Dodging Night Crawlers

On a wet day's commute I find I'm dodging squashed frogs, slugs, and creatures battered beyond recognition. Gross, I know.

Worms are sickly looking, all pink and squishy, unsightly. But the long, dark headed night crawler is in a class of its own. There's something about their fortitude, the utter determination to get somewhere. Stretch and contract; lengthen and pull up their hiney in one fell swoop. Constantly on the move. I yield to the night crawler.

Maybe it's because as a child my father would give us a penny for every one we captured. He sold the creatures as fishing bait at his mom & pop store. There was something exciting, going out on a dark and dewy summer night with flashlight in hand. I'd look for the "nighties" laying on the grass. It took a quick hand to swipe the slimy buggers before they madly retreated into the ground, but we were youngsters on a mission. I was pretty good at it too, earning up to 25 pennies at a time.

This determined night crawler moved 12" by the time I was done photographing.

If you see me wavering on the asphalt, please give me a wide berth. It could be I've lost my balance or maybe I'm dodging the low life, giving the night crawler one last chance.

Moose on the Loose

Photo credit: Horizons North

Because my husband regularly commutes along the Winooski River, he often encounters deer, woodchucks, even fly-fishermen in hipwaders standing in the water. But the other day something swimming caught his attention and he realized a moose was heading towards him. He stopped his bike, hardly believing what he saw, but also to give the mammal room should the moose lumber up the bank. But fortunately, the same instance the animal saw my husband and headed back the way he came. The moose eventually stood on the far bank, dripping wet, all leggy 8 feet of him.. "He was a big boy!", exclaimed my husband as he called home immediately after he got to his office. "With 6" antlers."

I think I would've peed my pants had the moose bumbled toward me!

Riding in the Heat

It was flippin' hot this past Sunday. I was all smiles though, after a hot morning walk with my adventure buddy who was in town for a family celebration. We ironed out more details on our French Affair. After a week of hut-to-hut hiking in Zermatt we'll catch a train ride to Provence. We agreed to take it easy, once there. Enjoy the sights, drink wine, pedal about 50k a day. There is no end to the Roman fortifications spread around the region - that's my primary love. Patty is interested in a Mediterranean ride. But we're going without a specific itinerary to remain flexible, should something catch our fancy en route.

To get in the mood, later that Sunday after my girlfriend went to play bocce with family (practice for petanque in France?) I headed to the lake. I wore a bathing suit and beached it with our youngest boy, skipping stones and dipping in 52F Lake Champlain. Barely able to breathe: barely clothed. I rode home in a wet suit, pulling shorts on for coverage. It was definitely summer-like weather. Which means August arrives in the near future - that much closer to a plane flight over the Atlantic!

Germany - Order and Crossing the Wall

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48 miles – Monday, August 22

Today’s journey through rolling hills was what I’d envisioned the German countryside to be like. Entire villages cluster the hillsides, all with matching red tile roofs. Houses are multi-story with white stucco crisscrossed woodwork painted dark brown. Cobblestones and brick streets snake through town only to change back to asphalt upon leaving – very picturesque.

We passed through the city of Kassel. There is much industrialization, a Mercedes Benz tower, the smell of hops indicating a brewery. Andy noticed a BMW dealership, not out of the ordinary in Germany, but the showroom vehicle displayed a bike rack and bike. What we consider status cars in the U.S., like Mercedes and BMW, are utilitarian here. Some pull trailers; others are used for tailgate picnics or everyday shopping.

40 miles – Tuesday, August 23

Late morning we walked into town and browsed, bought groceries, and did a couple errands. It would be hard not to notice how much Germans love flowers (blumen), especially red geraniums. Blumen are sold on roadsides or in huge nurseries.  Geraniums overflow window boxes, sometimes from every glass pane on the brown and white homes. It’s rather prim and proper, yet nonetheless appealing.


In a supermarket parking lot an old woman was stooped over two sacks. She gestured, speaking wildly that she needed help. That was easily understood, even with the language barrier. We rushed to her aid, explaining that we didn’t speak German, but would carry her bags. Her eyes sparkled. As she limped along, she said, “mein haus” pointing with her cane. Andy held her arm as she puttered along.  We wondered just how far her house was. In the quiet heat of the morning we spoke a few words, telling her where we were from and how we were traveling. From time to time she nodded and said “Kentucky” and “Texas” though we couldn’t understand enough to tell if she had visited, knew relatives there, or was just mentioning states she had heard of. In a few minutes we reached her front gate - a mere block from the market - and helped her to the door. She beamed and said “danke” (thank you) more times than were necessary. When Andy and I walked away we wondered how the elderly woman managed. She couldn’t carry her own food and little each time. We presumed she enlisted assistance on a regular basis.

