Duck Noodle Soup and a Summer Solstice Festival!

Some middle aged man thoughts.

 I am coming up on a birthday and the thought occurred to me, "Good Lord! I'm on the precipice of the down hill slope of my life."

Which is a silly thought I realized instantly. At the risk of offending my atheist friends, I think only God knows when you are on the downward slope of your life. No two year old hits that birthday and thinks "there it is, the midway point, I'll be gone in two years from my parents stubborn anti-vaccination stance." The thing that is the last thing you will ever do just comes, and then it is the end.

Perhaps, rather than counting on the time we are not guaranteed of, we should live our lives in a manner that ensures that when that unexpected pickup truck crosses the double yellow and comes barreling at us head on, our instant reaction is "I've had a good life here."

What entails that life being good is totally up to you. I have my ideas and you have yours. A point that I would contend with you is that if you are not presently living those things that you think are a good life then get to it. 

You just don't know my friend. You can cross your T's and dot your i's and still get aced driving home from work today. 

For me, I think I'm doing okay at the good life balance. I wish I spent more days of the week just riding my bike and less time worrying that I am incompetent at my job (spoiler, I am) but for the most part I am happy and I have surrounded myself with friends and family that are fun to be around. I'm probably tempting the fates when I say this, but, I'm having a good life. 

Here is to a few more years of keep on keeping on. 

~A

Errand running in Appalachia

I don't know about you, Dear Reader, but I enjoy running errands. There are those who are content to tick away their time on this planet staying down home on the farm. I am not one of those. Perhaps it is the city slicker in me. After a few days seeing the same 40 acres a strange sense of anxiety creeps into my soul and I must take my leave of these bucolic rolling Appalachian hills.

Which can be a bit of an issue in that I have to ride out of said rolling hills to get away from them. Very easily said not so easily done.

I also have a strange hang up that dictates that I have an excuse to be leaving home. I can't simply just go for a bike ride, that bike ride has to have a purpose. Some sort of task needs to be accomplished while on that bike ride. What task needed to be complete?

Luckily for me the house that my wife and I reside in now is a drafty ill-kept farmhouse built either by a man who thought he was in the 1890s or actually was living in the 1890s. Either way there are a series of interesting household repairs that are steadily presenting themselves thus granting me neverending perfect excuses to pump up the tires, charge the daytime visibility lights and strap on the heart rate monitor.

Today's excuse is this bathtub fixture.

You may note that there is water flowing not just down from the spigot but also to the left, the right, and slightly diagonal up towards the right crashing into the shower curtain, and in the absence of a shower curtain, watering the hardwood floors. Now, I am no experts in hardwood flooring but from what I can gather they do not need regular watering.  So I uninstalled the very peculiar bathtub spigot and placed it in my backpack to see if the local hardware store roughly 18 mi away would have a suitable replacement.

The ride started out pretty chilly. The day was only supposed to get up to 67°, and I was leaving just shortly after noon. The warmest part of the day would be in 2 hours when I would be climbing and descending in the shadiest stretch of my ride. I had learned on previous trips that when you are shaded by the old growth trees in the Chattahoochee National Forest it is roughly 10° colder then when you are in direct sunlight. Couple that with a higher humidity then I'm accustomed to having spent nearly the last decade in arid Colorado it's can cause me a fit of the shivers. 

I was very pleased to top out on the first climb in under 30 minutes which was a new personal best for me and signs that I am slowly but surely acclimating to the straight up the hill nature of the mountain roads here. As I crested I was passed by a Toyota RAV4, rather closely, which annoys me because passing in twisty tourney mountain roads is dangerous for both the motor vehicle and the cyclist. The speed limit of this area is 35 mph. The decline gradient is roughly 3% to sometimes as steep as 8%. This means that I am more than capable of maintaining an average descent speed of 35 mph. Which I did my best to demonstrate to the snotty RAV4 driver who assumed that I would be holding them up going down the mountain. Imagine their surprise when I tucked a car's length in behind their bumper and held that position all the way down the mountain to the stone pile gap roundabout. The descent appeared to be nerve-wracking for the driver as they tried to maintain 35 mph but we're unable to. I could see the driver constantly looking in their rear view to see if they had spit me off the back. I hope I only added to their discomfort by always being present smiling and waving at them. I cannot be certain of this, but I feel confident that nothing annoys a motor vehicle driver more than having a friendly cyclist tucked in behind them encouraging them to go faster than what they feel is safe. After all as we are all taught by the endless car commercials on television there is no faster way to get to where you want to be then behind the wheel of x branded car!

