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More great advice! And P4GTR, congratulations! That's a great accomplishment.

MBW is okay but the red is too dark. You need a red that *pops*. Start there and then pay attention to the "O" and "L" in ROLEX. Get the right stick markers. I'd go NDTrading, Yuki and then MBW, in that order. You might even see if Kirk Rich can help you out.

This is what makes this place great. Well done, gents. Hey Ken, how far north did you have to go? If I were to go "north" it would take me about 20,000 mile to reach him.

Dang Pugs that Monstrum is just unbelievably handsome. Someone with absolutely impeccable taste must have sourced that beauty for you. If it's not the Mona Lisa of dive watches I don't know what is.

I'm guessing this will go for about $2,000 or if someone gets lucky, a little less due to the economic climate. "Red" is the guy that bought the last BL on the 'Bay and he was prepared to go $4,000 for it. His also did not have the vintage BOR bracelet like this one has. Watch the "watchuseek doxa" forum to see if anyone there spots a flaw. Else they can't mention it until after the auction. Weird, huh?

HOLY SMOKES!!! There she is, the number FIVE verified Black Lung in existence. There may be more, but this is proof that five exist. The caseback, crown, bracelet, dial and hands are correct. If you've been wanting an extremely rare dive watch, this is the time and this is the place. Doxa Black Lung

I removed the movement, pressed out the broken crystal with my thumbs, pressed in the new one from the front with my Exclusive Hockey Puck and C-Clamps method (patent pending) and presto. Waterproof too. Remove a Seiko Monster bezel? Are you kidding me?!! There are things that simply aren't done. We don't talk about these things. They're simply too painful (and apparently, impossible).

Easy to install, and you can get one from Harold Ng. Search around here on the board for more details about where I got mine for the Mod Monster.

This is a day to fly the flags at half staff. Cheers to you, Les.

I think you're right, there seems to be some water damage to the dial. Amazing that any got past that massive o-ring! That's how all the vintage Doxa are built. Here's how one "rambles" on the sea... this was outside Nome on the sea ice downwind from the Topkok Gorge. 70mph winds from the right.

Here are some photos of a sea kayaking trip to Prince William sound with the troop. Enjoy! Blackstone Glacier Scenery Who can paddle the hardest? Let's get above the high water mark Neat reflections The perfect spot Alaskan meadow Old growth trees A couple of fine Eagle Scouts The ooooooooonly way to camp I could sit here forever

Don't be so sure about that... the kind folks here at RWG are the ones that pointed me to the Ebay auction for this little beauty. Click/verify/buy. It took about 2 minutes to make my decision. Who knows when the next one will pop up?

Here's a tasty little number on the 'Bay. It's a 300T with the flat crystal (sorry, Randy). It looks to be complete and in great shape, and it has the ever-so-elusive vintage Beads of Rice bracelet. Check it out! Doxa SeaRambler

Sorry, some numbnuts wrote the original post in the wrong area. Sheesh. You pay peanuts, you get monkeys.

You got it, in the snow. And as proof, here is pictorial evidence of what Bad Thing can happen if you're unlucky enough to rotate the iPhone RIGHT.

The thing I like best about the Seiko Monster is how easily you can completely change its look and character. Here are some of my favorite shots. The Monster on Watchadoo Lumpy The Mod Monster The Stealth Monster

Jetmid? Is that you? Excellent first post!

I've found if I dress in bear skins and stand in a snowfield at the precise stroke of midnight and howl at the moon JUST AS the second theme from The Ride Of The Valkyries begins, and quickly rotate my iPhone by 90 degrees left (LEFT, not right... all manner of ungodly Bad Things happen if you rotate right) and I wink three times in rapid succession while clicking my heels... THEN (and this works every time) I get a free ride downtown in a squad car. And the "View New" feature still won't show up ............ unless I've already loaded the "Classic" skin and hit "refresh".

