Readytoride
Well-Known Member
- Region
- USA
- City
- Virginia
The Arrival of the Autumn Equinox, Preparing the Fields for Winter, and Meeting a Touring Cyclist.
After yesterday's freezing bike ride, I vowed to be more prepared today with the even lower morning temps to make 32 miles a reality. Hence, warmer gloves, extra layers of clothing, etc. etc. Also it helped to leave at a later hour when the sun had a chance to warm things up a bit.
That second part wasn't quite by choice because, instead of being out riding, I was instead at my computer fighting with my recalcitrant Garmin Edge to upload a bike route I had designed last night. I normally just chose my routes on the fly, but this time I wanted to specifically hit the paved roads since I was on the Vado and not just willy-nilly take whatever directional road I happened to stumble across. And so I wanted the Edge to tell me my turn by turn. Except my Edge kept crossing its arms and refusing to acknowledge my upload. The entire process involved not only being forced to use outdated propriatory Garmin software, but also having to eject the GPS from the laptop each time I needed to check if the route would show up. Tedious and time consuming, especially as the route failed to show on the unit even as my laptop swore on a stack of bibles that it had uploaded, and even showed me it had. I spent a good 20 frustrating minutes trying to get both electronic devices to actually agree with one another, and was failing miserably. I was about to give up in very vocal frustration and just go ride when I abruptly remembered... I had written a set of instructions to myself last year on exactly what trick to use in order to upload to the Edge. And had pasted the said "how to" right on the desktop of the laptop. It was right at my finger tips the entire time, waiting for me to notice. I opened the document, followed my own instructions, and miracle of miracle, it worked. No fuss. Piece of cake. I was now ready to ride.
[Memo To Self To Read Instructions First next time. Got it.]
My route began by heading north on several "bike friendly" paved roads. Thankfully, in my area the rural scenery remains consistent and I noticed that more and more of the cultivated fields were in the process of being plowed to make way for the winter crops. Several massive farm tractors, with even more massive field impliments in tow, rumbled past me on the roads. Frankly, within the first few miles of my ride I saw more tractors than cars on the road. In the photo below a big tractor with a cultivator sits off to the edge of a plowed field, waiting for the farmer to return from whatever errands had taken him away.
It also seemed like the nice Fall weather had encouraged landowners to spruce up their road frontage because each and every estate had some member of their staff out on a mower or zero turn buzzcutting the turf to perfection. One estate had even gone the extra mile to have its stone walls rebuilt to engineering standards. The remarkable precision of the impeccably stacked stone simply awed me, especially as it carried itself for a full half mile without the slightest stone out of place. In contrast an old stone fence belonging to a different estate on the other side of the road had been left "au naturale", the stones lounging atop each other in a relaxed carefree fashion that suggested it may have been stacked neatly, once, a very very long time ago. Maybe a century ago. And honestly didn't care one iota it was being shown up by the military spit-and-polish line of stone across the road. To each its own, it seemed to imply. Still, I had to admire the neatly arrayed wall. The perfection was exquisite.
The roads soon left the rural estate area behind, wandering in a vaguely purposeful direction into more residentually developed areas, although still heavily horse county. At one point I was so busy checking out old haunts - old fields and woods where I used to foxhunt - that I forgot to pay attention to where I was aiming my bike and ran off the road onto the (fortunately neatly mowed) grassy shoulder. A brief moment of panic ensued before I managed to get back on the road with no harm done with the exception of a few more gray hairs being added to those already under the helmet. A few miles later I passed by a roadside "ditch" that could have swallowed a tractor trailer whole without pause into the stream bed below. The ditch was right against the edge of the road, so close that there wasn't even breathing space between the road itself and the plunge down to Middle Earth. It was an awesome drop, and fully warranted my respect, as well as a photo.
[Memo To Self to Remember to Watch The Road: duly noted]
A rainwashed flyer caught my eye further on. It was tacked to a telephone pole at an intersection of a gentle gravel road and my paved road. I stopped to take a drink and to read the paper notice. It was heartfelt, and as the paper was faded and worn from time and exposure, I could only hope by now that Remy, the beloved barn cat, had reappeared in his loud boisterous self back at his barn, much to the delight of the owners and boarders. I hoped that this notice has simply been forgotten about, and at some point someone will remember to take it down. I hoped.
[Memo To Self: Call to see if Remy made it back home. Will do.]
My route peaked at the small town of Lincoln, then switched direction to head south again, this time employing a gravel road to keep me well away from a very fast, very dangerous parallel paved road. I was content to meander at a reduced pace, enjoying the day, the warmth of the sun, and the changing landscapes drifting back from residential into more estate holdings. The mountains, which had been receding on the journey north, now started to dominate the landscape once again. They were always there whenever I lifted my eyes from the surrounding roadside views, and I smiled at how much they reminded me that home was never too far away.
