Onno's Blog

(you should read this at the speed it was typed: slowly)

After a hiatus of about four weeks, today at last I had time to ride the bicycle again. The RBC’s schedule featured a 54 mil ride from Geneseo called Killer Hill. Very appropriate for a glorious return to turning the pedals! A 9:00 am start called for the alarm to be set to 6:45 am. I manage to get out of the bed after hitting the snooze button only twice. To the kitchen to make coffee, then check news, email, facebook, print the route map. Breakfast is yoghurt with oatmeal. Then it is time to change into the cycling uniform, fill the water bottles and pack up the bag. Down to the basement storage to retrieve the bicycle, helmet and shoes. Just as I am halfway back up the stairs with the bicycle over the shoulder, my downstairs neighbor kindly opens the hallway door. Great timing! Thanks Jimmy!

I put it all in the car then quickly back upstairs to give Squeak her shot, get the coffee mug and I’m ready for the drive to Geneseo which takes about 35 minutes. The Grateful Dead plays lllOUDLY on the stereo singing of important matters such as a monkey at the controls of a train and that your cards aint worth a dime if you don’t lay em down. Right at the traffic light to turn into the Wegmans parking lot from where our rides start I pull up behind Steve and Cathy.

A fair group is assembling. Not only Steve and Cathy give act de présence after their Switzerland and France vacation but also Gary back from his mini tour de France. When everybody is ready we roll out towards Reservoir Road. While 54 miles isn’t an epic distance I will have to pace myself to keep this on the fun side. There are four main climbs (Springwater, Vista, Coffee Hill and Groveland). Vista and Coffee I haven’t done before but know that they’re the hardest of the four. A fast group very quickly forms with Gary, Bill, Steve, Bobbie and a few more. Our group (Richard, Joel, Jules, Tom, Bruce) follows at a more mature pace. Richard grew up just outside Dansville in which direction we’re heading and entertains us with stories and anecdotes of the area.

Just after the hamlet of Sparta the first climb up Springwater road is before us. Richard and another rider grind heavily through the gears and fall back. About halfway Joel comes up besides me and we climb up together. We gather up Ginn who fell back from the first group, Jeff is just a little further up.

“This used to be easier,” I say to Ginn. “This was never easy,” he responds. Good point.

We’re now on Reed Corners road which is a lovely winding and mostly downward road. Downward of course means upward in the near future. After a left on Depot and a left on Vista this is so. On the map Vista looked fairly short. Up to the second sharp turn it’s certainly steep but nothing too disconcerting. One look up coming through that second turn puts the matter firmly to rest: a vertical wall awaits me. Tching goes the chain onto the largest sprocket and five meters further I’m up out of the saddle. Four, five hunderd meter further it flattens a bit which is code for “13% instead of 19%.” After which it picks up again. I am breathing like a vacuum cleaner. Joel passes me, doesn’t seem too stressed.

A few miles past the rest stop at Dansville awaits Coffee Hill. I’m not too sure about that one, legs and lungs still hurt. In the village I missed a traffic light so I am at the back of the group. At the start of this hill there’s an option to turn right skipping the climb, catching up with the route further on. This is quite appealing. Surely someone else will think still too and I’ll just follow them! I watch the group ahead of me, Bruce goes straight, Tom goes straight, Jeff goes straight. Richard. Richard will turn. No, goes straight. Ginn then? No, straight up too. Jules, surely my pal Jules will turn right and save us both! Alas. Darn, now I have to do that climb too.

It turns out to be way easier than Vista. It’s steep in the beginning but then just grinds on for two miles or so. After the summit we descend for about half a mile, come to a roadblock. Bridge is closed up ahead. We have to go back up the hill then right, right again. I trust this extra climb comes out of our club membership fees?

