Incision Indecision

Just recently I found myself laying on my back in a hospital bed; knocked out by a general anesthetic and feeling completely helpless.  The farthest thing on my mind was riding my bike.  Driving along the same route I bicycle commute to work, I just could not imagine how I could ride that distance almost every day.  Coupled with the fact that my departure from the house is usually before six o'clock in the morning.

Yet last night working in the garage, a little visual tableau helped me to consider the task.  Maybe it was seeing all my bikes hanging up in the garage.  There are 15 bikes in there.  11 of them mine.  The rest belong to my daughter, her boyfriend and my son. There are 2 more behind the woodshed, one against the outside garage wall and one more at work.

Perhaps the little nudge I felt was my body telling me that I'm healing and it will soon be time to climb back into the saddle and ride.  As an experiment, I ventured across the High Level Bridge to attend a meeting at the university.  Thick pea gravel from the melted snow and ice littered the riding surface making my first ride since the surgery rather dicey.

Now that spring is officially here, I 've seen way more cyclists on the road and now that I have survived a practice ride, I'll be joining them again soon.

Wintry Ride to Work Day

This Friday's commute will have a slight twist to it.  Instead of riding past 104 Street on my way to work, I'll hang a right and pedal the short distance to the Earth's General Store where I can get free coffee and blueberry pancakes just for riding my bike.

 The list of cyclists on Facebook who say they will attend are almost all year 'round cyclists.  One is a courier and three are cycling activists.  Another has a Bicycle Traffic Report on a campus radio station.  The owner and host of the breakfast moved his entire store 13 blocks to a new location using only bicycle transportation!

Michael of E.G.S.

I'm supposed to be at work by 8 am which is the same time that City Councillor Scott McKeen is scheduled to read a proclamation to all those assembled.  I figure if I bring a DLSR to the breakfast, I might be able to film some of the event and thereby have my (pan) cake and eat it too!

Monkeying Around

During the break between Christmas and New Years there was a great opportunity to ride my bike several miles to the library.  Outside it was good and dark and I looked forward to riding with the new Monkey lights installed the front wheel of my winter bike.

As soon as I pedaled off, the bright glow from the Monkey Lights cast ever-changing coloured patterns on the white snowbanks and the snow covered road in front of me.  Combined with the Christmas lights decorating the houses along my route, It felt downright festive!

About half way to my destination, I could see up ahead of me a mother and her two children.  The mother took one glance at me and stopped dead in her tracks to have the children watch my multi-hued display as I passed them.  I was beaming.

After the library, I rode out from my parking spot and cut through the parking lot.  A few yards in front of me was a couple on their way to their car.  They stopped in mid step to watch as I passed them.  Having passed them, they shouted "Do it again!" so I dutifully turned around and rode back and forth in front of them to their great delight "Nice Christmas lights!" the man shouted.

The only danger I can foresee with having Monkey Lights on my bike is keeping my eyes on the road in front of me instead of looking down at the entrancing light display emanating from my front wheel.

Monkeying Around4

It's funny how the mind works sometimes.  An idea can get planted in your head and in spite of evidence to the contrary, there is no shaking it.  Take for example my many fruitless searches of my basement for a set of Monkey Lights that I had purchased from our local community bike shop.

My investigation of the basement took me to corners and shelving units that I hadn't visited for some time.  There were lots of boxes half full of papers.  A can of old casters.  Milk crates of old vinyl that had never seen a turntable.  Children's books.  Two boxes of greeting cards that my wife intends to do something with in the future.

When I've looked in all the places where I think the missing item might be, I then begin to search all the places where I think it won't be and usually it is on that search that I'm successful.  This time, I only had to lift a box of disposable gloves from near my bicycle work bench to find that the Monkey Lights had been stored all along right where they should have been.

My mind was so fixated on the package looking a certain way that I must have looked at it many times while working on bikes and not seen it.  Sort of not seeing the forest for the trees.

The installation of the lights onto the spokes of my front wheel was simple and took at the most twenty minutes.  Half of that time was spent running back into the house to get tools I had forgotten to bring outside with me.

My wife was already in her pajamas and the only way to get her to come outside to watch my new lights was to tell her in an excited voice that she needed to come outside to see the beautiful colours.  I knew that she would think that I was talking about the Northern Lights of which she is very enamored.

She was surprised but not disappointed when, clutching her housecoat tightly about herself she ooed and awed watching me zoom past first in one direction and then another on the street in front of our house.

A Bike in the Woods

It was a novelty finding myself in a strange city one summer morning.  All around me are what my friend Roy tells me are Ponderosa Pines.  A tree that I thought only grew in California and yet here I am surrounded by them.

Roy, my long term friend and I are in the parking lot of an apartment building not far from downtown Penticton, British Columbia.  Since we plan on riding our bikes for the next seven days, Roy has gone up to speak to an elderly acquaintance and make arrangements for leaving his vehicle in her unused parking stall.

I spend my time with my bike leaning against a chainlink fence surrounding the parking lot.  This is my very first attempt at bicycle camping and I have no idea how to attach, stuff, cram, squeeze, compress into two saddlebags the pile of equipment I've brought along with me.

For years, Roy has been telling me stories about the fun he has had riding his bike in the Okanagan Valley and finally I've agreed to join him.  I have experience.  Camping has always been an important part of most holidays I've taken and as for cycling - I commute to and from my place of work.

It isn't until we start riding the rolling streets of Penticton that I immediately realize what poor shape I'm in - either that or my friend cycles at a much faster speed than I'm used to.  Plus I hadn't taken into account just how difficult it is to maneuver in traffic a bike that now weighs 50 pounds more than what I'm used to riding.  I begin to wonder if I have made some sort of mistake thinking I could bicycle camp as I watch Roy disappear from view and now have to push even harder to be able to follow him in this unfamiliar city.

50,000 Words In One Month

During the month of November I could be found in any number of places, hunched over my keyboard, tongue poking out the corner of my mouth and soft tappity sounds emanating from my tiny keyboard.

The first chance I got to write, I went out of my way to Mandolin Books in an older area of town.  I had done a lot of writing there during National Novel Writing Month last year and knew it was a great place to write.  Way in the back, surrounded by nonfiction books is an old nineteen fifties kitchen table - the kind with the chrome trim around the table top and shiny tube legs that all meet in the center underneath.

To the left of the table is a bank of windows where plenty of diffused morning light warms your work area.  Whenever you need a break, it's just a matter of standing up, stretching and reaching for one of the used books on a nearby shelf.  Looking for inspiration or simply diversion?  Behind where I sit are two shelves of travel books and I enjoy spending a few minutes every hour idly leafing through them.

The front of the establishment is busy with locals meeting over coffee and tea or quietly reading the paper while the street out front is clogged with commuters on their way downtown.  Going up front for a refill, I never have to worry about my personal items since I'm the only one in the back.  I can leave my IPAD and keyboard just where they are and quickly get back to typing with a hot ceramic mug of java beside me.

It should come as no surprise that I'm writing about a subject I'm very familiar with: the Kettle Valley Railway.  I thank my friend Roy for introducing me to this this abandoned railway and I've had ten years and twelve trips of memories to write about.

NANOWRIMO 2014

We are already at the 5th day of November which means I'm currently involved in National Novel Writing Month.  In the month of November, a large group of writers will be found in unusual places working away on their keyboards.  Although some will be writing by hand.

If you don't hear much from me this month, look for me at a coffee shop early in the morning.  I'll be the guy in the corner hunched over my IPAD, quaffing large quantities of coffee.