Elasticity

The Otherness of Cycling

2009-04-18T08:09:00.036-07:00

The NY Times has an interesting article about renewed interest in everyday cycling and fashion.

This presents a chance to follow-up on my post last fall about bicycle chic, and a chance to revisit this fascinating evolution of the bicycle movement.

My mind has changed about the value of treating everyday bicycling as a statement of fashion. Like most of my friends and colleagues, including those who identify with bicycle chic, I dream of a world where all sorts of people can feel safe and comfortable riding bikes for all sorts of reasons. However, I remain skeptical of anything that suggests there is one right way to dress or one right way to ride. And I still feel uncomfortable about the dismissal of the great tradition of cycling as sport (and the accompanying false assumption that people who race on weekends or ride mountain bikes for fun aren't interested in pedaling to work).

But I also realize now that bicycle chic is largely about breaking down the "otherness" of cycling. That riding a bike should be, as the Times article puts it, "as notable an act as drinking a cup of coffee." The goal of this cycling sub-culture is that there be no cycling culture.

Personally, I think this is a great thing. But I can also understand why some people currently enthused about cycling would be threatened by it. You see, here in America we've gotten pretty attached to our bike culture(s). We've built some amazing social communities, friendships, professional networks and art around being self-identified "others." Jeff Mapes' excellent new book Pedaling Revolution: H ow Cyclists are Changing American Cities documents this very well.

What's missing from the discussion, it seems to me, is honest discussion about what it takes to make cycling great for all people. In the Netherlands, there is no gender gap in ridership, and people of all ages ride bikes without identifying as "cyclists." The infrastructure and policy make cycling so safe and convenient that it is the most logical choice for many trips, whether you're 16 or 76.

In the United States, we now understand that our past choices have made riding a bike logical and comfortable only for a small subset of people who are already enthused about cycling: the "others." The "others" are almost exclusively young, fit, white men (and increasingly, young, fit, white women). These are the people who are quite happy with the cycling environment as it is, and who might initially resist their self-identity as cyclists dissolving into the mundane of everyday culture.

But, there are tremendously positive things happening now in the United States that are beginning to break down the "otherness". Cities are experimenting with new types of bicycle facilities that might appeal to a much wider swath of society. Bicycling is more popular and dignified than it's been since before World War II. Livable streets movements are gaining ground everywhere. The automobile-dominated era of city design is in its twilight. The challenge now is for the bicycle movement to mature fast enough to have a role in the next one.

Even though New York fashionistas are just as alienating and exotic to most Americans as skinny men in lycra, they plant a vision of human-scaled urbanism into the heads of a whole different segment of society. If the American version of a Northern European-style cityscape (and the accompanying bicycles/fashion accessories) becomes standard practice we all benefit, whether we're riding to work in an Armani suit or to the local cyclocross race on the weekend.

GSD Netherlands Climate Change and Planning Blog

2009-03-24T13:23:00.002-07:00

My studio is blogging daily from the Netherlands about our project regarding climate change, water levels and Dutch urbanism.

See it here.

Bicycle Chic

2008-09-08T11:47:00.017-07:00

There's a new movement afoot in the world of urban bike culture. It seems that the hyper-minimalist fixed gear phenomenon is gracefully ceding its position after a 5-year or so run at the top of the "bikes-are-cool" culture charts. The usurper is a young, feisty upstart known as bicycle chic, which treats the bicycle as a fashion accessory (complete with its own meta-accessories) and measures coolness by how little effort the rider appears to put into the act of riding a bike.

Cycle Chic

Like most cycling sub-cultures, bicycle chic reveres Europe and is thrilled to see itself represented in broader popular culture. Unlike most cycling sub-cultures, the participants of bicycle chic do not come across as giant nerd bombs to the non-cycling world.

But there are strict rules to follow. Absolutely no cycling-specific clothing. No clipless pedals, toe-clips, or anything else that could be described as "gear." Never ride a bike that appears to be less than 15 years old or cost more than $200. Closed-toed shoes if you must, but only when it's cold (and make sure they match the frame color). Never roll up your pant leg, apply a leg band, or in any way alter your appearance for the sake of practicality on the bike. Helmet? Of course not. Messes the hair.

