Oliver

My second cat, Oliver, died yesterday. He had had low-grade chronic renal disease for a long time, and for unknown reasons it rapidly worsened over the past several days, to the point that his kidney were irreversibly shut down.

I don't know how old he was. The shelter from which I adopted him told the story in a newsletter a short time later:

It still makes me choke up to see how sick and miserable he was. Compare that to how cozy-comfy he got once he had settled in with me:

His favorite place to perch was on top of my recliner:

He thought it was an even better spot when I would sit in the chair with him above me:

Sometimes this would result in a head bath that I thought was unnecessary, but Oliver obviously thought otherwise. This was the first of what would turn out to be many:

My main regret is that I could never get Oliver and Lucy to be friends. Mostly, they just barely tolerated each other. This isn't a great photo, but it nicely illustrates the prevailing mood:

But once in a while, there would be a real dust-up. Oliver usually picked the fights, and always came out the loser:

Sometimes they would nap calmly in fairly close proximity, showing a glimmer of mutual tolerance:

And once in a great while, there were moments of what appeared to be affection, which would always send my hopes soaring that a better inter-feline relationship would come:

The best I can say is that in the last several months things were improving between them--though at a glacial pace.

He was a pretty derpy, messy cat. His tongue often stuck out, and he would make giant messes out of his food, water, litterbox, and everything else. But he did have his moments of letting his handsome flag fly:

One of his best features was that he had eyeliner on fleek. Women would die to get their eyes done this perfectly:

He was constantly affectionate.

He was endlessly funny and entertaining.

Looking through my photo/video archives, I just want to show you all of it. But that would be self-indulgent, rather than a proper tribute. So I'll call it quits with this:

For the last time, Oliver says "blep."

I already miss him terribly.

Life update

I adopted a second cat. His name is Oliver. He's had a hard life. He was abandoned by persons unknown, and left to die--and he very nearly did. He has no teeth and no tail. But now he'll have enough love that it won't matter.

Confederate monuments

I can recall only one unexpected encounter with a Confederate monument.

In December 2015, Nina and I went for a hike in Pinnacle Park, near the town of Sylva, NC. Afterward, we decided to poke around the town and see what was there. We quickly found our way to what seemed to be the highest point: the courthouse. 

From the front of the building, there's a spectacular view down the main drag, with mountains in the background, as seen below. If I took a photo of that view, I didn't save it, but here's a good one: 

(Source) 

From behind, I thought that statue was probably a WWI soldier. I went down the steps far enough to see it from the front, and was surprised by what you can see in the photo below: "Our Heroes of the Confederacy." 

I'm no PC snowflake, but the statue and its engraving instantly made me feel, well, icky. The Confederacy was the enemy of everything I cherish, ideologically; it was awful in every conceivable way, from its conception to the moment it was destroyed. 

A speech that Frederick Douglass gave in 1878 sums up the matter more eloquently than I ever could: 

Nevertheless, we must not be asked to say that the South was right in the rebellion, or to say the North was wrong. We must not be asked to put no difference between those who fought for the Union and those who fought against it, or between loyalty and treason.... 

I admit that the South believed it was right, but the nature of things is not changed by belief. The Inquisition was not less a crime against humanity because it was believed right by the Holy Fathers.... 

It was a war of ideas, a battle of principles and ideas which united one section and divided the other; a war between the old and new, slavery and freedom, barbarism and civilization; between a government based upon the broadest and grandest declaration of human rights the world ever heard or read, and another pretended government, based upon an open, bold and shocking denial of all rights, except the right of the strongest.... 

There was a right side and a wrong side in the late war, which no sentiment ought to cause us to forget, and while to-day we should have malice toward none, and charity toward all, it is no part of our duty to confound right with wrong, or loyalty with treason.

(See here for the whole thing.) 

I am not in the "tear them all down" camp--especially when that is decided by mob rule rather than through the processes of representative democracy. But neither am I in the "we need to honor our heritage" camp. It is preposterous to worry that we will erase the Civil War, the Confederacy, and its important lessons from our collective conscious if all the flattering monuments were to be hit by wrecking balls. 

