In many ways, this blog is an unsatisfactory and incomplete attempt to describe to others the level of deep contentment I feel rolling along on two wheels.

Since early 2007 I’ve illustrated and described many of my outings.

I’ve attempted to convey the left, right, up, down, and the sounds, smell, and feel so that you might sense the deep contentment it gives me.

But there is a kind of rhythm and flow as the landscape scrolls by at 12 mph, and its description escapes me.

This is especially true on those longer Saturday morning ambles that include roadside stops for refreshment where I take a moment to ponder how to relate this story of this time and place.

Not so much for how it was, but for how it helps.

Yesterday’s loop up to Muenster, Texas is a perfect example.

The route is more dirt and gravel than pavement, and it is one of my favorites.

There is a delightful variety of farm, ranch, wide-open-ness, and forest.

There is emptiness and small town bustle.

And while you might understand that these are delightful to me, I know I am inadequate in my description of how it touches my soul.

So maybe there will be another attempt at some future date.

I’m reading a book titled, “Quiet”, by Susan Cain which seems to confirm my “introvertedness”. There are a few quotes that seem to apply…

“Flow is an optimal state in which you feel totally engaged in an activity – whether long-distance swimming or songwriting, sumo wrestling, or sex. In a state of flow, you’re neither bored nor anxious, and you don’t question your own adequacy.  Hours pass without your noticing.”

“The key to flow is to pursue an activity for its own sake, not for the rewards it brings.”

“Flow often occurs…in conditions in which people become independent of the social environment to the degree that they no longer respond exclusively in terms of its rewards and punishments. To achieve such autonomy, a person has to learn to provide rewards to herself.”

It is an interesting book, but it doesn’t really help me describe the depth of refreshment these rides yield. What it does do, I suppose, is help me better understand why they refresh.

It seems to have something to do with getting into flow.

A week long media fast might help purge the mind.  Worth a try…

Like all of Mrs. Pondero’s dogs, he’s lucky alright. He was found shivering in a ditch on a cold rainy day. Witnesses say he had been there for hours. He was nearly dead (literally) with Parvovirus. But he was lucky that when Justin Animal Control was called, Mrs. Pondero responded.

It was late in the day when she picked him up, and the usual vet was already gone. She took him to an emergency clinic expecting them to end his suffering. But he was lucky that they offered to treat him for the cost of what they would have charged to put him down. Mrs. Pondero agreed, and, perhaps more than anything, he was lucky that it wasn’t until AFTER she agreed that they told her he couldn’t return to the shelter for at least two weeks. That meant he would be temporarily boarding at my house.

She named him Blue Moon’s Lucky Chance, and that was at least two years ago.

Blue Moon is Mrs. Pondero’s dog I identify with most. Not because he is so lucky, but because when I see him, I am reminded of me. He is easily distracted. When she runs him through agility courses, it is common for him get distracted by other dogs or bystanders, leave the course on a sprint and decide it is time for socializing or rowdy play. He loves affection. He is large for a Pit Bull, but will curl up in your lap in an eye blink. Or he will find you, walk up beside you, and lean against you begging for petting. Finally, he’s not a bright dog. He is oblivious to so many things. A lot of life just passes him right by, but he gets along as best he can.

Me and Blue Moon, the rescue Pit Bull, we have similar limitations and we’re both furry rascals. But most of all, we’re both incredibly lucky that Mrs. Pondero saw something worth redemption in us and allowed us to become a part of her life.

Because outings on the bicycle are about more than miles, I didn’t travel far today. The trip took about five and half hours, but I only pedaled about 30 miles. The agenda included (a) exploring some trails I didn’t get to during last last trip here, (b) searching for a new, nearby, free S24O spot, (c) a coffee brew-up, and (d) a test hang of my new Hennessy Hammock. It was, you might say, multi-objective exploration.

My preparatory study of aerial photos paid off.  I found what appears to be an old home site that was abandoned prior to, or as a part of, land acquisition associated with creation of Lake Ray Roberts. What a lovely place for a homestead! With some strategic clearing (which probably was the case at the time) one could enjoy great views and hilltop breezes. Even now, I found it quite satisfactory.

