The Tights

I went for a short ride tonight in the dark. I could barely see any stars, as it was a bit misty. It's strange how even when completely dark, the edges of the sky are quite light. Riding along Koksilah road I could see the silhouette of Mount Tzouhalem. My back started to ache again, about 40 minutes in, otherwise I would have ridden around the lake too. I think Jake is too big for me. I've had it 10 months and haven't been able to get rid of the back ache, and it's really bothering me. I could ride so much further/faster without it. If Jake is too big, there are several ways of fixing that. Get a shorter stem, a smaller frame, or a new bike. The current stem is 85mm, which is already pretty short for a road bike. I don't think getting a shorter one would work because it would wierd-up the handelling, and I don't think I could get one short enough to fix it altogether. Getting a smaller frame isn't really worth it. The cheapest frame I could get would cost over $300, and since Jake has crap parts anyway (and the drivetrain needs replacing and the handlebars are too big, and the rear wheel isb't likely to last much longer) it wouldn't be worth it. Which leaves "new bike", which I can't afford really. I think the important word in that sentance is "really". I could have said "which I can't afford", but I've noticed I stuck the "really" on the end. Hmm.

It was a bit nippy, so thought it best to get my tights out.
There will be no photo with this post.


Distance: 23.4 km
Time: 57 mins

Introducing Fire Mountain

Fire Mountain was Julia's first mountain bike, that Julia and Brian have given me to ride to work and back. I took Coppertone (my mountain bike) to work and locked it up outside the other day, and someone stole the saddle and seatpost. Hilary got her Kona Dew stolen at Superstore the other day aswell. Brian built it up for me and delivered him last Sunday, but yesterday was the first time I've been at home in day light to take some photos. He's a Kona Fire Mountain Shock, which I assume means there was a rigid version. He's got a cromoly frame (hense the nail varnish covering the scratches) and a top of the line, fully adjustable RST suspension fork. My favourite feature (except for the front tire - see below), is the levitating saddle:

Fresh Air Experience

I love the grips!

Not the most comfortable saddle in jeans.

The front tire is the pieste resistance (excuse the French). The only way to explain it is to post a photo from the MS Tour:


(That's Dale from the bike shop in the middle)

Thanks Brian and Julia!

UPDATE:

Diver Lake Cyclocross Videos

Someone has uploaded some videos to Youtube.
EDIT: Thanks FigBug.
The first is the beginners' race. you can see Amy and I leaving the start line last:

Nightriders (like the ELO song)

It's been a long time since I've chatted with Chuck (well, let Chuck chat at me, anyway). He's recently moved, and I'm not sure where to, so I had to go and see him at work.
Chuck is the "night auditor" at the Travelodge (don't they know that should have two "l"s in the middle?) where I used to be a maid in the morning and dishwasher at night. I'd finish up the dishes, do all the other crap jobs left for the dishwasher, mop the floor, close up the kitchen, which would usually take me to 1-2 am. I'd grab my helmet and hoodie, and go to the front desk to sign out, where I would be intercepted by Chuck.
I've met some bike nuts, but Chuck really does top the list. Chuck doesn't want all the blingy bike bits though (he was amazed to hear that they made such things as double-wall rims). Chuck talks in three- and ten-speeds. He trawls the second hand shops for "classic" Schwinns and the likes. He owns 50 bikes in two storage lockers. He keeps scrap books of pictures of bikes. I take him CD's (he doesn't have a computer at home, but looks at them at work) of picture of interesting bikes I come across online. He's not really that into cycling though. He bikes to work (about a mile). Then again, he is in his late 50's.
Chuck doesn't start work until 11 pm, so I was dressed ready to ride at 9, but got intercepted by Ed and his apple and blackberry pie. He was excited for me to try his crust, so I went round to for half an hour.
I rode clockwise around the lake, then I went for a cruise around town before stopping in to see Chuck. Recently, while riding at night I've been shifting into the middle chainring at the beginning of the ride and staying there. Two reasons: 1 - Jake never has shifted properly. No matter how perfect I adjust the shifting, after an hour it will be off. If Dale at the bike shop does it (and I don't touch it), it will still be wrong after a ride or two. 2 - I don't pay enough attention to remember which chainring I'm in, and because I can't see the gear indicators or the chain itself, I never know where I am. Sometimes I'd grunt to the top of the hill thinking how out of shape I'm in, then try to shift up, only to realize I'm in the big ring. They should make the indicators on my brifters glow-in-the-dark. Although 9 gears (yes, Jake was cheap) is hardly the same as one, it kind of gives me an idea of what singlespeeding is all about. If I decide I'm staying in the middle chainring, I don't put any thought into shifting. There's no "do I need the granny for this hill, or will I be okay in the middle". I just kinda (I can't decide if I prefer "kinda" or "kind of" yet) get on with it. Hmm. Any comments, Brian?
Cruising around town at night is completely different to doing so in the daytime. I can't really explain how - you just have to try it. I wish Coffee on the Moon was open later though.
There are more nightriders around than we think though. Jack stopped in at the Travelodge while I was visiting. Jack washes dishes at Arbutus Ridge (I think), and then spends all night riding around visiting the night staff at various businesses. I often see (or don't see until long after I should have, due to their lack of visibility) other people on bikes. I once passed Adam on his BMX/jumper at 1 am on Sherman road. It's so quiet at night. If you're a cyclist and haven't ridden at night you really should give it a try.


