2023 - Our Rides in Words, Photos, Maps and Videos

Looks great!

My rub is very similar, but I add Cayenne and 5 Spice (and perhaps a bit more salt).
Nice on Pork tenderloin too.
Nice touch with the five spice, Randall. I find that little hit of cinnamon adds a sweet woodsy flavor as well as a citrus note to the meat. Leaving the rub on overnight allows the pork to absorb all of the seasoning’s flavors.
 
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Some people in these parts grow more than corn, soybean, and cows. A nice cool ride this morning after many days of rain (which we needed).
Below the newly smoothed road to Rockville

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Back at my dads in Devon, decided on a ride down the country lanes to a few cute villages Ive never visited before.
This is Ringmore, about 5 miles from my dads.
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.
Its picture box cute and this 13th century pub, the Journeys end , is surrounded by beautiful thatched cottages.
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They are all actually owned by the wealthy middle classes of London and used as holiday or retirement homes.
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The plan was to ride to the coastal path from the village via these gorgeous bridleways and then ride along the cliffs to the next village.
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There were a few people on the trail sat on a bench, but instead of being all snobbish about my bike, they encouraged me to try the climb, it was insanely steep and this picture does it no justice.
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I made it quite easily, but had to use the full power of the bike, had the trail completely to myself, this is the South West coastal path and there is now a path pretty well around the entire British Isles coast.
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It climbs right along the edge over every cliff, doable on an ebike, but you'd have to pick the time of day in summer so as not to annoy the walkers and there is also no easy access to refreshments, its a two mile trek inland to tiny villages, often without even a local shop.
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The descent into this bay was pretty extreme, quite a scramble on foot and I dont have a seat dropper post, so after a few close calls I dismounted and sort of slid down.
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Rode inland through a very overgrown bridle path, as in just pushing and bushwhackin through 4ft high vegetation, to the village of Kingston.
This is the village fire station and there actually is a modern fire engine in there, though you get the feeling one of the locals just puts on a suitable hat off a shelf when theres a fire.
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The local pub, the Dolphin, no shop at all in the village, just a pub , run by a large bearded Scotsman wearing a kilt, who took my money and then served the next customer.
I waited English patiently, and eventually plucked up the courage to enquire where my drink and crisps/chips were.
Shorry Shir, Ive only joost woken up.
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Rode the most incredible singletrack path from there down to Wonwell beach.
It descended for a good mile, endless roots, drops, switchbacks and low branches, then popped me out onto road next to the beach.
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The beach is really just an Estuary, but can only be crossed via wading at low tide, the coastal path crosses it and you have to wade knee deep water, I came to try it on the bike, but got the timing wrong by a few hours, so I'll be back for the next instalment.

I flattened the battery in three hours, there are endless climbs up barely there roads, completely overgrown with grass and nettles nearly touching in the middle.
My kind of place.
 
Back at my dads in Devon, decided on a ride down the country lanes to a few cute villages Ive never visited before.
This is Ringmore, about 5 miles from my dads.
View attachment 156949.
Its picture box cute and this 13th century pub, the Journeys end , is surrounded by beautiful thatched cottages.
View attachment 156950

They are all actually owned by the wealthy middle classes of London and used as holiday or retirement homes.
View attachment 156951

The plan was to ride to the coastal path from the village via these gorgeous bridleways and then ride along the cliffs to the next village.
View attachment 156952

There were a few people on the trail sat on a bench, but instead of being all snobbish about my bike, they encouraged me to try the climb, it was insanely steep and this picture does it no justice.
View attachment 156953


I made it quite easily, but had to use the full power of the bike, had the trail completely to myself, this is the South West coastal path and there is now a path pretty well around the entire British Isles coast.
View attachment 156954


It climbs right along the edge over every cliff, doable on an ebike, but you'd have to pick the time of day in summer so as not to annoy the walkers and there is also no easy access to refreshments, its a two mile trek inland to tiny villages, often without even a local shop.
View attachment 156955

The descent into this bay was pretty extreme, quite a scramble on foot and I dont have a seat dropper post, so after a few close calls I dismounted and sort of slid down.
View attachment 156956


