Sweetwater

January 24, 2025

Spoiler Alert: this is a Bad Story Day

Today is a big day, the one when Rachael takes her bike in to Fair Wheel Bikes for its overhaul. It’s great news that all the parts came in sooner than expected, because as we realized on yesterday’s ride to have lunch with Kelly and her friend Jan, her bike really does need a lot of work.

So it’s an obvious setup for us to each do our own thing. My plan going in is to bike down with her to Fair Wheel both to make sure she gets there safely, but also so we can stop along the way at the Urgent Care clinic just a few blocks away. I’m stopping there to ask them if they’re a place that I could schedule a blood draw for my rheumatologist, something I just learned I’m due for. I would have contacted them in advance, but this particular Urgent Care is a member of one of those damn chains where it is impossible to contact them. There’s no phone, there’s no email, there’s no fax for the specific facility, and your only option is to make an appointment, show up for it, and pay for it.

I really hate places like that. Don’t you? Well, that’s not true. I don’t really hate them. Hate is such a powerful word, one that should be used sparingly. It’s not like love, where the more that’s strewn around the better. I love Tucson, I love my bicycles, both of them. I love the fact that Alaska Airlines offers nonstop flights from Portland to Tucson amd to SLO, another place I love. And I love a good story, even or maybe especially when it’s a bad story. And I really, really love my partner. It’s all good.

So let’s just say I intensely dislike places like this. The billionaire owner of the chain though? Now we’re getting there. Or how about the multimegabillionaires that own and are trashing before your eyes your favorite newspaper, or the owners of social media companies. I can’t say I hate any physical object, as frustrating as my encounters with many of them are. But people? Yes, a few names come to mind pretty quickly. That’s what hate is for. And I can’t say I have it in me to appreciate their uniqueness and the personal story that made them the way they are. I just think the world would be a better place with fewer hateful folks in it. I’ve got a special place in mind for folks like that.

So my planned outing going in is a multimodal trip (bike and walk) out to Sweetwater and back, one with a birding stop and also a business stop. Well, actually a second business stop and a third transportation modes because at the end of the day I plan to take the streetcar downtown to the Hub on another nonalcoholic beer outing.

While I’m waiting around until its time to leave, I pull up my indoor script and the birding script to ready myself by reminding myself of what I need to take with me on my birding stop, and of how to behave when I’m at the refuge. I’d have pulled up a business stop script to review also, but unfortunately that script hadn’t been imagined or created yet. I sure wish it had though, because by the end of the day it’s obvious how critical it is! The lack of a well thought out business stop script would have spared Rocky and I both of the chaos lying ahead. Definitely a Bad Story Day.

On the upside, the day’s experience gave plenty of material for inventing and developing this script.

Anyway. Its less than six miles by bike to Sweetwater, so leaving this early in the morning there’s no potential that I’ll be out too late to bike safely after dark (another spoiler alert: there’s always the potential to be out that late. Shit just happens. Unexpected events are a prime contributor to Bad Story Days.)

Six miles is short enough that I decide to leave the biking shoes at home today. I pop the Canon in the rucksack, load everything else on my person, wheel myself and the bike out the door at one time with every essential item either in my rucksack or inside my shirt pocket or on my head all at the same time, where I wait for Rocky to do the same.

Although one hasn’t been created yet, we’ll soon also have an indoor script for Rocky too; but for now she’s stuck with reviewing the one taped to the front door, supplemented with some reminders I add in. Her issue today really though is that she has a more complex outing than mine: two methods of transportation of course, but one with at least two and if she’s lucky three business stops. Her plan is to drop off her bike and then hike from there up to the top of Tumamoc Hill, stopping at Safeway on the way back. So, two business stops for sure: one at Fair Wheel to drop off her bike and one to go grocery shopping.

Finally we’re both outside. I lock the door behind us, pocket the key in my inner bike shirt, and we’re both finally off script and good to go.

First business stop: the Urgent Care Center

Nothing too interesting to say here. We stop off on the way to Fair View to see if they performed blood tests. Rachael stands outside watching the bikes while I dash inside for a quick ask. It isn’t a quick ask though. It’s more like a 5 or 10 minute stop, with all but the last 20 seconds spent waiting at an empty counter hoping someone actually is on duty this morning.

It’s a successful stop rhough, in the sense that now I know they don’t do this sort of work here. I make a mental note to myself to call rhe hospital later.

Second Business Stop: Fair Wheel Bikes

Unlike at the Urgent Care center, the stop at the bike store is an unqualified success. The shop is stil nearly empty when we wheel the bikes in and walk them to the service department at the back. We’re greeted immediately, and while the lead mechanic talks us through the plan for the day one of his assistants has already hoisted Rachael’s bike up on a nearby bike stand. They’ d just been waiting for me to show up with the last missing component, the new freewheel I brought in from our storage unit, where it’s been since Covid and we bought up the only two for sale on the west coast during the Covid component crunch. Fortunately I got this one right, having loaded the cluster to my rucksack last night so it wouldn’t get forgotten this morning.

