Trishock

Preface

An elemental part of me has always been attracted to mountains. To me the sight of a snow-capped peak symbolizes a certain level of wildness and commitment to adventure that other environments rarely provide. Last spring I hiked an extended section of the Appalachian Trail in Maine. Preparing for the trek gave me focus and a desire to progress forward. Months after I completed my walk in the wilds of Maine, I began to sense a void in my life. I had nothing that I was moving toward. My success on the trail inflated my ambition and I was soon pondering a more committing, audacious adventure. I wanted to move up in the world and test myself on a true mountain. Something with glaciers, bulk, and formidable size. This eliminated anything in the east, and I eventually ended up throwing caution to the wind and focusing on the most glaciated peak in the contiguous United States: Mount Rainier.

Last December I received a note from an old high school friend who invited me to go skiing. I obliged, and it took less than 15 minutes for me to blurt out the details of my next adventure. The excitement was likely apparent as I outlined my intentions, and there was evidently enough energy behind my descriptions to convince Matthew to join me. Up until this point, I had been operating under the pretense that I would be pursuing this objective alone. A majority of my friends lack interest in such activities, or cannot afford them. Matt was the rare case that didn't fall into both categories.

With a new goal in mind, I began to prepare. It took many months to schedule everything, purchase necessary gear, and physically train for the climb. As a somewhat excessively detail-oriented individual, I tracked all expenses, purchases, and dates with the utmost care. I can tell you exactly how much I paid for the entire trip, to rent gear, or to purchase food. This is a process that I go through so as to not mask the true cost of such adventures. It's easy to lose sight of the expenses these trips incur since the costs are distributed over long periods of time. Organization pays off in other ways as well. I returned and exchanged many items that I purchased, and the organization of receipts and tags made this a smooth process.

Training was considerably more rigorous than my plan for my wilderness trek. I ran 3-4 times a week, sometimes for an hour. I also began to do more technical climbing in a nearby bouldering gym to work on core and upper-body strength. I dislike going into any activity entirely blind, so I arranged to take two mountaineering courses through Eastern Mountain Sports (EMS) that also included an ascent of Mt. Washington in February. I learned all of the basic mountaineering skills and felt much more confident about all the technical aspects of the larger climb to come. Once the time came to leave for Seattle, I was in the best shape of my life. My scrawny 130lb body had bulged to almost 150lbs.

To prepare, I took a few mountaineering classes and climbed Mt. Washington in February

Our flight departed from Cincinnati around 9:30AM, and we landed at a mere 10:42AM in Seattle due to the three hour time change. We were shuttled to and from the airport by Luis and Mike (respectively) who both work for the Bellevue branch of the company that I work for. This saved us the monetary hit of renting a car, but it severely limited us in terms of mobility once in Ashford. After checking into the bunk room at Whittaker's Bunkhouse, we began our first stretch of boredom. We had flown in with a day to spare, since I had planned on one buffer day on each side of the trip. We learned to play a card game named Cuarenta (forty), and even made our own variation of it. Even so, the next few days dragged on forever. After we picked up our rental gear I remember looking at one another and then Matt saying “Let's just go up! We have all the gear!”. Every hour or so we would go outside to scan the horizon and look for any signs of The Mountain, but it never revealed itself among the ever-present blanket of clouds that brought such unpredictable weather to Ashford.

Back to school

When participating in a Rainier Mountaineering (RMI) guided program, it consists of an orientation, a snow school, and the climb itself. At the orientation, the guides give an introduction to the program and verify that the team participants have the necessary gear. Each participant also introduces themselves to the group. The experience of individuals varied, but I was happy to find that I didn't identify anyone that I was concerned about. Numerous participants were marathon (and ultra-marathon, mind you) runners, and a handful had prior climbing experience as well. After everyones gear was thoroughly inspected and approved, we all retreated to our rooms and anxiously waited for the following morning to come when we would finally get on the lower slopes of the mountain.

Before RMI lets you haplessly wander up the mountain, they require that program participants complete a one day snow school that covers the basics of mountaineering. This considerably lowers the liability that clients my pose to guides and themselves once they are roped up on the more dangerous slopes and glaciers found on the upper reaches of the mountain. I enjoyed the training day, and the only new skills were those involved in rope travel. During the training we got our first glimpse of the upper mountain through a break in the clouds. It elicited both excitement and apprehension.

