by Steve Jackowski

​I like to solve problems.  I also appreciate the instant gratification I get in solving Sudoku, KenKen, Minesweeper, or even FreeCell games as fast as I can.  The faster the better.

During my career, my teams and I were often faced with problems that couldn't be solved in minutes, hours, or even days.  We used systematic methods which required laying out multiple approaches to get to as many possible answers as possible.  Collaboration usually helped. Persistence helped.  But often we needed to walk away for a while and let our subconscious do the work; the answers arriving at odd times, like while taking a shower. 

I must admit that I worry about our problem solving abilities.  It seems like almost everything we do today is about faster and faster.  If we can't get gratification in a matter of minutes, we move on to something else.  Our attention spans are getting shorter.  Computers and our intelligent portable devices make this easier and easier.  I wonder if these addictions will lead us away from the sustained efforts needed to solve real world problems.  

In thinking about this, I remembered the first sustained problem-solving effort I faced.  I was 16.   My high school Calculus teacher presented a challenge to the class.  The first person to solve it would receive bonus points which could lead to the ever-sought-after A+.  He had discovered the problem in that month's issue of Scientific American.  It sounded simple enough:

Create all the number from 1 to 100 using exactly four 4s.  

I dove right in, even before class was over and several numbers fell out quickly: 

1 = (4+4)/(4+4)
2 = (4*4)/(4+4)
3 = (4+4+4)/4
etc...

​But it didn't take long before I got stuck.  I decided to keep moving on, skipping those that I couldn't get quickly.   Once I realized I could use 4! (4*3*2*1 = 24), many more fell out.  But I got really stuck on several.  Days passed (I worked on this in my spare time) and one or two would fall out, then I'd be stuck again.  Skip the next two paragraphs of this post if you don't want any more hints.

Ultimately, I understood that to solve the harder ones I needed to create tools - combinations of 4s (e.g. 4/.4 = 10) that I could use in other expressions ( e.g. (4/.4)*sqrt(4)+4 = 24 - note that I used 'sqrt' here because I couldn't easily add the square root symbol in this post).  

The key was to think about other representations of 4, like factorial or square root, and then combine that with other representations to create numbers I could use to multiply, divide, add, or perform other operations with. It was a week or more before I had the tool building realization and then it took longer to build all the tools I needed.  When I got really stuck it was usually because I needed to create a new tool.  

Skip to here.

All told, it took me about 3 weeks.  I was pretty proud of the fact that I was the first in the class to come up with a solution and my Calculus teacher admitted that he hadn't solved it yet.  By the end of the term, as it turned out, no one else in all of his classes had solved it either.  I'm not saying it to brag, I'm just laying down the challenge.  Granted I've given you some hints that took me a while to get, but I'd be curious to see how long it takes you. 

Since I haven't looked at this problem in decades (and I didn't keep the solution anywhere), I'm going to start on it myself.

If you get really stuck, contact me via the website and I'll give you more hints or some additional tools.  Have fun!

When we finished our visit to San Juan de Gaztelugatxe​, we were a bit tired from the climb back up the 600 foot cliff.  But it was still early in the day and the late October weather was gorgeous with temperatures in the upper 70s.  We weren't sure whether we were up for another hike or just wanted to kick back on the edge of the water in one of the many seaside towns on the Spanish Basque Coast.

The coastline here is rugged.  It reminds me a bit of Big Sur with its imposing cliffs, precipitous drops to the sea,  rocks formations and small islands, and spectacular views.  The big difference is the rivers.  There's lots of water here and rivers rush from the Pyrenees to the ocean carving wide fertile valleys and creating coves and harbors with beautiful sandy beaches.  The beaches and harbors are protected by the huge cliffs to the east and west (remember this part of the coast of Spain faces north).  

Jean-Luc and Elaine pulled out a guidebook for hikes in the Basque region and one caught my eye - a hike to the Lighthouse at the End of the World.  As it turned out, Jean-Luc and Elaine had done the hike so they were somewhat familiar with the area.  We set off on a scenic 25-minute drive to Gorliz where the trail began.  As we neared Gorliz, Elaine remembered the initial climb out of Gorliz towards the lighthouse, and after the morning's climb, suggested we might want to  see if we could get closer to the lighthouse to make it an easier hike.  She suggested a service road a service road they'd crossed the previous time and thought that we might be able to drive part way up.  Unfortunately, the road was closed to non-service vehicles, so we made our way to a cafe overlooking the beach at Gorliz to discuss our options.   

The beach was impressive - long, and completely deserted, aside from a few naturistes on the east end below the cafe's terrace.  

The village of Gorliz has about 5,000 permanent residents.  It's effectively a suburb of Bilbao and is the last stop on Bilbao's underground metro line.  The bay and beach were formed by the Plentzia River on the west end.  There's a protected harbor entrance at the mouth of the river. The large building on the beach path (as seen in the picture at the top of this post), is not a Casino as you might imagine, it's the hospital.  In the 1920s, Gorliz was the first place on the Basque coast to set up a salt-water spa for health treatments.  Now these are found in many of the towns and villages dotting the coast.  Karen and Elaine frequently go to the Thalassotherapy Spas in Hendaye and Saint-Jean-de-Luz.

Re-energized after their coffees, Elaine, Jean-Luc, and Karen thought we might give the hike a try after all.  

The climb up the trail from the east end of the beach was more challenging than expected but afforded us impressive views of Gorlitz, its beach, and the Plentzia River.  With the rising temperatures and the late October sun, we were grateful for the shade as we ascended the forested trail.  As we rounded the corner above the edge of the bay, the views to the west were breathtaking.  We kept thinking the trail would flatten out but it kept climbing.  

When the trail started to descend, we thought we had reached the highest point.  But no.  We had to go down a couple hundred feet, then climb a few hundred feet up the next hill.  That one had no trees and no shade.  We seriously discussed turning back.  But the lighthouse called.

We passed fields of wild crocus, and made our way up to the next highest point where we finally saw the Lighthouse at the End of the World.   
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We followed the trail down to the access road which led to the lighthouse.  

The lighthouse itself wasn't particularly spectacular.  And while the views to the west were breathtaking, there was no way to see to the east - the part of the cliff that would have afforded that view  was overgrown with plants.  I must admit to being disappointed.  I also thought that it didn't live up to its 'end of the world' billing. 

There were also pictures and maps of the area marking additional hiking trails and describing the lighthouse's and the area's history.  

The trail starts again behind the lighthouse and climbs another hundred feet or so, passing bunkers and underground galleries complete with cannons built by Franco after the Spanish Civil war in anticipation of an invasion by the allies during WWII.  The trail then winds through scenic hills and valleys back to Gorliz.  

At this point, though, we were a bit tired.  Having climbed the cliffs of San Juan de Gaztelugatxe earlier and adding another thousand vertical feet here, we decided to take the shady service road back to Gorliz as the sun was setting.  

An hour and a half later we were home and got cleaned up for a romantic dinner at one of our local favorites, Tantina de la Playa in Bidart.  

If you decide to try the trail to the Lighthouse at the End of the World, set your expectations low for the lighthouse itself.  As for the rest of the hike, it's definitely worth it: incomparable views, some interesting history, and a somewhat challenging 6.4 km (4 mile), 300 meter (1000 foot) vertical loop.  And if it's summer or a warm fall day, don't forget to enjoy the beach and crystal clear waters of the Bay of Plentzia in Gorliz.

We'd had a couple of days of light rain in the Pays Basque region of France, but the forecast was for fair weather with temperatures rising into the upper 70s.  A perfect day for a bit of exploring on the Spanish Basque coast.  

We had originally planned to do the seven or eight mile hike near Itxaspe to see the spectacular Flysch (wildly twisted rock) formations in the cliffs along with caves, deserted beaches, and possibly some interesting surf spots.  Unfortunately, after mentioning this plan to some friends over lunch, we were informed that the cast and crew of Game of Thrones had taken over this stretch of coastline for the next week.  They had also recruited hundreds of extras for the shoots - but you had to be big, tall, hairy and ugly.  Clearly I didn't fit the bill.

Our next choice was San Juan de Gaztelugatxe, a medieval Hermitage built in the ninth century by the Knights Templar on a tiny island just off the Basque coast.  It is connected to the mainland by what our friend Elaine calls 'the great wall of China'.   

We awoke to light rain, but trusting the weather forecast (a crazy thing to do in the Pays Basque), we picked up Elaine and her significant-other, Jean-Luc, and headed into Spain.  Half an hour into our drive, the skies cleared.  It was going to be a fine day.

To get to San Juan de Gaztelugatxe, we took the A-8 towards Bilbao - about 90 minutes away, then headed north to the coast passing through the beach resort town of Bakio.  We drove past the entrance to the parking area, thinking there might be another trail down from further up the road, and quickly discovered that the road was closed because the cliffs had fallen in.  We had originally thought that after this hike, we might continue up the road to Bermeo, one of the largest Basque ports, but that wasn't going to be possible.  Also, any alternative trails were long gone with the slides.  