This is a roughly flat section till we get to Groveland. Bruce and Joel kindly keep looking back, wanting me to latch on. But while the climbing goes quite well, I have to pace myself in between to cover up for the lack of endurance. Eventually I do catch up. Bruce and I chat a while about BikeJournal.com, Garmin Connect (it sucks: a technical term indicating low quality and entertainment value). Bruce found a new one: RideWithGPS.com. One reason why Garmin Connect uh well sucks, is that after they bought Motionbased.com (which didn’t uh well suck), they tried to convince that development team to relocate from Sausolito, CA to Kansas. That, apparently, didn’t go over so well.

I ride up Groveland with relative ease. From here it’s about 8 or 9 miles back to base. I am enjoying the wonderfully tired feeling in my legs. Sometimes when you’ve been riding well the muscles hurt in such a good way.

Back in the parking lot some of us gather where Joel and Bruce parked. Joel has his folding chair out, gets another one for Bruce. I lean against Bruce’s car. We smalltalk. Then we notice that Bruce has a new bike! He gets up to talk about, points out important elements of the bicycle. I listen but I eye the now free chair as well. Would it be impolite to just sit down? No, that’s not nice. But he’s still talking about the bike. Others ask him questions. I glance again at the chair. More questions, more Bruce explaining and pointing. That’s it, I’m sitting down. His legs are still young. New, light bike, he’s fine. Oh, that chair is nice. Joel is now my favorite club member.

In my previous post I wrote about assisting with the Quadzilla bike race.

A couple of the riders blogged too. To read about the event from a participant’s perspective:

• Leslie: http://andrewholton.blogspot.com/2010/08/quadzilla-400.html
• Jud: http://www.njrando.com/blog/?p=133

Oh and I can report that Dennis did indeed break the record!!

Quadzilla has its own web site: http://www.quadzilla.us/

On Saturday I helped out with the Quadzilla bike race: a 400 mile ride from Ithaca, NY circumnavigating all the finger lakes which riders need to complete in 40 hours. Tough? Nah, as Mark Frank the organizer says: “Anyone can do 400 miles at 10 mph.” Right. Sure.

I was stationed at the Geneseo rest stop together with Bonnie. This was the half way point. Riders came here by way of Letchworth Park, continued on from here to Canandaigua and then to the sleep stop in Auburn. Our duties? Basically try to do whatever we could to make life a little more comfortable for the riders.

To paint the picture: The race started at 5am Saturday morning in Ithaca. We set up our stop at 5:30pm and saw the first two riders roll in just after 6pm. They were already 13 hours underway with still 210 miles to go having done already many of our favorite hard climbs like Gannett, Coffee Hill, Groveland and many more. From our stop to Auburn – roughly 80 miles – were mainly rolling hills with then the hard and steep stuff on the 140 mil stretch back to Ithaca. This weekend there was a hard southernly wind and many of the riders suffered it badly.

Dennis and Henrik were the first to come through our stop. Dennis’ wife Sherrie (sp?) was crewing for him. She was uncertain if Dennis would want to switch to his night bike or wait till Canandaigua. Should she get it out of the car and ready? But if he didn’t want it it would be trouble for nothing. But I said if you don’t then you’ll see he’ll want it. So she got it all ready for him before he got there and yes, he did want to switch bikes. Dennis was not looking good, a bit dehydrated. Henrik looked like he was just on a quick ride before breakfast. That difference would impress me during the night: some looked disheveled after 200 miles (I certainly would) and others like they’re just on their way to Starbucks for the morning coffee.

Dennis was going for the course record. I hope he made it! But as of my writing this, results have not come through yet. Fingers crossed!!

Two hours after this duo Marcel came through. A soft-spoken introvert French-Canadian from Quebec. He appeared in great shape. I saw him many hours later at 3am at the sleep stop at Auburn where he had showered, changed clothing and got ready to depart for the next stretch. The sleep stop is a bit of a misnomer I got the impression. I think most riders stop there relatively briefly, certainly not long enough for any good nap time.

Just after Marcel left, Michelle rolled in. She had back problems and getting off the bicycle was a bit of an operation. But after some time in one of our folding chairs she was giggling away again and I have developed the theory that if Michelle is giggling then all is well. While Michelle was at our stop three more cyclists arrived giving Michelle company to ride with.