We climbed a river valley, ascended small villages each one seemingly more pristine and colorful than the next. The sweet scent of hay filled the afternoon, its aroma like heated barley malt. At the crest of the rise we stopped and photographed an old barn, its timber, brick, and mud-mortar construction showing signs of wear. Many of the buildings are over 200 years old. We can tell by etchings above the doors.

For a while my reverie was focused on the road shoulders, filled with plums looking like purple marbles. Fat snails also hovered on the white line like warts on the pavement. I had been pedaling in this manner, contemplating the snail’s tracks, wondering whether they were starting out on the long journey across the highway or had miraculously survived the haul and were inching the last legs to safety, when the road gradually sloped downhill. I looked up and smiled. It was time for a rewarding downhill coast.

Caught up in the deserved descent, I couldn't understand why Andy pulled off the highway shortly afterwards, braking in mid-stream. A few seconds later goose bumps prickled my torso as a profound realization sank in. I halted too. Only five years before the Berlin Wall came down. In this region this was all that remained of the border with East Germany. A cement marker stood 8ft high; a 12ft mesh black fence had once continued all the across the asphalt, now torn away in spots with gaping holes. The line cut into the forest, disappearing in each direction over distant hills..

We got off the bicycles and walked the two waffle-like cement tracks on the East German side. It went on as far as we could see. This was most likely where jeeps patrolled the border, searching the many who tried to escape to the West. Andy and I talked briefly about the dispute between Germany and the Soviet Union over the East German territory before the Berlin Wall was erected in the 1950’s. After contemplating this historic spot for some time, we eventually pedaled onward.

The division between the former two countries couldn’t be more apparent. Highway quality deteriorated. In the next town new businesses sprang up.  Houses were being repaired. A road was being bull-dozed to bypass the village. Town centers still had cobbled streets, but were in bad shape.  If small stones hadn’t filled in gaping holes, my tires would have certainly gotten stuck, pitching me over the handle bars. It was an odd feeling to be in a country where only 5 years ago we would be refused entrance. Much is going on in building and reparation – and much is still to be done – to bring the countryside up to the German standard. The country has taken on a huge challenge.

Walk & Roll Week

Vermont's area schools celebrated Walk & Roll week in conjunction with Bike to Work week. It's our version to get kids and parents on two wheels for the commute to school.

As added enticement there are healthy treats, a helmet raffle, and reflectors and pencils to give away.

Some of the parent volunteers never took off their helmets. I found it quite amusing, yet brilliant too. It's part of their everyday attire. There are some super moms/dads who bike with 3 kids and bring cakes, class snacks, etc. as part of their daily routine.

Both racks filled up quickly. Though there were more bikes than usual, this is a common sight at my son's elementary school.

Yours truly, talking up the watermelon. One child ate 6 pieces. I helped monitor the table and provided a receptacle for the rinds. I also praised the parents for walking and rolling with their kids.

The children and parents continued riding all week, tracking statistics in classrooms.

As a school they are competing to earn their name on a trophy to be displayed for all to see.

A plucky family rode their cargo bike. One child held the sign while mom negotiated the streets.

I said to one father about how nice it was to see him riding with his daughter. "It  must make Kate pretty happy."

His reply, "Yeah, and it's not that hard for me either. Maybe I'll do this more often."

Going to Camp

Going to my family's camp from our house starts with 1.5 miles of city biking through Burlington's bricky downtown to connect with the waterfront path. Then it's smooth sailing for four miles along the former rail way line. On a Saturday morning the trail brims with all types of travelers. We are lucky to have this world class access to beaches, parks, neighborhoods, and camps along Lake Champlain. Oh, and you couldn't beat the abundant blooming trillium guiding my way.

A Mother's Day Find

My husband and I set off for a Mother's Day morning ride. We have a neighbor that often puts free stuff on his front lawn. Immediately my eye was drawn to this bike rack. While it can only hold three bikes, it will go a long way toward organizing the garage. I also like it's portability.

I received flowers, chocolate, and yummy Black Magic Blend coffee for Mother's Day, all from my awesome husband. Each of which is a welcome pleasure. I didn't get anything bikey—not that I'm complaining. To find this rack was serendipitous. (We bike lovers are easily amused.) After hefting it homeward we continued the ride.

Later, I added the flower. Betch 'ya can't guess which slot is for the girly bike?