But hey, I applaud the movement. Anything on two wheels is great with me, and frankly the fixed-gear thing was getting a little rusty (not to mention unsafe, with so many novice riders jumping onto the most difficult kind of bike to ride in a city). When the image-conscious latch on to bikes an attractive element of urbanism, the rest of mainstream America can't be far behind. And there's something admirable about mindfully refusing to acknowledge the minor inconveniences of urban bike riding.

However, the whole thing strikes me as a bit disingenuous. For all the emphasis on effortless slackerdom, it takes a lot of work to make it look that easy. It's really just another form of consumerism wrapped in the cloak of a rebellious sub-culture (ie. skate or goth fashion). And the resentment toward the very idea of riding a bike for fun or sport is disheartening. Why is that an adult athlete who seriously practices a sport (and doesn't get paid millions to do it in front of an audience) is met with sneering and mild contempt from others?

But I don't mean to seem too critical. Any cultural shift that recognizes bicycles as a respectable and dignified piece of the urban landscape is most welcome by me.

Here's a small sampling of some of the good bicycle chic blogs out there:

Copenhagen Cycle Chic
Chic Cyclist
Amsterdamize
Cycling Gentlemen

What Newfoundland is Like

2008-06-04T11:41:00.011-07:00

This is what Newfoundland is like.

This too.

Ever see that movie 'Whale Rider?' This is pretty much what it's like.

This is what sunsets in Newfoundland are like.

Red Hook: I coulda been a contenda

2008-05-15T19:37:00.006-07:00

Actual Size: 120" X 36"

Studio Exercise: Reclaiming Brooklyn's Industrial Waterfront

With its proximity to Lower Manhattan and downtown Brooklyn, panoramic views of the New York skyline, passionate and engaged residents, and colorful history (most famously portrayed as the setting of the splendid 1954 film, On The Waterfont), Red Hook is positioned to be one of New York’s best neighborhoods. In recent decades, it has spawned a unique culture surrounding art, sport and food, and has retained a functioning maritime industrial waterfront economy for over 75 years.

However, Red Hook has many hurdles to realizing its potential. It is underpopulated and underserved by transit and amenities. It is physically isolated and automobile dependent, cut off from the rest of New York by water and the hulking Brooklyn-Queens Expressway. Median income of its residents is sharply below the rest of Brooklyn, and unemployment is over 20%. Its building stock and industrial landscape are decaying. Although the harbingers of gentrification have begun to creep into Red Hook, it remains largely in stasis, poised on the brink of transformation but unsure of its post-industrial future.

A Park I Admire

2008-04-02T19:29:00.009-07:00

I-5 Colonnade Bike Park
Seattle, WA

Not only does this park feature my greatest passion in life, mountain biking, but it does so in an urban context in a very challenging site underneath a mammoth piece of highway infrastructure. I love that the park content is user-generated and maintained, and that it unabashedly embraces a single-purpose program. So many public open spaces seem to equate unprogrammed, flexible space with high-quality design, but the result can often be generic and uninspiring (Think of the vast, empty lawns of most suburban neighborhood parks). Even the densest urban areas have leftover space from infrastructure or industrial residue for a park like this. If there's one thing this project teaches, it's that you don't need mountains or acres of pristine land to provide great recreation opportunities.

More info about the I-5 Colonnade Park.

If you like this, you'll probably like this other great example of a sport park in a reclaimed post-industrial landscape.

George Washington (Probably) Slept Here

2008-03-19T19:08:00.004-07:00

Studio exercise: Planning for growth in historic Concord, MA

Concord is a town of 17,000 located 18 miles northwest of Boston and within 30 minutes drive of downtown. Most famous for its role in the beginnings of the American Revolution and its litany of influential literary figures, Concord juggles its own historical identity with its modern place as a suburb of the rapidly growing Boston Metro area.

