Sunday, December 20, 2015

Sunday Before Christmas

Cold and clear, but promised to be a high of 45!

I got up early, took Max out, fed Irene, and went back to bed. Boy, did I sleep in! The sun was high in the sky when I finally got up. The boys were so far down the hill, I could only see the topline of their Rambo blankets, and they didn't see me. In the lingering shadows and shade the frost was hanging on and the ground was hard as a rock.

I got everyone fed in an orderly fashion and got myself ready to ride!

So we're going down the six-lane divided interstate highway, towing the boys, who are wearing their blankets. It is still cold, and the wind chill doing 70 mph would be really cold. They are so spoiled. Eastbound traffic is light, and I'm looking ahead and see 'something' in the roadway. I don't know what it is, but it is laying across our lane. I said, 'don't know what that is, but you'd better get over if you can." He does, and as we get closer we realize it is a KAYAK!

Kayak! on the roadway! - he said, 'call 911' so I called 911 - got Howard County Police Dispatch, who then transferred me to State Police Dispatch, because it is an interstate highway - a camouflaged-motif fiberglass kayak, sitting perpendicular in the roadway. I'm sure who ever it belonged to didn't know it was missing until they got to their destination. I know I didn't want to run it over, pulling a horse trailer. Who would?

We stopped in at the supermarket to get Advil, don't leave home without it!, and diesel, which with my grocery purchases discount gave us a pretty good deal.
I vividly remember paying $5.04 for diesel in 2008.

We have things to do at home, so we opted to park at the CSX Rail crossing parking lot in Marriottsville. This strategy cuts down on about a hour of ride time. This is one of the shortest days of the year, and it is already after 10. The puddles were frozen. There is only one car in the lot.

Two trains came by while were at the Woodstock Inn. Coal cars filled to capacity, heading out to Curtis Bay and the Baltimore Harbor.

On the way back, we chose to go up the white trail, an established and marked trail that goes towards McKeldin Park.
I kept hearing engines rumbling, but there is no roadway in that direction for miles. As we came up the rise I saw hikers with a dog, but the engines were louder. And louder. We came up the hill and there were about FIFTEEN motorcycles, 4-wheelers, and assorted other off-road motorized vehicles on the trail. One of them noticed us, and I pretended to call 911 and he proceeded to photograph the group. He signaled to the others and they took off down the trail. At high speed. All the newly installed water-breaks are now crushed and gouged out.

At the Colonial Pipeline cut it was obvious they had been doing hill-climbing exercises, over and over and over. When we went through there a little over an hour before the trail was bench cut perpendicular to the steep hillside. On our way back the trail had been obliterated and the recently repaired and seeded hill was a mud wash. Very disappointing on a quiet Sunday before Christmas.

We got back slightly before dark and he worked with Beau again. He and Beau are starting a love affair, and once we get a round pen they will become a solid team.

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