Friday, May 15, 2009
Our National Anthem
Please, if you audition to sing the Star Spangled Banner at a minor league baseball game, please refrain from all the American Idol runs, and DO NOT take liberties with the melody. It's just not right.
Saturday, November 8, 2008
Never underestimate dogs
Even when you can't know where the trail is, and it has been 20 trees since the last green blaze, trust your dog. She knows where the last 20 hikers went by, even if it has been weeks and the trail is covered with freshly fallen leaves. Her nose knows.
I'm in the forest around Bull Shoals Lake. Yes, I'm blogging from the forest and I get the irony. But at least I'm out here!
Sent from my BlackBerry Smartphone provided by Alltel
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Cycling Siloam Springs
I just got back from a little saunter around Siloam Springs on my bike. I took off down the hill on Mt. Olive towards the middle school. It's all downhill from my house, which is up on the ridge that defines the Sager Creek flood plain to the south, and where the land kind of levels out to the north, before it starts to get all foothilly for the Ozarks.
One of the many reasons I chose Siloam Springs as my hometown is that it is a very bikeable city. A reasonably fit person could ride their bike anywhere they really needed to go to get what they needed to get. It has a compact size which allows fine living in close proximity to schools, parks, health care, city hall, shopping, and dining. I intended to find a place where my youngest child, 10 at the time, could spread his independence in a wider and wider circle, and be relatively safe.
It was me who really took to the cycling, though. I hadn't owned a bike since my eldest, now 26, was an infant. My last ride before 2004 was with him in a backpack when he was just a few months old. Motherhood and work took up the time I would have used for one of my favorite things in the whole world. Such is life. (I wish I still had that old 10-speed bike, though! Such is my old bike obsession.)
I'm fortunate that a childhood favorite is something that can be done well into my dotage. Unless I keep having days like today. As I was riding on the street by the middle school, I could see a car about to leave the parking lot. It was stopped, and the driver was on a cell phone. I approached and tried to make eye contact with her. As I got to within 20 feet to the left of her car, she looked right, put down the cell phone while she looked left, and then proceeded to turn left right in front of me!
Luckily for me, I was paying attention. As I slammed on my brakes and wobbled to a stop, I hollered in her slightly open window, "HEY! You pulled out right in front of me!" and I could hear her say, "YEAH!" sarcasticly mimicking my tone. At that moment, I'm pretty sure she couldn't have cared less that she put my life in danger, and exposed herself to a possibility of paying my medical bills, getting a ticket or being sued. I'm hoping, that once she finished griping to her daughter about cyclists on the road and she calmed down, that in her quieted mind she thought of all those things, and tries to remember to pay more attention in the future. That's what happens to me when I make a driving mistake that causes a near miss (and there have been plenty just in the many miles I drove in September on The Big Trip).
I calmed down quickly (because it does no good to hang on to such things), and I headed up towards JBU on the Bike Lane to Nowhere. Everyone was polite to me as I signaled my intentions and came to full stops at intersections, but I did get a little miffed at Chris Henson as he came down the hill from JBU on foot and turned towards me into the bike lane on his run. (Why don't runners run on the sidewalk?)
At Granite Street I turned and went south on Stateline Road. Unfortunately, the same situation that happened at the middle school was setting itself up to happen AGAIN at the entrance to the casino. Exact same scenario, except this time the window was all the way down, and I was resigned to not being able to stop it, and not getting my blood pressure up over it. So when the woman got right in front of me (I could have slapped her mirror, she was that close) I just said, "You're cutting it a little close aren't you?" I didn't hear her say anything. I knew she had seen me and decided to go anyway.
These are the incidents that make me think, "That's it, I'm writing a letter!" But, I never do. It's a complicated issue. There are so many cyclists (Will calls them bikelists) who do not know the rules of the road and who do no favors to those of us who do. Then there are the real roadies who love to go fast and won't stop for anything, not even a stoplight. (They're taking their lives in their hands, and I'm surprised any of them are still alive.)