Under the fictitious Fair Growth & Development Act, Concord is expected to absorb 3,398 new residents by the year 2030. How do you add 20% population to a place that is very sensitive to change of any sort? What sort of housing typologies do you employ to accommodate the new residents? And where do you spatially distribute new development that inevitably has an effect on the visual landscape that residents prize so deeply? How can new growth enhance the existing built and natural environments, rather than detract from them?

In short, what happens when old, old suburbs mature?

Spontaneous Alpinism

2008-02-08T06:55:00.000-08:00

A walk to the grocery store this morning. 28˚ Farenheit, blowing snow, poor visibility. I opt for thinner gloves and a soft shell jacket, trading warmth for improved manual dexterity and wider range of shoulder motion necessary to wield four fully-loaded re-usable cloth grocery haversacks. Light and fast. No extra clothing or bivy gear in case of an unexpected encounter or conversation on the street. Speed is my greatest safety precaution.

Setting out from base camp, I see other parties and soloists returning. Most are heavily garbed and move with the syncopated gait of one beset with cold and fatigue. They do not even acknowledge me. I begin to question my choice of clothing and lack of face protection, but carry on.

Western Ave. The first landmark on my trip confirms that I am on route. The traffic signal is unexpectedly long, and I am forced to make mini—laps around the cramped curb to stay warm. Precious energy wasted.

River St. From here, my path diverges from the standard, well-marked Putnam St route. From this point on, retreat is very difficult. The blowing snow has welded my eyelids together, and I regret my lack of eye protection. But I feel strong and determined to obtain food for the weekend. I continue.

A series of tricky, labyrinthine side streets and one technical parking lot crossing. I can see
Trader Joes. I arrive safely. But this is not a one way race.

For the return journey, I have four full bags, two balanced on each shoulder. Now, I am glad I chose a soft shell jacket instead of the warmer, bulkier down. The slippery texture of the down jacket makes it very difficult to maintain friction with the shoulder straps of the grocery bags, whereas the soft shell material grips nicely.

The cold is biting as I emerge from the store for the descent. Tired, yet thrilled with my success, I set out. DANGER! Even in my half-complacent state, I am alert to a 6' X 14' ice patch in the parking lot. The only way around would add at least 6 minutes to my journey. Not an option. Without protective gear, I must rely solely on my abilities and experience. I cross the patch without incident.

Upon reaching River St, I feel great relief. The chances of a mishap now are slim. I prepare to cross the busy road, traversing to the well traveled and warmly familiar Putnam St.

I arrive home, numb from the air and from exertion. The expedition has been a success. Warming with a cup of lemon ginger tea, I massage my sore shoulders and reflect on the journey. Just a walk in the snow.

Vamos a la Playa

2008-01-28T08:15:00.003-08:00

I just got back from a week of surfing in Costa Rica with friends. Now that's a place where people have the work-life balance in proper proportion. Quite inspirational. Days were busy with surfing, napping, surfing more, looking for food, drinking Imperial ... lots to do. I could easily transform into one of those grizzled, tan gringos that went down there 30 years ago and never left. Danger!

Final Studio Project

2007-12-27T13:05:00.001-08:00

The final project for first semester studio is a series of plans for a light rail expansion of the Green Line in Somerville, MA. The plans range in scale from the entire rail corridor to an individual site. The ideas are fairly conventional, which makes sense since the overall goal of the project is to get familiar with representing space in 2 and 3 dimensional graphic language, and to become proficient in planning processes and systems. Overall, I'm happy with how it came out, but I'm looking forward to taking on some more creative and unconventional solutions in the next semester.

(Actual size: 50" X 30")

Dialogue: Herzog and Eisenman (and me)

2007-12-04T21:41:00.003-08:00

I attended a great presentation tonight featuring a discussion by architects Jacques Herzog and Peter Eisenman. The house was packed for these two high-profile architects, widely admired in the design world (and widely ignored by everyone else). The interaction was entertaining and lively. A couple of observations:

1. These men are very intelligent and abstract thinkers. Architecture is a highly nuanced and deep field, but also one that is rather bizarre and shrouded in jargon. I think that verbal language really struggles to express spatial concepts, and you could see these men bump up against a wall when trying to articulate their ideas. This comes across as arrogant grandiloquence to some, but really I think it's a frustration with a shortcoming of language.

