Sunday, December 11, 2016

white and grey

We are headfirst into the days of drear. Roads are either wet or icy and looking at the pictures from summer I long for wind and yellow lines. The grey sneaks up so fast. The sun melts on the horizon and a blanket of cloud looms, threatening ominous precipitation. When a light ekes out between, reminding me of summer, a cold wind seeps through my clothes edging out any thoughts of a winter ride.

Plan and maps for 2017 will start soon. Highlighters, google and wish lists will emerge with the hope of an early spring. The bikes are tucked away now...trickle chargers where necessary - oil changes on garage days...biker movies and stories get us through.

Wednesday, November 2, 2016


He's asked me many times to come..but my love of dirt biking usually loses over time to chill..or clean the house...or make cookies. Last Sunday, with the aforementioned needing done, I cast aside any guilt or nagging feelings and headed to the end of No. 8 Road...past No Trespassing Signs and ominous warnings to arrive at dunes and a course that was rough and puddled.

The sun was shining and attempting to dry up the waterlogged land. Costumes abounded and some without much more than skivvies as the rule is you ride with one - or you take it all off. The temperature was at 9 celsius so it was obvious from the ruddy back and legs how tough the course was in the cool of fall.

We headed to the jump to catch the thrill of the land and sometimes the fall down the embankment of sand.

This day topped many...and I am so glad I came home to a To-Do list rather than miss out!

Wednesday, October 19, 2016

When you embark on any journey, you think you have an idea of how things will go. We often plan the landmarks and route.  We want things to be tidy, ordered and when we want them.  Life and travel rarely roll this way.

We had no idea what we were getting into, both in our wedding vows or our expedition across Canada. We had maps for both, but adjusted as necessary. We stopped more frequently for hot water and bathroom breaks...we adjusted to each other's sleep and eating habits. There were times I felt completely spent and I am more certain he did as well. Sick babies, four little ones, endless driving and juggling, pressing on past Portage La Prairie for 3 more hours onto Lester Beach...pushing on to Sudbury hungry, thirsty and depleted, agonizing over big decisions that threatened the life of our youngest, empty nest for almost a week and back to a fuller house...

We had no idea what we were getting into...but I wouldn't change a thing - and I would not want to have known, for fear and over-planning might have weakened the muscles I built at staying the course when things were hard...I might have carried too much equipment and tired sooner, or I might have opted not to start.

Marriage parallels a journey...or in our case, a Canadian Epic Adventure, 'eh!
Traveling through New York state was surreal for me. It was not unlike much of rural Canada. Roads snaking through small towns with diners and farm equipment dealers. We did hear a really thick New Jersey accent emanating from a hair-slicked back gentleman in an older cadillac with his bouffant touting companion powdering her nose (who does that anymore??) and attempting to apply lipstick on the ferry jaunt to Essex. We wanted to record his voice as it sounded out of a movie.

We press on and now head north to Niagara Falls.

Nothing could have prepared me for Niagara. Well...actually - perhaps pictures of the city could have - because when we arrive at Clifton Hill parking lot the kitch began with the dinosaurs and putting green and continued through streets of Las Vegas like attractions. I had only ever seen the falls themselves in photos. They are breathtaking, spectacular and a wonder to behold. I had no idea they were part of the theme-park. The juxtaposition could not have been more apparent.

The mist rising on the rushing cascade...the immeasurable beauty of nature in sight and sound was magnificent. Built around this wonder are spectacles so wacky and absurd, like an amusement park, I am unsettled.

The discordance disturbs me. We sure know how to wreck a place. As if the falls themselves needed something else to lure tourists. Meanwhile Norman is enjoying this to the max. He loves the cheese and tucks into tourist shops and magic stores. Although bloated in the cheese, I should clarify the falls are the highlight for him too and the boat ride around them is perfect.

We stayed in Niagara on the Lake...very touristy and with just the right amount of trendy gluten-free bakeries, bistros and organic markets to entice the tap of the debit and visa cards.

The town itself is bustling with people and although we are minutes away from one of the most amazing wonders I have ever seen, most seem preoccupied with finding the right t-shirt or taking a selfie with the horse-drawn carriage or the manicured hanging baskets in the background.

We experience our second rain-storm on the way from the falls on our last night and I am grateful that we have not needed rain-gear after Calgary.

No more words needed. This is tucked in my heart and the last picture of the most amazing journey.