The bikelists never wear helmets, usually have their seat too low for healthy knees or effective pedaling, ride on the sidewalk, or worse, ride on the wrong side of the road in traffic, and go through stop signs without even looking for traffic. They are usually riding a bike that squeaks or doesn't shift; one that came from Wal-Mart (the only place you can buy a new bike in Siloam Springs), and was put together by an employee who doesn't know about bikes. I fell into this category when I first started riding again in 2004, but I quickly left it behind and I morphed into an enthusiast.
The real roadies are always dressed in lycra and are often men with shaved legs. Ninety-nine percent of them wear helmets, and they usually have expensive bikes, which they never use for anything but getting out of town on the highway and going as fast as possible. I sometimes fall into this category. I like going fast, too, but I like to coast more. So hammerfests are usually no fun for me. I get my need for speed fulfilled by coasting downhill!
There's a third and maybe a fourth category, too. There are the people who see cycling as a nothing more than a practical matter. They commute to work or go to the store or they ride for pleasure on the trail. They are usually discerning consumers, so they researched their bike options and may only own one bike. They usually always wear a helmet. They might have a flag on their recumbent because they're concerned about being visible.
Related to that third category, there are those who have a bike as a practical necessity. There are several of them that I see often. They are on Wal-Mart bikes, but they are riding to work at the Simmons plant with their rubber chore boots on, or back from IGA with a bag of groceries hanging off the handlebars. An article in Utne Reader I read once called these "invisible cyclists". I see them as problem solvers who are willing to work for a living and live within their means. No shame in that.
There is one thing all these cyclists have in common. They have a need to be safe on the roads. Under the scant Arkansas law that applies to cyclists, cyclists are considered vehicles, just like cars. Therefore, they are required to use the roadways. Indeed, the most oft-given advice to cyclists to remain safe on the road is to behave like a car. It is a right and a privilege for cyclists to use the roads for which they, too, pay taxes to build and maintain. It is also the cyclists responsibility to ride correctly and defensively.
This means that they should obey all traffic control devices. Stop at stop signs. Signal your turns and use the proper lane when turning. Ride with the flow of traffic. Pass other vehicles only when safe to do so, and NEVER pass a car on the right.
By the same token, cyclists should yield the lane to faster traffic when it is safe to do so. This means to stay to the right of the lane. Cyclists are not required to use the shoulder, but using it to allow traffic to pass when there is no debris or rough pavement or other unsafe conditions, is the polite thing to do. When a cyclist deems it unsafe for a vehicle to pass them, it is perfectly all right for the cyclist to claim the center of the lane and stay there until it is safe for passing. Cyclists should signal their intentions to move into the lane by pointing right or left. Making eye contact with drivers is one of the most effective methods of making your presence known. Cyclists should ride far enough out in the lane when passing parked cars to prevent a car door from hitting them if it opens unexpectedly.
For drivers' part, Arkansas law requires vehicles to give at least three feet of clearance on either side when passing a cyclist. Too many cyclists have been clipped by wide mirrors on pick-up trucks. Passing too close can cause the cyclist to wobble unsafely in the swirling draft of a large vehicle. A cyclist falling or being knocked down in traffic is more likely to be run over by a following car, not to mention the injuries that will be sustained on impact with the pavement.
If a cyclist is claiming the center of a lane, driver's should assume there is a good reason for this. There may be no shoulder, or glass or other debris on the shoulder that would cause a flat or an accident for the cyclist. The road may be too narrow for an oncoming car and a following car to pass a bicycle at the same time, and still allow the for the three feet of clearance required in the law. The cyclist may be preparing to move to the left turn or middle lane to make a left turn up ahead.
The important thing is for drivers and cyclists to be safe and courteous for each other, and not to assume the other is making them late on purpose. Are saving a few seconds really worth endangering the life or limb of a stranger?