2. While their architecture is very interesting, these guys have a long way to go to make their work accessible, much less comprehensible, to the general public. Architecture, and planning for that matter, need a PR makeover. We need to find a way to talk to people other than ourselves. Otherwise, design will continue to wallow in obscurity and remain largely irrelevant and undervalued by the rest of the world.

3. My favorite paraphrased quote of the night: Jacques Herzog describing the city as "a petrification of the psychologies of its inhabitants."

Ballin'

2007-10-31T16:45:00.000-07:00

Some sweet news from the GSD: We got a ping pong table in the lounge next to our studio. It's a really nice table too, with Asian writing on it. It's not quite the same as foosball, but now I have a new sport to devote myself to. One drawback is that people always put their food and models on it, and you have to clear stuff off every time you want to play.

One of the building maintenance guys boasted that he'd never lost to a student. So I challenged him. He beat me 21 to 6. But he promised a rematch once I get better. And I'm pretty sure I've got a decent chance of making the Olympic Team for Beijing '08 if I keep training.

Public Space in Davis Square

2007-10-18T06:40:00.000-07:00

Studio project #2
A study of the quality of the public realm in Davis Square.

Futon Haiku

2007-10-14T17:34:00.005-07:00

Sweet craigslist futon!
Delicious orange sitting spot—
Only sixty bucks.

The Glass Cube

2007-10-12T17:16:00.002-07:00

The tired aphorism is that being a student at the GSD is like trying to drink from a firehose. I think it's more like that old game show where people are placed in a glass cube and $100 bills are blown all around them, and they have 60 second to grab whatever they can. It's all there for the taking, but absorbing any of it is really difficult. And the harder you try, the more you miss.

Walk Score

2007-10-06T07:51:00.001-07:00

An interesting site that rates walkability of neighborhoods based on the distance of businesses and civic destinations from a given address using Google Maps data. As far as I can tell, it doesn't take into account the urban design and character of the streets (and I don't know how it would, since no such index exists), but is useful for finding fun places to go near home. Flawed, yes, but it makes an attempt to quantify the value of walkable communities, and this is a step that needs to be taken.

Go ahead. Give it a try.

Walk ScoreWidgetbox

9.17.07 - A Day in Photos

2007-09-17T19:46:00.002-07:00

My house.

This tall, dark tower is part of Mather House, home of Harvard undergraduates.

This tower, though rather cartoony, is an important visual landmark near Harvard Square. It's especially attractive at night. The building it sits upon also houses Harvard undergrads.

Note the brick sidewalks and granite curbs. Classy. Also bumpy.

One of my favorite houses on my walk. Cambridge is full of 3-story Victorians like this, pushed right up to the edge of the sidewalk. The scale makes for a very pleasant streetscape. Strange color choices, though.

Classic Cambridge pre-war brick apartment building with pocket courtyard.

Gund Hall, home of the GSD. The colorful, prickly tower poking up behind it is Memorial Hall. Classic New England university building, meet brutalism. Both are pretentious and over-the-top in their own ways, yet both are attractive and functional. I think I prefer Gund Hall as a space for everyday labor.

A studio desk very early in the semester. Note the unusual amount of unused surface space.

Min Young from Korea is super-stoked after a rousing economics lecture.

Ja, ve make ze lunch at ze chauhaus, ja.