Snow school with Thomas (pictured) and JJ

Our group appeared strong. The amount of praise being distributed to our two teams was seemingly excessive, but I agreed that we all seemed focused and dialed in to our objective. The day ended by walking down to the parking lot in crampons. After the days conclusion, there were some final words from our guides before we were released to relax and mentally prepare for the next two grueling days. I opted to consume the majority of a pizza on my own, where I saw the somewhat famous Peter Whittaker. He seemed occupied, so I stayed focused on my food while he drove off in what I believe was a Chevy Cruze.

The climb

Still yet to fully adjust to the time change, I was up well before it was necessary to be on the first day of the climb. I took my time packing and eating then relaxed for a short while before gearing up and heading out. The weather was looking bleak in Ashford. I had let go of the annoying concept of using garbage bags for my gear, but a small fear of moisture grabbed hold of me as the guides seemed to advocate the use of a garbage bag. I grabbed one but never used it. The drive up to Paradise yielded ever-improving conditions until we were free of any precipitation. We left the parking lot with low visibility. After only an hour, the heat was oppressive and everyone was down to their base layer and climbing pant. As the morning turned to the early afternoon we progressed upwards by placing one foot in front of the other thousands of times. Each step up revealed more of the mountain, and the skies cleared to give us a clear look at our objective. Eventually, Camp Muir was visible and it seemed to be mere minutes away. At such a large scale, and with few reference points, the distance was misleading. It took over a half an hour to reach the small cluster of buildings that seemed so close.

The peaks of the Tatoosh range often pierced the veil of clouds

Our first full-featured view of Mt. Rainier while hiking up to Camp Muir

Resting between pushes up to Camp Muir

Our team was moving like a well-oiled machine

Taking one of our final breaks before reaching Camp Muir

The first hour at Camp Muir was somewhat confusing. Part of you wants nothing more than to drop your pack, lay down, and rest. Not necessarily because you are tired, but because you know that you've just done the easy part and every bit of energy you can conserve will improve your performance for the climb through the night. On the other hand, you want to drink lots of water, eat food, unpack your backpack, make a claim of where you will “sleep”, go over what gear you'll need, re-pack your backpack, choose your snacks, dry your socks, and so many other little things. Being the near obsessive compulsive individual that I am, I kept busy by making lists and shifting my packing strategies to accommodate the oncoming summit attempt.

The stone buildings of Camp Muir

My choice for dinner was macaroni and cheese. I should have stuck with my more standard ramen noodles with a bagel. Either way, there was the issue of what to do with the extra liquids from my meal. The hardcore way is to drink any excess from your food preparation. After some repeated gagging I had most of my hyper-diluted, orange-tinted, now cold cheese water out of the picture. I should have utilized my cooking system from Maine wherein I simply cooked in a thick quart-sized plastic bag and ate out of it. Any remains you did not want were simply stored in the re-sealed bag. I'm not sure what prompted the sudden change. Luckily, I had brought a peanut butter bagel which I enjoyed thoroughly.

Early after arriving at Camp Muir I had made my bedding claim to the least accessible bottom bunk space that was closest to the door. I had foolishly brought a rather aggressively rated sleeping bag and was concerned I was going to fry given the small volume of the bunk house. It was hard to access, but I could still get in and out without stepping on someone. I also had plenty of extra room to dump gear I deemed impossible to leave outside. I did as much as I could to prepare for the final leg of the climb, and once 6pm rolled around everyone began the desperate process of trying to gain some strength by attempting to sleep. Most of us had drank an unearthly amount of water to re-hydrate and combat the effects of the altitude. It came as no surprise that every five to ten minutes the door to the bunk house would open and drag across the iced entrance floor. While there was no true sleep, there were stretches of time that I could not account for where I was in some ill-defined no man's land between consciousness and sleep.