Around 10:30pm if I remember correctly Mark biked into the park where our rest stop was, our beloved organizer!! He hadn’t done much riding this year and wasn’t sure beforehand how far he would get but he made it halfway! He looked tired though, happily sinking down in a chair. I gave him the Monster soda can from our cooler. When I picked up the supplies for our stop from Mark on Thursday evening I noticed there were many cola and s-up cans but only one Monster making me think this one was for him. Karen, Mark’s wife, arrived with the pickup truck a little later. Bonnie and I were sure that Mark would stay here, not ride on. But after some wife and husband talk Mark summoned his steed and bravely rode on into the night towards Canandaigua.

During the course of the evening, our stop was officially open till midnight, a couple of riders were dropped off by Karen who had to abandon the race. When the last cyclist came through in Geneseo a little logistical juggling took place. We had to pack up all the stuff (folding tables, remaining supplies etc) in Bonnie’s car and mine, then see how to get three cyclists plus bikes to Canadaigua and eventually to Auburn. Karen took two in the pick up truck meaning one had to ride in the open back. I took the third, Makoto-san from Michigan. He and I chatted for a little bit but he quickly fell asleep and I listened to my Grateful Dead playlist while driving.

The Canandaigua stop was right on the lake. Bonnie and I thought our stop was windy. Peanuts compared to here. This stop was without any shelter and the wind was blustering in straight over the water. “Ohh, it calmed down,” shrugged Judy. This stop featured hot food (pasta, potatoes, burgers). How she managed to cook in the midst of that windy onslaught I have no idea. Driving the 35 miles to Canandaigua goes a little quicker than cycling it meaning I got to meet again some of the cyclists that came through the Geneseo stop and see how everybody was holding up a windy 35 miles later.

Here we waited for Marcia. The mystery person. Beforehand by means of Mark’s email and while operating our stop Bonnie and I had heard many great things of Marcia, the crew chief and the person who can be in many places at once (I just watched Frank Herbert’s Dune again). But we never met or saw her. Maybe she does not exist… You know, these long-distance cyclists, who knows what happens with their minds…? But there she was. Cheerful, organized and patient. Do not forget that she got up at 3am too just like the riders and had been driving back and forth between the stops. Amazing. She had just picked up Mark who did had to abandon just before Canandaigua. Two hundred and twenty miles, a great achievement!

Marcia gathered two more riders who had abandoned, my passenger was still napping in my car, and we went off to Auburn. Bringing them to Auburn (instead of back to Ithaca) gave them a chance to shover, rest more and then have the ability to ride back to Ithaca still completing most of the distance of the race. From Auburn it was back home to Webster for me where I arrived at 5am.

I am very happy that I volunteered to help out. It was an incredible experience to see these boys and gals attempt and succeed in this race. To receive and assist the riders as they came through Geneseo after already at least 13 hours and for some 20 hours of hard effort was very rewarding. And I learned from them with regards to my own cycling: I need to drink more, try to eat real food (a proper sandwich) during breaks, use the Endurolyte pills that sit in my cupboard.

All of the participants impressed me:

• Dennis for his quiet determination
• Henrik fresh as a shiny apple after 200 miles
• Leslie, the most cheerful cyclist I’ve ever met
• George in his rush to keep going and ignore his stomach problems
• Michelle deserving the giggle award
• Renato bubbling over with adrenaline just wanting to talk, talk
• Mark F. who seems to look younger the more tired he gets. What secret is hiding here?
• Mark S. carefully taking in bits of food and slowly, slowly warming up to our conversation
• Craig from Pennsylvania who I teased about not riding here from there
• Tim and Jeff who knew each other from magazine articles and now met for the first time?
• Makoto-san who calmly, quietly endured the hours until we got him back to Auburn
• And also Marcel (I wish a spoke better French), Glen, Jud, Chester, and I fear I am forgetting someone for which I apologize.

I took some pictures which you can find in the gallery.

One thing I miss since the onslaught of digital photography is playing in the darkroom and doing black&white photography. Occasionally when editing a project I think “oh, that should look good in black and white.” In the photo editing application, I convert the image to black&white but seldom does it really come out as great black&white photos can as with the beautiful Ilford films of old.

