The Difference of An Odd Number

My friend Dave originally moved to Seattle because he was a serous mountain climber; later he became a bicyclist: first a racer, then a tourist and advocate.  I met him through bicycling, we ride together frequently.  Recently, after many years without climbing, he's been training hard for a major climb out of state.  When he invited me to join him and his wife Julie on a climb to Camp Muir i was extremely excited.

I'm pretty well traveled and i have covered a lot of the northwest.  Camp Muir is probably the most prominent location in the region that i've never been to.  Tahoma, Mount Rainier, looms over western Washington like a friend, or a benevolent parent.  At 14,410 feet, it is visible almost everywhere, views popping up around every corner; the surrounding mountains are 5,000 to 7,000 so it is head and shoulders above everything else. It is such an important part of the daily fabric of our lives here that most people just call it The Mountain.  Capitol T, Capitol M.  Most of the time we only see it from a great distance, 100 miles or more away.  The idea of spending a day on The Mountain, on snow, at elevation, was appealing.

I really liked the idea of undertaking this epic climb with my friends, but i was also worried.  I was certain i couldn't keep up with Dave.  He's been training seriously and is very fit.  I bicycle a lot, but actually i'm fat, old and out of shape.  (Since Dave & Julie are both older than me i guess i can't claim the old). In addition, Camp Muir is at 10,000 feet.  I've never hiked that high; and the last couple of times i've been up to 6,500 feet (Nadine's camp at Blewitt Pass) i've gotten a little altitude sickness.

I'm more of a hiker than a climber.  I enjoy experiencing the forest and the mountains immensely, but i have no need to bag peaks.  Hiking in the wilderness is the reason i decided to stay in Seattle 20 years ago and for ten years or so hiking was a regular, important, part of my life.  But sadly i have only been hiking once or twice a year for the last few years, and none of them were strenuous.  So this was something i was looking forward to.

On a Saturday at the very end of July, we started the day with a short, early morning hike through the city to the Zip Car followed by a long, frustrating, drive to the mountain.  It was cloudy and drizzly as we wove through the lightly populated foothills.  Every time i go down there i think about how wonderful it would be to have a train system.  Riding the train to Mount Rainier National Park would be the ideal way to go -- comfortable, relaxing, beautiful and available to all.

During the long drive, i  started to really worry that I didn't have enough clothing.  That was mostly because i don't hike frequently anymore. In the 1990s i kept a backpack ready to go, packed with all i would need for an overnight hike, so i could just grab it and go.  I couldn't forget anything, it was already packed!  Packing this time took some effort, collecting things from the hiking boxes and  bicycling clothing -- i wasn't extremely confident.

I wore a base layer, a wool shirt, hiking shorts and mountaineering boots with gators.  I also carried a heavy poly turtleneck, fleece vest, wool jacket, wool sweater, waterproof anorak, gloves, wool hat and rain paints.  I could've used another pants layer for emergencies: it can get very cold very quickly in at elevation.  In the end was just fine, but i spent some time stressing.  I like to pack for an uncomfortable unexpected overnight and i wasn't prepared for that; but i was well set for this hike, even if the weather turned. 

I wanted to take my smaller pack, i have two good day packs, a small one and a very large one.  The small one almost worked, but i couldn't figure a way to lash my ice axe to it, so i went with the big one.

As we approached The Mountain and began to gain elevation we drove out from under the clouds; when we entered the National Park at Ashford the bright morning sun was shining through the giant cedar trees, the thick, dark temperate rainforest cut with rays of bright sunshine occasionally reaching down to the ferns and salal.  It's really beautiful. We drove through the forest, along the raging Nisqually river, and then started going steeply up the mountain, higher and higher, eventually to 6,000 feet.

Although quite familiar, the view of Tahoma is so astonishing it's almost shocking.  We came out of the forest and suddenly realized we were working our way up the shoulder of a three mile high volcano!  All i can do when it comes into view is utter that powerful Salish native name:  Tahoma!

We parked at Paradise, the primary visitor's center for Mount Rainier National Park. It is a staggeringly gorgeous place. There aren't many places like that anywhere, but there are certainly none that you can drive to. Most require a multi-day hike. The air is thin and the tundra is gorgeous, filled with wildflowers in the short summer, and 10s of feet of snow in the winter. There are astonishing views of the mountain range all around, and, oh yeah, a giant volcano covered with 23 glaciers looms overhead!

Joe Tamura and i at Inspiration Point in Mount Rainier National Park 7-26-2012

I don't have a photo from Paradise that day, but i had just been to The Mountain on Thursday as a HAM radio operator on a bicycle event.  So here's a photo from two days previous of me with the bike mechanic i was working with. It was taken at Inspiration Point about 1,000 feet below Paradise.  The lenticular cloud, which is so characteristic of Tahoma, was not there the day of our climb.

It's hard to comprehend just how popular Paradise is.  I once saw a statistic that said that 2/3 of visitors to Mount Rainier National Park don't get more than 100 feet from their car and more than 1/3 never even step out of their car! 

At 8am on this sunny summer Saturday the parking lot at Paradise was already teeming with thousands of people, and most of the Seattle people had not yet arrived.  They come from Tacoma, from Seattle, and from other parts of the country and all around the world. We heard a half a dozen or more different languages.

The majority were probably just peeking into the visitor's center or taking a 20 minute walk. But many were there for a serious hike and a lot were hoping to summit the mountain. Reaching the summit is a multi-day undertaking and the place where most of those climbers spend the night is Camp Muir.  That's where we hoped to reach today.


We didn't waste any time.  We ate a little as we pulled our boots on, then quickly got our packs settled and walked off, heading up steeply.  Julie and i were going to be slower than Dave, but he was carrying more weight.  He told us he was carrying several gallons of water make his pack heavier for training.

The trail as it leaves Paradise is actually asphalt for the first half mile or so, before it turns to dirt.  It's a little odd walking (in hiking boots) on asphalt as you cross through the tundra, but it, and the rope barriers along the trail, are essential for the preservation of that glorious but fragile area, considering the astonishing amount of foot traffic that it gets.  There is an old climbers aphorism that Dave shared with us that says that the number of people on the trail decreases with the square of the distance and the cube of the elevation.  Lots of people at first, very quickly the least fit turn back, soon almost everyone does.  The thing i've noticed in the past is the litter.  The closer you are to a trail head, the more candy wrappers you see.  When you are REALLY close you see cigarette butts. 

I felt the low oxygen immediately.  I had a pack and big boots, so i was working harder than in the city, and the elevation gain was very significant.  But the oxygen level at Paradise is about 75% or 80% of sea level and with every step the air was getting thinner.  Luckily i didn't  get any of the symptoms of altitude sickness that i was worried about.

Very quickly, before we even got off the asphalt, we all stopped to take off our jackets.  A few minutes later i changed into my wool shirt and didn't really change any layers for the rest of the day.  We didn't put on sun screen in the parking lot, but we all did at that first stop just a short way up the trail. The sunscreen, hat and sunglasses were essential for this hike.  Of course it is required on the snow, it's dangerous without, but even those first couple of hours the sun was very intense.

Just below Panorama Ridge we saw a marmot. No surprise that it blended in well with the tundra. I wouldn't have noticed if Julie didn't point it out. It was very cute when it looked up at us. I think it was smaller than the one i saw in the Olympics with my brother. (The Olympic Marmot is Washington State's official endemic mammal!) I like marmots.

As usual, click on any photo to see it full size.