But I'm not sure that's the right approach, at least not across the board. 

One of the most interesting things I saw on my one and only trip to Santa Fe, New Mexico, was the city's central plaza. It is home to an obelisk monument erected in 1868:

(Source.) 

The obelisk itself is forgettable, indistinguishable from a million others. But I was intrigued by the combination of the original inscription and the explanatory plaque added much, much later: 

(You will note that the word "savage" has been defaced out of the original, presumably after this plaque was added. This was vandalism, not an official act. I don't approve of it; your mileage may vary.) 

I like this general approach. It allows the visitor to see what was important to the people who erected the edifice, in their own words. But then it adds a modern comment, gently (perhaps too gently) expressing a collective, contemporary disavowal. 

Maybe the added plaque should go further, and express remorse over the entire genocidal enterprise, rather than being apologetic only for the use of two words that make those of modern sensibilities cringe. But my point is not that this one example is done exactly right; rather, I think the general approach is a worthy one, and it's one I don't recall having seen done anywhere else. 

I can imagine approving of a heroic-appearing Civil War monument, with its original inscription intact, but augmented by an updated perspective--one explaining that while we do not wish to erase the past, we also do not wish to condone or leave unchallenged the views that cloaked Confederate evil in the glory of a heroic public statue. It would not displease me one bit if some of Douglass's wonderful prose, such as that quoted above, made its way onto these new additions to the memorials. 

Those who built all these monuments did so in order to speak to people of the future. Fine, let them. We don't need to silence their voices in order to add our own. 

Frederick Douglass on immigration

Warning: No poker content.

Last night I started reading this book:

I bought it, after it had sat on my Amazon wish list for a long time, because I was reminded about Douglass by Donald Trump's embarrassing reference to him yesterday.

I'll mostly read it in order, but I first turned to an 1869 speech Douglass gave about immigration, since that's a hot topic these days. He was specifically reacting to the anti-Chinese fervor that was then in the news. The US had signed some sort of agreement with China to let workers in temporarily, but not permanently, and would not let them become citizens.

I'm quite radically in favor of immigration, viewing a right to roam freely about the globe as one of the natural rights of man; the movement of people should be as unrestrained as the movement of goods and ideas. With a few pragmatic qualifications, I am, therefore, an advocate for open borders. I was delighted to find that Douglass basically shared that viewpoint.

His speech here is very long; the few things I've read from him, while rhetorically impressive, reveal a tendency to be hugely verbose, at least by modern standards. So I've done a Reader's Digest job on the speech, cutting it down to maybe 10% of its original length. You get the essence of his message, and all the best bits, in a fraction of the reading time.

Douglass also, kind of embarrassingly, peppered this speech with racial, ethnic, and national stereotyping: the Chinese share these characteristics, the Germans these, etc. A man can be ahead of his time, yet still limited by it. I've quietly omitted most of those parts, as I suspect Douglass himself would if he could rewrite the speech today.

Here we go:

“Our Composite Nationality,” a speech delivered on December 7, 1869 in Boston, Massachusetts and published in Boston Daily Advertiser, December 8, 1869. 

A government founded upon justice, and recognizing the equal rights of all men; claiming no higher authority for its existence, or sanction for its laws, than nature, reason and the regularly ascertained will of the people; steadily refusing to put its sword and purse in the service of any religious creed or family, is a standing offense to most of the governments of the world, and to some narrow and bigoted people among ourselves.

Of errors and defects we certainly have not less than our full share, enough to keep the reformer awake, the statesman busy, and the country in a pretty lively state of agitation for some time to come.

We have for a long time hesitated to adopt and carry out the only principle which can solve that difficulty and give peace, strength and security to the republic, and that is the principle of absolute equality.

We are a country of all extremes, ends and opposites; the most conspicuous example of composite nationality in the world. Our people defy all the ethnological and logical classifications. In races we range all the way from black to white, with intermediate shades which, as in the apocalyptic vision, no man can name or number.

