50 miles. No camera.

I managed a 50-mile ride yesterday sandwiched between storms.  I’d planned on something shorter, but I forget to put the flash card back in my camera.  Yup, pretty silly.  I have spare cards in my camera back, but I’d grabbed the body and lenses and tucked them in to my backpack. Nothing to do but shake my head and get back on the bike.

I was riding my favorite – a cannondale mountain bike (M500) from a decade or so ago.  As stuff broke, I took it off, so there’s only one speed.  I cycled south along the South Putnam trail until the New York City line, followed the dirt track to Van Cortland, then Broadway south until the George Washington bridge, at which point I cut over to the bike trail along the river.  I was going to take pictures near the Fairway at 125th, but continued south to Battery Park instead.

Storms rolled in on the way back but I made it home in a drizzle.  Within 15 minutes it was raining to drown the dead.  I carefully put the flash card back in the camera, but I think the better plan might to keep the cycling separate from the photos.  Maybe I’ll take the train in with my camera bag and hike over to the bike path and down to the village.  There’s a project for Monday.

 

 

is it meditation if I’m thinking about work?

Waiting for the storms to pass

It howled last night.  Wind rushed through the valley and battered my little tent. It poured, but — unlike the Great Divide trip — this time I had the real tent.  I only had to go out once, squatting like a caveman, pounding two stakes back into the ground.  This is me in the morning light, waiting patiently for the storm to pass so that I can get in the kayak without worrying about being struck by lightning while the winds drive me into the opposite shore.  It’s a very flattering picture; I’m surprised no one from GQ has used my contact info.

By 8:30, I was on the water again, as relaxed as I’ve been in a month.  I actually read my book for a while and took silly photos (they’re below) before simply reviewing what the heck is going on in my life.  It’s funny how much easier it was to think about life while driving to Pennsylvania and out on the lake than it is at home.  At home, I have too many things cooking at once.  Driving only allows two things:  pay attention to the road and let the mind drift.  Leaning back in the kayak means not even having to pay attention!  What joy.

Answers?  Nope.  None.  There’s some stuff I should do when I get home and there’s some stuff I should plan for but there’s also time enough to try to do them this weekend.  Then I think it should be bike and kayak back on the car and another three days out.

Manly man kayaking.

Yes, I love the little camera apps.  But only for their schtick.  It’s much more fun to take ‘real’ photos with a ‘real’ camera and then work on them little by little until they re-create the picture I imagine I once saw.  Alas, I’m too new to the kayak to dare take a camera that requires coordination!

day two.

Amazing.  Cotton blanket and cot combo worked out.  Kayak in the morning.  Ride the Allegrippis.  Pull the cot from the tent and fall asleep in the sun.  Luckily, the sun moved me gently into shade before I get burned.  Back to the bike, other side of the trail system.  Talk to sweetie in Spain.  Wrap it up in time to grab a pork BBQ from a stand and eat it out on the water, reading, while the sun goes down.

News alert for Seven Point recreaters — forget the BBQ stand.  8 bucks and nothing special.  Stick with the gas station/deli/grocer downhill from Bakers Hollow Road.  Ham and cheese or italian for half the cost and pretty damn good.