Red - Distance: 18.2 km
Time: 46 min

Blue - Distance: 6.9 km
Time: 37 min

Winter is Here.

Yesterday was very wintery. It drizzled rain all day and "the sky was a hazy shade of winter". I put a hoodie on to ride to work.
I woke up today and I could hear the rain coming down. Last time this happened, I stepped outside in a rain jacket only to realize that Ed had left the sprinkler on overnight and it was actually sunny and warm. But it's raining, and the ride to work will require something more than a hoodie. Bring on the Gore-tex.
It's quite nice really. The rain and cold, damp air are quite refreshing, but I'm sure the novelty will soon wear off.
It's been quite a dry and warm summer. The occasional rain was probably my fault. I'd get tired of my fenders rattling and take them off. Then it would rain.

Time, time, time, see what's become of me
While I looked around
For my possibilities
I was so hard to please
But look around, leaves are brown
And the sky is a hazy shade of winter

Hear the salvation army band
Down by the riverside, its bound to be a better ride
Than what youve got planned
Carry your cup in your hand
And look around, leaves are brown
And the sky is a hazy shade of winter

Hang on to your hopes, my friend
Thats an easy thing to say, but if your hopes should pass away
Simply pretend
That you can build them again
Look around, the grass is high
The fields are ripe, its the springtime of my life

Ahhh, seasons change with the scenery
Weaving time in a tapestry
Wont you stop and remember me
At any convenient time
Funny how my memory slips while looking over manuscripts
Of unpublished rhyme
Drinking my vodka and lime

But look around, leaves are brown now
And the sky is a hazy shade of winter

Look around, leaves are brown
Theres a patch of snow on the ground...
- Paul Simon

The Ramble?

The Rhododendron Ramble is on Sunday. It's a 60 km off road ride outside Parksville.
Apparently the guys did it last year and the weather was horrible and everything broke. It took them 8 hours and they hated it.
I want to do it this year. Do you think I could?
I don't want to do it by myself. I asked Amy if she would come and she said yes, but she didn't seem too sure, and usually she's the one talking everyone else into things (see posting on the cyclocross race). I asked Hilary and she said "Nooooo!", but she said the same when I said she should come to the cyclocross race in Victoria. Brian laughed when he heard Amy and I were going to do it. I don't think Sean will be very supportive.
Can I do it? It would be no problem if it was a reasonably flat 60 km - but I'm sure it's not. Rob (or Rod?) at Arrowsmith Nanaimo said there would be less climbing than last year, but that doesn't really mean anything.
I won't do it on my own. Will someone come with me (and Amy)? Please...