A Marmot on the tundra at Mt Rainier

The Marmot looks at the camera

Paul staring down a Marmot above Heart Lake in the Olympic Mountains, August 1995.

The first 3 miles, climbing 1,900 feet, was on dirt trails along sharp ridgelines through gorgeous tundra: thick heather sprinkled with colorful wild flowers. We tried to identify the different wild flowers, and occasionally asked other hikers for flower names. We were gaining elevation so fast, every few minutes we would encounter a different set of flowers, later bloomers. Over the course of the three hours up to the snow field we probably went through 4 or more entirely different levels of flower species. It was cool.

The dirt trails are fairly narrow (and so are the paths through the snowfield). We occasionally had to step aside while people passed us going up, or we passed people. We also had to make way for people going down. Before the snowfield the only people coming down were people who had attempted the summit overnight and not made it. One group told us that they turned around before the summit because they had a problem with altitude sickness.

Panorama Ridge

It is a truly special place to be and i felt honored to be there.  You stand in this wide open space with sky on one side of you and the cone of Tahoma on the other.  It's hard to believe you are really there.  There is a spiritual strength that comes from being in a place like that.

Step by step we climbed higher and higher.  Occasionally we would hear a strong low rumble which could've been confused with thunder.  It fired off alarm bells for me from my days hiking these mountains.  I was sure it was an avalanche.  The first couple of times it happened i stopped to survey the slopes above us and to the sides, but i didn't see any evidence.  After the third big rumble Dave pointed out that it was probably the giant Nisqually Glacier moving; groaning, breaking and scraping as it very, very slowly slides downhill!   

Mt Rainier, Julie, Dave at Glacier Vista

The glacier was laid out in front of us, up and to our left.  It was a majestic sight

The Mountain is amazing -- so big, so close, it really feels like you can touch it.  I stared at it and i felt certain i could just scamper up to the summit.  It looked like it would take about 15 minutes.  It's deceiving because Tahoma is just so astonishingly big.  At that point it was still almost three MILES away and more than 7,000 feet above us but it didn't feel like it.  It felt close.

Near the end of the Pebble Creek trail, just below the start of the Muir Snowfield we saw another marmot, and this one was glissading!  While we were walking by a patch of snow on the steep ridge, the marmot walked off the rocks, onto the snow, and belly flopped down on to the snow, and then spread it's legs.  I suspect it was just cooling off in the intense sun, but it looked like it was trying to have fun sliding down the slope!

Marmot bellyflop

trying to glissade?

All photos enlarge.  Click on these photos to see the marmot better.

We were all feeling pretty good when we got to the snowfield at 7,300 feet  I pulled out my ice axe and started up the steps that had been kicked by many people ahead of us. We followed the boot tracks.

The sun was hot and the snow was pretty soft, not terribly slippery.  The trail was marked by occasional orange flags.  Visibility was excellent today, but if weather closed in, and it can do so fast on this mountain, those flags would be our only guide. We took tiny steps.  I had been doing a little pressure breathing before the snowfield, but now I started in earnest.  This is a mountaineering practice where you exhale strongly, emptying your lungs, which then forces a big lungful of fresh air into your lungs.  It really works.  You could hear people around you doing it.

We were not alone, and i'm not talking about the marmots. We were told at Paradise that Camp Muir averages 900 people a day, and even more in July -- that's easy to believe with what we saw on this warm weekend.  There were surely many more than that on the trail we took up the snowfield, and below the snow line two easier trails split off: The Skyline Trail and The Panorama Ridge trail.  Each of those trails had at least as many people on them.  There were lots of people coming up, some poorly prepared in jeans and tennis shoes others with major expedition packs ready for an overnight and an attempt at the summit tomorrow or the next day.  Some were in teams, some alone, some going at their own pace, others with a group leader urging them on.  People were very supportive of each other, offering encouragement and conversation.  I don't know how to say this appropriately, but I was blown away by how many extremely good looking women were on the mountain.

While we never felt overwhelmed by people, there were always many people around us and looking down, or up, we could see a lot of people climbing the snowfield.  At times it almost looked like we were heading up the Chilikoot Trail, like in the legendary historic photo.

Chilikoot trail photo from late 1890s taken from Wikipedia

We were taking it seriously, it's a difficult, potentially dangerous hike. Backpacker Magazine called it one of the 10 most dangerous because of it's accessibility, difficulty and extreme, sudden weather.  A week after our hike, a body was pulled out of the snowfield right around where we got up onto it.  The climber had been caught in a storm in January.

I was going pretty slowly.  It was very hard.  Most of the Muir snowfield is a 30% grade, with some areas reaching 40%.  The climb itself was hard, but the low oxygen was a huge challenge.  Although i felt a little bad about holding him back, Dave stayed with me until just before lunch when he wanted to get in a bit of a sprint to test his fitness.  We picked a rock outcropping where we would eat and he sped ahead, with me and Julie plodding along slow and steady behind.  I appreciated Julie's support.  It's so much easier (and more fun) to hike with someone else, and in that hour before lunch i was really starting to struggle.  I started to wonder if i was going to make it all the way.

We stopped on the rocks for lunch; this was at about 8,200 feet elevation.  It was a welcome rest.  We'd been on the trail about 4 hours at that point.  I wolfed down my sandwich and shared my cookies with Dave and Julie as well as the people around us, one of who took our photo.  I was trying to conserve water enough to make it last the day, but i drained one bottle at lunch. 

Lunch at 8,200 feet.

It was very warm, none of us needed a jacket during the break.  Before we set out again we did all make an effort to put on more sunscreen.  I hate the stuff and try to avoid using it as much as i can, but there was no way around it today.  I tried to make sure i got full coverage including places i wouldn't normally think of: back of neck, under my chin, legs, backs of knees.  There were more than a few people on the mountain who had their whole head wrapped in a turban leaving only glasses and mouth visible.  I think that was a good idea! 

Lunch felt too short even at 35 minutes.  I was tired and wanted more rest, but mostly I wanted to catch my breath and at that elevation I just couldn't do that.  I did give Dave some weight from my pack, some food and clothing, to help his training.  (Actually to lighten my load!  I really appreciated it.)

When we set off again Dave and Julie got well ahead of me and for 15 minutes or so i was going it alone.  Most of the day we stayed together but at this point i was struggling.  Before lunch i had been taking a lot of short (3 minute) breaks so afterwards i started trying to rest for 3 or 4 seconds every 8 or 10 steps, just trying to keep a steady pace.

However, quite soon after lunch I started to reach my limit.  I became more and more certain that I wasn't going to make it all the way.  I was ok with that.  I could see another rock outcropping ahead.  After that it appeared to be a right turn and a long slog up and over the ridge.  Several people had said that once over that ridge you could see Camp Muir but it was an hour away.  I decided that I would stop at the outcropping ahead and wouldn’t continue beyond, that...  I just didn't have it in me. 

I couldn't believe how weak the low oxygen made me. I really needed a break,  Dave and Julie waited for me, which i was very grateful for, but once we were moving together again i did feel like i was holding them back.  Julie insisted my pace was the pace she wanted to go, and Dave was just testing his fitness so he didn't feel a need to go faster.  I was just pushing on.  It was one of the hardest things i've ever done in my life. 

By this time i was really focusing on 6 steps and rest.  Six steps, breathe on each step.  Six steps then 4 seconds rest, six steps, rest.  I was pretty thrilled to make that rock outcrop i that had seen so far away;  i figured this might be my end point.  The view was astonishing from that elevation.  Mount Adams was well above the clouds and a lot of the sawtooth peaks of the Tattosh range were visible far below us.  We rested on the rocks, ate cookies and they convinced me to continue.

