Just a smidge shy of 28 miles cycled yesterday towards the end of the waning afternoon.
The morning was spent gardening, putting up the newly made bluebird houses, and riding my mare 5 miles with a friend on her still green Thoroughbred. He had been a successful racehorse prior to her purchase of him last year, so she was moving slowly along to achieve a smooth and uneventful transition of him to a pleasure horse. Today was the first time ever that she would begin to trot him in open fields, not a ring. She was, understandably, nervous. My mare was his rock solid mentor, and happy to say we are: 1. Still alive; 2.remained in the saddle; 3. had a good ride with the Thoroughbed managing to hold himself mentally together at least 95% of the time, and 4. counting the outing as a success. I don't think my friend breathed at all until our ride ended. Small steps, big rewards.
I hadn't planned my bike ride for anything other than to enjoy what remained of a beautiful Springtime day. The gravel roads called to me for their peace and quiet since the paved roads had unexpectedly become inundated with trucks, both private and commercial. It would appear that every "essential business" within hailing distance was traveling by pickup truck or big dump trucks, while VDOT was accelerating their roadwork repair and service to take advantage of the public "stay at home" mandate. With virtually no cars on the road, the work crews could work with far less impedance.
Thus I found myself on the gravel roads with the option of taking whatever direction met my fancy. South sounded nice, and the prospect of less traffic on the Rt. 50 highway was appealing to skirt through Upperville and add a bit more miles to my back road adventure.
I rather like a big loop, so took the gravel road running north/south along the base of the Blue Ridge mountains, heading north until I hit Bluemont. Uneventful, exceptional quiet, and all mine. Not one vehicle passed me the entire 10 miles. I stopped when I saw this whimsical sign for not just fresh chicken eggs, but for "happy chicken" eggs. I promised myself I would come back to buy a dozen next time.
Out here in rural estate land cellular and Wi-Fi can be a bit "iffy". Hence, the need sometimes to help route signals via your own tower when your property calls for that boost. Some of the bigger estate have them as a matter of necessity to help staff keep in touch with each other via radio. Sure beats trying to find a hill and hollering across the landscape.
My view for the next 10 peaceful, reflective, colorful, engaging, dusty, wonderful miles.
By the time I hit Bluemont, it was decision time. Go further, or head home? Further was enticing, but home won simply because I had two horses in the barn and I know they had probably burned through all their hay by now and were standing leaning over their stall doors, watching out the barn doors for my return to serve them dinner. The other two were probably hanging over their pasture gates, keeping vigil as well.
The paved road seemed the best and quickest option to return, and I'm glad I chose that way otherwise I would have missed all the excitement a few miles down the road. My first clue should have been a deputy's car passing me, and then another. One would have been normal, but two in a row? Odd. It all made sudden sense once I crested the small hill in front of me to see a venerable marquee of flashing red and blue fire truck lights, combined with the flashing lights of several local law enforcement vehicles, spread over the entire road. Blocking both lanes of traffic.
Being the dutiful citizen I was, I stopped behind the sheriff's car in front of me...for exactly 10 seconds. It was silly to stand on the road on a bike when there was plenty of grassy shoulder available to me to slip by everyone. So I did so, ostensibly to stop and chat with a local who was standing watching whatever it was going on that commanded the attention of so many emergency vehicles. It also allowed me to be nosey. The gray haired gentleman looked resigned and stoic (which made me wonder why at first) but very politely told me that he had been attending a (controlled) brush fire burning in the field across the road, and a local deputy had stopped and motioned him to come over (for what purpose he didn't disclose but it was pretty obvious later on) and by the time he'd returned to his brush pile the fire had jumped from the brush pile into the nearby trees. (The "nearby trees" was the obvious part. Clearly why the deputy had called the guy over. Not supposed to burn brush near trees. It can cause a real fire. Like the one burning now. Hence the resignation and stoic look. All made perfect sense.)
I thanked the man, offered my condolences for his ruined day (which made him smile and shake his head ruefully), and moved my bike from the grassy shoulder back to the pavement, taking full advantage of the deputy standing in the road offering me free passage with a smile as he held up traffic to let me through.
Of course, after that, the rest of the ride home was completely uneventful, except for stopping a few times to return texts from friends since I can't cycle and reply at the same time. Once I reached home I rode straight to the barn rather than the house because I was met, while still coming up the driveway, with an exceptionally loud chorus of "where's dinner?" in equine-speak. (My mare was the first to see me while I was still out on the road, and she let the others know I was within ear-range.)
Everyone was fed and happily mulching down dinner by the time I walked in the house to announce I was home.
"I know" was the response from my Significant Other who was lounging on the couch, eyes on the TV, watching the news.
"Let me guess," I said. "Was it the dogs barking, or the horses yelling that clued you in?"
"Neither," he announced as he held his cell phone aloft, wiggling it in the air. "It was your tracking app. Saw the minute you arrived back."
I grinned, just as my friend 100 miles south of me texted to ask how the traffic had been on Rt. 50. We use the same app so she watched my ride as well. Big Brother is alive and well and watching my every move. And every bike ride, too. I don't mind, either. Not one bit.
Welcome to 1984, 2020 style.
Fastest speed: 29.6mph
Average speed: 14.4mph