The ultimate Mudgeeraba ride

This was from quite a while ago, but still worth a mention. At the time I was recovering from the nasty illness I had that wiped out most of January's riding. On this particular day I recall that I still wasn't feeling quite right, but decided that there was no conceivable consequence of doing this ride that was any worse than the known consequence of not doing it. I started out by heading down into the deepest, darkest rainforest on Austinville, before swinging around and riding through the gorge to Little Nerang Dam. I've often combined these rides, but today there was going to be a difference.


It was only after returning to the "main" road, that I embarked on the steep climb of Mt Nimmel. It's worth recalling that on this day I was using the heavy MTB because my main bike was off the road waiting for some part to fix some mechanical problem to be ordered. The extra weight of the heavy bike suddenly becomes an issue on the 20% grades of Mt Nimmel. However, the great thing about gradients of that steepness is that they never really last very long. It wasn't long before I reached the summit, with more time to drink in some spectacular views.

Of course, by now I had another plan. Not satisfied with simply returning home, I wanted to embark on another climb, known only as "The Panorama" and spoken of only in hushed terms. I had discovered some information suggesting that the Eastern approach was a 300 metre climb over 5 kilometres. How hard could that be? I was about to find out just how hard it could be, or more specifically, that the bulk of the 300 metre gain happens in the space of 1.5km in the middle, and I had just ridden up Mt Nimmel. Suddenly, I realised this could be a very difficult climb on a hot day when one is out of condition.

Still, having started the climb and having already put some of the height in the bank, I wasn't about to quit now. I pressed on, reaching a point where the gradient eased -- and a good job, too. By now my legs were so shot that even the easier gradient felt hard. Eventually I reached the summit, with some relief, although the views to the west of the range were virtually non-existent, but the coast was easy to spot. I could have descended the alternative side, back to Gilston Road, but frankly, the gradient there was too scary, even for disc brakes. I returned to where I'd climbed, and was shocked at how quickly I descended - despite being on the brakes all the way.

Previously, Mudgeeraba has been thought of nothing more than a 'departure point' for a climb of Springbrook. However, I have since discovered many other charms in this area, and the little spoken of Mt Kimmel offers even more possibilities. In time I will discover all of them, but for now, this was the ultimate Mudgeeraba ride.

Spring Break

It was warm! It was dry! Very unusual for our winter this year. I was afraid we'd missed the bluebells coming up, since last year by this time they'd been budding for at least a week.
There was no sign of bluebells at all, though; not a single leaf was sprouting. It's been cold. Unceasingly, mind-numbingly, give-no-quarter cold.

We did find a few little decumbent trilliums poking up (Trillium decumbens).

There were very few of them. These individuals were on one of the warmer, sunnier slopes. I thought I heard one of them sqeak, "First!"

A single budding Toothwort was nearby.

I was sure we'd find a few Hepatica blooming, but we had to be satisfied with their lovely leaves.

We grilled some salmon, took a nap, went on this little hike, then lounged in the sun. It was nearly 70°F (21°C). It's been so cold and wet and dreary lately. It was wonderful to have a break from all that, even if it was just for one weekend.
We cleaned up in the garden a little, pulling dry vines off their supports. This had been maddening, gloppy work when they were wet. We didn't even care that we were probably popping off dozens of morning glory seeds straight into the garden soil. There are hundreds of them there already. No, probably more like thousands. They were in this dirt when it was brought in. Every spring, we pluck the sprouts with zeal, but by summer's end the morning glories have always won the battle. But on a weekend like this, we just didn't care.

A Pretty Thatched Church

...is what the Bishop reported, when he visited the Augustinian Priory which used to stand on this site. It was dissolved in 1534 and the stone was used to build the pretty little church of St Peter. The bell is said to be the refectory bell from the priory.

Just Click to Enlarge!

As you can see, it is thatched. One of only a few left in the country and the only thatched church in Lincolnshire. When it was built in 1611 it had a tiled roof, but in 1672 a Church Warden (Richard White) thatched it, and took the tiles as payment. I don't know why that happened, perhaps the roof tiles were leaking - or perhaps he was simply an early wheeler-dealer!