Car free?

Oh, and by the way, it was World Car Free Day yesterday.
Did anyone ride/walk somewhere they would have driven?
Would anyone have done if they knew it was World Car Free Day?
Thought not.
It's like Bike to Work Week. About 10 people bike to work (that wouldn't normally), they talk to the local paper/TV station about how great it is and how they're doing their part for the environment, and go back to using their cars once the week's up (or it rains/is windy/gets cold during the week).
I don't see the point.
More to come on my thoughts about environmentalism.

Nanaimo and back

I rode to Nanaimo yesterday afternoon to give Dad his birthday present (his birthday was on the 18th). I left at about 2pm with his miniature remote control helicopter (in excessively large box) bungee corded to my pack.


The Ritchie Bros auction was today. There were a whole load of Madill diggers lined up along the road. It made me wonder what their gross profit would be for the day.
I always laugh at this sign, ("Your doggy won't be groggy!") and wonder if that really is all they do there:

I like the way this building has been painted. I always notice it: I stopped at Transfer Beach on the way, as I've always ridden straight past. There wasn't much to see really, and I couldn't find any actual "beach". There is a park for children and a large grassy bit with trees, but I didn't go exploring.


Coming out of Cassidy (?):I got to Nanaimo at about 4:15, and rode through town a bit, stopping in a couple of shops. I stopped in at Arrowsmith and found some cool shorts on the clearance rack that fit. Mum doesn't like them though (bonus!).
I stayed at Mum's and Dad's for some toad in the hole, and then went for a short walk with Mum and Luke at the Gabriola ferry terminal.
The ride home went by quickly (it always does in the dark). I needed my "big" light on before Cassidy. The air is very still at night, (there was quite a breeze on the way). I also got quite cold as it got dark. My feet were numb (from the cold, not the horrible shoes) coming into Ladysmith, so I stopped at the coffee shop there for a chai tea latte. As I stepped in the door a lady waiting for her coffee looked at me and said, "Is that a small or extra-small Jake?", looking at my bike leant against the window. Apparently, she rides a Norco and wanted a Jake but had standover problems.
So do I. I think Jake is too long as well, as I always end up with back ache. My back started to hurt after Ladysmith (on the way), and hurt all the way home. I also had cramps from the toad' most of the way home, which went away for a while after stopping for tea.
The lumber yard in Chemainus looked busy with fork lifts darting about all over the place, machines at work, "industrial" sounds a strong smell of sawdust in the calm air. It stood out as even the the places that were open looked asleep - people mopping floors, lone motorists at petrol stations, store owners killing time. I think the thing that makes the night feel so lonely isn't that there aren't many people around, but more that everyone is alone. There is no, or little, discussion or interaction. My interaction with the coffee shop owner was minimal. Everyone is tired and wants to go home. There aren't any queues - at traffic lights I found myself waiting for no one. Even drivers seem to all be lacking passengers. Radios play quietly in the backgroung trying to fill the void - mellow tunes. You don't here Linkin Park or Ozzy at 10 pm on a Monday, it's all John Mayer, Norah Jones and the Bee Gees. Comfort music? Lullabies?


I forgot to turn my GPS receiver on (but carried it in my back pocket all day), so will have to guess today:

Distance: 125 km
Time (moving): 6:15

Ed's Bromansia

... has finally bloomed this week. He's been telling me about the ones he's seen in Victoria for months now, and he we were both very excited to finally see pods emerging about two weeks ago. Ed's physiotherapist, Heidi, gave him some fruit and vegetables from her garden. He's given me some apple sauce, two courgettes, a few apples and a bunch of grapes.

He was busy all day making apple pies, and I was invited round to his for a slice. Flakiest (sp?) crust I've ever tasted Ed!

Okay, so maybe I got a bit carried away with the camera.

Ed goes back to work (at Canadian Tire) tomorrow. He's been off after tearing his ACL a few months ago. He had an operation about 2 months ago, and has almost fully recovered already.
Good luck at work tomorrow Ed. I hope it goes well!

