I spend a LOT of time on the city bike path system especially around the Glenmore Reservoir (aka ‘The Rez’) and  the Fish Creek area.  So much time, in fact, that my trusty 15-year-old mountain bike could probably do the route itself given the chance.  My good rides often result in a quick time fuelled by arguments in my head with people who irk me (which I always win).  My most enjoyable rides occur when I’m alone with my thoughts and nature.

I know where the best wild bee balm meadow is and where I’ll see the most blanket flowers.  I’m familiar with where to expect flitting yellow warblers, and where a merganser family replaced the loon gang near the water’s edge.  I enjoy watching the South American swallows swirl around their birdie condominiums that they build each year under one of the bridges.  I’ve named the mallards who putter around on the beaver pond in the Weaselhead leaving trails on its colourful algae ‘skin’.  Only once have I gleaned a fleeting look at one of the shy beavers before he dove into the coagulated green water.  I laugh when I see his giant toothy marks on the man-made wooden supports at the path’s edge.  I have witnessed several deer, but only one spotted fawn with her mom heading into the safety of the aspens just last week.  My bear interaction has luckily been limited to recognizing his scat only – in the middle of the pathway.  Didn’t he know he was supposed to go in the woods?

One day near Woodbine, a passing cyclist yelled “BIG CAT!”  I was stunned into stopping where I saw a beautiful wild cat calmly staring back at me.  My silent awe was shattered by a fireman yelling, “M’am.  Uh, M’AM!  Her kitten is up a tree over here, so maybe you’d like to be on your way”.  Oops.

I see lots of dogs in the off-leash areas.  Big dogs, little dogs, hairy dogs, dogs chasing balls, rolling in the mud, playing with their doggie buddies.  Mostly their owners are a good bunch, but there’s a few who mistake OFF LEASH for Canine Right of Way.  Safety first!  Interestingly, I find the pooches pay more attention to my bell-dinging than the owners do.

Speaking of PEOPLE (!), my unofficial survey clearly revealed that only about half of cyclists wear helmets, and of those only 80% have it on correctly with the strap fastened.  While kids are compliant (it’s the law), parents often aren’t.  I wonder about the dubious rationale of the lone parent pulling a Chariot with a (helpless) toddler inside.  As an ER nurse, I am dumbfounded by those who won’t protect themselves from drooling on a pillow for the rest of their lives.  Evidence of path danger is made obvious by the presence of large bloodstains, rubber skid marks and battered railings on the steep sections.

I confess I don’t understand why path strollers obviously not at ‘the game’ insist on wearing often ill-fitting sports jerseys emblazoned with athlete’s names on the backs.  I get the fan part, but… um, is it necessary to show your preference off to park attendees?  I mean, I don’t wear a giant jersey with AVOCADO written on it in block letters.

In closing, several burning rez questions come to mind:

1. Why do pedestrians on this well-signed bike path system seem so freakishly surprised when they see…. a BIKE?
2. Has the beaver pond ever been used to hide a body?  It is so foul-smelling and coagulated with green and red slime from early in the season that no one’s diving in to check.
3. Has anyone else noticed that the contour of the rez is eerily similar to the anatomy of a stomach?

I guess that’s just me.  🙂