We parked in the mostly deserted parking lot and made our way to the trail noticing that in spite of the fine weather in late October, the nearby restaurants were closed.  Fortunately, we'd brought a picnic lunch which we planned to eat once we reached the Hermitage.  

The sign on the trail indicated it was only about 1.5km (about half a mile) to the Hermitage.  I found this hard to believe because we were at least 600 vertical feet above the ocean, and we had to then climb an additional 300 feet up to the Hermitage.  

We started down and discovered that the trail was wide but quite steep.  ​No one was looking forward to the climb back up.

Nearing the bottom, we crossed a service road and shortly thereafter came to the wall/bridge that leads to the island.  The coastline to the east and to the west (remember, the Spanish coastline here faces north) is spectacular with small islands, imposing cliffs and numerous 'natural bridges'.  The 'wall' is even more impressive. Between the mainland and the island, at high tide, water passes through large arches in the bridge. Surprisingly, there are steps down the side that lead to these arches if you want a more impressive view.  Fortunately for us, the tide was high and there were a few workers cleaning the rough stones on the steps down.  With the heavy surf crashing below, we weren't tempted.  

Instead, we began the climb up the 237 steps to the Hermitage.  

It's a challenging climb up the steps and ramps, but there are handrails and numerous flat places to stop and take pictures (or to catch your breath).  

Arriving at the top, you round the main building and you see the huge wooden doors to the Hermitage, along with a rope that leads up to the bell tower.  

Legend has it that once you've made the trek, you should ring the bell three times and make a wish.  

Although there aren't many people who live nearby on the mainland across from the island, I have to believe that the neighbors get pretty tired of the ringing bell, especially during the summer tourist season.

We toured the top of the island looking for a good place to picnic and finally settled on a sun-sheltered structure on the side of the church.  Unfortunately, the church doors were locked, so we were forced to peek through the crack in the doors to see the interior.  
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Gaztelugatxe comes from two Basque words - gaztelu which means castle or fortress, and gatxe which means tremendously difficult.  

Historians aren't clear exactly when the Hermitage was built. However, there are nearby graves dating from the 9th century and historical records showing its existence in the 10th century.  It was apparently built by the Knights Templar and became a monastery during first part of the 11th century.

Interestingly, this small island and its Hermitage were the site of several strategic battles.  Its access was challenging so the site was easily defensible and over the course of its history, several notable figures made successful 'last' stands here.

Seeing its strategic importance, Sir Francis Drake successfully attacked and conquered the site in 1593.  Since then, the site has changed hands numerous times.  

The history is interesting. The short though challenging walk down the cliffs, up to the Hermitage, then down from the Hermitage and back up the cliffs can be exhausting.  Still, the views are worth the effort.  If you're in the area, it's definitely worth the short detour from Bilbao to see San Juan de Gaztelugatxe.  

​By the way, apparently the cast and crew of Game of Thrones will also be using San Juan de Gaztelugatxe in episodes this next season.  Watch for it!

It was a spectacular day on the north coast.  A friend I hadn't seen in years came up to surf with me and there were only four of us out in perfect shoulder-high waves with a few plus sets.  An hour into the session, I raced down the line hoping for a barrel in the section ahead, but at the last second, the water under the section drained with the dropping tide and I tried to turn down and out. 

Unfortunately, the back rail of my board hung up and did an el-rollo with my foot while my knee went in the opposite direction.  I felt a major tearing.  I paddled back into the lineup and talked to the physical therapist who was surfing with us.  He suggested that from the symptoms, it was a MCL tear - one of the most common surfing injuries.  He also said that if the injury didn't involve other ligaments or the meniscus, it likely wouldn't need surgery.  

Ironically, a few minutes later, my friend hurt his back, so we hobbled up the cliff together, disappointed at the number of uncrowded perfect waves we were going to miss.  

I raced home, showered, iced, and elevated my leg, then waited patiently for the arrival of Karen's son and daughter-in-law, both Osteopaths and specialists in Neuromuscular Medicine. They were planning to spend part of the weekend with us.  Two rounds of disc golf were scheduled for the next day and I envisioned being able to play.   Little did I know.

By the fifth week, I was feeling pretty good.  The swelling was almost completely gone and although my knee would get stiff if I sat for a while, doing the passive knee extension and flexion after getting up seemed to work well.  I bought a brace with a strap, and decided to try to surf.  The strap is cool because you can wrap it around the weak parts of your knee to provide much more support.  It stretches so you can make it really tight and it velcros to itself.  

I paddled out into easy, mushy rights and lefts.  My first wave was a right (backside for me), and as I started my bottom turn, I felt my knee give and pull.  It hurt like hell but the pain subsided quickly,  I decided to try a left and had no pain at all until I did an aggressive cutback.  I stuck with lefts for the next hour and surfed cautiously.  Unfortunately, I discovered that when you duck a wave, the wave pulls at your legs, sometimes to the side, and when that happened it definitely hurt.  I was sore after the session but I was glad to have surfed.  Still, I knew I wasn't ready.  It wouldn't take much to re-injure my knee in the surf.  Anything unforeseen would do real damage.  

I worked hard with the exercises and the gym the following week and tried again.  This time the waves were small but quick and mostly lefts.  I had a great time until I tried a right.  Again, driving off the back leg hurt.  It wasn't unstable like it was the week before, but still.  

It's now been eight weeks.  This past week, I was able to make full backside bottom turns and aggressive cutbacks on my lefts.  I surfed four really fun days.  On the last day though, I punched through a large set and got tossed around by the last wave.  I really felt it in my knee.  It didn't tear, wasn't any worse later, but I know that I can't let up on the strengthening exercises.  I still have a ways to go for 'full recovery'.  In the meantime, I can hike, dance, and play disc golf (took 4th in a tournament yesterday with no pain).  

Mistakes I made.

Realistically, Karen's son was right.  It's going to be 12 weeks for full recovery, particularly for surfing.  I seriously underestimated how much inward force you put on your knee in a backside turn or frontside cutback.  I seriously underestimated the force of the ocean, which is a very stupid thing to do.  And at the beginning, I tried to do too much too soon.  I'd try to push walking and tried to do the harder strengthening exercises when I wasn't ready.  Each time I did, it set me back a couple of days with renewed swelling and loss of flexibility.  

Overall though, I'm almost there.  Still, perhaps you can avoid some of the mistakes I made.

Set your expectations - it's going to take longer than you think.
Don't do too much too soon.  Be very cautious as you restart any activity.
Spend the extra for the best brace possible.

And, I think the main reason for my successful recovery is the dedication to the daily (or more) stretching exercises, and consistent and progressive strengthening exercises.  

The good news is that if it's an MCL tear with no other damage, you can rehab it yourself. But above all, you need Patience, Patience, Patience!

Update January 2018.

It's been a year and a half since I first injured my MCL as described above.  The rehab program worked, and I was back to full activity with maximal stress (surfing, extreme skiing, etc.) within 4 months (with a lot of hard work in rehabbing it).  Everything seemed fine and then, six weeks ago, while Salsa dancing on a rough surface, my foot caught in a fast turn and I felt my MCL pull.  It was too painful to continue dancing so I stopped.  By time I got home, my knee was hugely swollen.  I started the RICE treatment, but underestimated the severity of the injury.  Yes, it was only a grade 1 injury - there was no looseness under the Valgus test, but almost any activity caused huge swelling.  I consulted my muscular medicine doc and he informed me that re-injuries are often worse from the point of view of healing time.  Unfortunately, he was right. 

I hate being sidelined from the surf during one of the best seasons we've had in years.  And, not being able to run, dance, ski, etc. is depressing at this time of year.  

So here I am, six weeks later.  The pain is gone.  Most of the range of motion has returned (with lots of stretching), and I'm working on strengthening.  The plyometric exercises are still tough.  I did try surfing and easy front side is okay but I can tell I'm not quite ready for more aggressive turns.  I will be giving skiing a shot this week (now that there's a bit of snow in the Sierra).  In the meantime, I'm working hard on the strengthening and I now realize that to avoid re-re-injuring my knee, I need to keep up these exercises even after I'm back to 100%.  They're going to become part of my daily routine, much like core strengthening has.  Core strenghthening  resolved all of my back problems and I expect I can avoid further knee injuries if I keep up these knee exercises too.  

So, a final word of advice.  Once you're back to normal, don't stop your strengthening and range of motion exercises.  Do them regularly and hopefully, you can avoid a re-injury that will sideline you for several weeks.

I'm a skeptic.  When I studied philosophy, I called myself an empiricist.  Essentially, I don't believe in things unless they're proven.  This is especially true when it comes to medical fads:  vitamins, supplements, dietary changes, alternative medicine - you name it.  Unless I can see some double blind studies that show solid evidence of their efficacy, count me out.  

Of course sometimes my skepticism goes too far.  I like to think that I'm well-read and well-informed, but the reality is, you can't know everything, no matter how hard you try.  So what about the things you don't know about?  Me, I try to do the research, but it's usually only after I bump into these unknowns in some way or another.  