Rode inland through a very overgrown bridle path, as in just pushing and bushwhackin through 4ft high vegetation, to the village of Kingston.
This is the village fire station and there actually is a modern fire engine in there, though you get the feeling one of the locals just puts on a suitable hat off a shelf when theres a fire.
View attachment 156958

The local pub, the Dolphin, no shop at all in the village, just a pub , run by a large bearded Scotsman wearing a kilt, who took my money and then served the next customer.
I waited English patiently, and eventually plucked up the courage to enquire where my drink and crisps/chips were.
Shorry Shir, Ive only joost woken up.
View attachment 156959

Rode the most incredible singletrack path from there down to Wonwell beach.
It descended for a good mile, endless roots, drops, switchbacks and low branches, then popped me out onto road next to the beach.
View attachment 156961

The beach is really just an Estuary, but can only be crossed via wading at low tide, the coastal path crosses it and you have to wade knee deep water, I came to try it on the bike, but got the timing wrong by a few hours, so I'll be back for the next instalment.

I flattened the battery in three hours, there are endless climbs up barely there roads, completely overgrown with grass and nettles nearly touching in the middle.
My kind of place.
Just gorgeous. Everything from the quaint streets and shops of the seaside village to the view above the cliffs. My kind of place as well. 👍
 
Well, there'll be no cycling in my neck of the woods for the next few days. The smoke from the Canadian wildfires have blanketed the eastern seaboard and Midwest US once again.

My neighbor G and I had plans for a ride yesterday morning. The prior day had been an artist's dream: clear, bright, and sunny. I had ridden 21 paved road miles in sheer bliss of the astounding colors surrounding me - the vibrant green of the trees and grass, the breathcatching blue of the mountains themselves, and the eye popping colors of flowers everywhere, both wild sown or garden cultivated. Passing motorists all waved a cheerful hello back to my friendly waves, my contented and happy smile never leaving my face the entire ride. It was one of those rides where you simply take a deep breath and feel your heart swell with happiness. A perfectly perfect day to be out on a bike, enjoying everything that was right with the world.
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Along the way I passed a polo field, a vast lawn of several exquisitely groomed acres that generally sits quietly awaiting the once a week thunder of horses hooves and the cracking of fist sized wooden polo balls being whacked by teams of mallot wielding riders, all governed by an complexity of strict game rules, as they urge their polo ponies in bustling races up and down the field chasing that very important white polo ball. Today that field was in play, hosting in one corner a variety of large horse trailers, all with teams of beautifully groomed polo ponies tied and waiting patiently for their turn to race up and down the vast lawn of impeciably groomed grass in persuit of a little white ball.
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I paused in my ride to check out the herd of horse trailers to see if I spotted the one belonging to another neighbor of mine just two farms down the road. He's an avid polo player, and just a delightful person who is always happy to stop what he's doing to shoot the breeze with me. I didn't see his trailer, so called out to an official looking person standing at the edge of the playing field, intently scrutinizing his phone, asking who was playing and when the game was supposed to start. (You can just make him out in the picture above - he looks a bit like a post on the left) He looked up at me and called back that it was just local players, just as a polo player trotted past him onto the field. "It's starting now", he said, then added cheerfully, "You're welcome to stay and watch!" I smiled at the invitation and very seriously considered it for a few minutes. I love the game, and the spectators are always very social and engaging. But....I lacked the proper dress to spectate, and would have had to sit on the grass in lieu of not having packed a lawn chair with me on my bike, as well as any yummy tailgate, although I'm sure the other spectators would have been happy to allow me to take part in their delicious tables.

No, I might as well defer to next time, when I'm properly outfitted with an elegant hat, not a helmet, smart attire and not biking shirt and shorts, and employing my own table of smoked salmon and brie, and a comfy chair.

I watched for a few more minutes as the first chukker began and the little white ball got a good solid whack by one player to send it rolling down the field with a group of players jostling their horses into one another in their pursuit of the ball to be the next one to give it a whack with their swinging mallot. I finally sighed, still smiling, and continued on with my ride.

