Snaky days my friends, and the summer yet not arrived? Snakier soon for certain. Joey B and I saw a juvenile Cottonmouth on the Goose Pond trail the other day, out there where the little toddlers run ahead of their waddling parents, and little companion dogs rush belligerently to the ends of leashes. Snakes, snakes, snakes, everybody watch for snakes.
S’quatch blasted over this little sweetheart, not touching it, but causing it to jump and spin so in the next moment I passed it we both, snake and I, were coiled in menacing postures. I tacked around her in detente and called ahead to S’quatch, whom I knew I could trust to take my phone to an uncomfortably close distance and get this picture.
And there we were, goofing around with a poisonous snake when none other than Bill O came steaming down the trail. I could make out the red, white, and green Joe’s jersey through the trees, but it took another moment to recognize that relaxed, low-slung posture of Mr. Forest himself.
So there I was, at the end of a beautiful day with the darkly glowing afternoon sun shining through the pines. After weeks of everything but a bike ride being the most important thing, it is just that easy. Meet a friend, see a snake, find another friend, then fox squirrel, sinkhole, and churning white powder sand out of corners and counter-steering through washed out lines. A simple, magnificent, bike ride.
Fast enough to know better, too slow to care,