No one I know would expect a small child to ride their bike on the road instead of the sidewalk. However, I believe parents should be teaching their children the rules of the road and how to operate a bicycle as a vehicle, as the children become developmentally ready. It may be safer for a child with poor judgment to ride on the sidewalk for the short distances that children are allowed to travel alone. But as a general rule, sidewalks are not safe for cyclists. There are too many driveways and intersections where drivers do not expect cyclists to be. A cyclist on the road is much more recognizable to drivers as a vehicle. A cyclist on the sidewalk is not expected by drivers to cross every driveway and every intersection without stopping.
There is no law in Arkansas which requires bicycles to be on the sidewalk, and none that prohibit it. If a cyclist prefers to ride on sidewalks, and is able to safely manage the obstacles of pedestrians, lampposts, etc., AND is willing to stop at every intersection like a pedestrian and look both ways before crossing, then there is nothing wrong with it. But a bicycle's optimal use is as a vehicle, and vehicles belong on the streets. Knowing how to safely ride in the streets with the flow of traffic is a useful skill that adults should learn and children should be taught.
One of the many reasons I chose Siloam Springs as my hometown is that it is a very bikeable city. A reasonably fit person could ride their bike anywhere they really needed to go to get what they needed to get. It has a compact size which allows fine living in close proximity to schools, parks, health care, city hall, shopping, and dining. I intended to find a place where my youngest child, 10 at the time, could spread his independence in a wider and wider circle, and be relatively safe.
It was me who really took to the cycling, though. I hadn't owned a bike since my eldest, now 26, was an infant. My last ride before 2004 was with him in a backpack when he was just a few months old. Motherhood and work took up the time I would have used for one of my favorite things in the whole world. Such is life. (I wish I still had that old 10-speed bike, though! Such is my old bike obsession.)
I'm fortunate that a childhood favorite is something that can be done well into my dotage. Unless I keep having days like today. As I was riding on the street by the middle school, I could see a car about to leave the parking lot. It was stopped, and the driver was on a cell phone. I approached and tried to make eye contact with her. As I got to within 20 feet to the left of her car, she looked right, put down the cell phone while she looked left, and then proceeded to turn left right in front of me!
Luckily for me, I was paying attention. As I slammed on my brakes and wobbled to a stop, I hollered in her slightly open window, "HEY! You pulled out right in front of me!" and I could hear her say, "YEAH!" sarcasticly mimicking my tone. At that moment, I'm pretty sure she couldn't have cared less that she put my life in danger, and exposed herself to a possibility of paying my medical bills, getting a ticket or being sued. I'm hoping, that once she finished griping to her daughter about cyclists on the road and she calmed down, that in her quieted mind she thought of all those things, and tries to remember to pay more attention in the future. That's what happens to me when I make a driving mistake that causes a near miss (and there have been plenty just in the many miles I drove in September on The Big Trip).
I calmed down quickly (because it does no good to hang on to such things), and I headed up towards JBU on the Bike Lane to Nowhere. Everyone was polite to me as I signaled my intentions and came to full stops at intersections, but I did get a little miffed at Chris Henson as he came down the hill from JBU on foot and turned towards me into the bike lane on his run. (Why don't runners run on the sidewalk?)
At Granite Street I turned and went south on Stateline Road. Unfortunately, the same situation that happened at the middle school was setting itself up to happen AGAIN at the entrance to the casino. Exact same scenario, except this time the window was all the way down, and I was resigned to not being able to stop it, and not getting my blood pressure up over it. So when the woman got right in front of me (I could have slapped her mirror, she was that close) I just said, "You're cutting it a little close aren't you?" I didn't hear her say anything. I knew she had seen me and decided to go anyway.
These are the incidents that make me think, "That's it, I'm writing a letter!" But, I never do. It's a complicated issue. There are so many cyclists (Will calls them bikelists) who do not know the rules of the road and who do no favors to those of us who do. Then there are the real roadies who love to go fast and won't stop for anything, not even a stoplight. (They're taking their lives in their hands, and I'm surprised any of them are still alive.)