We stand between the populous shores of two great oceans. Our land is capable of supporting one-fifth of all the globe. Here, labor is abundant and better remunerated than anywhere else. All moral, social and geographical causes conspire to bring to us the peoples of all other over-populated countries.

Europe and Africa are already here, and the Indian was here before either. He stands today between the two extremes of black and white, too proud to claim fraternity with either, and yet too weak to withstand the power of either. Heretofore, the policy of our government has been governed by race pride, rather than by wisdom.

Until recently, neither the Indian nor the Negro has been treated as a part of the body politic. No attempt has been made to inspire either with a sentiment of patriotism, but the hearts of both races have been diligently sown with the dangerous seeds of discontent and hatred.

The policy of keeping the Indians to themselves, has kept the tomahawk and scalping knife busy upon our borders, and has cost us largely in blood and treasure.

Our treatment of the Negro has lacked humanity and filled the country with agitation and ill-feeling, and brought the nation to the verge of ruin.

Before the relations of those two races are satisfactorily settled, and in spite of all opposition, a new race is making its appearance within our borders, and claiming attention.

America is no longer an obscure and inaccessible country. Our ships are in every sea, our commerce is in every port, our language is heard all around the globe, steam and lightning have revolutionized the whole domain of human thought, changed all geographical relations, make a day of the present seem equal to a thousand years of the past, and the continent that Columbus only conjectured four centuries ago is now the center of the world.

The same mighty forces which have swept to our shores the overflowing population of Europe; which have reduced the people of Ireland three millions below its normal standard; will operate in a similar manner upon the hungry population of China and other parts of Asia. Home has its charms, and native land has its charms, but hunger, oppression and destitution will dissolve these charms and send men in search of new countries and new homes.

The conclusion of the whole will be that they will want to come to us, and, as we become more liberal, we shall want them to come, and what we want done will naturally be done.

They will no longer halt upon the shores of California. They will burrow no longer in her exhausted and deserted gold mines, where they have gathered wealth from barrenness, taking what others left. They will turn their backs not only upon the Celestial Empire but upon the golden shores of the Pacific, and the wide waste of waters whose majestic waves spoke to them of home and country. They will withdraw their eyes from the glowing West and fix them upon the rising sun. They will cross the mountains, cross the plains, descend our rivers, penetrate to the heart of the country and fix their home with us forever.

Assuming then that immigration already has a foothold and will combine for many years to come, we have a new element in our national composition which is likely to exercise a large influence upon the thought and the action of the whole nation.

Already has the matter taken shape in California and on the Pacific coast generally. Already has California assumed a bitterly unfriendly attitude toward the Chinaman. Already has she driven them from her altars of justice. Already has she stamped them as outcasts and handed them over to popular contempts and vulgar jest. Already are they the constant victims of cruel harshness and brutal violence. Already have our Celtic brothers, never slow to execute the behests of popular prejudice against the weak and defenseless, recognized in the heads of these people, fit targets for their shilalahs. Already, too, are their associations formed in avowed hostility to the Chinese.

In all this there is, of course, nothing strange. Repugnance to the presence and influence of foreigners is an ancient feeling among men. It is peculiar to no particular race or nation. To the Greek, every man not speaking Greek is a barbarian. To the Jew, every one not circumcised is a gentile. To the Mohametan, every one not believing in the prophet is a kaffer.

Nature has two voices, the one high, the other low; one is in sweet accord with reason and justice, and the other apparently at war with both. The more men know of the essential nature of things, and of the true relation of mankind, the freer they are from prejudice of every kind. The child is afraid of the giant form of his own shadow. This is natural, but he will part with his fears when he is older and wiser. So ignorance is full of prejudice, but it will disappear with enlightenment.

I have said that the Chinese will come, and have given some reasons why we may expect them in very large numbers in no very distant future. Do you ask if I would favor such immigrations? I answer, I would. Would you admit them as witnesses in our courts of law? I would. Would you have them naturalized, and have them invested with all the rights of American citizenship? I would. Would you allow them to vote? I would. Would you allow them to hold office? I would.

