Cell Phone Photography

Now that I carry a cell phone around with me (mostly so that Sue and I can reach each other while we are off on our bikes) I have begun to wonder if the built-in camera can be at all useful. So I have started taking a few snapshots. As one might expect the images are low resolution (640x480) and become even lower in quality because of jpg compression. If I do any image adjustments at all in xnview (my image-editing software) they become very, very compact. Still, I like some of the results. Click on the snapshots above to see them in their full 640x480 splendor.

The trick to getting fairly good shots seems to be threefold: (1) Keep the camera lens clean. (2) Compose the photo carefully. (3) Hold the cell phone still! Most snapshots turn out badly, but then that is also the case with most photos I take with our camera. Experimentation with cell phone photos at least gives me an incentive to carry my phone around and keep it turn on more often.

Roof Repair

Last week I was blowing leaves and twigs off the cabin roof when I noticed a decidedly spongy spot in the plywood decking. This was no surprise. In steady rains the cabin has leaked in that general area (fortunately in the entry to the great room) for much of the past decade. On numerous occasions I had climbed around on the roof, inspecting everything imaginable and searching for the mysterious source of the leak. I could never find it.

So the good news was that the source of the leak could now be pinned down to above and slightly upslope of the spongy decking. I made a trip to town for a couple of packs of shingles and this week I set about the repair. For starters I had to remove all the shingles above the rotten section until I worked my way out to sound wood on all sides. This is trickier than removing an old roof prior to a general reshingling because one must be vigilant not to poke holes in the surrounding shingles. In the best case I would have had to patch only a small section of plywood--perhaps 3 feet by 3 feet--but as it happened, I ended up with about 8 feet by 8 feet ripped away as shown in the picture below.

Of course, this didn't line up perfectly with the support beams beneath, nor was the exposed area perfectly square. And not much to my surprise, a couple of the support beams themselves were past saving. After a couple of afternoons of work, I had created a pretty respectable hole in my roof.

Following another trip to town for a roll of 30 lb felt, I began creating a grid of new beams for the patch. Then I pieced in plywood decking (which was free because I had salvaged it from last winter's siding repairs on the Jonesboro house). I discovered it was a tricky job to slide in roofing felt so that the retained shingles properly overlaid the felt. Then it was just a matter of nailing on the new shingles--a job that inevitably involves a good bit of sanding of one's kneecaps and knuckles on the coarse surface of the shingles.

So now I have a nicely patched roof. The original cause of all the trouble was a single roofing nail that had gradually worked its way loose and incrementally poked a well-concealed hole in the shingles above it. I know that I've eliminated that particular source of leakage, but I won't find out whether the new patch is successful at shedding water until we get a long, soaking rainstorm. But I do know that even if one starts a roof repair in the midst of one of the longest droughts in years--and the forecast shows no rain in the days to come--you can be guaranteed at least some precipitation as soon as you cut a big hole in your roof. For two mornings Sue and I made use of every bucket and pan in the house to capture what we could of unpredicted fall drizzles.

Sue's Biking Breakthrough

This has been a big year for Sue as a road cyclist. She used to prefer to ride her mountain bike on the back roads, listening to a book on CD to pass the time. But, of course, listening to a book slows one down, and it is inherently too distracting to be a safe activity for road cyclists. As she has moved toward road biking, she has set aside the earbuds and discovered the joys of time trialing. Her record speed for our 31.2 mile ride has increased from 13.8 MPH, to 14.8, and finally to 15.1! As her need for speed has grown, she has abandoned her wind-catching skorts, now wearing full roadie regalia earned by our David's Trail charity ride. She has managed to grind her way up Cemetery Hill without stopping to catch her breath. (We just measured that the gradients of Cemetery Hill. In its steepest section it rises at a 16% slope and is about 10% overall!) Sue has learned that it does no harm to keep pushing after one starts to get out of breath. And she has started standing on her peddles for longer and longer sections of the local climbs. In fact, she has entered the Big Leagues--or at least the big leagues of Mountain Home--by joining me on a few of the rides with the local enthusiasts.

Last month Sue and I put out an email call for other Mountain Home cyclists to join us on a ride on October 21st from the Highway 341 bridge, over the top of Matney Mountain, to the top of Push Mountain, and back--about 27 miles in all. Sadly none of the gang had the guts to join us, but we went anyway. It was perfect October biking weather--calm, sunny, and cool. The leaves were at the peak of their autumn colors, so that there was always something visually appealing in the woods of the Ozark National Forest. For both of us the two-mile climb to the top of Matney Mountain felt surprisingly easy. Matney starts out steep, then settles into an almost flat section near the halfway point, and finally kicks up to its steepest gradient just before the top. Fortunately, we both know the mountain well and can easily calibrate our efforts in reaching the top.

The road at the top of Matney Mountain winds up and down along a ridge for several miles, providing several spectacular views of the national forest stretched out far below. Then there is a short descent before Push Mountain Road meanders through several scenic valleys to reach the base of Push Mountain. While Matney Mountain is clearly visible as a distinct mountain--or "knob" in the local dialect--Push Mountain hides its presence. But once you are on its slopes, you know it! It climbs steadily, unrelentingly, through at least a dozen sharp switch-backs during the entire two-mile ascent. That makes the climb a leg-sapping grind for its full length. While one's efforts are not rewarded by any scenic vistas at the top, the terrifying descent does provide a pretty good adrenaline rush. I'm no descender so I tend to hit my brakes hard, grit my teeth, and squeeze my knees against my top tube in an attempt to avoid a crash-inducing shimmy.

I was pleased to reach the top of Push Mountain once again without collapsing in cardiac arrest, but for Sue it was a real triumph! In past excursions she had left me to battle the mountain alone while she peddled loops on the flatland below until I got down safely again. This year she made the climb herself--no whimpering, no stops to catch her breath--in fact she didn't even look especially tired!

The Big Dam Bridge 100 -- 2010

For my birthday in September Sue and I drove to Little Rock to participate in the Big Dam Bridge 100 bicycle ride. Sue opted for the 50-mile course, and managed an admirable 17 mile-and-hour average speed for the ride. I took on the 100-mile ride and also averaged about 17 MPH, but that is especially unimpressive since I averaged 18.8 last year. My only defense is that this year I avoided drafting for most of the ride. When drafting, one coasts along in a protected envelope created by the rider (or riders) up front. At higher speeds drafting is estimated to lighten the workload by as much as 30%. At the same time one's chances of getting caught up in a crash probably increase by 30%. (Every cyclist has seen the crashes at the TDF where a lead rider goes down and takes out fifteen or twenty riders behind him like a line of falling dominoes.)

For about half of this year's ride I was playing tag with a recumbent cyclist. Sometimes I passed him; sometimes he passed me. One thing I noticed is that when a guy on a "bent" gets in the sweet spot for drafting, he hardly has to peddle at all. And, as he said to me, nobody can get an edge by trying to hook onto his train. Since he was drafting every chance he got, he was always able to maintain the speed of the fastest nearby rider. That said, the poor fellow suffered mightily on the few hills we had, but he more than made up for it on the descents. One time I was going over 30 MPH and he passed me, looking like a graceful greyhound sprinting for a rabbit. Eventually, he pulled away from me for good, and I ground on alone.

A 100-mile bike ride is a suffer-fest. This year I got my first fleeting cramp at about the 50 mile mark. From mile 80 to the end, I had to master the art of spinning just-so! A delicate procedure of turning the peddles, standing, and sitting--all with the idea of staving off each new cramp before it can settle into a rock-hard vise grip.

I was pleased to cross the finish line at all.