Oh, What a Tangled Web Tent Worms Weave

I just got back from a ride with good ole EH from work. We rode up into our usual Balance Rock State Park area and did some good ole riding. It was pretty much business as usual as we rode up the road towards the trails. I felt kind of bad running over all of the caterpillars who were making their way across the road, but there wasn't anything I could do. Plus, they were going in every direction, so it was obvious they had no idea what they hell they were doing.

No sooner did we turn onto the trail than EH came to a screeching halt accompanied by a "BLACH! YUCK! AWWW, GROSS!" As I followed him onto the trail, I too was ensnared by an invisible web of some sort. This was no spider web, it was far too sticky and far too strong. My first thought was that it was the work of the Spider King, who you may recall has had it in for me all year. After that, I thought of the tent worms.

Tent worms aren't worms at all - rather they are caterpillars - but they do live in tents. They build these tents in trees, bushes and so on and just wait for Memorial Day Weekend when they rappel down and get all over everything. What's worse, is that they don't just drop to the ground. No, they dangle just waiting for you to ride by on your bike so you can get nasty ass caterpillars all over your body. And their rappelling strings - like those of spiders - are wicked sticky and wicked strong. You touch one of these and forget about it, you're wearing it home.

Anyway, we rode for about 45 minutes up the mountain in the heat and humidity until we hit a good stopping point. I dismounted to use nature's plumbing. As I stood there, I could hear the onslaught of a serious thunderstorm making its way towards us. A tent worm rappelled into my face. I hopped back on my bike and told EH that we were in for a nasty one. He took that as an opportunity to pee. While he peed, I admired the beautiful vista which, despite the high tension power lines, was absolutely gorgeous. Through the trees you could see for miles and there were just layers upon layers of mountains. With the muggy evening haze, it looked like something out of an old movie.

He finished peeing.

We rode down a "bony" trail for a while until we finally hit a turnoff. Heh heh, "bony" is cool trail-rider speak for "rocky as hell and mad dangerous". As soon as we turned off onto more reasonable trails the clouds opened up and just dumped rain on us. We rode the rest of the mountain in an allout downpour. It was really quite fun, plus the tent worms seemed to have been washed out of the air. The downfall was that the rocks and exposed roots were wicked slippery, and we both almost spilled a few times.

Once, my foot came out of the toe clip and I caught the business end of the pedal to the back of my leg (see picture). I thought it hurt because it hit a mosquito bite, but it really hurt because it cut the hell out of me. The picture doesn't do it justice because I had already showered up for the night and the bleeding had stopped. But rest assured, I didn't stop for no wuss ass scratch. No siree, I put my foot back in the toe clip and headed downhill, across a few streams, back uphill, then downhill again, then across the road to the car.

Also, if you think I shave my ankles because there is no hair on them you are wrong. It's a common thing with dudes, and especially common with me. It's due to my socks. It's a perfect line right where the sock hits. I think my pillow is doing the same thing to the top of my head. Damn that pillow! Why must your down stuffing be so comfy? Why?

So there you have it folks. And because of the storm I wasn't able to work on the rock hole. Damn you storm!

Over and out,
Old Coot