I thought I was alone

on Thanksgiving . . .

It was a spectacular morning.

Up and over Hawk Ridge, wondering

why no one else was out and about.

Up Maxwell to the "fruit roads," when . . suddenly . . . fresh Pugsley tracks . . It could be one of many.  Lost the tracks back on Maxwell.  Up to Strand, over to the Lester River Rd, to Beyer, Evan and Wahl. On Lakewood Jct, the mysterious tracks once again . . .

Fast forward 24 hours . . . still riding alone, 15 miles from the warmth and safety and security of home, I stopped to snap this photo.  I noticed a few loose spokes.  

                    

Loose spokes and puncture, nothing like a little cold fingered bike repair in the woods.

Fast forward another 24 hours.

Does anyone know where this is?



It's Hwy 61, never hear of Arthur Rohweder before.  Neither had I.

My final misadventure of the four day Thanksgiving weekend: I guess the

road to Brighton Beach was just a bit more ice than I anticipated!  Slid about 15 feet on glaze ice that was so slick and clean I did not even get my jacket dirty.

a Very Special Thanks . . .

I'd like to extend a Very Special Thanks to the driver of the silver SUV, who at 2:15 this afternoon while East bound on the North Shore Scenic Drive chose to place his right rear wheel in just the proper position and accelerate at just the right second to send enough salt laden slush onto me to nearly knock me off the road.  I'd also like to thank him for completely covering my glasses in said slush, for saturating my clothing and for filling my mouth full of especially tasty salty snow (yum).  In his defense it should be noted there were no other cars anywhere to be seen and I was as far to the right as I could safely be.  Again, a Very Special Thank You.

I had to remind myself of this:

Confessions of a reformed car chaser

(Thanks Almanzo)

Other than that . . . Dave and I had a great ride!

I was a bit surprised that nearly the entire road was still snow covered.  Perfect fun on ice!

I think there may be just a bit of bike maintenance in my immediate future.

Already can't wait until tomorrow!

Flair for the dramatic

Due to the unusual recent weather, and the lack of compatriots willing to ride in the rain, wind, ice, cold and snow  . . . I have been reduced to . . . (audible gasp) . . . running . .  with our dog Hazel.

Keeping with my usual flair for the dramatic . . . 

Thank heavens for those titanium bones; enough said . . . 

Maybe tomorrow will be back on the bike

Take time to read this:



Confessions of a reformed car chaser

Taps

Double Tap

No Tap

Idiot

That was FUN!

Upon learning that the mysterious "riders of the dark" were moving, my decision was made.  Ride I must.  Plan was to ride Orange.  She'd been sitting patiently waiting for her time of renewal and glory

Four revolutions from home,

"ker thunk . .  ."  That didn't feel right.  I jumped off for a quick look, only to find

a self-destructed rear hub.

Would BLONDIE be up to the task?

I quickly saddled up, pointed Blondie downhill wondering "would anyone else 

(save the riders of the dark) be silly enough

 to venture out,

or would I be alone . .  

Much to my joy, amusement and bemusement I was not to be alone!

Tim and  I headed bravely into the gale force winds along the shore of the greatest of lakes, moving at times as fast as 12 mph, often we were reduced to  8 -  9 mph as we struggled to stay upright.

When we reached the end of the pavement near Two Harbors, Tim turned to head to the Mocha Moose, while I ventured alone up the gravel ahead.

don't laugh . . . it's the 1st time I have used the self timer

Apparently I appeared a bit worse for wear when I returned to the Moose (or so said the customers).

Why is his coffee bigger than mine?

After a few well earned calories, it was back on the road again.

Leaving Tim at home, I continued on for a while longer, logging nearly four hours, while perhaps not up to the standards of the "riders of the dark," an effort nonetheless.

Which left me with four hours of bike repair and maintenance, and 12 ounces of water in each boot.

ORANGE repaired 

 ready to roll

I'm not the only one

Someone in Copenhagen is "Riding Orange . . . "

Sometimes it's just nice to go for a bike ride . . . some pavement, some gravel 

 flats and hills, wind and calm

Just a bike ride . . .