The hills are still bare and sere, less than alive. But spring is in the air! The day began overcast, with, however, "Dutchman's britches," patches of pale blue parting the clouds here and there. Lunch was great, since we enjoyed the company of Vicky's mother as well as Kate, one of our caregivers. By then the day was gorgeous. And thought I had errands to run, my first duty was to get out there and relish all that the day offered. Starting to regain my mojo. After I crested Gunstock Creek Road, my nose detected the aroma of rain evaporating from the pavement. Then, a patch or two where a farmer had burned off the weeds. Take a right on 122, then onto the home stretch. It's great to be alive, in such an incredibly lovely corner of the earth!
Easy ten-mile ride today -- although I did make it to the top of Oordeel Hill in 3rd gear. The thermometer told me that it was springtime weather, around 70 degrees, so I pulled on my summer shorts and a Goodwill tee shirt, bright yellow, high-tech fabric. (amazing what you can find for $3.79!) and hit the road. One water bottle was barely adequate for the trip.
Q. Why can you hear the cheerful chuckle of water running over rocks when going uphill, but not down?
A. Going downhill, you hear the wind in your ears.
Another beige day. The one splash of color was a bluebird couple. I assume they were a couple, since one was a bit larger and drabber than the other.
You don't really notice how overcast a day is, until a brief break in the cloud cover lets the sun paint tree shadows on the road.
One problem with getting your cycling gear from Goodwill -- the shirt was a bit too small to circumnavigate my equator.
Yes, it really had been 18 days since my last ride. That chilly / windy ride apparently triggered a relapse of my bronchitis. But, today was another day.
Partly sunny. The mountains are not greening yet, and beige is the predominant color. I pause at the top of Gunstock Creek Road and admire the peaks. They're the same color as the clouds. Head down Sedalia Creek Road, and ruefully note the oracle of the flag -- another day into the headwind, mes amis! But again, I'm not in any hurry.
Just on a lark, I turn right onto Persimmon Creek Road, and relish the expansive vistas. 90% of the harsh jumbo gravels are now politely bedded down and embedded in the road bed, so the ride was fairly smooth. At the point where Bob enjoyed the sight of a flying mountain bike -- that he'd been riding a second earlier -- I hit a headwind, and an upgrade, and turned pedestrian. Hey, I'm easing back into the regimen! Let's try it again, Bob!
Tom Smedley, the Elder and the Younger.