The Lark and Thistle
“There are some things you learn best in calm, and some in storm.”
P1 - We don’t have many phases these days: one, maybe one and a half. And if by chance some fearless adventurer happens to pack a sandwich, or encounters one in the grocery store, we might achieve 1 3/4. We do, however, have a Phase One—at least in summertime—and this was one such occasion.
The evening was cool and cloudy, an epilogue to that single day of rain we had the other day. April and May were parched (except for a snowstorm and a drop or two from the sprinkler system), so this Tuesday’s inclemency came as a shock, with people building arks, huddling in their caves, and pulling their gore-tex out of storage.
Our fearless adventurers, however, were emboldened, or at least professed to be, as they met at a nearly-empty Oerman-Roche trailhead for their weekly Wednesday walkabout.
There was one other car in the parking lot, and inside its rolled-up windows, a fellow eating a sandwich. The car sat between a pair of concrete bumpers (instead of perpendicular to them), thus effectively barricading this fellow inside a six-inch castle, where he could enjoy his sandwich without interruption. Our fearless adventurers observed this situation (as faithful readers might predict) with a bit of a scoff and a ceremonial snort, after which they fired up their step counters and sallied onto the prairie.
“A fat bike is the perfect tool for extending your riding season if you live where it’s snowy or wet, or where riding a regular-tire mountain bike is futile, not fun, and might damage the trails.”
Along the way, our intrepid explorers encountered a couple of fat-tire cyclists, whose overly beefy tires practically floated over the smooth, wide, and very dry gravel pathway. As one might expect (and certainly you, Dear Reader, must certainly have anticipated), these knobby cyclists inspired the second eye-roll of the evening from our fearless adventurers, albeit conditionally: it did rain the other day, after all.
Later a few stalwart joggers bounded by, each of them calling: “on your left!” Maybe they had just arrived from Monday’s stampeding mosh-pit of ten thousand runners (otherwise known as the Bolder Boulder), and were inspired to be polite. In any case, we stepped aside.
There was a svelte and shirtless jogger, who also called out “on your left,” and who pranced merrily past us, looking overly healthy. This inspired an eye-roll, of course, if only to shroud a modicum of envy. At least he wasn’t afraid of the weather.
At the midpoint bench where we usually stop, a horned lark hopped over, ostensibly to say hello. Nearby, some thistles plumed into the air like fireworks, and poked at passing aphids with their spiny stems. Our intrepid explorers discussed the news, took some pics, then set out on the return.
wavyleaf thistle
3.5 miles, a couple hundred feet of elevation, an eye-roll or two, and a guffaw. All in all, another successful BNO.