More On The Bicycle

   Since the last post, the biggest news here is that dw has officially retired. I won't comment on her new status since she has promised several times to write an entry. We shall all wait with bated breath.

   Regarding the bicycle: On my regular route to the rock-climbing gym I've been passing this street person:

  He had the largest collection on his shopping cart I've ever seen (If you look closely you can see a wheel). He was organized, with a green tarp to cover his cart and a blue tarp to sleep under. And the location was odd because the corner is essentially a residential neighborhood with little pedestrian traffic to pass on a dollar or two. After he had been there for two months, he was missing one morning and I figured the police had moved him on. On returning home I saw a small wreath of flowers at the base of the no-parking sign. I looked in the paper but didn't find any notice of his death -- brief or otherwise --- But I'm assuming he died. Another person little noticed  nor long remembered, but someone noticed and cared enough to lay a small temporary memorial.  Donne had it right: the death of a stranger, even if seen indirectly, is affecting.

On a better note, I've had two bicycle adventures with birds. First, I was going down a hill -- moving about 20mph -- when I caught up to a crow who was just drifting along. He (? -- I'm not good at sex identifying crows -- ) was flying low and I came up behind him getting close enough to actually grab his tail (I didn't) before he sped up and turned away. I followed him for about half a block.

And second, I was approaching a bridge when a peregrine falcon swooped over my head from behind, missing me by six inches, and nailing a pigeon which was perched on the bridge. -- An explosion of feathers and a couple of seconds later the falcon flew away with the pigeon in it's talons. I don't really know, but I think the falcon used me as a moving blind. It was great and it happened so fast I didn't have time to be startled and run into a bridge pier or even fall off the curb.

Finally, I have a plane to catch -- and that's hard, they're big and fast -- so I need to bring this to a close.  DJA

Local Color

   Today I rode the bike to the rock gym and back -- fifteen miles round trip. My knee surgeon and the physical therapists have all warned me about over-doing it while I'm recovering from the new knee surgery. But what's the fun in that? By Wednesday I hope to be able to move again.
   However I was reminded of the pleasures of bike riding: In addition to the wonderful aromas wafting about the Williams Avenue restaurant row, today one of the cafes had a quartet (piano, bass, drums and sax) entertaining their breakfast / brunch crowd with some jazz /swing music. I stopped for awhile to listen.

   Later I saw a very odd tandem bike -- the riders were back to back -- a pushmi-pullyu / Janus arrangement. It seems to me that it would be unpleasant for the person moving backwards and I couldn't see any advantage to the arrangement (the bike was nearly as long as an ordinary tandem) It seems like a pointless curiosity.

   Further along on the ride home, I saw this event. It was a neighborhood event, like a block party only they were painting the intersection. A lady involved in the project told me it was part of a week-long event that would see several intersections painted. There's a non-profit organization -- started in Portland -- that helps neighborhoods paint intersections as well as build various sorts of "earth buildings" and establish neighborhood gardens (vbc.cityrepair.org)

   Oddities:  This creation was at a bike shop. I think the rider stands on the pedals and uses the curved silver bar as handlebars. The convoluted pipe bendings seem to have an aesthetic aim. Note the red tail light and the skate-board rear wheels. I didn't see it ridden. The arrangement seems impractical for a cross-country bike tour.

   And the fellow below was sitting on a curb eating a sandwich, drinking his Pepsi and feeding his parrot. It was curious. They were clearly BFF's -- The guy was talking to the parrot and the parrot was chirping, chattering and squawking back in a very conversational manner. The guy was complaining to the bird that it had shat on his shoulder. The bird didn't care but was willing to talk about it. After a bit the guy said: "Let's go." and with a lot of chatter, the parrot walked up to his shoulder (and probably shat again).  And the guy picked up his stuff and left.
   

Bicycling is much more interesting than driving a car, and in a few more weeks I trust a couple of miles on the bike won't be such an epic struggle. DA

The Case Of The Levitating Coyote

Rather than arouse unrealistic expectations, I will admit upfront that I don't actually solve The Case Of The Levitating Coyote.