(I did mention the polo game to G later, and her eyes widened in delight. She enjoys the game every bit as much as I do. "Let's go next week", she gushed, in her mind already planning a yummy tailgate menu and what fancy hat to wear. I agreed. Next Tuesday we do polo and fancy hats and smoked salmon on crackers. Cycling the following day)

It was a beyond perfect day.

Then....

Yesterday came.

Overnight the wind shifted, and like the opening paragraph from a dystopian novel, wildfires a thousand miles away north commenced a death march of thick smoke towards us, blocking out the night sky and filling the lungs of every air breathing creature alive as it advanced south. By morning it had reached our mountain range, hovering over the summit in a fog of deathly white, eyeing the innocent, and totally unaware, blue sky over our countryside below. It was biding time for the assault, waiting until the sun peeked over the horizon to move in and leach every bit of color from our surroundings.

Not really taking into account the Code Orange ("unhealthy air") was rapidly developing into a Code Red ("really bad air, and we're not kidding that everyone needs to stay indoors with windows shut, folks!"). I had grabbed a mask to ride over to G's house ( a little over a mile down the road). In the few minutes it took to do so, the Blue Ridge Mountains just a few miles to our west dissolved into nothingness and the white smoke haze slithered into the valley, leaving just a trace of a faint outline of colorless trees against a matching white sky. My neighbor stepped outside to her bike waiting in her driveway, and we had a very brief conversation, through masks, that went like this:

G: "This air is really bad, and I can't cycle with a mask on. Let's not ride today".
Me: "Fine by me."
G: "Let's go sit by your pool instead." She turned at looked at the noisy renovation construction taking place on her house, workmen walking to and from carrying tools, hammers banging, and skill saws buzzing. "I need to get away from this noise."
Me: "Fine by me. See you in a few?"
G: "Rodger that."

My mask still in place I rode home, put the bike away, filled the ice bucket with frozen cubes, and set out the tea glasses and China plates on the wrought iron table in the screened-in canopy on the pool deck. A few minutes later G arrived carrying a basket packed with goat cheese, smoked salmon, Pierrier, assorted crackers, and spicy chutney.

And we spent the next two hours lounging in our chairs, poolside, in the Code Red breeze (which was delightfully cool, by the way, with not a fly or bug to be seen), enjoying some delicious food and several lively rounds of gossip as my collie stretched out at our feet, snoozing away.

All the while the world around us continued to dissolve into a white film of nothingness.
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And today: (We are the blue dot)
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I understand New York City was really, really bad. And Lexington Kentucky was the pits of hell, virtually unbreathable.

Cleveland yesterday, and what it looked like before the smoke apocalypse:

p24v4eu2rs8b1.jpg


From the looks of it, based on the smoke forecast, I may have to wait until next week before I can ride. Or breathe without a mask.
 
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Well, there'll be no cycling in my neck of the woods for the next few days. The smoke from the Canadian wildfires have blanketed the eastern seaboard and Midwest US once again.

My neighbor G and I had plans for a ride yesterday morning. The prior day had been an artist's dream: clear, bright, and sunny. I had ridden 21 paved road miles in sheer bliss of the astounding colors surrounding me - the vibrant green of the trees and grass, the breathcatching blue of the mountains themselves, and the eye popping colors of flowers everywhere, both wild sown or garden cultivated. Passing motorists all waved a cheerful hello back to my friendly waves, my contented and happy smile never leaving my face the entire ride. It was one of those rides where you simply take a deep breath and feel your heart swell with happiness. A perfectly perfect day to be out on a bike, enjoying everything that was right with the world.
View attachment 157000
Along the way I passed a polo field, a vast lawn of several exquisitely groomed acres that generally sits quietly awaiting the once a week thunder of horses hooves and the cracking of fist sized wooden polo balls being whacked by teams of mallot wielding riders, all governed by an complexity of strict game rules, as they urge their polo ponies in bustling races up and down the field chasing that very important white polo ball. Today that field was in play, hosting in one corner a variety of large horse trailers, all with teams of beautifully groomed polo ponies tied and waiting patiently for their turn to race up and down the vast lawn of impeciably groomed grass in persuit of a little white ball.
View attachment 157001
View attachment 157002
View attachment 157003
I paused in my ride to check out the herd of horse trailers to see if I spotted the one belonging to another neighbor of mine just two farms down the road. He's an avid polo player, and just a delightful person who is always happy to stop what he's doing to shoot the breeze with me. I didn't see his trailer, so called out to an official looking person standing at the edge of the playing field, intently scrutinizing his phone, asking who was playing and when the game was supposed to start. (You can just make him out in the picture above - he looks a bit like a post on the left) He looked up at me and called back that it was just local players, just as a polo player trotted past him onto the field. "It's starting now", he said, then added cheerfully, "You're welcome to stay and watch!" I smiled at the invitation and very seriously considered it for a few minutes. I love the game, and the spectators are always very social and engaging. But....I lacked the proper dress to spectate, and would have had to sit on the grass in lieu of not having packed a lawn chair with me on my bike, as well as any yummy tailgate, although I'm sure the other spectators would have been happy to allow me to take part in their delicious tables.

