jimandsharonsbigadventure

Spring delights

Jim and Sharon's Big Adventure — Mon, 20 May 2013 01:58:59 +0000

The frog, buried in the mud at the bottom of the pond, knew that spring was here. The chickadee knew and was delighted (almost everything delights a chickadee).

E.B. White, The Trumpet of the Swan

We were awakened before dawn by a black-capped chickadee with so much to sing about, it was nearly an hour before his repertoire was exhausted. Even the robin who usually sings us awake couldn’t out-sing this little chickadee. And who can blame him; temperatures are in the low 80’s, the sky is blue with bright white powder puff clouds, and it seems that everything had blossomed overnight. Tulips and poppies in their paintbox colors complement the white, pink and purple chokecherry, serviceberry, bearded iris and phlox that brighten yards and parks. Aspen and cottonwood have leafed out and the air even smells green.

Two weeks ago Jim and I did our spring birding bicycle ride along the Platte River trail to the Carson Visitor Center, eighteen miles from our home (thirteen if we take the shortcut). We were so happy to see avocets plying the Platte’s shallows, and the return of Northern shovelers, gadwalls, blue-winged teals and widgeons always delights us. Song sparrows and yellow warblers sang from the willows overhanging the river, and yellow-rumped warblers snapped up insects in midair. Stopping to glass the ponds and lakes along our way, we counted twenty-six species of birds along the way. Since then we’ve seen Northern towhees, mourning doves and a few eastern bluejays.

We live a block from one of Denver’s community gardens and plot renters have been hard at work getting their gardens into shape. Our farmer’s markets are in full swing with early spring harvests like garlic scapes and spinach, among other things. Lately we’ve come to realize how much we like not having to put on long underwear, fleece pullovers, wool socks, boots, hats and gloves in order to go outside…ever! Bare legs, flip flops, short-sleeved shirts and maybe an umbrella are perfect; maybe even year round we’re thinkin’. But then, would we be so delighted with spring if we had no winter?

Bella Bianchi

Jim and Sharon's Big Adventure — Mon, 29 Apr 2013 22:42:54 +0000

“April is the cruelest month”, decreed T.S. Eliot in his poem from The Wasteland. It certainly has been in Denver. Early in the month forsythia’s butter-yellow flowers teased us with the promise of an early spring, crocuses and tulips broke ground with their rainbow of colors, fuzzy catkins appeared on willows and aspen buds burst with their squirrel-tail like strands of seeds. I took off my leggings and put away the mittens, scarves and warm hats. Then it snowed, and snowed again, and snowed again. Temperatures dropped into the 20s and 30s, icy winds blew in from the north and all the valiant efforts of spring flowers were dashed beneath inches of snow. Leggings, mittens, scarves and warm hats reemerged from the closet. The cold weather and slushy conditions were less than safe or ideal for bicycling, so the not being able to get to work by bike wasn’t as inconvenient as it might have been if the weather was nicer.

Finally, my new Bianchi Volpe bike was in and all ready for me to pick up. I put on my boots and walked the nine blocks to Turin Bikes to pick up my new bike and I walked her home through five new inches of snow. Last Friday though, it was clear and warm and blue and beautiful and I took Bella (her name) on her maiden voyage to work. She’s a beauty my new bike! She’s blue in color and has a new Au Natural Rivet saddle, a new trunk with drop down panniers on the rear rack, new lights, new pump and she rides like a dream.

The whole experience of having my bike stolen has been quite interesting. I didn’t know it would make me feel so violated or so untrusting of others. I also didn’t know that I would now be a member of a not-so-exclusive club of those who have had their bicycles stolen. Literally, everyone I’ve spoken to about it said they had had their bike, or bikes, stolen before. The bike shop folks had all suffered this offense as well. At REI I spoke with a bike department employee who said that he hears stories every day from people who are shopping for bikes because their’s was stolen. “It’s a black eye for the City of Denver,” he said, “that so many bicycles are stolen here.” After a month of hearing other people’s stories about stolen bikes, I had to agree with him. I’ve heard there are professional rings of bike thieves who can cut a cable or U-lock and swipe a bike in seconds; that they load them into trucks and take them out of state to resell them. I heard from a policeman that three bikes were stolen in broad daylight as coffee drinkers watched the thieves, all decked out in Lycra bicycling clothes, ride away on them. It seemed perfectly normal for three guys to ride off from a coffee shop on bikes, never mind that they had cut the cables, not lock them.

