Biking the Wenatchee-Chelan loop

Our cabin at Lincoln Rock State Park


My bike hasn’t been getting a lot of love since I moved to Seattle. Bike commuting in the summer, mostly, but not many long rides. No touring.

To charge things up this year, I decided we should do the STP in the summer. And we will. But registering for that led to registering for the training ride, the Flying Wheels. That then led to registering the Tour de Blast. And Knox went so far as to sign up for the RAMROD (yikes!). As a result, we have a biking summer sketched out. We’ve never been into organized rides, so we’ll see how fun they are.

To prepare for these events, we’ve started going on longer bike rides after work–typically 30 to 40 miles, which is not really long in the world of touring. What we’re really jonesing to do is go on another bona fide bike tour, where you cover real distance over the span of days. That is unlikely to happen this summer, as I’m saving my vacation time for other trips. What we can do, however, is weekend mini-tours. And that’s exactly what we did this weekend, driving up to Wenatchee and doing a 76-mile bike tour to Lake Chelan and back.

Oh, it was glorious! Like water to parched lips, this ride reminded me of the sheer joy of feeling the sun on my skin, the wind in my hair, and the pedals underfoot as the world slowly changed around me! So good for the soul!

On the technical side, I was intrigued to confirm what I’ve been noticing this season: my riding style has definitely changed from what it was when I started biking five years ago. It used to be that I would try to ride fast all the time, sprinting up segments of hills and then stopping to pant before continuing up. Now, I seem to have a better pace, where I can gauge the right steady effort to get me to the top, and beyond, without needing to stop to catch my breath.


View Wenatchee/Lake Chelan Loop in a larger map

Why People Believe Weird Things

Humanist. Agnostic. Atheist. I always stumble a bit when asked about how I view the world, generally preferring to appear matter-of-fact than antagonistic. Perhaps the best moniker to capture my desired view of the world is “skeptic.”

What makes a skeptic? An outlook on the world based on the scientific method: the accumulation of empirical evidence and the continuous testing, retesting, rejection, and modification of hypotheses in light of that evidence. Scientists are human, too, and may be led astray by their own biases and quirks, but science is a long-term progressive process aimed at pruning away these false starts and tangents and leaving a coherent, predictive interpretation on matters of fact.

More skepticism would make our society better, I believe. As readers of this blog know, one of my major irritations is the sway that pseudoscience continues to hold. I am a staunch believer in freedom of conscience, so I don’t much care, for example, if people choose to be theists. What I mind is the use of superstition as a substitute for facts and rationality in areas where it matters, like public policy. You want to believe God created the universe in seven days? Fine by me. You want to pass that off as science in the schools? Unacceptable.

It was with delight, then, that I just finished reading Michael Shermer’s Why People Believe Weird Things: Pseudoscience, Superstition, and Other Confusions of Our Time. Shermer is the director of the Skeptics Society, a group dedicated precisely to debunking anti- and pseudo-scientific thinking, particularly in the public sphere (see this TED talk, for example). His book is a good analysis of the distinctions between science and pseudoscience and brief overview of some of the major battle lines in this front of the culture wars: the paranormal, near-death experiences, alien encounters, witch crazes, cults, creationism, and Holocaust denial.

In Chapter 3, Shermer talks about “how thinking goes wrong” for both scientists and lay folk alike, and how legitimate science attempts to self-correct in the face of these errors. Here’s his list, with my own annotations:

  1. Theory influences observations
  2. The observer changes the observed
  3. Equipment constructs results
  4. Anecdotes do not make a science. And yet so many people cite them as the bais for their beliefs.
  5. Scientific language does not make a science. This is a major pet peeve of mine, people invoking the uncertainty principle and wave-particle duality to justify all sorts of mumbo-jumbo.
  6. Bold statements do not make claims true
  7. Heresy does not equal correctness
  8. Burden of proof [is on the outsider seeking to overturn the accepted and proven scientific paradigm]
  9. Rumors do not equal reality
  10. Unexplained is no inexplicable. This is what really gets me about so-called Intelligent Design: I can’t think of how this complex structure could possibly have evolved, therefore it couldn’t have evolved, therefore there’s a designer.
  11. Failures are rationalized. Failures advance science, but tend to be ignored in pseudoscience.
  12. After the fact reasoning. *Post hoc, ergo propter hoc”
  13. Coincidence. “Synchronicity” my ass. It’s simple probability.
  14. Representativeness. The human tendency to remember hits and ignore misses keeps psychic hotlines in business.
  15. Emotive words and false analogies
  16. Ad ignorantiam. “If you can’t disprove it, it is proven”— the complete opposite of science. Applies to God , psychics, etc.
  17. Ad hominem and tu quoque
  18. Hasty generalization
  19. Overreliance on authorities
  20. Either-or. “If your theory is wrong, then mine must be right.” Is it supported by facts? What about alternatives?
  21. Circular reasoning
  22. Reductio as absurdum and slippery slope
  23. Effort inadequacies and the need for certainty, control, and simplicity. Critical thinking requires training and work.
  24. Problem-solving inadequacies. We tend to seek supporting rather than contrary evidence for our views.
  25. Ideological immunity, or the Planck problem. As the old school dies out, new practitioners are better able to evaluate and embrace what were once revolutionary ideas.