1898 view of interior, English Heritage

By the late 19th century the church was in a very dilapidated and run down state so a corrugated iron church was built nearby... and the old church was used only for funerals or the occasional wedding. By 1962 the corrugated church was also in a poor state of repairs, so they finally decided to renovate St Peter's Church.

It is a very small church set nicely back off the road. The site is well sheltered and screened and there are the remains of a moat around part of the site, probably part of the original priory.

The sun was shining as I made my way to the door - it is a quite plain door,

which shows the wear and tear of many years, lovely. I like the very simple ironwork too.

So, it was with a tingle of anticipation and delight that I turned the door handle...to find I was greeted by

this rather less than beautiful interior. It is having all manner of renovation work done to it, not all, I fear is sympathetic. We can only wait to see what happens, I hope it turns out to be a minimally invasive renovation. I'll keep you posted.

Going Gently set a Challenge...

Fans of Owl Wood please read! Going Gently, here is my two-pennyworth





10 Things You Don't Know About Me

• At the age of 15, while living in the Western Isles, I played the part of The Old Woman Who Lived in a Shoe, on a carnival float. Owl Wood, (he was once a child, shock, horror)was an extremely cute Little Jack Horner, one of my children! There he is with a peach-coloured hat and a pretty neck bow on his broad white collar. He was a good sport! Bribery may have had something to do with it.

• I cannot tell left from right. I have tried. I try every day. Some days I know I have finally got it figured out. Those are usually the days when I am dangerously wrong.

• I used to be quite good at milking cows - by hand. I love the sweet smell of cows.

• I won a scholarship to a rather posh high school (they must have been short of applicants). I used to get straight A's in elocution class. I was amazingly good at 'Hot coffee from a proper copper coffee pot' and nonsense such as 'Betty Botter bought some butter, but, she said, this butter's bitter, if I put it in my batter it will make my batter bitter, so Betty Botter bought some butter better than the bitter butter...'you get the idea. Such a useful skill!!

• My husband and I met on a blind date. I almost didn't go, because the same couple who organised it had previously set me up with some dreadful man who had spent the evening trying to show me photographs of nude women. I was not amused and left quite quickly!

• When I was 16 I fell off a horse and was made to get back on; later it was discovered I had broken two bones in my neck. I am still passionate about horses, but I don't ride.

• I cannot ice-skate, I just seem incapable of staying upright. I dread icy pavements, I have the same problem on them!

• In my youth I was tickled pink to find that Donovan (remember him?) would be on board the same small light aircraft as my mother and I - disappointingly, he had his wife with him.

• I used to be able to take shorthand dictation at 200/210 wpm. No wonder my handwriting is so abysmal these days, my mind is always racing ahead of my longhand writing.

• On my way home from work, about 12 years ago, I slipped and hurt my ankle. I sort of knew I had really hurt it. However, I had slipped in a public place right next to my car, so, being very stupid - stiff upper lip and British - about it, highly embarrassed, I got into the car, assuring kindly and concerned witnesses that I was fine, then drove home. It was my left ankle (yes, I am sure about that one - well, if it wasn't the left it was the right..) so I had to press the clutch pedal with it. Home was 5 miles away, through the middle of town, up dale and down dale (lots of gear changes, hill starts, ouch, ouch) I made it. It turned out that it wasn't sprained, it was broken... Dumbo me!