What would I do, I asked my self, if I saw someone cutting the cable on a locked bicycle? Would I try to stop them? Call the police? Say anything at all? I couldn’t really answer that question since my own safety could be compromised if I attempted to interfere. What do other cities do I wonder. What I’ve decided to do is to stop complaining about the incident and to try and do something about it. Seems to me that since Denver promotes itself as a bicycling community, touting their trails, their safe routes and the ability to take bikes on trains and buses, that Denver should also encourage businesses to provide security of some kind for their employee’s and customer’s bicycles. There are hundreds of bicycle racks in Denver, but even with big, heavy locks, bikes are stolen. I don’t know exactly what that security looks like, but perhaps it should be discussed by Denver employers and business owners. There are also several bicycle groups: racers, commuters, lobbyists, who may want to become involved. As soon as I finish this blog I am going to write to Governor Hickenlooper, Mayor Hickok, People for Bikes, and Bike Denver and ask them to please address this issue. If Denver wants to maintain its reputation as a bicyclist’s nirvana, then it is time for the City to step up and take an active role in making Denver safe for bicyclists and their bikes. Wish me luck!

A Pox Redux

Jim and Sharon's Big Adventure — Fri, 29 Mar 2013 22:21:49 +0000

I received many sympathetic comments from friends and family when I blogged about my bike being stolen. I realized after I received offers of financial assistance in replacing Volpe, that I neglected to mention in my blog that I had insurance on her; it should cover the cost of a new bicycle and all the trimmings. As one of my friends said, it was my lost connection to my bike that overshadowed the loss of the money. We are, of course, happy that we did insure our bikes!

So thank you all for your kind generosity. I feel very blessed. Keep those poxes flowing though….no one should be rewarded for taking something that belongs to anyone else.

A Pox on Thee

Jim and Sharon's Big Adventure — Fri, 29 Mar 2013 13:14:37 +0000

My bicycle was stolen yesterday. My beautiful green Bianchi Volpe that carried me safely across America and for many miles since, was taken from a bike rack in front of the Denver Botanic Gardens. I had her locked up, but the lock was taken as well. What, I wonder, lies in the heart of someone who would just steal something from someone else? I don’t know this person’s story, whether I should be philosophical and believe that either they needed it more than I, perhaps for whatever money they could get selling it, or that they wanted to give it someone they loved to please them. After all, she is a real fox that Volpe – completely outfitted with fenders, a rear rack, expensive lights front and back, a computer, panniers, reversible pedals and a brand new black leather Rivet saddle! Who wouldn’t want her?

Whoever stole my bike doesn’t know my story either. They don’t know that Volpe and I have traveled 10,000 miles together; that I am a senior citizen on a fixed income and my bike was my only means of transportation. I don’t have a car I can fall back on. Sure, I can take public transportation, but to use it every day costs money that compromises my tight budget. Riding my bike has helped me stay healthy and fit; even at my advanced age I know I am in good shape.

What has surprised me about having my bike stolen is how bereft I am. I feel vulnerable and violated and angry. This has really hurt me and has completely upset my life. I rode my bike to my part-time job which helps me pay the rent, to the library, to my writing space, to the grocery store, to the botanic gardens where I volunteer my time each month. I rode by bike to parks and nature centers, along the Platte River and Cherry Creek to watch birds or just for the sheer pleasure of physical exercise.

If this person knew about me, would it have mattered to them? Someone reminded me yesterday that this would be a real chink in the karma of the thief. It didn’t make me feel better. In fact, I wish a pox on whomever stole my bicycle!