[Shermer also has a chapter at the end on "Why smart people believe weird things," where he cites intellectual attribution bias ("my choices are rational, but your choices are swayed by irrational beliefs") and confirmation bias ("I block out contrary evidence.")]

I highly recommend this book as a skeptic’s manifesto and a reminder that we are not alone in fighting and bemoaning the ignorance around us. I will leave you with an inspirational quote from chapter 15 attributed to Alfred Kinsey (of sex research fame). This is a quote that I found a bit tangential to the points in the book, but which I like for the (perhaps unjustified) hope that with more skepticism perhaps we can make society more supportive of human dignity and differences:

Prescriptions are merely public confessions of prescriptionists. What is right for one individual may be wrong for the next; and what is sin and abomination to one may be a worthwhile part of the next individual’s life. The range of individual variation, in any particular case, is usually much greater than what is generally understood…. And yet social forms and moral codes are prescribed as though all individuals were identical; and we pass judgements, make awards, and heap penalties without regard to the diverse difficulties involved when such different people face uniform demands.

Raising success

Part of the American narrative is the story of the self-made person. Work hard, we believe, and success will follow. Some chosen few are natural geniuses and they will rise to the top effortlessly in our level, meritocratic playing field.

We know the truth is not that simple. Accidents of birth and circumstance play a large role in how a life unfolds. It is these accidental circumstances that Malcom Gladwell explores in his book Outliers: The Story of Success. His thesis is that our family, cultural, and social environments provide ever-shifting opportunities for success in a given field. These, of course, are post hoc patterns that he discerns, but his case is compelling:

  • most of the best Canadian hockey players are born in early months of the year, because they are the oldest children in the yearly selection class with a Jan. 1 cutoff;

  • many Silicon Valley titans were born in the mid-1950s, young enough to be part of the computer revolution but not old enough to miss it;

  • the perfect birth date for becoming a successful New York Jewish lawyer is 1930, because one would have belonged to a demographic trough that meant smaller class sizes, one would have had enough time excluded from the prestigious law firms to hone legal skills and grow a professional reputation in a sub-field that would become important in the 1970s, and one would have been able to observe, growing up, one’s immigrant family do meaningful work where assertiveness and extra effort were rewarded

…and so on. Natural talent and hard work matter, of course, but what is also needed are the right sets of opportunities to appear and the initiative or luck to be able to seize them.

The book would make an interesting a child-rearing manual of sorts. Not that it is particularly prescriptive, but Gladwell does identify some common traits of success: putting in enough time to become an expert in something (10,000 hours seems to be the pattern across various fields); cultivating social as well as analytic intelligence; exemplifying for one’s children meaningful work, where the reward increases in relation to the effort put forth; noting how much of the education discrepancy among social classes is due to the availability of learning opportunities in the vacation months.

I recommend this easy but thought-provoking read.

Pops

Pops, the giant rabbit

There is a new addition to the Gardnovsky Gardens, and its name is Pops. Knox came back from a mysterious errand in Tacoma on Saturday with a rabbit. A giant, obese rabbit. We later found out (thanks to What Breed is my Bunny?, of course) that it is a fawn-colored Flemish giant.

Apparently, his biography looks something like this: he got his name because the kid he belonged to thought he was the color of Corn Pops. He shared his cage with a cat. The kid lost interest, the cat was given away, the rabbit was lonely. He’s been living outside, unfazed by his barking canine neighbors. The previous owner, a veterinary assistant, decided he was neglected. One Craigslist posting later, Pops came to join Galli at the Gardnovsky Resort and Spa.

Pops is awfully cute, but certainly needs to go in a diet: his jowls are all too conspicuous when he relaxes, all splayed out. We keep him in a rabbit hutch outside, which hutch will be graced with an HGTV-style addition before our own house will. We’ve been bringing him indoors every so often to look at him and pet him, and he seems to enjoy that just fine. He and the cat have been sniffing each other out (and I mean that literally; Galli is intrigued by Pop’s butt). Galli remains suspicious, staring at Pops in her focused huntress mode. Pops is laid back, knowing he has the advantage of size.

So far, our major complaint is that when he comes inside, Pops likes to poop (perfectly formed soft pellets) and pee (brownish syrup). We need to get him housebroken and using a litter box. He’s got a scat kink going, too: he’ll wallow in, sniff, and eat his own pellets, and he seems to quite enjoy stretching out in his own urine. Sigh. As much as I enjoy him, I’ve instituted a new house rule: you bring it home, you take care of its excrement.

Man and Bunny