I Have ALWAYS Eaten Too Much

When Cocoa and Barley (http://the2mightybeans.blogspot.com/) came up with this tag, they may just have had a pup like me in mind. Embarrassingly, Sierra Rose has tagged me with the "OOPS I ATE IT" award, cause she knows my history (cough). Do you have the time, bloggie pals, to read my epic about foodables (not to mention non-foodables) I've lifted over a 2-year course of time? Seat your butts and/or bodies down into a comfy place while I spin the saga of Sammie's (stolen) and mostly ingested items.
Contemplating...
Okay... here are the rules to this award:"When accepting this award, you must blog about the food you have stolen when your humans were not watching. If you have never stolen any food, you must have been a really good pup! You can accept this yummy tray of cookies as your reward! Next, add the logo of this award to your blog (optional), then nominate at least 5 other furry blogs and let them know by leaving a message on their blogs."Well... I don't know if there's any "oops" to it, except mama's and dad's incompetence at catching me heheh! I weighed 64 pounds when I came to my furever home in May 2007. By the end of September, I had gained 18 pounds. Here's how:In the first week, I destroyed an alarm clock, ate half a warm gingerbread cake and a potholder, two duck stuffies and a goose one. I munched on the contents of all bath waste baskets, worked on part of a door (plexiglas); when my attempts failed, I knocked it out and jumped outside to freedom. I bit and tore at two screen doors for freedom too. Then I found some form of food on a hike that contained marijuana - later it was not a pretty sight and required emergency vet treatment. Ate back hall carpet, a down pillow, 3 training bumpers, Ozzie's food, both wet and dry, breaking a dish in my attempts to get at it. Ate 2 cardboard boxes where mom's manuscripts resided. I ate corners of blankets, 2 of my Dad's shoes (not a match), apples and plums from backyard trees (that's why there's a wire fence out back today). I uprooted all the garden carrots I could find as well as mom's strawberries and tomatoes. Back in the house, I found two nicely cooked turkey breasts on the counter (WHERE were my keepers?) - got 'em plus a pound of raw turkey meat later that week. I'm very, very fast, and by now, very fat.Ma put me on a strict diet, but that didn't stop me from trying on walks, trails and open space. I'd gobble any poo I could find - horse, deer, bunny or - at home, kitty roca. Disgusting but rare, any upchuck available. I will steal anything from mom's office waste basket that's non-recyclable. She has to watch what she tosses in there. Kitchen trash can is always a major target, but I really can't get to it anymore. I did manage to score three of dad's socks. But the peeps are watching me much more carefully and I'm very hungry, poor me. I think that's why I went for the G-L-O-V-E. What a fiasco that was. It was that event that really put me on constant surveillance. A dropped doggie treat, meant for another pup, or a grandpeep's carelessly held snack is my only fair game these days and it's been tough. However, I was back to a trim 64 pounds a few months later, where I've stayed for a long time. And that's the truth of my sicko crimelife. I need a program! I know that so many of you have posted about this tag, so please, if you haven't received this award, I'd love you to take it and blog about it! I will read it - every word, drooling.Hugs xoSammie Pee Ess: I must, however, tag three particular bloggers, cause I'd really like to hear about the ingestions of stolen foodables (or non!)Tucker and DaisyMason DixieThe Rocky Creek Scotties

Christmas card to Edinburgh

Spot the Edinburgh landmark in the shot below.



A real live Christmas card taking shape before your eyes is a bit of a surprise at 8.30 am on a chilly walk to work. The camera flash makes it seem daylight, but at this time of year we are in midwinter half-light then. Sunrise tomorrow is 8. 37 am, and sunset is 3.38 pm.

Mt Cougal epic fail

I was intending to write a post about this, but somehow I got preoccupied over the last couple of weeks with a small matter of three broken bones and a 12 hour concussion. A few weeks ago (five days before the crash actually) a friend and I decided to attempt a climb of Mt Cougal. Getting to the start was easy enough, a simple ride up Tomewin to the end of Garden of Eden Road (plenty of pictures from this section in the archives), but the rough walking track to the summit of Mt Cougal would be a different matter.



It started with a steep climb through some dense forest with nothing to grab hold of except a barbed-wire fence -- then we were walking through giant cane grass. Eventually, however, the views opened up toward Mt Warning and the Tweed Valley, and Mt Cougal. This was a particularly pleasant and easy stretch. Here the fence proved a beacon, leading us along the ridge. Stray too far from it and the long grass could obscure a long, fast descent.



The track returned to the forest for another steep climb, but this one was a little wider than the earlier one, and thus quite a bit easier to navigate. The cool, dry conditions meant there were no leeches to feed. Personally, I quite enjoy these sections, where the rainforest canopy above makes the whole area feel like a giant cathedral. We also had fun trying to guess the location of the side track that apparently leads to Boyds Butte -- another peak on the range, but one considerbly less dramatic than the cougals.

