The price of a thirty-second thrill

Seven small steps lead to a painted platform, where, locked into place, rests what looks like a special love seat – with seat belts and shoulder harness.

At either side of the seat, two pairs of steel cables stretch tight as they soar up more than 150 feet into the air, disappearing at the top of flimsy steel towers, themselves guy roped back down to the platform's steel structure.

At the top of the steps, small wicker baskets provide a safe repository for pocketbooks, coins and keys – or anything else likely to fly loose in the brief vertical flight skyward.

A chubby raven haired woman tucks her flowing skirt under her legs, as if that will be enough to spare her modesty as she catapults from the ground, accelerating to 60 mph in under two seconds.

The scraggy bearded man next to her is all bravado, waving to friends on the ground in an exaggerated two-fisted pump. The sound of a motor whines into life and bank of 3-inch diameter coiled steel springs arranged in a 20 x 20 matrix begin to elongate under the determined influence of a hydraulic shaft, its surface glistening with fluid in the high noon sun.

For a fraction of a second there is silence following the clunk of the safety catch release. A scream rises in pitch as the love seat soars high into the air, tops out above the pylons, inverts, and the couple begins their face-down freefall accelerating at 32 feet per second, for each second they plummet towards the ground and certain oblivion.

Two-thirds of the way down to eternity, the steel cable pulls tight arresting the descent before firing the now silent duo back up to the top of the tower. The sinusoidal decay continues for a few more seconds, before the mechanism lowers them to ground where released from their restraints, they stumble towards the same steps previously trod with great gusto.

Muted victory salutes acknowledge reminders to retrieve their valuables from the baskets.

This is Portland, Oregon waterfront on Rose Festival week where such thrills come at the high price of $50 for a thirty-second ride to the sky.

The answer to your question is no, no way.

The optical art of Anish Kapoor

Visually stunning, disorientating, and acoustically engrossing, the oversize art from London-based Anish Kapoor on show at the Boston ICA invades the senses.

Individual pieces, some 12 feet high and 20 feet wide are grouped to compliment each other, but are best seen when the crowds are thinnest to allow plenty of time for experimentation.

This is achieved by positioning the eye or ear in different focal planes or at the focal point of the gracefully curved and highly polished forms.

Sounds and images change, depth perception alters. In fact with some pieces, it is impossible to tell if the image is a delicately shaded art image or an aperture that curves deep into the gallery wall. Initially the only clue is the strategically positioned member of security, alert and attentive to any attempt to touch or reach into the artwork.

Members preview night on Wednesday was a little too crowded to fully take in the work and I recommend viewing the ICA made film about the sculptor and the cultural inspiration behind his work before viewing the actual pieces. It will explain the construction techniques and heighten the delight when you do see them in close up.

Details and slideshow of the work can be seen on the ICA website, but this is one show you should experience in person to appreciate its shear scale.

Monday in the park with the Band of Liberty

The diversity of events in our region never ceases to amaze and delight me. Perhaps it is the result of a happy confluence of history and military presence.

Like me, you may have not heard of, or heard playing, The United States Air Force Band of Liberty. Stationed at Hanscom Air Force Base – an electronic counter measures research site and home to a military population of 3000, including family members – the Band of Liberty is a 60-strong ensemble of talented musicians who play music from jazz to swing to military marches and the classics.

On Monday, Minuteman National Park played host to the Band of Liberty on an afternoon sunny enough to drive the audience to find shade, but breezy enough to give the musicians timing problems as they made repeated attempts to turn over their sheet music.
The program, which ran for nearly almost two hours non-stop on this Memorial weekend, had a strong theme of remembrance, but not in a morbid or overtly solemn sense.
Rather, the tunes themselves offered up their own memories, featuring classics from the eras of past conflicts – WWI to Vietnam. Nor was the music limited to instruments, thanks to fine singing renditions from three of the service members.

A serviceman with a distinct gravelly 'James Earl Jones' voice narrated portions of past presidential speeches, as relevant today as when they first given life.
It is not possible to capture the quality of musical performance in my words. Trust me, this is a very accomplished set of musicians.

I checked the bands website and music is available for streaming, but not for purchase. Indeed, the only way to hear it in CD quality is for your local library to request a set of CD's from the Band of Liberty directly and then to borrow the discs from the library.
Here's a brief sample from The Band of Liberty website:

From On Silver Wings, released in 2007:
1. On Silver Wings (10.29 MB)
2. Air Force Hymn (7.06 MB)
3. No Finer Calling- An Airman's Symphony- Movement I (5.41 MB)
4. No Finer Calling- An Airman's Symphony- Movement II (6.86 MB)
5. No Finer Calling- An Airman's Symphony- Movement III (15.08 MB)


From Salute to the American Spirit, released in the wake of the tragedy of September 11, 2001:
1. Fantasia in G (5.43 MB)
2. America Is (3.9 MB)
3. When You Believe (4.85 MB)
4. Let Freedom Ring (4.44 MB)
5. George Washington Bicentennial March (4.18 MB)

