Gray November Triptych

November 7, 2015

Dour November rides, the foliage fallen from the trees, the harsh news from Paris a grim reminder of mortality and chance.

I might get hit by a car on my next ride. I cannot predict that everything will go well. These days, Western culture under attack from the long subjugated inheritors of colonialism, despotism, and fundamentalism, what can I do but carry on?

Like today, Sunday, November 15, 2015, winter not yet come with vengeance to the Woo, not even a hard freeze yet. The Reservoir road, the swirling wind, the blowing leaves, the denuded trees, the fading light. Or like November 7, the ride from Lemonstar to the Woo, traversing long familiar roads, a grayed acknowledgement of loss, the sun wan in the sky.

We cannot live anywhere but where we live.

I rode to the mountain top on Saturday, November 7th.

Climbing toward the summit

Summit

Tower of Shad

Monadnock to the north

Yesterday, grim wind and gray sky, harsh brown leaves swirling in the surreptitious moil. The Reservoir face an angry ripple of white caps and disapproval. Comfort has waned. Nothing staunches the moment like the loss of season.

Holden Reservoir November 14, 2015

Today I ventured into new terrain on the road bike. From Harris Rd I continued beyond the point at which the road was marked 'closed.' Closed years ago, never kept up, a crumbling pavement path through the woods toward the Quinapoxet River and the Wachusett Reservoir.

Road closed, November 15, 2015

I'd been here before, years ago, and was here now again, and grateful for the recently-added high end 4x season Continental road tires, the surface was cracked and strewn with debris but I didn't fear a flat.

Looking behind

Looking forward

The great challenge posed by road cycling is to be ever alert and ever in the quickly-changing moment, completely aware at all times; a breath-to-breath, pedal-to-pedal stroke forward, fully deliberate. In a weird way, this is actually relaxing; the only thing I as a cyclist need to be concerned with is my immediate moment. No baggage, nothing making fraught the struggle, just the road ahead, every rolling wheel circle a victory.

The yawning maw of expanse

Black Shroud

This morning we are sad for Paris.  The black shroud of war has fallen across the great city.

Three Beautiful Days, But a Grim Discovery on Halloween

These days are not supposed to be this nice - mid 60s, sunny, clear. The last vestiges of bright foliage have been bathed in rich, late afternoon sun day in and day out. Terrific rides, albeit now becoming abbreviated, certainly the midweek afternoon rides; last weekend brought the end of Daylight Savings time.

Thursday the 29th, Almost 70 Degrees

Reservoir Road

The view from the repaired bridge on Reservoir Rd

Climbing up South Rd

Back in the Woo

Return of Dubstoevsky

Halloween Day, and the Grim Discovery

Halloween Saturday was bright and clear, also warm, I headed out for a brisk Reservoir Loop. All was fine and irie as I made my way out of the neighborhood environs.

Pleasant St, Halloween 2015

I sped through Tatnuck to Olean St and, feeling good, kept a steady pace on the run up to, and then around, Holden Reservoir. Then I came upon a macabre scene, a pheasant massacre. A pile of ring-necked pheasants dumped in the pine needles along the side of the road.

Massacre of the innocent

The work of some moron hunter, no doubt. It made me sad to see such waste. My father hunted and I grew up eating roast pheasant (wrapped in bacon!). We ate everything he shot - pheasant, woodcock, grouse, rabbits. So seeing this atrocity saddened me greatly.

I rode on and then not much later came across another wretched death scene, this one no doubt the work of automobiles.

Grim road kill site

Tuesday, November 3

The sun sets now at 4:29 pm so the window of riding opportunity is narrow for post-work riding. Nevertheless, I was able to get away in time this afternoon and managed another Reservoir run, this one thankfully devoid of discarded carcasses. Another warm day, again almost 70 degrees.

Shadman and the Golden Shadows