swallowtail – Splattered Brains

I saw this at the website of the National Park Service for the C&O Canal Park after I got home from my bike ride.I might have been the only person to ride the section after it was closed.

In fact I had to cross this barrier at Pennyfield Lock to exit the closed section after I was done with my ride.Earlier on, I had encountered a young girl working for the NPS who belonged to the Student Conservation Association who was taking a count of the number of fallen trees in the closed section. She said that she had counted 20, and that she had stopped because she had come to an impassable section. I was able to cross this section by carrying my bike off the trail and back on to it.The section of the trail in the picture below looked beaten up from water flowing over the trail.A park ranger had stopped me earlier. He looked a little upset when he saw me. He got up from the stump he had been sitting on. “Did you not see the sign that the trail was closed?”, he asked. I had been prepared for the encounter. “I have to get back to my car which is parked at Pennyfield Lock,” I said. He immediately relented. He actually smiled.

I had actually encountered an NPS pickup truck with a couple of kids earlier on in the closed section of the trail. They were backing away from the site of the destruction on the trail, all the way back to Swain’s Lock it seemed. Because of the width of the towpath, there was no place to turn the pickup truck around. They had told me to be careful, but had made no attempt to stop me. The kid mentioned that they were not responsible if I hurt myself.

Back at Swain’s lock, as I approached the sign for the blocked trail, I had a decision to make. I could stay on the trail, or I could try to get to the main road and ride along the road. Riding along the road would have added a couple of miles to the ride, and it would have also involved riding up and down decent slopes on the side roads to get to the main road. It would have also been more dangerous because of the traffic on the road. Besides, I was tired after having ridden more than 30 miles at that point. It did not take too long for me to decide to stay on the trail and face the consequences of my action if I encountered somebody who objected.

At that point I was returning from a ride all the way out to Fletchers Cove. The highlight of this ride was the stop to see the swallowtail butterflies feasting in the morning sun on the milkweed growing beside the waters of the canal.Crossing the damaged section of the trail earlier in the morning on my way out had been an adventure in itself. I could ride my bike for only short sections at a time. I had to carry my bike over tree limbs laying across the trail, and walk under fallen branches balanced over me. I even had to carry my bike off the trail through the woods to get past one section. Fortunately folks had created a path off the trail in this section. (The trail must have been blocked for at least a little while at this point in time for this to happen!) I carried my bike past the park ranger who was sitting in his front-end loader on the trail. He did not stop me. Perhaps he remembered me later in the day when I encountered him again, which was why he let me get by that time.

The destruction was extensive. Trees were fallen all over the place. The trail had also been washed away in a few sections, as if the canal had overflowed. I kept going.

When I started the ride earlier that morning, I had met a person who had just finished his bike ride. He had warned me about the fallen trees, but had apparently gotten through to the other side, where the trail was completely clear. He did not say anything to discourage me from my plan to ride towards the city.

The strange thing about what I saw on the trail was the localized nature of the damage. I have a hunch that some kind of twister must have touched down during a storm that had taken place a few days earlier. The funny thing is that I was not aware of the extent of the storm when it happened even though the trail is not too far from home. I wondered how things might have looked on the trail when the storm was actually happening. The power of nature is awesome.

And that is the end of this little tale told backwards!

Hah!

I had not been on a bicycle since the accident that happened almost a year ago. The doctor had given me the “all clear” to go back to my regular activities a while back, but I had not done it even though I had decided a long time ago that there was no way other than to get back on the bicycle. The truth was that I was also missing all the training rides that I had being doing in the years past – on various sections of the C&O Canal towpath, on the Capital Crescent Trail into Bethesda and Silver Spring; on the Custis, the W&OD, the Mt. Vernon and the Four Mile Run trails in Virginia; and even the ride up Sugarloaf Mountain. I knew these trails somewhat well by now, and I could even picture some of the specific experiences and challenges that one came across along the way, whether it was the stop at Fletchers Cove to use the facilities and get a drink of water, crossing the Potomac on the Key bridge, or riding along the river on the Mt. Vernon trail past Gravelly Point and National Airport, or the challenge of one of the slopes on the Custis trail or Sugarloaf mountain. I needed to do it.

But time passed and it did not happen until now. You could say that there was a bit of apprehension on my part, not because of the fear of riding a bike per se, but because of a fear of falling off the bike. It was specifically about the possibility of falling on my separated shoulder once again. I had a mental picture of how severe the damage could be to a clavicle that was already floating around. I did actually look for specific protection that could be worn it this regard, but the only solution out there would have made me look and feel like a gladiator with plastic armor-plating on a bicycle. I could not picture that! But there were other real excuses. We were busy with a wedding and with guests who were visiting until now. Before I knew it, we were half way through the year.

I finally made the move Wednesday morning. I checked out my biking gear the first time in many months – the shorts, the tops and the gloves. Things were where I expected them to be. I checked out the bike, still covered with dirt from last year, reinflated the tires, grabbed my helmet, and after a test ride around the cul dec sac, loaded it into the back of the car.

Finally at Pennyfield Lock. OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA I decided to ride a distance of about 16+ miles (one way) to Fletchers Cove this day. I had forgotten how cool it could be under the trees even on a July morning in the middle of summer as you rode against the wind. I had forgotten the rhythmic sound of the crunching of the tires against the gravel of the trail as one rode on the dirt. I had forgotten the easy and peaceful nature of an early morning ride. There was a feeling of serenity, and the mind could wander once again.

I took it easy. This is the way I usually start a ride, especially after a break from when I have been challenging myself. But then the Adrenalin kicks in and, before you know it, your legs are moving to a steady beat and the pace is increasing to another level. And it is all so effortless at this point. You are enjoying the ride.

I can still sense some fear in me, a fear of falling off the bike if I got too close to the edge of the trail, but it is no more about the shoulder. I know I am over it, and it has happened quickly. The other general fear of wandering across the trail and falling off into the woods or the water will disappear with time, just like it used to in the past. It is a defense mechanism of the brain that I appreciate.

Life along the canal has not changed. I have to stop for pictures along the way. OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

There are people around on this cool summer morning, especially later in the morning. I re-familiarize myself with the practice of passing people who are on foot on the trail. There are many such people. Recent rains also seem to have done severe damage to the trail. I take a couple of detours off the trail along the way.

The ride back to Pennyfield Lock is when the muscles in my thighs begin to feel it. It is a familiar feeling, but it is not a feeling that you tend to remember the details of once the ride is complete and those sore muscles have recovered. I ride steadily, without a sense of rush, but by now I am also in the groove once again, and I have to make the conscious effort to slow down, and perhaps even stop once in a while to take a picture or two. This is all familiar territory for me.

The ride ended successfully. I am going to try my best to make sure this was not just a one-time effort, a flash in the pan if you will. I need to do more rides for my sense of balance and sanity. Perhaps longer group rides are in the cards once again starting next year.

Tag: swallowtail

A Closed Section of the Towpath

A Moment of Determination