Riding on borrowed wheels.

Hilary phoned me last night to invite me on a ride with Julia, Michele (Julia's friend from Vancouver, soon to be moving to Victoria), and a new lady who is just back to riding after an injury. We were to meet at the round-about where Somenos joins Sherman. I got there first, took my gloves of and sat on the rock waiting for the others. Apparently I left my gloves there.
Hilary arrives first on her new Kona Jake (same bike as mine, but they ran out of the blacks and had to do another run, making them red this time). Carmen showed up a few minutes later on her brand new Everti with deep dished rims (fancy!). Julia and Michele then showed up - Julia on her new Specialized Ruby Elite, and Michele on Julia's old Norco flat bar. We all arrived at the round-about on different roads.

Careful there Hilary - others might think you're pointing out a hazard:

Sorry, I must have moved the camera too early:
Hilary stopped for a few minutes to chat to a gentleman out jogging with no shorts on, and then she led off. We took a leisurely pace along Somenos and turned right onto the highway.
Earlier in the ride Carmen had been instructing us on pace lines, drafting and the like. She said we should be three feet apart. On the highway, Julia called out "I've got no sense of distance. How much is three feet?". I shouted "About one meter", and pushed on the pedals to close the gap between us to one meter. As I did so, Carmen braked (broke?), Michele braked, Julia braked (and made some exclamatory sounds as she narrowly missed running into Michele's wheel), and I braked, but I couldn't slow enough, and found my wheel on the left of Julia's. I made contact, but we both remained upright and carried on. There was the sound of something catching. I thought it was my fender, but it soon became apparent that my front wheel was very wobbly. When we stopped to take a closer look, one of my spokes had snapped and got wrapped around the hub, and another was bent (I've had this wheel 11 days - it's predecessor had an incident with a concrete barrier on the same stretch of highway). Hilary yanked it out I carried on with my front brake unhooked to see how I'd get on.
Apart from a dangerously out-of-true wheel, I seemed to be doing fine, until we approached Herd Road, and I had to come to a stop at the bottom of a hill. The rear brake just wasn't strong enough, and I had to do a "Fred Flintstone" (as Brian called it), and brake with the heel of my shoe. The little bit of tread I had left is now gone.
We rode along Herd to Lakes Road, and I decided to cut the ride short and head home. Julia and Michele followed, while Hilary and Carmen went either to Crofton or around the lake.
Back at Brian and Julia's, Brian lent me the wheel off Julia's old bike (thanks Brian and Julia!) and I got to meet Bill and Eric.

Both broken wheels. You can see the buckle in the one without the tire at about the one o'clock position:


Distance: 23 km
Time (total): 1:43
Time (moving): 1:06

Where Not to Work.

If most of the employees are young (say, under 25), chances are this isn't a great place to work.
Not only does this business trait mean that no one sticks around for more than eighteen months, but it also means that they don't pay well. Few 35 year olds would work for the wage that a sixteen year old earns.

At Sneakers, the oldest employee that the boss had ever had was (I think) about 26. Why? Because he paid $10.50 an hour, with a 50 cent raise every year (and never gave out pay stubs ... and Jeff and I recently figured out why - we were getting shorted a dollar).

The oldest "computer associate" at Staples is 25. I am the second oldest at 23. Three have left since I begun working there (a month now). One more will be leaving this week, and another some time next month. It's not even as though they are leaving for better jobs though. When I ask, "where are you going when you leave?" they say, "I'm not sure yet, but I've sent out a load of resumes." This could be put down to the "grass is always greener" syndrome that many suffer(?) from. I really don't know.