Equinox Blessings

Jim and Sharon's Big Adventure — Fri, 22 Mar 2013 22:57:54 +0000

I write this celebration of the Vernal Equinox on my new MacBook Air. Now that Jim is growing his own business as a Bicycle Coach, our sharing the one computer has not been working so well. Besides, I like to carry my computer to coffee shops or to the Lighthouse Writers writing space to work on the book or blog, and the Air is light as a feather. Speaking of feathers, I’ve seen another Eastern blue jay here in the West. My first sighting was on my way to work about a month ago, the second time I heard one but did not see it, and this time we were riding our bikes on a 60-degree day along the Platte River when we heard a blue jay raucously announcing its presence from the still-bare branches of a cottonwood. My research on the distribution of Eastern blue jays indicates that they continue to expand their range westward. Perhaps the milder winters we’ve been experiencing has encouraged their western explorations; maybe combined with loss of habitat in the East? Whatever the reason, I like seeing them here.

Our weather has been unsettled the past month; typical for spring in the Rockies. It’s been incredibly windy – 20 mph out of the north with gusts that have nearly knocked me off of my bike. As I sit here now, a snow storm is moving in with four-to-seven inches of snow predicted. The freezing mornings and errant snow storms have not deterred the aspens, poplars and apple trees from setting new buds on their branches. Crocuses and early daffodils are up, leaves of hyacinths are six inches high and catkins have formed on willows. We live a block from one of Denver’s community gardens, and we expect to see gardeners turning soil any day now.

Robins are now singing up the dawn which brings the greatest joy to my heart. We’ve seen the occasional robin all winter, but they have been silent until now. English sparrows congregate in bunches in the evergreen shrubs and trees singing their pretty, complex song, competing with the warbling call of house finches. Mountain chickadees call chick-a-dee-dee-dee from their hiding places while the black-capped chickadees sing fee-bee, fee-bee from theirs. Cormorants fly high over our apartment building morning and evening now, and we’ve seen many more pairs of red-tailed hawks and kestrels.

I love spring;i t’s so invigorating and full of promise and possibility. It makes me restless though and I yearn to be traveling again – seeking new adventures, new places, new people, new challenges. I read an article by a travel writer who described himself as “always having one foot out the door.” Jim and I both know what that feels like. We are not finished with our bicycling life. This is a necessary, but enjoyable, interlude; a time during which to plan our next retirement phase.

February Doldrums

Jim and Sharon's Big Adventure — Fri, 01 Mar 2013 23:05:31 +0000

I have been diagnosed with Cabin Fever. The symptoms are a pallor to the skin, a lack of creativity, physical lethargy and a general snarkiness of mood. The disease is caused by a lack of sunshine, air temperatures lingering in the 20s and 30s, roads too icy for bicycling and short daylight hours.

There have been some highlights this month that have made February almost bearable and I will write about them here. First, there was Valentine’s Day – my particular favorite. The romantic dinner, the wine, the funny cards we exchanged – all good. Then there is Sailor, my new goldfish, who brings a lively bit of brightness to our north-facing apartment as he swims endless circles in his bowl, blowing soft bubbles at the surface of the water.

An Eastern blue jay, calling and hopping from branch to branch in an aspen tree one morning certainly brightened that day. It is the first time I have ever seen this mostly Eastern species here in Colorado, but results of my research indicate an occasional sighting during migration times. Their wheedle, wheedle call is distinctive and cued me to stop and look for the source of the sound.

Here’s a picture of my lovely bicycle, Volpe, adorned with her beautiful, brand new leather saddle by Rivet Cycle Works. The North American Handmade Bicycle Show was in Denver during the weekend of February 22-24, and Rivet was there. The company is owned by my dear friend, Deb, and I am proud to be able to brag about her bicycle saddles. She has created a comfortable, durable and gorgeous line of saddles, designed to fit a rider’s style of riding and most importantly, their sitz bone span. Go to the website: www.rivetcycleworks.com and read all about Rivet saddles and how to choose the one that fits you best. This went a long way toward alleviating some of the snarkiness I mentioned.

Today is March 1^st and at 5:45 this morning, I noticed a lightening of the sky. There was a bit less ice on the road this morning and the temperatures are forecast to rise into the 40s and 50s, which means I will be able to start breaking in my new bike saddle and get some color back in my cheeks. I feel better already.

