Out of Dry Land

The more I thought about it, the more I realized it just would not be enough of a challenge. Sure, I could get some distance and speed, and my legs most certainly could use some good distance rides, but I would be sacrificing curiosity at the altar of routine. You see, I was ready to roll out on the road bike this morning, some good old pavement riding. But then I thought, why? After all I can have the best of both worlds - this religion is big enough to mix some dirt and rock with the asphalt. And thus did Friday become Ibis Day. 

The Rock and Sand Club Loop was a little more, and a little less. A little less because it turned out to be something short of a loop; and a little more - a hymn to mud, a psalm to water - beside the familiar rock and sand. At first the water was held in little puddles, small enough to avoid, or splash through with little consequence. As I got closer to the gates of the dam the congregations of water closed together, splashing became mandated rather than an option. Still, ridges of higher ground allowed me to ride above the water most of the time. Eventually even those came to an end. I back tracked, hoping a secondary path, one right up against the base of the dam would be higher and drier. Alas, no. The mud over there was a thicker, stickier variety and I made a bee-line across it for a grassy verge assuming it would be drier. Alas, no. Deceived, I pedaled into a marsh. My left foot went for a swim - ankle deep. The grass hid water, but not mud, and the pedaling was easier. Plus the water cleaned the mud from tires and brakes. Eventually even this came to an end, and as I faced a muddy mess once again I spotted a side trail leading away, back toward my original path. And so I took it, and I found my way. Hallelujah! Out of the Valley of the Watery Grave I rode. Back to a firmer footing, a more solid ground.

out of dry land

the thicker, stickier variety

then I paid a visit to the sky park, drying in the sun, where hoodoos mark paths of landing and flight