My D90 can take be set to take black & white photos. I tried that once before but left the image format setting at RAW only then to be confused at first when the images were all in full color after loading them onto the computer…

This Sunday, remembering that lesson, I ventured out to Irondequoit Bay. I set the camera to black&white and to JPEG. The fun thing about the D90 is that it can also simulate yellow, green and red filters. And so I played with those too even while my photo club days at the SGN High School are quite a bit behind me, having to do a bit of memory surging to recall the effect of each filter.

There is something about black & white so be prepared to see more.

Have a look in the gallery to see how I did.

Over the coming weeks I’ll be re-posting my favorite entries from an old blog. This is the first one, first published on March 14, 2007.

The weekend of Feb 24-25 was the FOSDEM conference in Brussels. Just a train ride away from Amsterdam, so I flew over a day earlier to first swing by the family and then continue on to the conference.

I flew into Zaveltem and took the train to Amsterdam. When the train approached the Schiphol station it was announced that it wasn’t going any further, so we had to get off and switch to a train that was continuing on to the Centraal station. When back on train, I settled in my seat and nodded off. About 15-20 minutes later the train arrived at the Centraal station. I reached over to the seat next to me, picked up my coat and …. and …, no backpack..!? When I got on the train I put my suitcase on the floor before the seat, my backpack on the seat next to me and my coat over it. Coat’s there, suitcase’s there, no backpack. In the fifteen minutes between the two stations that I nodded off someone managed to run off with the backpack. With in it my laptop, my cell phone, my Sun badge, and my passport.

Walked over to the police station at the train station. When the desk officer heard that my passport was stolen, he sent me back to the Schiphol airport to report the theft to the Marchaussee (Dutch military/border police). Kindly he phoned ahead. So back to the airport. Filed the police report and then to the so-called “Afdeling Nooddokumenten” (Department for Emergency Documentation). When the lady there heard me say that I was Dutch but lived in the US and that I needed an emergency passport before Monday (this is Thursday) when I would be flying back to the US, she got a little difficult look on her face. “What documents do you have?” she asked. Well, I still had my wallet and in there were my green card and my NY state driver’s license. “Maybe you’re able to travel with those,” she said. She phoned an Homeland Security official and the person confirmed that with those two pieces I should be able to get back in the country. I thought “worth a try, we’ll see what happens.”

Now back on the train on to Amersfoort, about 30 minutes from Amsterdam. Sun’s Dutch office is there. There is a so-called drop-in office in Amsterdam, but that is unmanned (ie, no receptionist) and so unlikely to get into without the badge. Have to report the laptop’s absence to Sun security, order a new badge, change passwords, and then re-create as much as possible the material for the JCP EC meeting on Feb 27-28 and other meetings later in the week. All of a sudden I find myself warped back to the 80-ies: need to be in a real office in order to do any work. That’s where the computer is, where the telephone is. And it needs to happen during normal business hours: without the badge I can’t go in or out outside those hours.

On Monday morning after the FOSDEM conference to the airport. I’m flying United. Before you get to the check-in desk there is the security check. The guy asks for my passport. I say I don’t have one and hand him the police report. Luckily they can read Dutch in Belgium. I give him my green card and driver’s license. He reads through the police report and then asks me all the usual questions: where did you stay, is this your luggage, who packed it, where, etc etc. He then shows the paperwork to his supervisor, the supervisor nods and we’re done. On to the desk to check in. From there to passport control and to the gate. The guy at passport control asks: “You don’t have a passport? They’re letting you on the plane?” “Yeah,” I say showing him the boarding card, and I am through. At the gate for the flight they again check IDs. When it is my turn, I give the United lady my boarding card, tell her about the passport. She looks a bit puzzled, looks over her shoulder for her supervisor. He’s standing about 15 feet away with his back to us. I can almost hear her think: “Oh what the heck.” She shrugs, gives me back my boarding card and I am on the plane. Across the ocean we land at Washington Dulles. On to the next hurdle. I have my customs form filled out and with the green card, driver’s license in hand I approach the immigration officer. “Passport?” he asks. “Don’t have one, stolen” I respond. He seems largely uninterested, stamps the customs form and when he hands it all back remarks: “Hope nobody makes fraudulent use of your passport.” Me too. I walk on and I am back in the US. First order of business: find a pay phone to tell Rachel that the husband made it back.

