So I managed my four-hour ride across the river & into the trees yesterday afternoon. It was a bright sunny day for most of the ride, with a brisk cool northerly and some high wispy cloud appearing in late afternoon, a sign of the change of weather to come today. (The wet windy stuff is forecast to arrive anytime now, as we near mid-day.)
The colours had faded a bit from their splendour in the early part of the month, because most of the leaves had fallen from the trees, especially near the hilltops. Still, that meant that the woods were open to sunlight for the first time since mid-May, and that change brought some lovely combinations of light and shadow into the woods beside the road. And from Champlain Lookout, at the top of the scarp, the brisk northerly gave us clear air and a bright sky.
The parkways are now closed for the season to motor traffic, so there were
no cars on the roads. Instead, there were dozens of cyclists, some hikers, people walking their dogs, inline skater, and inline skiers prepping for the X-country season, everyone meandering along more-or-less on their side of the road, nodding cheerfully to whomever they saw. It was a bit like an impromptu citizens' celebration, welcoming the beginning of a low-carbon age. If only.
I took along the camera and stopped along the way for a few shots. Here's the link to the folder:
https://www.dropbox.com/sh/6bev8q7kz7ybkr8/AAAmCVhylU4uDiv-LJzWkZHVa?dl=0(I seem unable to post the photos themselves from my Dropbox file, when following the instructions to paste the link between the <img> tags. I get only a blank space in the message. As I read Dan's post below, I think that the problem may be that I'm not waiting long enough for the photos to load.)
My ride took rather longer than the usual four hours or so for the longer loop, which ascends the ridge to the lookout from the north side, lengthening the overall ride by about 15 kms. And, there were quite a few cyclists at the top, so we took some photos for each other, and chatted about the beautiful day. We do get such days in late October, and even early November, but not many, so we treasure them, and in our Canajan way we talk about the weather. ("Fait beau, eh?" "Best to enjoy it -- might be snow next week." "Not too many more of these coming, eh?" etc.)
Then, unexpectedly, a short but enriching personal encounter and conversation happened: I was just about to leave, following my photos, snack, and small talk about the weather, when a woman cyclist rolled up on a high-end road bike. We nodded, and chatted, remarking what a beautiful day it was. We talked some more about what a jewel we have in the park, with its beauty in all four seasons, and on the rides to be had around the Valley. I mentioned the ride we'd done in August with my friend Trevor, from South Africa, to celebrate his 80th b'day. She knew the route we'd followed, starting on the Ontario side of the Ottawa river, and said how she hoped to be able to do that at 80!
And then she said,
and then she said, that she had just turned 50, and was so happy to be back on the bike: she'd just resumed cycling this past June, having been away from it for two years, after being operated on for a brain tumour, and recuperating from that. Then, when she rode back up to the Lookout in June, she cried tears of joy all the way up. We talked some more, and I mentioned riding with Trevor in South Africa. Turns out she knew about SA, because she had been on Canada's national road-racing and mountain-bike teams when she was younger, and had competed in MTB races in SA. (She loved the cycling culture & the countryside, but wasn't so keen on the snakes beside the singletrack...) I mentioned having met a couple of guys at the same spot in previous years, who had just recovered from cancer surgery in one case, and in the other, from years of debilitating effects of blood clots. I'd met both of them after they'd made it up the 15 kms and 300 (net) metres of climb, for the first time in years, taking twice as long as they normally would -- and both of them proud and a bit overcome.
We thanked each other, said "'til next time," and went our separate ways.
The things you learn from "casual" encounters and conversations. When you have such encounters, and hear such stories, you can only feel lucky and privileged to have your own health, rocky bits and all.