It’s even better than that though, because they have everything now - including two new Schwalbe Marathon tires. Just two days ago they were unable to get them in time because the tires were trapped on the east coast by an ice storm. I’m delighted to be spared the task of installing them myself once they do arrive, a task I find more unpleasant than some because they’re such a tight fit.

We’re still not quite done yet though because our visit this morning includes a small shopping spree. Rachael needs a new mirror to replace the one that got snapped off at the stem in her fall yesterday, and she finds one that looks attractive: a smaller, stemless curved one that gets taken back to the service department for them to install.

Also though we’re looking for new gloves for her to replace one that maddeningly somehow has gone missing. She finds a pair she likes, as well as a second pair of cycling socks she needs. So she’s all set.

And so am I, because while she’s been shopping for herself I’ve been browsing the clothes racks for a new bike shirt, preferably one branded to Tucson and this shop, one more place down here I love. It looks terrific, I’m excited to try it out on the road, so look for it to make an appearance soon in a video near you.

Birding Stop: Sweetwater Refuge

It’s nearly eleven when I wheel out the door and start west toward the Santa Cruz, planning to cross over on the Cushing Street Bridge and then bike north and down the Santa Cruz to Sweetwater. The refuge is only around six miles away and I’ve no commitments other than sundown boxing me in later in the day, so time is not a worry at this point.

Still, it’s pretty wasteful of me to toss an hour of my window down the hole by swinging by the apartment to drop off Rachael’s helmet and the other items we picked up at the bike store. And once I’m home I remember I didn’t finish breakfast earlier so I do that now and then sit around for another hour waiting for nature.

So it’s really closer to noon once I get started. With nearly five hours left in the day to fit in a 12 mile bike ride and a few hours of birding at the refuge, there’s no reason to think I’m at risk of getting trapped out after dark (heh, heh).

I arrive at the refuge around 12:30 and start making the rounds. Finally! Let’s look at some birds! My first actions when I arrive are to swap glasses, because my visual acuity is so much better with the prescription ones on; and I pull the Canon out of the rucksack and strap it around my neck.

When I’m in a spot where biking is permitted in the refuge (generally, when on pavement) I carry it with the camera flipped behind me where it’s well protected and won’t bang against the handlebars. But when I’m walking or at a full stop I’ll flip it to the front, ready to aim and fire.

This is going to be great! For the first time in my life I’ve got the competitive advantage over the birds. My sight distance is greater than their fright distance.

My first thought was to organize this section by camera type and treating it more or less as a final camera review. Now that I’m done though, there’s no point. The phone is always essential for multiple reasons and is probably the most essential item I’m carrying; and in unusual situations it will even enable the spotting of a new bird I’d miss otherwise. But if you’re hoping for a really good shot of a bird that reveals its details and some character, the Canon is the only choice. So both are needed for what they’re best at. End of camera review.

Instead, I decided to organize the photos by outcome: new birds of the year, better shots of previously seen birds, and photos where birds are not the primary subject matter.

New birds of the year

Unless noted otherwise, birds in this section are by default shot with the Canon.

#75: Red-winged blackbird. Shot with the phone, but in a different scenario. I’ve regularly seen reports of hundreds of red-winged blackbirds out at Sweetwater but have yet to see or hear even one, even though this is a bird song I know well. As it happens, these are like Portland’s crows. They have roosting trees they congregate to at sundown and disperse at dawn. During the day they’re all distributed throughout the county, not here.

#77: Lapland Longspur. A lifetime first, and a good example of the Canon’s power when combining its zoom with its burst speed. In this situation I was in the refuge walking along a trail with brush on both sides. Every so often a bird I didn’t recognize would suddenly appear on one side of the path, zip across the ten or fifteen foot clearing, and then immediately disappear in the brush on the other side. To capture these images I refocused the zoom on an appropriate distance, animed, and waited. Every time I saw a bird appear on one side I just started shooting in burst mode, hoping for the best. It took maybe a dozen attempts in five or ten minutes, but I’d never have gotten this shot otherwise. Note that the top one even captures the bird’s shadow on the ground.

Improved shots

These are new, higher quality images of previously seen birds.Unless noted otherwise, these were also by default shot with the Canon.

An American coot, for Jen Grumby who has a thing about big feet for some reason.

Ruddy duck. I have no trouble identifying ruddy ducks at great distance, because their stubby tail stands erect like a rudder. In fact, I’m not sure I didn’t think that’s where they got their name because the tail looks a little like a rudder lifted up out of the water. I think this is the first time I’ve realized that they’re named for their color.

Mourning and Whire-winged doves. Wow, isn’t this great of the two together? Look at all those heads and tails!