The Wednesday before last I got put in the tech room. When I started, I was told I'd be on the floor until the B.T.S. (Back To School - why abbreviate three monosyllabic words?) rush was over. I wasn't expecting it to happen, as people are always full of big ideas that never happen (and both Andrew and Tony(now in furniture) had been promised the tech job at one point). It couldn't have come soon enough. I hated being on the floor. I felt completely inadequate. Customers asking questions that I didn't know the answers to, getting customers sold on a product and then finding we were out of stock, not being able to find products scattered throughout the store by the night crew - I hated it. I've heard a lot of people say that the guys at Staples have no idea what they're talking about - I have said it many times - and they don't (maybe with the exception of James M., who is a know-it-all dork), but it's really not their fault. They receive no real training (except for how to talk people into buying ESPs (Extended Service Plans) and "attachments" (with a camera you have to try and sell a case, batteries, memory card, photo printer (with cable and paper as attachments), and all that crap). How can a teenager be expected to walk into a job and know everything about printers, speakers, label makers, GPS devices, toner cartridges, software, shredders, etc? All of the people I work with at Staples are very nice people. I get along really well with them all. But next time you shop at Staples, keep in mid that the guy helping you choose your printer has probably worked there for two months, works twice a week, and might not own a printer himself.
I think I'm getting off topic again.

Nobody likes tech work.
Jeff said he didn't like doing it. Rob (the ex-boss) hated it. Dean (who(m?) I took over from at Staples) couldn't wait to take a pay cut and go back on the floor. Ted said he did it for a while and didn't like it. James M. used to be the Staples tech, but is now the "technology consultant" and works on the floor. I knew people at university that had summer tech jobs and hated them. I don't think I've ever met a computer technician that liked his job.

Except me.
I like being a computer technician. I don't mind the bitchy, impatient customers that don't understand why virus romoval isn't covered under warrenty. I don't mind being held responsible for everyone else's screw ups. I don't mind that half my job is paperwork and packing and shipping boxes and the other half is made up of repetitive mindless "in-store setups". I don't mind when the guys promise customers that things will be done "by 5 this evening" at 4 pm when I'm completely backed up and have loads of other stuff that people had promised would be done at 5. I don't mind spending an hour on the phone to an old deaf man trying to explain that there isn't an "any" key.
Well, actually I do mind. But I don't really.
I was chatting to Hilary this evening and she asked me how the job was, and I said. "Crap." But it's not. Well, it is. But not really.
I like my job. A manager asked me to cover the floor for half an hour while Dean went on his break. I couldn't wait to get back in the tech room.
I don't feel inadequate. Though there are people a lot better at my job than I am that hate tech.

Jeff and I hated the lack of respect that Rob gave us. It wasn't that we minded the low pay so much as it was that he didn't respect us enough to pay us properly. Jeff was at a Sneakers chain LAN party once when he witnessed a conversation between Rob and some other store owners:
"How much do you pay your guys?"
Rob: "$10.50"
"Seriously?! How do you get away with that?"
No-one likes to be laughed at and taken advantage of. It's embarrassing.
(As a side note, I got fired before my raise so Rob could hire a kid straight out of high school that he was probably paying $8)

It does seem kind of stupid. Why deal with this hassle and responsibility (for $11/hr) when I could get a job as a Subway "sandwich artist" making $12 an hour? There are loads of jobs that pay well and carry few of the disadvantages of my job. Jeff is about to start his deputy sheriff job that pays $22/hr, and all he does is transport prisoners to and from court.
I was without a job for two months during the summer while trying to find a tech job. I got offered other stuff that paid the same.
Why didn't I take another job? I don't know, but I like this one, even though I shouldn't. Sorry Hilary - I think I lied.

I smell like a sheep

... and look like a traffic cone in this jersey. It's a bright orange Swobo wool jersey that's too big. But it's warm, but never too hot. But not at all wind-proof. That didn't matter, as there wasn't a breath of wind this evening. I didn't leave until about 9 pm and didn't go far. I rode south along the highway to the Cobble Hill Country Grocer, and turned left, rode through Cowichan Bay and along Tzouhalem Road. It wasn't very cold, but I'm glad I'd put arm warmers on. It seemed like a very easy ride. Jake feels a lot faster now that I've taken the front fender off. I guess it was dragging more than I thought. I felt strangely "glidey" today. I think when the fender was rattling and the brakes were juddering (and Jake was generally poorly after his encounter with the concrete barrier ... and he still needs attention, but more from neglect and wear and tear) I was more aware that I was riding a bike, whereas now he's a bit quieter I don't notice he's there so much.
Distance: 27.8 km
Time: 1:06

