Mountain Biking in Ketchum, Idaho

Sissy and I have spent the last week ‘relaxing’ in beautiful Ketchum, Idaho. This unique ski town is nestled between two mountain ranges, flanked on the West by Bald Mountain and on the East by the Sawtooth Mountains.

We have filled the week with amazing mountain biking, brilliant golf, and wonderful dinners (never thought I would be able to come up with three different synonymous adjectives).

The mountain biking is spectacular here. With our trusty guides Naomi and Brad, the two courses we have tackled are Corral Creek and Adam’s Gulch. Both are extremely taxing from a cardiovascular standpoint, and technically very challenging. The thoughts that cross my head (on both rides) can be summed up as follows; “how awesome,” “how beautiful”, “oh fuck”, “holy shit”, and “I survived.”

Corral Creek is an out and back eight mile ride that has some great slaloms and scary mountain passes. The ride out takes around an hour and a half; while the ride back takes around twenty five minutes. It is great ride and offer many views of the Sawtooth range.

Adam’s Gulch is North of Ketchum. It included several passes over a little stream, a very difficult climb, and a very intense downhill ride.

These rides are both extremely challenging and dangerous, with several opportunities to break limbs, crack heads, and fall off mountains. Both rank 1 out of 5 in difficulty (5 being the most difficult). Needless to say, my abilities as a mountain biker are completely taxed by the ‘easiest’ courses Ketchum has to offer.

My best wipe-out was dog aided. This needs some clarification. Ketchum is an outdoor paradise, it is also a dog haven. Amsterdam has more bikes than people (among other things), Ketchum has more dogs than people. It is great. I love the dogs. They love my bike. As I was coming down a steep mountain pass on the Shady-Side Trail of Adam’s Gulch, a dog ran directly at my front tire. Trying to stop my bike with the fancy disc breaks proved much too simple of a task; thus I locked up wheels and bike, yet I continued on the same course (see physics from freshman year of college). As I flew over my handle bars, I thought, “I am sure glad I have this nice bed of rocks to break my fall.” A couple of scrapes and a bruised ego were the extent of my injuries.

I have found the best remedy after any taxing ride is a burger and a schooner of fat tire. Can’t wait to do it again.

How to Make the Guinness Tour 'Free'

Everyone always says that Guinness is much better in Ireland, and to avoid being trite, Guinness is superior in Dublin. if you ever visit, the Guinness tour is well worth a visit, and easy to make 'free.' The price is around 10 euros (if you have a student card). First of all you get a complimentary pint at the end of the tour--knock off 4.50 right away. There is a 'tasting lab' on the third floor. While it is designed for one to have a taste, it is easy to visit as many times as you like. I thought of it as more of a drinking lab.

So much to tell...

(Another Pointy Pony--This One Spotted in Dublin)

Dublin has been great--too much info to write about in this shady internet cafe--but here is a preview of what's to come.

1. a jamacan limbo star getting under a bar set to the height of a wine bottle
2. traditional irish music in a traditional irish bar
3. a tour of the guinness factory with a special photo for ac's collection
4. how to score box seats at the irish football league championship (this game needs explaining, but its closest to a cross between traditional soccer and australian rules football--so the only ones that might have a clue here are sissy, myself, carew, and cantine.)
5. an imcomplete and very superficial review of the cold war kids
6. the book of kells
7. snakes (that's right, muther f'ing snakes) in dublin
8. a discussion on the delight that is black pudding

2 Stop 10: Cowgatehead

Yesterday was a new start. Our landlord has been really great. Sure, it was her ceiling that fell on us, and she is likely doing some “damage control” (yes, I do realize the irony of this statement), however, she really has been quite good to us.

We were put up in the Minto Street Hotel for two nights. I get a feeling when I am staying in hotels of being on vacation. I can’t exactly describe it, but it is a distinct feeling. The Minto gave me the vacation feeling. It is strange though, as the hotel was only 3 blocks from the “Wee Apartment/Gay Brothel/Wreckage Site” (understandably I will have to explain this one, give me a minute). I guess it tells me that Newington was starting to feel a bit like home.

