Cold Commutes

The sky was clear and cold as I pedaled east.  It had been nearly a week since the roads were dry, and the recent end of day light savings time had brought the faint dawn light back into my commute, if only for a short while.  

Instead of turning east on the main highway after emerging from my rural back-country path, on a whim I continued straight toward the river, lured perhaps by a glimpse revealed by the dwindling fall foliage.  There was a car parked in nearby, facing the river and with a sun shade in the windshield.  Piled belongings in the back hinted at the possible presence of an unfortunate slumbering occupant.  Cars are designed to keep you dry and warm, although the latter only when running.  I imagine it was a long, chilly night.

The path meandered  down toward the river and closer to the bridge.  Several other cars were there, obviously not there for recreation, but their occupation status unclear. I made my way down the boat ramp to watch the cold, silent river, make its way past.  I'm sure we must have paused here on one of my many canoe trips down the river during warmer seasons.  This morning the river was all business.

Not wanting to backtrack too far, I made a brief scramble up an embankment to gain the familiar roadway just prior to the bridge launching out into air above the river.  Riding to the crest, I paused to take in the view of the fall colors showing warmly in the morning light.  I have been trying to apricate the views from bridges more, although it is usually difficult with close traffic and narrow paths.

Onward to work, where I can warm up from my morning passage.  I will pause again on the west-bound bridge on the way home to enjoy the view from the other side in very similar light, the sun disappearing from its short journey across the sky.