This Monday I went to the Dutch Consulate in New York City to file for a new passport. When asked for my current passport I replied that I don’t have one, explained what happened and handed over the police report. The guy looks at me quite stunned: “But how did you get back in without a passport!?” “Well, it was quite easy, actually.” He calls over his manager. She declares: “Nobody travels to the US without a passport these days.” But I am here, am I not? She makes me tell the story again. They are still confused. The application is filed. The new passport should be ready in three weeks or so. I brought a copy of my birth certificate with me. I still had that from the green card application. I offered it to the Consulate guy: “Not necessary,” he says, “I believe you’re Dutch.”

Turns out that it was easy traveling without the passport. It was amazingly easy. I had prepared myself for all kinds of arguments with officials, extra security checks and so on. I arrived at the Brussels airport three hours ahead of the flight to allow for all that. But none of it, it went almost quicker than normal.

Today was the Tour de Cure ride, in support of finding a cure to diabetes.

I signed up a long time ago for the century ride (for the unwashed: that’s a 100 miles) assuming I would be riding 3-4 times a week and completed 2 or 3 centuries before then. Alas, between writing code for the secret startup, selling the house and moving not much cycling happened the last month or so except for weekend rides. Nonetheless, with the house stuff finally done with (yay!) I was very much looking forward to riding. With its start time of 7:30 am and needing to register required getting to Mendon Ponds Park at 7, leaving the apartment at 6:30, getting up at 5:30. Painful.

Got the bicycle from the basement storage into the car, helmet and shoes there too, the bag with clothing, food, maps and stuff. Travel mug with coffee and I’m ready to go. Many cars trying to park at Mendon Ponds. I find a spot on the side of the road. I get the bicycle out the back of the car, put the front wheel in, the computer on the handlebars, hang the helmet on the handlebar. Pump the tires. There is something more though. I do do these things indeed before the ride and then there’s one more thing that I do with the bike or put on it. But what? I get the mug, take a sip of coffee and stare at the bike. What can it be? Ohh! Drink bottles. Right, they’re still on the kitchen table at Webster Manor. Hmm. Well, I still want to ride, I’m sure the route will soon take us past a convenience store.

With my number pinned to the back of the jersey I roll into the parking lot where the start is, arriving just in time for the team group picture. A large crowd of cyclists is lining up behind the starting line. The different distances start at different times (shorter ones later). I don’t think this many are doing the century so I guess many others decided to get an early start. This leads to the usual hazards: many riders not very good at handling their bikes at slow speeds, many cyclists too impatient, leading to some collisions where mainly pride got hurt. We roll out of the park northwise and then swing back around the park. Already within the first two miles there are several flat tires. This scene will continue throughout the ride: almost every mile you would see stopped riders on the side of road changing tires. Also within the first few miles I get stuck behind a car that is hesitating a very long time to pass a slow group before it. The result is that I loose contact with the team. I try for a couple of miles to close the gap but with a train consisting of Gary, Bob, Dwight, Dave, Ed, Billy and Sara that’s a tall order and I let it go. I’ll need to stop anyways at the convenience store in Rush.

The low mileage of the last few weeks doesn’t seem to bother me as I get a decent clip going. At a junction I catch up with a fellow RBC club member (sorry dude, forgot your name!). He latches on and we ride together to the rest stop at 28 miles. He tells me his dad got a flat and is somewhere behind him. His dad is 72 doing a century ride. That’s impressive. After the rest stop I pick up the rhythm again. The landscape rolls a bit here. With the low clouds, sometimes fog, there isn’t much to see. I start thinking of the purpose of the ride: the cure for diabetes. Several friends and family members suffer or have suffered that disease, including my mother. I pass the time paging through fond memories of my mother who passed away two years ago (just a few of these memories you can find here). And my cat Squeak has diabetes too.

