Addicted

Decided to visit Helen today. It is a pretty town no doubt and I'm sure the cottages resemble those in Europe, it even has German, Dutch, Italian shop-owners selling wares from their parts of the world, but it just looked a bit staged to me. It was very misty as we made our way to Helen and though it did add to the charm, I felt this was merely one of those touristy destinations which is more likely to appeal to those who prefer getting there more than the journey. But the countryside with wooded fences alongside narrow trails, solitary barns, roads with their crests and troughs, horses, sheep and cows grazing upon open fields, pumpkins lying aplenty on the ground, old tractors rained over with dry leaves, pretty farmhouses with large spaces all around them was absolutely beautiful. No wonder, this landscape has inspired so much country music.

When we returned early afternoon, the light was crisp, the wind playful and the skies beautiful with their share of grey, white and blue. I had to take the bike out. I rode straight along a direction I hadn't taken before and soon enough I was riding through the country. It is hard for me to put into words what I felt as I rode through the two lane roads curving like a ribbon across oak and maple forests, the wind streaming across my face, tickling my stomach, and little leaves below the tyres rising into a frenzy, and my breathing a deafening wave cutting across the silence, when I knew there wasn't much more I could want. If I say it is a fantasy riding through roads like these, I wouldn't be exaggerating. To enjoy cycling here, I think a little bit of experience would go a long way. The connection with nature, and with silence brings joy so immediate and spontaneous, we are stripped naked, stripped of the weight we carry with ourselves, stripped of the pale sense of identity we weave around ourselves both like a shield and a locked door... in a sense we become who we are, in all its bare simplicity.

Happy Thanksgiving all!

Larger.