I forgot a few magical details in the account of last week's ride -- the sight and sound of some splendid critters:
There were a few wonderful moments when wildlife appeared unexpectedly. On several occasions, I heard the haunting sound of geese overhead, doing their prep for their huge trek southwards. En route to Denbigh, a couple of magnificent grey herons arose from a marsh less than a hundred metres away. North of Denbigh, as I turned into a side road to climb the ridge leading to the Madawaska River, a big timber wolf came out of the woods and loped across the road in front of me, maybe 50 metres away. He was a handsome fella, as big as a large Alsatian, but more rangy; grey-brown, with black accents on his muzzle, ears, tail and paws, and apparently unworried or unhurried by my presence. First one I’ve ever seen in the wild.