But are there not reasons against all this? Is there not such a law or principle as that of self-preservation? Does not every race owe something to itself? Should it not attend to the dictates of common sense? Should not a superior race protect itself from contact with inferior ones? Are not the white people the owners of this continent? Have they not the right to say what kind of people shall be allowed to come here and settle? Is there not such a thing as being more generous than wise? In the effort to promote civilization may we not corrupt and destroy what we have? Is it best to take on board more passengers than the ship will carry?

To all this and more I have one among many answers, altogether satisfactory to me, though I cannot promise it will be entirely so to you.

I submit that this question of Chinese immigration should be settled upon higher principles than those of a cold and selfish expediency. There are such things in the world as human rights. They rest upon no conventional foundation, but are eternal, universal and indestructible.

Among these is the right of locomotion; the right of migration; the right which belongs to no particular race, but belongs alike to all and to all alike. It is the right you assert by staying here, and your fathers asserted by coming here. It is this great right that I assert for the Chinese and the Japanese, and for all other varieties of men equally with yourselves, now and forever. I know of no rights of race superior to the rights of humanity, and when there is a supposed conflict between human and national rights, it is safe to go to the side of humanity.

I want a home here not only for the Negro, the mulatto and the Latin races, but I want the Asiatic to find a home here in the United States, and feel at home here, both for his sake and for ours. Right wrongs no man.

And here I hold that a liberal and brotherly welcome to all who are likely to come to the United States is the only wise policy which this nation can adopt.

It has been thoughtfully observed that every nation, owing to its peculiar character and composition, has a definite mission in the world. What that mission is, and what policy is best adapted to assist in its fulfillment, is the business of its people and its statesmen to know, and knowing, to make a noble use of this knowledge.

I need not stop here to name or describe the missions of other or more ancient nationalities. Ours seems plain and unmistakable. Our geographical position, our relation to the outside world, our fundamental principles of government, world-embracing in their scope and character, our vast resources, requiring all manner of labor to develop them, and our already existing composite population, all conspire to one grand end, and that is, to make us the perfect national illustration of the unity and dignity of the human family that the world has ever seen.

In whatever else other nations may have been great and grand, our greatness and grandeur will be found in the faithful application of the principle of perfect civil equality to the people of all races and of all creeds. We are not only bound to this position by our organic structure and by our revolutionary antecedents, but by the genius of our people. Gathered here from all quarters of the globe, by a common aspiration for national liberty as against caste, divine right govern and privileged classes, it would be unwise to be found fighting against ourselves and among ourselves, it would be unadvised to attempt to set up any one race above another, or one religion above another, or prescribe any on account of race, color or creed.

The apprehension that we shall be swamped or swallowed up by Mongolian civilization; that the Caucasian race may not be able to hold their own against that vast incoming population, does not seem entitled to much respect. Though they come as the waves come, we shall be all the stronger if we receive them as friends and give them a reason for loving our country and our institutions. They will find here a deeply rooted, indigenous, growing civilization, augmented by an ever-increasing stream of immigration from Europe, and possession is nine points of the law in this case, as well as in others. They will come as strangers. We are at home. They will come to us, not we to them. They will come in their weakness, we shall meet them in our strength. They will come as individuals, we will meet them in multitudes, and with all the advantages of organization. Chinese children are in American schools in San Francisco. None of our children are in Chinese schools, and probably never will be, though in some things they might well teach us valuable lessons. Contact with these yellow children of the Celestial Empire would convince us that the points of human difference, great as they, upon first sight, seem, are as nothing compared with the points of human agreement. Such contact would remove mountains of prejudice.

It is said that it is not good for man to be alone. This is true, not only in the sense in which our women’s rights friends so zealously and wisely teach, but it is true as to nations.

All great qualities are never found in any one man or in any one race. The whole of humanity, like the whole of everything else, is ever greater than a part.

When the architect intends a grand structure, he makes the foundation broad and strong. We should imitate this prudence in laying the foundations of the future republic.

