Saturday, November 11, 2006

Indian summer walk

This is as good as it gets in November. Hit the river at 9:00, only two other cars. The boys were beside themselves, bouncing and singing on the ride to the parking area. The leaves were falling madly every time the slightest breeze blew. The leaves covered the river. Fresh ones floating, the bottom carpeted with food for the invertebrates over the cold winter.

The slasher was there. Nothing to slash now, so he had a book in his hands. I wonder how he feels, on the trail alone, when approached by me and my bundles of energy. Does he feel sad and alone? Relieved to have his peace. Does it remind him of his kids before they left home, or has he never even had a girlfriend?


Snack at lunch rock, brief stop at the powerline. We walked to the end of the pavement, it’s impossible with the double stroller after that. I never like turning around. Can’t wait until the boys are big enough to walk the whole way so we can explore a little more. Coming back there were people everywhere. Walking, biking, fishing. Dogged and dogless.

I suspect that will be the last short-sleeved walk of 2006.

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

Why do you call him the slasher?

Patapsco Mike said...

He's a tall thin guy in his late 50’s who walks along the old Hollofield Road trail several times a week all summer long. He carries a big stick, and methodically whacks at the brush along the sides of the trail as he goes. The stick goes up in front of him, pauses, slashes down, and comes back up behind him, then slash. He walks a mile up, and a mile back. You can hear him coming before you see him.

Swish. Swish. Swish.

Maybe I should call him the Swisher.

Anyway, you know he’s been by recently when you see bits and piece of leaves and stems all along the path.

I have never figured out what he’s doing. I mean sure, he’s clearing the path, but why? It’s not a goat trail, this is a 20’ wide macadam road. Is he doing this for himself? For others? Just railing against nature? Is he bat-s crazy? I hope it’s not bat-s crazy, because he drives there. He’s always alone.

He says Hi as he passes you, but he’s not a talker- he’s a whacker. Lets hope he keeps it to the weeds.