Lost in October

"September is my favourite  month,

particularly in Cornwall.  I felt, even

as a child, that if you get a wonderful day in

September, you think: This could be one

of the last.  The summer is nearly over.

When you get a wonderful day in May, you

think: So, there's more coming."

Tim Rice 

 

It is not September here in Indiana, but October, but the feelings of Mr. Rice hold true.  Today the sun is shining and it is warm enough that shortly I will be riding in  just a sports bra, jersey, shorts, light head covering, and gloves.  The blue of the sky is exquisite and the sun bright.  But tomorrow could be different.  What has been give can easily be taken away.  I head out on the Surly looking for some gravel despite the drought and the dust I know will be waiting.  

 

I am unsure why I pick the Surly, but it allows me more freedom to explore with its wider tires and ability to take some gravel.  I don't care for the thick, large gravel, but more because of the stress on older joints than the fear I used to have of falling.  With gravel, I have found that the words of Steve Rice hold true.  It is better and easier to go faster throwing caution to the wind.  So when I reach Wascum Road, I put my weight on the back tires, loosen my grip on the handlebars, and pedal as hard as I can while still being comfortable and not going anaerobic.   

I reach the point where I had to turn around the other day and think how glad I am to have this entire day to play with:  no other place to be and nothing that presses to be done.  Time is, indeed, a gift.  And the bicycle and lovely fall scenery helps me leave my troubles and worries behind in the dust.  

Farmers are hurriedly making use of the spate of good weather to gather crops, but this means at  places large clouds of dust as I pass fields that are being worked.  I am glad that I have my neck gater and pull it up as I  pass by.  I laugh when I reach to get a drink and get grossed out by the dust that has collected on my bottle, wipe it  off, and drink knowing that I need to stay hydrated.  At times, I pull off the road to allow farm vehicles unfettered access without having to worry about a cyclist claiming "her right" to the road.  My day is for pleasure.  Their day is more important:  feeding a hungry world.  I just heard on television about expected food shortages this year that includes corn and tomatoes, and in my mind I issue a thank you for their attempts to mitigate this shortage.  

I also think how farming is still mainly dominated by men.  Occasionally I will see a woman helping in the fields, but not today.  Since it looks to me, an outsider and not a farmer, like most of what is being done is driving trucks and farm machinery, I wonder why and really reach no good conclusion except, perhaps, tradition and farms, perhaps, being left more often to men as heirs rather than women.  When I worked at the horse farm, I often drove the tractor to bush hog and kind of enjoyed it as the grass and weeds feel sway to the tractors dominion, but only briefly tamed.  But then I remember as a child, my brothers were taught to drive and were allowed to drive the lawn tractor.  As a girl, I was not permitted to do so.   Our home had fairly strict divisions of labor, and they were determined by gender not abilities.  

I begin to reach roads where I must make decisions about which way to go while being not quite sure where each road will lead.  I try to go basically west or south, but sometime the road fools me turning and taking me north.  And I wander and decide until I realize that I have absolutely no idea where I am.  I am gloriously lost knowing that eventually I will find a highway that will tell me where I am or I can use the Wahoo to retrace my route.  

I really have enjoyed my Wahoo for club riding and rides where there is a prescribed course, but when I wander I miss my Garmin.  It is nice to have street names when you wander, and Wahoo only has names for roads if they are a predetermined course.  And while it has a retrace route function, it does not, at least that I have figured out, have a return to start with the option of using another route.  But Wahoo is what I have and until it breaks I don't have to make a decision about what to purchase next.  

As I begin to climb, having left farm roads behind, I notice how beautiful this road is with the trees overhanging and steep drop offs on the side.  The sides of the road are golden with leaves that have fallen yet there are still leaves on the trees in all their different colors ranging from brown to red to orange to yellow.  The wind is rather strong causing leaves to swirl down and the modest grade allows me to play my traditional game of crunching leaves with my tire.  

I laugh coming upon a chair chained to a tree alongside the road.  Behind the tree is a sheer drop off.  Above the chair is a sign announcing it is for sale.  The tree and land or the chair?  What, I wonder, is for sale.  When I stop to grab a photo, I also find that I have no cell service, something happening more and more to me these days.  I suspect my old phone is to blame, but I am not quite sure.  Another purchase I will soon need to make while prices on everything skyrocket.  

At the top of the climb I come upon a small store that I recognize and would have bet had gone out of business due to the Pandemic.  The one time I stopped previously, a number of years ago, the proprietor seemed ancient.  It is just an old shed that sits outside of a house and it didn't have much then.  I don't expect much now but hope for at least a drink because, carelessly, I did not bring food and am rather low on water.  The "open" sign blinks in bright red flashes so I go inside.  The lights are on but nobody is manning the store.  I shout hello a couple times thinking perhaps she is in back, but I get no answer.  I think about leaving a couple dollars and grabbing a drink out of the refrigerator, but I am not really comfortable doing that so I go outside on the porch.  After fiddling with my bike for a short period of time,  I leave when nobody has appeared.  

About a mile down the road, I see a sign for Delaney Park and, grateful to leave a main road, head down Rooster Hill to the road I had hoped to return home on.  As usual, Delaney Park and Eden do not disappoint.  The trees shimmer in the wind and the colors soothe my soul. Squirrels make rustling noises in the leaves scampering to prepare for winter, crossing the road mindless in their hurry causing me to be extra cautious. I giggle thinking of a commercial I once saw that said something about the only  real difference between a squirrel and a rat is their furry tail and asking if the tail makes much of a difference.  And it does. 

 

 I ride miles without seeing a car or another human being and I think how lucky I am to have access to this.  The only disturbing thing I come across is more logging which I think was happening on park land and a for sale sign on acreage up the road that I worry will be bought by someone who wants to cut down all the trees. 

 

Summer has been officially over for awhile.  And we have had unusually cold weather.  We even had a snow that covered the ground, beautiful in its own way but not yet welcome. But that, combined with the coming weather, makes today more special as I soak in the autumn beauty and calm peace of being on a bicycle with no demands on time, pace, or course.   I can't say that fall is my favorite season for I truly adore spring and how the earth yawns and awakens graciously strewing green and colored flowers throughout the landscape.  But I don't think I could ever get enough days like today.  And I am grateful and give thanks.