The door flew open and the sound of numerous pairs of hard mountaineering boots alerted everyone that this wasn't a weary sleep-deprived climber returning from one of the now standard restroom breaks. It was a bit after midnight and the time had come. I was not feeling fantastic, but I felt well considering I seemed to have shaken the headache I was grappling with when I first arrived at Camp Muir. I managed to consume a dual serving of oatmeal in the hut, though it wasn't easy. I stepped outside into the dark. The flurry of motion was evident in the gleaming white LED-powered beams that were darting from side to side as climbers prepared their backpacks and roped up. A little past 1AM all of the teams began their march upwards.

The ground danced with headlamp beams as we all readied to climb through the night

The first hours went by with disturbing haste. At night and in the dark, my world was reduced to a small sphere illuminated by my headlamp. Every so often I would power it up to it's maximum capacity only to have the light swallowed by an unmentionable void. Our team would verbally reassure each other sporadically, though we seldom communicated. Only when some hazard posed a threat to climbers behind us was the silence broken. It became colder and colder, and soon I was regretting my decision to deviate from my original plan to use a mid-weight pant base layer on summit day.

A weary climber (me) side-stepping up a moderate slope in the darkness of night (Photo by Kel Rossiter)

Dawn eventually came and brought some much-desired warmth to some chilled climbers (Photo by Kel Rossiter)

There's only one place to go: up! Me with Little Tahoma featured in the background (Photo by Kel Rossiter)

Eventually, the darkness yielded to dawn. The ambient light seemed to change hue and intensity by the minute as the bleached white landscape shifted between shades of blue, gray, and soft orange. My world steadily grew until the sun was above the horizon and I could see the grand scale of the mountain. We had progressed upward further than any other team in the past week had managed. Without an established route past approximately 12,000ft, the teams in the lead were required to kick steps to establish a safe path to move upwards on. Forced to take our high break early by a sizable crevasse above 13,000ft, we sat down for what would become a rather extended break. The snow bridge that had provided the safest crossing was decaying rapidly as climbers worked their way up it.

We take a rest at high break (me on the left) (Photo by Kel Rossiter)

While sitting down during our extended break, I was suddenly overcome by a short episode of nausea. My body had been performing up until this point, and I was somewhat surprised at its complaint. I began to feel cold as we waited for our turn to cross and climb the crevasse. Many other climbing teams began to enter the queue from other guiding agencies. Jokes likening the scene to the Hillary Step on Everest began to circulate. At one point I decided to put my hard shell pants on, which proved to be a mistake as the effort it took and the body contortion required to put them on ended up reviving the feeling of nausea that I had quelled earlier. Then our turn came on the crevasse. When I received the signal I made my first attempt to make the initial high step onto the bottom of the other side of the crevasse. The foot hold disintegrated as I placed weight on it. For my second attempt, I wrapped my arm around the fixed line that had been placed, which ended with a newer foot hold disappearing. My glasses had now fogged and I could hardly distinguish details in the white in front of me. My hard shell pants had sagged down below my waste and I suddenly felt less than comfortable.

Another wave of nausea came over me. I began to worry about my condition. I was confident that I could drag myself up the slope to the top, but at what cost? My body seemed to be screaming no, and I considered the situation in more detail. There were clouds coming in, dozens of climbers and teams that would have to get both up and down this part of the route, my health seemed questionable, and my position was currently precarious. I had to make a decision. With a forced hand, I conceded and was escorted down from the crevasse by another guide. Without a doubt, I could have continued on in spite of these difficulties. To do so would have been selfish and not in the best interest of the safety of myself or the team. It would be easy to characterize my choice as a defeat, but I saw it as more of a necessity to maintain an acceptable level of safety. I learned that I had company with another climber who had made a similar decision.

This is what the large crevasse above 13,000ft looked like (Photo by Kel Rossiter)

I watched the rest of my rope team proceed safely across and up the obstacle as I was transferred in, out of, and between prusiks, lines and anchors in order to be brought back down to safety. I had brought only one locking carabiner, which turned out to be a regrettable decision on more than just this occasion. In only moments I had to shift my mindset from moving up to moving down. My addition to the rope team heading down did provide for a larger margin of error. With three of us on the rope, the degree of safety was undoubtedly higher than with only two climbers on the rope. While going down, I was given the lead for some time, but once the terrain became more varied and broken I was relieved from the lead and placed in the back as anchor. As we weaved down the Ingraham Glacier, I could finally see the dangers that were invisible during the dark hours of the early morning. I had been somewhat relaxed about moving down until I mentally acknowledged the threat that these posed to our small rope team.