No, I might as well defer to next time, when I'm properly outfitted with an elegant hat, not a helmet, smart attire and not biking shirt and shorts, and employing my own table of smoked salmon and brie, and a comfy chair.

I watched for a few more minutes as the first chukker began and the little white ball got a good solid whack by one player to send it rolling down the field with a group of players jostling their horses into one another in their pursuit of the ball to be the next one to give it a whack with their swinging mallot. I finally sighed, still smiling, and continued on with my ride.

(I did mention the polo game to G later, and her eyes widened in delight. She enjoys the game every bit as much as I do. "Let's go next week", she gushed, in her mind already planning a yummy tailgate menu and what fancy hat to wear. I agreed. Next Tuesday we do polo and fancy hats and smoked salmon on crackers. Cycling the following day)

It was a beyond perfect day.

Then....

Yesterday came.

Overnight the wind shifted, and like the opening paragraph from a dystopian novel, wildfires a thousand miles away north commenced a death march of thick smoke towards us, blocking out the night sky and filling the lungs of every air breathing creature alive as it advanced south. By morning it had reached our mountain range, hovering over the summit in a fog of deathly white, eyeing the innocent, and totally unaware, blue sky over our countryside below. It was biding time for the assault, waiting until the sun peeked over the horizon to move in and leach every bit of color from our surroundings.

Not really taking into account the Code Orange ("unhealthy air") was rapidly developing into a Code Red ("really bad air, and we're not kidding that everyone needs to stay indoors with windows shut, folks!"). I had grabbed a mask to ride over to G's house ( a little over a mile down the road). In the few minutes it took to do so, the Blue Ridge Mountains just a few miles to our west dissolved into nothingness and the white smoke haze slithered into the valley, leaving just a trace of a faint outline of colorless trees against a matching white sky. My neighbor stepped outside to her bike waiting in her driveway, and we had a very brief conversation, through masks, that went like this:

G: "This air is really bad, and I can't cycle with a mask on. Let's not ride today".
Me: "Fine by me."
G: "Let's go sit by your pool instead." She turned at looked at the noisy renovation construction taking place on her house, workmen walking to and from carrying tools, hammers banging, and skill saws buzzing. "I need to get away from this noise."
Me: "Fine by me. See you in a few?"
G: "Rodger that."

My mask still in place I rode home, put the bike away, filled the ice bucket with frozen cubes, and set out the tea glasses and China plates on the wrought iron table in the screened-in canopy on the pool deck. A few minutes later G arrived carrying a basket packed with goat cheese, smoked salmon, Pierrier, assorted crackers, and spicy chutney.

And we spent the next two hours lounging in our chairs, poolside, in the Code Red breeze (which was delightfully cool, by the way, with not a fly or bug to be seen), enjoying some delicious food and several lively rounds of gossip as my collie stretched out at our feet, snoozing away.

All the while the world around us continued to dissolve into a white film of nothingness.
View attachment 156999
And today: (We are the blue dot)
View attachment 157005

I understand New York City was really, really bad. And Lexington Kentucky was the pits of hell, virtually unbreathable.

