SPOOOON!

Dunno whut got into me, a Friday
work interlude inspiration and a

"yeah, why the fuck not?"

attitude had my
mind set in motion.

Ullr is coming, he expects a day
long commitment to truely schralp
those forested white fluffy gifts.

chasing ze trutta has softened me.
that knee thing softened me.

it's all for the better, I needed a
step back from it all, a reboot.

and so, considering that this was
the fish of the day on my last
outing, I'm guessing the trout
have pretty much shut down
their surface feeding for the
year...except on the LeTort,
and I'm not much up for that
chess match..

SO, Friday, eating lunch, I thought
that maybe 'Roxbury to HorseValley
and then home via the 'best' way
considered at the time' loop would
be something fun to do.

Turns out, I was right.

If you consider yourself in any way
a seasoned cyclist, it pays to listen
to your internal 8-Ball instinct.
Don't even ask, you know that
"All signs point to yes"

GO, now. !

"ok."

It always pays to push for a few hours
into a charming headwind and then climb
up one of few storied climbs in the area.
Opens up that direct channel to pedaling
on instinct, counting on that Country
Store that's up at that four way on up
the road from here.

Bounce the helmeted head off the
low hanging Diesel sign and have
a chuckle with the local feller filling
up a rather raw looking drum in the
back of his pick up... mmmmm, locals.
mmmmmmm, Shoefly Pie....the perfect
SouthCentral snack, sitting on a bench
in the late lunchtime sun.

Spin on up 75, then blissful seclusion down
thru rolling rolling HorseValley, This place
takes me back to rural roadie riding during
the VT days....what a hidden gem. Once
you're in, you're in, just pedal to the other
side and soak it all in.

Qwik refuel in East Waterford, new store is
open, so sterile, modern, compared to
before. bummer flashback to the night it
burned, was there the day before while
out pedaling, and then directly after, freaky....

From there it's just a head down, chomp the bits
and pedal 32T whirlwind circles all the way home.
Intercept the perfect sunset timing from down
valley before the Turnpike, chasing it via sketchy
feeling blurred descent of Wagg's...ride it on old
school instinct...these old Campy brakes are 'speed
modulators', not BRAKES!! We're coasting now...

hit the line from memory and just trust that shit
and relish one final ripper down ze mountain.
Snow could be flying soon and it's been a while.
Maybe coulda caught that car and those Harleys,
but only a 32 ring, and sanity prevailed...did close
the gap though, freakin' vest zipper fumbling....

good times, good times indeed.

day long adventures, oh how I've missed thee.