This was the case with Osteopathy.  I knew Karen's son (Victor) and daughter (Sabrina)  had enrolled in medical school and I knew that each of their schools specialized in Osteopathy.  From my rudimentary understanding at the time, it seemed like it had something to do with manual manipulation to supplement standard medical care - something like chiropractic.  But, since it didn't affect me, I didn't pay much attention.  

Fast forward a couple of years.  It's the day after Christmas and I'm surfing with a couple of friends on the north coast.  Perfect morning, excellent uncrowded waves, good company.  I climbed the cliff, drove home, and took a shower.  Within an hour, I couldn't raise my right arm. The funny thing was that I couldn't remember hurting myself in the surf.  Sure there were some tough duck dives and a few rail grabs, but usually I know when I've pulled something.  Not this time.  

It was officially a holiday and I knew my sports-med doc wouldn't be available so I went with the standard RICE treatment (Rest, Ice, Compression, and Elevation).  I also loaded up on Ibuprofen. The next day it was worse, not better.  I called the Doc's office and found out they were closed until after the first of the year.  I called back-up sports-med docs and all were out for the rest of the year as well.  All I could do was continue my RICE treatment.  

At one point, I tried some stretching, but no luck.  I had to eat left-handed, drive with one hand - do everything left handed - I couldn't raise my arm more than an inch or two and then, only with extreme pain.  

Of course I went to the internet and quickly determined that the main area of pain was the coracoid process with radiating pain into the scapula and bicep, but I was unable to find anything that seemed to relate to my specific problem.

The following weekend, Karen and I were on a call with Karen's daughter, Sabrina (who now runs Resilience Health in Eugene, Oregon) and soon-to-be son-in-law, Steve (another Osteopath focusing on Family Medicine).  I described my problem and Sabrina proposed the following: "Lie on your back. Have my Mom put the index finger of her right hand on your coracoid process and simultaneously lift your right arm into a fainting woman's position - palm outward on your forehead.  Have her re-position the arm until you have minimal pain in the coracoid process. Have her hold that position for ninety seconds.  Then have her return your arm to your side and rest for five or ten minutes."  

We did as she asked.  Ten minutes later, I sat up and raised my arm to shoulder level.   After an hour, I could raise my arm over my head with zero pain.  Later that afternoon, Karen and I were Salsa dancing at Salsa by the Sea and I had no recurring problems.

In between we called her back and she explained how this worked.  I'm not an Osteopath, so I'll paraphrase.  Basically, sometimes nerves send bad signals to the brain and the brain reinforces a problem by trying to fix it.  Swelling and pain may increase and your body gets into a feedback loop.  The technique she used is called Counterstrain.  The pressure on the specific point and re-positioning sends a reset signal to the brain allowing the body to move on.  It certainly worked for me.   After a week with a paralyzed arm, this instant recovery seemed truly miraculous.  

As I often do when I find something new, I went crazy doing research into Osteopathy.  I discovered that Osteopathic physicians are regular physicians - they can do family medicine, psychiatry, surgery - anything an 'Allopathic' doctor can do.   But, during medical school, in addition to the standard medical training, they study Osteopathy.  They also are trained to do more holistic evaluation and treatment of patients, focusing on causes, not just treating symptoms.  Osteopaths try to tap into the body's ability to heal itself before moving on to more aggressive treatments.  Officially Osteopathy is:

a system of complementary medicine involving the treatment of medical disorders through the manipulation and massage of the skeleton and musculature.

You can recognize Osteopaths by the 'DO' after their names as opposed to an 'MD' for an Allopathic doctor.  

A year and a half after that first incident, I was surfing the same spot. I pulled into a barrel which collapsed on me.  I held onto my board and felt my left shoulder tear.  By time I got my wetsuit off, my shoulder had swollen to the size of a grapefruit.  I raced home.

Fortunately, Karen's son, Victor, an Osteopath who focuses on Neuromuscular Medicine and now runs Seek Optimal Health with his wife Lee Ann (also a gifted Osteopath specializing in Neuromuscular Medicine), was visiting.  He stretched me out and started working on me.  He discovered (without an MRI), a small rotator cuff tear and a misalignment.  He treated me for about 45 minutes (most of it was painful), after which he explained that he had opened up passages (my word) to release the built up fluid (swelling), and had re-positioned my shoulder and upper back.  He suggested I follow up with RICE and Ibuprofen for 3 days after which time I could get back in the water.

As I got up, I discovered that at least 90% of the swelling was gone as was most of the pain.  I followed his advice and sure enough, 3 days later, I was back in the water.  

In the years since, Osteopathy has become a regular part of my treatment for acute injuries.  It has proven very effective, especially when combined with good physical therapy.  Most Osteopaths suggest regular treatment to keep the body aligned and fluids flowing.  I haven't gone that far yet, but I may well be on my way.  

If you're like me and injure yourself from time to time, I strongly suggest consulting an Osteopath. Of course, check to see if your family doctor or Sports Medicine expert is a DO.  I think you'll be pleased to find that miracles still exist in modern medicine.  

When Karen's beloved Subaru died three years ago, we knew we needed a new car.  Since my Audi could handle long distance and snow trips, we decided to go with an electric car.  It's primary use would be to take me up the coast to surf so a Tesla was out of the question: there was no way I was going to leave a Tesla on the side of Highway 1.  

​Aside from the Tesla,  the Ford Focus Electric was the best looking Electric Vehicle (EV) and had the best range.  Knowing technology would improve dramatically, we decided to do a three year lease.  For more on our initial impressions and experiences with driving an electric vehicle, see my post Our #EV (Electric Vehicle) Pros and Cons.  

​Three years have passed and we've loved our Focus.  Yes, there have been times where range anxiety took its toll, but after understanding its limitations, we realized that even with that limited range, we could do 80-90% of our driving in the Focus.   We were looking forward to a Focus with better range once our lease expired.

Unfortunately, as of early 2016 Ford had done little to improve the Focus's range.  So, knowing our lease was expiring in November, we were excited to hear that the Chevy Bolt, with a 238 mile range, would be available by the end of the year.  

I read the reviews and looked at videos of the first test drives by the various car publications and it looked like there were some great enhancements to the EV drive train.  Even better, it appeared that the official 238 mile range is a conservative estimate.  Several of the test drivers went much further, even with mostly highway driving (note that EVs get better range in the city than on higways).  

I looked at Chevy dealers in the immediate Bay Area and it appeared that Capitol Chevrolet had the best reviews and seemed to have the most inventory.  I contacted them in the spring, and Kevin Rodriguez told me that the dealers didn't know much about the Bolt but that he would keep me informed.  In August, he let me know that they would be able to take orders in November with some limited deliveries in December.  He said he could also now put me on a wait list for a Bolt.

In September, he reached out to inform me that they could take orders sometime in October - things were moving more quickly than expected.  Then, on Friday, I got the good news:  we could place an order on Monday.  And sure enough, he and his GM, Scott Jobe, made ordering the newest electric car a smooth, painless process.  

Since I haven't seen pricing for the Bolt and its options anywhere on the web, I thought I'd include them in this post.

The base model, the LT, at $37,495, comes with what you'd expect in a modern vehicle.  It includes a rear vision camera, a 10.2 inch touch console for car systems, entertainment, and EV information, keyless open and start, climate control, etc.  Its phone interface allows you to run music, apps, and Google Maps from your phone on the console.

The  Premier model, at $41,780, adds a rear mirror camera, surround vision where images from 4 cameras show the front, sides and rear of the car, roof rails, leather seats and steering wheel, front and rear heated seats and steering wheel, lane change alert, parking assist, rear traffic alert, and more.  

Options include a Fast charging port ($750), the infotainment system ($485) with premium quality audio, wireless device charging, 4G LTE hotspot, and additional USB ports, and the driver confidence package.  The driver confidence package ($495) includes front collision alert, optional automatic braking, lane assist, and Intellibeam headlights.  

GM has officially confirmed our order order and has promised regular updates as our car moves through the build process.  Scott told us to expect delivery in January but said he had hopes that we'd see our car before the end of the year - so far GM is beating expectation on their dates.  As soon as we get it, I'll post again to give you our first impressions of the new Bolt.   

Update - blogs about our new Chevy Bolt:

Chevy Bolt vs Ford Focus EV - First Impressions
We Love our new Chevy Bolt!
Our Bolt EV's First Longer Trip and Fast Charging Surprises
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Who knew that megaliths, menhirs, dolmen, and cromlechs lay just a few minutes away from our place in the Pays Basque?  I described some that we saw in Brittany in my post A Brief Trip up the West Coast of France - Quiberon.  Those were certainly impressive as were the associated museums that explained how they came to be.   But yesterday, we came upon local prehistoric structures during a hike in the Pyrenees just across the Spanish Border.  