The cloud deck was following us down and it wasn't long before the radio crackled. All of the teams had turned back only a few hundred feet above the difficult crevasse crossing due to poor visibility. Details were sparse, but we also learned that another climber had punched through the surface into a crevasse. Their high point was around 13,800ft. Our small team continued down until we got to one of the sketchier portions of the route that involved a running belay. As I brought up the rear I had to unclip the rope from the snow stake and stow the carabiner. I found myself somewhat dissatisfied with the fact that I had to use both hands to remove the rope from the carabiner, which required I let go of my only protection (my ice axe driven into the slope). If I had a short sling or runner I could have quickly girth hitched my belay loop and given myself that extra sense of protection by using the ice axe as an anchor.

For the most part, our descent was without incident and the rope team arrived back in Camp Muir after getting blasted by some moderate winds just prior to passing through Cathedral Gap and onto the Cowlitz Glacier. Knowing that the rest of the climbers would soon arrive at Camp Muir , I focused on re-hydrating and preparing my gear for the descent down to Paradise. We learned that they were in very reduced visibility and high winds. Their descent took hours longer than ours, even though they had only proceeded an extra few hundred vertical feet. Despite no one tagging the top, the mood seemed positive. Everyone was safe, and no one could say that their trip was without adventure. The descent down to Paradise was quick, only taking a bit over two hours.

The shuttle took us back to Ashford where there was a ceremonious presentation of certificates to everyone who had participated. Then it was over. All the planning, effort, and training I had focused on in the past months had coalesced into what happened over the past 30 or so hours. We would pass the remaining time in Ashford slowly as we waited for our ride back to Seattle for our red eye flight the next day.

Afterthoughts

Most important to me is what I would do differently based on what I learned from this climb. The easiest way to organize these changes is in bulleted form. I would...

• Purchase a buff for $20 (it just seems too versatile to not have)
• Bring my own tent to relax and sleep in (as crazy as that sounds)
• Use another insulating layer such as a light primaloft jacket in place of the soft shell
• Return to my now-standard food plan and cook in disposable bags to make trash/waste management easier
• Stick with the normal fatty/salty options that I have utilized in the past for snacks
• Schedule the flights with less buffer time
• Bring more things to occupy free time
• Utilize dry bags for any important items that couldn't get wet and ditch the garbage bag concept entirely
• Add a bit more to my rack such as a a few extra lockers and slings
• Use water bottle insulators to keep the liquids from turning to slush (which made it hard to stay hydrated)
• Consider bringing a mid-weight base layer pant

Most of my outdoor experiences have been in the company of only myself or few others. I was taken aback by the number of people moving up and down the mountain. Camp Muir was busier than a city bus stop. One of the primary reasons I go outdoors is to feel distant from everything normal and safe in everyday life. Increasing my distance from people, work, and the comforts of modern life leads to a simplification unlike any other I have found. Unfortunately, the brevity of the climb and the proximity to others detracted significantly from these feelings I have come to seek over the past years. This isn't to say that I was in any way disappointed with the experience, nor is it saying that I would not pursue anything similar again.

To me, climbing is about learning. Whether it's a single pitch sport route or a week long expedition to a craggy peak. From a distance, it may appear that physical strength forms the basis of a good climber. The truth, I believe, is that the game is more of a mental exercise than anything else. Planning, preparing, and progressing forward requires mental resolve above all. I didn't make it to the top, and neither did any of the other climbers that day. It would be rash to say it was a waste of time when considering what was achieved. Early on, after I made the decision to climb Rainier, I resolved that I would much rather have an unsuccessful climb that was adventurous and challenging than a stairway to the summit, and I am happy to have received just that.

Goodbye, Mt. Rainier!