If we would reach a degree of civilization higher and grander than any yet attained, we should welcome to our ample continent all the nations, kindreds, tongues and peoples, and as fast as they learn our language and comprehend the duties of citizenship, we should incorporate them into the American body politic. The outspread wings of the American eagle are broad enough to shelter all who are likely to come.

The great right of migration and the great wisdom of incorporating foreign elements into our body politic, are founded not upon any genealogical or ethnological theory, however learned, but upon the broad fact of a common nature.

Man is man the world over. This fact is affirmed and admitted in any effort to deny it. The sentiments we exhibit, whether love or hate, confidence or fear, respect or contempt, will always imply a like humanity. A smile or a tear has no nationality. Joy and sorrow speak alike in all nations, and they above all the confusion of tongues proclaim the brotherhood of man.

Let the Chinaman come; he will help to augment the national wealth; he will help to develop our boundless resources; he will help to pay off our national debt; he will help to lighten the burden of our national taxation; he will give us the benefit of his skill as manufacturer and as a tiller of the soil, in which he is unsurpassed.

Even the matter of religious liberty, which has cost the world more tears, more blood and more agony, than any other interest, will be helped by his presence. I know of no church, however tolerant; of no priesthood, however enlightened, which could be safely trusted with the tremendous power which universal conformity would confer. We should welcome all men of every shade of religious opinion, as among the best means of checking the arrogance and intolerance which are the almost inevitable concomitants of general conformity. Religious liberty always flourishes best amid the clash of competition of rival religious creeds.

To the mind of superficial men the future of different races has already brought disaster and ruin upon the country. The poor Negro has been charged with all our woes. In the haste of these men they forget that our trouble was not ethnological, but moral, that it was not difference of complexion, but difference of conviction. It was not the Ethiopian as a man, but the Ethiopian as a slave and a coveted article of merchandise, that gave us trouble.

I close these remarks as I began. If our action shall be in accordance with the principles of justice, liberty, and perfect human equality, no eloquence can adequately portray the greatness and grandeur of the future of the republic.

We shall spread the network of our science and our civilization over all who seek their shelter, whether from Asia, Africa, or the isles of the sea. We shall mold them all, each after his kind, into Americans; Indian and Celt, Negro and Saxon, Latin and Teuton, Mongolian and Caucasian, Jew and gentile, all shall here bow to the same law, speak the same language, support the same government, enjoy the same liberty, vibrate with the same national enthusiasm, and seek the same national ends.

Douglass, Frederick. The Essential Douglass: Selected Writings and Speeches. Hackett Publishing Company, Inc.. Kindle Edition. 

(I will leave it as an exercise for the reader to speculate as to what Douglass would advise 21st-century America to do with refugees seeking asylum on our shores from war and persecution. Let them in, or turn them away?)

Grandfather Mountain

Once a month, Nina and I set aside a whole day to spend together doing something fun or adventurous (ideally, both). Today we drove to Grandfather Mountain, a privately owned preserve about 80 miles from Asheville. It's a lovely place, with stunning views in every direction.

It's been a while since I bragged about the beauty of western North Carolina by sharing some photos, so let's fix that now. (Right click/open link in new tab to see them full size.)


The aptly named Split Rock:

Immediately adjacent to Split Rock is this one, which they call Sphinx Rock. Yes, the entire thing (estimated to weigh 4000 tons) is resting on the small rock under it.

The Rickety Bridge of Certain Death. Well, that's what it felt like walking across. It's possible that's not its official name.

Grandfather Mountain actually has several peaks on the same base. This is the tallest one, seen from one of the more accessible ones.

Just a few random dramatic views:

Here's a couple of shots rendered in black and white, all Ansel-Adams-like. (People often say his work was nearly as good as mine.)

And finally, here's a cute river otter from one of their animal habitats:

Oh, one more thing: On the road up to the summit, signs identify one short stretch as "Forrest Gump Curve." Turns out that a bit of Forrest's famous run was filmed there. You can see it in this clip, from 3:58 to 4:04--just six seconds long.