Roundabout reached I decided to do a couple circles and stop for photos. Legend has it that this stone pile is the burial site of a kidnapped Indian princess.

Tradition has it that when you visit the stone pile and are in search of better luck bring as round a river rock as you can find, write a message upon it and balance it at the top of the pile, if it stays you'll be granted good luck in pursuit of whatever you wrote on the stone, if it tumbles down... Well let's just hope that what you wrote on the rock was not "I hope I have a safe bicycle ride today."

I left the stone pile and reached the hardware store and was disappointed to learn that the type diameter that my spigot uses is rare if not obsolete and that they didn't have anything even with an adapter that would shrink down to fit the water pipe in my bathroom. The man behind the counter did recommend that I check another hardware store further in town, so I threw my leg over the bike and pedaled off again.

My luck was no better in the second hardware store. For all intents and purposes I might as well have written on a round River Rock "let me find the right tub spigot today" and then had the rock tumble down the pile and into the roadway to be crushed by an 18-wheeler.

My luck did turn around when I stopped in for a visit at the local bike shop however. I exchanged pleasantries with the owner and inquired if he was still in need of assistance occasionally around the shop. His eyes lit up and he said he most certainly did. I tried to play it cool, but I have to admit to you I was very excited. With an occasional part-time job in Dahlonega I would have a ready-made excuse to go for jaunts off of the horse farm. We agreed to get together for a coffee interview sometime next week. So please, dear reader, cross a finger, say a prayer, or send a good vibes for that meeting .

I wandered around town since I was deep in the heart of Dahlonega now. The quaint old village is built upon impressively steep hills. This is a college town and there are signs of liberal academia littered in what is mostly a quite conservative part of Georgia. In many ways it reminds me of the areas just outside of Boulder Colorado, which is pleasant to my heart.

Just off the village square I found a barbecue restaurant and decided to stop for lunch. I ordered the pork sandwich, a side of coleslaw, and a regular sized southern sweet tea. Now my teeth have been cut on Kansas City style barbecue, where the slathering of a molasses or honey-based sauce upon pork butt or short ribs or even lamb mutton is a key feature of the barbecue. What I am learning about this region's BBQ is that smoke is King. The pork sandwich came out piled moderately high and completely dry, rosy red ends leading to long sinewy strands of pulled pork. The side of coleslaw I was surprised to see was a cream slaw not a vinegar slaw. Thus far I have only encountered vinegar slaw at the other northern Georgia barbecue establishments. Which is great, because I love vinegar slaws and feel that a cream-based coleslaw is better left to the deli case of the local grocery store. The sweet tea was diabetic coma inducing, just the way I like it. The little ramekin of tangy sauce was perfectly serviceable and helped the dryness of the pork.

Photos from the BBQ place.

It's was not the finest barbecue that I have had in my time here in Georgia, but it was the best barbecue that I had had that day. Just don't ask me what other barbecue I had that day please.

Barbecue consumed I felt a hunger for a little icing on my lunch cake so I pulled out my phone and searched for a local coffee shop. Literally I typed "local coffee shop" into Google. What pops up? Starbucks. 🙄 Oh the cabal of corporate conglomerates! Further down the recommendations I found a tiny little coffee shop less than half a mile away, so I rolled to that one, Starbucks be damned!

It was there that I ran in to two fellow cyclists who had cycled North from the Atlanta metro area. The gentleman cyclist was riding a beautiful Dura Ace equipped Colnago disc brake version of the bicycle that had just won the Tour de France this year. It was absolutely beautiful, and I am pretty sure that my bike envy was painfully obvious. We exchanged Strava follows and agreed to meet up later in the week for a ride . Which is awesome ! Look at me making friends and stuff.

