2014 in Pix

Big feet

It has become a yearly "thing" I guess.  For photographers, it's not uncommon.  We look back and try and pick out our best work- "the best of two thousand...whatever."  That's never worked quite right for me.  I mean, one is supposed to find the very best work I've done...all year.  But, by what standard?  What is technically great?  A perfect composition?  Subject?  Yeah-that's supposed to be how it works but sometimes I can't pass by a picture that I just plain like.  So I try to live by another slightly different credo: "I take pictures of things I like and I like these pictures. I hope the viewer likes these."  If not, that's okay...they're published here for lots of reasons.  I'm asked from time to time what I photograph.  "Hmmm, people, places, things." That covers pretty much everything I guess and no apologies for that.

So these are kinda chronological-some months maybe just one, others, like April, seemed to be flooded with photos I liked.  The intro one was and an early excursion after hip surgery-something that would define this year, or at least the first part of it.  It's just a flooded ditch, the result of a frozen collapsed culvert at the end of the driveway. It would end up costing over a grand later in the year to fix.  Glad I didn't know that at the time and was content to march around on the ice in snowshoes.

Two Thousand Fourteen in pictures:

Frosty Molly

Molly is pretty photogenic.  Her pure joy at bombing thru the snow (which we had plenty of in February) is unbounded and every once and a while, she'd plow through the snow back to me just to be sure I was following along.

*****

What follows are a series of photos taken one wet snowy morning.  School was called off-the dumping making bus delivery of students a bit touch and go.  I love those days (of course). First thing I do is hop in the truck and go somewhere.  These are mostly from the Town of Hewett where the truck finds it's self driving around the most.  I know these roads well.  They can be dry and dusty, wet and sloppy or snow covered and beautiful.  I know-that's a matter of opinion but it's rural life.

Sydney Road

Maple Road

South Mound Road

Ermine and Fatbike Tracks

The fatbike has changed how I spend winter-for better or worse.  I consider(d) myself a diehard XC skiier, and enjoyed the change of sport seasons.  But... fatbikes are too damn fun.  They get me places I can't ski and opens the door to more exploring.  This pic represents two things I love to do-riding and tracking-trying to decipher what the animal is telling me in the sentiences of their steps.

*****

Immature Eagle

A neighbor had up to 15 eagles in a field this spring-an event I couldn't pass up.  Camo tent was hidden and early morning before work excursions were taken to try to get some decent shots.  I think I fired 300 or 400 at least.  Of all, this was my favorite.  The birch and the moddled feathers seem to work well.

*****

Arndt Road Cranes

Pairs of Sandhill cranes seem to always pick the 'hood here and try and take up a home.  Some succeed-others lose their precious colts to mother nature-she always holds the trump cards.  In any regard, I love their return and try to keep tabs on which pairs stay in the land nearby.  These two were not successful in raising any young, but hopefully they'll return next spring and try again.

*****

Gander over frog Pond

Spring brings back waterfowl-even to lowly Clark County-not exactly the hotbed of duck habitat.  Down the road is a small waterfowl scrape and any ducks who spy it, seem to make it a home for at least a day or two.  The woodies stay longer and usually one pair of geese raise goslings there, so they provide some opportunities for a few fun shots. This is a bit "artsy" but it works for me.

 *****

Capt. Kris and John

So this falls under " a picture tells a story" category.  Kris started up his own charter fishing business (Northpoint Sport Fishing) and invited my friend John and I out for some early coho fishing to give the boat a shake down cruise. Kris knows his stuff and we did very well on the silvery fish.  What's funny to me here is that John knows more about fishing than about anyone, yet  big deep lake fishing is out of his element. A few pointers here by the captain seem to be saying "you turn this handle thingy and then the fish comes in!"  Funny to me anyway...

*****

Patterns in the Forest

This is more for me.  I love flying and when up in a small small plane, one sees a world we're unaware of when traveling at ground level.  I had another opportunity to tag along on a radio telemetry flight with DNR pilot Beverly Paulan in search of collared wolves.  So far for me, that score card has remained empty, but no matter-I'm amazed by how the forest, swamps and marshes look from above.  I just don't tire of this view.