Dave went out ahead a little, and Julie and i continued, 6 steps and rest, 6 steps and rest.  But i was really getting exhausted.  About 15 minutes after our break my legs actually gave out.  They involuntarily crumpled and i just fell down on the snow.  I didn't slide much, but i collapsed.  I rested a bit and I was very pleased that Julie waited with me.  I wanted badly to make it to Camp Muir, and i didn't care about being slow.  But i just didn't think i could do it.

Julie really encouraged me.  She got me to continue.  When I started walking again, i decided to do five steps instead of six.  This made a huge difference!  Breathe on each step, five steps then rest for 5 seconds; five more steps, pressure breathing, rest.  As i got into this pattern, i thought of something my amazing NOLS instructor Glenn Goodrich had taught me in Alaska in 1992:  i started locking my knee on that short rest every fifth step. 

That made all the difference in the world.  Within 10 minutes I was feeling stronger and not needing to take the regular 3 minute breaks.  I was on a steep slope.  Each 5 second rest was with my weight on my downhill leg.  The odd number of steps meant that I was resting on a different leg each time so each leg got rested equally.  With an even number of steps, i was always standing on the same leg!  Locking my knee shifted my weight to my skeleton and off my muscles.  Even just a few seconds taking the weight off gave my muscles, and lungs, an important rest.  I kept saying "Thank You Glen Goodrich!" out loud.  I didn't have the breath to explain it to Julie until later.

Julie takes in the majesty of Tahoma

Five steps.  Rest.  Five steps.  Rest.  It was hard work, but i was much more comfortable.  Julie kept up the same pace, I held her back a little, but mostly we kept the same pace. And although I didn't pass many people and a lot of people passed me, I have to say that an awfully lot of people were going about the same pace as me and some turned back.  Dave was chomping at the bit and got ahead of us a couple times but mostly we all stayed together.

We didn't ever make that right turn that we were all expecting, and that worried me because i knew it was still an hour, or more, past that right turn.  As we ascended further a small black building came in to view.  It didn't look like what i thought Camp Muir would look like and Dave said it didn't look at all like he remembered it from his summit ascent years ago.  I asked Dave if there was a chemical toilet on that ridge like there is on Panorama Ridge.  He said he didn't remember it, but it was possible.  We discussed it a little, with what little breath we had, but we all assumed it was a new toilet on the ridge we had to go over. 

That meant Camp Muir was at least a hour more from when we finally reached that distant point.  I was walking easier, but i also knew there was no way i was going to make it past that ridge and no convincing was going to change that.  It would be great to get to Camp Muir, but that ridge was my end point, if i even made that.  I'd wait there for them while they covered the last hour or so.  We pushed on, the three of us together, resting for about 5 seconds every 5 or 7 steps, sometimes even 11, but always odd numbers.  By this point the oxygen was only 67% of what it is at sea level.  I have small lungs. 

For over an hour we slowly approached the black structure, all continuing to discount any idea that it could be our destination.  As we got to within a few hundred yards we saw some tents out on the snow.  This suggested that this might actually be Camp Muir, but even then I didn't get my hopes up.  Dave went ahead to check it out for us, and he quickly left us behind.

Julie and i continued, probably another half an hour of 5-steps-and-rest.  When I was about 50 yards away i realized that i really had made it to Camp Muir!  I was thrilled.  I thought for a second about just sprinting on in.  That did not work.  Five steps, and rest, the whole way in.  We had ascended 4,700 feet, almost 3,000 on snow.  It was 3 pm, so it had taken about 7 hours.  I was very happy to be there.

I made it to Camp Muir!

Dave came down to meet us and we walked up on to the rocky ridgeline that is Camp Muir.  It's not as protected as i expected.  A high rock formation on the south (my right) and the upslope on the north, but really just a ridge. You are really in climbers territory here.  Rope teams are required beyond camp and even within camp on the other side of the ridge.

You must rope up beyond Camp Muir.

There are two low stone buildings that i wish i had had the presence of mind to take a photo of; they are very pretty, . One is a partially enclosed public shelter that can sleep about 2 dozen people, the other is a storage unit for a mountaineering guide service.  The black thing we'd been seeing is an ugly black shipping container used for storage and scientific instruments.  They are hoping to replace it.  A compact 'A' frame is a private shelter.  There are also a handful of toilets.  Everything is helicoptered in or out, including the waste from the toilets.  In the deep snowfield on the other side of the ridge were lots and lots of tents, many almost completely buried by drifting snow. There were 2 or 3 hundred people at Camp Muir: resting, setting up camp, practicing rope teams, sleeping.

I was proud of my accomplishment.  I was really thrilled to be there, it was a new place for me and true northwest credibility!   Despite the difficulty, i really enjoyed the climb.  And the view is unparalleled.

Julie at Camp Muir with Mount Adams and the Tattosh Range

Once we were up on the ridge at Camp Muir, Dave pulled out a watermelon!  He had carried a watermelon all the way up the mountain.  It was a small one, but still, what a great thing to do!!  I think his climb in Wyoming will go fine, he's fit!  He cut it open and we sat at 10,200 feet eating watermelon taking in the view!  It was amazing. 

Dave carried a watermelon to 10,200 feet!

Mark, Dave & Julie eating watermelon at Camp Muir!

We spent about an hour relaxing on the ridge and taking in the view.  We were quite comfortable up there in our long sleeve hiking shirts.  If i had to guess the temperature i would've said about 75.  None of us put on jackets.  When i got home i checked the data from the Camp Muir weather station and it was 43 degrees between 3 and 4pm.  The sun was just so intense, the radiated heat made it feel much warmer.  We were lucky the infamous wind did not kick up.  It not only would've made hiking harder, but it would've gotten very cold very fast.

Mount Adams and the Tattosh Range from Camp Muir.

I would've loved to stay there, and it would be great fun to sleep there, but we had a major descent to make and i was already near complete exhaustion. We made sure to put more sunscreen on.  Julie considered not and i encouraged her to do so.  The thin air, intense sun and reflection off the snow will just burn you up.

After climbing 3,000 feet up a snowfield, you kind of want to glissade down -- slide on your butt.  You feel like you've earned it.  And it gets you down really fast.  That was a big reason why I brought the rain paints.  I put them on and as soon as i was back on the snow, i sat down.  I didn't move at all.  I had my ice axe in self arrest position, which also works as a rudder, but i wasn't sliding.

When you think about it, there is a formula that you could calculate for glissading.  The slope steepness has to exceed the snow stickiness.  It didn't.  I started trying to push myself with the ice axe, but it was like rowing a boat.  Pushing myself through the snow was much more tiring than just walking, and i was already whipped.  I gave up quickly and stood up.  Julie did too.  Dave didn't try to glissade because he wanted to walk the full distance for his test of climbing fitness. An alternative to glissading is plunge steps:  leaning down slope and driving your heal into the soft snow creating a stride much longer, perhaps 2 or three times as long as a normal stride. I started plunge stepping down from Camp Muir.

The slope was so steep in places that it looked like a cliff.  Dave, ahead of us, appeared to be standing on the precipice, but was actually just walking downhill.

Dave descends the Muir snowfield

Mostly we plunge stepped, but Julie and i kept trying and trying to glissade.  I probably tried about ten or eleven times.  Part of the problem was that the snowfield was wide and there were dozens of trails where people had glissaded, or tried to.  If everyone had slid down the same trail it would've made a fast, deep, icy track like a bobsled run.  But they didn't.  However, three or four times, mostly down low where the snow field gets narrow (and lots of people used the same tracks) i got some good, fast, long glissades.  Still not like the screaming descents i'm familiar with from Mount Ellinor, but a big help covering the distance down the snowfield.  And lots of fun!