Cleveland yesterday, and what it looked like before the smoke apocalypse:

View attachment 157004

From the looks of it, based on the smoke forecast, I may have to wait until next week before I can ride. Or breathe without a mask.
I hate to hit like on that post, but you and your friend handled the situation well. Flexibility matters.
 
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Another Thursday, yet another big ride! After last weeks epic ride I was hoping to get out for a shorter recovery ride during the week but the weather hasn't been playing ball so with a decent forecast today I decided to do another long one! I set off at 5am to avoid the morning traffic, the roads were nice and quiet so I was in my happy place! Thankfully our temps are back to normal, a lovely 18C today which was very refreshing and a light westerly wind which was due to strengthen as the day progressed! So I headed NW with the turning point set for the Dukes Pass in the beautiful Trossachs area of Scotland, it was a little chilly when I set off so I decided to head over the Campsie Hills to warm me up! It worked a treat and I then had the lovely descent to look forward to, I was sufficiently warm as I started the descent and I was now heading for Killearn!

Looking back at the Campsies!

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I haven't used the road to Killearn for a few years as it wasn't in the best condition, at least the start of the road was in good condition now! Would that continue though? A couple of miles on and it was still pretty good and I stopped for a different view of the Campsies!

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I was nearing Fintry and the road had started to deteriorate, they hadn't touched it in all those years apart from a few patches here and there...I used to ride my motorbike along this road regularly but stopped a few years ago due to the condition of the road and it still hadn't been resurfaced! At least on the e bike its easier to avoid the holes due to a much lower speed so I weaved my way to Killearn and enjoyed the descent down to the A81, thankfully the road was in good condition down the descent so I really enjoyed that one! I joined the main A81 north to Aberfoyle and it was still quiet due to the early hour, as soon as you reach Aberfoyle its straight into the big climb up over the Dukes Pass and as I had just swapped my first battery at 43 miles I cranked the assist up to level 3 for the steep part and flew up the climb!

The view of the Trossachs mountain range from near the top of the climb!

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Loch Drunkie down below!

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This was looking east but to the west the dark clouds were threatening to bring rain, soon it started to spit but thankfully it wasn't even enough to dampen the roads and I could enjoy the descent down the other side to Loch Achray!

Looking across the loch to Tigh Mor holiday apartments which actually looks like a castle! https://www.hpb.co.uk/property-portfolio/tigh-mor-trossachs/details

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The road actually follows the loch and it was starting to spit with rain again but nothing too bad, this is looking east!

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It was nearing 9am now but the road was still quiet here, our schools finished yesterday so the holiday season is almost upon us and these roads will become much busier, especially if the weather improves!

This is a couple miles further looking back at Loch Venachar!

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Thankfully this road is in really nice condition and is a real joy to ride!

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Soon I was joining the main A84 towards Callander and I was expecting it to get busy here, it turned out to be ok with a few cars and trucks passing safely! As soon as I reached Callander I turned south to the quieter roads again with a big climb coming on the road to Thornhill, of course I stopped on the bridge in the centre of the town to grab a photo of the River Teith with Ben Ledi shrouded in cloud in the background!

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I reached Thornhill where I found the road to Kippen closed so I had no choice but to turn east towards the City of Stirling, at least it included some nice roads on the way! The best part was the strengthening wind was now at my back and pushing me along nicely!

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Luckily I know the city well and I avoided the worst of the traffic and was soon on the quieter road to Airth which then leads to Grangemouth, where it would be busier but I took to the cycle paths here which were deserted and passed over the River Carron!

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The road then leads to Falkirk where the big climbs would start again, once again I chose the quiet back roads and enjoyed having them almost completely to myself! I took the big climb up to Shieldhill where I had a nice view of the Ochill Hills to the north from near the top of the climb!

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This is looking south up the remainder of the steep climb, its a nice little descent first though!

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I was now at the top of the climb and needed a short break to get my breath back...this is looking north again! Its much more fun going the other way but thats for another day! ;)

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I was feeling strong so I decided to go for yet more climbing up to Heights, I love this view at the top of the climb and the weather was very nice here!

