Coop's Corner: October Saturday

Sunday, October 26, 2014

October Saturday

Early morning sunshine, some of us were up to enjoy it.

Ben and I suited up not long after our thermometer broke 50 degrees. Today's ride was a clockwise loop, crossing the river at Red Wing, then working our way through Wisconsin down to Nelson, the next bridge crossing downriver.

Red Wing's Barn Bluff coming up on our right. History tells us that 153 years ago Mr. Thoreau visited the peak on his trip West. We just rode past today though we've been up on top numerous times.

On 450th St.....this a common sight today while we were up and out of the valleys.

The always fun 410th Street......

At the western edge of Wisconsin Rustic Road #51....my helmet cam lens violated.

First of 4 water crossings.......

Crossing #4, the climb out of the valley just ahead.

The other end of the Rustic Road just ahead....

Foster Road, Bogus Road down to State Highway 35 along the river and into Pepin, Wisconsin.

Stopping for lunch at the Pickle Factory was our goal at this point and on our way along the riverfront, we passed both the Flyway Film Festival that I'd mentioned here as well as the very popular Harbor View Cafe ("Best From Scratch"). Reservations almost necessary, seems there's often a wait hence the pastel chairs.

Up Jahnke Hill and on top, Agriculture was in motion around every corner.

I had warned Ben that when I gave the signal on Goat Back Road, he was to be ready for the possibility of pooches on the road.......there was only one today though he looked the sort that might be very willing to compensate for his missing mates.

The long and winding Elk Creek Road..........

After winding our way back down to Nelson, we parked for ice cream, crossed the river back into Minnesota and headed north. We stopped to buy apples from Ben's sister (I bought, she carried home) while she manned the store. This morning as I type she's in-flight on her way to Portland for an audition.

Almost home, we used Territorial Road, one of Minnesota's earliest transportation paths, working our way back to Frontenac, with a quick loop through the parking lot at the beach on Lake Pepin.

Today we'll do it again once the heavy frost clears; I'll get the bug off from the helmet cam and make better use of the hand held for normal photographs. Ben has probably worked up enough of a tolerance now for all of the stops I make.

One more very dandy day!

8 comments:

RichardMOctober 26, 2014 at 9:40 AM
Beautiful riding weather! And just the name "Pickle Factory" makes the food sound wonderful. Yesterday, we went to a place with a pretzle roll thanksgiving sandwich. Turkey, stuffing, cranberry sauce plus the normal sandwich makings. Pretty tasty with the pepper jack tomato soup.
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TrobairitzOctober 26, 2014 at 11:25 AM
A beautiful fall day for riding. I was surprised to see how many leaves are already on the ground. They are hanging on around here.

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SonjaMOctober 26, 2014 at 11:56 AM
I was also noticing the advanced state of your fall season. In our neck of the woods it's still harvest time (late crops and wine mostly), and leaves are just beginning to turn.

I am glad you got a patient and understanding riding buddy for all those pics.
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VStar LadyOctober 26, 2014 at 7:59 PM
What awesome weather you seem to be having. Your trees seem to be on par with ours in eastern Ontario for welcoming winter ... Looked like a spectacular ride, thanks for sharing.
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Others say....

"it was auspicious to approach any situation from a deferential, inquisitive place. Conceding that there is much to learn is the best blueprint for discovering something new." ----B. Fuller

The Man straightened stiffly above the block of salt fixed to the stake and looked at the young cattle ringed about him. The pasture was holding out well and the stock was looking good. This bunch would be ready to sell in another month, maybe sooner if the market was right.

A stir among the cattle down near the river brought him round to face the swinging bridge he'd built years before. Someone was coming toward him from the bridge. Someone in breeches, but it didn't look like a man, somehow. What was a woman doing in his pasture this time of night?

He bent over the salt again; maybe if he paid her no heed she'd go on past and let him mind his own business. He heard her footsteps come nearer and stop. "Good evening," she said.