The bikelists never wear helmets, usually have their seat too low for healthy knees or effective pedaling, ride on the sidewalk, or worse, ride on the wrong side of the road in traffic, and go through stop signs without even looking for traffic. They are usually riding a bike that squeaks or doesn't shift; one that came from Wal-Mart (the only place you can buy a new bike in Siloam Springs), and was put together by an employee who doesn't know about bikes. I fell into this category when I first started riding again in 2004, but I quickly left it behind and I morphed into an enthusiast.
The real roadies are always dressed in lycra and are often men with shaved legs. Ninety-nine percent of them wear helmets, and they usually have expensive bikes, which they never use for anything but getting out of town on the highway and going as fast as possible. I sometimes fall into this category. I like going fast, too, but I like to coast more. So hammerfests are usually no fun for me. I get my need for speed fulfilled by coasting downhill!
There's a third and maybe a fourth category, too. There are the people who see cycling as a nothing more than a practical matter. They commute to work or go to the store or they ride for pleasure on the trail. They are usually discerning consumers, so they researched their bike options and may only own one bike. They usually always wear a helmet. They might have a flag on their recumbent because they're concerned about being visible.
Related to that third category, there are those who have a bike as a practical necessity. There are several of them that I see often. They are on Wal-Mart bikes, but they are riding to work at the Simmons plant with their rubber chore boots on, or back from IGA with a bag of groceries hanging off the handlebars. An article in Utne Reader I read once called these "invisible cyclists". I see them as problem solvers who are willing to work for a living and live within their means. No shame in that.
There is one thing all these cyclists have in common. They have a need to be safe on the roads. Under the scant Arkansas law that applies to cyclists, cyclists are considered vehicles, just like cars. Therefore, they are required to use the roadways. Indeed, the most oft-given advice to cyclists to remain safe on the road is to behave like a car. It is a right and a privilege for cyclists to use the roads for which they, too, pay taxes to build and maintain. It is also the cyclists responsibility to ride correctly and defensively.
This means that they should obey all traffic control devices. Stop at stop signs. Signal your turns and use the proper lane when turning. Ride with the flow of traffic. Pass other vehicles only when safe to do so, and NEVER pass a car on the right.
By the same token, cyclists should yield the lane to faster traffic when it is safe to do so. This means to stay to the right of the lane. Cyclists are not required to use the shoulder, but using it to allow traffic to pass when there is no debris or rough pavement or other unsafe conditions, is the polite thing to do. When a cyclist deems it unsafe for a vehicle to pass them, it is perfectly all right for the cyclist to claim the center of the lane and stay there until it is safe for passing. Cyclists should signal their intentions to move into the lane by pointing right or left. Making eye contact with drivers is one of the most effective methods of making your presence known. Cyclists should ride far enough out in the lane when passing parked cars to prevent a car door from hitting them if it opens unexpectedly.
For drivers' part, Arkansas law requires vehicles to give at least three feet of clearance on either side when passing a cyclist. Too many cyclists have been clipped by wide mirrors on pick-up trucks. Passing too close can cause the cyclist to wobble unsafely in the swirling draft of a large vehicle. A cyclist falling or being knocked down in traffic is more likely to be run over by a following car, not to mention the injuries that will be sustained on impact with the pavement.
If a cyclist is claiming the center of a lane, driver's should assume there is a good reason for this. There may be no shoulder, or glass or other debris on the shoulder that would cause a flat or an accident for the cyclist. The road may be too narrow for an oncoming car and a following car to pass a bicycle at the same time, and still allow the for the three feet of clearance required in the law. The cyclist may be preparing to move to the left turn or middle lane to make a left turn up ahead.
The important thing is for drivers and cyclists to be safe and courteous for each other, and not to assume the other is making them late on purpose. Are saving a few seconds really worth endangering the life or limb of a stranger?
