The first ride to Mt Tabor after returning from France

As I begin my climb I can’t but stop to take a snap or two of these magnificent colors, especially the fresh green – still fighting back the inevitable winter.

When I reach the top… Did you know that Mark Rothko grew up in Portland Oregon? Perhaps it’s this Portland citiscapes, the horizontal lines of different colors that inspired his famous work.

I should start a new blog, seriously. “People Shooting Film Around the World”. This young lady was kind enough to allow me to photograph her Polaroid camera. It looked new so I wondered where one would buy film packs since the Polaroid camera stopped making them years ago. (Hint: the IMPOSSIBLE project)

I ride my bike all year round for all purposes. Which includes shopping. Here’s the character of the day.

I see this cute bike and decide to take picture. As some customes walk in (notice the shoe) I realize it’s a Marijuana Store. America is an amazing country. What you can do freely and openly in Oregon, like buy and smoke pot, even grow it, may land you in jail in many other states.

The fall colors of Oregon are perhaps the best in the world

The long haul home

I jotted this schedule to avoid Paris. Spending a few hours on a train to Bordeaux seemed like a good idea: these trains are larger than the TGV so you can do some work. It’s easier to load / unload the bicycle as well. In fact, all the three seats in my row were vacant so I was able to take a good nap from Marseille to Toulouse.

Bordeaux St Jean

However, there is some train collision which messes up the entire network. I arrive in Bordeaux 55 minutes late. My train to Poitier has left. I have about one hour until the next train. Which is also late! So I have some time for a beer.

Finally, I am on the TGV for Paris Montparnasse. Two minutes after the train pulls off the platform somebody throws a massive rock in my window. WOW. There are some angry people in France.

The conductor calls the police and they make me move to a different seat (the cracked window is just fine with me but they insist).

By the time I arrive in Poitiers it’s pitch-black and raining. I barely manage to hop on the last train for Montmorillon. 40 minutes later I am on my bicycle on the night road to L.T.

It’s drizzling but I feel good. Because of the clouds and water mist there is diffusion of light in the air. So you can actually see the edge of the road.

It’s much worse when it is crystal clear and there’s no moon. The black skies absorb all the light from the earth. When it happens you can’t see the road at all. You vanish in this overwhelming darkness! But not this time