January 30, 2023
Stupidity-free days: zero
Rachael and I have a streak going, but not a good one. It seems like every day or so one or the other of us forgets something of consequence or takes an ill-advised step that uncharitable types might call stupid. We’re sure that none of you is one of those uncharitable types, but we do need to tighten up our act a bit to protect ourselves from self-harm. With that in mind, I’m thinking we should start keeping track of how we’re doing by counting how many days it’s been since we’ve done something stupid.
Today’s not one of those days, unfortunately. At the end of the day, our stupidity-free day count sits where it stood at each of the last several days: zero. My bad, this time.
The day gets off to a promising start though, when working with Kaiser to have a prescription sent down to a local pharmacist. By 10:30 I’m back home from Safeway, a one-month refill in hand that I’ll start in on tomorrow morning. In the meantime, another light ride on the Loop seems like the right plan. Rachael takes off on her own for a ride out Oro Valley, and I leave not long afterwards with the lake near Marana as the goal. I’m not sure if 40 miles will work or not, but if it does I’m hopeful that those swallows will still be swooping around above the water snagging flies. With more time and patience, maybe I can get a convincing shot this time.
| Heart | 6 | Comment | 0 | Link |
About a mile into the ride I’m startled to see a roadrunner perched on the fence railing right beside the path. I don’t expect he’ll stay put long enough for a shot - he looks about set to leap into the void - but I’m pleasantly surprised when I stop, face him, and stealthily reach for the camera in the back of my shirt that he looks my way but doesn’t budge.
It’s not there. Somehow I made it out the door without the camera, for what I think is the first time this winter. Stupid! I softly curse myself, grit my teeth, and pull out my older generation Samsung with its crappy 10x digital zoom. He’s close enough that even with this camera I get a passable shot, but it’s impossible not to imagine the missed opportunity.
I’ve a mind to turn back home to retrieve the camera, but there’s not really time for that. I rationalize to myself that I probably won’t see any other interesting birds on this trip anyway, and the main point was to get some miles in and test my condition.
So I ride on. And a quarter mile later I come to the second fine bird sighting of the day - a kestrel perched on a utility line over the wash, not far at all from where I’m standing. Grr.
Kestrels are colorful little hawks, and frustrating things to get a good shot of because they keep their distance. The typical scenario is to spot one fifty or a hundred yards ahead, close enough to recognize but too far for a photo; but once I get close enough and reach for the camera he soars off and moves down the line another fifty yards. A big tease.
Today though is different. This bird just sits there, apparently unconcerned by my proximity. I soon realize the reason - he’s caught a meal, and it’s apparently snagged on the line in front of him. Every few seconds he dips down, nips a bite, and lifts his head up to swallow it. This would make a great still, or even a video - with the right camera. Instead, we have this:
As it turns out, this is a pretty fine day for the birds. I see several smaller birds that look worth a stop, but I don’t bother because I know it’s pointless. Not only will it be fruitless to try for a good photo, I won’t be able to zoom in enough to identify what the silly thing is.
It gradually sinks in that biking out to Marana is the wrong plan under the circumstances. The way things are going I’d get out there and see the sky full of swallows and the lake filled with cinnamon teals and eared grebes. It would drive me nuts. Instead, I decide to turn off and bike up Oro Valley, with the thought that I’ll meet up with Rachael and bike home with her.
And then, just to rub more salt in the wound a half mile up Oro Valley I see a large hawk just ahead. Just sitting there in his tree begging for me to take its photo. So I do, and after several attempts obtain the excellent image you see below. Finally he flies off, soaring down into the wash and disappearing into the mesquites and flashing his tail at me. It appears to have white outer tail feathers, which doesn’t correspond to any of the hawks I know of. At least then I can look this bird up and hopefully identify it. When I get home though and research all the hawks known to frequent Arizona, none of them has a tail like this. A dead end.
| Heart | 1 | Comment | 0 | Link |
A few miles further on I see that Rachael’s about a half mile ahead, coming my way. I text her to meet me at the next stop to put her on alert. Not long afterward she comes into view, and by chance we meet precisely by a bench. We sit down and share our news. I tell her of the three excellent bird sightings I’ve just witnessed, and why I’m so unhappy about them.
She sympathizes, but quickly turns the conversation to her big news: another CycleBlaze meetup! She was just biking along minding her own business and racking up the miles when a voice shouted out to her: Rachael!
It’s Wendy Beaudoin, down for the winter from Vancouver Island (and what’s in the water supply up that way that it produces so many bike tourists, anyway?). She knew we were down here because she follows the blogs and has had her eye out for a Bike Friday. Amazing luck - she was stopped right at the end of her ride, and it’s nearly the end of our stay here.
That Rachael - good on roadrunners, good on CycleBlazers. What a talent!
While we sit there, Rachael receives a message from Wendy. I grab the phone from her and send Wendy an invitation to get together tomorrow for a ride or a meal, and then we head for home. I lead the way, keeping a good pace and feeling gratified by how well I’m doing today compared to yesterday. Apparently it helped just knowing that I’ve got the right meds to start in on in the morning.
And then, five miles from home I call for a stop for a water break; and almost the instant we start up again I realize I’m under attack again. That’s such a perplexing thing about this condition - its complete unpredictability. A typical scenario is that I’ll feel fine all the way up a significant climb, and as soon as we’ve crossed over and started the descent I realize I’ve been stricken again. Makes no sense.
So I stop almost immediately, tell Rachael to head on home, and then pull of at Silverbell Lake to find a picnic table to lie down on. Fortunately the arrhythmia stops just seconds after I’ve gone prone. I lie there for a few minutes more to make sure it’s stopped for good, and then I hear a voice behind me. It’s the grizzled fisherman who’d been casting his line not far from me. He’s apparently had an eye on me, and calls out “Hey buddy - are you OK?”. I am of course, and reassure him that I just felt like lying down and enjoying the sun for a few minutes, and then I bike off a minute later. It’s one of the many things I love about Tucson - people really seem to care and to be watching out for each other here. It’s quite a special place, really.
Twenty minutes later I’m home and wheeling the bike into the house and realize I’ve been even stupider than I thought today. My pannier’s not on the bike, so I’d forgotten that too. No spare, no pump. Double dumb.
Maybe hoping for a string of stupidity-free days is too ambitious. Maybe we should just be hoping for a few clean hours to start with.
Ride stats today: 45 miles, 1,100’; for the tour: 1,381 miles, 46,600’
Today's ride: 45 miles (72 km)
Total: 1,339 miles (2,155 km)
| Rate this entry's writing | Heart | 14 |
| Comment on this entry | Comment | 5 |
1 year ago
1 year ago
1 year ago
1 year ago