No one I know would expect a small child to ride their bike on the road instead of the sidewalk. However, I believe parents should be teaching their children the rules of the road and how to operate a bicycle as a vehicle, as the children become developmentally ready. It may be safer for a child with poor judgment to ride on the sidewalk for the short distances that children are allowed to travel alone. But as a general rule, sidewalks are not safe for cyclists. There are too many driveways and intersections where drivers do not expect cyclists to be. A cyclist on the road is much more recognizable to drivers as a vehicle. A cyclist on the sidewalk is not expected by drivers to cross every driveway and every intersection without stopping.
There is no law in Arkansas which requires bicycles to be on the sidewalk, and none that prohibit it. If a cyclist prefers to ride on sidewalks, and is able to safely manage the obstacles of pedestrians, lampposts, etc., AND is willing to stop at every intersection like a pedestrian and look both ways before crossing, then there is nothing wrong with it. But a bicycle's optimal use is as a vehicle, and vehicles belong on the streets. Knowing how to safely ride in the streets with the flow of traffic is a useful skill that adults should learn and children should be taught.
Friday, October 3, 2008
Catching up
I'm loving being home from the long trip east. For the last week we have been catching up, unpacking, slowly experiencing re-entry into our lives at home. It was so good to see the dogs and cats. And Charles, too, but we got to see him in Little Rock before we got home
Going back through the pictures, there are some I wanted to post and never got around to, so that's what I'm doing now.
~~~~~~~
On a couple of mornings at the Live & Learn Conference, I managed to get up and exercise. The place has a gymnasium and a work out room, but the gym is mostly a basketball court, and the work out room was locked that early in the morning. It was okay, because there was a lovely porch on the building, with the gigantic Roman columns. I took my yoga mat over and did the Master Your Body routine, along with 100 jumping jacks and extra stretching. The sun was coming up to the east, over the mountain and across the great lawn in front of Lee Hall. Here's a picture of Lee Hall:
While doing ab-dogs, I noticed spider webs on the porch railings, and this really cool double one next to a column. The sun was shining through I just couldn't resist taking a picture of it.
Another instance where I was limited by the screen on my point-n-shoot digital camera. Not the best framing, but I still like the way the web looks.
~~~~~~~~~
A DIFFERENT DAY:
Will and I took a ride down to the ocean from our campsite at Cape Henlopen State Park near Lewes, Delaware. Even the mountain bike couldn't handle the deep sand, eventually.
Here's Will racing the waves. Handsome fella!
Then we saw the Cantonment at Fort Miles, which was placed there after Pearl Harbor. Those guns were nearer the shore up on towers.
Will was feeling poorly so we didn't get to do the cycling we would have liked. It was a cycling friendly place, that's for sure!
Going back through the pictures, there are some I wanted to post and never got around to, so that's what I'm doing now.
~~~~~~~
On a couple of mornings at the Live & Learn Conference, I managed to get up and exercise. The place has a gymnasium and a work out room, but the gym is mostly a basketball court, and the work out room was locked that early in the morning. It was okay, because there was a lovely porch on the building, with the gigantic Roman columns. I took my yoga mat over and did the Master Your Body routine, along with 100 jumping jacks and extra stretching. The sun was coming up to the east, over the mountain and across the great lawn in front of Lee Hall. Here's a picture of Lee Hall:
While doing ab-dogs, I noticed spider webs on the porch railings, and this really cool double one next to a column. The sun was shining through I just couldn't resist taking a picture of it.
Another instance where I was limited by the screen on my point-n-shoot digital camera. Not the best framing, but I still like the way the web looks.
~~~~~~~~~
A DIFFERENT DAY:
Will and I took a ride down to the ocean from our campsite at Cape Henlopen State Park near Lewes, Delaware. Even the mountain bike couldn't handle the deep sand, eventually.
Here's Will racing the waves. Handsome fella!
