days off to go down instead. We landed at Peace River and drove down to Sanibel Island for the day.



At Sanibel, I was able to see my dear friend Barb and her husband John. I haven't been able to visit with Barb in person for a few years now and it was so wonderful to catch up in a face to face way. She is one of the neatest people I know and someone who has had profound impact on my life, so the visit was uplifting and nourishing to my soul. We grabbed a bite to eat at a restaurant there and the food was very good, so my body was nourished well too. I would have liked more time together, but the time we did have was very precious to me.

Since we were at Peace River, we also had a too short visit with some very special friends. As soon as we returned from Sanibel Island, Rich and Donna had a cookout for us. I've shared here before how Donna is one of the main reasons I stuck with pickleball. Beyond pickleball, I just enjoy her as a person. She is one of those rare people that is sweet and interesting all rolled up in one.



We had the treat of sharing the cookout with some newer pickleball friends, Russ and Jody. They went to Capone's with us the night we visited there, so we had already shared that fun night together. We enjoyed getting to know them better tonight too. We decided to head out tonight instead of waiting until the morning, so we didn't get to play pickleball together. We loved what time we did have together though.

Living the life in Florida!

Wild Flower

I see these little wild flowers frequently out Don't know their official names.

Allensworth State Historical Park

After leaving Death Valley on March 27th I had decided to continue west to the coast of California, still seeking warmer weather. Along the way, I saw a sign for the Colonel Allensworth State Historical Park, which is located off of Interstate 5 northwest of Bakersfield, California. I went there not knowing what it was, only hoping that it had a campground.

The entrance welcomed me and I knew that I was in a very special place. Thankfully, it also had a campground!

According to a brochure that I picked up, the town of Allensworth was established in August 1908 by Colonel Allen Allensworth and four other settlers. It was the first settlement in California founded, financed and governed by African Americans. Their dream was to develop a thriving community based on the belief in programs that allowed blacks to help themselves create better lives. By 1910 Allensworth’s success was the focus of many national newspaper articles praising the town and its inhabitants.

Born into slavery and educated illegally, Allensworth ran off and joined the Army during the Civil War. He became one of the Army's first Black chaplains and at his retirement in 1906, he was the highest ranking African American commissioned officer in the United States military.

The townsite was purchased in 1974 by the California State Parks. Some of the homes and buildings have been restored while others are reconstructions.

The Stockett House and outbuildings.

The First Baptist Church.

Each building has a sign which provides a brief history.

The prefabricated house of Colonel Allensworth, delivered by railroad and assembled in 1911.

Additional photographs can be found on this page of the Allensworth Historical Park website. A biography of Colonel Allensworth can be found on Wikipedia.

Feel Like Crying

A road ride on a cold day. Wind in my face. Gasping for air.




Descending as the sun begins to set, there is nothing but speed, forest, and a faint golden glow on my face. This golden glow loves me, and it loves all the other riders on the road.



A feeling comes over me and it's the feeling of knowing infinity. At this moment, I could fade into the forest or ride off into the sun. My physical sense of self and bike grows weak. We are too light to be real; we dissipate.




I am high on endorphins. I know this.This is not a special moment. This is not meaningful. I must get ahold of myself.




But my chest is full.And the tears come.






It doesn't feel like crying. More like an emotional mix up. I laugh at myself as the chill hits my wet face. I need to cut this out. It's not that serious. It's not that beautiful. I am not pedaling that hard.






Could it be fear, rather than the pain of physical effort that I am converting into these intense waves of emotion? Am I too proud to experience fear, so I sublimate it into ...what exactly?




No no no. Thinking won't help here. Just go with it. Let it happen. People will understand. Or they will think the tears are from the wind.




This is what roadcycling does to me. No, I don't get it either.

Tombstone Tuesday :: Malcomson Family

The topic for the premier edition of the Graveyard Rabbits Carnival is "exceptional finds - share with us those rare and unique cemeteries, gravestones, monuments, memorials, inscriptions, etc."

This post is going to do "double duty" by being my "Tombstone Tuesday" post this week as well as my contribution to the Graveyard Rabbits Carnival.

McKay Cemetery in Craig Township, Switzerland County, Indiana is located on Patton Hollow Road approximately one mile North of State Road 56. It is the resting ground for several of my Wiseman and Bray ancestors. While taking pictures there last November, I also took some pictures of some of the more "interesting" stones. As far as I know, the Malcomson family is no relation to me. The monument stands about six feet high and I think it is made of poured concrete. As always, click on the images for a larger version.