*****

Porcupine Mountains Deep Forest

I've made some forays to the Porcupine Mountains and just a little taste on it's edges, but never deep into them.  Friends Mark Haferman and Dave Borman and I dove in last summer-maybe at the worst possible time.  I'll just say bugs.  But, we still saw beauty, had adventure, hiked through places unlike anywhere else in the Midwest.  Towering Hemlock forests just humble me and I'll need to get back here again.

*****

Sturtz Prairie Morning

A native prairie is a pretty amazing place in the summer-one could drive by at 50 mph and miss everything there and not give it a second thought.  Taking a stroll though it however, opens a door to what so much of Wisconsin once looked like-a hundred or more years ago.  I'm fortunate to befriend folks that believe this matters and these places matter.

*****

Bowles Lake Steam

Sometimes I have to force myself to shoot-or at least shoot things I usually don't.  That's not to say wading into cold water at sunrise is something I'd avoid, but necessity is the mother of...you know.  I try to take a photography class each summer just to jump start "seeing" pictures.  What the class is on is less important that just doing it as they say.  Friend Mitch Mode offered me housing in his rustic off the grid cabin which facilitated a 5:00am dip in the cold lake each morning.  Grogginess disappears instantly.   On this daybreak, the camera came along for the swim.

*****

Pods

I like boats-riding on them, fishing from them and making pictures of them.  Tugs are the under appreciated vessels of the ship world it seems.  This little guy was anchored in the Fox River just off Green Bay awaiting to flex some muscle and tackle his next job.

*****

Bikes Planes beer and Buddys

For me again-just a reminder of Gnomefest and good times with wings and wheels and friends.

*****

Famous Molly

This shot seemed to be pinned to the top of the Wisconsin Outdoor Fun web site all fall on the picture page.  Not that I minded-she's my girl!  Taken after a successful retrieve on the "USA pond" in Lehr North Dakota.  She's in her element here.

*****

Duk Love

There is something only duck hunters will understand-the great satisfaction of getting the decoys out, hunkering down and waiting for the first whistling wings overhead.  No one else will get it and the pink sunrise is just a bonus.

*****

Selfie with Black Lab

Bean field, North Dakota.  A little break from the potholes to see if the dog and I can prod any pheasants or sharptails in the air.

 *****

The Stand

Gun hunting is so much less about getting a deer and more about just being out there.  There is nothing like the pre-dawn hour, in the cold but not being cold-the optimism ahead and knowing there are hours of quiet time to look forward to in the stand.

"I take pictures of things I think are cool. I think these pictures are cool, I hope the viewer thinks they are cool too. Cool?" - See more at: http://on-theedge.blogspot.com/#sthash.L3B2ujan.dpuf

"I take pictures of things I think are cool. I think these pictures are cool, I hope the viewer thinks they are cool too. Cool?" - See more at: http://on-theedge.blogspot.com/#sthash.L3B2ujan.dpuf

"I take pictures of things I think are cool. I think these pictures are cool, I hope the viewer thinks they are cool too. Cool?" - See more at: http://on-theedge.blogspot.com/#sthash.L3B2ujan.dpuf

Coup de grâce Ride

Coup de grâce Ride

The phrase can refer to the final event that causes a figurative death. After a winter that held all of us so tightly without reprieve, a day in the mid fifties would finally be it's end. Anticipating the season's impending passing, fatbikes would have to roll early to catch that small window of riding opportunity. Temps barely dipped below freezing overnight, but enough to firm the remaining snow and allow the big tires to float on top. A week previous, we could ride the crust everywhere, but the power of the late March sun ate away the surface integrity and now we were left with just ribbons of ice and snow on singletrack. Which is okay too.

It's been a long winter to be sure-record cold and snow and no typical thaw at any point. Our snowbike trails held up great and afforded us a lot of riding, even in below zero temps. In fact, at those cold temperatures, riding was preferred over skiing, where glide would be non existent. This year has really seen the sport of fatbiking explode and more and more riding opportunities are popping up around the state. The Midwest has been called the “Fatbike Mecca” in some national publications and I agree. That fact was illustrated in how many different brands were represented on this final winter ride- six manufacturers toed the starting line- defiantly mainstream now.