Dave stayed ahead of us, making faster progress for the first half of the snowfield, but we passed him, sliding fast, on the lower part.  Towards the bottom of the snowfield, visibility started to become a concern.  The sun was still really intense, but the cloud layer below, that we had driven out of hours ago, was rising and could potentially rise enough to overwhelm us.  That meant that keeping aware of the boot tracks, but especially the (rather sparse) trail blaze flagging became very important.  Also, since my GPS had recorded our climb up the snowfield, we would've been able to use it to follow the same path down should visibility drop to zero, but you never want to depend on a GPS unit, especially at that kind of elevation.

The bottom of the snowfield.

The clouds reached us right as we got to the bottom of the snowfield, we were pretty socked in for the rest of the descent.   There were even more people on the trail, mostly coming up, in the afternoon.  And all of them were unprepared for hiking.  Despite looking bedraggled and completely exhausted, or maybe because of it, we got stopped and asked for directions or advice half a dozen times, which we were happy to help with.  Of course the mountain was not visible at that point so when these tourists asked, we pointed to where it would've been seen if the clouds were not there. I love the clouds, but i did feel bad for the tourists. I can't imagine having to imagine that mountain.  It far exceeds anything the imagination can create.

The square of the distance and cube of the elevation.  We could tell how close to the parking lot we were getting as the crowds grew larger, and the shoes got worse.  Pretty soon we could see candy wrappers, and then, even cigarettes.  Now we KNEW we were close! 

The last mile, down a steep hill on asphalt trail, took a lot of motivation. I was really, really ready to be done.  I just pictured a short walk in my neighborhood, a mile to the ice cream shop, and followed it block by block in my head.

We were happy to get down into the crowd at the parking lot at Paradise, almost exactly 11 hours after leaving.  We refilled water bottles, (the soft ones were crushed as if by a giant hand!). We threw away the garbage we had collected on the hike -- and i even turned in a shoe and a couple of other things to the Rangers for a potential lost and found.

Dave didn't have much sunburn, but Julie's face was very burned.  I was mostly in good shape, but there were are a few places i missed.  I missed the sides of my knees, and got a little sunburn there.  I missed the backs of my hands and had a small patch of sunburn there.  And i didn't put sunscreen insides my ears; i got the tops and outsides, but not the insides!  They were so badly burned my ears were misshapen for a couple of days.

The GPS map says we walked 9.3 miles and climbed 4,700 feet.  I wore a pedometer that counted my steps, and it said i walked enough steps for 16.5 miles!   The difference is because my steps were so small when climbing. When glissading, i missed a lot of steps, and my plunge steps were longer than usual, i probably took enough steps to, at a normal stride, walk 18 miles!

Julie drove us back to Seattle.  I was extremely tired.  I was very glad i didn't have to drive. I still wished it was a train, none of us would have had to drive tired...  Wouldn't it be great to be able to play cards, eat, and nap on the train ride home?  The car ride was long and i was happy to get home. I could barely get out of the car (my legs failed on the first attempt).  I really appreciated the thick gooey air filled with oxygen!  I slept a long time, and i felt fine the next day. I could feel it in my legs a little, but just walking the neighborhood stretched that out.

My Happy Travel Shirt

Before setting out for my year long trip to Europe in 1999 i needed a shirt.  I didn't want to take one of my favorite shirts, because i knew i would destroy it wearing it every day for a year.  But i wanted to have a shirt i liked, a shirt that was comfortable.  Since i would only have one long sleeve shirt, it needed to be very flexible. One that was casual and yet could pass for kind of a little dressed up if needed.and good in different temperatures.

I figured i was looking for nice a rubgy shirt.

I love the used clothing store, but i do dread shopping for used clothes.  It's even more time consuming and frustrating that shopping for new clothes because you usually have to search long racks of clothing and try on dozens of items to find one or two that are going to work.  Don't get me wrong, i'm thrilled to have these great used clothing stores near by and i get almost all of my clothing from them; it's just that it can be tiring and frustrating as a shopping session stretches into infinity.  I try to hang in there as it seems like it will never end, although it's only an hour and a half or so.

So on Yellow Pig Day, (July 17th), 1999 (which  from 1984 to 2002 was consistently my lucky day!) i headed up to the then recently opened Value Village in the old REI flagship store location, determined to hang in there as long as it took, and find a shirt that was going to work.

I walked in, went up the stairs, and walked along the racks for my size.  Without really breaking pace i pulled 5 or 6 shirts that looked like they would work and took them to the mirror.   I tried them on quickly, two were decent, one i liked a lot, a green and blue striped shirt.  I tried it again, it felt right, i walked downstairs and bought it.  Less than 5 minutes, and SCORE!

This was a GREAT shirt while i was traveling.  I wore it every day.  I wore it to dinner parties and working on the farm, on trains, in churches, hiking and even, once or twice, to bed.  It was comfortable, durable, flexible, kept me warm and looked good on me.

Of course the trip was amazing. It turned into 14 months and is filled with many of my happiest memories.  I still have that shirt.  It's pretty tattered around the edges and looks heavily worn, but when i'm feeling a little down, i put it on and i have a good day.

BMW

To the guy who passed me at speed with less than an inch clearance on a tight residential street:

You know people are laughing at you, right?

When you buy the Ultimate Driving Machine, and then actually drive it as if you yourself were in a TV commercial: cartoonishly fast, with complete disregard for laws, conditions or other people, it makes people think that you actually believe the advertising.  And only children believe advertising.  That's one of the definitions of growing up.

When you demonstrate that level of childishness and foolishness what else can normal people do but laugh and feel sorry for you?

How to get away with murder.

I often get frustrated at how we, in this society, tend to forgive an enormous amout of behavior that would be criminal if any object other than an automobile were used.  Crimes that would inspire public revulsion and a long maximum sentence are virtually ignored if the weapon is car.  It's not unusual for people who KILL pedestrians or cyclists to be given no sentence at all.  Sometimes you can kill multiple people and go scott free.

A couple of years ago a driver with MULTIPLE tickets killed a pedestrian in West Seattle.  The police did not ticket the driver.  Although he was speeding and ran a red light and the DA declined to press charges.  They said that since he was a father, a religious leader and a 'moral' man he should be forgiven.  He'd killed someone and there was a pattern of behavior that predicted it!!

Unfortunately for him, although he used the correct weapon for murder, he killed an important person, the aide to a city council member.  The council insisted that the county file charges.  He had a trial (he hit another person between the murder and the trial and got a speeding ticket DURING the trial!)  He was found guilty and given a suspended sentence. No jail time at all. A spree of violence and a cold blooded murder and no jail time.  Chilling?  What's worse is that this violent terror did not lose his driving privileges at all.

I think we've got to stop the special exceptions for assault, battery and murder that go easy on someone if a car is the weapon.  I've ranted about it for years.  I've been wanting to do a blog post on it for 15 years. I've never had the right words, calm enough but strong enough.  Insightful and clear enough to force the paridm shift away from the typical car-head perspective.

We had a terrible crime last year when a cyclist was killed and the driver drove off.  That driver was finally caught and confessed this week after yet another hit and run.  Unfortunately, the maximum sentence allowable for this murder is only 41 months.  The law is so lenient solely because of the weapon used. The prosecution is soliciting letters from the community to give to the judge to help with the sentencing.

