Ariolimax columbianus

To say my progress on recently announced projects has been sluggish would be an insult to the greater mollusk phylum.

Indeed, the albino banana slug (Ariolimax columbianus) pictured above, who posed seductively for me in the rainforest of Pacific Rim National Park, might have blazed the trail from Bamfield to Tofino in just the time I’ve wasted trying to figure out how to install Amazon’s “KindleGen” eBook file converter.

Really, is this the best the digital book-selling titan can do?

If anyone has any tips on how to even install this POS on my Mac, I’d be eternally grateful. Then again, maybe not.

After downloading it, I had to roam the Internet just to understand that this was a “command line program.” The Amazon download page provided not a scrap of guidance. In other words, the geeks at Amazon assume that writers will want to burn up precious braincells struggling to decipher ancient hieroglyphics, instead of writing their latest novel.

A Google search returned a slew of other equally-frustrated would-be digital publishers, asking the same question.

This post from S POLLARD, on the Amazon Kindle Publishing Forum, pretty much sums up my feelings:

“Note to Amazon technical staff: please can we have a simple, normal, Mac installer. You know, one of those things with an icon we just drag into our Applications folder. Having to mess around with readme.txt files that contain inaccurate nonsense is pretty frustrating. If we wanted this sort of hassle we wouldn’t be Mac users – we’d still be on PCs. Sorry to go off on one, (sic) but it happens to be true. For a company that claims to be at the leading edge of technology, and is encouraging its customers to join in, publishing via Kindle, this is a shambles.”

One could spend days reading reams of forum fomentations, but this programmer’s observation says it all:

“Well, as a highly-experienced programmer, I have to say, if you release a command-line program in the age of GUI [graphical user interface], you will get users complaining. Just sayin.”

Meanwhile, the Apple app iBooks Author and its “onerous” user agreement everyone’s been complaining about has given me a simple GUI to create a book in minutes.

Once again, Apple gets it, that people just want to be creative, not programmers.

But, just in case you take me for an Apple acolyte, what the hell were Apple developers thinking when they took away the “save as” function? I’m ready to desert Pages altogether! Apple, Why would you do this!?

Again, forums are exploding with indignant users who, through no fault of their own, can no longer figure out how to do a simple thing like save a file.

I’m not privy to the inner workings of Amazon or Apple, but I think this is what happens when the development team is run by programmers. They deserve respect for laying the foundations, but their work is useless without translation into an interface that schmucks like me can use.

While the eBook idea falters (or at least the idea of offering multiple formats), I’ve been working behind-the-scenes on other hands-on bicycle projects.

This stuff, notwithstanding non-standard crown races and such, is straight-forward. The plan is to make them intelligible to ordinary cyclists, or would-be cyclists, not just bike geeks.

I’m hoping they will be ready for prime-time before spring rolls around … not that I’d want to delay blossoms and sunshine.

I don’t know about you, but I need a dose of Monty Python.

Click here to view the embedded video.

And now for something completely different

 
You might also appreciate the efforts of Keith Snyder and authors of Ride: Short Fiction About Bicycles, who have waded through the complexities of eBook publishing to bring you the first edition, in multiple formats, including Amazon Kindle.

5 am. Insomnia.

I awake from a dream of dirty glasses, crayfish, frogs. We have visitors. Will they want to stay, knowing the state of our glassware?

We’ve moved houses. Not because we wanted to. Because we had to. We failed to notice the house was within spitting distance of a busy train track.

It’s windy outside. Not in a dream. For real. The trees murmur.

And there’s an irritating drone somewhere in the neighbourhood. An apartment fan perhaps. With a worn bearing.

We’re the other side of Woden’s Day. The outcome of the battle is uncertain.

Thor wants a piece of the action now. He wields his hammer in the dawn.

Sorry about the dirty glasses.

I hope you’ll come back when we’ve tidied up.

I’ve spent the last 36 hours playing with Apple’s new eBook editing application, iBooks Author. I must say, after some initial confusion, caused by looking for options that this tool leaves behind, I’m impressed.

Before I go further, let me explain that this editor is meant to produce books for the iPad. That means you can’t view publications generated by iBooks Author on your iPhone, Kindle, or other reader. The iBooks 2.0 textbook format is tied to iBooks 2.0 on iPads.

