It's All In A Name

*** continued from previous post ***


Now that we were putting Galway Bay in our mirrors we both relaxed a little.

I can't tell you how gorgeous the day broke. There are no words. It was the magic moment - the first light seeping into the landscape bathing every mountain, every tree and rock and transient sprawled in a ditch with the hyper-reality of razor sharp detail. We floated along incredibly wide roads engineered to perfection with nary a pothole nor frost-heave in sight. Our spirits soared as the Vision carried us along, effortlessly climbing up rugged valleys, through dense cotton mist hanging from the sides of granite peaks, only to descend to lake country where the road would meander through hamlets along emerald shores, skittering through dark forest and deep meadows as the black-ribbon propelled, no . . . commanded us along its path. Lulled us Siren-like with the rhythmic twist and turns and sweeps and climbs of a road hungry for travelers and adoration. I swear that a couple of times I heard the musical notes of divine communication, (You know, BAA - DAA!!!) as we would glide around a corner to be surprised by a view even more stunning, more incredible than the last. The bike hummed beneath us. The sun shone upon us. The road was our partner, and begged us to rush along its snaking length.

We didn't even care that we were starving.

I should have realized that we were being charmed into a false sense of security. But oh no, ever the "I'm-shoveling-through-all-of-this-crap-because-I-know-there-must-be-a-pony-in-here-somewhere" kind of guy, I cried "It's good . . . it's good", and shed a silent tear of gratitude behind my helmet's shield.

After a couple of hours in this land of dreams and "Tim Hortons" (although, none that we could find), we rolled off one of the mountain passes into the small town of Stonekeep.

Stonekeep! God I love those Canadian names! We have Federal Way. They have Revelstoke. We have Ritzville. (Which, does NOT live up to it's name in any way.) They have Castlegar and Calgary, Dead Man's Flats and Crowsnest Pass.

The Great White North must fuel the imagination. Either that or they've been reading way too many Fantasy novels and Dime-Store Westerns.

We pull into Stonekeep, find a gas station, and pause for a much needed fill-up, a leg stretch and enough food to feed a circus.


*** the journey continues tomorrow and comments are always welcome. Mostly. ***