The dogs begin stirring before dawn, when they hear the birds come to life in the garden. I play dead to delay getting up to take them outside. Except when there’s fog.
I was drifting through the fog with plans to ride somewhere for breakfast. To manage the risk and lack of visibility, I choose the roads less traveled. Secondary roads. Forest roads. Paths. You can spend more time entertaining your imagination on those roads.
And with fog, the world transforms itself into myth and legend. And the early part of my trip had a little forest magic too.
There’s an uncanny stillness to a forest in fog. It can be a lovely escape from the noise of the world or swollen with anxiety over some unseen danger. Today I was somewhere in the middle. I tend to trust my gut with riding related choices and that little voice was whispering to turn around.
I had planned to ride along the ridge, head east over the mountain and then south toward breakfast in the next county.
My route would require 20 miles of gravel roads, something I would normally not think twice about. But my new Heidenau tires don’t like gravel. With the scooter moving around in even the lightest stones at 15mph it would be more of a grind than I wanted to take.
The Vespa is not a dirt bike. With the right tires it could easily move at 40mph. But uncertain traction and a diminished view of the road surface seemed a poor mix.
On a foggy day the road can seem as if it goes on forever. I’ve learned that every moment counts on a ride. For safety and as opportunities of discovery. Maybe that’s why I don’t pass up opportunities to ride in the fog.