What architecture school is like

2007-09-13T21:15:00.000-07:00


An email from Sarah, a first year architecture student
at UC Berkeley:

"I had a bike collision with a skunk on my way home last
night. The skunk seemed unharmed, but my bike is
very, very smelly. Also, I got nothing done yesterday
for my desk crit today. argh."


xo s

2007: Nomad

2007-08-23T13:19:00.001-07:00

The summer's nearly over, and it's time to move on. 2007 has been the most nomadic year of my life. To take the year and break down the time spent in various locales, it will look something like this:

Some things I've learned:

1. I really dig Latin America. 16% of a year is not enough. I'll be aiming for 50%-75% sometime in the next 4 years.

2. A 93-day NOLS course (I completed in 2001) is not only fantastic preparation for international climbing expeditions, but a great way to learn how to travel lightly and leave behind places you love.

3. Traveling to South America was a necessary buffer between working life and grad school. I'm ready now.

Welcomed Home by Swedish Furniture

2007-08-19T23:34:00.001-07:00

My trip back to the United States was smooth and uneventful, and I'm taking a cold turkey approach to dealing with the inevitable culture re-entry shock. Not even 48 hours after being back, I took off once again to the home of American culture, California. I'm here to help a friend move in to her new home and prepare to start architecture school at UC Berkeley.

After being in South America for nearly two months, I was prepared to be a little stunned by the turbulence of re-entering one culture after becoming accustomed to another. Overall, it's not been too bad, but I am even more bothered than usual by the sheer amount of space that American cities use for automobiles and automobile infrastructure, and by the huge, open and deserted feeling of the majority of the streets. If there is one sentence I can use to simplify the difference between the Latin American and United States' built environments, it's that Latin America is denser, louder, dirtier, more diverse and simply fuller.

Here in Berkeley, I feel a bit agoraphobic, because everything feels so spread out and over-scaled by comparison. But I also feel a comfort and simplicity that is absent from the chaotic streets of a big city like La Paz, where the intensity of excitement and unpredictability dominate the urban experience. Berkeley may be completely dominated by automobiles, but there is stability in that clear hierarchy.

It's probably not the best way to ease back into the old US & A, but we decided that a trip to the Swedish furniture chain IKEA was essential to the moving in process. I've never been to IKEA before and knew very little about it, apart from that it is wildly popular with money-starved students and many of my friends in their twenties. On the outside, IKEA looks no different from the usual American commercial dreck; a massive windowless box surrounded by a sea of parking lots, freeways and train tracks. Don't even try to think about getting there without a car.

But on the inside, I experienced something different. For better or worse, IKEA has invented a new form of retail that I think accounts for its popularity more than the quality of its designs or prices. The experience of shopping at IKEA (and I use the word 'experience' deliberately) takes the simplicity and ease of navigation of shopping online and transfers it to the physical world. Walking through this particular windowless box is like walking through a well-designed ecommerce web store. There are no salespeople, and visitors are free to browse the furniture in a stream-of-conscious romp. The same items are displayed many times in different parts of the store, and in all cases the visitor (user?) can walk right in to a display to touch, smell, feel, sit on, and fully experience the product. Here IKEA surpasses the online shopping experience by offering what it cannot; the ability to see the object in person. To purchase an item, a shopper uses the real-life equivalent of a mouse click. Each item is uniquely coded, and the buyer simply notes the SKU before proceeding to the "self-service warehouse" to claim the purchase. All items are minimally packaged and completely unassembled. At no point in the process does one encounter an employee of IKEA. In fact, it seems that the experience is engineered to render actual human contact as unnecessary as possible. I'm not sure if this is good or bad, but it's just so different from the business of commerce in Latin America, where everything is about the interaction between customer and vendor.

Lots of people like the IKEA model, at least judging by the crowds at the store this morning. I felt uneasy but adventurous the whole time, like a tourist. The experience was refreshingly different, and I have to admit some of the minimalist designs are really sharp (especially the chairs). Maybe I'll make a trip to the Boston IKEA when I move there next month to start grad school.

Sea Breezes and Salty Air

2007-08-13T13:08:00.002-07:00

For the past week, Sarah and I have been moving along an area of the South Coast of Ecuador known as the Ruta del Sol. It´s a stretch of about 200 km from Manta to the North to Salinas in the South with super-tranquil fishing villages, hammocks in every hostal, surf spots, and big tropical flora and fauna.