   A few blogs ago I mentioned that I had started training to ride the STP. -- The Seattle To Portland bike ride. I recently  told a friend at the rock gym, who is six weeks into rehab for a new knee, and who is a younger and fitter (than I am) bicyclist, of my plan to ride the STP. Opining that even with the interruption caused by my upcoming knee surgery I would still have enough time to train for the ride. He didn't even bother to try and conceal his snicker. Telling me, in effect, that while it is possible that pigs will develop wings and fly, the laws of evolution pretty much guarantee that it won't happen in the next five months.
   But I have been repeatedly told by my surgeon, his PA, and not least, by my spousal unit -- dw -- that the stronger and fitter my legs are pre-surgery the quicker and better the re-hab will go.
   (Completely as an aside, the uncapitalized "dw" for dw is her choice. She said that's how she always initials things.)
   Back to the bike riding:  So I have been riding with increasing frequency and distance. Most of my non-errand rides start on the same bike path. It circles around the sewage treatment plant (which generally doesn't smell -- much -- but occasionally could stun a buzzard) and after three miles I choose a long or a short ride. The short ride totals about 10 miles, and the longer one as much as 80. In each case, aside from crossing some streets, I share the way with cars or trucks for only about two miles.

For most of the short ride and the start of the long ride, the bike path is bordered by art installations. This carved limestone clam shell is one of them. There are also similarly sized stone flower buds, snails, dinosaur skulls an American Indian canoe (also stone -- it probably doesn't float) and so on.  The items have a vague connection to the specific area and they make for an entertaining ride. There is also a series of peeled and partially de-limbed trees 15 to 20 feet high set along the path. Some have stylized masks and others pod-like bird houses stuck in the limbs. I wouldn't call any of it significant art but it all provides a distraction from a bicycle-sore ass.

 

And the levitating coyote is in a fenced field that's part of the sewage treatment plant. Perhaps it was put there to discourage geese from hanging around the field  (My solution to the Mystery of the Levitating Coyote) but if that's the case it didn't work. The field is festooned with goose poop. And besides the coyote doesn't look scary, it looks like someone just kicked it in the butt. I concede it's doing its' best, but when you've got no legs and you're levitating -- you're just not very scary -- even to a goose.   DA

Duck!

  A couple of days ago, during a walk, I saw three bald eagles in a tree by the river below the University of Portland bluff. I think they were dad, mom, and teen aged kid, and I was surprised to see them in such an urban setting. -- Very impressive birds. The sight of them reminded me of how the U.S. came to have the bald eagle as our national bird:

   (At this point I  launched into a story about Ben Franklin -- in honor of his birthday -- an eagle, a turkey and a duck. After dw read it, I asked: "Is that as sophomoric as I think it is?" dw took a delicate pause and said: "Yes." -- So I saved myself some embarrassment and erased the  story.) 

   I haven't thought of anything to replace the story, so I'll just leave in the ink and crayon sketches of the eagle and the duck. (Sorry, no turkey)
   



  

  

Books: Grants Final Victory (Charles B. Flood) About the last two years of U.S. Grants life when he was dieing of cancer and struggling to finish writing his memoirs. It's an excellent book and it reminded me of the memoirs themselves -- One of the best memoirs ever written by anyone, I'd strongly recommend them;  Dickens (Peter Ackroyd) This book has a modest word count and few biographical surprises but it's heavily illustrated and well written. I always enjoy seeing pictures of people and places mentioned in a non-fiction book and this one delivers;   Rats (Robert Sullivan) a natural history of rats with no great surprises but well written and consistently interesting;  and Pushkin's Button (Serena Vitale) Which is about the duel that killed Alexander Pushkin -- not as interesting as I'd hoped -- I'm half done with it and I just might be all done with it.  DA
  

April Fools (Or Not)

