Biking With Bill

A beautiful weekend and brother-in-law Bill is visiting for our annual bike ride. He does forty mile jaunts per day on weekends and during the week puts in an equal amount on his exercycle. I, on the other hand, go biking at most once a week for never more than ten miles. A perfect mismatch you might say!We opted for the trail that follows Camp Creek from Harmony to Preston. It's hilly farm country at first, then mostly woods and pastures. Bill is a point A to point B cover the miles person.

I, on the other hand, like to smell the roses, see the sights, check out the birds, and incidently catch my breath at every opportunity. There he goes speeding along! Unfortunately, for me, the first couple of miles are a long grade uphill. Thank god for my camera. Stopping to check out good camera angles is essential when your huffing and puffing.. I also catch a woodchuck crossing the trail between us. Bill waits patiently for me every half mile or so. The pastoral setting, the fleeting clouds.... what a glorious day. The people that we pass have a big smile and a friendly hello. Everybody knows that it doesn't get any better than this. As we approached the more wooded areas near the creek, wildflowers began to make their appearance. I noticed a plant about two to three feet tall with long spikes of white flowers. I had never seen it before. Checking my Moyle and Moyle, when I got home, it appears to be Praririe Larkspur, a perennial of dry prairies and open hillsides. There were a number of bluebird houses along the trail and soon I noticed their occupants darting about everywhere. Tree swallows and a rose-breasted grosbeak also made their appearance. I wonder if Bill notices any of this?The next interesting plant to catch my eye turned out to be Tall Meadow Rue. Clumps of the white flowers could be seen all along the trail, often reaching more than three feet tall. If there are "lifers" for a native plant list, I had already gained two in less that four miles. I did decide though that next spring this particular trail might be great for picking up migrating song birds, especially warblers
Things were going well. That is till we came to the top of a long steep downgrade. "You go first," says Bill. Off I go cautiiously heading downhill. The view is breathtaking. The valley, through which Camp Creek flows, is one of my favorite places to fish trout. Then I goofed. I'm so out of practice biking I don't dare turn around to see if someone is behind for fear of losing my balance... but I do keep to the right. Some young guy in a speedo outfit, still pedaling downhill and going probably 40 miles per hour, zips by me yelling "ON YOUR LEFT." Okay that's cool. Several more racers continue the process. I figure these young speeders probably come in packs, so a little bit later as several more come by yelling the same warning, I hardly pay them any attention. I'm watching for bluebirds.
Later, at the bottom of the long grade, I pull over to wait for Bill and have a sip of water. And wait. And wait. And wait, maybe ten minutes. Finally, thinking if he had to go behind a bush or something, it shouldn't be taking that long, I start flagging down bikers coming down the hill and asking. "No," they all say they didn't see anybody waiting along the trail. I figure maybe he got sick and went back to the car.... or maybe a heart attack and fell out of sight in the bushes or.... you get the picture. Then, I start pedaling slowly back up the mountain, in the lowest possible "Granny" gear, straining every inch of the way. Reaching the top, I look around....he’s nowhere to be seen . Then finally I see him coming up the hill. "I waited 15 minutes for you," he is yelling. I'm looking totally dumbfounded (emphasizing the dumb part). He says, "you didn't see me pass you by???? Jeez, I even yelled "on your left" when I passed." God. I think maybe I should stick with birdwatching, it's less stressful. Ok..........this sign is the one they should've had for me