It uses a whole new kind of file system, with proprietary code—apparently a strange new brew of ePub3, CSS, XHTML5, and other secret ingredients.

For codeophobes like me, this is irrelevant; though I’ve read that the modified CSS is non-standard. Again, this is unlikely to affect anyone outside the development community … or is it? I won’t pretend to fully understand the ramifications of the decisions Apple has made with this new standard, but web developer Baldur Bjarnason has plenty to say on the subject.

The biggest confab surrounds the iBooks Author Licence Agreement, which begins with the proviso

IMPORTANT NOTE:
If you charge a fee for any book or other work you generate using this software (a “Work”), you may only sell or distribute such Work through Apple (e.g., through the iBookstore) and such distribution will be subject to a separate agreement with Apple.

I’m not sure that this is much different than what Amazon attempts to do with its Kindle format.

Apple wants to own some of the lucrative digital publishing business. It is targeting the educational market with the initial textbook templates that come with the app.

Like its competitors, it will take 30 percent of the profits, thank you very much. That means you keep 70 percent.

The main issue I see for publishers is the need to create multiple formats to reach all potential readers. This is already the case, but other formats are more easily converted. It looks like Apple’s bespoke format precludes that option.

As I announced last month, I will soon add an e-book store to VeloWeb. These considerations—what formats to offer and how to generate them—are responsible for slowing my entry into the brave new world of digital self-publishing. I want to do it right.

I’ve been fiddling with the latest version of Pages (yes, another Apple product), which can export documents as ePubs, but have found the learning curve rather steep.

Admittedly, I can’t provide a comparative review here, because my experience with eBook editing tools is limited, but here’s what I’ve found so far with iBooks Author:

• The help menu is well-organized and clear. It’s what technical writing should look like.
• The layout is clean and intuitive—particularly for Mac users familiar with Keynote.
• Mac users will also take to the toolbar, inspector, media browser, etc.
• Chapters,  sections, and pages are simple to add and edit.
• Templates are easy to use and modify.
• Widgets enable drag-and-drop of multi-media, including photo galleries, video, Keynote, and 3-D objects.
• Preview (just plug in an iPad and open iBooks) is a breeze.
• Table of contents is generated automatically and can be modified in the inspector.
• Glossary creation is a no-brainer. Glossaries can be used in place of expiry-prone hyperlinks. Readers click on a glossary term and get a short definition (written concisely, by you). The option is then provided to consult the dictionary, search the Web, or Wikipedia. I love glossaries!
• Allows export as PDF
• It’s, like, totally WYSIWYG.
• It’s free!

In short, the first publication you’re likely to see at the VeloWeb Book Store, will be made with this shiny new toy. Of course, in accordance with the licence agreement, I’ll be giving it away.

For the iPadless, I will also offer a PDF version. What formats would you like me to offer?

I’d also appreciate hearing from publishers who have experience with other authoring tools.

The work associated with establishing the book store and stocking its shelves (I’ve worked through the weekend) will eat into the time I can spend on this blog.

Still, I’ll try to post a couple of times a week, as usual. However, content will likely be of the Reader’s Digest condensed version. I will alert you to new content on VeloWeb, and progress on the first eBook.

I awoke this morning to a strangely quiet neighbourhood. The silence was unusual, because I’m usually disturbed—often before I’d like—by footfall, voices, and the more annoying roar of engines.

When I cracked the blinds, I discovered a world muffled in white; the snow flurries of Tuesday had turned into a full-blown blizzard, driven by a rambunctious wind.

With hot tea in hand, I turned to Twitter for my morning news. No surprise, the local stream chirped out warnings of tangled traffic, and the occasional encomium to the belated Christmas card landscape.

The City tweeted for patience.

On my street at least, it seemed drivers had heeded the warning, suddenly thankful for public transit (and its dedicated operators), or perhaps Tuesday night’s black-ice-capades had put a dent in rush-hour.

I checked the TV news. Roadsides are littered with abandoned cars, transport trucks deliver their cargo into ditches, tow truck companies and plough operators work overtime. The Insurance Corporation of British Columbia’s phones are ringing off the hook. The “traffic report” covers this as if it is normal.

