Complete

I've always loved bicycles. I don't know what it is about them... It's like my fixation with legos as a child was morphed into an adult fixation of velocipedes. I've had some of the best, and worst, times of my life while saddle-bound. The best always involved beautiful trails, good people, and an inner need to go head-to-head with gravity. The worst involved being thrown over the handlebars and fracturing my left collarbone. Regardless of the outcome, I will forever be infatuated with two-wheelers.

For a very, very long time it has been a goal of mine to build a bicycle. To pick a frame. To hunt down each and every component. To be picky. To be patient. To devise a color scheme and stick to it. To build my bike. My goal has come to fruition.

A year ago I purchased a Surly Cross-Check frame from a local bike shop in Seattle. Surly is a company based in Minnesota that produces some of the most wonderful bicycles on the market. Each feature is carefully planned and has years of testing to back up its inclusion. I chose the Cross-Check because of its reputation, its simplicity, and its versatility.

The next step of the process was deciding exactly what purpose this pony would serve. When I thought of all of the possible options I finally settled on "commuter". Having been recently accepted into graduate school, why not build a bike I would ride nearly every day. And, while I'm at it, let's make it a single speed.

Since making those key decisions, it's been a process. I've added parts, changed parts, broken parts, and finally, settled on parts. Wyoming, Idaho, and Washington have contributed through local pedal houses and open roads.

Without further adieu...







Here's to projects and the joy they bring.

Riley

Bainbridge Island

Caitlin and I are in the early stages of a new, exciting adventure. For those of you who don't know, I'm starting a Master of Education program in mid-August. The first year is here on the island at a place called IslandWood. The following year will be at the University of Washington.

A few days after my evacuation, we moved the majority of our belongings into a condo on Bainbridge Island. Now, when I say "we" moved, what I actually mean is that her parents and brother were wonderful enough to donate a Sunday to help shlep our rubbermaid tubs from Seattle, across the ferry, onto Bainbridge Island, and into our new living quarters. My contribution came in the form of carrying our sleeping bags, one at a time.

Caitlin is working on Mount Baker at the moment and I'm holding down our fort. With the wonderful location we managed to land, I can easily walk to nearly every possible necessity. This includes, which I am still thanking my lucky stars for, a chiropractic clinic that is less than the length of a football field from our condo. I've only had one visit thus far but come Monday I should know a lot more as to the extent of my injuries and how long the road to recovery will be. A couple of days ago I broke down, feeling overwhelmed with my discomfort and lack of mobility. Having a chiropractor so close was an instant exhale for my overloaded mind.

But, enough of that... The true purpose of this entry is to show off our new home!


I went for a walk earlier and thought the contrast of sail boat masts against the trees was magnificent.


This is downtown Winslow. It's less than a mile from us and has some really, really neat shops. Our favorite on prior trips to the island is a place called the Blackbird Bakery.

I really like Bainbridge Island. Having never lived in a big city, it will serve as a welcome buffer from Seattle but will also allow us to explore the big city streets in preparation for year two of my program. The access to live music is something in which I am particularly excited.


Our condo, in all its glory, buried in our tubs. More photographs will follow as we actually install. It has a fairly simple layout. The kitchen flows into the living space, our bedroom is adjacent, and the a bathroom with a stacked washer/dryer rounds it out. Compared to the other places we looked at, we're living incredibly well. We do have a deck off of our bedroom that looks into pure forest. It's my favorite part of our space.

So, we're here for one year. Exciting! A new chapter unfolds! We're both really excited to become members of the Bainbridge community and take advantage of everything it has to offer. I already found something that I think would be really fun!



Come visit!

Riley

Ebackuated

Wow. This past month has been an absolute whirlwind. A month ago tomorrow, I asked Caitlin to marry me. Eight days after that I lost my Grandmother. Two days following I went into the field for a month-long mountaineering course in the Waddington Range of British Columbia. Eleven days later I sustained an injury to my mid-back during a routine rescue class. That injury led to 72 hours without a blink of sleep, intense pain surges, and finally a self-evacuation from a course I've literally waited years to have the opportunity to work. And now, things are at a semi-standstill as I explore which avenue will provide the quickest road to recovery. But, before I become too wrapped up in yet another whirlwind, I wanted to take one final, deep, Waddington breath.


After two days of driving, combined with a two-hour ferry ride, our course boarded float planes, four at a time, to be flown to the Bute Inlet where our bipedal travel would begin.


The next four days were spent negotiating every vegetative barrier the coastal mountain ranges have to offer. Here, we look back upon the Slide Alder that consumed over half of a day.


July 4th brought on the blue! And, our first day of travel on glacier. Up until this point, we'd seen only rain, rain, and more rain.


After a particularly long day we rolled into camp at 9:00 p.m. just as the sun was setting over Mount Waddington, the highest peak in the Coast Mountains of B.C.. Magnificent!


Remoteness in full swing, our re-supply of groceries arrived by helicopter. This day also brought about a highlight for me as I went on my first helicopter ride to install a cache of food and fuel for our future progress.

Which brings us to June seventh, the day following our re-ration. In the afternoon, we were teaching our students a rescue technique for retrieving a fallen member from a glacial crevasse. I was over the edge of a steep snow wall as the fallen member of a rope team. My co-instructor was at the edge directing the students. As the teams started to haul me out, the rope cut down through the snow, creating a straight line through the snow wall from me to my rescue team. As I watched the line cut in, I tried to free the rope but it wouldn't budge. Not being able to do this meant that instead of being hauled up and out, I was hauled directly into the wall itself, by six people. Despite both my co-instructor and I yelling for the students to stop pulling, my body was bent backwards into a u-ish shape. Our collective yelling finally stopped any forward progress from the group. Once motion had stopped, I tried to free my line which slowly worked but despite a call of zero, our students continued to pull in any slack they felt in the line. Eventually, my co-instructor and I were able to free the rope and I was able to crawl up and over the edge. Standing on the surface of the snow again, I could immediately tell that something wasn't right in my mid-to-lower back.


I stayed in the field for another three days trying to gauge just how "injured" I actually was. On June 8th, we climbed the peak above. The morning of June 9th, we walked six miles to another camp. That same evening, I post-holed into the snow with my left leg and my back completely locked. It was incredibly painful. The morning of June 10th brought no signs of improvement. At noon, I decided this was an injury I could not manage in the field and initiated to process of evacuating myself.


At 8:10 p.m., I hopped into the same helicopter that had brought us our groceries and headed north to Tatla Lake, B.C., population 123. The landscape resembled Wyoming perfectly and a room at the Tatla Lake Manor was a welcome sight for my weary eyes. Here I am after seventy-two hours without sleep. Without those sunglasses on, I'd probably look like "Large Marge" from PeeWee's Big Adventure.

The next morning, I hobbled down to the lone medical center in hopes of anything that would allow my muscles to relax. I was treated by an incredibly nice care provider who didn't seem the least bit phased by my lack of cleanliness. A shot of pain-killer in the hip, a three-day supply of muscle relaxants, and orders to either lay or stand, I returned to my room to mentally prepare for the 11 hour car ride my back would endure the following day.

Which, more or less, brings us to the present. I'd like to think that I'm on the mend, though I still haven't slept through the night and can't seem to sit, stand, or lay comfortably for much longer than 15 minutes. Only time will tell I suppose, that and a whole slew of physical therapy.

Evacuating myself was an incredibly difficult decision. But, for the sake of my own health and how my body is feeling presently, I don't regret it.

As for the Waddington Range... I've merely scratched the surface.

Riley