By 20 miles my route returned me to more familiar roads, my roads, so perfect for cycling. So I wasn't surprised to see yet another cyclist out enjoying the quiet road, although at a decidedly slower pace. His touring panniers were an instant recognition of his intentions, and I snapped a quick shot of him before I cruised up to say hello. It isn't terribly often I see a touring cyclist on my road, but our rural byways are apparently becoming a preferred north-south route to eliminate the more highly trafficked highways just beyond.
And so this delightful 27 year old research scientist named Tom, who had left Ashburn (about 25 miles northeast) this morning on his trusty old Trek, taking the W&OD bike trail west with plans to ride Skyline Drive in the Shenandoah National Park (about 35 miles southwest), was now well on his way to eventually meeting up with his girlfriend sometime tomorrow in a town south of the national park. He had his hammock to sleep on tonight in a bit of stealth camping, and was just the sweetest kid ever. We rode the next 4 miles together (I had to ride really really REALLY slow just to stay with him and told him a few times to ride his own pace and I will match his, but NOT to try to ride at my speed), chatting away, then stopped and stood conversing for an additional half hour, thoroughly enjoying the repast. He was already an accomplished touring cyclist having done the Northern Tier (Washington State to Boston, Mass), a cycle tour of southern Australia, and hopes to soon do a ride across the southern US once the current pandemic fades to a less vicious mutation.
We had the best time exchanging stories, taking photos (I took a great shot of him using his phone which absolutely delighted him) talking touring, Warm Shower hosting, the pandemic, et al, but all too soon it was time to say our farewells. I wished him a safe journey and we waved goodbye as he turned south to head to Front Royal while I turned east to finish out the remaining 4 miles of my route. I hope he's doing OK tonight camping overnight as the entire western region of our area, including the national park, is under a freeze warning. [Edited to add: last night the temps dropped below freezing to bring on a heavy frost. Our fields were covered in a thick blanket of cold sparkling white this morning]
Back home I got a text from my friend 100 miles south of me. She had just finished a 30 mile ride and had the company (for the first 5 miles) of a friend and her husband on their brand new electric Trek bikes. She said they went at the blistering pace of 8 mph that entire 5 miles. [Laughing face and rolling eyes emojie] "Newbies!" She said. I texted back hoping they didn't get windburn.
Tomorrow is a gravel road ride day. A perfect way to celebrate the Autumn Equinox.
After yesterday's freezing bike ride, I vowed to be more prepared today with the even lower morning temps to make 32 miles a reality. Hence, warmer gloves, extra layers of clothing, etc. etc. Also it helped to leave at a later hour when the sun had a chance to warm things up a bit.
That second part wasn't quite by choice because, instead of being out riding, I was instead at my computer fighting with my recalcitrant Garmin Edge to upload a bike route I had designed last night. I normally just chose my routes on the fly, but this time I wanted to specifically hit the paved roads since I was on the Vado and not just willy-nilly take whatever directional road I happened to stumble across. And so I wanted the Edge to tell me my turn by turn. Except my Edge kept crossing its arms and refusing to acknowledge my upload. The entire process involved not only being forced to use outdated propriatory Garmin software, but also having to eject the GPS from the laptop each time I needed to check if the route would show up. Tedious and time consuming, especially as the route failed to show on the unit even as my laptop swore on a stack of bibles that it had uploaded, and even showed me it had. I spent a good 20 frustrating minutes trying to get both electronic devices to actually agree with one another, and was failing miserably. I was about to give up in very vocal frustration and just go ride when I abruptly remembered... I had written a set of instructions to myself last year on exactly what trick to use in order to upload to the Edge. And had pasted the said "how to" right on the desktop of the laptop. It was right at my finger tips the entire time, waiting for me to notice. I opened the document, followed my own instructions, and miracle of miracle, it worked. No fuss. Piece of cake. I was now ready to ride.
[Memo To Self To Read Instructions First next time. Got it.]
My route began by heading north on several "bike friendly" paved roads. Thankfully, in my area the rural scenery remains consistent and I noticed that more and more of the cultivated fields were in the process of being plowed to make way for the winter crops. Several massive farm tractors, with even more massive field impliments in tow, rumbled past me on the roads. Frankly, within the first few miles of my ride I saw more tractors than cars on the road. In the photo below a big tractor with a cultivator sits off to the edge of a plowed field, waiting for the farmer to return from whatever errands had taken him away.
