A River Like My Hair

 Brown, curly, and receding, although depending on which context, each trait may or may not be viewed as positive.  Brown rivers are not a good think, and not just because of raw sewage effluent's contribution to the tinge.  That's silt, and the flora and fauna that live in the river aren't big fans of it.  I won't give conjecture on their reaction to the poop.

My photo, but credit to Peter Waite for adding to my appreciation of the underside of bridges, 

although credit to me for first exposing him to the linked view of the Arrigoni

In the location above, there is usually a fair scramble down an embankment to the water, and I have never seen muck where the mucky quad tracks are, but the good news, for yesterday, the tracks were above water while within recent days, they apparently were not, so I'll take that as progress.  As for my receding hairline, I'm happy about the privilege to continuing seeing that progress versus the more terminal option that was presented last year.  And looping, that's just what old rivers and my hair do.

My mostly dry ride yesterday was forecast wetter, so I rode my single speed bike, which wears the the most substantial fender protection of any bike I currently have built that wasn't somewhat deformed by a bumper last year.  A few years back, I decided that limitation to one gear in the woods was an even bigger detriment to my prospectus for walking in 20 years than trail running, so I'd converted the single speed to a road oriented gear, and while one gear is a far more popular option in the woods, this always flew foul to my logic.  Think of the typical gearing range of a road bike as compared to a mountain bike.  The MTB is wider, so dropping to just one is giving up more than the same simplification on a road bike.  Thus far, my logic has born edible fruit, but it is still easier to eschew big hills on that bike, so yesterday was a river valley ride.

Is it: 

Damn, more water draining to the Connecticut River,

 or 

Dam, more water draining to the Connecticut River?

And a nice ride it was, and a mostly sunny one as well, except when I reached the edge of Northampton and a few flicks of the rain seemed to threaten bringing more friends.  An hour and a half later, fifteen minutes after arriving home, the rain with more rain arrived and I curtailed my snack to tuck the bike inside, lest my fender bike get wet!  My soothing dip in the brook had water greeting me from both ends as I wasn't the only thing making a plop.