Coffee consumed and socializing done I had one more errand to run on the opposite side of the Appalachian trail. Last week I had ridden to Blairsville to pick up some produce from the local grocery store. On my way back I passed a tiny little roadside stand that had all of the produce that I had literally just ridden 20 miles to go pick up and was riding 20 mi back home with. I made a mental note that rather than ride a 40 mile round trip produce run perhaps I should stop here and see how good the tomatoes were. 

Little calfs I saw along the way.

Foolishly I had not really planned this route well, so now I was again roughly 20 miles away from the produce stand. However from the produce stand I would only have to ride 11 mi to get to home, which is great.

I stopped in at Sunrise Grocery grabbed a basket of the locally grown tomatoes, some bell peppers, chocolate covered gummy bears, a moon pie, and an RC cola. Let's be honest I said I was going to pick up healthy vegetables but really I am a total sucker for all of that  sugar.

Sunrise Grocery and Cabins

Backpacks stuffed to the gills with candy and tomatoes I did the final stretch back to the horse farm. If ever there was a better 60 mile bicycle errand run, I haven't been on it. What's even better about this particular errand is that I was totally unsuccessful in finding a replacement spigot! Which means I will have to do some research on where to get the appropriate spigot and then throw my leg over the bicycle once again and ride to wherever the new spigot may be! God bless this drafty ill-kept weird piped old farmhouse.

The sugar haul from this ride.

Till next time, Dear Reader...

Drama, Ditch Digging, Bike Riding, and E-bike Philosophy - November 12th, A Thursday, in Suches, Georgia.

 I woke up and jinxed myself almost immediately. As the coffee I just sipped coated my stomach I looked at my wife and said I was going to take a good long ride.

What a fool I am! It is one thing to think a thought of joy, a wholly different thing to say it out loud.  When you think about doing something fun the universe can't see your thoughts and then start throwing obstacles in the way of getting to that fun.  When you say it out loud its like a universe mojo dog whistle.  The weight of unfun is hurled in your direction and you are buffeted by wave after wave of Task and Purpose!

Immediately, I realized my mistake.  My wife, Johanna, looked at me with wide eyed horror. 

She asked, "What have you done? What... Have you done?"

"I don't know," I stammered, "it just slipped out there."

Johanna lept at me like a rabid Hyena "Do you realize what you've done! You've tempted the wrath of the universe's desire to always have us at work you fool! Why? WHY?!" She screamed as she slapped me across the face. 

"I don't know, I was just making benign conversation over breakfast," I stammered through the tears and snot streaming down my face, "Why Lord, why?! Why must you always have us toil and have no fun."

"Don't you ever make benign conversation with me!" Jo shouted. "Never! You talk about subjects of consequence or don't you dare speak at all," she growled as she jabbbed a tiny finger into my chest like a drill bit. 

Just then, at Johanna's most intense tiny furry, my phone chime went off. We both stared in horror at it. Could it have happened so fast? Could unfun have already arrived?

With shaking hands I picked up my phone to see who was texting so early in the morning, knowing already it was The Boss with an assignment in digital hand.

"Good Morning Anthony..." the text began.  

I didn't even make it past the first sentence before I collapsed on the floor in despair, cell phone tumbling from my hands to rest at Johanna's feet.  Slowly she bent over and picked up where I had left off. 

"You're to retrench the drainage around the horse arenas before the afternoon so that they can be harrowed and I can work the geldings," Johanna whispered in quiet resignation. 

"I'll see you out there," Johanna said as she dropped the cell phone beside my sobbing figure sprawled in agony on the floor. Shaking her head, she turned and walked out of the house. 

AAAAAANNNNDDDDD SCENE!

Thanks everyone, man, what a production! 

But for reals.  I was planning on going out on a bike ride. But damned if the boss lady didn't text almost immediately after I thought about riding asking me to retrench the drainage.  We're not talking about hopping aboard the ditch witch either. No sir, this is Georgia. Tech like that is still another 30 years away.  Ditches are dug by hand 'round these parts, or they're not dug at all. And because the ditches would drain the arena where my wife works the horses, it was integral to her ability to work. So the bike ride was postponed and I hoisted the pick axe and shovels. 