We eventually made our way to the top of this section, and the end of the fence. All that was left was the final rocky scramble to the summit of Mt Cougal. The only problem was the information we had gathered on this section didn't really tell us very much. There is, by all accounts, a section of the final rock scramble that is quite passable, but somehow we missed it. We spent probably two hours wandering around the base of the rock, but we simply didn't find what we were looking for. With the short days, we eventually decided to call it a day here and walk home, with the intention of being off the track before dark.


The walk back was pleasant, and a lot quicker than the walk out, given that most of it was downhill. Frustration at missing the peak soon gave way to simply enjoying the surrounds. The only minor moment of embarrassment came when we bumped into a Canadian guy who had done the walk, and told us that there was an easy way up the final rock scramble, but we had somehow missed it! We did vow to one day return and finish the hike, although personally I think the views we did see at the end of the fence were just as good as we would have got at the Cougal summit.
Unfortunately, my crash and the resulting injuries have put paid to the plans in the foreseeable future, but the dry season here runs until October. There may be a chance to crest this summit once more in the future.

Good coaches continue to train, and widely

This we believe: becoming certified is more of a commencement than a conclusion of coach education. We gained our first certifications five or six years ago, but that was just the beginning of our journey toward becoming capable coaches. And we're still progressing along that path.

For us, continuing coach education takes several forms. These include:

• Training in a variety of environments


• Training in a variety of paddlesports


• Training with a variety of high-level coaches

This process is time-consuming, expensive and often humbling. But it's also engaging, exciting and eminently rewarding.

Over the past few years, we've had the privilege of working extensively with Shawna Franklin and Leon Somme of Body Boat Blade, International on Orcas Island, Washington, and Scott Fairty of Summit Sports in Brighton, Michigan. Last month, we spent five days in Chicago working with Nick Cunliffe of Kayak Essentials in Anglesey, North Wales. And we just returned from eight days with John Carmody of Sea Cliff Kayakers in Boothbay, Maine.

John Carmody.

We chose to work with John for both his reputation and his location. He's a BCU Level 5 Sea Coach -- the highest coach certification in the BCU system -- who combines a deep knowledge of seamanship and human biomechanics with paddlesport and coach education. And he's based on the craggy Maine coast, where an understanding of tides and current, weather and navigation are non-negotiable and provide good preparation for paddling in the UK (home waters of the BCU) and other ocean environments.

A lighthearted moment on the beach.

We signed up for a BCU four-star leader trainingwith John, but he also invited us to observe a private lesson and a three-star assessment, as well as observe/assist with a three-day course for a group of eight students and their coach, Sylvain Bedard, from Quebec. This gave us seven days on the water with John, along with two days of navigation training on land--experiences that expanded our understanding of the ocean and his approach to coaching in ocean conditions.

A conversation before a daylong journey along the Maine coast.

Because we recently completed a BCU Level 2 coach training, we appreciated the opportunity to see the principles we've been thinking about put into practice by someone who makes it seem effortless. Like any good coach, John chooses a progression based on the students' goals and skills, and selects a venue to match. The Maine coastline offers plenty of opportunities to work in current, tides, swell and surf, as well as chances to maneuver around, over and between rocks and ledges.

John consistently displayed many of the coaching strategies we are working on:

• individualizing instruction for each student


• leaving room for experimentation


• making use of the environment


• incorporating a journey


• using varied practice to keep students engaged and learning


• keeping a sense of humor

John demonstrates proper paddle position while ruddering in a boat made of sand.

John has travelled the world, but there's one place he's never paddled: the Great Lakes. We're thrilled that he'll be a featured coach at the upcoming Gales Storm Gathering symposium, October 11 through 13 in the Apostle Islands. Registration is limited to 60 participants, but there are still some spots available. Register today and you'll be able to work with John, too, without the trip to the east coast.

It's not unusual to find John coaching from the beach or standing in the water.

Easter Armadillo?

The game cam didn't capture the Easter Bunny this year...
All we got was an Easter Armadillo!

Creativity and What Matters Most

"Ultimately, it doesn't matter to the world if you paint or dance or write. The world can probably get by without the product of your efforts. But that is not the point. The point is what the process of following your creative impulses will do for you. It is clearly about process. Love the work, love the process. Our fascination will pull our attention forward. That, in turn, will fascinate the viewer." Creative Authenticity by Ian Roberts