I picked up a copy of Willamette Week Wednesday, and in the "news" section: What to do this week in arts and culture -- Came across this blurb. "Willy Week" presented this as a regular featured article under "what to do". It's amazing. Two reasons: WW presents this as a regular news and this guy actually convinces people to pay him for looking at them.
   It's not April 1, but I thought this was a joke.  If it's not 4-1, then WW must be channeling  The Onion. Alas, it isn't so. The page is WW being "non-critical".
   (In full disclosure -- WW seems to feel that's important -- I stared at his picture for awhile.  -- According to Braco's web site this should work -- And my knee is still crap.  And my stents didn't spring from my chest like a lot of useless junk -- I've got doubts about how good at healing he is) 
  But look at him. At his sad brown eyes and soft gentle (smirking) smile that seems to say: "I got you to pay me $100 to look at you, and I bet I can do it again."
   WW pretends to be a legitimate newspaper  but it publishes crap like this as real news.
   But I thought: This is a GREAT scam. This guy doesn't actually talk to the public or press. (He probably sounds like a chipmunk on helium) while I have a fine mellifluous bass-baritone so I can actually talk. -- But all I would really need to do is sit and stare at my suckers clients.   I can do this. 

      Are you healed? (That's only $75 -- My special first time rate) Braco is a bit more gentle than I am.  He looks like "Lets all get together, sing Kum-By-Ah, and get well and feel good."  I seem to have a look of: "HEAL, DAMN YOU!" But I think that should work. 
   I've been looking for work that I'm willing to do, (A VERY limited range) and I think this fits the bill. I will definitely pay taxes and social security and everything else on every penny I earn.  DA
      

What The Hell!?

   Thursday I took the bicycle to do some errands and shopping.  The first leg of the ride was to Jantzen Beach's Michaels to get some two inch wooden balls  (insert your own joke here: _____________)  which I needed -- oddly enough -- to finish a painting.  Part of the ride circles around a sewage treatment plant, which occasionally smells bad enough to stun a buzzard, but Thursday was just slightly rank.  After circling the plant and passing an assortment of installation art pieces (most of them are quite nice),  the route crosses a pedestrian/bicycle bridge over the Columbia Slough.  Of interest to me was a new port-a-potty stationed at the end of the bridge.  -- Put there because the odor stimulates the foot/bicycle traffic? --  It's nice that it's there but really -- would the occasional whiz in the bushes make all that much difference?  Also at the far end of the bridge is a one or two acre holding pond for treated (I assume) effluent.  On this occasion a small boat was floating in the liquid.  Purpose unknown but I doubt that anyone was going to water ski.
   (As a side bar devoted to all those people opposed to covering Portland's water storage ponds:  Consider the ducks and geese which paddle around in this sewage pond and then fly over to paddle around in our drinking water)

   Which brings us to What The Hell Is That Thing Floating In The River?   I wrote about this first example last January 20.  I still don't have a clue as to what it might be.  It seems to be a radar dome of some sort but it's not military (or probably not, since the military might not like me taking a picture with my trusty Kodak).  It seems to be a research vessel but it's sure odd.  (maybe it's the Navy equivalent of an AWAC plane)  But the real inspiration for What the Hell!? is the second photo which I took on the ride to Jantzen Beach.  And that thing leaves me with no possible explanation.  -- A camping trip/pleasure-boat for giraffes?  Regarding the scale, the little boat on the left is the same size as the Canby 6-car ferry.  I'm absolutely clueless about it.  There's nothing in the tents.  There are no open (or closed) hatches visible.  The masts have no rigging to use as cranes or davits.  It's just ----- What the hell IS it? ----
   In other news, the guy who was dropped at the Portland Rock Gym (I wrote about the accident on April 27) was back climbing when I was last at the gym.  I was surprised to see him back so soon as I thought his injuries were bad enough to keep him out for longer than three months.  The woman who dropped him was also back although they weren't climbing together.  I didn't notice if anyone was being belayed by the dropper. 
   Finally, yesterday dw and I met John W. (dw's bro) Jan W. (John's wife) Laurel (Jan's mother) and dw's aunt Dee, for dinner at El Indio a tex-mex place in far NE Portland.  The occasion was a celebration of John's 60th B-day.  (dw's dad Bob footed the bill.  Too bad he couldn't be here)  It was good food, and we had a nice time.  The event was slightly dampened by the absence of cousin Craig who is having some health issues.  It was tough, but we honored John's insistence that we NOT tell the waiter it was a birthday celebration -- so we missed out on a clutch of wait people singing Happy Birthday in both Spanish and English.
   Books:  "Genghis Khan" (John Man).  It's the history of Genghis Khan and accounts of Man's experiences in Mongolia and China.  I'm not finished but so far it's a good read.