Back in Twitterland, city police beg for common sense (a tall order in calm weather) on the roads.

As I prepare the hard drugs—fresh-ground Peruvian—I notice the real-world twitterverse is busier on the other side of the kitchen window. The avian menagerie has more serious work to do, consuming calories to survive the hard night ahead.

Usually, I chase these lovely creatures in thicket and bog, for no other reason than to share their company … and perhaps take home a “trophy” that reminds me of the rules of nature. Behind my camera, I try (perhaps in vain) to transcend the Age of Reason.

In my back yard, on this winter day, juncos, chickadees, sparrows and nuthatches remind me again that conservation is the foundation of survival. These little guys have no way out of the equation.

Neither do we “naked apes”–as much as we like to imagine ourselves immune to the rules that govern “lesser creatures”—have any other options, unless one imagines the exploitation of other planets. But that—as yet unrealized fantasy—avoids the most important question facing the human race: Do you want to be here?

If the answer to that question is “yes,” then the 21st century corollary is, what are you gonna do to preserve Earth?”

The hard fourth season traditionally challenges humans to examine the gifts of this place, sharing the same (perhaps in bird feeders), while hoping for a return to plenty.

The seeds of global survival are sewn locally, where neighbourhoods understand, without consulting the the stock market, the “limits of growth.”

We can plan the quiet streets we rarely experience outside of extreme weather events, before they are stilled by “future shock.”

We can make a difference. If nothing else, it’s for the birds.

UPDATE (January 20):

Following mass protests on Wednesday that included blackouts of popular websites like Wikipedia and Reddit, U.S. lawmakers halted the SOPA/PIPA bills on Friday. The Financial Post reports that

Support for the two bills has eroded over the past 48 hours after some of the world’s largest Web companies came out against the bills, claiming the legislation could threaten the business models of legitimate Web-based companies.

Does the outcry drive a stake through the heart of these bills? Mashable reports that they may not be quite dead yet.

“SOPA and PIPA are dead, but only in the way a zombie is dead.” The takeaway being that they will inevitably be re-written and reintroduced after the furor has died down.

Today, major websites, like  WordPress,Wikipedia, Reddit, Mozilla, and BoingBoing, will go dark to protest against two US. bills—the Stop Online Piracy Act (SOPA) and the Protect IP Act (PIPA)—which attempt to enforce intellectual property rights with a very broad set of provisions opponents fear would stifle online innovation.

This is U.S. legislation, right? So why should Canucks care?

As Michael Geist, a law professor at the University of Ottawa, has explained (though you’ll have to wait a day to read his blog; he’s also shutting down today in protest) trade ties, in particular the Trans Pacific Partnership, and the digital lock rules in our own Bill C-11, make it inevitable that Canada will be affected by these developments.

To voice your concerns, email consultations@international.gc.ca. Or fax (613-944-3489)

Snailmail: (Trade Negotiations Consultations (TPP), Foreign Affairs and International Trade Canada, Trade Policy and Negotiations Division II (TPW), Lester B. Pearson Building, 125 Sussex Drive, Ottawa, Ontario K1A 0G2).

U.S. Readers can lobby via Stop American Censorship
Protest SOPA
Google: End Piracy, Not Liberty

There’s a tradition over on Twitter, known as MusicMonday, when people (AKA “tweeps”) share their favourite songs.

I’m not suggesting that I’ll imitate that on VeloWebLog, but today I offer you a look at an innovative bicycle-powered “juke-box” from dutch designers Liat Azulay, Merel Sloother, and Pieter Frank de Jong.

The trio showcased their project at Dezeen Platform in October.

Click here to view the embedded video.

Victoria, British Columbia, holds the distinction of being Canada’s Caribbean.

Situated below the 49th Parallel (48°38’50.010″ N) that demarcates most of the southern border between Canada and the United states, the balmy shores of southern Vancouver Island enjoys some of the most temperate of Temperate Zone weather.

Click here to view the embedded video.

Temperatures

Daily temperatures rise above 30°C on an average only one day per year and fall below -5°C on an average of only 2 nights per year.

Winter average daily high and low temperatures are 8.2°C and 3.6°C. Summers are also mild, with an average high temperature of 19.6 °C and low of 11.3°C.