I come past a farm. The owner put a sign on the side of the road: Barrels For Sale. This makes me chuckle. We should send some to BP.

At the Lakeville rest stop (mile 60 or so) I see Gary, Dwight and Larry assisting Larry repairing his flat. Gary tells me the rest of the group is waiting at the top of the hill. I have mixed feelings about this. It is great to see the team and ride with the group but the pace is guaranteed to be murderous. But hey, I’m here! Let’s roll! With the flat repaired we ride up the hill to the group, down the other side. At the bottom we turn right in order to go down one side of Conesus Lake and back the other. The pace indeed shoots up. Till then my ride’s average was 19.2 mph. This is going to pull it up quite a bit. I tell myself I’ll try to stay with the group till we swing around the far end – about 8 or 9 miles.
Halfway, the paceline is moving between 24 and 27 mph, Dave behind me calls out “Slowing!”
A typical warning to cyclists behind you that there’s a significant drop in speed.
I look at the riders in front of me; we seem still to be pacing along nicely, thank you.
So I ask Dave: “Are you sure?”
“Yes, “ is his reply, “I’m very good at distinguishing between 26 and 25.5mph.”

On the other side the road rises up. Two riders from a group we caught earlier are in the middle just ahead of me. They slow down but don’t move to the side. One says: “I got a flat” but they still stay in the lane. This creates a gap of about 50 yards with the group. I think about standing up and riding to them but decide that racing down one side of Lake Conesus is good enough; don’t have to do that too on the other side. I drop the pace coasting back to the rest stop at Lakeville. Okay, coasting is perhaps a bit too much credit: I’m very tired. First Ed then Ginn pass me but it’s all good. I catch up at the rest stop. They have sandwiches here, yummy! I notice that everybody looks tired. While it’s delightful sitting on the chair, after I finished my lunch I get up. I want to ride on before my legs get too stiff. Otto thinks so too. We get our bikes, are about to roll, when I notice I have a flat tire. I use a certain word to capture my, ehh, disappointment. I get the rear wheel out, sit down on a folding chair to perform the repair. The group is ready to go. Ed calls back if I want them to wait. No, please go and ride on. Very unlikely that I’ll hold a back wheel.

With the repair done the route goes to Avon. After a mile or so the road goes up a bit to the I-390 overpass. Right there I’m being yelled at: Peter’s got a flat and the whole group is there. While Peter repair his tire a cyclist with a very nice TT-bike comes walking up the road. He’s got a flat too but no pump. Guess that didn’t fit the aesthetics of the bicycle? We lend him one of ours. He pumps air back in the tire. But only few hundred yards later he already pulls over: with a puncture, just pumping the tire doesn’t get you far.

I let the group go wanting to pedal my own, slower, tempo. After a few turns the road will take us into Lima. Just a mile or so before the village there’s Jack&Jill’s Inn. Their sign always makes me smile: Spaghetti Our Specialty, since 1947. After 60 years you do get really good at it. Just past the inn Larry and Ginn are on the side of the road: another flat for Larry, his third. I stop too. Ginn and Larry seem to have matters under control but I don’t mind the break. We roll on through Lima on our way to Honeoye Falls. And just on the other side of Lima Ed is on the side of the road: yes, a flat. A sweep&safety car stopped here too. They have a good foot pump. Larry takes the opportunity to get more air in his tire than is really possible with our hand pumps. A cyclist we just passed stops too and takes out his front wheel: another flat.

From there our group of four actually makes it back to Mendon Ponds Park without further incident. A nice touch too: at the finish line a group of enthusiastic people clapping for and cheering each rider. One by one we find our cars and change out of the wet cycling gear. Then strolling back to the field where the tents are. Dave Lamb did such a good job with the team that the level of fundraising awarded us with our own tent. Everybody hangs in their chairs. There are some conversations but there are also a few nodding off. Peter and Michael look remarkably fresh as if they mere did a little stroll in the park. We finish the day sipping and toasting champagne courtesy of our team leader, mr David Lamb.