I really like the slow pace of life in the tropical beach towns. The constant overcast skies (Now is the off-season. There is more sun, surf and tourists in Jan.-April), exactly 12 hours of daylight and dark, and ubiquitous hammocks make this the most nap-inducing spot I´ve ever been to. Laziness just fills the air.

Montañita is a nice town with a reputation for being a surfer-party spot. But right now, it´s very quiet and tranquil. It´s a dense, compact place with a nice beach and a lot to do after dark. Ecuadorians and foreigners alike come here all year-round, and one of the main attractions has to be the delicious, fresh seafood and fruits.

I haven´t written a lot about food in South America, which is a shame. In general, I´ve been pretty pleased with what I´ve had to eat, although the staples of wintertime in Peru and Bolivia (meat and potatoes) had started to grow tiresome by the time I finished climbing and headed to Ecuador. Luckily, the food in Ecuador has completely rejuvinated me. Being essentially on the equator has big advantages as far as growing season goes - it basically doesn´t ever stop. So all the usual tropical fruits are abundant and cheap - pineapple, banana, passionfruit (my new favorite) and citrus of all sorts. Whereas produce in Peru and Bolivia this time of year consists largely of tubers and beans (albeit very good tubers, the likes of which are not available in the States), Ecuador is a giant year-round farmers market.

Baked goods are a staple of my diet here. Simple breads are served with just about every breakfast, and empanadas (stuffed pastry pillows with cheese, meat or vegetables) are a nearly daily snack. Food is very inexpensive, and even a fancy meal with wine and dessert rarely costs more than $10.

Breakfast is very simple, usually not much more than bread, coffee, and fresh fruit juice. A nice treat here in Ecuador is a large fruit salad with yogurt and granola.

Lunch is often the biggest meal of the day, and typically starts with soup of some sort. The main course is some type of meat (usually fish here on the Coast) accompanied by rice and potates. We´ve found that adding a ceviche appetizer with fried plantains to just about every lunch makes for a wonderful and cheap meal. Again, fresh fruit juice is my drink of choice.

Dinner is pretty varied, and in touristy towns like Montañita you can get just about anything from pizza to Chinese food. My favorite meals have been from the local ethnic restaurants (we found one particularly good Colombian restaurant in Puerto López), and there is surprisingly good Italian food to be found.

We´re coming close to the end of the trip, and spending the past week in sleepy tropical beach towns has been a good way to slow down time and prepare for the culture shock of re-entry into the States. Tomorrow we have a long bus ride to the sprawling metropolis of Guayaquil (Ecuador´s largest city), and leave for home on Wednesday.

On the Far Side of Ecuador

2007-08-11T13:59:00.000-07:00

For the past several days, Sarah and I have been hanging out in a super laid-back fishing village called Puerto López on the Ecuadorian Coast. High-speed internet is a thing of the future here, so no photos at this time. Everything moves slowly in Puerto López, and it´s a great place to laze about for a few days. The most action happens early in the morning, when the fishing boats and sell their catch right on the beach. There´s a lot of bird action as well - frigates, pelicans and the like - looking to cash in on the morning catch.

I´ve eaten ceviche at almost every meal since we arrived, and I´m not slowing down soon. It´s a good thing the seafood here is fresh and delicious, because it´s about the only choice for food. No complaints here. This time of year is very overcast and cool, so surf conditions are not very appealing. However, the main attraction to Puerto López in August is the humpback whales. The sea is full of whales right now off the Ecuadorian Coast. Literally, you can´t go out in a boat without bumping in to them. We hired a tour boat to take us to Isla de La Plata, an island about 90 minutes off the mainland. Along the way, we saw several groups of humpbacks jumping, breaching, and generally flapping around in the water. They love the warm, shallow Coast here this time of year, and seemed very happy.