Then we saw the Cantonment at Fort Miles, which was placed there after Pearl Harbor. Those guns were nearer the shore up on towers.
Will was feeling poorly so we didn't get to do the cycling we would have liked. It was a cycling friendly place, that's for sure!
Monday, September 29, 2008
Big Dam Bridge 2008
Charles, Will and I did the Big Dam Bridge 100 in Little Rock on Saturday. (But we did the 50 miles.) Last year my average was 12, this year 14.5. I shaved about 30 minutes off my time--there is some discrepancy because they have a finish clock but of course it doesn't match up with my computer. It was under 4 hours, which was really great for me.
Charles did the 25 last year, so we were real proud of him for doing the 50. In two weeks at the Tour De Cure, he's planning on upping to the 75 if he still feels good at the turn. Will did the 50 with me last year, but bonked about 35 miles in, because he refused to eat at my urging. This year I was able to convince him to eat. The Carb Boom gels he had available helped, too. He did the last 20 miles by himself and beat us back by about 5-10 minutes!
I had a great speed there for a while. There wasn't much wind, and the terrain was rolling or flat, and I was able to hold around 18-20 all by myself, for at least a couple of miles (there was no one around, but someone did draft off me for a while and then when I slowed up a hill, passed me up and wouldn't pull, but congratulated me on my speed). I was forced to go fast because I was having trouble with the FD--couldn't get from the big to the middle ring unless I went all the way down to granny first. That, of course, cost me momentum which ticked me off, which made me mad enough to stay on the big ring up hill, even though I had to cross chain sometimes to do it.
Riding my heavier steel touring bike in Vermont for a week did make me stronger. I shift less because the barcons are less convenient. The gearing is lower to begin with so I don't go fast which means I ride longer. Getting on the lighter road bike with quicker shifting felt like taking off the ankle weights.
It was a really good ride. Can't wait until next year.
Charles did the 25 last year, so we were real proud of him for doing the 50. In two weeks at the Tour De Cure, he's planning on upping to the 75 if he still feels good at the turn. Will did the 50 with me last year, but bonked about 35 miles in, because he refused to eat at my urging. This year I was able to convince him to eat. The Carb Boom gels he had available helped, too. He did the last 20 miles by himself and beat us back by about 5-10 minutes!
I had a great speed there for a while. There wasn't much wind, and the terrain was rolling or flat, and I was able to hold around 18-20 all by myself, for at least a couple of miles (there was no one around, but someone did draft off me for a while and then when I slowed up a hill, passed me up and wouldn't pull, but congratulated me on my speed). I was forced to go fast because I was having trouble with the FD--couldn't get from the big to the middle ring unless I went all the way down to granny first. That, of course, cost me momentum which ticked me off, which made me mad enough to stay on the big ring up hill, even though I had to cross chain sometimes to do it.
Riding my heavier steel touring bike in Vermont for a week did make me stronger. I shift less because the barcons are less convenient. The gearing is lower to begin with so I don't go fast which means I ride longer. Getting on the lighter road bike with quicker shifting felt like taking off the ankle weights.
It was a really good ride. Can't wait until next year.
Saturday, September 20, 2008
From a Campground near Canada..
Today I drove upstate a little ways, to the Groton State Forest. It contains Lake Groton, and several ponds, and is located sort of between St. Johnsbury and Montpelier.
There is a rail trail that runs through the forest. Rail trails used to be railways. This particular one was decommissioned as a railway a long long time ago, because it was more dangerous than a new one that accomplished the same thing nearby. (That's what I gather from a website called crossvermont.org.)
Even though I had directions from Vermont Magazine that Heather had given me, as soon as I happened on the beginning of the rail trail, I parked and got on it. I could have followed the complicated directions in the magazine and ended up riding partly on highways, etc. But...I wasn't interested in traffic, and I didn't have any.