The flats notwithstanding and the tired legs notwithstanding, it was a great ride and a great event. Very well organized. All the rest stops were great especially the sandwiches at Lakeville.

…or maybe just a little of it…

Last night my friend Mark returned to the live performance circuit with his brother-in-law, Jeff. Their acoustic duo is called Head Space. The performance was at the Cottage Hotel in Mendon, according to Mark’s email “a cool, roadhouse kind of joint. Good food, good drinks, ace sound system, and room for dancing.”

Well, that may be so but that was hard to determine at first. I had programmed the address into the GPS. When I got to the 64 & 251 junction it told I was there, I had arrived. However, nothing was to be seen. All was dark. I examined the four corners of the junction, seeing all the cars parked along the right hand corner and trusting that the GPS was right, it had to be the building on that corner. I parked, found the front door, walked in. Plenty of people inside a dark room: the storm had taken out the power in this area. Candles were out, the beer taps were still working: the party is on!

This evening four bands would be playing starting with Head Space. There was some discussion among the musicians: who needed electricity and how much? Someone found a generator, parked it outside the side door. It had just enough wattage to power the sound board, one lamp (so the sound guy could see what dials he was twisting), a few microphones and two loud speakers (one for the musicians so they could hear what they were doing, and one for the audience so we could hear what they were playing).

Mark and Jeff tuned their guitars and started playing. I believe Mark told me they hadn’t performed in years. Must have been a little unsettling to make the come-back under these circumstances. With just the one speaker I don’t think the musicians could hear themselves very well. But they did great playing songs by the Dead and others for about 20-25 minutes. At the end two little girls walked up to Mark seemingly to request a song. “Not sure we can do anything, we played all the songs we know,” Mark mumbled while bending over to hear them out. It turned to be a Happy Birthday song for a family member.

What was a bit sad for Mark and Jeff, but good for the evening, was that the lights came back on just a few minutes after their performance.

You can find the pictures I took in the gallery. I took some by natural light to give you an idea how dark it was while Head Space was playing.

After yesterday’s geeky day at RIT (BarCamp Rochester, talks ranging from how to hack the phones in the elevators at RIT to needing more technologists in politics – see my work blog) today is again a day of cycling.

First of all the Tour of Flanders is on! The all-knowing steephill.tv site points to a site streaming the live broadcast of a Spanish tv station. With SportWereld.be’s live ticker in another window I have perfect coverage of the race. I watch Cancellara and Boonen sneak away on the Berendries and then Cancellera drops Boonen on De Muur. 15 Kilometers remain. The guy in front is the time trial world champion. Boonen is riding in his home country, in the Belgium national champion jersey, he’s won this race twice before but will need to settle for second best this time. The way Fabian Cancellara rode away on De Muur was impressive, he didn’t even get out of the saddle, just pedaled away.

That done it is time to get my bicycle ready. Yesterday at RIT while catching up with email I had seen an email exchange between David, Sara and others discussing a ride tomorrow from his house. A 1:30pm start and a slower 30 mile ride. With riding to his house and back that would make it around a 55-ish mile ride. Nice distance. Some determined scrounging through the email archive digs up his address and I am off. Google Maps suggested down East to Main and then along Chili Ave all the way. That didn’t sound like fun; instead I go down Elmwood, pick a bit of the canal path and then let Paul Road take me into Chili village. There is a bit of head wind but perfectly on schedule at 1:15pm I arrive at Chateau Sorrel where Duc David kindly welcomes me garden tools in hand and informs me that tomorrow was yesterday.

This tomorrow-thing stumps me. The day indicator comes up in conversation most often yet no calendar shows when it is. Reminds me of Umberto Eco’s The Island of the Day Before. The story is about a sailor getting stranded on an island in the Pacific Ocean and it is also about the 16th-17th century frantic competition between the sea-fearing nations to find a method to determine longitude. Well, as it is an Umberto Eco novel there are as many story lines in the book as you like. Anyways, while stranded on the island the sailor tries to understand the emerging concept of time zones and so the island visible on the horizon to the west is imagined to be in the past, or of the day before (time equals longitude in case you’re lost on the connection).