February Flickers

Jim and Sharon's Big Adventure — Tue, 05 Feb 2013 22:52:08 +0000

It was a cold ride this morning, my eyes alternately tearing and freezing. The sun was bright in a mostly clear sky, and as long as I didn’t ride too fast, it was fine. Commuting to work in the cold weather has its challenges, especially if you work in an office where you are expected to look somewhat professional. I’m happy that tights have come back into fashion since they are warmer than pants and you can throw your leg over the crossbar without fearing for your modesty. Early in the season I was having trouble with the jacket part of riding. Isis makes a great little hoodie that is smooth on the outside and a little fleecy on the inside. It zips up high under your chin and covers your hips about half way. It has those long sleeves with a thumb hole to keep the draft from running up your arms, and the hood is snug enough to fit under a bike helmet. So far so good, but once the temperatures got into the 40’s, it wasn’t warm enough. I needed something warm, light, long enough to go over my bum but not interfere with pedaling. I found the perfect solution at MontBell in Boulder. For those of you who don’t know, MontBell is a Japanese company that makes outdoor gear and Jim and I have several of their products. They have a featherweight down coat with a hood that comes to six inches above the knee, snaps up the front for easy venting, stuffs into a tiny stuff sack, has pockets and comes in great colors. When I am on my bike saddle, the coat covers my bum and the nylon shell makes it wind resistant. It is amazingly light and warm and if it’s in the high 50’s or 60’s in the afternoon when I ride home, it stuffs elegantly into my pannier and still leaves room for whatever else I may need to carry. With or without my Isis hoodie, I love this piece!

On another note: birds are becoming more vocal as the days lengthen. This morning I heard a descent of flickers (descent is used to describe a group of woodpeckers) rattling raucously from the bare branches of a maple tree. It reminded me of the sounds heard in a jungle – like in old Tarzan movies. One of the flickers drummed repeatedly on the metal shade of a streetlight. Drumming is to flickers what singing is to songbirds. It establishes territories and announces their dominance over other flickers in the area.

The Northern Flicker (Colaptes auratus) is a fairly large member of the woodpecker family, brownish overall with a white rump patch that’s conspicuous in flight and often visible when perched. The undersides of the wing and tail feathers are red, there is a red swoosh near its beak and a black bib beneath it. With a closer look you’ll see the brown plumage is richly patterned with black spots and bars. A long sturdy bill, slightly down curved, is an excellent tool for digging ants from the ground, pecking insects from beneath thick tree bark, hollowing out a hole in a tree for a nest site, and of course, for hammering on anything that makes the most noise. Chickadee, dee, dees sounded in the distance, but I couldn’t tell if it was the mountain chickadee or the black-capped chickadee, and I spotted the red backs of two house finches. Since my office moved to a new location to the south, my commute is no longer on the Cherry Creek bike path but is through residential neighborhoods. I will miss my daily rides on the creek, but who knows what birds I will see in the maple, oak, cherry, apple, aspen, cottonwood, locust and catalpa trees that line the streets of Denver.

Hanky-panky on the Creek

Jim and Sharon's Big Adventure — Mon, 10 Dec 2012 22:37:03 +0000

Oasis in the city

Greetings from crispy dry, not-so-wintery Denver. It is cold, but the sun shines brightly in the blue, blue sky. The three inches of snow promised for the weekend turned into a disappointing skiff of wet snow. No amount of snow dancing has brought the white stuff to the ski areas either. While we know that temperatures in the 60s and 70s in December in Colorado are not good, it is hard to deny the pleasure of it. I still commute to work on my bike and Jim and I have enjoyed long bike rides together on weekends. In fact, Jim packed us his bike two weeks ago and camped at Cherry Creek State Park for a couple of nights.

Last weekend our ride along the South Platte through Denver rewarded us with lots and lots of ducks: Northern pintails, hooded mergansers, common mergansers, widgeons, coots, Northern shovelers, Barrow’s goldeneyes,and of course, mallards. Male mallards, their heads glistening, were “getting low” circling around females. They stretch their necks out flat on the surface of the water, spread their bodies flat, and swim circles around females trying to interest them in a some hanky-panky (Jim’s words).

