Turtles are survivors, living representatives of an evolutionary line that dates back to the age of the dinosaurs. And each spring they emerge from their winter quarters in the chill muck of a nearby beaver pond to greet the returning sun, queuing up for favorite spots on fallen trees, rotting stumps, and reedy tussocks. As might be expected—they’ve inhabited a sunless world for nearly six months, after all—there’s often quite a traffic jam. Last week, while making the rounds in the wake of the receding flood waters, I was astonished to see at least two dozen painted turtles. I’ve counted 11 of them in the photo below. How many can you see? (Right-click on any photo to view an enlarged image in a new window.)
Still more were basking just out of the shot. And you can tell from the range of sizes that it’s a multi-generational crowd.
It was a sight to warm my heart. Many of the turtles I see have come off second best in an encounter with a speeding car, so it’s very good to find a whole community of these sprightly survivors, living wild and free. Of course, if I see a turtle on the road, and if he’s lucky enough to have escaped being crushed, I take a minute to help him safely on his way. And you can do the same. It’s not often you get to shake hands with a creature who walked (and swam) with dinosaurs, is it?
The book trade hasn’t seen anything like it since Gutenberg started fiddling around with that newfangled movable type, back when the French were booting England off the Continent. What’s all the fuss about? E‑books, of course. Amazon, which calls itself the “world’s largest bookstore,” is selling more e‑books than print books. It’s much too early to announce the death of the book, but it’s clear that change is in the wind. Many adults — even older, more conservative types — now do most of their reading online or on‑screen. I know I do, and this very column is testament to readers’ changing habits.
Luckily, as revolutions go, it’s a pretty tame affair. More akin to a bloodless coup than an armed insurrection. But while owners of independent bookshops may have cause to mourn, the e‑book has given paddlers a lot to be thankful for. Not only do we have easy access to thousands of formerly hard‑to‑come‑by titles — explorers’ journals, travelers’ tales, and how‑to handbooks — all of them available at little or no cost, but we can carry hundreds of volumes in our packs. If you’ve ever been windbound for three straight days with just one book, or wondered what life was like in and around Moose Factory when it was still Moose Fort, you’ll appreciate what this can mean. And e‑book readers like Amazon’s Kindle do even more. For instance, my newish Kindle 3G helps me navigate (it holds a small library of PDF quads, and the display is larger than the one on my Garmin GPS). It even lets me (1) check NOAA weather radar to find out whether the storm on the horizon will last an hour or a day, (2) check my e‑mail, and (3) google for campsites and motels further down the road — though I can only do those three things when I’m within reach of a cell‑phone network. No matter. It’s still a plus.
The upshot? My Kindle is much more than a leisure‑time toy. It’s a useful tool and constant companion, whether I’m paddling, hill‑walking, or cycling. But just when I thought I’d figured out everything it could do for me, I discovered a few more applications. It all started when I found myself in need of instruction…Read more…
If you use a bike for any of the things that most people use a car for—going to work, shopping, keeping appointments in town—and if you don’t have dedicated bike paths linking home to your destination, then you might have concluded that much of the cozy greenwash on the subject of transportation cycling is piffle. There’s the fear factor, for one thing: the knowledge that you dice with death on every ride, and that a moment’s inattention on the part of any one of the hundreds of motorists who pass you on every trip can leave your broken body stretched out on the highway. There’s not much about that in the transportation cycling hymnbook. Understandably, perhaps.
But fear can be mastered. What can’t be easily overcome is the parking problem. It’s all well and good to arrive alive at your destination. But what are you going to do with your bike when you get there? Aye, that’s the rub. And here’s where the glib chat of so-called “bicycle advocates” can reach delusional depths in all but exceptional cases. “Wow!” they opine. “Trade your car for a bike, and you’ll never waste time hunting for a parking space again!” Sure. Of course, you will spend plenty of time clearing snow and ice from buried bike racks in winter. Or wandering around like a latter-day Flying Dutchman, looking for a place to lock up that is (1) legal, (2) safe, and (3) sheltered from rain and snow, not to mention protected from random assault by car, shopping cart, or power chair. Then, when at long last you’ve found a suitable spot and locked up—that can be a five-minute job in its own right if you’re at the limit of your cable’s stretch—you still have to strip every removable object from your bike before you leave it (and then reattach them all before setting off again). On good days, I plan on it taking me something like a quarter-hour to “park” my bike. And on bad days? Let’s just say it makes me think fondly of those happy times when I could just pull into a parking space, lock the car, and go about my business. Car-free, it seems, is rarely carefree. Not where I live, anyway.
Not surprisingly, I daydream about a better way. But some clever German technical bods have done more than daydream: They’ve developed a fascinating proof-of-concept solution to the bike parking problem. Our Southern Hemisphere Correspondent, Marcos Netto, put me on to it, and I think you’ll agree it’s the answer to every cyclist’s dream. A little touch of blue-sky thinking, maybe, but wonderful, all the same.
Now here it is in action. Check it out (the narration is in German, but if you don’t speak the language, don’t worry; the pictures tell the story):
And there’s more good news: You can make one for yourself. The designers have posted the bill of materials on their website. But before you rush off to the shop, heed their warning:
Achtung: Der Fahrradlift ist ein Unikat und wurde speziell für den Dreh des TV Spots entwickelt. Das Modell ist nicht TÜV geprüft. Nachbau und Benutzung auf eigene Gefahr. Angaben ohne Gewähr.
Or, auf Englisch (a very free translation):
Listen up! The BicycleLift is a one-off proof of concept. It’s not TUV-approved, and if you build one, you do so at your own risk. We make no guarantees.