I shouldn't be so sour on it either.  I dropped a certain amount of money on a set of TRX bands and a dietary supplement to start working on my core and upper body strength.  Yeah, well, I should have just gotten a ditch digging job.  My first day of shoveling sand out here and I quickly realized the body needs to work in perfect harmony.  Using a particular muscle group without the support of the core or legs causes exhaustion and soreness in the arms and upper back.  Now with a bit more experience my ditch digging form is akin to that of a defensive tight end getting ready to rush the quarter back. A few hours of shoveling and new deeper drainage trenches were ready to go:

A previously flooded arena

Water offloaded to a flat area that will allow for quicker evaporation 

Ditches dug I hurried back to the farmhouse to get dressed for a bike ride.  I must admit that I was throwing a leg over the bike slightly tuckered from the days adventures.  I wasn't exactly sure where I wanted to go either.  

So out of sorts was I that I took a left out of the horse farm rode for about a quarter mile and then thought better of it and went back the other direction.  I had only driven up this way and never properly explored the area beyond.

It was a short exploration.  The road terminates into a series of gravel driveways, each of which I explored in the hopes that one of the gravels stretches was a proper road. Oh what posts were made to Next Door! "Lonely Lost Cyclist wandered up my driveway today." Such thrilling reading to be had on that web forum. 

I doubled back on my double back and ended up heading southwest, as is my usual inclination. I decided to take a stab at a KOM I've been eyeing. Which was cool except my Garmin 830 and I are still getting to know each other.  On my 520 I get a little dude to race against and my time ahead of the KOM time was reflected in a negative number and when I was behind the KOM it had a positive symbol in front of it. This is in keeping with UCI traditional time keeping, where a stage winner's time is listed as the stage time and the finishers behind the stage winner are then +10 or +48 seconds etc.  The 830 was telling me I was -10 seconds, -20 seconds and I was like "oh hell yeah, I'm cooking this guy!" 

No, no I wasn't. Imagine my surprise when the Segment board had me +39 seconds or something. Wowzers! Close but no cigar.  And also, holy smokes! That KOM was flying, I have no idea how he hit this climb with such pace. And he did it in 2010 or something, which means his gearing was garbage too! Fool was probably running a 53/39 and an 11/25 because a 28 tooth cog on the rear was for old ladies. But for reals, look at this hill:

The hard right is interesting on the entrance to the hill because I felt like I needed to scrub speed to not feel unglued from the road. These photos were taken on my second run through and even knowing what was coming up I couldn't seem to figure out a way to hit the corner at the right angle to avoid losing speed. Any tips or pointers for a good angle of attack hit me up  in the comments below!

The hill itself isn't murderous. It's close to 200ft of gain in a little under a 1/3 of a mile. Not murder, but not easy either.  I think finding the right gear and then making sure to shift up as it starts to burn will be key.

As it is, I still got the 2nd place run. Which is pretty decent for an impromptu maiden run on a KOM that no one has been able to touch for over a decade now.  I think with a couple more runs on it I can shave some seconds off and get to where I need to be.  

Like I said I snagged a second run through and took some time to snap a photo of this tapped spring:

I wasn't brave enough to grab a sip from it, but its pretty cool that it is here. When/If my Checkpoint ever gets here there are a ton of fire roads and gravel bits to explore.  I'll have to keep an ear peeled for running water so that I when the water bottles get low I can snag some fresh mountain water.  Don't worry I carry a Sawyer filter for things like that.  I'm not trying to get a tape worm or something. 

As I exited on to Georgia 60 I saw a dude pushing a bike with a trailer up hill and decided I would roll up to him and see if he needed help.  When I got up to him I couldn't see any flat tires, or missing chains. Everything seemed okay until I saw his downtube battery. Ahh, the hills were a bit more taxing than he had anticipated for his little motorcycle. I asked if he needed a tube or anything and when he said no, I told him to have a good ride and pedaled to the top of the mountain.

