bike: 4.5 miles
the falls and back
82 degrees
AQI: 66
Two slow, short bike rides to the falls and back. Only 12 minutes, even with a delayed start after turning my workout on, from the falls to my garage. So close! I didn’t have any problems biking. I thought about the echolocation video I watched a few days ago and Molly’s (the blind YouTuber) words about wishing she could bike,
I had to stop riding bikes when I was eight, because I rode into a pole. And ever since then I’ve had to use a tandem bike.And that was frustrating for me, and that’s always one of the things, when people ask me what I miss about being sighted, I always say the things that I miss the most are the things give you freedom.
How Blind People See with Sound
Freedom. Yes! I like walking places, but biking is so much faster, and you can go farther.
hike: 40 minutes
from the falls to the river
85 degrees
Took the steps down to the dirt trail that winds beside the creek until it reaches the river. Stopped at a shaded bench for a few minutes to listen and be lulled by the water as it rushed over small rocks. A gentle, constant sound, occasionally interrupted by people passing by. I thought about sound and echoes and how the senses are entangled — particularly, how sound is textured and how it works (or seems to work, I don’t know that much about it yet) with touch when tapping a white cane.
When I met with my vision occupational therapist last month, she encouraged me to get white cane training sooner rather than later: it’s easier when you still have some sight left to learn it. Makes sense to me, so maybe at my next appointment, I’ll ask her how to sign up for it. I’m not scared of the white cane, but curious about how it works and how I’ll feel becoming so visibly disabled when I use it.
My cane tip tells me whether a dark line is thin shadow or a garden hose. I can test whether the ground’s dry, wet, or icy. Dry sounds like a scrape of plastic against pavement. Ice is a slippy hiss. Puddles gurgle.
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My cane and I build a map of sounds and feelings. With each step, each tap or slide, I gain another data point. A sound, a vibration, a resistance or its absence. I think of Seurat building a picture of the world with repeated movement, the painter adding tiny dabs of paint to a canvas.
In Light of a White Cane / Naomi Cohn
After 15 minutes, I got up and took the metal slat walkway until it turned into dirt again. Dirt that was packed, then wet, then loose. I stopped beside the limestone wall where decades of passersby have scratched into the soft stone, including RJP and FWA over 10 years ago.
10 Things
- the bridge linking the 2 sides of the creek at the mouth of the river has several warper slats — I walked over it carefully
- across the river, on the east bank, a lone figure, walking on the beach
- the sound of a collar clanging — a dog and their human approaching on the trail
- someone from behind — footsteps getting louder, a cough — morning! a guy passed me then turned and climbed up and under the bridge
- constant noise of the creek going over the rocks
- a disembodied voice: a kid, whining
- such deep, dark, lush green, looking even more magical when the sun went the clouds covered the sun
- 2 women talking — one to the other, he didn’t even make it to the 3rd inning!
- rustling in the leaves — a bird? a mouse? a squirrel?
- taking the 100+ steps 2 at a time, hearing a guy say to his friend, will you drag me back up?
Oh that green! Usually this deep into summer, so much green is accompanied by lots of bugs. Yes, I heard the buzz of cicadas, but there weren’t any mosquitoes or gnats. Where are all the bugs? Returning to the green, these different plastics rougly represent the green, either as I saw it, or as I remember feeling it:
swim: 2 loops (4 minis)
cedar lake open swim
air: 90 / water: 87
AQI: 75
The water was warm and opaque — low visibility. Yellowish green. A few bubbles, some scratchy vines, but no sparkle friends. The water was heavy and smooth on the way to hidden beach and choppy on the way back. Lots of swimmers were having difficulty navigating and ended up swimming on the wrong side. I almost ran into a pair of swimmers going the wrong way. I didn’t care.
On the back half of the final loop, I started racing another swimmer. We were going the same speed for much of the time, until I turbo-charged it by breathing every 6 strokes and pulled away. When I reached shore, they approached me — I think I was racing you; it was fun! thanks! It was fun.
Today’s water color:
Is this too yellow? Possibly, but at the beginning of the swim, before I settled in, I remember the lake looking this yellow to me.