There are plenty of trees allowing for a variety of hammock orientations. There is also alternations of clear and brushy areas that could allow a breezeway or wind block as desired. At least for an hour or so, testing indicates that laying in a hammock is more comfortable than laying on the hard ground. I don’t think I actually fell asleep, but I was definitely relaxed to the point of obliviousness.

The grassy hilltop view of the lake was a perfect brew-up spot…wind protected and sun-warmed on this windy, chilly morning.

Since this place has been abandoned for years, there are a few hazards to avoid. Cactus, and thorny trees or vines, was prolific.

We have a boil!

Is this man smiling because he has coffee, or because he’s smugly hiding any evidence of chocolate-topped donuts? Hard to say…

Hammock view, with brew-up gear just right of center at the shade/sun interface.

The old home site was surrounded by lovely new spring grass. This will bake to brown when summer arrives, but it’ll still be a good place for an overnighter.

Old foundation beams…

All objectives met, I give myself an “A” on this outing. Now on to planning the S24O…

It was an overcast, misty, NE breezy, 49 degrees when I rolled out after work. The forecast said 30 percent chance of scattered showers for Friday night and Saturday morning. For those of us in north Texas, the 3 year drought-learned response to a weather forecast like that is…

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!…going campin’!

Riding out to the camp site was a little head-windy, but pleasant. Apparently, I nailed the clothing selection.

I arrived at the site just a little before sundown. With the heavy overcast skies, I was rapidly losing light. So, while I could still see, I set about diligently setting up camp.  I scoffed at the short-lived sprinkling rain.

Sleeping quarters were established just as it was almost too dark for a no-flash photo.  With weather protection in place, I turned my attention to campfire contentment and dinner.

Maybe I was just in a nicely protected area. But it seemed like the wind relaxed just like I did as time passed. Food and wood was consumed. Dinner walked a pace just right for shifty tongues of flame and flickering light. Coyotes kicked up a ruckus, and I thought I’d hear them all night. But they suddenly became suspiciously silent.

When the food was gone, the flames shrunk in size and my eyelids dropped.  With the cloud cover the temperature had only dropped to 46 degrees. I had packed well, and would be quite comfortable.  It was a good night in the woods.

Rain woke me at 5:30am. It was a light rain, I was comfortable, and I figured like last night this little shower would quickly pass. It only took a minute to drift back to sleep.

At 6:30am, I woke again. It was still raining…and harder. So I pulled out my phone to look at the weather radar.  Manipulating the little device from the warmth of my bag, I thought about the irony of such technology pressed to service while laying on the ground. Rain was everywhere, and some of it heavy. It was clear there would be no avoidance. I’d run out of food before I’d run out of rain. No lazy camp coffee sippin’ today. There was nothing to do but face the elements.

In the pre-dawn darkness, gear was packed-up wet. I cinched up the pull cord on the hood of my jacket, and set off for another hour and a half riding in the chilly wetness back home. With the rain dripping off my nose, I knew I’d look back to this moment on those dry, dusty, 100+ degree days, and I’d be glad for the experience.

Riding east across the dam

Channel downstream of the dam

East end of the dam looking northeast

Underbiking

Morning on the trail

Green/orange contrast

Pleasing proportions

Quiet lakeside spot

Woods wandering

Rocky shoreline

Trail with a lake view

Red dirt roller

Good spot for a lunch break

Mmmm…samichy

Bud time

A. Homer Hilsen – “Ludere quo velis birota permittit agrestis”

Homer does singletrack

County road, leaves later

If Rantwick had a spring tree contest…

Normally, weekend rides start from home. But today was about exploration, and burning 3 hours in to/from mode would have been too constraining.

Exploration focused on the trail system at the Isle du Bois unit of the Lake Ray Roberts State Park.

These trails are labeled as equestrian trails, but they also allow bicycle, and hiker use. Some portions are rocky, which require careful line selection and speed modulation.

Some portions consist of deep sand, especially portions south of park headquarters. Often it seemed “equestrian trail” might be a technical term meaning long, narrow, winding sand pit. Perhaps most folks, not on a fat bike, walk here.

