Mountains


It was rainy all week, a relentless seven days of overcast and cloudy conditions with mist, drizzle and steadier downpours coming and going twenty-four-seven, it seemed.  A few breaks in the precipitation were relief, sunshine time totalling maybe three hours between Sunday and Friday.  On Saturday morning, I clipped in and rode a colleague’s bike, a beaten-down hardtail with a seized up front shock and gearing that worked fairly well, up towards the Turrialba Volcano.  It was misty-to-light-rain the entire 3+ hours in the saddle, but I enjoyed it nonetheless.

Last year, I rode the same 30 mile loop, having to stop and stretch out my legs during the 1.5 hour ascent to the middle region of the mountain (7300 feet).  This time, I made it the whole way up and back down without any needed such break.  I surprised myself.  The straight elevation gain from Turri town up to the high point where I traversed the mountain below the volcano is around 5600 feet.  Add in the ups and downs along the way, and it probably pushes closer to 7000 feet of total elevation.

In May, I plan to push to the top and hopefully ride across to Irazu.

A man wearing a hipster trucker’s cap emblazoned with a rudimentary outline of a gas station pump with a handgun on the end of the hose that mimics putting a gun to our heads walks back to his car at the end of his hike in Red River Gorge, KY.

View from up on Koomer Ridge, Red River Gorge, KY

I don’t get the hype about Miguel’s Pizza.  It’s good, but not great. If you like soggy crust with gobs of cheese, then it’s your pie-in-the-sky.

I’ll take the hot dog that comes standard with toasted bun and I’ll add a side order of fries from Rose’s Cafe, complete with the owner-proclaimed ambiance of the Hillbilly dollar bills ceiling.

Primordial

I remembered that I had forgotten to buy limes and crema for the fish tacos, so I hopped on the bike and rode up to one of the local Mexicanas.  Limes, crema, some Mexican Cokes, Queso Duro Olanchano-style, and cilantro were in the bag.  I headed out and was asked by a local Mexican-American Baptist if I read the Bible.

I told him I have, but that I don’t go to church. He asked if it was because something happened in my life.  I told him nothing in particular has happened in my life that has led me to stop reading the Bible.

Off to the Red in the morning.  Fish tacos with peach salsa for campfire time are on the docket.

Paz, y’all.

...a la Mexicana...

...Americana...

 

Next Page »

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.