Although I knew the trail was gravel, I figured it would be pretty hard packed, like the Katy Trail in Missouri. Even though I loaded up both bikes just in case, I really wanted to ride the Centurion. It fits me better, still had the computer on it and the pedals, and it can handle gravel. I was wrong about the trail. It was sometimes soft Redfield-like sand, sometimes big boulders, sometimes lotsa rocks, all of which the mountain bike would have taken in stride. The Centurion did all right, though, thanks to my superior bike handling skills.
Seriously, though, I had no mishaps, but I did have to watch carefully for big boulders. You know the kind--the ones buried half way out of the ground in the middle of path and you don't see them in the dappled shade until you're giving it the death stare. You know the death stare--on a bike, anything you stare at you'll hit, no doubt. Sometimes that can mean certain death! That's why, especially when mountain biking (and on gravel roads) it's a good idea to look far ahead of your wheel and pick your line and DON'T DON'T DON'T look at that knob sticking up off that root, or that giant boulder buried in the path, or the goose-poop lying innocently in the middle of the bike path. The goose-poop will fly up on your leg and gross you to death.
No goose poop on this trip. I did take some pictures, though. Here's a slide show.
I read somewhere this week that it is moose mating season. I really really wanted to see a moose! Not too close, but you know, up there on the trail, passing across while I approach--like deer. I didn't see any, but I did see wild turkeys (they are hard to photograph), and quite a few butterflies, and I think I scared up some quail or something, but I never got a good look.
Apparently I also stumbled upon a vast network of snowmobile trails. (I think they call them snow machines, now, but that makes me think of ski slope grooming equipment, so I'll continue to call them snowmobiles, just like I still call "ATV's" 4-wheelers.) I came across a big sign with a map and the spidery snowmobile trails all over it. I tried to figure out where I was, but it didn't have roads so I couldn't orient myself. Along the trail, there were lots and lots of warnings about upcoming junctions and how to get back to Hwy 302 and speed limit 35. There was no danger of me going close to 35, though. I did get up to 15 at one point, then I realized how sad it would be to lose my teeth on one of those hidden boulders, so I slowed back down to around 10.
It was nice and flat, but gravel, so I had to be careful. I was alone for so long I started singing out loud. That got me to whistling. Whistling helps me get my breath back when I'm exerting myself. I do it when I'm singing and when I'm riding and when I'm at my exercise class. I've never considered whether that bothers anyone in class, but who cares? Some of them don't brush their teeth before they come at 6:00 a.m., and that bothers me!
So all that singing and whistling reminded me of all those hours and miles I spent on my bike in Conway when I lived there in high school. I rode my bike all over the place for hours on end. Singing and whistling and cruising around corners with no hands. The handlebar bag on my Centurion prohibits that--makes it unstable--but I can still ride for hundreds of yards and turn corners with no hands on my road bike and mountain bike like I was 15 again! I told you--superior bike handling skills!
But back to today--singing and whistling and COASTING. The rail trail was a false flat up on the way out. That means it wasn't really flat, but it looked that way. I was slowly climbing at maybe a 1% grade for about 5 miles. Then I crossed some kind of barrier and it was the same grade but in reverse, and I was able to coast and coast and coast. Not really fast, like on a real hill. Just enough gravity to make pedaling unnecessary, so long as you didn't mind going at gravity's pace. I didn't, because I was already whistling and singing. On the way back, I climbed for a few miles on the false flat in the other direction and then coasted part of the way after the barrier, and then I pedaled hard the rest of the way back, with gravity on my side.
Today, I came to know something that will forever be true, and always has been. My favorite part of cycling is coasting. All those miles in Conway when I was a teenager, and all those miles today. If I could just coast along with a whistle on my lips, I'd never get off the bike.
There is a rail trail that runs through the forest. Rail trails used to be railways. This particular one was decommissioned as a railway a long long time ago, because it was more dangerous than a new one that accomplished the same thing nearby. (That's what I gather from a website called crossvermont.org.)