Monday, October 17, 2016

Vermont and New York!!!

Like many marriages, you plan things out loosely and often you are rerouted. We divert our trip south and are in Burlington, Vermont where we are conspicuous as "not from around here" without the ubiquitous attire of white sneakers, polo shirts and khaki shorts. I am used to blending in to my surroundings and I feel slight discomfort at confused looks.

The city itself is sublime with old buildings and icons the foreground for Lake Champlain. The city is old and quaint and preppy, akin to the people.

There is no lingering here as the next day we are bound for Lake Placid and beyond. We leave early for the ferry to Essex, New York and cross the lake to another quaint village with essing tarmac and magnificent views. The state shares it name with such a big city, but there is no hint of crowding or hurrying through the villages and hamlets.

We are now in Amish country and rural way of life is evident from the country stores and vendors selling tomatoes and flowers on the roads.

Lake Placid is our 4th Olympic City - and has actually twice hosted the games. You can see the ski jumps looming from around a bend and then you happen upon the city. There is little to see so we press on and find those roads that transfix and energize.

We hole up the night at a roadside motel that is clean, quaint and has great linens. We have been travelling for several weeks now and I am succumbing to the heat. Our meal is something microwaved, fruit and pretzels

We are now anticipating Niagara Falls in its glory.

Friday, October 14, 2016

Quebec still

I am in love with Montreal and its modern art and ideas tucked into old world style. Churches abound - though religion is not apparent. Police appear subversive in their khaki pants instead of uniforms. It is their statement to the city as they are forced to work without a contract.

The mix of many cultures become a fusion of language that is unique and restaurants and bistros attempt to capitalize on this.

As we press on to Quebec City, I have left my heart in Montreal. I feel I met a long-lost relative that others had disparaged and yet the whole time they were the cool uncle that gets you into venues at the nod of a head and  everyone reveres. I am ashamed that I had let others' opinion shape mine of this city.

Quebec City was more like the aunt. The historian of the family with the old walled city holding charm of yesteryear with the re-branding of 2016. It is the cradle of French civiliation in North America and continues to remind the rest of Canada of its heritage.

Shops luring tourists sit in the midst of the oldest home in the city. The plaque says 1659 and it now a restaurant.  Some streets are narrow and the outside walls house the Frontenac Hotel and canons. The courtyard provides a spectacular view of the city and enemy targets.

We poke around in shops, but the sites for us are the old alleys and cobblestone walks,. Though cars are permitted, there are signs indicating two wheels with motors are not. In typical Norman fashion he pretends to ignore these, but eventually relents at the thought of having the bike towed. We walk the streets where "o Canada" was penned (or so says a brass sign on an old brick front).

We read of days of trade, sickness and politics. We venture outside the walls to a grocer that is the oldest in North America, Epicier JA Moisan (1871) and we both are enamored with the wooden display shelves and old world feel.  We pay homage at a graveyard that housed many thousand though has only 313 markers in place. I  never saw someone reach much past 50. It is worth my time to consider these builders of my freedom.

Our lodging is in a 3-story walk-up in a working class neighbourhood and we walk to trendy gentrified areas with ubiquitous cafes, bistros and bong stores. We wander, taking in the sites and sounds and churches. I am not surprised to find a soccer field with its own chapel in the corner. I would have been the week before, but Quebec and Catholics in particular show their stuff here.

Quebec is marvelous and has uncovered prejudice and judgement that were not my own to carry. I am indebted at having lightened that load.

Friday, September 30, 2016

Montreal has lived up to its reputation. A place where modern art and history synchronize. The clamor of the city in harmony with the ubiquitous churches offering peaceful refuge. It is also motorcycle friendly, with free parking downtown as well as creative parking everywhere!

The summer is construction season and many of the sites need navigation through plywood walkways and makeshift lanes. The Old Port is beautiful. The buildings of intricate design and immaculate gardens abound. We are enchanted by narrow streets with cafes and a sense of the times of yesteryear.

We visit the clock tower, the first observation point of those entering the city. We happen upon Rue de Remembrance with the largest graveyard I have seen. We begin where there are only headstones of various shapes and sizes, in somewhat chaotic arrangement as there does not appear to have uniform spacing. There are family plots with stairs to the area, not to be outdone by a sarcophagus looming behind. There is an plan, inasmuch as heritage, and we see the Japanese area, orderly and well appointed. There is Russian, Italian, Jewish and at the point we realize how truly large this place is when we have wandered and are not sure of the exit.

