tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-238114312009-12-01T17:31:17.221-08:00'Seize the day'. Or the yarn. Or the fibre! Thoughts and questions about the things that interest me, in hope that you'll be interested too, or be able to answer the questions...sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16291326380557787987noreply@blogger.comBlogger154125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23811431.post-49243980567508040252009-11-28T06:43:00.001-08:002009-11-28T09:24:05.424-08:00

for local people... (joke credit: The League of Gentlemen)So over on Ravelry Lynn promised she'd post a local walk if I did. Mine starts in the village, with a photo looking back at the Old Bakehouse, the cream building on the right. The bakery closed decades ago, long before we moved here in the late 1980s; the house and outbuildings housed a variety of small businesses until last year, when

sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16291326380557787987noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23811431.post-87044612271783207382009-11-15T02:37:00.000-08:002009-11-15T08:56:55.075-08:00

But I have more than memories.Spirit Trail 'Blue Jeans' silk/cashmere and Spindlewood spindle, 10g, birds-eye mapleWhen I was trying to decide whether to try for SOAR I spent a lot of time googling for hard information about it. What actually happened? OK, it was clearly memorable, even life-changing, and people had fun and drank a lot, but what did they learn? Having been, I now understand why

sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16291326380557787987noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23811431.post-45578499853888608312009-10-29T21:06:00.001-07:002009-10-29T21:06:32.979-07:00

I walked to the Lodge for Registration with some trepidation: I knew *nobody* here In Real Life, only as digital entities on Ravelry and via email. I'd tried to memorise ravatars, but I'm bad at faces, and pictures of someone's dog or favourite FO are no help at all...Abby was unmistakable, and gave me the first of many, many SOAR hugs (for which I later gave her the beer I'd brought from England

sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16291326380557787987noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23811431.post-42865378840034044512009-10-25T12:52:00.001-07:002009-10-25T12:52:23.430-07:00

Mt Bachelor at 0730 this morning. After a brisk walk during which I saw a family of otters in the river!!! And a deer. And a dead garter snake :-( I decided to try the gym. Which was good - but the spa pools afterward are even better. Registration next, then the fun really begins :-)-- posted on the move

sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16291326380557787987noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23811431.post-47917001935154284652009-10-24T14:55:00.000-07:002009-10-24T14:56:02.315-07:00

Almost there-- posted on the move

sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16291326380557787987noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23811431.post-10421829245048247632009-10-24T11:17:00.000-07:002009-10-24T14:54:45.515-07:00

As it has rained every second day of this roadtrip, I was not surprised to see the parking lot full of puddles on Friday morning. Even deserts need some water. This section of road was so familiar to me. Even after 40 years I recognised some of the grades, the turns, the landscape. One of the strangest things about this trip is the speed with which the landscape became? reverted to? familiarity.

sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16291326380557787987noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23811431.post-85374164768305702172009-10-23T22:42:00.000-07:002009-10-23T22:43:07.723-07:00

A hotel in the centre of Nelson seemed a good idea late on a wet afternoon, but the nightlife proved excessively noisy. Who'd have expected nightlife on a Wednesday evening? And he's pulled a back muscle lifting my suitcase. So we were not at our best as we headed west on Hwy 3.I drove, ostensibly to save his back.That's checking the side mirror, not sleeping. The cloud dropped, then lifted.We

sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16291326380557787987noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23811431.post-79428855308992019962009-10-21T18:10:00.001-07:002009-10-21T18:10:53.138-07:00

The forecast had said a weather front was due, so we were not surprised by fog and low cloud as we left Coeur d'Alene. I'd forgotten how North American cities and towns sprawl out along major roads, mall after car dealer after mall; UK planning regs prevent this.The road heads north, through narrowing valleys. Trees line the road, dark conifers a perfect backdrop for fire-gold aspen and birch.

sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16291326380557787987noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23811431.post-55321870059756699342009-10-20T20:51:00.001-07:002009-10-20T20:51:19.851-07:00