Saltspring Fall Fair

I have heard a few people talk about the Saturday market on Saltspring Island, so last Saturday I thought I'd give it a visit. I stopped in at the bike shop to chat with Brian about Sunday's cyclocross race, stopped in at Walmart to chat with Amy about the same, then headed towards Crofton. For some reason (daydreaming and no paying attention to where I was going), I took the long way: along Bell McKinnon, right onto Westholm to the little cafe where I turned right again, (almost back on myself) towards Crofton. When I got to Crofton, there were cars queued up to the giant fish statue thing. As I was thinking that the ferry wasn't going to be big enough to fit them all on, I saw a gentleman in a yellow reflective jacket walking along the queue talking to each of the drivers. Apparently he was telling them they wouldn't all fit on, and probably wouldn't for two more ferries. It seemed strange that they wouldn't put more ferries on on Saturdays if the market was that popular. I rode past the cars smiling, glad to be a cyclist and jump to the front. And a cheaper fare too. Why do people drive everywhere?
It still surprises me how cold it gets as soon as the ferry leaves the dock. It was a very sunny and hot day, but I got goose bumps on my arms during the ferry crossing. As the ferry was docking at Vesuvius Bay, I was chatting with the deck hand, who mentioned "fall fair". So I followed the route I'd loaded into my GPS receiver. I was literally half way across the island before the cars off the ferry caught up with me. Ferries work on a FIFO system. Cyclists and pedestrians are first on and first off, and motorists have to wait for them to completely clear the off ramp before they can leave the boat.
Approaching Ganges (say Gan-jeez), I saw a sign "Fall Fair this way". There were cars parked on both sides of the roads for about three kilometers. There was a lot going on at the fair, and it was packed with people. There were rides for the children, live music, livestock competitions (everything from emu to rabbits, swine, sheep, to sheep dog demonstrations and a horse show), a craft show, a small history museum, wool spinning demonstration, baking competition, quilting display, people with little stalls selling stuff and loads of food for sale (lamb burgers, smoothies, "shaved ice", hot dogs, chili, chinese, pot-stickers, doughnuts, fruitsicles, and the Women's Institute had made 600 pies in about 15 types). I spent most of the afternoon wandering around.
At about 3:30 I headed off into the town to see if I could find the market. Apparently they pack up at four, but I was expecting that. Ganges is a very nice "tourist-y" town. I rode around a bit and found a big you-are-here-style map, and thought I'd head north to Fuller Harbour (I think), but saw no mention of it on any sign posts. I took a few wrong turns, and the road ended turning into a gravel track, so I made my way back to the ferry.
I was chatting to a British gentleman on the ferry who was reading "The Song of Hiawatha" (Henry Wadsworth Longfellow), which brought "Incantations" (Mike Oldfield) to my mind, which features an extract at the end of part two. The Song of Hiawatha is set on the shore of a lake in the sun:

By the shores of Gitche Gumee,
By the shining Big-Sea-Water,
At the doorway of the wigwam,
In the early Summer morning,

Hiawatha stood and waited.
All the air was full of freshness,
All the earth was bright and joyous,
And before him, through the sunshine,

Westward toward the neighboring forest
Passed in golden swarms the Ahmo,
Passed the bees, the honey-makers,
Burning, singing in the sunshine.

Bright above him shone the heavens,
Level spread the lake before him;
From its bosom leaped the sturgeon,
Sparkling, flashing in the sunshine;

On its margin the great forest
Stood reflected in the water,
Every tree-top had its shadow,
Motionless beneath the water.

From the brow of Hiawatha
Gone was every trace of sorrow,
As the fog from off the water,
As the mist from off the meadow.