We find Schwartz's deli, apparently a must, and he says the sandwich did not disappoint. I am more taken with the view from the deli across the street. A dilapidated, graffiti ridden building that really isn't out of place except for the lineup of tourists from all over the world have not shamed or influenced the owner to change a thing. I love that! The deli itself is well-used and tired, but the outcry if it was changed I expect, would never be tolerated.

We also find our way to Mile End - the "hip" part of town that boasts artists, musicians, boutiques and cafes. At one time described as the heart of the independent music scene in Montreal it is also the Jewish area of the city and payos are abundant. We park the bike on a side street and see two young girls conspiratorially whispering as they surreptitiously watch us shed helmets and jackets. When I smile and wave they quickly look away, though I can hear a faint giggle confirming their naughtiness at their voyeurism.

The houses are walk-ups that encroach the street, very much like Brooklyn. Bicycles of all sizes are chained to decks on each level, curtains wave out open windows and the sound of babies crying and mothers scolding are the backdrop of our walk.

Tuesday, September 27, 2016

nous sommes ici

La Belle Province it is! Picturesque rural plots as we edge toward Montreal. We are rejuvenated at the conquest of our travel this far, only to have it drained into panic as the bike is showing signs of overheating in rush hour.

I am surprisingly, nonplussed at the chaotic weaving of cars and buses...having a large city bus brush my pant leg - making his own lane - it feels like carpe diem. Do what is necessary - and yet I sense no anger or frustration - more an observation of the creativity of wending your way through a parking lot. A fiat rides a curb - three cars abreast in two lanes..I am enjoying this, while trying to locate landmarks to our destination.

It is now critical that we stop and we tuck into a Macdonald's parking lot and bask in shade and observe the bedlam. We navigate to our apartment for the next few days, quickly change and armed with cameras we take to the streets.

It feels foreign immediately. The signs are all in French, and old churches and buildings abound in the area. We are in Mont Royal area and the kaleidescope of ever changing beauty has me looking in every direction. Filles/Garcon entrances at a school, Notre Dame College and finally we are at Saint-Joseph's Oratory of Mount Royal.

This took our breath away...not only was it hundreds and hundreds of steps to get to the top...but when you looked out from the terrace Montreal was in all its glory like a skirt spread on a picnic blanket. We had been in the city for less than two hours and the sounds and sights were proving to be well worth 5,000km journey. 

Tuesday, September 20, 2016

Mid years

We head out of Sudbury to the bucolic setting against Highway 1. Skiffs of pollen dust the air and the sky is deep-steel blue. The drone of the motor mixed with my playlist has taken on the familiarity, not unlike the sounds of a household with the furnace and dishwasher providing background noise.

Thoughts creep in that I wish I could be doing more...driving or navigating. This is not a new sensation as I recollect the years of babies and play-dates, water fights and swings. Then too, I tried to wrestle the feeling of wanting to contribute, and I couldn't. 

Well... I did, and I could probably navigate the BMW, though I would still need him to be the grounding...I am quite far from reaching the ground...even on tiptoes. 

Suddenly we are flying through Ottawa, and much like teenagers, you need to go with the flow of traffic...stay alert and keep your confidence. It was as though my headphones were turned to full blast and the cacophony provoked a tension throughout me. I found myself gripping knees and hands. When we were finally extricated from the din the sense of relief was palpable. And...that is pretty much how I rode out the teen years. Aware, exhausted from the stretching and pandemonium of our busy household.

He was always the fun one. Taking them to shows, understanding their music...I was the white-knuckled one. His role was to assuage my fears and mine to remind him of the fragility of life that requires warnings. The push and pull of our relationship worked...we mostly understood we needed the other to balance. 

The smile on his face from the ride through Ottawa juxtaposed against my wide-eyed, relieved but pale one makes me laugh. "That was fun!" and all I could do was agree, knowing that he had been flooded with adrenaline as we wove in and out of traffic doing 120k +. 

Quebec is not far now...

Tuesday, September 13, 2016


Sliding into Ontario we were fresh after our rest in Manitoba. We were gliding on new tarmac that was bendy and twisty the rock formations on each side seem chiseled. Trees and traffic were more abundant, as were warning signs for speeders, reminders of 90 km/h and water views inviting us to stop.

