I am once again writing from the Long Trail Brewery, which features great beer and free Wi-Fi. I am blissfully unaware of everything going on in the wide world, with the single exception of the fact that there is a “death panel” debate going on, which is so stupid that I confess I lack the ability to mock it or the interest to discuss it.
So, once again, I present some pictures of Vermont.These animals are not refugees from a Dr. Seuss book, though they certainly appear to be his artistic inspiration. They are, in fact, Alpacas. I am informed by a reliable source that a studly male goes for a princely sum. Their wool is unbelievably soft and warm.
I took a bicycle ride today of approximately 35 miles. It began and ended at our rented house. The first 20 miles or so trend downhill, as is illustrated by this view of the river that runs along route 131.
But, as any seasoned cyclist knows, a round trip means you pay for every downhill. In this case the uphill is on the road from Felchville to Tyson. Felchville appears to be a mythical place. There is a sign in Tyson telling you that it is 10 miles away, but when you get there it is Reading, where there is another sign telling you that, should you reverse direction, you’re 10 miles from Tyson.
Anyway, the road from Felchville to Tyson ascends a ridge for approximately 7.5 of those 10 miles.
Here I must pause and ask why we cyclists inflict such pain on ourselves. There are portions of this road that ascend at a 15 degree rise, at the very least. But, all things must pass, and this is the sight that greeted me when I reached the point which is (save a few negligible climbs amid the downhill ride) the end of the agony. No one can convince me that these faces weren’t put there by a cyclist.
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