Precipitation

The Olympic Mountains in Washington State create a rain shadow over Victoria making it the driest place on the B.C. coast. This gives new meaning, beyond a Winter Games’ souvenir, to “Olympic umbrella.”

Annual precipitation totals just 608mm, compared with 1,589mm in Vancouver, 100 km to the north, and 3,671mm at Port Renfrew, 80 km away on the west coast of Vancouver Island. During the summer, Victoria is the driest major city in Canada.

Winter snowfall averages 26cm, yet one third of winters will see little in the way of snow. When the city does get snow, it rarely lasts more than a few days on the ground.

Cycling Centre

Accordingly, Victoria is celebrated as a Canadian cycling Mecca. Rural terrain around the Saanich Peninsula and the hilly Highlands are the training ground for some of Canada’s top racing stars, including Victoria’s own Ryder Hesjedal.

The extensive Galloping Goose and Lochside Trail system, over 100 kilometres in length, is enjoyed by summer recreational riders and year-round bicycle commuters alike.

Do you cycle, or have you cycled, the highways and byways of Victoria? What’s your favourite ride?

I’ve been archiving video recorded on local bike jaunts for a few years now. As we ride into 2012, I’ve finally gotten around to editing it into a little film showcasing year-round cycling forays around Greater Victoria. Come along for the ride.

I am not a bike geek.

This claim is a hard sell to those who know and ride with me, or note the number of bikes in my collection.

Kent Peterson rides his dream bike

(click to enlarge)

But I repeated the claim on Saturday with a comment on a thought-provoking post on Kent Peterson’s blog, in which he explains why he doesn’t buy expensive bicycles.

I’ve been meaning to tackle the subject for some time, so I’ll expand on it here.

I agree with the famous bicycle racer who said It’s Not About the Bike.

This revelation didn’t come from reading the 7-time Tour de France winner’s book, or make its entrance sideways from my run-ins with the crab.

I’m not even that fond of working on bikes; I’m just too cheap (poor) to pay someone else to do it (though I also recognize the benefits of knowing one’s bike from the inside out).

I’m particularly uninterested in the minutia of bike paraphernalia tests and comparisons, and rarely read such tedious fare. In fact, I rarely read anything solely focussed on bicycle mechanics, though I produce such content and make exception for great blogs like Kent’s and the words of good writers who also happen to be cyclists.

The thing that’s so invaluable about bikes is where you can take your mind on one … which is hopefully beyond the mundane details of its components—the bike, I mean.

I’ve called the bicycle a “reverie machine” and that’s what I see as is its greatest value. Sure you can haul your groceries on it, in addition to your own personal baggage, and I’m not saying the cargo bike is not a fine way to carry both.

A whole new genre of bicycle “lifestyle” blogs have sprung up with the intent, it appears, to fight against the corporate helmet conspiracy and promote sartorial cycling with the wearing of tweed skirts and slouch caps.

Personally, I couldn’t care less if someone rides naked (though local authorities may), if that uncovers their dreams.

I’ve often been, as my old friend and fellow bike shop worker Lee Kenney put it recently, one of those “people who supported their habits by working in the trade.”

Even then, I lived under self-imposed austerity. My Nishiki Landau, for instance, was built completely from used parts, with a couple of new additions, such as a Brooks Pro saddle, added at a later date. It was my only bike for over 15 years, and a fine one at that.

Yet I rode guiltily, believing that my cycling prowess did not warrant a finer machine. While my riding/shop-mates gifted themselves custom Roberts and Masis, I took their hand-me-downs—the Nishiki as an example.

Like Mahatma Gandhi, who tested his vow of brahmacharya, or carnal restraint, by sleeping, chastely we are told, between teenage girls, I took pride in adherence to British working-class frugality by ignoring the lure of voluptuous velos, though surrounded by the latest models.

I overcame this peculiar aversion to material extravagance, at least when it comes to bicycle acquisition, only recently.

With the patronage of Rocky Mountain Bicycles, I was able, during a time of severe financial scarcity, to obtain a bike suited to my dream of cycling the back roads of the North, leaving me with enough spare cash to buy pasta.

