Mr. Diarist and I don’t often ride together, and he hadn’t been out on his mountain bike for months, but it was 64 degrees (nearly 18 C) on one of the last days in January, so we took off together on a ten mile jaunt.
It had been warming up a bit over the past few days, but there was still snow along the water’s edge, and some ice, too, in the water, and a little bit on land.
Mr. Diarist took the photos on this trip. That was kind of cool: I got to keep riding, but also was able to see familiar places through his eyes. Or at least his lens. Everyone, after all, sees things a little bit differently.
The snow drew a tidy margin all along the shore. On another stretch of water, the ice looked like parafin:
Mr. Diarist took some shots of Basil and me. These were revealing; I think of Basil as if he’s a full-sized bicycle, so it was a shock to realize that he really doesn’t look like one. He just performs like one!
Bromptons really are distinctive. Who knew? I thought that my ability to spy them anywhere was due to a profound affinity for the little creatures. Maybe it’s just down to how exquisitely diminutive they are. And that great-looking frame.
In spite of the mild temperature, few other people were out. “Gotta love January”, said Mr. Diarist, as we rode onto the trail. In January, we can ride at any speed we wish. April will be a different story.