Bushwhackering

I've got the cross bikes back from the shop, Anthony and George repaired what I destroyed, and the bikes are for the most part ready to ride.   I pulled the SSmtb from the shed, but ended up on the cross bike headed out on the cross loop.   The trails been blocked by the high running river, so today was the first passable day to ride.  Everything has gone crazy,  I plowed through, blinded by green, I stomped through, stirring up clouds of pollen.

I tried to avoid the dreaded stinging nettle, but I still have a few spots smoldering with "itch".   I had fine vines tangling my cranks and pedals, pulling me back.  Giant leaves.  Spider webs.

I made it to the stones, the large pebble beach and broken up cement.  I felt like a bushman, stepping out of the dense jungle into the clearing.   I looked, the river was down enough to pass, and there was a nice looking naked lady.     Tall, nice figure.  and then I saw the photographer, snapping away as she posed, more arts-ie than porno-ish.   I loudly cleared my throat, they both startled and he got a towel for her.  I didn't make a big deal, you know, just like anyone else I'd come across back here.    I apologized for my strange surprising appearance, stepping out of the thick brush.  In my garish kit, bike hefted onto shoulder.    They seemed to be the normal ones here.  I gave her a smile, a nod to the bloke, made a nice remount and pedaled away, not looking back. 



ah my trails, mine

I am in need of a machete.

cheers, d.