The iowa powerline trails (exploration)
'this is what the sunset looked like' 
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(45 votes)
Published: Aug 26, 2005 12:36 p.m.
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_I’m just incredibly tired after all the trails i’ve bikes, and just spent much of thismorning re-wiring my brake and cable system, making repairs, and cleaning my bike. Anyway, since there isn’t much else to do i’ll just post this trip i took on tuesday.
-I filled up my 2 coleman water bottles and set off for the powerlines on tuesday morning. It was a beutiful sunny day, marshmallow clouds and azure blue sky. Upon reaching the point where the trail begins i blazed down the hill in a cloud of dust and rocks. The humm of the powerlines was ever present as white niose above. At the bottom of the hill i rode down the causeway that goes in between a lake and carried my bike up the rocky cliff at the other side,. From this rocky precipice i looked down over the marsh. It was overgrown and bursting with leafy vegetation, purple and ble flowers, and lillies of white and yellow. Small channels meandered lazily through the lillies, like uncoiled blue serpents. This was an outpost of life on the mostly desolate trail of rock and wires above. I’ve been here in winter, sitting on the cold steel bands that went over the horizon and gleamed in the cold rays of the sun. The bog in winter is nothing but a frozen quagmire of death and decay, with its black pine forest upon its muddy banks. I continued on, struggling up steep rocky inclimes, and roaring down again. The rocks are covered in lichens, that relentlessy consume them over centuries. My shoes crunched on the myriad of brown and green broken bottles from parties out here long forgotten. I finnaly reached my "citadael" as i call the humble shack that i build on the top of a rocky cliff surrounded by dusty meadows. The walls are of warped boards nailed and lashed together. I have a table in the corner of a huge wooden spool that was used to transport repair wire. I also biult some shelves, where i put some odds and ends i found on my travels, such as a brake, door knob, containers of berries and soda bottles full of my homeade whine in secondary fermentation.
I climp up a rocky pinnacle outside of the shack and sit amoung the thorn bushes and watch the foundry where asphault and concrete is made, the machines that eat rock and clank, belching black smoke into the air. I made a small fire and cooked some spaggetti 0’s out of a tin can as i sat in the grass. There is a junkyard nearby full of the rusted shells of cars and trucks, and old fridges. I took of some of the hoods to use in the shack. As i spooned the spaggetios as the sun sank low the clouds sailed abouve casting shadows over the trails. It was a fucking beutiful sight. This, this is the heart of america.
(also i did take pictures but they aren’t developed yet, i’ll post em as soon as possible) |
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 | Aug 26, 2005 1:24 pm -
Nice Job 4* |
 | Aug 26, 2005 2:34 pm -
tell me when you got those pictures developed
5 * |
 | Aug 26, 2005 3:06 pm -
Why did u use so many literate(good at readin and writin for the idiots) metaphors |
 | May 08, 2006 5:07 pm -
Cool 4* |
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