But, like those years in a marriage where there is lots of change, beauty and fragrance, it seems you press on to a destination and miss a lot along the way. Jobs are more demanding, kids are more demanding and you're tired at night, tired in the morning and your relationship slips into push mode. You acknowledge the lakes and changes along the appreciate you are moving forward together...but the meals are getting boring, the routine is mundane...

This was Ontario for me. My head was itching in my helmet where I could not reach, the playlists I created were predictable and annoying me. We blasted through towns, stopping for gas though our sojourn in a town that were all wearing Melissa Bishop tee shirts reminded us to ask the story...and we heard all about the Eganville native that was running the 800 meter race in Rio the next week. The town more than beamed for in the field and older ladies having tea in their red shirts got me excited to cheer her on.

We also learned that our unplanned extra day in Manitoba meant that we had missed one of the worst storms. The cafe owner was dumping buckets of water from her planters, and in small town familiarity weaving the story of how truly unique and unpleasant this downpour had been.

We have dodged a lot of storms..we have also ridden into some at full force...I was grateful for the intimation that we had listened to our inner wisdom to avoid this one..Many times through out the years there has been intuition, promptings and God's voice suggesting what I already know is true. I have abandoned some relationships, shifted course and navigated through questionable friendships and situations that would tear me or my family down. I have watched others ignore the plea, the advice and crashed. Purposefully, I have tried to keep my selfdom in check...deliberately rationalizing that it could not always be about me.

I have been blessed by a partner who does the same. The expression of want and need is free and the dialogue around priority, timing and finances ensues. This has meant he has attended plays, dinners and social gatherings he would be less inclined to, and I have entertained bands, slept in a school bus and worn the same clothes for a few days. It has also meant that I have left on bike trips in the pouring rain and he has poked in stores for hours without complaint. Our kids have been, and continue to be the light of our life.

We head back on the road, fed and watered, having abandoned no carbs with a grilled cheese sandwich. The compromise of diet is necessary, especially in a small town. The coffee renews me enough to study the topography of limestone and fossil valley.

We press on!

Friday, September 9, 2016

Manitoba is awesome!!

I wasn't always a tea person. In fact I have had quite a few "must-have" phases in our years. I used to drink my coffee with milk and then I changed to heating the milk for 20 seconds in the microwave and then adding coffee…about 8 years ago I happened on tea and it is currently the staple of my life. Were I to choose only one beverage - that would be it. I can drink it hot, warm, cold…and thus far have not tired of it..But I recognize that fads and phases come and go and I am open to change.

We have now stopped at least 6 times on the way to Winnipeg and I can feel the energy draining out of me as I have connected with the Clements and find out that we are 3 hours from our destination. i am not sure if tea can even pull me through right now..but it has to - there is little choice. 

The sky is dark, I am tired, hungry and yet he continues on without complaint. He is really doing the heavy lifting. Planning routes, riding, keeping us out of harms way. He must be exhausted and bored and knowing this helps assuage my grumpiness. We need to muster up energy to visit people we barely know, and soon to meet again tonight.  Heading to the lake - past Grand Beach and onto Lester - I can feel waves of relief as we head into a beautiful sun dancing on the water. 

Past three stop signs and what I read as a tree (instead of Creek) and we find a little dirt road with a few dots of cabins. Hair askew, parched and  windblown we are treated to a  welcome that comforts me. Bonnie, Spencer and Chris are so lovely - so easy to be with. They have things settled - we will stay at the "other cabin" and we really need to stay another night. It was perfect timing as we both knew it was good for us. 

Lester Beach is glorious and sandy on Lake Winnipeg. A remembrance bench for Dorothy is a reminder how important this place is for an important part of our family.

I am fuller than full as we leave. I feel stuffed with love and hugs from the Clements family as we embark on the journey through Kenora to the Great Lakes and beyond!!

Rested, fed and eager to hit curvy roads we are off early enough to need to wipe the dew in August. The input of beauty surpasses all my expectations as we wend and wind our way through the lake country of Winnipeg and Ontario. Water is as common as trees and breathtaking sights abound. I am pleased and surprised at my naivete. I had always pictured the Canadian Shield like the Atlas rendition of a rock mound surfacing was so much more..and Ontario won me over with spectacular views, sandy beaches, clear lakes and how huge this fricking province really is!  