Our friends Elaine and Jean-Luc invited us to visit Sare, a small Basque village at the foot of the Pyrenees where they claimed we could find the best gateau Basque in the region.  If the weather was nice, they proposed a short hike/walk from the village up towards the GR10 for some picturesque views, followed by a visit to the witches village, followed by a hike in an area they had recently discovered.  The GR10  is the Grande Randonnee trail that runs from the Atlantic to the Mediterranean along the Pyrenees - about 900 km (560 miles).  

We had agreed that if the weather was bad, we'd visit the famous caves of Sare and those in the witches' village.  As it turned out, the day was  overcast but comfortable, with the temperature about 70 degrees (20 C) - perfect weather for a hike.  Rain was forecast for late that night into the next day.  We decided to pass on the caves for this trip.

Karen and I encountered heavy Sunday morning traffic getting to Ciboure where we were to meet up with Elaine and Jean-Luc, so it was a bit later than expected when we left their place to begin our explorations.  After a 15 minute drive, we were in Sare.

Parking on a side street, we followed the signs towards the GR10.  Not far into our walk, we realized that there was a mountain bike competition going on as riders descended the trail at breakneck speeds towards the finish line on the fronton in the village.  We spoke to some of the trail monitors who told us that only about half the field had passed them so far.  So instead of continuing up the trail, we made our way back to the village where we realized we were hungry.  We visited all of the open restaurants but couldn't resist the tempting dishes we saw being served on the terrace of the Hotel Arraya.  The service and  food were excellent and as often happens with French meals, wine and dessert extended what was supposed to be a brief stop into a 2-hour lunch. 

After exploring the village, we stopped at a cafe across the small plaza from the Church of the Assumption for coffee (sparkling water for me), and our gateau Basque which was as good as promised.  We took the narrow road up the hill a short distance to the place where Elaine and Jean-Luc had hiked before.  They suggested we try a different trail, one on the right (west) side of the road.  There was a large sign in Spanish, Basque and French that described several trails.  Looking at the time, the thickening clouds, and recognizing that we had probably had too much food, we decided on a 5 km loop.  We didn't even think about what the red, 'pi'-like symbol was at the top, but were surprised to find that there would be megaliths along the trail.

​We started out on what looked like a well traveled path, but as we turned up the hill past an abandoned bergerie, the trail thinned and markings were hard to find.  We pushed on, assuming we had to get to the saddle on the top of the ridge.  Along the way, we passed groups of Potoks, the small horses that live in the Pyrenees.  

Once we reached the middle of the saddle, we couldn't easily determine whether to turn right or left.  I went left, Jean-Luc went right and about 100 yards from the saddle, Jean-Luc found a trail marker so we went that way.  If you go, when you reach the saddle, turn right (west).  Thereafter, the trail markers were easy to find. 

Climbing towards the west peak of the saddle, we had not only spectacular views of the French coastline and La Rhune, but of Spain to the south and the Pyrenees to the east.  We began our descent into a beautiful valley.  

Near the bottom of the hill, we saw our first marker for cromlechs.  Before I continue, let me give you a few definitions.  A menhir or megalith is an upright stone.  Most are flat.  Notable ones are several feet high, but sometimes they can be quite small.  A dolmen is a structure build of megaliths.  They usually have at least two upright stones with a flat capstone on top.  Most were used as burial tombs.  Some of the ones we saw in Brittany were huge.  It seemed like a feat of engineering to raise the capstones, but in fact, the process was quite simple.  After the side stones were placed, they filled the space between and around with dirt.  They  dragged the capstone onto the top of the mound, positioning it above the 'walls'.  Finally, they dug out the earthen mound leaving a stone structure - no pulley needed to raise a stone weighing many tons several feet to place it on top.  

Finally, a cromlech is a circle of menhirs or megaliths.  Stonehenge is probably the most well-know cromlech.  It appears no one knows exactly what cromlechs were used for.  At least that's the case outside the Basque region.  Theories abound.  But in the Basque region, archaeologists have concluded that these are burial site markers, often with a dolmen in the center.  Most of these structures were built between 4000 and 2000 B.C..

Continuing on our hike, we saw the marker for the cromlechs, but the cromlechs themselves weren't easy to spot.  Unlike Brittany where these monuments are well-maintained, those before us were buried in the ferns and tall grasses.  Plus, after 5,000 years of neglect in lightly traveled areas, most of the structures have fallen down or been eroded by the elements and severe storms of the Pyrenees.  Somehow though, finding these structures out in the middle of nowhere seemed more authentic.   ​

Leaving the cromlechs, we continued south along the trail through meadows, crossing streams, and entering the forest after the trail turned east to begin our loop back.  We passed a few bergeries and with the thickening clouds, began to wonder if we'd make it back before the rain started.  As we passed the 5 km point as indicated by Karen's Garmin, we still seemed to be quite far from our starting point.  But the trail was well-marked and there really weren't any alternatives unless you were a mountain goat, so we pressed on.

We crossed a boulder-filled creek next to a small waterfall and soon found ourselves on the edge of a the ridge that would lead us back to the car.   As we passed one final bergerie, the first few drops began to fall, but the car was in sight.    We got into the car, closed the doors, and the sky opened up.  Somehow even with the morning delays, the long lunch, and some trail misdirection, we'd timed it perfectly.  The hike was a bit over 6 km (not 5 km as promised by the sign), and it had taken us 2 hours including pictures and exploration of the cromlechs.  According to the sign, there are 7 km and 10 km monument hikes nearby.  We'll be going back and will allocate more time to explore.

I recently received a very complimentary email from a surfer/entrepreneur who had just read The Silicon Lathe.  He appreciated the parallels I tried to draw between extreme sports and trying to succeed in the Silicon Valley.  He spoke extensively about how the book accurately depicts the cutthroat competition of the Silicon Valley, especially for a young, idealistic entrepreneur.  But I think I most appreciated his comments about my treatment of surfing: "This is one of the truest descriptions of surfing I've ever read.  I made my wife read it and now she gets it."

Actually, I think he's wrong,  what I wrote isn't most intriguing example of surfing I've ever read (or written), and I'm pretty sure that without actually surfing, his wife doesn't really get it, but I thought I'd post one of the surfing excerpts here (there are several in the book, most more uplifting):

From The Silicon Lathe:

Surfing is not what most people think it is.  Films and popular culture have presented it as either Beach Blanket Bingo-like parties on the beach with everyone sharing waves, surf odysseys where you meet friendly people around the world as you search for the perfect wave, or hard core life-threatening big wave surfing, where one mistake means certain death.
In reality, surfing is much less romantic. 

First and foremost, it is the hardest sport I’ve ever tried.  You’re skiing intermediate and advanced slopes after a week or two of trying.  You can be soaring a hang glider within a couple of months of your first run down a sand dune.  You can be paddling intermediate Class 3 whitewater after several days on a river.  But with surfing, after two or three years of practicing every day, you might be an intermediate level surfer. 


Part of this is strength, conditioning, teaching your body to do something unnatural, learning the timing of the breaking waves and understanding the differences between waves on a beach break, reef breaks, and points.  You also need to know about tide changes, rip tides, wind forecasts, storm and swell prediction, and even water pollution levels which rise on the season’s first big swell or first major rain, both of which wash decaying matter from the hillsides and beaches into the ocean. I’ve already mentioned sharks.  But more than that, it’s cutthroat competition.  There are tens of thousands of surfers and they all expect to catch every wave that rolls in. 


Most surf spots have locals.  These are the surfers who surf there every day.  Take a wave that ‘belonged’ to a local, and you will be physically attacked by his friends when you get out of the water.  Your car will be vandalized; your girlfriend threatened.


Even when you’re a local, there are often so many people in the water that you’ll be lucky to get more than five waves in an hour.  With fifty-degree water and wind, even with your wetsuit, you get out of the water so cold that you can’t put your fingers together.  You might even have to ask a stranger to open the door to your car because you can’t grip and turn the key yourself.   And then there are the bad days. 

You paddle out, almost reaching the lineup – the place just outside the breaking waves where you wait to catch the oncoming swells, and a much larger than normal set of waves approaches.  You use all your strength to try to paddle over the wave, but it breaks on top of you.  You think this is okay because you and your board have punched through the wall of the wave and you are in the sunlight beyond.  Unfortunately, the force of the wave and the vacuum created as it tubes and barrels towards the beach grabs hold of your feet which are not all the way through.  The wave sucks you back into the hollowed hole from the collapsing tube and you are rolled over and over for what seems like minutes, even though it is only twenty or thirty seconds.  You finally get free of the wave’s clutches and float to the surface.  You quickly grab a breath as the next wave in the set breaks right in front of you.  You attempt to duck dive, to force you and your buoyant board deep under the oncoming wave, but when it’s big, you can’t get down deep enough.  The wave grabs you and your board and hurls you shoreward in a mass of churning whitewater.  You’re thrown upside down, sideways, in circles, sometimes bouncing off the bottom, stuffing your sinuses with water that will flow freely from your nose later in the day when you bend over to kiss someone.  When you finally escape this wave, there are more.  You may successfully duck dive, but with each successive wave, you lose more ground; you’re almost back to the beach. 