What a score! Congratulations on the great find! Those things are what really float my boat... I'd SO much rather get a good deal on a snarky old used-up piece of yuck, and then coax it back to life, than to just buy new. To rephrase the famous quote by Marcel Proust, "Let us leave the NOS goods to men with no imagination."

On the way!!

Oh really! Got any nice thin folded ones you want to unload? My GMT needs one...

Here's a taste of life in Alaska. Frank was on the Crow Pass trail, about 4 miles from our new home, with his son. This happened a month after Solstice on July 21st. BY FRANK GERJEVIC Be prepared or be tough. That's what my son Will, just out of the Marines, told me they say in the Corps. On the night of July 21 in Crow Pass, we were not prepared. Will was tough. I was in trouble. Three young people in a cabin were lifesavers. And a grizzly bear played a part in my rescue. We'd started late, a little after 1 p.m., but made a fairly fast hike from the Girdwood trail head nearly a dozen miles to the Eagle River ford and most of the way back with Ginger, an 8-month-old husky mix from the pound. Soaked by light rain, creek crossings and stretches of trail canopied by wet fireweed, our misery after 20 miles was the still the mild kind that just makes trail's end sweeter. Now I was falling behind on the ascent back to the pass. No big deal. At 58, I didn't expect to keep up with a 24-year-old Marine vet of Iraq and Afghanistan. But then Will yelled down to me that he needed to hustle Ginger out of the wind; she was shivering hard, balking. Maybe she was in trouble. "Are you OK?" he shouted. I told him I was good. I climbed into the wind that had sapped Ginger. Crossing the first snow field, I felt the first shadowy fear about being alone. I went slowly, clawing a better purchase with my right hand, not trusting my balance or soaked shoes to follow Will's sure tracks. I could have skirted the snow in favor of scree, but I wanted the straight line. As I made my way across the second snow field, I whispered a prayer that wouldn't be my last of the evening. I climbed to the wooden sign that marked the border of Chugach National Forest. The wind was wicked now, blowing rain sideways in the gloom toward the face of Raven Glacier. I followed a path on the ridge from the sign past one cairn and up to a larger one, where I stopped -- cold and confused. Where was the trail? I looked left to the glacier, and that looked like death. I looked right and didn't recognize the ground, especially that third patch of snow right below me. I could have sworn we crossed only two stretches of snow. So this couldn't be the trail. I must have missed something. I walked back to the sign. That began maybe an hour of walking back and forth from cairn to cairn to sign, alternately praying and telling myself to stay determined, don't panic. I tried to stand in a shallow dip of ground below the ridge on the glacier side to get out of the wind. But it was poor shelter, and I was too cold to stand still. I got back up on the ridge. Even in the growing darkness, a rough line was visible across the snow patch. Someone had walked there. It must be the trail. Still I was locked on the notion that we hadn't crossed snow three times. Just twice. But even as wind stripped my sense, I knew that there are only two directions to go. If the way left is clearly wrong, then you go right. Because if you don't, you're going to die a ridiculous death in the dark on this God-awful ridge. Twice I started for the snow; twice I hit a wall of wind and doubt. If this isn't the way, how will Will find me? Maybe it makes more sense to just stay near the Chugach sign. I shouted an angry, desperate "God!" as I turned away from a fierce blast of wind. I thought of my wife and younger boys, on vacation Outside. Then I wondered, what if something happened to Will and Ginger? THANKFULLY, GRIZZLIES Will had no reason to think I was in trouble. As he told me later, he had to carry Ginger much of the way to the outhouse near the Forest Service cabin at the summit, but she didn't want to stay there. It was minimal shelter, having had its door blown or torn off. Will took enough time to wring out his fleece jacket, then decided to try to take Ginger back to the trail head, where he planned to leave her in an outhouse that had a door while he hiked back to meet me. He didn't get far. A grizzly cub and then its mama cut across the trail in front of