Of course there is also a significant amount of firm, smooth single/double track trail across open grasslands…

…and in the midst of dense wooded areas.

There were rugged moments spent pondering suspension, and walking moments spent pondering fatter tires. But not a second of willingness to trade the A. Homer Hilsen for anything.

The trail meanders along the edge of Lake Ray Roberts. The water is often obscured by local terrain, trees, or distance. When visible,  however, it demands attention on a clear winter day.

Beaver activity was evident. These tree trunks were all at least 6 inches in diameter.  What are those critters building that would require such massive beams?

Not only did today’s outing provide for several hours of new trail exploration, it also resulted on the identification of several fantastic camp spot options for the next S24O opportunity.

Success.

Weird stuff.

Brooks Swallow for sale.

Chrome rails, honey color, excellent condition, $115 shipped CONUS.

Although it is lighter and more elegantly styled, and it actually works fairly well for me, I decided I prefer the feel of the B17 shape.

I enjoy Friday evenings. That is the time used to plan Saturday outings on the bicycle. I try to plan efficiently, and not to take too much time from other responsibilities. But I’ll confess that sometimes while engaged in other tasks, my mind drifts elsewhere. There are constraints to work within, and a few details to sort out.

Time is a constraint. Most Saturdays, the morning is available. Even so, being out for several hours means I must think about how early to rise. If it’s been a long, hard week, sacrificing saddle time for rest enhances the experience. Time on the bike is also affected by weather.

Any time other than mid-summer, I take a close look at the weather. Temperature and wind direction are factored into duration and route selection. They affect clothing, refreshments, as well as the number and location of rest stops. Sometimes I need a shady hilltop for a place to cool off, and sometimes I need a sunny protected area for a warm up. There’s not much need to study the weather in mid-summer. We know it’ll be hot and dry, the wind will be from the south, and the earliest possible start allows for the most comfortable conditions.

Bike selection is part of the planning process. Lately, the choice is between my Quickbeam and the A. Homer Hilsen. Coasting and spinning, or pure simplicity. In this part of the world, either works pretty well. So the choosing is part of the fun of planning. Sometimes the choice is dependent on the ride purpose.

It might be surprising that I actually plan Saturday outings based on several possible ride objectives. Perhaps, this blog would suggest that my rides are essentially one-dimensional, but they don’t seem that way to me. Some rides are intended to cover more distance with minimal stops. Others are short rides to a special place to spend time there enjoying the spot. I plan outings for breakfast, lunch, or to brew coffee. A few of my rides are focused on exploration, or photographs. The purpose of the ride (among other things) influences route selection.

Selecting a route is probably the most time consuming of my planning tasks. After factoring in the ride purpose, weather, time, and bike selection, I need a place to go. The usual approach is to select from a large number of habitual routes, and try to allow for a tailwind return. But sometimes, I skip route planning and just make it up while pedaling.

Part of the planning activity is devoted to gear. Whether it is camera gear, clothing, hydration, food, or maybe even a book, at least some thought is given to these things. Along with these, there’s the matter of how to carry it all. Most of the time the little Carradice saddlebag is perfect. But sometimes more cargo capacity is required.

I don’t give much thought to contingencies. Still I make sure to have tools, wallet, and a cell phone. For minor mechanical problems, I should be able to make corrections and resume my ride, or return home. For more serious problems, I like to make sure Mrs. Pondero is available to help. Sometimes I’ve gone out when having her rescue me might be a little inconvenient. I usually go anyway, but I almost always think about a possible backup plan.

Finally, I think about preparing my body. For me, this mostly means trying to get plenty of sleep, a good dinner the night before, and a hearty breakfast. I’ve been known to fail on the sleep thing. If that happens, there is often a plan for a post-ride nap. When it comes to personal comforts, I’m pretty good at thinking of everything.

It might sound like a lot of time and trouble, but it is neither. I’ve been riding bicycles for several years now. The Saturday morning bicycle outing is a routine. It almost happens automatically while lubing the chain and checking tire pressure. I dare say that planning an outing doesn’t take as much time as reading about how it is done. Even if it did, I wouldn’t give it up. The planning of it adds pleasure to a bicycle outing, and anticipation is part of the fun.