Canadian history taught me that BC was a force to be reckoned with…the railway took twice as long through the mountains..yada yada yada…. I have a new appreciation for the beginnings of that railway…they didn't lose hope…that astounds me.

The middle years of marriage…the raising of children, mortgages, driving, driving, driving…those years seem are home for moments when you are out again….or everything is synchronized to have a child fall ill in the middle and you wend your way to a school, sleepover or dance class unexpectedly…and then, there are the rehearsals, detentions, missed busses and unexpected projects.  Those are the middle years....interminable..defining, wonderful....

Calgary to Saskatoon or bust???

The company at Al Von Zipper's was fantastic as we poked through themed rooms, collections and cool music. The tiki room was so comfy and we had a great sleep in anticipation of a long ride  to Saskatoon.

Much like being a newlywed, the beginning of the journey you are fresh, clothes are fresh and you set out with great intentions of early nights and healthy food. At the start of Day Three I could feel my butt losing feeling and the early night was an early morning and so we left on little sleep. I am grateful the roads are straight and won't require too much energy to manoeuvre through. 

Heading out on the plains of a loop of endless fields and cattle with gentle humps and bumps until we reach Drumheller.

Drumheller is a unique valley of dark loam and excavation and a place of dinosaur and anthropological fame. If you look beyond the replica Tyrannosaurus and pterodactyl to the topography of this incredible area, I was in awe of the history that lay beneath this dirt. Although overrun with tourist attractions, you cannot help but appreciate that the story beneath could answer a lot of questions and reveal some mysteries.

We caught up with a friend and their family camping here. They were enjoying the pools and laughter of children….it is great to be reminded of this stage of life…..

We press on after hugs and put the same tape back on of fields and cattle, humps and bumps..though every now and then I would get a nudge to take a picture of verdant valley or copse of trees that made him take notice.

We arrive in Saskatoon bedraggled and hot to meet new friends Brian and Lindsey. We are welcomed with food, drink and great conversation. They are easy to be with and I felt like we had known them for years. Brian fills us in on rides and photo shoots, but the pride he has in his family is evident. 

You often collect friends along life's path and some are for a time, and others come and go. My heart feels full already with Al giving up his bed and Lindsey washing sheets and preparing the most amazing fajitas - and we still have more people to see and things to do. 

Next stop - Winnipeg or thereabouts. We try to catch breakfast with Brian as we leave…unfortunately still on Maclean Crescent gas is pouring from his bike…nonplussed outwardly he hops in my place and Norman returns him to his house to get his truck….a few crafty turns and we arrive at our destination that does not open for a few hours. We hastily say goodbye and set the compass east.

I had no idea what I was really getting into…if you have done it before - it still doesn't matter because it will be different - physically, emotionally - weather - life. Both in relationships and this journey we were now in what we thought was the middle. 

Crossing into Manitoba there was a change. There were now trees and hills, and different flora lined the highway. The weather was hot and the journey was now hard. My legs were restless, my hair was itchy, my music felt stale I couldn't seem to stay comfortable for more than a few minutes. My saving grace was tea. I brought 80+ peppermint herbal tea bags with me and every time we stopped I would try to get a hot water refill. 

This was more than just being frugal. This was one requirement for my hydration and I am extremely picky about the tea. Starbuck's has a hint of lemon in their peppermint…and Tim Horton's is just "okay"….I used to have a different brand in my purse or pockets at all time…but when I tried my current brand I have not gone back. As we were packing I had a few ziplocks…"You need all that?" was his query…I did…in fact as we arrived at Pearson Airport to leave I had  2 bags left…Had we stuck to our original plans I would have been out…so perhaps this is why we had to change plans? Maybe this is how the universe works?

the wedding..sort of..

We consider this the start of our cross Canada Journey; on our way through the Okanagan. Can you really get tired of this??

Marriage is a lot like this starts beautifully..

We embarked after months of planning and preparation, both checking in about how we would do this…enamoured with the thought and really not sure what will unfold.

We should stop here first and then…the details started filling in with the understanding that we would adjust as we went.

Day two we were on our way to Calgary…it is a familiar route, though not on a motorcycle. We make our way up and down the curvy esses of the mountains. We stop in Banff to take in the tourist mania. T-shirts, knick-knacks and maple syrup are hawked at every store, kiosk and panhandler you can spot.