Now, I wasn't a dick or anything. I will admit though, more than likely my tone betrayed a touch of consternation at this fellow who was pushing his bicycle.  As The Industry licks its chops at the idea of bovine Americans waddling into Local Bike Shops across the country to inquire about $5000 electric assist or throttle bicycles I can't help but feel like we are being untrue to ourselves.  Bicycles are meant to be pushed by the legs of a human being.  When we take the tough out of bikes and allow our fellow humans to put on the airs of being a cyclist we deprive them of the pure euphoria of conquering a mountain with the strength of their own muscle and psyche. If they are riding an assist bike then they can still feel a little accomplishment, but they must wonder deep down if they are capable of doing the task by themselves.  The answer, most certainly, is yes.  You can do it, you just need the will.  We see it time and time again. There is a French man who keeps setting new hour records for his age group, no pedal assist needed. Or the fellow that pedaled his way out of diabetes and heart disease, no throttle needed. Any human being can do it, they just have to develop the hardness to do the deed.  The problem, as I see it, is that most people are as soft as the Stay Puft Marshmallow man.  Are we doing them justice by denying them a chance at hardness by giving them pedal assist and throttle bikes? I suspect not. 

To be fair to the fellow pushing his E-bike up a mountain, that did look hard as fuck.  Perhaps he could try riding it next time, but what the heck do I know? I'm already at the top of the mountain, taking these photos:

I did use the white balance assistant on my cell phone camera to get these shots, by the way.  I have to say, I think if I had adjusted white balance manually, I would feel a better sense of accomplishment, and they might not be so dark. 

Photos taken and triumphs had, I waved to the E-bike pusher as I sailed back down the mountain to home.  A day with fun postponed is still a fun day. Besides my upper body is really starting to pop now that I'm doing all this ditch digging.  Pretty soon I'll look like a guy with a cross-fit gym membership!

Till next time Dear Readers...

~A

Further coffee shop woes in Gainesville, GA

Text from a Google maps review I just posted. It is for this place: 

Inman Perk Coffee - Gainesville on Google Maps

https://goo.gl/maps/tRVvUMrKEYDcpr4k6

****

I ordered a cubano (one sugar), a regular size light roast coffee, and an avocado toast. 

The roast on the espresso was kind of bitter without many notes of fruit or chocolate coming off it. Combined with the sugar it was pretty acidic and for those with sensitive stomachs might cause a touch of upset.

The light roast coffee was light, but a little thin. It seemed light on grounds causing a drip product that allowed me to see the bottom of the cup through the tea like the product. The flavor was good, but I think with a few more grams of grounds in the drip basket it would be a lot thicker feeling on the tongue and thus more flavorful.

The avocado toast was pretty straightforward. Sourdough toast, avocado, red onion, the end. There's a lot more that can be done with this dish and for the asking price, perhaps it should be done, but it was for my wife and she was fine with it. I've heard her rave over balsamic glazed red onions atop mounds of smashed avocado, sprinkled with feta crumbles and crushed bacon bits. But this item met the bare minimum of what is required to be avocado toast, bread and avocado.

I can't rate the staff. They were polite but not outgoing. They seemed much more comfortable with the regulars of which I am not one. Once again, just hitting the bare necessities, a warm body to pump the coffee pot. 

All in all, it got me to where I needed to be, caffeinated. But they didn't do it in any way shape or form that will leave an indelible mark on my memory.

It is the definition of okay.

Gainesville Coffee shop blues

Soooo, insomnia is back. Which is awesome. I've been wrestling with insomnia off and on since high school. It's probably bad sleep hygiene, to use the parlance of our day. 

There are a million things I will now tinker with to fight the insomnia. One key to surviving the next day when wrestling with your insomnia is a good cup of coffee. Not the swill their pawning off on suckers in the hotel lobby.  No, no! Those of us who've been up all night have no time for watered down jet fuel. We need the fully loaded variety.

Which brings me to the travesty below:

If you are an online business its a terrible taboo to not know enough about the internet to know that Google maps has a button you need to click to show up on their map listed as online only. 

Don't feel bad if you'd didn't know this, just don't start an online retailer either. 