Northern rough-winged swallow. This one was previously identified because I recognize the identifying indicators of the bird. I didn’t take a shot though, because it’s about impossible to get any kind of shot if a flying swallow. I just hoped I’d see this bird at rest some day, like you will with barn swallows. This one was shot at the same place, time and technique as the Lapland Longspur shot above. It took me a few minutes observing them before I realized I was seeing multiple species flying across the gap.

Other shots

This includes any shot where a bird is not the primary subject, generally landscape images. By default, these are all shot with the phone unless noted otherwise.

Another one shot from the refuge with the Canon, while standing around watching birds dash across rhe gap. No birds of the nontechnical type, but i wanted to capture enough detail so that our resident vintage plane guy could identify it.

Before continuing, let’s stop and look at the layout of the refuge. It’s not a large place, but it’s surprisingly complex. And from a birding perspective it’s surprisingly rich with almost every inch of it worth exploring because there are so many micro habitats with different characteristics that attract different birds. And since I’m here and have the afternoon available I want to see it all.

But I don’t need to see parts of it twice. Look at that little loop that looks like a kidney bean on the left, and notice that I looped it twice because I didn’t have the layout in my head for where you branch off to the left st the top. So there goes another hour of the time box, and I’m surprised when I realize I’m standing at the same spot I was an hour earlier.

So finally I’m done. I’ve hung around long enough to watch the red-winged blackbirds congregate, and taken enough shots so that I’ve killed the battery in the Canon. Time to head home. And at this point I think I’m still fine. It looks like I’ll be back by sundown, which is around six. I check the map and then call Rachael, who is already starting to worry about me because I’ve shut off the Garmin when I entered the refuge to silence it and then didn’t think to start it up again when I left it - so she hasn’t been able to track me for the last four or five hours and has no idea where I am.

The map tells me though that I’m only three miles from home and should be there in around twenty minutes.

On the Loop, southbound, not far north of the Grant Street underpass. At this point I’m at most four miles from home. For a few minutes it’s radiant to the south and west, so I stop for several shots.

Straight south, a view of Tumamoc Hill, the peak Rachael climbed earlier today.

One more shot. With the Grant Street underpass straight ahead, I’m still fine for time. I know it’s getting late though so I check the map for an arrival time estimate and called Rachael to let her know I’d be home in 20 minutes, at around 6:00.

And now, let’s see how those three miles in twenty minutes evolves into an hour and a half and a very slow four mile walk in the dark, filled with one navigational error after another that causes me to walk in the wrong direction, double back, overshoot home, double back. Three things contribute to this catastrophe:

Darkness happens. Suddenly I really am blind, and there’s no choice but to dismount and walk the rest of the way. This creates many serious problems.

I’ve mapped to the wrong destination, because our apartment isn’t marked as a location on the phone and I don’t know the address so I can navigate to it. Instead I pick a hotel a block away, but for the next hour the map will keep steering me in the wrong direction because it doesn’t know my real destination.
A train happens.

I’m not going to detail out how truly horrible this hour is for both of us. By the time I finally make it home Rachael is frantic with worry, and I’m an absolute wreck. My shin splints and knees hurt so badly that once I can finally see where I’m going I almost can’t stand to walk the final two blocks. I think I must stop and audibly groan a half dozen times before finally reaching the gate. It’s bad.

On the plus side though, what a rich learning opportunity! I come home with at least half a dozen different lessons learned to add to the script so this never, ever happens to us again.

Thank god it’s heading west and screaming out of town at 60+ mph. If it had been an easterner I might still be out there.

Throughout the whole day I had in mind to head out on a nonalcoholic beer quest when I got home. Originally I’d planned on the Hub downtown, but then lowered my sights and planned on the shorter trip to Time Market. By the time I made it home I’m such a wreck that stepping out the door again is out of the question. I’m shaking with cold, and starving, and can barely walk. It’s all I can do to crack a beer and know on a hunk of cheese.

And, there’s one last near disaster that would really tie of an epically bad day when I go to the bathroom. When I’m done and stand up the phone drops out of my pocket , lands on the seat of the toilet, and I gasp and hold my breath to see which way it’s going to slide off. Please god, let it go to the right and just fall on the floor.

Phew. Thanks for that, at least.

Today's ride: 20 miles (32 km)
Total: 239 miles (385 km)

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Steve Miller/GrampiesAre you adding to your script to always have front and rear lights on the bike just in case? Also, we always bring a light jacket, even in summer, again on the just in case principle. At the rate your lists are getting extended you will need to factor in extra time to review them before leaving the house. (Hahaha)
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1 week ago

Scott AndersonTo Steve Miller/GrampiesThat is true - it does take time, but it’s well spent. We went on a 30 miler yesterday and it was essentially flawless. Really, for the first time since we arrived in Portland. And yes, headlights, a jacket and a flashlight are all on the essential items list now.
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1 week ago

Karen PoretWhew..what a ride!
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1 week ago

CJ HornI See a sign on your bag that says “Live and Learn.”
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1 week ago

Rachael AndersonTo CJ HornLike! I'll have to look for one.
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1 week ago