Even at an early hour, it seemed the sun immediately started softening the snow-especially on the south side of Levis Mound. Scattered oak leaves soak up the heat and burn postholes in the trail making for a bumpy ride even on big soft tires. Any thought of an nice easy spin was gone as our gang of ten mashed the pedals just to move forward. Switching from singletrack to an old ski trail made pedaling a bit easier until reaching an incline facing the sun-then I found it a challenge to keep traction and the lungs in my chest.

A freshly groomed skate ski trail still remained hard, so that provided an autobahn stretch to click off a few miles to a more shaded bike trail. Our favorite winter trail is Yellowjacket and on this day, some of it was buffed smooth and fast, others a grinder as the surface gave way to the warming sunshine. At the tail end, we gave up, left the struggling behind and finished the ride on the deserted ski trail.

In the end it was perfect, the chatter among friends resumed as we rode in close quarters finally spinning easily. As deemed appropriate, the group finished with one last climb and a blistering frost flying downhill race to the chalet. The consummate end of a great snowbike season. The post ride discussion revolved around the new bikes laying scattered in the parking lot, of brakes and fat tires and of maybe finally riding dirt again soon. I wasn't as keen on the last topic for I love winter riding. I love the pure white around me and the quiet and softness when I hit the perfect day of riding. There was a bit of melancholy when I hoisted the bike into the truck, knowing it'd be 9 months until we had this chance again. It felt like we truly did put the winter to bed and I'm glad I could share the day with so many new and old friends and look forward to the chance to do it all again.

Crust Biking

The holy grail of cross country skiers-skate skiers, are the few rare days, sometimes just hours…..each spring known as “Crust Skiing.”  Until this “spring” I’d never considered that as something any other sport might long for.  I was wrong.  Enter “Crust Biking”. 

Mother nature needs her ducks in a row for crust skiing (or biking) to take place- warm, sun high in the sky spring days followed by a crash of temperatures during the overnight hours.  The colder the better for the crust will reach deeper into the snow surface providing a stronger lid on the snow pack.  For skiing, one can skate by (pun intended) with a slightly thinner surface, but as I found out for a fatbike, conditions need to be perfect.  Since the cross country crowds at Levis Mound have quietly abandoned skiing for the season, I decided to veer off our packed singletrack and do a trail “inspection” of the ski loops.  The previous day had been sunny and warm-almost 50 and the cold temps overnight produced boilerplate ski trails which barely noticed the fat tires skimming along on top.

It was the easiest pedaling of the year to be sure-almost no resistance except for the low pressures in the tires.  Deep, frozen slush deer, wolf and coyote tracks were a reminder of the previous day’s warmth and springs' return.  This base wouldn’t last long. Approaching an ungroomed trail, the thought started to wander into my head if it might be possible to ride unpacked snow-like I’ve always done crust skiing.  Would the crust be strong enough?  Would the tires have enough low ground pressure to keep me on top?  Without another thought, I turned onto the pure unblemished snow....and didn’t go a$$ over teakettle! I could hardly believe it was possible to do this-yet another vein of riding to chalk up to the fatbikes!  Floating along almost silently on this shell of snow made me feel like I could explore anywhere now.  Well, almost anywhere.  Suddenly I hit a spot when the sun hadn’t quite reached the day before and instantly both wheels dropped through.  I was stuck, still in the pedals sitting vertically…motionless. Hmmmm, dismounting, and pulling the tires free I moved down the trail and found a stronger crust to continue on.  Soon, one learns which snow will provide the strength and where to avoid.  There are subtle nuances in the seemingly uniform snow pack.  Places that angle toward the sun will be great, shady corners, out of the reach of the sun, will not work and one will be punching through constantly.

Discovering that there was such a thing as crust biking set me off in search of other suitable snow.  Large clear cuts should provide the proper mixture and I headed off toward several in the Levis Mound area.  It was crazy to be riding along anywhere in those spots-free to explore terrain we never venture into.  Swampy wet areas were perfect-they were still frozen and the snow crust covering perfect to ride on.  I know this land well, but “crusting” opened so much more territory….temporarily.