him. Fortunately, they were running away. He didn't want to chance crossing ma grizzly again in semidarkness, so returned to the outhouse. Now he worried that I was taking too long. In the cabin, Lily Grbavach, Vanessa Gibson and Jeremy Coleman, summer employees at the Alaska Wildlife Conservation Center, were wondering what this fellow was doing standing in their outhouse. Will had been reluctant to bother whoever was in the cabin. But he was just about to knock on the door. That's when Vanessa stepped out and asked if he wanted to come in and get warm. Will said he'd appreciate it if they would keep Ginger while he went to look for his dad. HANG ON "Dad!" I thought I heard Will's voice, but wasn't sure. I looked at the snow patch, the one I didn't believe in, and there he was. My first thought was, "Now I'm gonna make it." He asked if I was all right; I told him I was pretty cold. "Grab on to my pack," he said. So I grabbed the top of his Camelback and trudged across the snow behind him. "We're almost at the cabin," he said. "You're gonna live." After the snow I let go of his pack. It was easier that way, and there was still a small matter or pride. I'd stagger on my own two feet. He asked me questions and kept looking back to make sure I was keeping pace. "What's your name?" "Frank." "What's your last name?" "Gerjevic." "How many children do you have? "Four." He paused. "What's your name?" he asked again. I didn't respond because I figured I'd already answered that question. He turned to make sure I was still with him. "We're home free," he said. By the time we reached the cabin, maybe half-a-mile away, I was barely coherent. Will and our rescuers peeled most of my clothes off, got a dry T-shirt over my head. I think it was Lily, a UAF student and wilderness first responder, who got an improvised plastic chest wrap on my shoulders and had me pull on improvised plastic shorts to retain body heat. Then they wrapped me in three sleeping bags and I sat on the edge of a bunk. They got my feet into a pair of warm, dry socks. In the dim light I could barely make out faces, but knew I was surrounded by kind shapes and skilled hands. Will was on one side of me, Vanessa on the other. Lily tried to take my pulse, on the neck and wrist, but I was shaking too hard. I couldn't control my breathing for the shakes, but Vanessa managed to feed me sugar water, which tasted wonderful, and some of the leftover Gatorade from my soaked daypack. Lily told me later she counted 54 breaths a minute, compared to the norm of 12 to 20. Gradually the shivering subsided; breathing steadied. My legs hurt and I wanted to lie back and stretch them. Someone slipped a backpack under my head for a pillow. Settled, I listened to their conversation with Will. How fast our new friends and Will had taken the situation from emergency to yawn. COUNTING BLESSINGS The next morning Ginger nestled up with Will and warmed the shivers out of him; he'd had a cold night of fitful sleep without a bag and his feet were freezing. We had wet clothes and three miles for breakfast, but no wind or rain. Home free. Will did an after-action report. We counted our mistakes in double digits, most of them mine. We counted our blessings too. If the bear hadn't turned Will around, I'd have been on that ridge a lot longer. If our hosts hadn't been so capable ... If I hadn't been so careless ... I played my freeze on the ridge over and over. Don't worry it. Just learn for next time. Pay attention. Be ready. Be tougher. Be thankful. For Lily and Vanessa and Jeremy, who pulled me out of hypothermia at midnight. And for Will, the son who came back for his father.

Let's keep this discussion going... cycling is a great low-impact way to get good cardio exercize and the more we age the more we all need it. When you're commuting on a bike it's easy to rack up big miles. I only do about 100 miles a week commuting, but it adds up. I did 20,000 miles commuting on my Marin, now I'm on a Kona 29er and a Pugsley commuting, and the miles just keep stacking up. When I start commuting from the new house it will be 200 miles and 7,000 vertical feet a week minimum. It's tough to mentally get over the hurdle that "this is how I commute from now on" and not reach for the car keys even when the weather is nasty. But once you're hooked, you don't WANT to drive the car to work.

You bet! I use thin Wells-Lamont leather, they're cheap warm and durable. Even good for temps in the teens!