When NOT to be polite: A traffic warning

Yesterday I witnessed a traffic accident. I saw it coming, but could do nothing to warn the drivers involved. Strangely, it was caused by a misplaced act of politeness. It's a situation I've seen many times, and it's always clear that those involved haven't really thought through how their politeness is creating a serious danger. So now that I've seen my fears realized, I think it's time that I put this out into the world, because I've never seen it discussed anywhere before.

Here's the set-up. It's rush hour on a four-lane city street. (This was Asheville's Charlotte Street just north of the I-240 overpass, though it could have been just about anywhere.) There's a long line of southbound cars at a red light. There's a northbound car wanting to make a left turn across the southbound lanes onto a small side street. Let's call her Driver A. She's a middle-aged woman in a Toyota Prius in this specific instance, though that's all irrelevant.

Driver B is in a small truck, in the left-hand southbound lane. He or she (I couldn't see the driver) sees that Driver A is going to have to wait forever to get an opening to turn left. So when it's his turn to start moving forward under the green light, he instead waits, and waves to Driver A to go.

Unfortunately, Driver A does not have a clear view of the southbound RIGHT-hand lane. There's not a car immediately adjacent to Driver B, or even a little way back, so Driver A goes. But what she doesn't see is the car that's coming.

I was four or five cars behind Driver B, so I saw Driver A starting to make her turn at the same time as I saw another car--Driver C--zipping along in the relatively clear right-hand lane next to me. I could see both of them, but neither of them could see the other. So they collided--right front corner of A to left front corner of C. (Because this is Asheville, Driver C was also a woman in a Toyota Prius. Yes, really.)

Neither driver was apparently injured, but A's car had a wheel bent badly enough that it couldn't even be driven far enough to clear the road. I saw her turning the steering wheel, trying to move her car, and the right front wheel was not turning with it. Broken axle or tie rod, maybe?

Driver A will clearly get ticketed for making a left turn when it wasn't clear to do so. And well she should. She was indisputably at fault. But if there were such a thing as an "assist" in the sphere of moving violations, we'd have to award it to Driver B. It was her yielding her right of way to Driver A that caused the problem. It lured her into an unsafe situation.

If you stop to think about it, you can imagine other ways that this scenario can go wrong besides the most obvious one that was played out yesterday:

• Driver A recognizes the danger and hesitates making the turn. Finally she works up her nerve, but at just the same moment, Driver B has given up, having decided that A isn't ever going to go, and she can't keep on holding up the line forever, because cars behind her are starting to honk their horns. So A and B collide. 
• Driver A goes halfway, turning in front of B but waiting to go the rest of the way until she gets a better view of the right-hand lane. But just when she concludes that it's clear, the car immediately behind A gets tired of waiting, and whips into the right lane to go around. Crash.

I've been Driver A countless times, faced with a polite but not clear-thinking Driver B, who can't understand why I'm not taking advantage of his or her generosity. Well, it's because I can't be sure that the OTHER lane is safe to cross. There's no way to communicate this by hand gestures, so I've seen many of them finally get an annoyed look on their face and accelerate rapidly past me. 

There's a Pedestrian Corollary to this scenario that frightens me even more. I'm pretty diligent about stopping for pedestrians trying to cross the street, but most drivers around me are not. Several times I've had a car behind me see me stop, and just move into the other lane to go around me without even slowing down. If I'm in the left lane and the pedestrian is coming from the left, or if I'm in the right lane with the pedestrian coming from the right, this is fraught with the danger of the pedestrian crossing safely in front of my stopped car, only to get plastered by the jerk zooming around me. And, again, there's not a damn thing I can do about it, except maybe hit the horn. Fortunately, so far all of the pedestrians involved have been sufficiently wary to wait until it's clear. 

The scenarios are less problematic when Driver B is in the right lane, because Driver A can easily see the left lane for herself. But they're still not problem-free, because of an impatient driver zipping around B at just the wrong time and smashing into A just as she starts the turn. 

Note that these scenarios are NOT problematic when there's only one lane. In that case, when you stop to let somebody turn in front of you, there's no danger of unseen traffic in an adjacent lane. 