Photo's from the event

The tale of two W's

A hike in the morning and beer samples in the afternoon make for a great day out. The fact that both can be found not more than five miles apart around Westminster, MA, and have a strong connection to each other makes it even more interesting.
Mass Audubon Wachusett Meadows Wildlife Sanctuary offers numerous trails, old stonewalls, beaver bonds and miles of trails such as the one that leads up to Browns Hill, a 1320 foot hump that offers great views of Wachusett Mountain to the north and the beaver flooded marshlands to the south. Trail maps are available at the office.
From the boundary of the sanctuary to the north, the Mid-State Trail snakes gently for 2 miles through trillium studded woodland towards the summit of Mount Wachusett before exploding upwards over the last half mile in a leg-burning, lung-busting… well you get the idea… climb up natural granite steps to reach the summit. From there, views extend as far away as Boston, some 50 miles to the east.
The round trip from sanctuary to summit is 8.2 miles, has an elevation gain of 1471 feet, and is achievable by any reasonably ambulatory person, the only variable being how long it will take.

Also highly achievable is a tour around the Wachusett Brewery Company, which runs every hour from noon, (but not every day, so check their website). Started in 1994 and still owned by the original three founders, all engineering graduates from Worcester Polytechnic Institute, the brewery has grown to be the second largest packager of beer (bottles and kegs) in Massachusetts after the Harpoon Brewery. The largest brewer, Boston Beer Company (brewers of Sam Adams), do not bottle in MA.
The tour is informative (thanks to brewer, Dave Higgins) and the brewery allows each customer two small beer samples afterwards - my favorites being their IPA and a beer called Green Monsta.
I've bought the IPA and Country Ale on draft locally and in bottles, but nothing compares to the fresh brewed, just pumped taste of those samples.
The brewery sells refillable growlers, pricey for the initial purchase of the 'glass' (which is a work of art) at $20, but each 2-liter refill (about six 12oz bottles) costs only $6 thereafter.

It's just a pity they are so far away, but all the more reason for another hike when the beer runs out.

The walk (click on image for larger pictures)

Cranes Beach awaits your attention

New England offers an amazing range of environments, from challenging mountains to soft and yielding seashore.
Cranes Beach provides easy walking, soft sand, seashells, flotsam and jetsam, sun bleached garbage abraded into new shapes by the tides, and my own favorite, tree roots.
Nothing is more fascinating than the salt whitened shape and form of a large tree root, battered and smoothed, immersed and dried in cycle dictated only by the moon and tides.
State and Trustees of Reservations laws forbid removal of such items, and rightly so as they provide a natural trap for small living organisms important to diet of foraging birds.
Each time I go back to this place, usually before the summer crowds take over, wind whipped dunes are missing or perhaps simply relocated.
The Red Trail walk through scrub wood and crunching pine needles comes with a subtle scorched-cotton aroma, before topping out over sand dunes for the first blue water views.
The moderate walk is 5.8 miles of sheer delight, stretching far out to a marshy headland, before looping back along miles of flat beaches.
This is a peaceful place. A place where communication with others, with the land and sea and with one's self comes naturally.

One walk - many views (click on photo to go to album)

Lacking in earnest.

Maybe changing our usual seats gave me a new perspective; one I did not like. Somehow being in row 'I' (rhymes with high) distanced me from the action, even allowed for a few minutes of guilt free shut eye.
The Importance of Being Earnest is a classic, but for me, the Lyric Stage Company production failed to deliver the punch lines with enough power, inflection and timing to do justice to Wildes words.
Algernon's character was just not large enough in terms of stage presence.
I waited with keen anticipation for Lady Bracknell's immortal line, "A handbag? A handbag?", and it seemed so did Bobbie Steinbach playing the part. The audience reaction said it all. Flat. As flat as the delivery.
Where was the explosion of indignation, the withering stare, the pause for audience reaction?
It was left to Ed Hoopman as Jack to save the day, projecting some of the plays best lines in his booming voice far into the blackness of the rafters.
Attending later performances in a run, polished with time, perhaps has spoiled me.
But, I'm still signing up for Lyric Stage Company season tickets next year.
How could I not? Its become one of my best of Boston traditions.