As much joy as I was having this morning-it would end all to soon.  By late morning, the sun already was high and the tires rolling on the surface started to make a different sound-almost like the snow was groaning unto the weight of bike and it’s peddler.  Cracking the surface with more frequency eventually forced me back to our singletrack-there the riding was still rock solid.  My window of crust biking was over for the day.

Looking at the forecast, I may have one or two more chances at the new form of fatbiking-just maybe.  Rain was moving in, which would really make a good crust, as long as cold overnight temps get mixed in.  If so, I’ll be back out, full grin on my face and taking advantage of a new found freedom on a fatbike.

Racing?

It’s been nearly a week since my both-footed jump back into mountain bike racing. “Racing?” Okay, well racing is like when it’s you against the other riders in the race-right? Point to point events are more like that, or maybe the weekend WORS races, but for me, in an endurance race, it was more survival in a way. Oh, nothing so dramatic- I would make it, and I’d live to ride another day, but an endurance event like the “Wausau 24” does have a much different feeling that a “normal race.”
We did have a four man team for the 12 hour fat bike -that sounded like fun, but a lack of other teams within that category forced a shuffle of our assets (riders) into 2 two man fatbike teams. That little change meant twice as many laps (as I planned) and guaranteed very little rest from 10:00am to 10:00pm. “Okay…I can do this”- besides, it means I’m done in the evening and can enjoy some welcome beverages with my team mates, not like the 24 hour folks who’ll be pounding the pedals all night into the following day.

Bike riders are not runners…there is a reason for that, but endurance races typically use a Le Man start-riders running a short distance in stiff bike shoes, usually getting passed by 12 year old twig girls, find their bikes and then are off, turning pedals instead and headed for singletrack. My partner Joe, being younger “volunteered” to start the race for us (whew…dodged a bullet there) and was soon engulfed in a cloud of dust threading his way though the field on lap one. We all had pre-ridden a lap the day before, and the Wausau 24 is a worthy course by mountain (and fatbike) standards. Plenty of singletrack and rock gardens, some double track to spin the legs out and a very tough climb about halfway through.

The butterflies gathering in the gut I remembered from years ago as I stood anxiously waiting in the transition area for Joe to return. We’d guessed around an hour + per lap, so about on cue, the new highly fashionable black “fat hyphen dot com” jersey appeared over the finishing rise and with a swift tag, I was off for my turn. Long distance racing plays funny games with your brain-and early in an event, ones mind is going much faster than the bike usually. “Oh-there’s a guy right ahead…I’m faster and will pull him in here soon.” Sometimes that plays out, sometimes they disappear over the next climb never to be seen again. Since everyone is in this thing for the long haul, there is a much more civil discourse out on the trail than in other events-if someone catches you, most are happy to pull over and let them pass, with a “go get ‘em!” and a “thanks bud!” as they go by and out of sight. For us on big bikes, we might also hear “Alright !-rock on fatties!” (talking about the bike, not us).

I ended up, as Joe mentioned I would, counting down the laps in my head. Yeah, we’d do five or six laps out here, so the game became one of checking off each section of memorable trail-“Only 4 more times thru this boulder field.” Or only 2 more “Ho Chi Min da*m climbs!” Traffic sorts itself out after a few laps and it becomes quieter out there. The 24 hour solos are a sick breed, and would fly by with nary a word…I didn’t find that stuck up at all-they are just seriously focused or in a tiny world of survival, and I swear rarely notice other racers as they carve lap after lap. In the dark hours, it really becomes silent, the six hour racers are gone, so one usually has a lot of alone time.

Binking red LED lights appear in the darkness as other riders thread the trail ahead, and occasionally the ground around my bike would be lit up by an overtaking racer. A very surreal world. The only sound is gear changes and breathing and saying to myself- “only one lap to go.” Survival in these races isn’t always the pedaling part, but also that hour break between laps. You have to eat and have to drink and very quickly energy bars, bananas and Gu packs become a sickening necessity to pound down your gullet to make it though the next lap. A new mind game creeps in at that point-the “real food” one….where all I could think of is a burger or brat and cold beer. For now however, it was just working out during the first half of each lap, all the so-called “energy” sloshing around inside. Yuck.

