Mulezen
Well-Known Member
My Trek Allant has stayed local since I got it in mid-May courtesy of the 'pest' (Stefan's word) rampaging throughout the country. I suppose I could transport to somewhere like the Governors' trail along the James to Williamsburg but the country roads are more interesting to me. So I launch from my dead-end road then turn either left or right, simple as that. But as my condition has improved life gets more complicated the further I go. I think of this as my 'Garden of Forking Paths' (Borges). Lately I've been flirting with the unknown like this ride earlier in the week.
Here I took the spur of Octagon road I'd never driven/ridden on. Last year I appropriated the name for use in a novel I'm struggling with. I've also picked up a few names from local graveyards. BTW I've ridden the length of the road now and still no Octagon church.
Owens Creek was a slick first rater with little traffic. But I was soon off and down a shady Holly Grove that got real shady fast. Soon I stopped on the narrow road to get a picture of a barn I could just see through the kudzu and poison ivy. I left my bike on the other side of the road, looked up and into a yard with two flag poles including one with the Confederate battlefield lying limp against its pole. I thought about a picture but didn't want to go into the yard so off across the road I went with my camera. Just as I was taking a picture a car came out of the yard behind me, pulled up. I greeted the man and I assume his wife, both middle-aged, with a smile that was not returned. "That's a pretty barn" I said. "It yours?" "No...but this here is my father-in-laws and we look after it." I kept smiling refusing to give them the weight of my tongue. "People steal and we worry." I did not mention that my bike was worth more than their old Hyundai. "Well I don't think I can carry off much on this bike." "You'd be surprised."
How do people get like this I asked myself. The answer was a hundred yards down the road.
Further along things brightened up
Galloway cattle and thick gardens
Here I took the spur of Octagon road I'd never driven/ridden on. Last year I appropriated the name for use in a novel I'm struggling with. I've also picked up a few names from local graveyards. BTW I've ridden the length of the road now and still no Octagon church.
Owens Creek was a slick first rater with little traffic. But I was soon off and down a shady Holly Grove that got real shady fast. Soon I stopped on the narrow road to get a picture of a barn I could just see through the kudzu and poison ivy. I left my bike on the other side of the road, looked up and into a yard with two flag poles including one with the Confederate battlefield lying limp against its pole. I thought about a picture but didn't want to go into the yard so off across the road I went with my camera. Just as I was taking a picture a car came out of the yard behind me, pulled up. I greeted the man and I assume his wife, both middle-aged, with a smile that was not returned. "That's a pretty barn" I said. "It yours?" "No...but this here is my father-in-laws and we look after it." I kept smiling refusing to give them the weight of my tongue. "People steal and we worry." I did not mention that my bike was worth more than their old Hyundai. "Well I don't think I can carry off much on this bike." "You'd be surprised."
How do people get like this I asked myself. The answer was a hundred yards down the road.
Further along things brightened up
Galloway cattle and thick gardens