And some days, when the novel writing is going well and the thunder rolls, you just crack open a beer and keep writing. I’ll run tomorrow.
This sweet little book arrived today. Includes an essay I wrote for The Nervous Breakdown.com. From The History Press.
Ten years ago I spent what I thought was an obscene amount of money on this red steed. Oh the places we have gone, the joy, the blood, and the bruises. Priceless.
It was, by far, the most glorious day I’ve spent in a national park. Warm, sunny. And this road …
Going to the Sun Road, Glacier National Park, was still closed to automobile traffic. (There’s still a big drift to plow through.)
This means the bikes get all the glory, and all the road.
17 miles uphill. But going slow, in this case, was a good thing.
I’m feeling pretty lucky that I get to be an artist in residence in this spectacular place later this summer.
Big vistas, little details.
The temperature dropped, the snow started to appear.
The wind pushed us from behind (which foretold of a windy descent). And then we were there, at Logan’s Pass. A parking lot with a few bikes. The visitor’s center was
buried in snow.
As we descended, cyclists of all ages and abilities were still working their way up the road. Makes you wonder what the world would be like, and how we would see it, if roads were gated more often.
Hot paws. #olddogs #shortwalks
Nothing says spring like hail burying your seedlings. Peas fared well, though.
Friday night ride on hidden treasure.