I wrote something very quick.  While i don't think it's very good, at least it's to the point.

 Here's what i wrote:

This kind of crime makes people angry.  And it should. It makes me very very angry.

What i WANT is for this guy to be locked up forever and throw away the key.  But that doesn't help anyone or change anything.  That's emotion talking.  It's anger, it's revenge.  It doesn't help me, or him.  Nor does it help or society in general, which is, after all, the point.

What IS important is that he DOES NOT drive anymore.  That is what makes a difference; that is what is important to me, and for that matter that is what is important for society.   It's better for the city of Seattle that this person does not drive a car. And it's good for him too.

Personally, i think he should NEVER be allowed to drive a car again, and that would be my strong vote.  But again, putting emotion aside and trying to think logically, i would suggest a very long license suspension, 4 years at the very minimum, probably much more.  Suspend his driving privileges and give him an ORCA card.  Make his probation dependent on not driving a car. 

And then make it very public that this extremely dangerous driver will be prevented from driving.   That might work as a detergent for future murderers.  And if he IS ever allowed to drive again, he should have to undergo some sort of strong training in safe driving before his privileges are restored.

I don't think it's very well written, or expresses my thoughts well. Now i know it's odd to link to a COMMENT in a blog post,  (Normally all comments on the internet are a good argument for why the internet is idiotic.) but user merlin on Seattle Bike Blog posted their letter in the comments.   It's exceptionally well written.  This is it.  It is what i wish i had said:

We have a parallel case going to trial in Seattle soon:
A 20-year-old man was charged Friday with second-degree murder in the shooting of Justin Ferrari, a father who was driving with his family in the Central District when he was struck by a stray bullet. The suspect, Andrew J. Patterson of Federal Way, was arrested Thursday and booked into the King County Jail. He faces up to 23 years in prison if convicted.

Mr. Patterson did not intend to kill Justin Ferrari. He recklessly fired a shot across the street where Ferrari was driving. He fled the scene, and was eventually tracked down by the police. He is charged, appropriately, with second degree murder, with a possible sentence of 23 years in prison.

Mr. Garcia-Reyes did not intend to kill Michael Wang. He recklessly propelled a dangerous vehicle across the street where Wang was riding. He fled the scene, and was eventually tracked down by the police. He is charged with felony hit and run, with a maximum sentence of 41 months.

Mr. Garcia’s crime is just as serious as Mr. Patterson’s, although it is treated much less seriously by the law. He should receive the maximum sentence. Mr. Patterson, if convicted, will be prohibited from owning a gun. Mr. Garcia-Reyes should be prohibited from driving a car.

These punishments do not even begin to make good the harm caused by these men’s actions. In a just world, Mr. Garcia-Reyes would be required to spend the rest of his life riding a bicycle and teaching classes to automobile drivers about the awesome responsibility that comes with driving.

In addition, Mr. Garcia-Reyes should be required to provide restitution to Mr. Wang’s family in whatever form the family requests.

ORCA's Fin

A few years ago, a dozen or so bus (and ferry) systems around metropolitan Seattle, including King County Metro, switched from standard cash fares to a smartcard system.  This was timed with the long, long awaited opening of our first light rail line.

I was excited when the ORCA™ smartcard public transit payment system was rolled out.  I like the convenience of it -- especially the e-purse (a debit account for transit fare) since, as a full time bike commuter i do rely on the transit system, but i don't take it often enough to make a monthly pass worthwhile.  I was an early adopter and use mine frequently.  As a transit advocate i got about a dozen of them when they were still free so i could hand them out to my friends.

I like not having to think about carrying exact change and and i like that the transfers are all automatically calculated.  (Although i have noticed that the computer is not as friendly with allowing expiring transfers as the drivers were!).

Most of all i really like being able to pay my fare without having to open my wallet.  I just wave my wallet in front of the reader.  A couple of times i bumped my butt against the reader and it worked, the reader recorded my fare.  But the drivers didn't like that very much, they thought i was showing them up.  I didn't like that very much either; It really drove home to me that my transit information was broadcasting out the back of my pants all day long.

I'm fascinated with RFID, the method of communication that the smartcards use, i think it's a very interesting technology.  As a HAM radio operator i consider my ORCA™ to be just one more cool radio that i use.  I like the way it works, converting radio energy into electrical energy and back again; fitting four different electrical devices into a almost microscopic web of electrical wire. 

RFID cards have a mesh embedded throughout the entire card which acts as a receiving antenna.  When the card reader sends out a radio signal (asking 'Who are you?') that antenna receives the signal.  Here's the cool part: the mesh then converts the radio energy from the received signal into electrical energy to power a tiny computer.  And the computer? It's the mesh itself!  The mesh that makes the antenna is laid out so that it also can work as a microprocessor.

The converted electrical energy runs through the this mesh microprocessor, reading (and writing) data.  Then at the end of the run of wires, the electrical energy is converted back into radio energy and the mesh is used as a transmitting antenna to send the data back to the reader. 

There is of course loss of energy in all of this, the response signal from the card is much, much weaker than the original query signal from the card reader.  This is a benefit, not a problem since it means the card only works if you hold it close to the reader.

One day in March about a year and a half ago, i noticed my mobile phone sitting next to my wallet on the table.  I stared at them for a moment and it occurred to me that since the phone was radiating a signal (a pulse at least every 30 seconds alerting nearby cell towers to its presence) that the ORCA™ card in my wallet must be receiving and processing that signal!  Although the signal was on a different frequency than the one the card was expecting (1,200 Mhz, not 13.56 Mhz) the signal would still be received and the card must be transmitting its own weak signal, with garbage, not real data. 

The next day i was in a Mexican restaurant with a friend telling them about that epiphany.  While we were talking i had an idea.  I took the foil that had wrapped my burrito and wrapped a piece around a business card.  I stuck it in my wallet, outside of my ORCA™ card, but next to it, touching the card.  Aluminum foil can act as a weak faraday cage -- that is it can stop or at least scramble up radio signals.  My hope was that i could still wave the inside of my wallet (the part usually against my body) over the reader, but the outside would be blocked.  The foil doesn't have to stop the stronger incoming signal from the reader, it only has to stop the very weak outgoing signal response from the card.

A few days later i tried it on the bus.  The reader would not read my card at all.  Neither the front or the back of my wallet would work.  I had to remove the card.  Frustrating, but still, an interesting result! The foil touching the card disabled it.  That could be beneficial.

So after i sat down on the bus i moved the card in my wallet.  I moved it so that instead of actually touching the ORCA™ card, the foil was about 5 credit cards away from it -- still outside of it.  On the connecting bus i tried waving the outside of the wallet over the reader -- it would not read.  The driver was waiting for me, so i hurriedly flipped my wallet over and waved it and it did read from the inner side of the wallet!

Excellent!  This works.  If these results held true, i had something that could either:

1. block RFID transmission from the outside of the wallet (while my body blocked the inside.) or 
2. entirely disable a RFID while in the wallet.  

This would be useful! 

I liked the idea of using it, but it also seemed like an opportunity.  I figured i could make them pretty easily.  I came up with the name "The ORCA Fin" and designed some business card sized labels. I printed out the labels, cut some thin foil to the same size and took it to Kinkos and laminated it.  I now had a credit card size shield with a label and logo.  I made two of them -- a prototype with 1 sheet of thin foil plus one sheet of paper (with the info) and, just to be sure, another prototype with 2 sheets of foil in addition to the info card. 

