“Days and months are travellers of eternity. So are the years that pass by. Those who steer a boat across the sea, or drive a horse over the earth till they succumb to the weight of years, spend every minute of their lives travelling. There are a great number of ancients, too, who died on the road. I myself have been tempted by the cloud-moving wind---filled with a strong desire to wander.”—BashÅ.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
The Phoenix Trail (railway track reborn as cyclepath)
I think I'd have this nagging doubt in the back of my mind that a train was still going to come along somehow, you know, like someone didn't get the message or something. You'd be riding your bike, and you'd look back, and suddenly a train would be baring down on you on the path behind you. That's sad, I know.
Well, as a pedestrian I would not fear the train coming. At least it would make a noise. On that path I was suddenly overtaken by an elderly man on a bicycle (elderly means older than me). It clearly says on the sign that I reproduced that cyclists should give warning by ringing their bells. But it seems bells are no longer fitted. He wished me good morning when he was an inch away. I nearly jumped out of my skin.
As you may remember from a few posts of mine, I find this sort of thing irresistible. It combines my slightly geekish love of railway lines, especially disused ones, with my love of wandering through the countryside.
Deep in the country on such paths you will always meet an old man on a bike. He is invariably 75, and will tell you how he spent his youth walking between the villages looking for work when the paths were the only road there was, and now rides the same tracks because 'it's good for his heart'. (ie, he gets bored at home and his wife doesn't want him in the way). I always stop to listen. One day I fear (or hope) that I will be that old man.
The funghi are interesting. I have seen very similar types in and close to woodland, in particular where beech trees may be found.
It looks like the Phoenix Cycle Trail has been reborn for off-road and mixti-cycles. The terrain would allow a satisfying sweeping "swish" from the circulation of deep cut tyres.
Hi Zacl. Yes, the lichen were growing on hedgerow trees, but I don’t know what kind they were. The sign is particular in prohibiting "motorbikes", which would generate ruts in the path and change its quiet character.
CIngram, I too wonder if I am or will be that old man, but I’m frightened to ride a bike on any road with motor traffic, and glad to be unburdened by having one at all. Don't have a place to keep one, even.
CIngram, I went back to the same trail and did meet the man you refer to. You have the gift of prophecy (or time travel, like Bryan). So I shall be telling The Tale of the Ancient Bicyclist in a new post.
“Vincent” is the unreliable narrator of these occasional pieces, in which mere fact is sometimes scorned for the sake of a greater truth, if it can be found.
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9 comments:
Without words for a change.
I think I'd have this nagging doubt in the back of my mind that a train was still going to come along somehow, you know, like someone didn't get the message or something. You'd be riding your bike, and you'd look back, and suddenly a train would be baring down on you on the path behind you. That's sad, I know.
Well, as a pedestrian I would not fear the train coming. At least it would make a noise. On that path I was suddenly overtaken by an elderly man on a bicycle (elderly means older than me). It clearly says on the sign that I reproduced that cyclists should give warning by ringing their bells. But it seems bells are no longer fitted. He wished me good morning when he was an inch away. I nearly jumped out of my skin.
As you may remember from a few posts of mine, I find this sort of thing irresistible. It combines my slightly geekish love of railway lines, especially disused ones, with my love of wandering through the countryside.
Deep in the country on such paths you will always meet an old man on a bike. He is invariably 75, and will tell you how he spent his youth walking between the villages looking for work when the paths were the only road there was, and now rides the same tracks because 'it's good for his heart'. (ie, he gets bored at home and his wife doesn't want him in the way). I always stop to listen. One day I fear (or hope) that I will be that old man.
Lovely trail! Beautiful pictures.
The funghi are interesting. I have seen very similar types in and close to woodland, in particular where beech trees may be found.
It looks like the Phoenix Cycle Trail has been reborn for off-road and mixti-cycles. The terrain would allow a satisfying sweeping "swish" from the circulation of deep cut tyres.
Hi Zacl. Yes, the lichen were growing on hedgerow trees, but I don’t know what kind they were. The sign is particular in prohibiting "motorbikes", which would generate ruts in the path and change its quiet character.
CIngram, I too wonder if I am or will be that old man, but I’m frightened to ride a bike on any road with motor traffic, and glad to be unburdened by having one at all. Don't have a place to keep one, even.
Wonderful! i had trouble loading yesterday, so i'm late to the party, but absolutely love these, particularly the last of the lichens.
CIngram, I went back to the same trail and did meet the man you refer to. You have the gift of prophecy (or time travel, like Bryan). So I shall be telling The Tale of the Ancient Bicyclist in a new post.
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