The “Blizzard” became the second bike in my stable, and I soon found myself addicted to its silky-smooth 7-speed “Hyperdrive” gears. Yes, folks, 1993 was the first year I experienced indexed shifting!

And so began the slow drift into the maw of “must have shiny new bike thing.”

A common reason given—as Peterson did—for passing up “expensive” bikes is the real possibility of losing one to theft. This fear can be assuaged by owning a bike specifically for commuting that is so ugly thieves wouldn’t be caught dead stealing it, and you’d be happy if they did … steal it, that is.

I still have a healthy skepticism for bicycle idolatry and, as I recently griped, I draw the line at disposable toy parts and the annual groupo rollout that looks more like prêt-à-porter than pimp my porteur.

Finally, I agree with Jan Heine, that the best argument in favour of premium bike gear is the quality that should, in theory, free one from tinkering and the need to regularly replace lesser components.

I relieve remnants of abstemious guilt with another fine adage from my English upbringing: “Penny wise, pound foolish.”

Besides, even to someone like myself, impervious to the lurid seductions of polished machinery, is there any more perfect intersection of utility, value, and elegance than that displayed by the German-made Schmidt generator hub?

I neither reject the virtues of utility—that’s why I own several bikes—or the lure of style—lest I be queried on my stint as a fashion photographer.

But, in the end, your dream bike is the bike you’re riding.

Super Dave

It occurred to me the other day, as I was preparing my Marinoni Ciclo for the new year, that I’ve never introduced you to my handlebar mascot, Super Dave.

Dave has been riding with me for almost twenty years.

In the early nineties, I’d often cycle down Vancouver Island to meet a group riding out of Duncan, British Columbia, continuing south with them along the rural roads of the Cowichan Valley.

On one of those rides, we were pedalling briskly along the scenic west side of Shawnigan Lake, when I noticed something flash by my wheel. I continued on a bit, but curiosity got the better of me. I called out to my companions that I was going back to check on something.

There was Dave, supine on the tarmac, luckily unscathed and smiling calmly. I saved him from certain oblivion by logging truck or speeding pickup … and so began our relationship.

You may recall Dave’s alter-ego, Super Dave Osborne. I can attest that my Dave is as dauntless as the famous stuntman.

Dave has surely wondered over the years if becoming the leading edge of my bicycle travels was a better fate than being crushed into West Shawnigan Lake Road.

Zap-strapped to various handlebar stems, he’s been plastered in Yukon bugs, buried in snow, pelted by the relentless rains of rural France, pummelled by Pacific storms, yet he’s never complained.

If only as much could be claimed of his master, for Dave’s greatest trials must be to put up with my ravings.

“So, whose great fucking idea was this ride, Dave? Dave? I said whose fucking idea was this?”

Other captives would have withered under such unwarranted recriminations.

But not Dave.

Dave is the most agreeable cycling companion I’ve ever encountered.

Dave checks out the raging Stikine River, Northern B.C.

But something uncanny, almost disturbing, is beginning to occur: Dave and I are starting to resemble one another.

I’m not sure when this strange shift started, and in which direction—that is, am I turning into Dave, or is my talisman undergoing a toy transmogrification, a kind of plastic surgery in my name?

It’s all a bit unnerving, like some kind of gothic novel or David Byrne lyric (you know the one—“Seen and Not Seen”—about the guy who takes years to will his face into some ideal structure, only to wonder if he’s chosen unwisely).

But there we have it. I particularly noticed the similarity as I was taking Dave’s portrait for this post. There he is, grinning back at me through the viewfinder.

“Hey, peckerhead! Let’s go find a headwind to destroy!”

And I’ll see your true colors
Shining through
I see your true colors
And that’s why I love you
So don’t be afraid to let them show ~Cyndi Lauper

Planning and executing an adventure, whether a bicycle ride or the greater journey of life, can be seen in the same light as creating a painting.

Comments on a recent post inspired this line of thought.

Just as great adventures leave us with vivid memories, we can colour the future with bold dreams, as we brighten the present with imaginative outlines.

Even if you choose to set your sights on a well-worn path, blaze every trail as if it were terra incognita; no one else mixes exactly the same hue as you. Don’t brush aside the chance to leave your mark.

What colour will you paint 2012?

Don’t be afraid to stray a little bit outside the lines.