A stop at Centennial Lake graced us with pied-billed and Western grebes, thousands of Canada geese, California gulls and some terns we didn’t feel confident identifying. The lake lies between mega-industrial facilities to the east and a school to the west. An oxbox of the Platte River bends to the north of the lake and is crowded with cottonwoods, willows, shrubs and grasses, making for good bird habitat. We’ll be sure and stop there next year when spring migrants arrive.

We are always happy to hear the rattle of belted kingfishers along the creeks as they defend territories or display their beauty to potential mates. We watched one male for several minutes as he repeated his flying feather display for a mildly interested female perched on a cottonwood limb. Red-tailed hawks still circle the grasslands, golf courses and prairie dog towns that lie next to the bike trail. Crows are more common here than are ravens, and flocks of them smudge the bare trees. Starlings and English sparrows are ever present, but mountain chickadees hold their own among these invaders and we hear their cheery call while walking or biking.

Denver is blessed with many natural areas making it a lively, livable city.

We can see them from here!

Jim and Sharon's Big Adventure — Fri, 02 Nov 2012 01:52:11 +0000

I volunteer at a Denver nonprofit a couple of times a month. It’s a two-bus ride to the facility, but it is not unusual for me to walk the last mile instead of taking the second bus. My walk starts at a busy shopping district and commences up hill through neighborhoods that change from small brick homes, nestled close together on narrow lots, to large, multistory Tudor- and Colonial-style mansions on carefully landscaped estates. As I walk through the working class neighborhood to, and through the neighborhood of estates, I am struck by the clearly drawn political differences. At the bottom of the hill, Obama/Biden signs dominate the front lawns with a very few Romney/Ryan signs. By mid-hill, a not-very-subtle change occurs and the grounds of the estates are strewn with Romney/Ryan signs. Only a couple of Obama/Biden signs are in evidence. The folks at the top of the hill must need those Romney/Ryan tax breaks to afford those estates. Perhaps a Republican campaign slogan could be: “We can see the working class from up here. They are our neighbors.”

In spite of the above comment, the political bandwagon we are on has to do with bicycling. Please check out the Web site: http://www.peopleforbikes.org. They work hard to lobby for safe, efficient and enjoyable bicycling for everyone.

Be sure to vote next Tuesday!

A Murder of Crows and a Family of Beavers

Jim and Sharon's Big Adventure — Wed, 24 Oct 2012 22:56:18 +0000

Migratory songbirds have left the area but the bald eagle that flew by our window the other day was a real treat to see. I was waiting for a bus recently and noticed a downy woodpecker, all black and white with a little red cap on her head, circling round the trunk of an aspen tree. Woodpeckers always make me smile because their plumage is so striking and they work a tree trunk so diligently. Jim rode to Cherry Creek Reservoir and came back with stories and photographs of a murder of 200 American crows he saw congregated in the trees and in the water of the creek. He also spotted a golden eagle flying over the prairie dog town along the bike path.

As I’ve been riding to work, belted kingfishers have squawked their presence from trees overhanging the creek and pine siskins, with their buzzy call, are gleaning any remaining seeds from frost-bitten flower heads. There is no scarcity of red-tailed hawks or Northern flickers around town. Jim and I both see and hear them in our travels. A few mallards still paddle Cherry Creek although it is quite shallow now.

The most activity along Cherry Creek right now is by the resident beavers. They are building and repairing their dams and lodges, harvesting the willows, aspens and cottonwoods within dragging distance of the creek. Since they mostly work the night shift, we haven’t seen them, but the bright pointed tree stumps and piles of freshly cut tree branches gave them away.

Every day there are fewer leaves on the trees and more leaves on the ground. Soon it will be easier to spot the birds that don’t migrate, and we’ll begin to learn which species are year-round urban residents. Snow is predicted for the next few days in Denver – that should take care of the leaves that haven’t yet fallen.

Stay warm.