Engraving on the South side of the monument:
JOHN S. / DEC. 29, 1842-APR. 24, 1914
EMILY J. HIS WIFE / MAY 10, 1842-JUNE 11, 1919

Engraving on the North side of monument:
(across the top of the scroll) MARY E.
DAUGHTER OF / J.S. & E.J. MALCOMSON /MAR. 28, 1878-SEPT. 3, 1897
DELLA B. SMITH / JAN. 3, 1868-JULY 9, 1902

Seven year old John Malcomson was found in the 1850 census in the household of William and Jennet Malcomson in Craig Township, Switzerland County, Indiana. In 1860 he was 17 years old and listed in the household of Jennet Malcomson. John was 28 years old in 1870 , the head of his household, with real estate valued at $2400 and a personal estate of $2600. Also listed with him in Craig Township was 28 year old Emily, 4 year old Pearly and 2 year old Della.

John and Emily Malcomson were also living in Craig Township in 1880, 1900, and 1910. John's occupation was listed as farmer, and, their children, according to these census records, were Pearlie, Della, William J., Justi T., Mary, Frank B., and Edna G.

The William Hale Brubaker Family

William Hale Brubaker, born February 22, 1905, was the fourth and last child of Charles Romain and Maude Catherine Wise Brubaker. The family was living in Troy Township, Whitley County at the time. In less than two years the family would move to Traverse City, Michigan where they would live for about three years. In December 1910, when Charles' younger brother Maurice Hale Brubaker, passed away the family returned to Whitley County. They lived at the Goose Lake Farm until about 1918 when they moved into Columbia City.

Bill, as he was more commonly known, married Fern Flossie Rohn on January 5, 1924 in Hillsdale, Michigan. He was 18 years old and she was 16. They moved to Elkhart, Indiana where his uncle Maurice Wise was living. I'm not sure when Bill bought his first restaurant. His obituary stated that he was the owner and operator of Tyler Lunch restaurant from 1927 to 1965 but the 1930 census gives his occupation as a cook in the restaurant industry. That restaurant and the second one he owned, called "Bill's Restaurant" which he owned from 1966 to 1974, were both open only for breakfast and lunch; they closed for the day at 2 p.m. and were opened at 5 a.m. every morning.

Bill and Fern were the parents of three children; Gene, Mary Lee and Glea. Fern passed away on June 14, 1973. The following year Bill sold the restaurant and moved to Orlando, Florida. He died on April 21, 1979 at the home of his daughter in Orlando.

Bill and his family probably came to North Webster to visit my grandmother, there are several pictures of them at her house, but I don't know if we were ever there when they visited, except for one time. I don't remember it but a picture shows that I was there, along with all my cousins. Give me a break, please, it was 1965 and I was a teenager!

Fast forward to July of .. when I received an email from a friend that worked at the Whitley County Historical Museum. She had been contacted by someone wanting information on the Brubaker family and she was aware that I had Brubaker's in my family. Long story, short, I made contact and it was the wife of one of Bill's grandson, we'll call them Dick and Jane. Jane was hoping to gather enough information on the Brubaker family to present to Dick as a gift for his birthday that fall. Of course, I sent her the information and we made arrangements to meet.

In October .., Dick and Jane came to visit me and they met my mother and her sisters and brother. Now, when you get my Mother and her siblings all together, following conversations can be difficult, and this occasion was no different. There were ten people in the room but five conversations going on at the same time! Aunt Phyllis had brought some pictures of Bill's family to share with them, many which they had never seen. I'm sure that by the time Dick and Jane left they were overwhelmed by it all. I've kept in contact with them via email since then and someday hope to meet with them again.

William Hale Brubaker with his son Gene who was only six days old, according to the writing on the edge of the picture. If so, it would be August 24, 1925. The little girl is Phyllis Phend.

Four Generations - sort of - The baby, Gene Brubaker, is being held by his great grandfather William P. Wise. Then it's William's daughter, Maude Wise Brubaker and her son William Hale Brubaker. Not dated, probably 1925-26.

William Brubaker Family. Fern, Gene, Bill, Glea, and Mary Lee. Not dated, probably 1937-38.

Sagging Saddles?

It seems that I complain a lot about saddles, finding fault with most of the ones I try if not immediately then certainly within a year's time. This one won't break in, that one hurts my crotch. This one is too narrow, that one is too wide. This one is too soft, that one is too hard... So what now?