Isla de la Plata is known as the ¨poor man´s Galápagos.¨ The rich man´s Galápagos was out of our price range for this trip (sadly, going to the Galápagos is shockingly expensive, but I hope to return someday when I am wealthier), so Isla de la Plata is a fine alternative. It´s protected as a National Park, and many of the same types of hearty sea birds live there that also inhabit the more famous Galápagos. There´s decent snorkeling as well.

Tomorrow we´re going to head about 50 km down the Coast to a town called Montañita, known for it´s reliable surf breaks (even in the offseason, ie now), more foreign and domestic tourists, and even better ceviche.

Concerning Ecuador

2007-08-05T18:01:00.000-07:00

I've been in Quito, Ecuador for a few days now, not doing a whole lot and enjoying the relative tranquility of this very modern city. Compared to Bolivia, Ecuador is very traveller friendly, and a great point to rest, recharge, and enjoy the sweet luxury of a world class bus system that actually runs on time (mostly), fresh organic produce, and, perhaps most amazingly, pedestrian friendly streets with actual crosswalks and traffic signals. Yet although it wore me down physically and mentally, part of me misses the absolute chaos and developing world unpredictability of La Paz and the mountains of Bolivia. Exhausting sometimes, but interesting always.

Quito contains some of the best and worst architecture I've ever seen. Incredible public plazas contain some of the most intricate and detailed Spanish colonial buildings in South America, and Quito's "old town" is one of the most attractive and pleasant places I've been to. But Quito also has some of the most monstrously awful 1960's era modernist cast concrete disasters I've ever seen. Mishapen, windowless lumps line the streets outside of the old town, and the rest of the city looks like a rotting pile of Disney tomorrowland castoffs. I'll try to take some pictures before I leave. It's really shocking.

Wow, this is really ugly

Sarah had some passport difficulties and arrived in Ecuador two days late, but I was exhausted from all the climbing and two days of travel so I didn't mind the extra time to rest. Today we did a climb of a volcano outside Quito called Guagua Pichincha. Nothing technical or too difficult, but a nice acclimitization hike and the views of Quito were impressive. We were originally planning to do some more climbing of the many glaciated volcanoes in Ecuador, but high winds and clouds are pretty much a constant this time of year, so instead we're going to stick to more mellow activities. Fine with me. My body has had enough high altitude for a while.

Tomorrow we're leaving Quito for Banos, and from there a number of hiking, trekking, and thermal hot spring soaking options await.

Forget All That Alpaca $#&!

2007-08-01T07:58:00.000-07:00

My sweet new llama-inspired track jacket

I found myself back in Cusco for a few hours on my way to Ecuador, and I took the opportunity to wander the streets one last time. Even though it is very tourist-oriented, Cusco remains a very pleasant place for aimless exploration around its ancient narrow streets, as long as you don´t mind being asked if you want a massage, would like to look at a menu, or want to buy some piece of who-knows-what Inca tourist junk every 4 seconds.

Naturally, the little shops and street vendors are full of alpaca-wear; llama fur hats, coats, shirts, bags - just about anything you want can be made out of llamas. I´m sure some of this stuff is high-quality, but I have an unreasonable aversion to the process of buying it because the industry is so driven by mindless tourists seeking a piece of the Andes. I try to avoid feeling like a tourist at all costs (even though that is precisely what I am), so I steer clear of the scene as much as possible, and just keep walking purposefully so as not to offer the slightest hint that I might be remotely interested in buying something (and thus be subjected to at least 5 minutes of the hard sell).

So, to my surprise, I stopped dead when I saw this jacket and knew I had to break my habits. Who needs authentic alpaca fur crap when you can have fútbol-inspired 100% tourist-driven retro sportswear? And for only about US$16. I´m not made of stone, after all.

Four Days of Illimani

2007-07-30T10:30:00.001-07:00

Illimani (21,125 feet). We climbed the right peak, which is the highest and least difficult.

