Above, near the start at the Washington Crossing bridge; below, Martin tells us about a memorial for soldiers who died before the crossing.
Friend Peter G invited a few of us on a towpath ride for 12/23 (we're usually road riders, but the cold weather suggested an alteration of plans was a good idea). I went along. I didn't get may pictures, because my fingers were RIDICULOUSLY cold for the first umpteen miles (hint: if it's cold enough to justify a towpath ride, it's cold enough to wear the heaviest gloves; I had fears of frostbite for a while... but I'm typing this without incident, so my fears were unfounded).
Most important to me, though, was the opportunity to talk to a few people I trust about some emotionally-laden decisions I have to make. A few decades ago, there was a men's movement (one of many, recurring men's movements) that advocated for support groups, but the support groups as such never really got off the ground. Some people get their support in different ways from formal groups, and this group of riders is one of mine. This ride was hugely helpful for me.
I came home, though, with several cubic feet of towpath stuck to my bike and my person. I had to clean the dried sand and mud out of the car, and then, because the hose is not connected for the winter, I poured several buckets of water over the bike, and had to wipe down the bags and other accessories. Even the camera, in my pocket for most of the ride, had an accumulation of gook on it.
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