The scenery is breathtaking with the reflection of the mountains in the turquoise Lake Louise.
As we approach Calgary a rainbow crosses over the city bisected by a black cloud. The prism appears to be half an arch as a result and I am intrigued. It becomes obvious we will be riding into a storm….at least it is obvious to him. We stop and don rain gear and within a few minutes are riding through a sheet of water. Cars are stopping randomly on the highway and inside I wonder if they know something we don't. It wasn't just a few cars either - there were so many that it cleared the way for us to ride as though we were the celebrities - or the crazy ones. He could barely see through the windshield and the visor would fog up, but if you kept the visor up the drops of rain were like small pebbles pelting you. Rivulets of water were making their way down my neck. This is DAY TWO…and we have so much farther to go.

Most relationships are nurtured in the greenhouse of passion, intrigue and excitement of the future. The relationship moves to a new phase of commitment and you find yourself all in. All in is unique to the relationship itself I have found. Some have the stick-to-it-ness because their innate sense that what brought you together was your core and the storms and blips are surmountable. Yet, I cannot ignore that I have been the observer of relationships run amok with all the typical disturbances of life…ego, sex, finances, insecurities and fit.  Alliances are formed with the conscious or unconscious knowing that it isn't a true fit. Perhaps it is the itch for the moment, but it is not ideal. 

This notion of ideal has sometimes confounded me. I could never be anyone's ideal mate all of the time…not even 75%. Ideal would need a definition to me of someone who helps me to be the best that I can be. I also believe in the commitment to forever, not just with the romantic values, but just as storms and swells will come into our life, having someone remind you to don your rain gear and also rides with you through the tempest - you get through the other side of the deluge. 

We arrive in Calgary, soaking wet and anticipating a visit to the famous or infamous Tubby Dog. I have heard of this place for more than 15 years…nostalgia and kitch meet with bands, dogs and some interesting combos. Musicians were setting up as Heidi and I were christened with our inaugural visit. The dog was okay…though it was a processed soy dog that is hard to lose the taste and texture of play-doh on a bun. 

more to come....Canada is a fricking big country!!!!!!

Sunday, July 17, 2016

essentials only

I have one pannier to hold all I need to visit 7 major cities and hundreds of towns for more than 3 weeks. We are east-bound across the Rockies with a destination as far east as we dare before we head back. Montreal and Quebec city are the highlights, but part of the journey will take us through the big prairie skies of my birthplace. Our oldest has scouted Quebec for us, highlighting the cool scenes we are inclined to miss after days of riding. I have one pannier and this means preparing for summer storms, blazing heat and cold mornings. I will rule out attire for fancy eateries and dance spots. Next time. My pre-trip prep requires building muscle of trust. It is hard to relinquish all control of life and safety to another. My friend echoed the struggle I have, not with trust, but in control and yet as we chatted the flurry of thought and emotion solidified. Love gave control and power. I have already built that might require a little stretching now - as will my hips after long rides... I expect this land of mine to show me wonders and sites from my 180 view with a 20 or so degree obstruction in front. we come!!

Friday, March 25, 2016


You know those Saturdays when you have mounting chores - powerwashing, laundry, taxes, accounting...but the sun bursts through the clouds reminding me there are bikes to ride. It has been a while since I embraced reckless abandon and did what I needed to instead of what should be done. So when a friend came for a visit, we ditched duty and were off. As always we looked for twists and turns in the road as we made our way to Fort Langley. There was no dull at the thrill of anticipation through familiar grooves and ruts. Three of us zipping and coiling through the countryside, at times in unison and next splayed seconds apart and riding our own ride. In unison I am mesmerized by the timing of three disparate machines and responses that synchronize as though one. When the spell of the wave is broken I find myself enthralled with the wide-open, eagles catching wind, nests high up in the bare trees exposed by winter and the daffodils that have bloomed in the early heat of March. We break for coffee amidst the tourist area, little kids pointing at us and having their parents bend to whisper. I wonder what they say. A little boy gives me the thumbs up surreptitiously and when I smile he looks shyly looks to his shoes. We set off for home, with a detour to Telegraph Trail. I never tire of this little road without lines that seems set back in time. It is a few minutes of gentle sway with old farmhouses and I conjure tales of yesteryear and am set back in time. Within minutes we are in the din of the city, though the peace from the morning has settled in me. Namaste.