Leaving La Paz at about 8 AM on Wednesday, we drove for approximately 5 hours on steep, windy gravel roads to reach the tiny village of Pinaya, situated below Illimani in a shadowed valley. From Pinaya, we loaded up the local horses with our gear and hiked about 2 hours to base camp (14,800 feet). Illimani´s base camp is by far the most scenic and pristine of all we´ve been to. It was warm and balmy in the late afternoon, and we went to sleep early intending to move to high camp the following morning.

The hike to base camp.

Instead, we woke up in the morning with about 4 inches of snow covering the camp. Snow is very unusual this time of year (winter being the dry season), and we later learned that it snowed a little bit in La Paz for the first time in over 20 years! Ascending the steep, loose rocky ridge to high camp in the snow would be next to impossible, and the porters wouldn´t go even if we wanted to, so we had an extra day to rest and play in base camp. Snow day!

Illimani base camp.

Snow!

The snow melted nicely on Thursday, and we were ready to move to high camp (17,800 feet) on Friday. The porters came up from Pinaya (the route to high camp is far too steep and rocky for horses or donkeys), and we set off at about 10 am. The cholo porters continue to impress beyond all expectations. Most of them carry heavy packs wrapped in blankets, often wearing no more than skirts and open toe sandals. Some could have lapped us twice on the hike up to high camp. They move like mountain goats across loose scree and steep, icy sideslopes. Many a climber and tourist has given them modern boots, trekking poles, backpacks to use, and each time the gift is gratefully accepted and promptly sold in La Paz so that the porter can go back to using the worn sandals and alpaca blankets they are accustomed to. Unfortunately, it´s difficult to take pictures of the porters in action, as many are fearful of cameras and prefer not to be photographed.

High camp is a dreary place compared to the lush meadow of base camp. It´s cramped, rocky and exposed. Not really a place to hang out except that it´s right at the base of the glacier and the only logical place to begin the climb. I slept surprisingly well that night despite the altitude, and we awoke to a bitter cold at 2 am to begin the climb.

I think it´s a universal truth that the harder and colder the climb, the fewer pictures taken. On Illimani, I rarely had the will to pull out the camera. We climbed for about 4 hours in the dark with our Bolivian guide Jesús, not stopping much at all to try to stay warm. Here, we had a few problems with cultural differences in climbing styles. While Jodi (my ropemate) and I both come from the NOLS school of mountaineering, (which can best be described as taking care of yourself and being as comfortable as possible to prevent future problems), Jesús is a much more new-school light and fast alpinist, meaning carrying little and stopping rarely, not even to eat, drink or change clothes. Speed is safety in this style of climbing, and there is certainly truth to that. So while Jesús was very patient with us, I could tell he was getting cold and irritated by our constant stops to eat, drink, pee, and add or remove layers of clothing. Nonetheless, we made good time and were only about 1,000 feet below the summit as the sun dawned.

While not as technical as the other climbs we did, Illimani was definitely the hardest. The most exciting moment was leaping across a rather big crevasse at about 20,500 feet - I imagined that the lack of oxygen somehow equaled a decrease in gravity as well and cleared with no problems. Once again, the most interesting (ie cold and scary) moments never seem to make it on film.

Finally, the last summit shot.

We reached the summit at about 9 am, and there was another party of Bolivians already there celebrating. One of the clients was so overcome with emotion that he was crying and hugging everyone on the summit. Apparently, he had achieved one of his major life goals. I was just happy to have a chance to sit down for a bit and eat a candy bar.

Ordinarily, it´s possible to see bits of the wreckage from the Eastern Airlines flight that crashed on Illimani on New Year´s Day in 1985, but because of the recent snow everything was covered. Still, I was able to see the crash site and appreciate what a harsh and beautiful place it was.

Moon rise over Illimani. It was nearly full.

We returned to high camp at 2 pm, and eventually all the way back to Pinaya at about 7 pm. It was a very difficult day, but absolutely worth it. Even though Illimani is visible clearly from La Paz (much like Mt Hood looms over Portland), the 3-day minimum trip to the mountain felt about as remote as any place I´ve ever been.

Now I´m happy to be back in La Paz, breathing the sweet (though incredibly polluted) low-altitude air.