As we walked home from the gym on Saturday, enjoying the incredible Colorado Indian Summer weather, we discussed whether we should work in the garden or do something else, in the afternoon. Vickie said, “Maybe you should go for a bike ride, the weather is absolutely gorgeous.” It was an exceptionally beautiful day and I began to consider whether my legs were up for it, after just hammering them at the gym. By the time we arrived at the cottage, I’d decided that some “dirt” time would indeed be the perfect way to enjoy the weather. I retrieved Double Cross from the bike barn, aired up her tires and lubed her chain.
I headed for the edge of town and the dirt roads beyond and on the way I pedaled past the football field where the Tigers were preparing to do battle with the boys from La Veta, Colorado. It’s the first playoff game for the #6 seed Tigers and they didn’t waste any time letting #11 seed La Veta know who was in charge. Vickie went to the game and told me later the final score was 64 – 18. The next game pit’s them against #3 seed Granada, so they’ll be heading there with plenty of momentum.
Ready to Ride
At the edge of town where the road’s still paved, there’s a series of three short, steep hills that are always a good test, to determine what kind of shape my old-man legs are in, before getting out on the dirt. I hit them hard, out of the saddle on all the climbs and by time I slammed into the washboarded gravel at the bottom of the final hill, I was already calculating how far I could ride, at least without too much pain and suffering.
I came across a small snake a short distance later but didn’t feel like stopping to determine the make and model. I reckon it was enjoying the unseasonably warm weather too. A few miles down the road at a pond, two large raptors lifted off and I was thinking eagles, which is definitely possible but not likely. I thought about trying to get a picture with the phone but even a large bird in a really large sky, shot with a tiny phone shows up as a barely discernible dot on a big blue background.
So, I left the phone in the pocket and watched them fly higher in the sky, attempting to see any other markings that might give me a clue. I really need to put the binoculars in the bike bag. I think they might have been Ferruginous Hawks, which can be nearly as large as an eagle and they look similar, at least from a distance. The more I pedaled the better my legs felt and I began adjusting my calculations.
“If a bird believes it is an eagle long enough, it will eventually end up soaring like one.” ~ Matshona Dhliwayo
Into The Wind
I turned the corner and began pedaling into the wind. According to the National Weather Service, it would’ve been classified as a Gentle Breeze. They have a handy little chart with Beaufort Scale numbers, wind speed and visual clues. I’ve sort of developed my own visual clues over the years. If the windmill blades are spinning, it’s at least a Gentle Breeze. If the tumbleweeds are rolling, we’re at #4 or 5, Moderate or Fresh Breeze. Above that and I’m probably inside listening to the wind whistle through the eaves.
Not many zeros and ones in our neighborhood and twos aren’t that common either. I suppose that’s why they built a giant windmill farm out there on the ridge. I planned the route predominantly E-W to keep the wind out of my face, so the short run into the headwind was okay. Even though it was a beautiful Indian Summer day, the temperature was still in the 60’s and into the Gentle Breeze (3), it felt pretty cool. It was only for a couple miles though and then I was riding East, sunshine on my shoulder.
Curb Your Enthusiasm
At the next intersection I had to make a decision. Turn right and head back towards town with the wind at my back or turn left back into the headwind and away from town. I turned left and headed into the Gentle to Moderate breeze. The thought was loop around the Old Wells for total of around 25 miles but as I was heading that way the rear tire went soft and I had to stop and fix a flat. It was a slow leak and I couldn’t find it, so I just replaced the tube. The box made a nice plate for a little picnic, in the dirt.
The flat tire curbed my enthusiasm for a longer ride, so at the next intersection I made a right turn and rode the wind back to town. It was close to 21 miles by the time I put Double Cross back in the bike barn. Most of the crops are out of the fields now and even though it was another amazing Colorado Indian Summer day, I can see Old Man Winter out there on the horizon, ready to swoop in, bringing cold, wind, snow and frozen windshields with him.