If you enjoyed my account of climbing Mt. Rainier and have copious amounts of free time consider reading my entries about my hike of the 100 mile wilderness in Maine. Many of the pictures I used in this log were taken by Kel Rossiter of Adventure Spirit Guides. Guide Jeff "JJ" Justman also used a GoPro helmet cam to capture some of the climb, view it on his facebook page here.

Last summer I purchased a webcam from Best Buy and quickly found myself generally appalled at the quality. I wish I had known then, but the best bet nowadays for creating quick videos is likely a camcorder. Once I had come to realize this, I started keeping an eye out for cheap camcorders. I lost interest until recently, when I decided that I would need one to enter a contest that involves the submission of a two minute video. After a week of research I had gotten nowhere. Every camera I would find would have the same average weighted rating which fell somewhere between amazing and desperately inadequate. I gave up and just decided to choose a camera that had the features I needed and go from there. I'm not making the next Avatar here.

I eventually found a JVC Everio GZ-MS110 that was on sale for $130. It had the basic feature set that I wanted including a time lapse function and the ability to swap out SD cards. I purchased it at a local HHGregg (first item I ever purchased from this store -- I have no complaints). I'm not going to thoroughly review this camera, but I do want to go over a few tricks to get better video output from these cheap camcorders on Linux (though the same techniques should apply to other operating systems).

It's not much to look at, but it's as compact and light as they come

The most annoying aspect of nearly all camcorders that aren't HD ready is that they will, almost without doubt, not support recording progressive scan video. Deinterlacing becomes a must when dealing with video from these sources. The second peeve I have is that they can't seem to use logical storage formats and containers. JVC cameras create MOD and TOD files which are truly MPEG2 data with AAC audio, but a lot of lesser video players struggle with them. It appears that the way their header data is stored all but hides the aspect ratio the file was recorded with (with the GZ-MS110 you can choose 4:3 or 16:9) which causes many players to display the file incorrectly. Luckily, most media programs on Linux have some relation to ffmpeg or gstreamer, both of which seem to read these files properly. I had no issue transferring these files. I tested the mini-USB port on the camera and Ubuntu 10.04 recognized the device as a MSC controller giving me access to the files. I also was able to simply remove the SD card and read the data that way. I enjoy devices that work simply like this, which is why I also enjoy my Creative Zen X-FI 2.

Rather than go through the motions of explaining how I process the video from this camcorder with long ffmpeg commands, I thought I'd show how to do it using AviDemux. This is useful if your goal is to put these videos onto sharing sites like Facebook, YouTube, or Vimeo as well as if you are looking to do some basic editing with the output. If you're on Ubuntu, you can get it through the software, if you're on a Debian-based distribution you can likely get it using the following in a terminal:

$ sudo apt-get install avidemux

Quick overview of some settings to get clear output from AviDemux

AviDemux will read the MOD files and build an index of the frames (click yes when it asks). For my purposes, I plan to edit the clips on my computer and have chosen to use a lossless video codec (Huffyuv). Unfortunately, AviDemux does not currently have FLAC support which would be my choice for audio. I lowered myself to use a very high quality MP3 since it's very compatible with most programs. You could choose to use a PCM waveform as well. If you need the file size to be smaller, I suggest using an XviD or H.264 profile. The important part happens with the filters. The order of these are important. The first filter I use is the yadif filter (Yet Another DeInterlace Filter), followed by a sharpen, and then a resize down to 640x360. This resize is not necessary and many would say that I am degrading the quality by doing so. I find that the bilinear re-sampling actually removes a lot of noise from the output.

Uncompressed versions for comparison: original afterwards.

I am satisfied with the results. For only twice as much as I paid for a webcam I have made leaps and bounds in terms of quality. Not to mention it's a lot easier to interface with. Other comments on the camera: The sound recording on it is better than I anticipated and it handled loud music in a car easily -- this camera may be a good investment for concert filmers. The battery on it lasts only an hour, despite claims of lasting up to two. I have lowered the LCD brightness as much as possible with little gain in recording time. Some quick research showed that an extra battery was -- at the cheapest -- $60! That's nearly half the price of the camera. In conclusion, the JVC Everio GZ-MS110 is definitely a budget standard definition camera, but I can't see why most users wouldn't find it a good deal for the prices it is available for. If you don't need zoom and time lapse capabilities, the Flip Ultra HD is by far one of the best camcorders for online socialites interested in posting videos onto YouTube and Facebook.