After a leisurely breakfast at the Co-op in Bozeman (wi-fi! Excellent muffins!) we spent an enjoyable couple of hours in the Museum of the Rockies. We thought it was very well done indeed: they've tried very hard to engage the visitor, getting us to think about what the dinosaur bones tell us about the animals. The text is simple but elegant and, when a technical term is needed, it is explained

sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16291326380557787987noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23811431.post-50934284626393069832009-10-20T17:15:00.002-07:002009-10-20T17:16:00.551-07:00

Dinner at Ted Turner's bison restaurant that night was the first time in six years that we'd all been in one room. The trip to Yellowstone on Monday was the longest period we'd ever spent together. It was good. The road led to Livingstone and a great breakfast at Chadz, then on through the mountains to a high, dry valley: more sagebrush and grasses. An exclamation from the back seat: "There's a

sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16291326380557787987noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23811431.post-34415690327790627152009-10-20T17:15:00.001-07:002009-10-20T17:15:46.154-07:00

An uneventful Air Canada flight ended in Calgary, Alberta, where we spent three days with family. I renewed my love affair with North American food, we wandered through malls bemused by the mass, volume and variety of STUFF available. On Sunday morning we headed south in convoy with more family to visit yet more family in Montana. Southern Alberta is as beautiful as I'd remembered, so beautiful

sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16291326380557787987noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23811431.post-65114567843149584192009-07-23T03:49:00.000-07:002009-07-23T08:36:42.412-07:00

This is a long one. You might want to make a cup of coffee/tea/hot chocolate before starting...So instead of camping just south of Kylesku, we spent Wednesday night in a hotel in Inverness. If you've never carried a pack in weather that hot you may not fully comprehend the sheer blissfulness of our first showers; I was also slightly horrified by the salt encrustations on my underwear. Drinking

sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16291326380557787987noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23811431.post-31220813136077965212009-07-08T01:58:00.000-07:002009-07-08T04:09:07.501-07:00

or, as I prefer to think of it: bad timing, but a good time.As you read this, bear in mind that I am very, very bad at hot weather. I was born and raised in a cold country and I just can't cope with heat. Unfortunately, our second try for this coincided with an unprecedented heat wave across the UK, with temperatures exceeding 30C in southern England: even Scotland was in the high 20s (unheard of

sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16291326380557787987noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23811431.post-22005913544603775322009-06-13T03:02:00.000-07:002009-06-13T03:39:51.233-07:00

It's usually considered best to start at the beginning and proceed to the end. There's no end in sight, though. A couple of weeks ago I watched with interest as a friend blended her colours for the Rampton Project 2009 on her Louet drum carder. I eventually asked if I could borrow it, and recently I tried it for myself. I don't think I've put the Romney fleece on record (can you sense my

sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16291326380557787987noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23811431.post-893386859258350972009-05-31T02:01:00.000-07:002009-05-31T02:54:48.202-07:00

It's a British expression, usually used by a footballer when asked what it feels like to be on the losing side. I'd never thought much about what it meant, but now I know: it's feeling emptied, as though something integral to your being has been ripped bodily away. In short, we bailed the trip on the second day. It started well...In fact it started with hilarity. That's the tourist information

sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16291326380557787987noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23811431.post-19559164368591924982009-05-18T00:14:00.000-07:002009-05-18T02:58:39.216-07:00

Saturday was a good day. We try to alternate hard and easy weekend walks and, as our date with the Sutherland Trail approaches, we're reluctant to push really hard: if we overstrain our knees now, we'll regret it. Reason for a London walk :-) The unforgiving pavement makes even an 8 mile/13km walk seem hard, but the low mileage leaves our knees happy – and we get to eat good food and see strange

sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16291326380557787987noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23811431.post-42594071927733688232009-05-12T02:28:00.000-07:002009-05-12T02:44:28.227-07:00

Two. Three...It occurred to me that if I had a blog app for the iPhone and if I had a signal and if I had dry weather I might be able (if not asleep) to post during our walk. 'signal' is extraordinarily unlikely, but I'm testing Blogpress just in case.It seems to do words. There's a button for photos, I feel compelled to press it...The world did not end (well, it wasn't a RED button) and it seems

sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16291326380557787987noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23811431.post-50181558939834280732009-05-10T09:12:00.000-07:002009-05-10T10:00:01.473-07:00