With a smile of joy and gladness,
With a look of exultation,
As of one who in a vision
Sees what is to be, but is not,

Stood and waited Hiawatha.
Toward the sun his hands were lifted,
Both the palms spread out toward it,
And between the parted fingers

Fell the sunshine on his features,
Flecked with light his naked shoulders,
As it falls and flecks an oak-tree
Through the rifted leaves and branches.

O'er the water floating, flying,
Something in the hazy distance,
Something in the mists of morning,
Loomed and lifted from the water,

Now seemed floating, now seemed flying,
Coming nearer, nearer, nearer.
Was it Shingebis the diver?
Or the pelican, the Shada?

Or the heron, the Shuh-shuh-gah?
Or the white goose, Waw-be-wana,
With the water dripping, flashing,
From its glossy neck and feathers?

It was neither goose nor diver,
Neither pelican nor heron,
O'er the water floating, flying,
Through the shining mist of morning,

But a birch canoe with paddles,
Rising, sinking on the water,
Dripping, flashing in the sunshine;
And within it came a people

Can it be the sun descending
O'er the level plain of water?
Or the Red Swan floating, flying,
Wounded by the magic arrow,

Staining all the waves with crimson,
With the crimson of its life-blood,
Filling all the air with splendor,
Filling all the air with plumage?

Yes; it is the sun descending,
Sinking down into the water;
All the sky is stained with purple,
All the water flushed with crimson!

No; it is the Red Swan floating,
Diving down beneath the water;
To the sky its wings are lifted,
With its blood the waves are reddened!

Over it the Star of Evening
Melts and trembles through the purple,
Hangs suspended in the twilight,
Walks in silence through the heavens.

It's about missionaries showing up in Indian villages I think. I'm not very good at this poetry stuff. I like the poem though.

Distance: 64.1 km
Time (moving only): 3:04

"Random Thoughts"

The first time I heard the term "blog" (contraction of "web log") was in my last year of high school in Mr. Dornn's computer science class. There were only two of us that wanted to take the course (and Jason wanted to drop it), so grades 11 and 12 were taught together. Well, Jason and I were given books to follow (think along the lines of "Visual Basic for Dummies"), and were given an exam at the end of the year. I didn't open my book once, and spent most of the semester writing a Monopoly game.
Mr. Dornn took a couple of days off for some reason and left us a "Mrs Taylor" assignment (the kind of assignment that required no work on his part). He gave us the web address of an article, and we were to write a two-page summary of the article. The article was two-and-a-half pages long. Anyway, the article was written about the emergence of blogs. There was a "linking sentance" that I remember: "And guess what? People actually read them." The first thing I thought was, "Guess what isn't a question, so it shouldn't have a question mark after it." Then I thought, "Yeah right! No one's going to read a stranger's journal." and I forgot all about them. Apparently they caught on. Apparently people do read them.
I do. I read blogs about cycling (mountain bikers, commuters, randonneurs, racers, utilitarian cyclists, product developers, and everything in between), origami, kiting, people visiting foreign countries, and anything that catches my eye. As the author is the master of his own blog, he can use it for what he chooses: ride reports, news updates, for sharing information and experiences, photos, or whatever. A blogger can write several times a day or once a year. Two lines or ten pages. Grammatically correct, structured, coherent, politically correct - it doesn't matter. No one has to read it. No one has paid to read it.
(Does it matter if anyone reads it? - exploring this thought may take me wildly off topic, so I won't... today.)