It also seemed like the nice Fall weather had encouraged landowners to spruce up their road frontage because each and every estate had some member of their staff out on a mower or zero turn buzzcutting the turf to perfection. One estate had even gone the extra mile to have its stone walls rebuilt to engineering standards. The remarkable precision of the impeccably stacked stone simply awed me, especially as it carried itself for a full half mile without the slightest stone out of place. In contrast an old stone fence belonging to a different estate on the other side of the road had been left "au naturale", the stones lounging atop each other in a relaxed carefree fashion that suggested it may have been stacked neatly, once, a very very long time ago. Maybe a century ago. And honestly didn't care one iota it was being shown up by the military spit-and-polish line of stone across the road. To each its own, it seemed to imply. Still, I had to admire the neatly arrayed wall. The perfection was exquisite.
The roads soon left the rural estate area behind, wandering in a vaguely purposeful direction into more residentually developed areas, although still heavily horse county. At one point I was so busy checking out old haunts - old fields and woods where I used to foxhunt - that I forgot to pay attention to where I was aiming my bike and ran off the road onto the (fortunately neatly mowed) grassy shoulder. A brief moment of panic ensued before I managed to get back on the road with no harm done with the exception of a few more gray hairs being added to those already under the helmet. A few miles later I passed by a roadside "ditch" that could have swallowed a tractor trailer whole without pause into the stream bed below. The ditch was right against the edge of the road, so close that there wasn't even breathing space between the road itself and the plunge down to Middle Earth. It was an awesome drop, and fully warranted my respect, as well as a photo.
[Memo To Self to Remember to Watch The Road: duly noted]
A rainwashed flyer caught my eye further on. It was tacked to a telephone pole at an intersection of a gentle gravel road and my paved road. I stopped to take a drink and to read the paper notice. It was heartfelt, and as the paper was faded and worn from time and exposure, I could only hope by now that Remy, the beloved barn cat, had reappeared in his loud boisterous self back at his barn, much to the delight of the owners and boarders. I hoped that this notice has simply been forgotten about, and at some point someone will remember to take it down. I hoped.
[Memo To Self: Call to see if Remy made it back home. Will do.]
My route peaked at the small town of Lincoln, then switched direction to head south again, this time employing a gravel road to keep me well away from a very fast, very dangerous parallel paved road. I was content to meander at a reduced pace, enjoying the day, the warmth of the sun, and the changing landscapes drifting back from residential into more estate holdings. The mountains, which had been receding on the journey north, now started to dominate the landscape once again. They were always there whenever I lifted my eyes from the surrounding roadside views, and I smiled at how much they reminded me that home was never too far away.
By 20 miles my route returned me to more familiar roads, my roads, so perfect for cycling. So I wasn't surprised to see yet another cyclist out enjoying the quiet road, although at a decidedly slower pace. His touring panniers were an instant recognition of his intentions, and I snapped a quick shot of him before I cruised up to say hello. It isn't terribly often I see a touring cyclist on my road, but our rural byways are apparently becoming a preferred north-south route to eliminate the more highly trafficked highways just beyond.
And so this delightful 27 year old research scientist named Tom, who had left Ashburn (about 25 miles northeast) this morning on his trusty old Trek, taking the W&OD bike trail west with plans to ride Skyline Drive in the Shenandoah National Park (about 35 miles southwest), was now well on his way to eventually meeting up with his girlfriend sometime tomorrow in a town south of the national park. He had his hammock to sleep on tonight in a bit of stealth camping, and was just the sweetest kid ever. We rode the next 4 miles together (I had to ride really really REALLY slow just to stay with him and told him a few times to ride his own pace and I will match his, but NOT to try to ride at my speed), chatting away, then stopped and stood conversing for an additional half hour, thoroughly enjoying the repast. He was already an accomplished touring cyclist having done the Northern Tier (Washington State to Boston, Mass), a cycle tour of southern Australia, and hopes to soon do a ride across the southern US once the current pandemic fades to a less vicious mutation.
We had the best time exchanging stories, taking photos (I took a great shot of him using his phone which absolutely delighted him) talking touring, Warm Shower hosting, the pandemic, et al, but all too soon it was time to say our farewells. I wished him a safe journey and we waved goodbye as he turned south to head to Front Royal while I turned east to finish out the remaining 4 miles of my route. I hope he's doing OK tonight camping overnight as the entire western region of our area, including the national park, is under a freeze warning. [Edited to add: last night the temps dropped below freezing to bring on a heavy frost. Our fields were covered in a thick blanket of cold sparkling white this morning]
Back home I got a text from my friend 100 miles south of me. She had just finished a 30 mile ride and had the company (for the first 5 miles) of a friend and her husband on their brand new electric Trek bikes. She said they went at the blistering pace of 8 mph that entire 5 miles. [Laughing face and rolling eyes emojie] "Newbies!" She said. I texted back hoping they didn't get windburn.
Tomorrow is a gravel road ride day. A perfect way to celebrate the Autumn Equinox.
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