Following The Scent In The Light Of Another Season

Assisi, Italy.  By Aaron Huey, in The National Geographic, July/August 2007

The past couple of days have been a bit chillier and wetter than what is normal for this time of year.  Or, perhaps, it just seems that way because of the mild, dry winter and April we had this year.

Somehow, at least for me, the unusual weather conditions left me feeling as if Spring hadn't arrived. Perhaps I am one of those creatures who doesn't respond so much to the season itself as to the change from the previous season.  I barely noticed that change from February to March to April.

However, the chilly, damp weather of the past few days left me feeling, ironically enough, that Spring had finally arrived.  I first noticed it one day last week, when I rode to work.  The rain had just passed; it washed the air with the scent of blooming flowers and reflected a subdued yet forgiving light of a dissipating cloud cover.

I could have followed that scent, in that light, all day.  But that day's ride had to end at work. But, at least, the sky had cleared and I pedaled home in the moonlight. 

The Day After The Super Full Moon

The other night we had a "super full moon."  Higher-than-normal tides usually come with it.  What that means is that when the tides recede, they leave even more sandbars exposed than are usually seen when the tide is out.

These above photo, and the ones that follow, come from Point Lookout, where I rode yesterday.

It seemed that everyone there was happy.  Why wouldn't they be?  The overcast sky opened to bright sunshine, and everything seemed so peaceful.  I pedalled into some wind on my way out there, but that meant an easier ride home.

Isn't that what everybody wants?

I Didn't Get Their Addresses; He Doesn't Have Mine

Today was one of those days that started off overcast and became almost preternaturally sunny and clear--during the course of my bike ride.  However, the temperature dropped noticeably as I rode toward the sea:  The water is still pretty cold and the wind was blowing from it.

At Point Lookout, a man who drove there with his girlfriend took this photo.  I took photos of them with their camera, and one with mine.  I'd promised to send it to them but didn't get their e-mail address!

Along the way, something even stranger happened.  I didn't take a photo, and I don't think I would've even if I could've.


I was riding along the Park Avenue, the main commercial street of Long Beach.  Along the way, I passed a cafe where a bunch of guys and their bikes were eating and drinking on the front terrace.  They were all in bright jerseys and had their racing bikes propped next to their tables.  I've seen countless groups like them; for many years, I rode with them.  Still, something felt even more familiar about the group I saw today.


As I passed directly in front of it, I caught the glance of a guy with whom I rode on any number of occasions.  The groups in which we rode were, for lack of a better term, spontaneously  assembled pelotons.  We weren't racing, at least not officially, but our competitiveness often turned from friendly to passionate to heated.  In other words, the testosterone level was high.


And the guy whose glance I caught for a moment was a kind of eminence renfrognee.  I think he scowled through his wedding and the birth of his daughter and when he ate lechon asado in holiday gatherings.  Heck, I even saw him scowl when he had a few beers in him.


I was told the guy was a photographer, but I never saw any of his work.  In fact, I never saw him working:  He was employed in a couple of bike shops and everyone who worked with him described him as lazy.  You'd never know that if you saw him on a bike.


Anyway, I don't know whether or not he recognized me.  I hadn't seen him--and, I presume, he hadn't seen me--in about ten years.  If you've been reading this or my other blog, you know that I've gone through a lot of changes since then.  I am a different kind of cyclist from the one I was when I was riding with him, and I'm not sure we could relate now.  For that matter, I'm not sure he'd want to.


I just hope he enjoyed his ride today at least as much as I enjoyed mine.