Under the Redwoods.

Redwood trunks, straight , rising up and beyond sight.
Silence
My steps are barely heard on the forest floor.
No birdsound !

And a rare delight – I don’t know where I am!

Other people, ‘older’ like me, are always ready for a chat. Many are dog walkers. And there are dogs of many breeds and sizes. At first the doggos are cautious, then, tail wagging, happy to be spoken too – patted.

Frequent signs,
‘All dogs must be on a lead.’

Forest walkers are friendly and very happy to chat.
They give advice on ‘where the steep bits are’ .
And how I can find my way back to the car. This is helpful as I have quite lost my sense of knowing where I am. For me this is rare. Unsettling. I am surrounded by foliage, much of it see through foliage but to more foliage. I am only sure of the car being ‘down there’ somewhere.
A friendly Scotsman (with a Kiwi burr) points to a track which arrives at ‘the car park’.
It is one of many car parks, but now, with my sense of direction returning, I know which car park and with the press of the contactless key, lights of The Car are winking.

4,000 steps. Old fashioned walking, the GPS map on my smart phone now making sense.
I am ready for a break. The chance to sit down. Something – anything – to eat and drink.

And back at the motel, waiting, is Boris. The Motel Moggy, loyal friend, manipulator – always hopeful for a smuggled bite of cooked chicken.

When I Was Six

And now I’m eighty six.

Yes, when I was six years old I learned to ride a two wheel bike.

It was borrowed – balance, bravery and bruises.

Now I am eighty six. I ride an E Bike.

I bought it – for balance,

There’s a wee bit of fear but so far no bruises.

“Well you’re doing alright!”

Insulting?

Admiring?

Never got comments like that when I was six.

My Pop, “Slow down you little bugger!”

Pop was a great old guy

Remembered stuff he did when he was a ‘ little bugger.”

In fact Pop was not a part of the family tree. Originally he was a boarder in my Nana’s boarding house.

They got on well. Very well.

I’m not aware of my Pop riding a bike.

Riding the bike is an escape, adventure.

A passing cyclist ~ a cheery greeting.

Blue sky

Horizon to horizon clouds

Contented munching of cows

No traffic bustle, nor that fear of being passed to closely.

That first coffee

The day has started, I’ve that that zip, that flair of enthusiasm.

Beans for the has-been

But, oh! The noise!

Excellent coffee grinder, excellent hearing aids.

Through the kitchen window I see sparrows feeding. Wild bird seed (and yesterday’s left over scones)

On the days when I’m late I see them staring up at our kitchen window.

Guilt.

How can these little creatures, surviving long before I turned up, and will be around after I’ve flit, make me feel so guilty?

Coffee time

That first coffee of the day.

Best storm we’ve had for a long time.

Crack of thunder

Bedroom lit up in a flash

Turmoil, vibration,wonderful.

People downtown comparing notes – dogs that couldn’t give a toss

Dogs that did

And for me

A,strange feeling of calmness

All night

A joy to be part of it

Water, lots of it, for a dry garden.

Next morning

Porridge

Which is oatmeal with mixed seeds and maple syrup!

It’s My Folding E Bike

It folds in half

I can tuck it in the back of my car

And follow my grandkids when the they go mountain biking.

Follow them for a while. Dangerous stuff mountain biking. For a grandpa.

Grandpas topple over easily enough without the help of tree roots, ruts in the path and the slippery bits.

Today, this morning, I set out early, to beat the crowds, the cyclists, the serious walkers ~ the dog walkers

7.30am. And I met the crowds, the cyclists, the serious walkers ~ the dog walkers. -all getting out early.

Summer time, a lively breeze, it was warm.

Very soon I’m out in the farm country. The cow cockies are out, they’ve been up for some time – tractors, mending fences, stroking a chin and staring at a drain that don’t drain. Always time for friendly wave.

There’s still plenty of life in the bike battery, but I’m running out of steam.

A two point turn. Wind is now in my favour

Homewards

Soon coffee

And one last look at the farm country

From 1928 to EBikes

I’m looking from our Kopu Bridge

Looking at the original bridge, the only, still operational swing bridge in NZ.

A kids we bounced over that one lane bridge, on our way to a camping holiday in Coromandel.

Small car, family of six, summer optimism.

Seventy plus years later I’d be riding an E Bike, staring, dreaming, at a bridge built in 1928. I took this photo from our ‘new’ bridge, a graceful arch, that bounces as heavy trucks go by.

Wanderer

Happy wanderer

On a bike

No traffic threats, no traffic noise. A distant tractor rolling hay wrapped in green plastic. In my day it was a haystack ~ “Dont you go climbing over your uncle’s hay stack, he’ll have to rebuild it. Poor man he’s not getting any younger”

The older Uncle got, the more fun he was with us kids. He was a kid once, remembers the ‘kid’ things he used to do.

“We painted Boyo’s tail green once. Green things grow.”

But  horsie’s tail stayed just the same.

Silence, space, once a railway, now a bike trail.

Crunch of tyre on track,

“Hi!” Cheery greeting from passing cyclist.

A stray, meaningful ‘Moo!’

I don’t speak Moo. Cows have got used to us.

Time to stare.

Last ride before Christmas.