On a bad day, it’s all about luck and timing.  You try to paddle out again, and just as you reach the lineup, you repeat the experience.  After several times, you’re exhausted. Shoulders ache. Arms refuse to move.  As you try to get speed to paddle over the next set, you’re too weak and it just gets worse and worse.  In spite of all the energy expended, you’re now cold.  You’ve spent more time below the water than above it and the wetsuit doesn’t help much.  Tired and cold, if you’re a real surfer, you don’t give up.  Ultimately, you luck out, there’s a longer lull than normal and you make it out to a chorus of, “Man, you really got worked in there!”  And now you face the competition for waves. 


Maybe you get lucky.  Maybe your friends feel sorry for you and let you have one of the best waves of the day.  You drop to the bottom of the overhead wave and look upwards.  You aim your board at the feathering lip and feel the acceleration of you and your board as you rise upwards to meet it.  With perfect timing, your board and the wave meet and the falling water forces you back to the bottom.  You repeat this over and over.  It’s a dance.  You’re in perfect harmony.  You look down the line of the wave and you see a concave section ahead.  It’s already starting to pitch over.  You have a choice.  You could turn down and safely end your ride as the rest of the wave closes out ahead.  Instead, you go for it, crouching, then extending your body forward to add speed.  As you reach the edge of the concavity, you squat low and sure enough, you’re inside the wave with small window of light out ahead.  You hold on and pop out a few seconds later to imagined cheers from the beach.  Of course, no one saw it.  The guys in the lineup can’t see the front of the wave and are looking at the next ones in the set anyway.  It’s yours and only yours, and somehow even for just one perfect wave, the struggle and fatigue and stuffed sinuses were worth it.

Congratulations!  You've done it.  You built a successful startup and you've sold it.  Perhaps you have some ongoing obligations: transition, earn out, pay out over time, but you'll soon be financially comfortable or on your way to your next venture.  Now,  are you ready for the disappointment?

Virtually every entrepreneur I've known has ultimately been disappointed after selling their startups.  They go in to the sale optimistic for the future.  Their businesses or the associated technologies will live beyond them.  The demanding work that they and their teams have faced is coming to an end.   They'll have financial success.  They can finally get a life and spend time with their families. 

Sadly, the fact is that most entrepreneurs are disappointed in one way or another.  Here are some examples:

Of course not all startup sales are disappointments.

One entrepreneur sold his struggling business in an all stock deal for $5 per share, worth nearly $5 million to him after a 3 year earn out.  His new job as CTO of the acquiring division gave him control and he became wealthy as the stock rose to $55 per share.  He, too, left the industry, happy with what he knew was a very lucky break.  Had the acquisition delayed even a month, he would have been out of business.

Another sold her very small technology startup to a large company in an all-cash deal, turning her product over to the acquirer.  She walked away and became an Angel Investor, helping several successful startups. 

The reality is, when you sell your startup, you don't really know what's going to happen next.  The economy could change, political winds or industry competition could obviate the need for your technology, the new owners could make big management mistakes, or their companies could fail.  You need to be careful:

And most important: Lower your expectations.  You're selling your business.  You have to be prepared to let it go.  Otherwise, I guarantee you will be disappointed.

First Building Your Startup Post
Previous Post: When Should you Throw in the Towel?

Okay.  I'll try to keep this from being too much of a rant, but the truth is, I hate Daylight Savings time.  I hate it most here in the United States.  I may not like it much in other countries, but the US version makes no sense at all. 

Of course I know all the arguments in favor of Daylight Savings time.  It saves energy.  It helps tourism and leisure businesses as people stay out playing later.  It reduces car accidents during later commute hours.

But did you know that more people die of heart attacks, strokes, and car accidents in the days after a time change?  How about the fact that kids have to go to school in the dark, or that early commuters have more accidents.  Worse, here in the US, the 2007 change that took us out of step with most of the rest  of the modern world actually reduced the energy savings we had before. 

Daylight savings time has been around a long time.  Ben Franklin is often credited with the idea, but from what I've read, this was from an article joking that Parisians could benefit from getting up earlier.   It didn't get officially implemented until over a century later.  Most of modern Europe adopted it in 1916 and the US quickly followed suit, matching the times of year for turning your clock forward and back.  During World War II, the US went on War Time - Daylight Savings Time ran year-round. 

In the 1960's the US and most of the Europe coordinated their Daylight Savings time.  If you're going to have it, this makes sense. 

But then in 2007, the US decided to advance the change in the spring by 3 weeks and delay the return to Standard Time in the fall by a week.  I wasn't happy with the idea before, but this just seemed insane. 

First, it took us out of step with the rest of the world.  And of course it meant that more kids had to go to school in the dark for longer in the year.  The US Department of Energy conducted a study that showed this change had ZERO benefit, and subsequent studies proved that although a trivial amount of energy for light was conserved, there was a substantial increase in the demand for heating, far offsetting any potential benefit. 

I know, I'm biased.  I'm an early riser and like to be in the surf at sunrise.  I hate the fact that in March, I can't get in the water at 6am.  But what really gets me about Daylight Savings time is how illogically it's implemented. 

Let's think about this in terms of its goal - to take more advantage of daylight hours.  Sure, near the summer, particularly in northern latitudes, it makes sense.  Very few people get up at 4:30 in the morning, so why not make the sunrise 5:30am and give us more light in the evening.  I get it. 

But in Winter?  As far as I know, it's still winter. 

Look, if we're going to have Daylight Savings time, it should be symmetric with respect to the solstice.  The winter solstice is the shortest day of the year and the summer solstice is the longest day of the year.  Right now, we start Daylight Savings Time about 10 weeks after the winter solstice.  Europe starts 3 weeks later.  We end Daylight Savings Time about 6 weeks before the winter solstice.  This is crazy.  If it was too dark to start Daylight Savings less than 10 weeks from the darkest day, why would you wait to end it until 6 weeks before the darkest day? 

I heard one argument that the US extended the ending date to make it more light for kids on Halloween.  Who goes out trick or treating when it's light? 

Aside from the loss of early surf sessions and the confusion working with other countries caused by the inconsistent time changes in the US, the lack of any proven benefit to that 2007 change, and the studies that show it has actually caused harm, suggest to me that we should at least go back to the policy from before 2007, or better yet, revisit the whole idea of Daylight Savings Time.

Writing a novel is supposed to be creative and cathartic.  It's the ultimate expression of great stories through your ideas, emotions, and deep thoughts framed with human drama and moments of humor.  But getting from that first blank page to a work of 300 or more pages is intimidating, even if you've done it before.

When I started my first novel,  The Silicon Lathe, I knew I wanted to tell a semi-autobiographical tale of my life as a young entrepreneur starting out in the Silicon Valley.  After a long career filled with my experiences  of  innovation, creativity, and altruism confronting ambition, greed, manipulation, and downright evil, I knew I had more than enough material for a novel, probably several.  Wherever there's money to be made you will find the best and the worst in people. 

And I was lucky.  Since the novel is about the history of the Silicon Valley, I could just start at the beginning of my career and finish at the end.  To bring the proper context to the reader, I took the logical approach of opening each section with the year's global events.  It was easy to put together a simple outline for the book. 

When I wanted to add sections about extreme sports and juxtapose them with the challenges, successes and failures, all I had to do was insert them in the proper places. 

My second novel, Ethics (unpublished), was a cathartic book.  I started by writing the first and last chapters, then worked from back to front to fill in an outline.   I poured my heart into the novel  and often found myself writing long emotional diatribes.  My early readers pointed out that I'd gone a little far with most of these and suggested some trimming or perhaps more accurately, some serious clear cutting.  But with the outline, this clean up was easy to do and Ethics is arguably my best work to date. 

With The Shadow of God, an outline was essential.  This was my first foray into the mystery/psychological thriller genre.  Imagery was a key part to very subtle foreshadowing as were the clues that I dropped in each section.  As the San Francisco Book Reviewer said:

"Jackowski lays out the information in such a way that everything is in place long before you discover it. This is a very smart book, perfect for both readers who like to try to solve the crime before the characters do and readers who love to reread mysteries to see all the hints early on."

The outline enabled me to decide where to put the clues and even to move them around when I made organizational revisions.   Even better, when I was well into the book and wrote something that required corresponding changes earlier on, those places in the book were easier to find using the outline - certainly easier than searching for key words or reading for situations whose locations I couldn't quite remember months later. 

Unfortunately, in my latest novel, I decided to try to write it without an outline.  It hasn't gone well.  I've written sections to introduce each of the main characters, have set up several ominous situations, have laid down hints to start leading the reader astray, but the fact is, since I'm not sure where I'm going, it's kind of hard to bring the reader along.  I find that I have too many options.  I start down a path, then backtrack or second guess myself.  It has taken me far longer to get less than 25% done than it did to write an entire outlined novel.  I'm starting over with an outline and will refine it to a couple of levels before I start continue writing this book. 

