On Nov. 25, 1857 Henry David Thoreau wrote the following words: “It is but a short time these afternoons before the night cometh in which no man can walk. If you delay to start till three o’clock, there will be hardly time left for a long and rich adventure, to get fairly out of town. November Eat-heart, is that the name of it? Not only the fingers cease to do their office, but there is often a benumbing of the faculties generally.”
As of Sunday, Daylight Vanishing time is upon us here in Maine, again. Not only is it now too dark outside to ride my bicycle before supper, it is also the start of the official month long deer hunt. I’m rightfully frightened of getting shot, so I stay out of the forests, even when the sun is brightly shining. In fact, a hunter was accidentally shot and killed in Maine just yesterday. I don’t like this double whammy November situation.
So I rode three afternoons last week, twice in the woods, and once on the roads around Moody Mountain.
Probably the last time I’ll get three rides in until March or April. Snow piles from last Sunday’s storm are still solid, on the north side of my garage, in the shady places.
On last Thursday night’s ride, I teamed up with three of my riding group- The Bubbas, as we all clicked on our high intensity halogen headlamps, labored up Ragged Mountain, and pumped our lungs and legs up and down the leaf-obscured trails, only to revel our arrival with intact bodies and bikes back down in the parking lot.
The dark world is upon us.