Coop's Corner: 85 Miles Backwards

Sunday, April 28, 2019

85 Miles Backwards

Well it wasn't 85, more like 60 today since I chopped the last part off.

Correction, I chopped the first part off.

Almost always, in fact, I don't think I remember a time when I did the "85 Miles of Gravel" ride clockwise before. Maybe it did happen though certainly wasn't the norm. It was because of that today's decision was made to do it the other way around. Only 3 Minimum Maintenance roads instead of 4, it was a good ride nevertheless. I've ridden part of the ride more times than I've completed the entire loop and that's OK. A process open to interpretation.

Gets the job done....

Another Minnesota County road "Pavement Ends"....

Too much glare....

The frost this winter was very hard on some of our roads. These ruts and this huge soft spot could catch a rider unawares......luckily I was on a Trailways 200 Yamaha.

Hay Creek, a favorite with the SE Minnesota trout anglers.

Pavement for people, dirt for horses..... the State Trail follows an old rail right of way that followed the Hay Creek valley from Red Wing south to Zumbrota. Plagued with washed out trestles and other market forces, the line was eventually abandoned.

Another State Forest area that we once upon a time rode our machines through, now hikers and horses ONLY.

The old kiln.....

In the old Red Wing Pottery factory building, this valve on top of an old boiler.

Once again (becoming a bad habit) I went with excellent intentions for fruit pie and then stopped with the Chicken Pot. There quite simply was no room for anything sweet.

I've mentioned numerous times that if only the TW's were 300cc instead of 200cc, they'd be perfect for what I do the most of. Had they been a bit larger, my garage would not have been as full as it is.

Wait....wait, I take back that last part!!

6 comments:

RogerApril 28, 2019 at 10:03 PM
Doug, it's good to see you are back in action. I just noticed the "Others say" entries, and the selection from Margaret Snyder was pretty magical. It reminds me of parts of "Smith and other Things" and even some Loren Eisely. Good stuff.
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redlegsridesApril 29, 2019 at 8:07 AM
It would be nice if T-Dubs had a bit more displacement but then again, perhaps they're ok for what they're designed for....meandering on sketchy terrain. All these years of riding at "Ural Speed" have prepared me nicely for the max speed of 55 MPH (without straining things) of a T-Dub though when the wind is against you.....55 is not quite achievable....then again, neither was it on a Ural. Hah.
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TrobairitzMay 5, 2019 at 8:41 AM
You were on the perfect steed for a trip along the back roads. And a great place to ride to eat too. I think I am hungry now.
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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)