Even though I had directions from Vermont Magazine that Heather had given me, as soon as I happened on the beginning of the rail trail, I parked and got on it. I could have followed the complicated directions in the magazine and ended up riding partly on highways, etc. But...I wasn't interested in traffic, and I didn't have any.
Although I knew the trail was gravel, I figured it would be pretty hard packed, like the Katy Trail in Missouri. Even though I loaded up both bikes just in case, I really wanted to ride the Centurion. It fits me better, still had the computer on it and the pedals, and it can handle gravel. I was wrong about the trail. It was sometimes soft Redfield-like sand, sometimes big boulders, sometimes lotsa rocks, all of which the mountain bike would have taken in stride. The Centurion did all right, though, thanks to my superior bike handling skills.
Seriously, though, I had no mishaps, but I did have to watch carefully for big boulders. You know the kind--the ones buried half way out of the ground in the middle of path and you don't see them in the dappled shade until you're giving it the death stare. You know the death stare--on a bike, anything you stare at you'll hit, no doubt. Sometimes that can mean certain death! That's why, especially when mountain biking (and on gravel roads) it's a good idea to look far ahead of your wheel and pick your line and DON'T DON'T DON'T look at that knob sticking up off that root, or that giant boulder buried in the path, or the goose-poop lying innocently in the middle of the bike path. The goose-poop will fly up on your leg and gross you to death.
No goose poop on this trip. I did take some pictures, though. Here's a slide show.
I read somewhere this week that it is moose mating season. I really really wanted to see a moose! Not too close, but you know, up there on the trail, passing across while I approach--like deer. I didn't see any, but I did see wild turkeys (they are hard to photograph), and quite a few butterflies, and I think I scared up some quail or something, but I never got a good look.
Apparently I also stumbled upon a vast network of snowmobile trails. (I think they call them snow machines, now, but that makes me think of ski slope grooming equipment, so I'll continue to call them snowmobiles, just like I still call "ATV's" 4-wheelers.) I came across a big sign with a map and the spidery snowmobile trails all over it. I tried to figure out where I was, but it didn't have roads so I couldn't orient myself. Along the trail, there were lots and lots of warnings about upcoming junctions and how to get back to Hwy 302 and speed limit 35. There was no danger of me going close to 35, though. I did get up to 15 at one point, then I realized how sad it would be to lose my teeth on one of those hidden boulders, so I slowed back down to around 10.
It was nice and flat, but gravel, so I had to be careful. I was alone for so long I started singing out loud. That got me to whistling. Whistling helps me get my breath back when I'm exerting myself. I do it when I'm singing and when I'm riding and when I'm at my exercise class. I've never considered whether that bothers anyone in class, but who cares? Some of them don't brush their teeth before they come at 6:00 a.m., and that bothers me!
So all that singing and whistling reminded me of all those hours and miles I spent on my bike in Conway when I lived there in high school. I rode my bike all over the place for hours on end. Singing and whistling and cruising around corners with no hands. The handlebar bag on my Centurion prohibits that--makes it unstable--but I can still ride for hundreds of yards and turn corners with no hands on my road bike and mountain bike like I was 15 again! I told you--superior bike handling skills!
But back to today--singing and whistling and COASTING. The rail trail was a false flat up on the way out. That means it wasn't really flat, but it looked that way. I was slowly climbing at maybe a 1% grade for about 5 miles. Then I crossed some kind of barrier and it was the same grade but in reverse, and I was able to coast and coast and coast. Not really fast, like on a real hill. Just enough gravity to make pedaling unnecessary, so long as you didn't mind going at gravity's pace. I didn't, because I was already whistling and singing. On the way back, I climbed for a few miles on the false flat in the other direction and then coasted part of the way after the barrier, and then I pedaled hard the rest of the way back, with gravity on my side.
Today, I came to know something that will forever be true, and always has been. My favorite part of cycling is coasting. All those miles in Conway when I was a teenager, and all those miles today. If I could just coast along with a whistle on my lips, I'd never get off the bike.
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