Things are going on at the Masonville Merc. There's a new door, and they're hiring staff for...something. Also Jenn got a new bike, she didn't ride it on this ride, but here it is anyway.
It didn't look promising. Precipitation fell continuously Friday, blanketing every unpaved plot in Fort Collins in fluffy white snow. A 6am "slip test" made us feel better about it, the icy bridges did not The route itself, like its ancestor the "Armageddon Amble", eschews pleasantries in service of its goal of finding old military installations. Unfortunately this presents less as sight seeing, and more a tour of Eastern Colorado's most debris strewn highways. By the southernmost point, things had turned around. We picked up the pace, aided by a light tailwind for the return north along more familiar, and much quieter, roads. By the time we arrived back in Fort Collins only puddles remained, and the prairie dogs were eagerly gobbling the green spring grass.
Finally spring. Little green buds on the trees and a strong breeze from the south
I like night riding. The lack of visual stimulus allows other senses to come through. The whirling of the pedals and chain, cold air against the skin, and somehow the dark smells different. But more than any of those things, a night ride means that the season for night riding has arrived.
Back drinking coffee at the flower gardens with friends, feline and otherwise.
Rain in the forecast, and the need to get packed. One quick loop up to Suzette, down to Malaucène, past the abbey, around Le Barroux, through Caromb and back to Carpentras. This ride put me over 200,000ft of elevation for the year. Took a moment at the ruined, though not actually very old, aqueduct.
“Make a plan and stick to it” is good advice if the plan is “have a good time”. Les Dentelles are a little slice of gravel heaven. Steep, sometimes smooth, sometimes chunky, usually flowy, often fast. My route for the morning was a typical Suzette loop, but, “the plan” necessitated this dirt detour.
Some roads go nowhere and that’s cool. Pretty sure it’s a metaphor for life.
Over the hills for lunch, and back around for bottles of wine