On March 31st i checked the web and theorcafin.com was taken, but orcasfin.com was not; i bought the domain orcasfin.com. I created a ORCA's FIN site on my webserver and put a placeholder webpage up. 


I figure with PayPal and a simple form system i could take orders, charging $5 each, i pay domestic shipping.  I need to price printing, lamination and postage.  I think postage will be 80 cents, but that will depend on the final design.  The labels, 16 per page, are just a couple of cents.  I might buy a lamination machine rather than using Kinkos at $1.25 each time.  Then i need to re-write the instructions on the logo labels.  I'll need to write a little script on my website to run the order form.  I'm inclined to go paypal only, but maybe find a way to take credit cards.  Then i need to start talking about them, handing them out.  Send one to the Electronic Freedom foundation, maybe one to Boing Boing.  And then buy foil and start making them.


ORCA™ uses the MIFARE™ system.  A number of other transit systems around the world use this system and there are at least 3 other systems that use 13.56 Mhz credit card systems for fare paying or access (such as Zipcar).  And if this works for MIFARE™ it should work for all of them.  It occurred to me that i will need to think of a different name if i'm going to sell them outside of Seattle. I like the word play of ORCA's Fin.  I want a word that implies blocking.  I need to work on that:  Smartcard shield?, tinfoil hat?, card condom?, fare protector?, card cage?, wallet wall?   So far i think Wallet Wall is best.

So once i tested the laminated version, i was ready to go.  The next time i took the train i tested it.  It failed!  Neither prototype was able to block the signal at all!!!  Not touching, not spaced, not outside or inside.  I was a bit disappointed.  I tried again in mid April, the next time i took the train, with the same disappointing results. But this time i discovered that i can wave the card over the reader a second time to cancel my fare -- meaning that i don't have to ride the train to test the cards, i just have to go to the station.  Since i only ride the train once or twice a month and the bus less often, this was a very good discovery.

So i made two more prototypes using much thicker foil.  These were prototypes #3 & #4.  (If you count the raw foil one without lamination as #0.)  One had one layer of the thicker foil, the other had two layers.  These also each had two paper labels, one on each side, completely hiding the foil and giving me more room for instructions.  They looked pretty good.   I tested these prototypes repeatedly in mid April.  No luck.  I didn't test them touching the smartcard -- maybe i should have. 

Next i laminated two more prototypes -- the sixth and seventh prototypes, marked them #5 & #6 (still counting the non-laminated one as zero).  Prototype #5 has three layers of much thicker foil. Prototype #6 has SIX layers of much thicker foil.  In July i took them down to the light rail station to test them.   Neither seemed to work at all. 

This was frustrating, i put the whole thing aside for a while, but i may pull it out and work on it again.  I'm pretty disappointed at this juncture.  I'm not sure why they are not working, some ideas i've had:    

• Perhaps the shield is not quite as wide as the smartcard by a few millimeters on all four edges and maybe that's just enough for the outgoing signal to leak around.  That seems pretty unlikely to me.
• Perhaps the foil is still just not thick enough.  But the thin foil works without lamination.
• It doesn't make any sense, but maybe the lamination is preventing the foil from shielding.  I'm pretty certain the lamination is going to prevent the foil from completely disabling the card, i think it needs actual contact with metal for that to work.
• Maybe the first test didn't actually work and just foil isn't going to stop the signal at all.
• or maybe there is something obvious that i am missing.

I kept the ORCA's Fin in my wallet, in the outside location that i wish worked throughout the autumn.  Occasionally when i rode the bus i'd give it a try, but it never blocked anything.  In early December i walked downtown and duplicated the original test.

• My prototype #6 (laminated with 6 layers of foil and 2 of paper) has been living in my wallet for months, outside of my ORCA™ card, spaced.  I tried it. It failed to stop the signal in any way.  Damn. 
• I put the foil only prototype #0 (2 sheets of thin foil wrapped around a business card) in my wallet spaced away from the ORCA™ card. It worked!!  It stopped the card from working on that side of the wallet, it still worked from the other side.
• I moved the foil prototype to touching the ORCA™ card.  It disabled the card entirely.  Success!
• I tried a new thing -- i put the foil in, spaced away from the ORCA™ card and put the laminated (#6 with 6 layers of foil) Fin outside of it (so my visa card will slide in and out freely).  That worked.  I'm going to leave it that way, that will be my basic wallet configuration.  

(At the same time a friend tested his system where he vacuum sealed a strip of foil and put it in his wallet.  That blocked the signal completely, both sides, as he intended.)

Next time i will try with the laminated Fin inside of the foil prototype.  Perhaps that will show me something about the lamination. I can't understand why the raw foil prototype works and the laminated ones don't.  I can't see how lamination could nullify a faraday effect, besides there are several laminated cards between the ORCA and the foil in the working system.  I don't think the foil is really any wider than the foil in the lamination.  I don't get it.

 It doesn't look like i can sell them, but at least i get the functionality!!

Written In Stone

A friend and i went on a bike ride, which we started by riding light rail. One of the (many) great things about Seattle's light rail line is that it can extend the range of  bike rides.  I can do 30, 50, 60 mile rides in the south end that were just not reachable before.  I can reach towns and neighborhoods, roads and trails that i could never get to. I even managed to ride to the Carbon River ranger station at Mount Rainier in one day without taking a car.  Because of this system I can experience places that were not available to me before. And i can take people with a shorter cycling range to places that i've enjoyed.  It's great.

Another great thing about the light rail is the large amount of public artwork that graces the stations. On the recent ride in question, i got off the train at the Sea Tac airport station, and was face to face with an beautiful piece of artwork called Flying Sails. 

There are two large pieces, one at each end of the platform. Each is a collection of spinning, mirrored, rectangles making up one of the two eponymous "sails".  The individual panels can turn and twist in the wind, since the station is partially open to the elements.  Most of the shiny rectangles have a word carved into them. One of the sails, at the north end of the platform, contains mirrored panels that have Pacific Northwest Native American tribe names carved on them.
 

The mirror panels in the south sail have the names of various cities around the world carved into them.
I really like it!

Since i liked the artwork and it is about Salish tribes and about geography, i was drawn towards it like a moth to a flame.  I immediately noticed a few cities i have been in.  Regensburg, Rouen and Brno, caught my attention first; briefly the thought of their similar latitude in northern Europe went through my head.  I lined up the reflected photo of my bike at the top of this post for my friends outside of Karlsruhe, another city i have visited which i know the latitude of.

As i stood staring at it, i couldn't help but notice that there was a man hanging from a harness in the middle of the artwork.  He said he was the artist who created it, and he was cleaning it "because it was not intended to be outside".  He looked down at us and said, slyly, "Have you figured it out yet?"

Not willing to bite his hook, i just shrugged and told him i really liked it.

He told me the hidden secret was that they were all cities on the same longitude or latitude as Seattle.  I quickly asked him why Innsbruck was not there, since when i was in downtown Innsbruck in 1999 i noticed a monument with the latitude on it: 47.2°, which is Seattle's south suburbs (the location of the airport) -- you don't really get any closer than that.

But curiously he said, "no, Innsbruck is way too far south".

There were a lot of cities i recognized. I noticed that Budapest was not there. But Karlsruhe was.  I didn't say anything else, but i know that Karlsruhe is not on 47, nor is Brno, Regensburg, Wissembourg, Metz or Rouen.  It was kind of uncomfortable, especially for someone who suffers from perfectionism as badly as i do.  I was embarrassed for him!