But back to today which, dear reader, we just learned is not tomorrow. David gives me some ideas in what direction to continue my ride. I set off. I used to do this more often but haven’t in quite a while: ride without a route planned. It is a lot of fun. I make it a “let’s turn right here, go left there” kind of ride. With a GPS on the handlebars this is a little less Lewis and Clark than in centuries past but in our modern times one does what one can. I make a broad sweep around RIT and Mendon Ponds Park eventually returning within the safe borders of Rochester City.

Another favorite book by Umberto Eco is The Name of the Rose. A bit like after The Da Vinci Code was published there were theories abound regarding hidden messages and symbolic meanings of the story. Some time later the author answered in an interview why he wrote the book: “I wanted to kill a monk.”

But, beloved reader, we digress once more. Let us return to today and remember that tomorrow is yesterday.

(Note to self: when reading emails discussing plans for ‘tomorrow’, check the time stamp…)

This is a call to action for all knees! Join in protest before it is too late!

We have just become aware of this year’s Highlander Tour. Were previous editions already cause for concern, this time the course is truly offensive and entirely disrespectful of us knees. Not only does it contain Bopple but also hideous contraptions like Gannett, Stid Hill, and Sliter. Sliter… we mean, who names a hill that!?

As we all know us knees are under-appreciated, blamed for all kinds of things that aren’t our fault and at the same time the most hard-working joints in the body. If that brain above thinks something is funny then we’re jerked. If it is smitten then one of us takes the fall. If it looses courage then somehow we’re the ones who are weak.

But we digress. Bopple. The Highlander organizers misleadingly claim its incline is 23%. While we, the knees, would already protest to anything over the rate of inflation, its incline is more, much more. Usually well-informed knees who wish to remain anonymous for fear of retaliation have shared this picture with us that shows Bopple’s true incline. But there is more that upsets us, for example the placement of the cemetery near the top of this thing. Who thought that was funny!?

We must take action now before it is too late. Too many a knee succumbed on this climb, snapped, cracked, splintered, fell to the elements, blocked and bonked that we must shout loudly: “Just say knee!” To get our campaign under way we propose a march from the top of the hill to the cemetery. There we will lay a wreath at the Tomb of the Unknown Knee.

But this is not just about us, knees. We must recognize that our suffering is shared by all joints. Let us call out to ankles, hips, lower backs, elbows, saddle joints (but not that pivot joint; that thing is a freak show). And let us stand shoulder to shoulder to the organizers of this event! Demand that Highlander be flattened!

Email us at KneesAgainstBopple@onno.com to show your support.

Signed,

Onno’s Knees
(on behalf of the Knees Against Bopple Action Committee)

Last night was ROC Twestival, part of a worldwide series of charity events to promote the cause of education. These are entirely volunteer organized and hosted events. Our local hero you see pictured here, Matthew Raw, who again pulled of a great event and doing it while appearing as relaxed and laid back as ever!

This time it was at Lovin’ Cup which is behind Barnes&Nobles store at RIT. Now I had been to that bookstore many times, always walked in through the front door and left through the front door. This time I walked around store en route to Lovin’ Cup. Turns out there’s a whole village of cafes, restaurants and shops behind it! Made me think of Once Upon A Time In The West, the scene with Claudia Cardinale arriving at the train station. As she walks through the station house the camera pans over the building revealing the town behind it.

In the afternoon I realized that I hadn’t fed the beast that is Flickr in quite a while and decided to bring my camera which led to some frantic battery charging….

Some pretty good local bands played. I saw Moho Collective, Sinzibukwud Band, Eight Bar Measure, Teagan and the Tweeds, and missed some others.

I had a lot of fun taking pictures at the event; it was a bit like photographing Rochester’s famous people. See if you can spot all of them!

Mosey on over to the gallery!