This post marks the first post in a new category that I am calling gear reviews. While I'm calling it "reviews" I expect most of it will merely be considerations, impressions, and comments. Two months ago I purchased a Suunto Core Extreme Edition Silver ABC (an altimeter, barometer and compass). When I was hiking in Maine this last summer I found myself pouring over the trail maps constantly attempting to assess my current location more accurately. I realized that without knowing an approximate elevation that my guess was that and only that -- a guess.

There are two methods of electronic measurement that can provide elevation estimates. The least expensive and more popular method is that of the ABC which uses barometric pressure to approximate altitude. One positive aspect of this method is that you also end up carrying around a miniature weather station that can provide ample warning of incoming low pressure systems which can potentially care precipitation. Conversely, these same changes in pressure that occur due to large air masses flowing over the landscape can cause the altimeter and barometer readings to be largely inaccurate. It is because of this that an accurate altitude reading depends greatly on the frequency and consistency of calibration. Many GPS-based watches provide an altitude reading, but these are often intentionally scrambled for safety precautions and are often less accurate than ABC devices. The most advanced devices use both a pressure sensor and GPS to constantly calibrate and approximate elevation.

Most wrist-based altimeters have an enormous face

Suunto has made an plethora of different varieties of it's Core model. The first ABC I purchased was a HighGear Alterra from Campmor. Not only was it sent to me with a dead battery, but the altimeter and barometer did not even work! I was sent a dead watch. From the appearance of the box, it looked like it had been relaxing in a warehouse for years. I decided that I had to take my game to the next level. If I have learned one thing from spending oodles of money on outdoor gear it's that you must make price not an objective. It's better to search for gear that you like, or that is of high quality, then worry about finding a good deal on it.

With that in mind, I began to scope out deals on Suunto Core watches. I eventually made a purchase of an all-black military design with a negative display. The watch performed and worked wonderfully, but it was terribly hard to read in most lighting scenarios. It was for this reason that I exchanged it for the Suunto Core Extreme Edition Silver. This watch has a much more modest face that is a bit less thick than the normal core edition and lacks most of the distractions of the normal Core face. Setting up the Core is so easy. I didn't even have to read the manual. It has a limited set of functions, but they are all intuitive and easy to use. Some of the reset actions are not as intuitive as the normal user interface browsing, but all in all it's a terrific interface. Contrast this with the interface on the Alterra which had far too many features to ever be easy to use. Extra ski chronometers and excessive alarms further complicates setup on the Alterra.

The major pros of the Suunto Core include a disturbingly accurate altimeter and barometer, an easy to read face, the storm alarm, and the directional compass. I am never more than 1hPa off from the measurements made at the nearby airport and the altimeter accuracy of 1m typically leads to results within 5-10ft of the true elevation. The storm alarm has successfully beeped at me before more than three quarters of most significant snowfalls here in Kentucky. Using the directional compass assisted me in some field work I had to do for a project that I recently finished focusing on landslides in the region. Cons are few and far between. The primary downside to this timepiece is it's enormous face. This is common amongst ABC watches, though. I would like to see a dual-alarm setup that would allow for both a morning and afternoon alarm, as well.

Bottom line: I can't wait until I get to try this thing out on a few real trips. I've been adding significantly to my winter gear collection and hope to do a few winter trips this year along with a few other "big" trips which are still coming together. Suunto did a wonderful job on this upgrade to their already successful Core line.

Over ten years ago the Internet was more of a playground for me than anything else. I would spend time downloading small games (often less than a megabyte), cool pictures, and, of course, music. Since audio compression technology had quite a way to come before we could fool users into thinking that a 3MB audio file was just as acceptable as a lossless waveform and the majority of users were entering the information superhighway using a dial up connection, MIDI files were prolific. I collected them, often searching for one where someone had merged just the right kinds of fake instrument sounds to give it somewhat of a semblance to the original song. People were making MIDI files of everything from the Pokemon theme song to "Tearin' Up My Heart" by *Nsync. It was exciting at the time.