Well, we took a bunch of photos of the artwork and pedaled off and had a great bike ride.  But when i got home, i couldn't stop the data geek in me -- i did some research and crunched some numbers.   First i took the latitude and longitude of every city on the sail and entered them into a spreadsheet.

The stated idea of the artwork is that the sail contains the names of cities either on the same latitude line or longitude line as Seattle.  There are not many cities in the world on 127 degrees West longitude.  Sacramento is, but south of there it's all open ocean, and a couple of small towns in northern Canada.  Those are on the sail. But my concern was with the latitude cities -- so i graphed only those cities.

As usual, a graph helps us process the data in a meaningful way; it allows us to visualize patterns we might not notice in just a list of numbers.  When looking at this graph, it becomes immediately clear that a couple of the American cities are on Seattle's 47.4 degrees North latitude (and a couple of the Asian cities get close to it). But then they start to trend northwards and then there are a bunch of European and Asian cities which are all clustered on 49° N!

So next i put Seattle (green circle) and Vancouver BC (blue triangle) on the graph.  I also put a dotted line of Seattle's metro area from north of Everett.to Olympia.   And i found a bunch of European & Asian cities that actually are on the same latitude as Seattle, about 47.4° N, i graphed those with a dark red dash.

The trend is very clear here.  Although the cities on the sail trend far north of Seattle, there are plenty of options of cities that do match Seattle's latitude.  Ulaan Baatar, Orléans, Zaporizhzhya, Gyor, Rosenheim, Novoselovo, Vama, Basel, Volgodonsk, Budapest, Starodubskoye, Zurich, Qiqihar, Innsbruck, Rostov on Don and Nantes to name but a few.  It's not for a lack of cities at 47.4 that they are missing from the artwork.

This graph showed me what really happened. The calculation for determining the cities in the artwork used the latitude of Vancouver BC (49.3° N), instead of Seattle's latitude!  He missed by well over a hundred miles.  The artist made an error which got literally chiseled into stone!

I imagine he just punched in 49 instead of 47 when he was searching for cities.  Easy error.  Terrifying to a perfectionist, but not really that big a deal. 

(It did occur to me that that perhaps the artwork was originally planned to be in Vancouver, but at the last minute it went to Seattle instead so he just changed 2 or 3 panels.  The "not supposed to be outdoors" comment suggests that there was a change in plans, but the tribes would also change And when he spoke to me he was really quite emphatic;  he seemed to believe it was accurate.  And he told me Innsbruck was too far south.  It's not, it's almost as exact as is possible.

The problem isn't that i can't see past the error to see the beauty -- i can, i quite enjoy it; i'm very glad it's there.  I'm capable of holding two ideas at the same time. I thrill at the beauty of the art and marvel at the accomplishment of creating it while being frustratingly aware of the error.  Too aware, i admit. The whole thing made me think a lot about my perfectionism.

One of the big problems with perfectionism is fear.  Fear that prevents accomplishment. This guy jumped in and made something amazing.  Yes, he made an error and that error is permanent.  But he didn't let worry stop him.  He avoided the Brain Crack of perfectionism.  And he created something great.

On the way home i managed to get a good photo of both of us reflected in this wonderful artwork.

The Boogey Man

In mid April i got up one morning to find my rear tire flat.  Just sitting overnight in my living room it had gone down.  Slow leak.  Damn.  I was in a  hurry to get to an appointment, and ever the optimist, i hoped that it had just gotten low without me noticing.  So instead of reaching for my tire levers i reached for my floor pump.  The tire seemed to hold air so i rode off.  It lasted the whole day, but the next morning it was flat again, so i changed it. The nice thing about a slow leak is being able to change the tire at home instead of on a roadside.

I've changed a lot of tires in the past 40 years. A lot.  Hundreds.  Lots of my own and lots for other people.  That's not bragging, it just is what it is.  I can do it in my sleep.  I'm careful and pretty quick.  That morning i quickly got the tube out but, i could not find a hole in it.  I thought another valve might have failed (i got a bad batch of tubes from a dodgy bike shop a few months ago, all the valves failed after only a couple weeks).  I finally resorted to the bucket of water method and even then it took some work to find the extremely tiny hole barely pushing out a bubble every few seconds.  I patched the tube.  I used a big patch instead of my tiny patches because, well in the back of my mind i was a bit worried about The Boogey Man.

I searched the tire and i could not find what caused the puncture and that's always concerning.  The most important part of changing a tire, of course, is finding the cause and pulling the tack or prying out the glass to make sure it doesn't happen again immediately.  I guess at that point i really should have started to think about The Boogey Man but i didn't.  I fixed the tire, pumped it up and pedaled off and didn't think about it again. However, i did buy a new tube later that day.

A few days later i went on a 50 mile ride far from home, no problems.  But after a week of riding every day i got up one morning to find it flat again.  I was planning a bike repair party in a few day so again, i just pumped up the tire each morning at home and was able to ride on it all day each day until it was convenient to repair it.

At the end of the week, at home, i pulled off the tire and, with effort, found the tiny leak right at the edge of last week's patch.  I spent a lot of time looking for what could have caused it, running my finger around the inside of the tire, examining it closely, even using the trick of rubbing cotton on it (hoping for a snag). I couldn't find anything. 

I started to talk myself into the idea that maybe i just did a bad patching job.  It's possible after all, maybe the edge of the patch failed.  It took some effort but i convinced myself this wasn't a puncture but a patching failure.  However i guess i wasn't completely convinced because i didn't use the new tube, i patched the old tube again:  proof that in the back of my mind i was scared of The Boogey Man.

I don't have to change tires very often on my bike, and it's not just because of my partially-in-jest superstition against saying the f-word (f-l-a-t) while on the bike.  I don't like to tempt fate, but i also try to be protected.  I do a good clean job of changing my tires, but mostly i select good tires.  I often tell people that's the one part of the bike you should really spend money on.  In almost all areas, used or cheap will do fine, but not tires.

When i first moved to Western Washington my Bridgestone RB-T had it stock tires on it.  I didn't even consider replacing them when i moved -- they were fine in Wisconsin after all. But after a full winter of riding 400 miles a month on the wet roads (it rains a bit in Seattle) i changed my mind.  I changed my mind while changing a flat in downtown Shelton:  the 4th flat in the 60 mile ride from Seattle to Olympia.

Many bicycle tires (especially the cheaper ones) are made of a rubber fabric, woven strands of rubber, which spreads when it gets wet creating many tiny holes in the tire.  Not good in the rain.  A fully pressed rubber tire is far superior.  I quickly found the legendary Avocet Cross II K tires: solid tires with an inverted tread which acts like a slick when you want it to and like a knobby when you need it to. Best of all they also have a kevlar belt for puncture protection. After 12 years (with only 2 flats) i got another set which i eventually sold with the bike.   I loved those tires.  They are unfortunately hard to find.  I know people who have several sets stashed in the garage because they are so amazing.

The Avocet Cross tires on my road bike had me spoiled and i eventually found some tires with puncture protection for my city bike and for at least 10 years now i've ridden heavy, expensive, protected tires.  It's saved me a great deal of time and bother.  The last 12,000 miles or so i've been riding on Schwalbe Marathon Plus tires on my combination road/city bike.  I first tried them when a friend gave me a pair (she didn't like the weight).  I've found them to be wonderful, dependable tires that are comfortable on the road or on the trail.  They work great on my highly customized on road/off road Bianchi Volpe.  I very, very rarely have to change a tire.  Every few weeks i examine the tires and pry out pieces of glass and shards of metal that didn't make it through to cause problems --these are very durable tires.