What I've learned is that outlining is not just an organizational tool.  It forces you to think through your story and to make decisions so that when you're heads down, you know where you've got to get to.  Even better, when you hit a block on a particular subject or character, you can just decide to write a different section and come back to the difficult one when you're ready.  

Unlike a building, where you need to lay the foundation before getting into the heavy construction, as a writer, if you have an outline as your plan, you have the freedom to construct the story and then to come back to lay that foundation with clues and foreshadowing.  

For me, the outline is my safety net.  I won't write without one again.

Most of my posts on #startups have focused on how to avoid making mistakes that may lead to failure.  My first post, How to Build a Startup Company - Part 1,  asked some fundamental questions about your motivations when looking at undertaking a startup.  Subsequent posts tried to get you thinking about viability of your product or service, business planning, hiring the right people, and management skills. 

But the reality is that even if you do everything right, there's a chance that you'll fail.  Sometimes markets change.  The economy can turn.  An unexpected competitor may arise.  You or a critical team member may become seriously ill or have an accident.  There are countless disasters awaiting a new startup.  And many very successful entrepreneurs admit to having failed multiple times before finally achieving their dreams. 

You need to be prepared for possible failure.  If not, you could lose more than your business.

As I described in earlier posts, building a startup is not only hard on you, it's hard on your family and those around you.   You'll spend too much time away from your spouse and children.  You'll be interrupted at the worst times and often need to be available 24x7.  Relationships suffer, divorces frequently follow. 

It gets worse if you fail.  Your confidence will be shaken.  You may get depressed.  You could be even less available to those who care about you.  

But absolute disaster strikes when you've led  yourself and your family into financial ruin.  No more savings, no more retirement monies, no more equity in your home, you've raided your kids' college funds, you've run up credit card debt, have no income, no prospects for a job, and no funds to do another startup.  As ridiculous as it may sound, you could end up on the street.  I've seen it happen.  You can't let it go that far.

To use an overused boxing analogy, you need to know when to throw in the towel. 

So, how do you know when to give it up?

In an ideal scenario, you would make this part of your business plan.  Just as you set milestones for success, you should set checkpoints to assess possible failure.  You need to draw lines you won't cross.  These will be different for everyone depending on their financial and family situations. 

This may seem obvious, but when you're in the heat of it all, when you're fighting to keep your company alive, when you're sure that if you borrow from your retirement monies or take out an equity loan on your house, you'll be able to save your business, you usually won't see that you're about to go too far.   It's hard to step back and take an objective look when you're under live fire.  But you MUST do it.

If at all possible, have an uninvolved observer look at your situation regularly.  It could be your board of directors, a friend you trust.  It might be your spouse. 

In my lengthy career, I've seen many disastrous business failures that ruined peoples lives. But I decided to do this post now because of two recent startup failures.  The first involved a person with no family obligations.  Unfortunately, she didn't draw that line and ultimately burned through savings, retirement monies, and equity, losing her business and owing the government a lot of money.

The second involved someone with a family who originally promised to give his dream a year.  He had sufficient monies to keep it going that long and wanted to see if he could make a living out of what had always been a recreational passion. 

But at the end of a year, monies were not flowing in.  Many of his targeted milestones had not been achieved.  Could he really give up his fledgling startup after investing a year and getting others committed to his vision?   When he told me he was thinking of dipping into his retirement accounts, I sent him a list of questions about what he'd learned about himself and his business opportunity over the past year.  Fortunately, he did an honest assessment of his strengths and weaknesses and determined that at least for now, in the way he's approached it, he wasn't going to be able to support his family via his new venture anytime soon. 

He'll continue to try to build the business part-time, but he's not betting everything on something that's not ready to support his family.  He's now interviewing for positions that will enable him to make a good living.  This was a wise decision.

Don't get me wrong.  I'm not suggesting you plan for failure.  However, I think it's critical for you to establish limits on the risks you're going to take.  And somehow, you must find a way to objectively assess where you are and avoid a failure that could destroy not just your business, but your family and your life.  Don't let yourself believe that even though you've missed your goals, if you just put more money and time in, you can save your business. 

You're much smarter if you can walk away before disaster strikes and as the old saying goes, live to fight another day.

The translation of The Shadow of God is finally done - at least we're done with the first pass.  For those of you who may not have followed our progress on this effort, you might want to have a look at Translating My Novels and Another Translation Challenge: Shaggy Dog Stories.  These two posts discuss the approach that Peyo Amulet and I took and some of the initial challenges we encountered. 

Overall, it has taken about a year to get through our process.  Of course Peyo had other translation projects to work on so he wasn't on this full time.  Plus, our process allowed for a fair amount of down time.  Essentially, it went as follows:

Among the open issues we had were what to do with the Shaggy Dog Stories, final formatting of dialogue, and language.  Often Peyo would push for more formal/literary language, where I was pushing for more colloquial French, particularly with dialogue. 

For the Shaggy Dog Stories, we finally decided to translate them into French, then to add a footnote to explain the play on words in English.  I think this reads well. 

We got through the final 50 pages in October and began the somewhat arduous process of reassembling and reformatting the document.  It may seem like a minor issue, but in French, quotation marks are followed by a space.  Question marks, exclamation points, colons, and semi-colons are preceded by a space.  While MS Word inserts these for the French Language, the version of Word that Peyo used would line wrap them and sometimes we'd end up with a question mark, exclamation point, colon, etc.  alone on a line.  Or they'd split oddly across lines.  I finally figured out how to force Word to use non-breaking spaces with these characters and the document cleaned up nicely.

I forwarded the reassembled book to a French friend and she tore through it, finding countless typos and making a number of suggestions.  Peyo reviewed and incorporated these and today, I sent copies out to a well-known French author and to two friends who claim to be Monsieur and Madame Tout-le-Monde.  They wanted to be among the first to read the book. I've asked them to be brutally honest.  Specifically, I want to know:

With luck I'll have their comments back in a few weeks.  While waiting, I'm searching for someone who can redo the front and back cover to replace the English.  Then Peyo and I will make one more pass before seeking a French publisher.  We also need to create a French web page for The Shadow of God (now L'Ombre de Dieu) on this site or perhaps even create a French version of the entire site.  After all, if it goes well for L'Ombre de Dieu in France, I'll want to translate The Silicon Lathe, and Ethics (which I might actually publish there).  Clearly there's still a lot to do.

Wish us luck!

Hoping to accelerate the time to get his service business going live,  one of the entrepreneurs I'm working with recently asked me whether he should have developers build software, find a third party who could deliver something sooner, or find open source software that the developers could customize. 

Of course, I said it depends. 

Obviously it depends on cost versus the benefit of time to market, but there are other considerations including impact on your staff, your support plans, and perhaps most important, your exit strategy. 

Although most entrepreneurs are faced with this decision at some point and most have no problem making a good decision, I thought I'd jot down a few considerations just in case there's something you might not have thought of. 

Build it yourself

I must admit that in all of my companies, we built our own products.  This was largely because our initial products were 'under the covers' - inside operating systems and invisible to users.  At the time, there really weren't any off-the-shelf solutions that we could use as the basis for what we were building.  In fact, most of our products were these tools that others could use to build their products. 

This approach worked well for us for the following reasons:

Of course we had to pay for development and it took more time to get to market, but for us, this approach worked out well.

Using Open Source Software

In my last company, we moved from tools to end-user products and since we weren't the strongest in building beautiful user interfaces, we took advantage of publicly available open source software that was subject to the GNU public license (GPL).  This sped up our development substantially, and since we had a solid proprietary base, the addition of the open source code presented little risk to our products.  We kept the code modularly separate from our main code so we were able to avoid some of the more restrictive aspects of the GPL.  The main advantages to this approach were:

The way we handled it presented minimal risks, but there were disadvantages:

Because we were careful and knowledgeable in how we used the open source code, it worked to our advantage, advancing our time to market while preserving our control of the code, and presented only minor issues during our exit (acquisition).

Buying/licensing from a third party

Although we never bought components from a 3rd party to incorporate into our products, we were one of the third parties that sold components and tools to others to help them get to market quicker.  Our products were closed to the buyers.  That is, they bought functionality and we provided external interfaces.  We never supplied source code and they never needed it. 

From our perspective (and theirs since they paid us), buying from us had the following advantages:

• Very rapid time to market.
• A professional organization who guaranteed responsive support.
• No requirement to hire expertise they didn't have or want to have longer term.

As it turned out, well more than half of our customers were acquired by larger companies.  Because we had assignment clauses for our licenses with clear explanations of what that meant in terms of fees and rights, all of these deals went off without a hitch.  And of course, we were happy to welcome these much larger companies as our new customers. 

So, if you're faced with the choice of build it yourself, use open source, or buy from a third party, each can work:

Build it yourself if you have the expertise and can afford to take the time to debug before getting the product/service to market.

If you need quicker time to market and have some expertise in-house, try for open source.  Be sure to keep the open source separate from other components of your offering if at all possible and to follow the GPL rules about publishing.