MIDI files had one huge downside: they depended almost entirely on your sound card and your soundfont. Getting a new sound card or a new computer would make your MIDI files sound different. It surely made for an interesting time when your favorite MIDI file suddenly sounded less awesome. MIDI has been around a long time and it's an amazing protocol but it was simply never meant to be used to share songs. The real purpose of MIDI is to provide a standard transport protocol for musical data. This most often applies to digital keyboards, though other instruments often utilize MIDI as well.

Most mid to high-end digital keyboards have a MIDI connection (either a classic connection or the now more favored USB pass through). The major downside to most affordable digital pianos is that they just do not sound like a piano. In order to provide a more affordable alternative to purchasing that Steinway D, massive sample-based virtual instruments began to appear on the market. When I say massive, I mean huge. Absolutely huge. 10+ DVD huge. Often, publishers of the software recommend a dedicated hard disk. The amount of disk reads that are initiated by such software can be taxing as well. There are sample libraries available for a range of instruments. Two popular sample libraries that are at least moderately affordable are Alicia's Keys and Synthogy Ivory.

I had become somewhat disappointed with the provided pianos on my Casio Privia PX575-R and began to consider a purchase of a sample library. Unfortunately, all of the available sample libraries are Mac and Windows based and offer no Linux friendly alternative. Research led me to an interesting piece of software known as Pianoteq. After a remarkably quick download of their trial software I just looked at the executable. My desktop was populated with a 10MB executable. What I had neglected to read before I hastily downloaded the trial was that Pianoteq was different. Rather than providing a massive sample library, Pianoteq aims to model a piano. There are no pre-existing sounds in the program at all. I was impressed by the sounds of the grand pianos and the processor usage remained quite low. I had little issues with latency since I already sport a JACK-ready setup with realtime scheduling support.

10MB piano?

After being annoyed with the trial and its disabling of certain keys (along with a 20 minute time limit) I thought it was a sign that enough was enough so I forked over the cash for the program. It's about $100USD which I consider to be highly affordable for such software. I think the biggest implication of such software is that it allows those searching for a keyboard to buy simply on the feel of the keyboard (action, keys, etc) rather than the sound of the keyboard. I wish I had known of this possibility since it may have altered my purchase slightly to a Privia PX-3 or PX-130.

I came across a song called "River Flows In Yoi" by Yiruma on Youtube while perusing some piano playlists at work and found myself attracted to it. It's not the simplest song to play, but it does have a remarkably simple structure resembling that of many pop-rock songs. After I had already spent quite a bit of time teaching myself, I came to realize that this song must be more popular than 99% of the music I listen to. There literally must be an upload an hour of someone playing this song on Youtube. Somehow the song was associated with the Twilight series and I imagine that a lot of this interest surrounds this accidental association with the vampiric teen hit. Despite all of this, I still like it. It was a good test for Pianoteq, at the least.

Without doubt, it is more enjoyable to play a piano that sounds more realistic. It's more expressive and responds to the player just as much as the player responds to the piano. While there may be a few people who would be fooled by a modeled piano, I think that a real piano still cannot be replaced. Sample-based software surely has a more realistic sound, but the modeled pianos have many more interaction paths and each note can affect each other note in a way that sample-based libraries can never replicate. We've come a long way since 8-bit music on Super Mario Brothers and MIDI files of the Backstreet Boys latest hit, but I don't expect to fool many listeners with a modeled piano yet.

In the home I grew up in music was everywhere. Both my mother and my father are musically gifted and both pursued their love of music when they attended college. Four years was, evidently, not enough for my father and he completed a graduate degree in music composition. As a young child I spent many hours sitting on a piano bench making compositions of my own. For some reason, my two sisters and I had a different relationship with music than our parents. All of us participated in band for a minimum of three years and learned to play instruments and read music. For all three of us, this three year internment was the extent of our formal musical journeys. My younger sister dabbled in piano lessons but for a decidedly brief period of time. Despite our choices to veer away from a life invested in the study of music, I believe that all of us still have a special relationship with it in some form or another.