So trying not to think about The Boogey Man i remounted my tire, pumped it up and set out on my errands. As usual, once i got on the bike, i didn't think about the tire at all. And once again, i got another full week of riding without a thought and without problems until one morning i got up and saw my bike in my living room.  Another flat; DAMN!

I had several appointments to get to. I changed the tire so fast i wasn't sure if i knew exactly how the tube was oriented, so i wasn't 100% sure it was the same spot on the tire, but the puncture was in the same spot on the tube, just a few millimeters from the previous two patches.  I patched it up quickly and was on my way.  Now i really was consciously thinking about The Boogey Man.  All the signs were there. It had me scared.

Once again after rolling out the door, i thought no more about it and once again i got a full week of riding, including a half century away from home.  This time, after 8 or 9 days of not thinking about it i grabbed the bike to hurry out of the house and as i rode out the driveway i knew.  Damn!  It was flat again.

Once again, it was a slow leak.  After 3 more days of pumping every morning. I piled yet another patch on the little pile of patches.  For this one, and the next one the following week i used the super tiny patches less than half an inch in diameter. They went right next to one of  the larger patches, so it looked a little like the cartoon of a water molecule, or Mickey Mouse(tm)!  I took the tire out in the bright sun with a magnifying glass and my pocket knife and examined it as closely as i could.  I was certainly not using the new tube at this point because now, i couldn't deny it, i was running from The Boogey Man

After the fifth go round i called up my buddy Kent and told him my story:   slow leaks, nothing can be found in the tire, lasts a few days each time.  He confirmed my fears.  It was The Boogey Man.  Actually what he said first was: "You're fucked."

Michelin Wires are kind of the Boogey Man of cyclists.  I have to say, i'm not sure i really believed in them.  I had heard about them, but i had never encountered one in over 70,000 miles.  And even though as august an authority as Kent regaled me with horror stories, it sounded almost like a campfire ghost story to me.   Beware The Boogey Man! Boo!

Just to twist the knife, Michelin Wires actually come from cars.  They are part of the steel belt in steel belted radials.  The steel belt is not solid, it is a woven fabric of hair-thin steel wires.  When someone drives that tire down to the steel belt, the wires, or the whole tire can wind up on the side of the road.  When the wires are long they are not much of a problem, but as they decompose they wind up as little teeny tiny shards.  These almost invisible bits of wire can slowly work their way into your tire.  My personal demon probably spent weeks working through that 5mm protective layer.

It's a good tire, it's got 4,000 miles on it and i'm sure it's got another 4,000 more left in the tread.  At this point i'm scared to use it.  But i don't have another one and i don't have any money so i don't really have any choice.  I went to the storage locker and pulled out my previous set of Schwalbe Marathons with 8,500 miles on them.  But they are worn almost through in places.  I didn't trust them.

The offending tire was already marked up with sharpie and chalk markings as i tried to limit the area of the search. Sigh.  So i patched that same tube again.  I tried booting the problem area of the tire with duct tape in hopes that would help (Kent said it wouldn't.  As usual, he was right.) I was also hoping that maybe the big pile of patches already there (six, for those who are counting) would start to form a layer of protection against my own personal Boogey Man.

I put the wheel back on this time with a Sisyphean certainty of yet another puncture.  Every previous time i had some secret, overly optimistic hope that i would be ok.  This time i knew better.  It went against my instincts to put a any tube in that tire, new or otherwise. I had this morbid understanding of the futility;  but i was hoping that next time i could take the tube out carefully enough to pinpoint (pun intended) the precise location of the offending Michelin Wire and extract it with tweezers.

To add to my stress, i had a long planned metric century (64 miles) far from town planed for next week that i was really looking forward to.  I didn't want to miss it!

It punctured again only 5 days later.  I noticed it, at home again, mid-afternoon when i had appointments that evening.  I can't begin to express my frustration.  This time i wrestled with the tire for a couple of hours.  I could not find the damn wire.  This is a great tire and i love the protective layer, but it's possible that protection is working against me here.  I think the little booger is retreating back into that layer when the tire is not inflated making it impossible to see it, to feel it, or to grab it. With a complete hopelessness i put a seventh patch on the pile.

Then i did something strange. There are these "tuffy" style tire liners on the market.  In my experience they cause more flats than they protect against (because the tube gets cut or pinched by the liner) and they weigh a lot, but i was desperate.  I gave in against my best instincts.  I put one in and i duct taped the place where the two ends met to try to mitigate the pinch problems.  I rode to my appointment and back home without problems. Unlike before i did not forget about my tire, i was constantly aware of it. Then the next day my errands went off fine.  By now i was checking the tire every 15 minutes.

Tuesday, the day of the metric century in the forest,  i set out early in the morning for light rail.  I got the short distance to the train and met my friends for our ride. It was raining, which i really enjoy, but is hard on tires. Once we were through Renton and out in the forest we had a wonderful ride.  I checked my tire regularly and thought about it constantly.  It poured rain and we rode through some very remote areas.  I noticed a little slippage side to side on the big downhills, but i attributed it to the rain. 

Forty-three miles in, right where the lovely country road meets a highway, as we rode back towards civilization, i started to bonk.  We stopped under a bridge out of the rain and i very quickly downed a protein shake.  We were up and rolling again in two minutes, and as we were merging off of the country road and on to the busy highway i asked Dennis, behind me what my tire looked like.

"Flat", he said, passing me.

I hopped off the bike on the very narrow shoulder of the busy highway in the heavy rain and pumped up the tire as fast as i could.  My arms were really tired. 

Then Karen and i split off from the group and rode as fast as we could into town.  I was extremely frustrated about the tire and i was bonking.  I am very grateful to Karen for pacing me the five miles into Auburn.  Once in town, as the sun came out, i stopped to pump the tire up again while everyone waited.

Everyone just thought it was a normal puncture, that a quick tire change was all i needed.  They didn't know about The Boogey Man!  I knew this tire couldn't be changed, i had to pump and ride, that was my only hope. From that point in downtown Auburn it was about 8 miles to the town of Kent and another 6 or so to our end point at Tukwila and i thought there was a chance i might make it just pumping several times.  I wasn't thinking clearly. Damn the Boogey Man!!!!!

When i got the tire pumped up a bit i took the pump off and the presta valve came apart in my hand, blasting all the air out. As if that wasn't enough of a sign, i was sitting one block from the train station.  I really, really, really wanted to finish the ride, but i knew this tire was a goner.

Finally i read the signs and accepted my fate.  I told the group to leave without me.  I walked 1 block and waited for the train.  It was an 80 minute wait. While waiting i called Bike Works and ordered a new tire.  You can't fight The Boogey Man.

I was frustrated while waiting but i was pretty happy once i was on the train. Trains always make me happy.

The next day i took the old tire off.  The flat in Auburn was not caused by the Michelin Wire. The "tuffy" tire liner seems to have held that thing back, at least for a couple of days.  However the tire liner itself cut the tube, that's what caused this flat.  And the tire liner badly abraded the tube in three other places, (including near the pile o patches) all looked ready to fail in the next 20 miles.

A couple of days later i got a call that my tire had come in at the shop, but it turned out that the distributer couldn't get the tire i ordered so sent something different.  I called several other local shops and no one can, at the moment, get that tire. They all have the 32, the narrower one, but not the 35 to match my front tire. I finally ordered one from the always dependable Peter White Cycles (he only had 3 left!).  I put on one of the old badly worn tires in it's place and will ride that with my fingers crossed until my new tire comes. Although knocked down by The Boogey Man i will ride on.  But now i believe.