Her voice was smooth with book learning but friendlier than most, and somehow almost shy. When he made no answer she went on, "I've been sitting on your swinging bridge....I thought I'd like to say thank-you...." Her voice stumbled a little, then she tried once more.

"You are Mr. ____". His name sounded strange in her voice, but she went on to tell her own.

"That's what they've called me the last sixty-eight years," he said, looking past her face to the hills fast darkening under a single star. "I reckon the woods are free for those that like to walk there."

The unfamiliar voice laughed a little. "That's what Emerson said: the grove belongs to the man who walks in it with an open heart....On that basis I guess I've owned part of your woods for a good many years.....". She made a final effort. "I've always wanted to thank you....."

Something deeply hidden stirred in him. "There's a stump up there, in the notch of the woods", he said slowly, "that before the timber grew so tall you could stand on it and see all over this country."

He kept still a minute, remembering, then, "I used to stand up there an' look at things, an' wonder how they come to be like they was, an' how the hills was created, an' all the things in Nature.... I told my wife I guessed all the religion I ever had I got standin' on that old stump, a-wonderin'..." He turned his face away from her.

She helped him out. "I know about that, a little. This afternoon I saw......." Her account of a thing she had really taken time to look at eased him, and he answered with telling of the badger den at the foot of the swinging bridge.

When she had gone, he turned to watch her. After a moment she stood clear and unmoving against the sky. You could hear the sounds of the river where she stood. She was one that could stand still long enough, he thought, really to hear what a body was saying, or a river.

Then she walked down the farther side of the slope and was gone. ------Margaret Snyder from A Chosen Valley

Fall was the end of harvest, end of the growing season, a burst of color and sun-warmth before killing frost turned the land gray and cold. Fall was a moody time, full of both life and death, a time when we were reminded of the power outside of us, reminded that the seasons happen to us. We do not invite the change to come.-------Ben Logan, from The Land Remembers

When you get those rare moments of clarity, those flashes when the universe makes sense, you try desperately to hold onto them. They are the lifeboats for the darker times, when the vastness of it all, the incomprehensible nature of life is completely elusive. So the question becomes or should have been all along, what would you do if you knew you only had one day, or one week, or one month to live. What lifeboat would you grab onto? What secret would you tell? What band would you see? What person would you declare your love to? What wish would you fulfill? What exotic locale would you fly to for coffee? What book would you write? ------- Ben Tyler

We were also cautioned about journeying far from home. As an example of the dangers, the town had a badly crippled lady named Lucy, who as a girl had traveled to New York City. As she traveled along a sidewalk, sightseeing, she was struck by the outstretched hand of a suicide who had leapt from high above. Her spine had been shattered and for the rest of her life, she was to walk bent forward at the waist, tapping the sidewalk with two black canes. Whenever the subject of travel to a big city was raised, someone would say, "Just remember what happened to Miss Tripp." ---- Ted Kooser, from Local Wonders

"Steamboats are like wedding cakes without the complications...." ----Mark Twain

"It's not about having lots of money, it's about having lots of options......." -----Chris Rock

As the very proud father of three former ponytail wearers, hopefully I can get away with this....."For the past few years it's been fashionable for young women to wear ball caps and to snap the strap on the back under their ponytails. I like the looks of that, their shiny ponytails jauntily swinging, but it's hard not to think of the rear ends of horses. There's a piece of harness called the crupper that goes just under a horse's tail to keep its nose down. If the horse lifts its head to look for a way out of whatever predicament it's in, the crupper tightens and hurts the horse. But it's foolish for parents to think that a ball cap might keep a young woman from running away. Anybody can see they're made for running." ------Ted Kooser, Local Wonders

"I tell the guy's girlfriend that the only difference between the book's main character Phaedrus and myself is that I am neither brilliant, tortured or insane, she looks at my bike and there is an uncomfortable silence." --------ahendepe (a.k.a. Vermin)