Silly things to do on a walk: No. 1Imagine walking across this vast field on a lovely sunny afternoon. Be invisible (it's your imagination, you can do it) so as not to disturb two people having an intense discussion, one waving something in its hand in the air. Drift closer and discover it's us, me and him, trying to work out what/where that distinctive 'lump' on the horizon might be. Could it be

sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16291326380557787987noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23811431.post-2300558119093232292009-05-03T06:23:00.000-07:002009-05-03T08:35:15.413-07:00

RIP, Aeolian ShawlPhysical and mental. Let's get the mental over first. In short, my cunning plan proved to be a turnip: yes, a hammer trumps a bead every time (ok, might take two or three careful blows) but, where my trial beads turned into glittering dust, those on the shawl shattered into shards. Sharp ones. After cheerfully demolishing about 20 beads I realised the fragments had cut the yarn

sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16291326380557787987noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23811431.post-61817583822306376762009-04-26T06:31:00.001-07:002009-04-27T01:04:05.053-07:00

That's what this is. Remember that post about colour blending with handcards in which I mentioned the 2009 Rampton Project? I said I was going to make a bag for my head? I've made some decisions since then. (Well of course I have, that was weeks, er, months ago. Bother. Where has the time gone?)I'm going to make something based on Susette's p-chullo pattern, a simply beautiful hat available free

sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16291326380557787987noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23811431.post-72949288811237367302009-03-28T02:38:00.000-07:002009-03-28T03:59:18.302-07:00

Here's a recipe for cinnamon-pecan-raisin sticky buns. With the dough rising at cool room temperature this batch took about 8 hours from start to finish; I made the dough at about 0900 and took the end result out of the oven at about 1700. I froze half, and we're eating the rest for weekend breakfast reheated sticky-side-up in a 100°C oven for about 8–10 minutes. I used a pan 13"x8"x1.5"; if you

sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16291326380557787987noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23811431.post-58288506106511971972009-03-24T05:25:00.000-07:002009-03-24T07:20:04.478-07:00

We haz it. Life feels a bit like an avalanche might at the moment, just at the start when everything is slowly but inevitably obeying the force of gravity, with me balancing in the middle juggling rocks. The goal? end? is our walk in Sutherland. The rocks are training for it, checking and acquiring gear, work, cutting the lawn, doing the ironing, knitting and spinning and just... everything.

sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16291326380557787987noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23811431.post-54518030767604818062009-03-16T08:45:00.000-07:002009-03-16T09:55:44.793-07:00

or Why we get up at 5am to drive 3 hours to the Peak District :-)There's a New Toy at the end, so persevere!We are in training for the spring backpacking trip. Seventy miles across Sutherland (northern Scotland was Sutherland (southern land) to the Vikings) from Lochinver to Tongue. The plan is to allow 5 days for walking plus a day for playing on Foinaven, finishing with a couple of luxurious

sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16291326380557787987noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23811431.post-8241217387185875632009-02-28T03:46:00.000-08:002009-02-28T06:01:49.244-08:00

Well, actually they're made of singles and win. Simultaneously. Isn't that clever? They are clever. I learned of them from Abby Franquemont and, just after Christmas 2008, when I decided I could not spin another millimetre on my Victoria, I wound the singles I'd created so far for a 2-ply project off the Louet bobbins into plying balls with the intention of trying the technique.That's Treenways

sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16291326380557787987noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23811431.post-7747682644786789902009-02-24T02:11:00.000-08:002009-02-26T02:26:34.858-08:00

So... we marched on through the damp, me feeling terribly guilty that the wet tent made his pack even heavier than before (this trip had been my idea, after all. I'd said I'd do it with or without him). Near Kirkton Farm the path runs past an open cowshed full of straw. It was about 0745 when I said rather wistfully that it would have been a good place to spend a dry night and then, as two

sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16291326380557787987noreply@blogger.com2