Asheville drivers are, on average, more polite to each other than those of any other city I've lived in. (I wish they were just as polite to pedestrians, but that's still kind of foreign to the driving culture here.) However, there are situations where being polite creates a needless hazard that may not be perceived until it's too late. 

Politeness between drivers must be tempered by keen situational awareness, and a healthy respect for the worst-case scenario. Sometimes it's best not to yield your right of way, and just go when it's your turn. 

ADDENDUM: I found the accident report online, in case you want to look at it. I was curious to see if Driver A had, in fact, been cited, but the "citations" section is blank. Awaiting further investigation, perhaps?

Cyclocross at Biltmore

Yesterday Nina and I tried what was a completely new experience for both of us: watching a cyclocross race. It was held at the famous Biltmore Estate, which is just a couple of miles from Nina's house. Cyclocross is sort of like a steeplechase for cyclists. It's cross-country, meaning mostly not on pavement, but with nasty obstacles thrown in, like giant mudholes, and hills that are too steep to ride.

Nina has a new camera, and we both thought it would be fun to try our hands at fast action shots. It gave me a new appreciation for professional sports photographers. It is not easy to anticipate what will be worth taking a picture of, when it will happen, how to frame the shot to capture both the action and the competitor's face, and do all that while being aware of light/shadow conditions, obstacles, extraneous elements, and a hundred other things.

We watched a 45-minute race that actually included separate men's and women's races with staggered starts. We paid no attention to who was winning, but just enjoyed watching them negotiate tricky spots on the course. Much of our time was spent at a nasty series of hairpin turns coming steeply down the side of a hill. The men were mostly looking pretty stoic, but the women tended to wear their emotions on their faces, showing pain, determination, alarm, or even elation:

But before getting to coast around those downhill twisties, they first had to get up the hill. There were only two ways to do it--push the bike, or pick it up and carry it.

(Do not adjust your set. The sky really was that blue--no digital enhancement.) 

Well, that's not quite true. A very, very few of the strongest competitors were able to ride straight up--which, when you're standing on the side watching, looks like you're seeing something physically impossible transpire before your very eyes.

But you know who I admired most? It wasn't the elite cyclists whose incredibly muscled legs let them defy gravity. It was this woman:

She is obviously not as highly conditioned as most of the other racers. She may not love having to buy her spandex clothes in larger sizes. She was not in contention for one of the prizes. She clearly doesn't have as many hours in the saddle as others, which you can tell from the way she has already taken her feet off of the pedals in anticipation of having difficulty managing the gnarly turn she's about to hit. (We watched several people take tumbles when they misjudged it.) And I suspect she noticed that some of the bystanders snickered as she rode past. But she was out there giving it her all, while those judging her were just standing around. She could absolutely beat me around that course, and probably many of them, too. Plus, she's working on getting better at it, while I'm sitting on my butt in front of my computer. So my hat is off to her for taking on the challenge instead of just vegetating.

Speaking of the spectators, they were having a grand old time, what with ringing cowbells and cheering on friends and/or giving them a little friendly trash talking, sometimes through megaphones. Two stood out. First was this woman:

She obviously knew a lot of the riders and would taunt them by name as they sped by. Sometimes she would reach out and poke them with her stick, offering to give them a "hand." (Nobody seemed bothered by this. I gather that these are highly  informal competitions.) Her best moment came in that super-tricky turn. She yelled through her megaphone at one rider, "No front brake! NO FRONT BRAKE!" [Wipeout.] "Told ya!"

But nobody was having a better time than this kid:

He'd shout and ring his cowbell as loudly as he could at just about every rider that came his way. His enthusiasm was delightful and contagious.

I enjoyed the few minutes we had to watch the cyclists relaxing near the finish line, while waiting for the last stragglers to come in. Notice that this young woman is in bike shorts and a short-sleeved shirt, but sweating, while the more sedentary among us were freezing despite heavy coats because of a nasty cold wind.

All in all, it was a fun and beautiful afternoon at Biltmore.

Addendum: Nina's pictures are here.