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I enjoyed the big descent down into Blackridge and from here it was a straight road home now directly into the wind, I had switched to my 3rd battery at 92 miles so had lots of juice left to take on the 25mph headwind! I soon arrived home and was greeted with another rain shower which didn't dampen my spirits after a brilliant day on the bike!:D It was good to get home without an aching backside this time, that really spoiled last weeks ride and I made sure there wouldn't be a repeat! Only 7 rides this month but it was my best month distance wise for the year with 637 miles covered, an avearge of 91 miles due to 3 imperial centuries! This takes me back to 2012 when I was doing an imperial century almost every weekend!

@Readytoride Like Art I was reluctant to like your post due to the awful conditions from the Canadian wildfires!:( but I just loved reading your account of the day so I just had to! I hope things improve soon and you can enjoy the summer before things go downhill again!
 

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Great photos, @Readytoride . Nice exposures.

Last week I was camping in northern lower Michigan, and one morning I rode the Little Traverse Wheelway between Charlevoix and Petoskey.

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The path was closed near Petoskey's Magnus Park, so this was my turnaround spot.

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This wooden bridge is more than 1/2 mile (.8 km) long.

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I rode the trail about 25 miles. It was a great day for a ride, and the fire smoke hadn't gotten bad yet (later in the day it did).

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@Readytoride Like Art I was reluctant to like your post due to the awful conditions from the Canadian wildfires!:( but I just loved reading your account of the day so I just had to! I hope things improve soon and you can enjoy the summer before things go downhill again!
Thank you. 💗 We have been promised by the national corps of meteorologists that our skies will clear just in time for our humid friend July to wander onto the scene with a cold beer in one hand and a beach towel in the other, and take up one of the pool lounges to "staycation" for the month. July and I will watch the Tour de France together, just like we do every year.

And thank you, once again, for so graciously and eloquently taking us along on yet another of your wonderful rides through your gorgeous part of Scotland where one can actually SEE the stunning vistas! It was delightful, and I'm about to go back and trace your map with my finger to pinpoint all the scenic spots you highlighted along the way! Looking out my picture window now I'm lucky to even see a foggy representation of my retired pony grazing in his field just beyond the back yard. Think "London fog" planted firmly in the Virginia countryside. That's us.🌫
 
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Well, there'll be no cycling in my neck of the woods for the next few days. The smoke from the Canadian wildfires have blanketed the eastern seaboard and Midwest US once again.

My neighbor G and I had plans for a ride yesterday morning. The prior day had been an artist's dream: clear, bright, and sunny. I had ridden 21 paved road miles in sheer bliss of the astounding colors surrounding me - the vibrant green of the trees and grass, the breathcatching blue of the mountains themselves, and the eye popping colors of flowers everywhere, both wild sown or garden cultivated. Passing motorists all waved a cheerful hello back to my friendly waves, my contented and happy smile never leaving my face the entire ride. It was one of those rides where you simply take a deep breath and feel your heart swell with happiness. A perfectly perfect day to be out on a bike, enjoying everything that was right with the world.
View attachment 157000
Along the way I passed a polo field, a vast lawn of several exquisitely groomed acres that generally sits quietly awaiting the once a week thunder of horses hooves and the cracking of fist sized wooden polo balls being whacked by teams of mallot wielding riders, all governed by an complexity of strict game rules, as they urge their polo ponies in bustling races up and down the field chasing that very important white polo ball. Today that field was in play, hosting in one corner a variety of large horse trailers, all with teams of beautifully groomed polo ponies tied and waiting patiently for their turn to race up and down the vast lawn of impeciably groomed grass in persuit of a little white ball.
View attachment 157001
View attachment 157002
View attachment 157003
I paused in my ride to check out the herd of horse trailers to see if I spotted the one belonging to another neighbor of mine just two farms down the road. He's an avid polo player, and just a delightful person who is always happy to stop what he's doing to shoot the breeze with me. I didn't see his trailer, so called out to an official looking person standing at the edge of the playing field, intently scrutinizing his phone, asking who was playing and when the game was supposed to start. (You can just make him out in the picture above - he looks a bit like a post on the left) He looked up at me and called back that it was just local players, just as a polo player trotted past him onto the field. "It's starting now", he said, then added cheerfully, "You're welcome to stay and watch!" I smiled at the invitation and very seriously considered it for a few minutes. I love the game, and the spectators are always very social and engaging. But....I lacked the proper dress to spectate, and would have had to sit on the grass in lieu of not having packed a lawn chair with me on my bike, as well as any yummy tailgate, although I'm sure the other spectators would have been happy to allow me to take part in their delicious tables.