If you're in Gainesville, GA and you want a really early cup of coffee, well you're screwed. Nothing opens till 7:30am. Everything else is a mirage in the early morning mountain mist.

~A

Ps, I did get some photos from the walk that are interesting, to me at least.

Name the artist that drew this creature! You win my undying respect. 

Some tired blossoms still lingering before the frost.

These blossoms are still going strong it seems.

Wild mistletoe! So wild it wouldn't stand still to have it's photo taken, hence the blurriness. 😁

Election night fever dreams and what comes next?

And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.

~1 Corinthians 13:13

Oh, you thought this was just a bicycle blog? Do you know me?

 

I had a plan for election night. It involved taking a trip and chatting with God. Then I moved to Georgia. Direct conversation with The Almighty is discouraged 'round these parts, so I had to stay in this earthly realm. 

Not to fear though. It was my wedding anniversary and I spent the day chilling with my wife, getting picked up when our car broke down, having some ho hum food, and organizing the massive amount of stuff that revolves around me like Starlink satellites orbits the Earth.  I did a decent job of keeping myself off the media and thus went to bed not really knowing what was shaking out with the election. Then I could wake up rested and ready to tackle the future of this country, come what may.

However, the collective unconscious had other ideas.  I believe that we are all connected on the spiritual level. Just in the way a sheep at 7 o'clock position in the herd circle knows that there is a wolf at 1 o'clock, so to can humans transmit their sense that a wolf is at the door. And goodness gracious, what a battalion of bleating goats humanity is on the astral plane at the moment. 

My dreams betrayed your tension.  The first act of the last nights dream went this way.  

I was down by a creek I just discovered here in Georgia. Its roughly here. 

I was standing on a narrow wedge of log like you would use in a campfire and my head was in a noose, hands tied behind me. I was watching myself, third party omnipotent style. I watched me teeter on this log and suddenly it tipped and Anthony was hanging. Anthony's face flushed red and the veins began to stand out in his face and neck turning brighter purple and bulging as they fought to overcome the strangulation of the rope that was digging into his flesh and causing bleeding.  The means of execution was not meant to kill swiftly but rather to prolong the suffering, feet kicking just half a foot above the ground , the branch Anthony was tethered to bouncing under his weight. 

Eyes bulging, spittle oozing from my mouth I watched myself stare off in search of that never ending talk with God.

The next act was related because as Anthony was done dying in the first act I looked down at my hands and the fingernails were all gone. Open and bloody, a series of mushroom pipettes sprouted from them and began to grow and envelope my arms and body. Even as I write this my reaction is so visceral that I get goose bumps. In the dream I began to flail and that was when I woke up. 

Heart racing, gasping for breath, the flailing really taking place in this life. I reached for my phone knowing exactly what I would find. A dead heat. Both sides terrified the other was going to ruin their party, busy sending their anxiety into the universe like waves of destruction crashing upon the shore. 

Why? Why couldn't it have been a blow out one way or the other? 

If it had been a blow out for either side then the losing side would have had to reevaluate the country they thought they knew.  Instead we have this.  This cluster fuck of two sides thinking they're just about evenly matched and not willing to back down.  On the blue side you have the numbers by population and the thrust of economic activity.  On the red side the vast majority of territory and most of the guns.  Each side in their heart of hearts knows they are right. The question that is on everyone's minds is "Are we willing to fight over knowing we are right? 

I don't know, I don't know. It's one hell of a pickle you've gotten us in. Maybe not you directly. 

But certainly, 

without a doubt, 

you and I, 

The Royal We 

are in a pickle.

How does one tie up such an article? I don't know and neither do you.  We've not had to write such things during our time in this nation.  

Perhaps have a read of publications from Sarajevo in the mid 90's, listen to some news radio clips from Rawanda in the same period, or read this book  and let me know if  a second American civil war sounds like a good idea to you. 

Take a deep breath.  Remind me to take a deep breath.  There are no wolves at the door my friends, its just us. We are acting scared of ourselves.  Do not fear yourself, love yourself. 

Then, dare I say it? 

Love the others as you would love yourself. 

~A