If you need to get to market as soon as possible, and don't have a lot of expertise in development, consider licensing from a third party.  They can give you a leg up.  Ensure that you have solid enforceable agreements for customization and support, and that assignment clauses are clear and wouldn't scare off a potential acquirer.  Also, vigorously negotiate the license fees.  Most companies are more flexible than you might imagine and many are willing to 'invest' in new ventures for back-end payments upon success.  If possible, get source code/designs.  In the worst case, ask for an escrow in case the company should go out of business. 

But whether you make it yourself, get a leg up from open source, or license a product, ultimately the packaging and presentation is yours.  You're also the face on the support.  From the public's point of view, this is your product/service.  Own it!

Dare Brittany!  That's the motto that the tourist boards are promoting in Brittany, France.  And from our experiences there, we understand where they're coming from.  Brittany is unique.  It's more rugged.  The people are tougher.  Even the bread is heartier.

Like the Basques from our favorite region of France, the Bretons had a longstanding separatist movement and still maintain their own language.  Many of the road signs are in two languages.

While Quiberon is in Brittany and fascinated us with its varied coastline and nearby prehistory, I don't think we were quite prepared for Finistere.   It was much more stark than we had imagined - almost bleak.   I had heard a lot about La Torche, the surf break with its famous Ascenseur (Elevator) - a current that runs at up to 8 miles per hour and is great for propelling you back to the lineup but we really weren't expecting any waves as the surf forecast wasn't promising.  However, with our great introduction to Brittany in Quiberon, we had high hopes for this more remote area. 

Even the names of the towns seemed intriguing.  Lot's of 'P's and apostrophes in names like Penmarc'h, Pouldreuzic, Plozevet, and Pluguffan. 

We drove through craggy rolling hills, crossing rivers, and rounding the larger city of Quimper.  Suddenly the roads narrowed - all routes seemed to be single-laned.  There were fields but they all seemed to be fallow - nothing was planted - and it was the end of May!  We saw very few houses, just lots of open countryside.   Nothing really changed as we neared the coast and approached our hotel.  However, the architecture of the homes was quite different.  As we later learned, the homes were built for multiple families and their animals - to shelter them from the harsh winters.  Then, there it was - a completely incongruous building with neon lights - the Breiz Armor.  Although the hotel was nice in a Best Western sort of way, it seemed completely out of place on Penhors plage which is officially part of Pouldreuzic.  We decided to cancel our dinner reservations and to search the nearby towns for a more 'authentic' place to eat.   

Continuing on the small country roads, we found some charming villages and ultimately a good restaurant.  On our way back just after sunset, out in the middle of nowhere, we passed what looked like an ancient chapel.   In the dim light, we discovered that outside this chapel was one of the oldest and most famous calvaries -  large granite sculptures which depict the life of Christ - from before birth to crucifixion and the resurrection.  One of the most notable things which I found indicative of the attitude of 15th century Brittany (it was built about 1450), was a sculpture of Mary giving birth - breasts exposed.  I'm surprised this wasn't considered blasphemous but again, I think it bespeaks the practical, down-to-earth nature of the Bretons of the time.  It was getting dark and our pictures didn't turn out well, so the one at left was borrowed from the Wikepedia site. 

In the morning we got up and did a hike along the GR 34.  At over 1600 kilometers, this is one of the longest Grande Randonnees in Europe.  It was a cool drizzly morning and we made our way along the tortured rocky coastline to the north.  To the south there were miles of sand dunes.  Along the trail, there are signs about the area.  Many explain the harsh life of the Finistere Bretons, most of whom made their livings harvesting kelp, then submitting it to an arduous process to extract iodine for sale.  It was a meager living at best.  They also talked of shipwrecks - not from centuries ago, but from the 20th century.  While this group of Bretons knew the ocean, the rocky coast, radical tide changes, and severe weather cost many their lives.

After a bit more exploration of this bleak part of Finistere, we continued our trip  towards our next destination, Perros Guirec.  Along the way we passed though a spectacular national park of rocky cliffs and pine forests, then decided to stop for lunch in Morlaix, hometown to one of our French friends.   The town is built in a canyon carved out by a small river.  On the north end is a harbor which is inland from the coast.  We'll definitely return to do more exploration of Morlaix.

Arriving at our hotel in Perros Guirec, we were blown away.  The  Hotel Manoir du Sphinx is built into the side of a cliff that looks out onto the seven islands.  It sits half way between the two main areas of Perros Guirec - a harbor to the east and a long beach to the west.  We went for a walk to do some exploring and found the people very friendly - even more reminiscent of the Basque region where everyone you pass says hello.    We had an excellent meal in the hotel's restaurant and explored a bit more of the town afterwards.

The next day we did a hike towards the west on the GR 34.  This section of the Grande Randonnee features spectacular pink granite rock formations.  The trail itself follows the ancient Sentier des Douaniers - trail of the customs agents.  Along the trail there are small structures built of pink granite that are camouflaged among the rocks so that the custom agents could spy on smugglers. 

After several miles, we turned back passing through the village of Ploumanac'h, and then catching up to the GR 34 again.  There was some small crowded surf in the afternoon but I decided to pass.  That evening we had another fantastic dinner, this time at La Suite overlooking the beach in western Perros. 

For breakfast the next morning, we stopped at a artisanal bakery where we found some of the best bread we've eaten in France - and that's saying a lot!  We're big bread fans and the French with their 3-4 bakes a day supply some of the best, freshest bread in the world.  But I do love heavy breads like the black breads found in Germany and eastern Europe, so I really enjoyed the hearty fresh bread of Brittany.

In looking back at our quick trip up the west coast of France with our stops in Ile d'Oleron, Olonne-sur-mer, and Quiberon (which is part of Brittany), clearly Brittany wins out.  We felt at home there much as we do in the Basque Region.  Between the history (actually pre-history), the spectacular landscapes, the rugged ocean, the GR 34, and the interesting people, there's much to explore and experience.  Without a doubt, we'll be going back.

I've written a few blogs about les Trois Couronnes, one of the majestic peaks that dominate the Pays Basque in France.  I've also mentioned La Rhune, a higher peak to which many of the Basques attribute supernatural occurrences.  These two dominate the skyline to the south.  But there's one more that rises out of the ocean just below the border.  It's called Jaizkibel.  While we know quite a bit about the first two, we'd never hiked Jaizkibel.  It was a Saturday with rain forecast to come in about noon.  I had hoped to hike west of San Sebastian near the town of Itziar - an area called Itxaspe.  The cliffs are spectacular, the rock formations date from ancient periods, and to be honest, it appears there are some 'undiscovered' perfect point and reef breaks there if you're willing to descend the three hundred foot cliffs. 

But because of the forecast rain, Martine, our hiking partner, suggested we do Jaizkibel instead.   The mountain is a ridge that borders the ocean starting in the now-trendy Spanish town of Hondarribia.  The ocean side is rough with no roads and only trail access.  The inland side is a valley  With the Pyrenees (and Les Trois Couronnes) just a few miles to the south.  If you start at the lighthouse in Hondarribia, it's 22 km (14 miles) to Pasaia at the other end of the ridge.  Martine proposed we start about half way, at a ruined Parador, given the incoming weather. 

I didn't know anything about Paradors.  In our ten years together, Karen never mentioned that she had stayed in many when she lived in Spain.  Paradors are luxury hotels owned by the Spanish government which are located in old castles, monasteries, estates, and other exotic buildings.  They were built by the government to encourage the economies of out-of-the-way places.   I found a site with a map of the Spanish Paradors and clicked on several to get descriptions of the properties as well as things to do in the surrounding areas.  Karen and I will definitely be visiting a few of these (particularly in Galicia and out near the border with Portugal).

The Jaizkibel Parador was torn down in 1999 and all that's left are some stone structures and part of the foundation.  The views are spectacular.  On the south side, you see the valley with Irun below and the Pyrenees behind.  To the north,  the rugged cliffs below, and to the northeast, Hondarribia, Hendaye, and the coastline of southwest France.  On a clear day you can see much of the way to Bordeaux.  Unfortunately, it wasn't a clear day...

We started our hike with a descent of about 200' towards the ocean along a closed dirt road.  About a mile later after trying a small trail that led nowhere, we encountered the GR 121 - one of Europe's Grand Randonnees.  This is the 22 km trail I mentioned above.  It is a well-maintained, easy trail with gentle slopes.  We turned towards Pasaia and followed the trail into the mist as we climbed towards the peak of Jaizkibel.  Along the way we had views of the rugged, mostly inaccessible coast below us to the north and off to the west.  There were numerous trails that branched off the GR121 towards the ocean below, but given the impending weather we decided to save them for another day. 

During most of our hikes in the Pyrenees, we've encountered wild horses called Pottoks.  They are small and very tough-looking.  As we climbed, we encountered a group of horses, including a foal, but we weren't sure if they were wild or not.

We continued upward thorough a forested area crossed by numerous creeks but decided to bypass the trail that led to the tower-laden peak, choosing instead to follow the GR 121 along the top of the ridge. 