No, I might as well defer to next time, when I'm properly outfitted with an elegant hat, not a helmet, smart attire and not biking shirt and shorts, and employing my own table of smoked salmon and brie, and a comfy chair.

I watched for a few more minutes as the first chukker began and the little white ball got a good solid whack by one player to send it rolling down the field with a group of players jostling their horses into one another in their pursuit of the ball to be the next one to give it a whack with their swinging mallot. I finally sighed, still smiling, and continued on with my ride.

(I did mention the polo game to G later, and her eyes widened in delight. She enjoys the game every bit as much as I do. "Let's go next week", she gushed, in her mind already planning a yummy tailgate menu and what fancy hat to wear. I agreed. Next Tuesday we do polo and fancy hats and smoked salmon on crackers. Cycling the following day)

It was a beyond perfect day.

Then....

Yesterday came.

Overnight the wind shifted, and like the opening paragraph from a dystopian novel, wildfires a thousand miles away north commenced a death march of thick smoke towards us, blocking out the night sky and filling the lungs of every air breathing creature alive as it advanced south. By morning it had reached our mountain range, hovering over the summit in a fog of deathly white, eyeing the innocent, and totally unaware, blue sky over our countryside below. It was biding time for the assault, waiting until the sun peeked over the horizon to move in and leach every bit of color from our surroundings.

Not really taking into account the Code Orange ("unhealthy air") was rapidly developing into a Code Red ("really bad air, and we're not kidding that everyone needs to stay indoors with windows shut, folks!"). I had grabbed a mask to ride over to G's house ( a little over a mile down the road). In the few minutes it took to do so, the Blue Ridge Mountains just a few miles to our west dissolved into nothingness and the white smoke haze slithered into the valley, leaving just a trace of a faint outline of colorless trees against a matching white sky. My neighbor stepped outside to her bike waiting in her driveway, and we had a very brief conversation, through masks, that went like this:

G: "This air is really bad, and I can't cycle with a mask on. Let's not ride today".
Me: "Fine by me."
G: "Let's go sit by your pool instead." She turned at looked at the noisy renovation construction taking place on her house, workmen walking to and from carrying tools, hammers banging, and skill saws buzzing. "I need to get away from this noise."
Me: "Fine by me. See you in a few?"
G: "Rodger that."

My mask still in place I rode home, put the bike away, filled the ice bucket with frozen cubes, and set out the tea glasses and China plates on the wrought iron table in the screened-in canopy on the pool deck. A few minutes later G arrived carrying a basket packed with goat cheese, smoked salmon, Pierrier, assorted crackers, and spicy chutney.

And we spent the next two hours lounging in our chairs, poolside, in the Code Red breeze (which was delightfully cool, by the way, with not a fly or bug to be seen), enjoying some delicious food and several lively rounds of gossip as my collie stretched out at our feet, snoozing away.

All the while the world around us continued to dissolve into a white film of nothingness.
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And today: (We are the blue dot)
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I understand New York City was really, really bad. And Lexington Kentucky was the pits of hell, virtually unbreathable.

Cleveland yesterday, and what it looked like before the smoke apocalypse:

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From the looks of it, based on the smoke forecast, I may have to wait until next week before I can ride. Or breathe without a mask.
Cleveland... My poor little home town... Family in the area is really suffering today!
 
How long have you been riding that pole dancer? Is she good in bed? (That'll teach you about leaning your scooter against a pole for a photo...) :p
She was good enough to take me to the Riders Zone Specialized Płock 😊 Why should I need a pole when the scooter is equipped with a double kickstand? 🤣
 
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