Someone asked recently if commuting cyclists concentrate grimly on getting to work as fast as possible or 'stop to smell the roses'.
As a fat unfit 55-yo who sometimes gets off and walks up steep hills without exhibiting a due sense of shame, I am scarcely representative of this n.g. (Though I have stopped cycling on pavements since reading postings here). Still..
This morning (Monday 11/07) I decided to set out earlier than usual as I wanted to check out a side-road between Newtownards and Dundonald. So I found myself cruising up the eastern shore of Strangford Lough just as the orange sun rose up over the horizon behind me:
The lough was totally still, a mirror surface transformed into pastel shades of pink and bright blue. Over on the western shore toward Comber and Killinchy bright orange fires flashed as the sun hit windows and such. Far away in the haze rose the great grey giants of the Mountains of Mourne. Add in ducks on the water and rabbits, scuttling for their burrows rather than appearing as eviscerated roadkill, and I have to wonder why no-one was selling tickets.
Oh and the detour down Greengraves Road proved worthwhile, too.
This morning (Monday 11/07) I decided to set out earlier than usual as I wanted to check out a side-road between Newtownards and Dundonald. So I found myself cruising up the eastern shore of Strangford Lough just as the orange sun rose up over the horizon behind me:
The lough was totally still, a mirror surface transformed into pastel shades of pink and bright blue. Over on the western shore toward Comber and Killinchy bright orange fires flashed as the sun hit windows and such. Far away in the haze rose the great grey giants of the Mountains of Mourne. Add in ducks on the water and rabbits, scuttling for their burrows rather than appearing as eviscerated roadkill, and I have to wonder why no-one was selling tickets.
I know just what you mean. On the one day this year I cycled through the night, I crossed a reservoir in the southern uplands just at dawn, and it was utterly, gobsmackingly beautiful, the water dead flat without the smallest stirring and, perfectly in the soft, lambent light, reflecting the forests and hills which surrounded it.
Wonderful.
-- [email hidden] (Simon Brooke) http://www.jasmine.org.uk/~simon/ Copyright (c) Simon Brooke; All rights reserved. Permission is granted to transfer this message via UUCP or NNTP and to store it for the purpose of archiving or further transfer. Permission is explicitly denied to use this message as part of a 'Web Forum', or to transfer it by HTTP.
Someone asked recently if commuting cyclists concentrate grimly on getting to work as fast as possible or 'stop to smell the roses'.
As a fat unfit 55-yo who sometimes gets off and walks up steep hills without exhibiting a due sense of shame, I am scarcely representative of this n.g. (Though I have stopped cycling on pavements since reading postings here). Still..
This morning (Monday 11/07) I decided to set out earlier than usual as I wanted to check out a side-road between Newtownards and Dundonald. So I found myself cruising up the eastern shore of Strangford Lough just as the orange sun rose up over the horizon behind me:
The lough was totally still, a mirror surface transformed into pastel shades of pink and bright blue. Over on the western shore toward Comber and Killinchy bright orange fires flashed as the sun hit windows and such. Far away in the haze rose the great grey giants of the Mountains of Mourne. Add in ducks on the water and rabbits, scuttling for their burrows rather than appearing as eviscerated roadkill, and I have to wonder why no-one was selling tickets.
Oh and the detour down Greengraves Road proved worthwhile, too.
In peace
It's a bit off my normal commute, but I suppose I could make a small detour for an experience like that.
I know just what you mean. On the one day this year I cycled through the night, I crossed a reservoir in the southern uplands just at dawn, and it was utterly, gobsmackingly beautiful, the water dead flat without the smallest stirring and, perfectly in the soft, lambent light, reflecting the forests and hills which surrounded it.
Wonderful.
One of my favourite commutes ever was a very short hop around the back of Arthur's Seat. On the right is a small loch which on this particular spring morning had wisps of fog rising off it. With the sunlight at the same time and the clean, clear air elsewhere it was a scene that most film producers would kill for.
Pity the tin canners who rarely get to notice these things. :-)
So I found myself cruising up the eastern shore of Strangford Lough just as the orange sun rose up over the horizon behind me:
The lough was totally still, a mirror surface transformed into pastel shades of pink and bright blue. Over on the western shore toward Comber and Killinchy bright orange fires flashed as the sun hit windows and such. Far away in the haze rose the great grey giants of the Mountains of Mourne. Add in ducks on the water and rabbits, scuttling for their burrows rather than appearing as eviscerated roadkill, and I have to wonder why no-one was selling tickets.
Just beautiful. I had a morning like that walking in Scotland earlier in the year. Sometimes the natural beauty surrounding us leaves me entirely lost for words.
Best wishes, -- ,, (**)PeeWiglet~~ / \ / \ pee AT [guessthisbit].co.uk