We spent Monday morning digging through the rubble for all of our personal belongings. It was an absolute mess (see Sissy’s site for many photos—soon there will be video footage as well). Susan (our landlord) explained that she had just finished refurbishing the Wee Apartment this past September. She takes great pride in her work, and it shows. You might be giggling to yourself, “WHAT are you talking about Marty, the ceiling just fell on you!?!” We figured out that the problem was likely the apartment above us. The owner of that flat had been doing renovations for the better part of a year. Susan said that she has had several minor complaints all related to water leakage from the above flat. When we called she expected to find something similar to what she had seen in the past, perhaps a bit of plaster on the ground, signs of water on the wall, but definitely not “the tornado just hit our freaking house” scene that we were in the midst of. Apparently second/third/seventeenth rate plumbers did their worst work. The night the sky fell, a tenet had moved into that dodgy flat. We don’t know exactly what happened, but it is likely related to shitty plumbing from above—but I digress.

The whole reason she had remodeled this past year was because of the previous tenet. He was a French man running Edinburgh’s smallest house of ill repute for homosexual men. Susan said that after she kicked him out of the apartment, it was left in such bad shape that she decided to completely redecorate the place.

Back to the point of this blog entry—we are now moved into our new apartment; 2/10 (2 stop 10) Cowgatehead. For those of you looking for an indy rock band name; ladies and gentleman, COWGATEHEAD! It is in a great area of Old Town Called the Grassmarket. For those who know the area, our apartment sits at the bottom of Victoria Street, just a half block from the Grain Store Restaurant. Victoria Street also is where we saw Camera Obscura. For those who don’t know the city, look at my photo of Edinburgh Castle, our apartment is one block from where that picture was taken. It is at the heart of the city and is a wonderful place. The space is large (we actually have a spare bedroom if anyone is interested in a surprise visit to Edinburgh).

Susan cleaned all of our clothes and we are now ready to start the next chapter of our Edinburgh experience. We expect it to be every bit as fun, hopefully with a solid roof over our heads.

Got a Dustpan...Better Make it a Shovel (Story by Sissy with comments from Martois)

We are safe - but a little shocked. As I write this in the Minto St. Guesthouse just down the road from the pieces of what used to be our wee apartment, I still can’t believe what has happened. However, it will certainly be hard to forget. I feel the grit between my teeth despite having brushed them and see the grime on my skin and under my fingernails despite having showered. I also have a burn at the back of my throat, but it’s hard to tell if it is all the dust I inhaled or the whiskey afterward. At least for the rest of the night we have what looks like a stable roof over our heads, but that is what we thought a few short hours ago in the wee apartment.

I had just gone up to bed to read and Marty was sitting underneath in the nook on the couch, luckily, since moments later we both heard a sound that Marty described as marbles rolling on the floor. As I looked directly above me I saw a large crack quickly spreading across the ceiling. The next few minutes are a mess (like the current state of the apartment) since it all happened so fast. There was a huge crash and the ceiling came down. (I was sitting on the couch below the lofted bed. When I heard the crackle of ceiling falling to the ground I actually feared that the sound was coming from the loft. I had a split moment of "this might be the end.) When we both came to - Marty was the first to ask, “Siss, are you OK?” It took a moment for me to respond but I choked an, “OK” and, “Open the window and door” - the dust was so thick it was hard to breathe and see (the light fixture had crashed to the floor where I was previously sitting). I brushed the plaster off me and hurried down the ladder and out the door after Marty.

Interestingly, as I rushed out I grabbed my purse and once we were safe on the street I saw that Marty had grabbed his bottle of Scotch. I believe he took the more useful item as we sure as heck needed a stiff drink. Fortunately for us a neighbor was walking by at the time. After overcoming his surprise at seeing two Americans abandoning their home in the middle of the night followed by a giant cloud of debris and profanity, he allowed us to use his phone and gave Marty a glass. We all surveyed the scene and he took pity on us and started calling guesthouses close by while we awaited the arrival of the landlady who lives about 45 mins away. She agreed to come into town straight away to survey the damage - she really had no idea how bad it was until she saw it with her own eyes.

