I like pedestrians

As I rode north to Greenfield one of the warm days this week (yay!), I thought to connect between two adjoining apartment complexes to the north of the UMass campus. It's not a shorter route, but it avoids the North Amherst traffic light which can be timed exceptionally badly, plus, it has the perk of not being an option for cars with the fifteen feet of dirt path to complete the connection. Of course, in case I haven't already mentioned thirty-twelve times, it has snowed a lot, so there was the possibility the dirt path connection would actually be a snowy slog, but nope, lots and lots and lots of people on foot had packed it super solid!

But even before that, as I exited the north end of campus, I had another chance to appreciate people partaking in pedal propulsion. At the exit of a rotary, there is a crosswalk, and at that crosswalk was a pedestrian, so I stopped. Not only is this required by law, stopping for people walking is just a feel good thing to do, assuming one feels good about being a decent human being, but the pedestrian actually apologized to me for having to stop! My response, "No worries, enjoy the day!" 

Smiling, "Enjoy your day too!"

It was a simple, but entirely positive interaction, one that would've been missed if either of us were sealed in a box on wheels. Yup, I definitely prefer pedestrians to pugilists! And yes, there is a pretty pithy pun hidden in all that alliteration.

But I also like mountain bikers, and in the interim since my ride north, I met another one. Yesterday I ran on the snowmobile pack where it crosses the road a mile from my house. I rode there, and to my pleasure, I discovered the pack would support even my 2" commuter tires at 30psi. Running was tiring, and warming temperature was softening the snow, so I didn't ride the trail further than the couple hundred yards to stash my bike, but once home I checked the forecast for overnight cold. Yes, I was actually hoping for cold enough riding weather!

Lithia Springs Reservoir

I'm not hoping winter lasts longer, 

but it can be lovely at times.

By leaving around 7:30 this morning, I departed with temperatures in the mid twenties, great for a solid snowmobile trail surface, especially after the previous afternoon's warmth packed it even more. It worked! Even with my tires at 10psi, up a substantial percentage from this year's early snow ride attempt, I was able to ride the vast majority of climbs, and most importantly, genuinely have a bit of fun doing it. Just before the biggest climb up Mount Holyoke, I saw my friend Craig riding, seemingly repeating the ride I'd seen him on last year in similar conditions. 

He asked, "Do you know Mike ________?"

"No, I don't think so."

"He's up there as will, lives in Granby, and does work on the Batchelor Street Trails"

At the top, sitting on the deck of the summit house, was another rider enjoying a break. We greeted eachother, but left it at that, and rather than cool too much before the descent, I ate a quick snack then started heading down. I heard a bike behind me, so I biased myself to one side of the snowmobile packed roadway and motioned to acknowledge awareness in case the rider wanted to pass. He didn't, and at the first junction, he asked, "Oh, you're headed down Dry Brook too?"

We greeted eachother again and, knowing my limits on half a fat bike tire width, I suggested he go first. Good choice, on the the steeper trail, he was gone and out of sight before long.

Blue white theme?

In about a mile, I decided to try something different, a right turn at the fork. I wasn't sure it headed where I needed, but I know how to turn around, and I wanted to know where it went. Turns out, it went where I wanted and was even faster than the route I had taken on the way out. I know it was faster because I saw Mike again exactly where the two routes rejoined. Third time's the charm, so we actually stopped to chat, and I brought up Craig's mention of his trail work, then offered to help. We traded numbers, and then rode pretty much the same pace, on average, now that we were off the big descent, and could hold a conversation, which we did for the next three quarters of an hour. I suspect he'll be subjected to even more of my stories in the future, if I have anything to say about it. Maybe some pedestrian will explain to him it's safer to just smile and apologize.