Abominable Snowman


The eye candy for today is actually from last Sunday, when Anne rode the third weekend of Frost Bike and I tagged along.  Today’s header was shot after the ride.  It shows my bike glasses, sitting on the dashboard of my car, checkout the full story here.  My bike glasses are sports glasses from bollé, they have an outer wraparound lens and a prescription insert.  As you can, some of the snow that fell got stuck in between the two lenses, filling the bottom third of the lens.  The droplets above the snow came from road salt spray.  I should have had the bike fenders on that day.  The picture with today’s post, I shot of myself.  I really did look and feel like the Abominable Snowman.  Believe me I was as cold as I look.  Soon after shooting this photo, I bagged it and headed back to the car.  Here is the official description of the ride.

We had Dan and Annie over for dinner last night.  Dan pointed out that the Gerhard Richter painting in yesterday’s post is just one example of what is the SLAMmer’s and the world’s largest collection of his work.  After dinner we talked for a long time.  I don’t remember how we got on the subject, but Dan recounted his canoeing trip to Bowron Lakes Provincial Park.  The trip took place about nine years ago.  Dan was a freshman in high school.  Robin, Aimeé and Betty had invited him to join them.

I remember his flight to Seattle was on a Saturday morning.  It was a foggy morning and when we arrived at the airport it was crowded, always a bad sign.  The fog had delayed Dan’s connection through Chicago.  Not to worry said the helpful and friendly ticket agent, “We’ve already booked him on a later flight.”  “Wait a minute,” said Anne, “that flight is too late!”  “This flight is just the first in a chain of events.  He has to get to Seattle in time to make the last ferry to Lopez Island tonight.  The following morning he has to drive 500 miles in time to make the start of a week long canoeing trip.”  Anne is a force to be reckoned with when properly riled, and this was still at a time when the airlines paid lip service to customer service.  As Dave unfortunately found out this last Thanksgiving, that time has passed.

Anyway, they switched him to another carrier and the only seat left on the flight from Saint Louis to Chicago was in first class, poor Dan.  Anne and I both worried about sending one of our babies through O’Hare.  Dan had flown alone once before.  That time it was a direct flight to Dallas and my Dad was there to receive “the package”.  Anne cautioned him to ask an attendant to help him find his connecting gate and then he was off.  When he arrived in Chicago he called to chide us that his connecting gate was only two gates away.  Returning home, I found a website that allowed us to “track” his flight.  I must confesses I spent way too much time watching that little airplane icon crawl across the West.

Aimeé called us after they had met up with him.  They made all of their connections and had a great time.  Dan recounted stories last night of “canoeing” with paddle hoisted sails, duct taped luggage thanks to aggravated guides, leeches, swimming and swamped canoes, but those are his stories.  And soon he will get an Internet connection, maybe he will tell them then.

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