Three and a half miles into the hike, we decided to stop for lunch at one of the ruined lookout posts similar to the one near the Parador.  We set up our lunches and of course, it began to rain, hard.  We wolfed down as much as we could under the improvised shelter of our rain jackets and decided it might be a good idea to head back.  Fortunately, about a mile later, the rain eased up and we got a few sunny breaks.

We made our way back through a few sprinkles, but it was clear from the increasing winds that the main part of the storm was on its way.  It had been nice hike of about 7 miles round trip.  In addition to the impressive views, along the way, Martine pointed out a few things of note.  The first picture below is of a very small pinkish plant that is a carnivore.  It secretes a dew-like drop that attracts insects, but is so sticky that they can't escape.  Then the leaves enshroud them.  We were able to trigger the closing with pieces of grass. 

We also encountered some interesting rock formations with large hollows in them.  Martine explained that these volcanic rocks were formed with glass balls inside.  As the rocks erode, the balls become exposed, fall out, then eventually roll all the way to the ocean.

After our return, Martine send me a few pictures from one of her previous hikes on a much nicer day.  She had taken one of the lower trails from the lighthouse in Hondarribia.

As you can see, it's a remarkable area.  Most of it is inaccessible except by foot.  We're looking forward to another, longer hike at Jaizkibel starting at the lighthouse.  We'll be exploring many of the lower trails that lead into small protected coves. 

Although Les Trois Couronnes and La Rhune are still the most imposing peaks of the coastal Pays Basque, if you're in the area you should consider a hike at Jaizkibel too.

After our stops at Ile d'Oloron and Olonne-Sur-Mer, we finally reached our much anticipated Brittany.  We started with the Presqu'Ile de Quiberon.  'Presque' is the French word for 'almost', so the name literally means the almost island of Quiberon.  And it is an almost-island.  Quiberon is divided into two parts, Saint-Pierre-Quiberon and Presqu'ile de Quiberon.  The latter is separated from the mainland by a sliver-thin peninsula that is only about 70 feet wide.  Driving over this narrow stretch, it's hard to believe that with the radical tide changes in the area, the road isn't sometimes underwater making the Presqu'ile, a true island.   Still, the Presqu'ile feels like an island. 

As you can see from the satellite photo I borrowed from the Quiberon tourism website, it's about as close to an island as you can get.  With an area of less than 9 square kilometers (less than 3.5 square miles), you can walk around the entire  presqu'ile in about 4 hours on the sentier littoral which is part of the Grand Randonnee (GR) 34.  The differences you'll see are amazing.  On the mainland side, you'll find miles of sand dunes like we've seen along most of the west coast of France.  Not far down the west side is the Cote Sauvage,  a rugged rocky coastline with just a few small beaches.  As you enter the main part of the village of Quiberon near the end of the island, you find small harbors and points which block the swells from the rest of the island, and as you round the east and northeast side of the island, you find long stretches of pristine beaches and harbors with calm crystal clear water reminiscent of the Caribbean. 

Karen and I arrived in Quiberon mid-afternoon.  We were a couple hours early for our hotel check in but the staff was kind enough to show us to our spectacular ocean-view room.  They also recommended a restaurant called Les Viviers on the Cote Sauvage.    We drove over to the restaurant that stands alone on the cliffs, parked, and started walking the trail that runs along the cliffs for several miles, passing Menhirs, giant stones that date from about 5,000 BC.  At one point we saw a ruined chapel on the edge of the cliff and not far away was a section that was cordoned off.  It was an archeological site, a six thousand year old tomb. A sign indicated that most of the contents had been moved to the Prehistory Museum in Carnac, a few miles away. 

We had a superb dinner at Les Viviers, consisting of broiled clams as an appetizer, mussels for a main course, and very nice Muscadet from the Loire Valley.  Karen and I are mussel fans and these were the biggest mussels we've ever eaten.  It's not the shells that were unusual, it was hard to believe the meat fit inside the shells.  We walked a few more miles after dinner enjoying the memorable sunset.

The next morning we got up at first light and raced to Port Blanc on the Cote Sauvage to find some surf.  After a two hour session, we returned to the hotel for breakfast and then walked around the tip of the island to the east and north.  The points were lined with Cypress trees, and much of that part of the coast looked like Monterey and Pacific Grove.  As we went further east, we passed old forts and encountered new harbors and long stretches of those beaches I mentioned.  It was hard to believe how clear the water was - this was the North Atlantic Coast!

We were a bit reluctant to leave Quiberon and wanted to explore more but decided to make a stop at Carnac a few miles onto the mainland to have lunch and to check out the museum and the local Menhirs.  Karen and I are not big museum people but the Prehistory Museum in Carnac was fascinating, probably because it represented local history and prehistory starting 450,000 years ago.  In addition to the finds, it chronicled the changes in the land mass, the effects of the ice age  (which at one point froze the English Channel), and showed on maps where to go to see the original sites.  It explained the construction of the Dolmens, tombs dating back to 5,000 BC, and how the massive stones were placed on top - they filled the area with dirt, dragged the stones onto the dirt and then removed the dirt.  It also proposed numerous theories for the more than 4000 menhirs in the area and their unusual alignments. 

We left the museum and had a leisurely drive to our next stop, Finistere - land's end (or world's end) depending on your interpretation.  That is where we got a sense of how rugged Brittany can be.  Quiberon, even with its remarkable coastline was tame in comparison to what we'd see next. 

There's no question we'll be back to visit Quiberon and the surrounding area.  Between the beaches, the history, the great food and the surf, it's a place we want to take more time to explore.

The real target of our trip was Brittany so after the Ile d'Oleron, we picked a point about half way: Olonne-sur-mer.  I knew there was surf in the area, and from the photos and the bit of research I did, the place looked interesting. 

There are miles of beaches ranging from very rugged rocky areas to large sand dunes.  Just inland from the ocean is a forest, which Napoleon had planted to protect the inland areas from the sand blowing off the coast, and just a bit further inland from the forest are marshes which are stops for migrating birds and home to many exotic orchids.

The forest and the marshes are crisscrossed by almost 75  kilometers (~45 miles) of biking/hiking trails and kayaks and canoes are available for exploring the marshes. 

The area has a remarkable history dating back 2500 years.  The Romans occupied it because of its prosperous port.  England owned it beginning in the 9th century and Richard the Lionhearted considered it his favorite hunting area in France.  

Olonne-sur-mer is a community of about 14,000 people, just 5 minutes from the city of Les Sable d'Olonne.  Contrary to its name, Les Sable d'Olonne doesn't have much sand and the city is trying to find ways to save its main beach.  There's some discussion about unifying the two communities.


We arrived at the Logis Des Maraichers Monday night after a 5 hour drive that was supposed to be half that.  Philip greeted us and showed us to our room.  The Logis has 4 very elegant rooms in a closed courtyard with an outside dining area (for breakfast), and a swimming pool.  Philip then invited us to the office where he showed us maps of the area, indicated surfing spots, and made some restaurant recommendations.  He thought most would be open since it was a holiday. 

Unfortunately, his first recommendation was closed so we chose another on his list - touted for great seafood.   I'd have to say that although the service was excellent, the food was mediocre. 
  

After dinner we drove around the city.  Although there is much history in the area, it seems a bit hard to find or perhaps just incongruous with the city itself.  The Chateau St. Clair which houses a museum and has a lighthouse on its tower is interesting as are the Menhirs - standing stones that may date from 9000 years ago.  But as evidenced by the photo of the main beach which I borrowed from the city's tourism site, it seems like the city is trying to take on a very modern Riviera-like look at the expense of its history.  It probably doesn't help that during World War II, as the Germans were retreating, they destroyed the port, mined the beaches, and wiped out much of the city.   

There's a nice port, but a lot of industrialization in it.  The city doesn't have much charm.  We tried to find some cohesiveness but couldn't.  Some buildings were very new.  Others probably dated from the late 1940s.  But we didn't find much that was fascinating.  Maybe we just didn't know where to look, but in  most French towns and cities, you get a feel for them right away.    Overall, Karen and I agreed that Les Sables d'Olonne felt pretty disjoint - a city trying to find its identity.  Philip, our host at the Logis, agreed.  He's British and came here several years ago in search of an opportunity near the coast.  He seems to have found it in Orlonne-sur-mer, just a few miles north of the city, as the area is popular with the British and with people from the low countries who love the biking trails.  

We got up at first light the next morning and went to one of the prime surf spots called Sauveterre.  It's also a naturist beach, though on that day, it was a bit chilly.  The surf was too small to be of interest, but with miles of sand dunes to the south and reefs from there northward, I could see the potential. 

Giving up on surf, we decided to go for a hike through the Foret d'Olonne.  Like many of the forests that Napoleon had planted along the coast, it was composed of pines growing in sand or sandy soil.  We had a nice walk, but there wasn't anything really remarkable there.

Apparently it wasn't the best time of year for bird viewing so we didn't bring our kayaks and didn't take the time to rent some to explore the marshes.  Since the area didn't excite us too much, we were anxious to move on to Brittany and our next stop, Quiberon.