I don't like writing. I don't like writing fiction. Or poetry. Or answering questions about the last chapter of the ridiculously boring novel you had to read, ("What do you think Johnny was thinking when he killed the fly?"). And of course there is never a wrong opinion, as long as you justify it, (and it doesn't conflict with the teacher's). Essays or lab reports weren't so bad, as at least there was a "recipe", and I'd always get a good mark, but they'd take forever, (university physics lab reports took an average of 5 hours to write up, and were due at 5pm on the day after the lab).
One English assignment required I identify three instances of "literary devices" (alliteration, simile, consonance, anthropomorphism, hyperbole, oxymoron, etc.) in the essay I'd just written. I couldn't find one. "Yes, your writing style is very technical, isn't it?", responded Mrs. Taylor.
But I could write journal. For about a month, we had to write a couple of paragraphs of journal at the beginning of each English lesson. Others would sit there chewing their pens, while I could scribble away pages about nothing. Miss Bartley left a comment on one of my journal entries reading, "I enjoy your random thoughts!" I found this strange, as comments on my work usually said "Good Work" or "Well Done". They make stickers that say "Good Effort", but I've never seen an "I enjoy your random thoughts" sticker. If written by another teacher (eg. Mrs Taylor) though, this comment may have said "Lack of structure and coherence". Is it a case of "fine line between the two"? Is it about the mood/preferences of the reader? I want to say it's more about the context. Are "random thoughts" are allowed (welcomed? encouraged?) in journal, but out of place in other writing? Is that the point of journal? A string of thoughts? A tangled ball of kite line? Pick an end and keep following it and see where you end up? The entire tangle could be one long string, or you could only get a meter before you come to an end. You could pull to hard and snap the line, (this is walking away from the keyboard to get a cup of tea, and forgetting where the thought was going - the metaphor doesn't really work here, does it? See my "literary devices" deficiency above). You could knot all the short strings together, but no one wants knotted kite lines. While following a long string, a short one you've already detangled could (will!) blow away in the wind (I'd like to give an example of a short string here, but I've forgotten it).
Here lies my dislike for structured writing, (revisiting a topic started above - does this count as accidental coherence?). You choose (or are given) a place to end up (thesis), and have to provide a coherent way of getting there (and extra marks for literary devices). So really the kite is the introduction (a way of getting the audience's attention), the bridle is the body (strings leading from the kite, all meeting at...) the flying line is the conclusion (...just because, that's why). Oh, and literary devices are ... line laundry!

I think I've gotten off topic. Wrong string?

Chemainus and Back

I went for a short ride after work today. I would much rather work 8:30 - 5 or something than 9:30 - 6, especially during the winter when it gets dark so early. I am quite happy to ride on the road in the dark, but not so keen on the mountain. I'm supposed to finish at 6, but don't seem to be able to leave before 6:20, no matter how "ready" to leave I am at 5:50. By the time I get home and get changed, etc. its at least 7pm.
Today I didn't get out to ride until about 7:30. Ed (gentleman from the apartment across from mine - at home on workers comp recovering from a torn ACL, also a cyclist) said he was bored, so I invited him along. I asked him to go in front, and said I'd ride at his speed, but he wanted me to go first. He stopped me before we'd got to the roundabout at the end of the block, out of breath, so he went in front for a bit, then decided he couldn't ride with me. I said I was quite happy to go at his pace, but he headed home.
I took a loop back to the highway and rode to Chemainus and back at a steady pace. I would have liked to stay out another hour or so, but I'm already behind on sleep.
Riding past the power station on the east side of the road I startled a deer calf (is that what you call baby deer? ... fawn maybe?). There was a chainlink fence around the transformers, so it just kept running forwards. It was running at exactly my speed, so it kept running along the bank next to me until the end of the fence. It reminded me of the guys jumping the hurdles at Sunday's 'cross race.
I turned by blinker off coming down the hill before the Crofton turn off (at Russel Farm Market) and put my "big" light on medium beam after not seeing some roadkill until the last second. I managed to swerve it, but would have had to carve a tire track through it if the shoulder wasn't so wide. I think it was a cat or a raccoon-like creature. It was fully intact (I don't think I've ever spelt "intact" before), as was the other thing I narrowly missed on my way back. This one had shorter fur though, and was curled up in a ball. First thought was "beaver", but beavers aren't very common around here, are they?
I'm always suprised by the hot and cold spots at night. I'll be riding along, no wind, and the air will suddenly turn cold. Trees provide protection from the wind, but I wouldn't expect they'd hold heat in still air the way they do.
It's starting to get chilly at night. I could have done with something on my arms. I'm so used to just pulling on a jersey. I'll soon have to start the layering again.

Time: 1:23
Distance: 35.9 km