On aging and making mistakes

I have aged 20 years over the last three days, hopefully on a temporary basis. For these long days, getting in and out of a car is a tedious mix of twists and turns and false starts, gasps of pain and quick adjustments. Looking over my shoulder to reverse from a parking space is next to impossible, as is turning the steering wheel to get into the same gap.
It's tough to reach up, it's tough to reach down, dropped items go unclaimed or wait until two or three are at the same level. Standing up, sitting down, lying down and turning over in bed, causes wrenching muscle spasms and squeaks, grunts or shouts of pain , depending on the element of surprise.
Sneezing, laughing, blowing my nose and undertaking other necessary daily routine body functions, well let's just say it all takes a very long time – and hurts.
What brought me to this level?
A sequence of events of course: no snow baskets on my hiking poles, allowing their support to vanish at a critical moment; a pack overloaded for the conditions due to late changes from a day hike plan to full backpack; faulty traction devices (do not ever by Stabilicers – the majority of traction studs of mine simply fell out in the first 2 miles). I could go on.
I fell about 10 vertical feet in several stages, first slip, grind arm on rock, attempt to rebalance using poles, topple head first, flail and turn sideways head still pointing down towards a tree, twist and land on my side, on a log, pack up and over my head, it's 40lbs of weight pinning me, crushing the damaged rib further.
Did I cry out – you bet, with every breath I tried to take until rescue came ten gasps later when the pack was unstrapped and lifted clear.
We should have walked out the 5 miles back to the trailhead and abandoned or modified the weekends plans.
We didn't.
We carried on, climbed two 4000-foot peaks on Saturday, hiking 7.9 miles. We slept in a three sided shelter and climbed three more peaks over 4200 feet high (one of them twice when we took a wrong term with me head down in the front) plus the same two Saturday peaks as we had to retrace our steps to leave New Hampshire's Pemigewasset Wilderness. The completed round trip totaled 20.3 miles with 7029 feet of elevation gain and loss.
Sympathy, no thanks.
A huge slice of good luck - plenty considering the spear like tree limbs, boulders, other obstacles - and the fact a women visiting from China died not 6 miles away last Thursday when a 5 feet by 3 feet by 20 inch slab boulder broke loose and fell on her.
Wilderness lessons to share, plenty.
Here are the good views of the weekend

Storm Over Everest

I sat in the audience of filmmakers, producers, mountaineers and 60 or so other people who had applied to attend a preview of Frontline's 'Storm Over Everest' in WGBH's plush Brighton studio auditorium.
Prayer flags strung along the sidewalls fluttered in the air conditioning.
Climber, producer, director, David Breashears waited 10 years, almost to the day, to release a film the events of 1996, when 11 died on Everest in what has been variously described as a freak storm and a failure of leadership.
I have read several accounts by those involved, Jon Krakauer, Anatoli Boukreev, Doug Hansen, to name three. Each differs in there account, unsurprising given that most of what happened occurred above 26,000 feet, where, put quite simply, the brain fails to function.
Breashears' film does not solve any of the many riddles, not does it provide much fresh information. What is does do beautifully, using a mix of simulation and first hand accounts, is to put the events in the context of the appalling conditions in which some died, some lived, some were heroes and others were found wanting.
A nervous Breashears, who was on Everest with his IMAX film team and took part in the many rescue attempts, introduced his work and he answered only a few questions after the preview.
In fact Breashears seemed as concerned that is two godchildren approved of his efforts as he did the audience. At least they gave him a thumbs up afterwards.
None of the Storm Over Everest film footage came from Breashears 1996 filming activity and is a recreation of conditions. This does not detract from the film's emotional poignancy, exemplified by the audience silence during rolling of the credits, before breaking out into a mix of applause that ranged from polite to enthusiastic.
The film will be aired on PBS on Tuesday May 13 and online until June 16.
I recommend putting on a down jacket, turning the air conditioning to minimum, yanking up the audio system volume and trying to imagine what it was like to be trapped in the death zone. Just don't try and figure out why – it's what people do.

What's in a name?

Like me, you may never have heard of Domenikos Theotokopoulos.
Not only is the name a mouthful for non-native speakers of Greek, but it lacks something in the way of branding that 'El Greco', Spanish for 'The Greek', conjures up so admirably.

This wasn't one of my first thoughts as I wandered through the Boston's MFA special exhibition, but it did set me thinking about brand and image (as did the recent Annie Leibovitch photo of Miley Ray Cyrus aka Disney's Hannah Montana - but for different reasons - like exploitation).

The fact that El Greco was talented and that his paintings have an elongated, mystical and at times overpowering weight to them, would probably have counted for little without support and sponsorship, in his case from the Duke of Lerma and later Philip III.

El Greco also had some luck, albeit at the second attempt.

His first attempts to gain court acceptance did not find favor with Philip II - who might have been pre-occupied with four marriages, the inquisition, expelling all non-catholics from Spain and trying to invade England with his Armada - and El Greco returned to his home.

Later, after Domenikos Theotokopoulos painted an altarpiece, his work found favor and he became widely known as El Greco and one of the first branded artists.

I wonder if Miley would sooner be known as the brand Hannah Montana or more simply as Miley - certainly it appears that father Billy Ray and mother Tish are looking to alter the perception of their daughter.

Another loaded walk

Rain is your friend.
At least that's what I told myself as I tramped up and down the hills of Middlesex Fells on a training hike, carrying 50lbs in my new Osprey Aether 85 (liter) backpack.
Rain cooled me down, rain made everything a vivid green, rain made the rocks wet and slippery giving an excuse to go slow and steady. Rain meant I could try out my new Seattle Sombrero from Outdoor Research.

Seven miles and 3 hours 45 minutes of Skyline Trail hike time, and a short drive later, beer and nachos were my new friends.

The pack stood up well, sat comfortably and can only improve when I get the belt custom heat-molded to my hip bones (if I can find them).

On the other hand, the hat looked slightly over the top, but in Alaska will probably go completely unnoticed.