In my PJs I waited for her outside, while Marty notified the woman living directly above us of the catastrophe and warned her against using the room that we shared the ceilng/floor unless she wanted to risk becoming our roommate by unexpectedly dropping in on us. When the dust had started to settle I went in to grab my camera and took some photos. As you can see on the web page my computer got hit with chunks of plaster. Our clothes, Marty’s computer, everything from toothbrushes to neck ties is covered in dust. Belongings on shelves were thrown off into piles of rumble with the force of the plaster coming down. Thank goodness, I managed to dig out my ring - “My precious”.

The first to arrive on the scene was the contractor who informed us the apartment was unsafe - uh, you think? Then the owner came with her husband and they were both baffled. They were good enough to put us up for the night here at the Minto house and tomorrow we will return to the disaster scene and try and retrieve our goods and clean them to the best of our abilities. The important thing is that we are safe, we have each other, and are once again Engaged, Drunk and Naked in Edinburgh - I guess we have come full circle.

Keep checking the blog for updates. Sissy's blog has more photographs, and soon we will have a wee video of the wreckage as well.

Bottle #2: The Balvenie

Founder's Reserve--Aged 10 years.

Rich and sweet aroma, buttery smooth smooth taste. Light but lively body with a peppery flavor that lingers. It warms you inside to out; great bottle for after/before/during work! 3 nips of this and black pudding is a majestic side dish (stay tuned for a discussion on this treat).

Roma 2: Manchester United 1: Stella Martois 6

Sissy and I went to a local pub to watch the highly anticipated match between ManU and Roma. 30-40 minutes into the match Scoles (ManU midfielder) got his second yellow card and forced ManU to play a man down for the rest of the match. Just before half, Roma scored a goal on a dodgy deflected corner kick. Roma has a reputation for putting corners into play too early. Several balls used during a match so that errant shots don’t have to be chased down and slow play. In this case, Roma played the corner almost before the other ball went out. The teams would trade goals in the second have, so this first goal proved to be the difference.

The real action took place after the first goal, and was televised during the mid-game break. After the Roma goal, Italy fans began taunting the ManU supporters. Separated by glass, the Roma fans made obscene gestures and starting hurling beer bottles at the English section. Fine, and par for the course. “Football” crowds have always made America football crowds seem like lambs of the god. The reaction by ManU fans was also to be expected. Completely shocking and horrific to watch was the handling by the Italian Riot police. They were already lining the English section at the start of the game. When the ManU fans reacted to the beer bottle missiles that had targeted them, the Italian police began beating English men, women, and children. Dogs were spared only because they were not allowed in the stadium (aside from guide dogs for the blind, and these were given quite a beating indeed).

The camera captured several police beating unconscious fans already bloodied and on the ground. The phrase “hitting a man while he is down” has renewed meaning and significant imagery for me.

The reason I scored the match in my favor by 6: The Abbey is about 2 blocks from my place and its featured whisky this month is Glenkinchie at 2.20 a nip; game, set, match. I just hope they don’t have Italian riot police guarding the whisky.

Isle of Skye and Beyond!

After a great couple of days in Glengarry Castle, Sissy and I packed up and made our way to the Isle of Skye. It is the largest of the Scottish Isles, and its name means “Cloud Island.” We caught it one the one day of the year where there is sun. After seeing the beautiful scenery, we exited the island via ferry. It took us back to mainland and we continued on to Fort William. We stayed in a quaint B&B for the night and explored the pedestrian High Street. Dinner was at the famous Grog and Gruel. We enjoyed traditional Scottish Cask Ales and our first taste of Haggis.

Haggis is best enjoyed by not knowing it contents, similar to hotdogs (not in taste, rather the arduous meat inclusion/selection process). As I understand it, haggis (the national dish) is a ground mixture of sheep heart, lung, and liver ( maybe brain? Maybe spleen?). This ground purée is mixed with oatmeal and onion, salted and spiced, then packed in a sheep stomach. Cooked to perfection, it is best served with “neeps and tatties” (turnips and potatoes). Like I said, ignorance is bliss, and so is haggis. Black pudding, however, I have not yet warmed up to (stay tuned for a discussion on this interesting treat).