Hills, Clouds, and Turtle Bars

Doylestown, PA

4 October 2017

Tom had threatened a "Leg Beater" ride, which, I pointed out to him, was a euphemism (as far as that goes) for "Lying Bastard." He knew we'd show up no matter what he threatened, and he was right. He'd sent me the route on Friday evening. Looking it over before downloading it into Son Of, I realized it wasn't that bad. He and I had done a similar route late last October.

For the Insane Bike Posse, Jack H and I were there to represent. Ken G and Marc made us five. We started by walking over the Bulls Island Bridge, where I stopped immediately to get a closer look at what appeared to be a stray prop from Whose Line Is It Anyway.

After that I blew my "no more pictures of water" rule right out of the water. I think it might have been worth it.

We climbed up Fleecydale, took the second left out of Carversville, and after that I have no idea where we were, even though I'd looked at the map twelve hours ago.

We went through Doylestown, where Tom had to stop to change the batteries in his GPS. It was a little early for that, and, as it turned out, the first of at least three battery changes. Wary of buying a new GPS after hearing the rest of us bitch about Garmin, he's nursing his old DeLorme along for as long as he possibly can. Ken, wary of Garmin for the same reasons, had his phone on with an earbud.

We had a scenery stop in Peace Valley Park. We took the bike path from the southwestern edge, over the dam, and a little way around the northwestern side of the lake. The sky was dramatic over the lake from the dam.

Last year Tom and I had tried to get a good picture of the canoes. This year I zoomed in from the dam and hoped for the best.

I tried to zoom in on a great blue heron.

Around the corner I stopped for a gull posing on a dock.

More of the canoes:

We climbed out of the valley to find sky that we needed pictures of:

I didn't realize that a flock of geese were photobombing until I got home.

Next we found a road with a bridge out.

Then we stopped at the Down to Earth Cafe.  On the counter was a stack of homemade chocolate somethings. "I'll have a large coffee and one of whatever those are," I said to the woman behind the counter.

"Turtle bars," she said.

"Made with real turtles."

"Of course!"

Ken walked up just then and asked what the bars were.

"Turtle bars," she said. "It's oats and chocolate. And baby turtles."

"But free range baby turtles," I suggested.

"Of course! We only use free range baby turtles."

So Ken got one too.

(Now don't y'all go starting an online petition to demand that Down to Earth stop using baby turtles in their pastries. Taste one of those things first.)

I waited at the one open table and took a few pictures of the dice that were there for whatever reason.

As promised, the turtle bar was very sweet. I asked for waxed paper and took most of it home.

On the way back to New Jersey we stopped for cows. The pasture was divided, adults on one side, calves on the other. Almost every one was lying down. The grownups stood when we stopped.

One approached the fence, curious.

The calves stayed on the ground and mooed.

I took more pictures of the Delaware River as we walked across the bridge back to Bulls Island.

I didn't go straight home; I had to stop by the lab to take care of an errant cage of mice. Then the lawn needed one last mowing. I was tempted to change straight into my pajamas after my shower but there was food shopping to be done.

It's four days later and the rest of the turtle bar is still in the refrigerator.