Ever since I can remember, I would occasionally spend time sitting in front of our old, out of tune, and poorly maintained piano. As a young child I would even throw together sequences of notes that I would then repeat and modify to form somewhat of a pseudo-composition. For whatever reason, I always refused formal lessons. I simply didn't want the act of playing the piano to become a chore or a burden. Once I grew older, I shifted my focus toward movie scores and themes. To this day, I could probably play the chorus for a handful of movie themes off the top of my head. Playing the piano was simply a way to pass some time and provide myself with a sense of accomplishment.

Music has always captivated and affected me in a way that I feel few others experience. I find it nearly impossible to listen to an album from start to finish. I am far more likely to become enamored with the dynamics and sounds of a single song, or, in extreme circumstances, a section of a song. Take, for example, Dream Theater's “Home” from Metropolis Pt. 2: Scenes From A Memory. Few songs in my library can approach this song when comparing total plays. This obsession I develop leads to days, perhaps even weeks, where I find myself listening to the same few songs repeatedly until I know them intimately. Whether it be Jimmy Eat World's “For Me This Is Heaven”, Death Cab For Cutie's “Brother's on a Hotel Bed”, or one of many versions of “The Ponytail Parades” by Emery, there were times when I probably had the song on repeat for the better part of a week. It surely drives anyone around me insane, but for me each time the song plays I gain a better understanding of it. It is rare for this to lead to song exhaustion and it is even more unlikely for me to ever “retire” a song.

More than once I have entertained the idea of providing myself with the means to become a bit closer to music. While hiking through the wilderness of Maine I decided to give in and satisfy my curiosity. Those who know me well know that I am, at times, obsessively frugal. To make a long story short, it's hard to part me from my hard earned paycheck. Fortunately, I had already made a decision and I began to research digital pianos and electric keyboards. It quickly became obvious that I would settle for no less than weighted hammer-action keys. My hands had spent far too much time on a real piano and the disgusting feel of spring-loaded keys were more than enough to convince me that it was worth it to spend the extra money for great feeling, responsive keys. Through online research I had found that the (now discontinued) Casio Privia PX-575R's were available from multiple outlets (Guitar Center, Sam Ash) as factory refurbished models that were more than affordable. After testing one in person I was quite sure that it was the best keyboard for the money I was willing to spend. Last week I finally bit the bullet and found myself shoving a coffin-sized box into my rather small 1992 Toyota Celica. As I drove home with the gargantuan box blocking my passenger side rear view mirror I had a handful of moments where I wondered what exactly I was doing.

Isn't it pretty?

So, why the piano? I could have bought a guitar, or a set of drums, or a variety of other instruments. For me, it was a simple decision. I always felt more comfortable on the piano. I played trombone for a time and it just didn't do much for me. The piano is adaptable and can take on a variety of different sounds that convey a spectrum of emotions. Many of my favorite songs feature a piano to some degree. “Existentialism on Prom Night” by Straylight Run, “Agaetis Byrjun” by Sigur Ros, or “Forever” by Amber Pacific are all examples of this. The digital piano also gives me the options to generate over 700 unique sounds supported by over 100 rhythms.

Once I had it all setup I had to engage in a small battle with ALSA (Advanced Linux Sound Architecture) which resulted in proper piping of audio output through my computer thanks to the amazing longevity of my Audigy 2 ZS. I received the sound card as a graduation gift from high school. For computer hardware, it's age is akin to that of a gray-haired retiree living in Florida. Despite being old, the Audigy 2 ZS has been nothing short of astounding since the first day I used it. It continues to satisfy my needs and allows me to do a much cleaner recording than with a microphone or a standard line in that is found on most sound cards. Audacity works quite well for audio capture and simple tracking and I have found that using the command line based alsamixer utility is more than adequate for my needs. Having the audio piped through a workstation is very beneficial. I can record, track, play songs in the background, and have access to a much cleaner capture quality.

I love my Audigy 2 ZS!

I decided to work on learning a song and I chose the main theme from the new series “The Pacific”. I wasn't impressed with the series itself, but the main theme captivated me. The series has a beautiful score. I know my version doesn't do it justice, so be sure to check out the version by CalikoCat.

So far, I have enjoyed my investment quite a bit and I look forward to learning to play it better.