As it ended up, our other 4 man teammates, Andy and Butch (who are bike animals-one of them on a singlespeed!) were a lap or two up on Joe and I and we had a 45 minute lead on 3rd place, so using our very best race delirious math skills, we’d determined that I’d not have to venture out for another lap nearing the 10:00pm finish time. At 10:01, Joe and a tide of another racers crossed the line to conclude the event. We’d keep our second place and represented the fat bike scene very well. The bikes handled this course superbly, slinging around tight twisty singletrack with ease and only the climbing sections hindering (me) during the laps. For myself, the event wasn’t so much about racing other riders- sure, we wanted to finish on the podium if we could to represent the fat bike category, but it was about fun, about pushing oneself (cliché, I know), but mostly about spending a weekend with friends and riding-riding with great effort and living to tell about it, to laugh about about it and be humbled by it-I may just have to do this all again!

The First...Sweaty Yeti

Riding a race bike is an art - a thing that you do because you feel something inside.  -Valentino Rossi

Randy & Chris Hot Lapping

I had decided a few years ago never to run a race again.  After 14 years of being the race director of the Buzzard Buster mountain bike race, and with no one getting seriously hurt or killed... or sued-it was time to retire.   Figured I should count my blessings and call it a career.  Then...these fat bikes slowly appear on the scene and a whole different "race" mentality comes along.  The fun factor was back in full force and it was clear it'd be the only way I'd step back into that race directors chair. It had to be that kind of fun with sans the seriousness.

The race is On

The concept of racing (these new) fat bikes...in winter, on snow, is in itself a insanely fun idea.  Conditions could be anything-bitter cold, deep sloggy snow or a perfect softly falling snowflake rock hard race course day-like we had. The plan was hatched this past fall at Gnomefest, realizing that at Levis Mound we had the perfect venue to run this kind of event.  A warm chalet, singletrack and ski trail and start field right out the door and if conditions changed, the equipment to handle it if needed.  Fat-Bike guru Gomez had set a standard of pioneering snowbike races to the south, with bike sharing and a team format (not many own a fatbike!) Besides, it was an opportunity to show off the trail a little to anyone who maybe hadn't been to Levis before. 

Fatty Lumpkin's Wheels making the Rounds

  At the starting line (for the Le Mans start) there's quite a mixed bag of racers from rail thin super fit  to others who just love to ride with a couple friends all day (or who are recruited last minute to form a team).  There is a fair amount of pre-race joking, deciding who's bike to use or team to join draft style and "hydrating" by racers and spectators alike (which numbered about the same). There would be some serious pedal crunching by the elites, but the enjoyment of the ride would not be lost for anyone during the next three hours.  

I do like this bunch of people.  They are the friendliest of folks to be around and any pretentiousness that one might have to wade through in other racing, is not to be found here... or in them.  I raced for a long time- ski and mountain bike, and made many friendships along the way.  But in the past year or so, while attending Gnomefest and now this fat bike scene I'm enjoying this side as well.  It's introduced me to a whole new group of people that aren't afraid to ride hard, then sit down and share a few beers and talk bikes, where they're from, and what we share a passion for.  In this inaugural Sweaty Yeti, I got sucked in by them and switched from a directors hat to pull on a helmet to give it a go.  The years of racing were buried inside somewhere, and though I tired my best, the lack of fitness made the laps hurt!  No matter, I rode within myself on the later laps, enjoyed the ride and knew the post race would be worth it.

In the end, the victors were crowned (with some sweet funky hats) and the "Most Fun Team" awarded, and prizes to just about everyone else, thanks to Sand Creek Brewery and our other sponsors.  The riders seemed to think the day went well, was fun and were appreciative. I guess that's all a race director can ask for.   The Yeti raised funds for the trail and maybe real grooming equipment down the road (I don't think this is a fad). Some riders headed out while others stayed to hang out around the fire long into the night. The snow then kicked up a notch as to signal a good ending to the day with good people and I could only agree.