Okay, I've had this Brooks B72 for about a year. No complaints about the shape, size or breaking in period - it felt wonderful from the start on a semi-upright bike. I have owned several other B72 models as well - both modern and vintage - and they've all been good. This was the one saddle of all my saddles I thought was pretty darn perfect. Then a couple of months ago I started to notice that the outer edge was pressing into my derriere. At first it was subtle, but the feeling kept getting worse - until one day I looked at the saddle, and the leather was visibly sagging in the center, with the outer edge (where the rivets are) forming a sharp ridge. Regrettably I neglected to take a picture of this before we messed with the tension, but I really ought to have emailed it to Brooks. It is unexpected that a saddle should sag that much under a 125lb rider in less than a year's time. It had never gotten caught in the rain, I am not a proofide zealot, and I had ridden maybe 600 miles on it in the course of 8 months (it is installed on a city bike) when the problem began to present itself.



Though some recommend not to mess with the tension on a Brooks we went ahead and did, and the saddle felt great again... for a couple of weeks. But now, slowly but surely, I am starting to feel the rivets pressing into my behind once more as the leather continues to sag ever so gradually. Darn.



Having spoken to a few long-timeBrooksowners and retailers, I do not think that this is an issue with the B72 model specifically, but rather a general issue with quality control and the natural variation in leather thickness. A couple of retailers have told me that some Brooks saddles will sag in this manner and there does not appear to be a pattern to which models are susceptible to it. Well, that's not very reassuring. I am especially disappointed since this particular saddle was my overall favourite before the sagging problem started. I guess perfection is a myth and it is best to keep that in mind to avoid disappointment. I am curious whether others have experienced the "sudden sag" syndrome on any of their leather saddles, and if so which makes and models. Is there a cure?

Sun in Smoke

I tried several different shutter speeds and setting trying to get a shot of the sun with all the smoke in front of it to come out the firey red that it looked like to me, but it just wouldn't come out.

Stop, Look Around...

All the walking I've been doing lately on account of the weather has made me pay even closer attention to my surroundings than I do while cycling. Everything looks different in the snow - elegant and magical. The thin patch of woods near my house has turned into a majestic white forest worthy of a 19th century Scandinavian painting. It's as if the sky was squeezed straight out of a tube of cerulean blue and the austere vertical strokes of the trees were applied with a pallet knife. It's not my style, but I am certain this scene has been painted many times. It's archetypal.



Upon emerging from the pristine wonderland, I came face to face with this. Literally: It was located at face level, and in my willingness to submerge myself so fully in my daydream, I nearly walked into it.



The city is using excavators to facilitate snow removal, as the plows alone are not enough. The effect is interesting, making the neighbourhood look like an igloo construction zone. In order to clear the center of the roads, the excavator dumps more and more snow to the sides - creating monstrous, densely packed snowbanks that line the streets like the walls of some arctic city-state.



Walking on the sidewalk is a surreal experience. You are essentially in a tunnel - with buildings on one side, igloo wall on the other. Along some stretches, the snowbanks are taller than the average human height, so as a pedestrian I can only see the sidewalk in front of me and not the road to the side of me.



Those "Do Not Enter" and "Except Bicycles" signs are for a one-way side street that has a bike lane going in the direction against traffic. For most of last winter the lane looked like this. How cute that I complained about it then: This year it's been swallowed up by the snow banks entirely.



It is not uncommon to encounter bicycles "buried alive." There were actually three separate bicycles inside this snowbank.



Less common is the sight of a bicycle being ridden - but it happens, especially on the heavily salted main roads. Note how the yellow crosswalk sign, its reflection in the puddle, and the golden light of the setting sun play off the colours in the cyclist's knitted hat - all of it especially noticeable against the white, snowy backdrop. Somehow, everything seems to be reminding me of a painting these days. Certainly this person and his hat deserve to be painted.



It's been over a month and a half now without the car. We signed up for zipcar through the Co-Habitant's work, but have not used it yet. And ironically, the blizzards are making it easier to do without: With the roads as bad as they are, we wouldn't have been traveling to any photoshoots up North anyway, and so we don't feel as if not having our car is keeping us from accomplishing anything. We'll get the car fixed as it gets closer to Spring. But for now, it's been remarkably easy to just forget about that thing and for us both to get around entirely on foot and bike. And with so many snow days, I am rediscovering walking - which I appreciate for making me stop, look around, and see my neighborhood in a new light.