Jamieson

Today I rode 400km to Jamieson and back via the newly sealed Eildon-Jamieson Road. To tell the truth it was wearisome on that tight road with its endless 180 degree corners and gravel-strewn tar, but this was balanced by the ever present sunlight and water, and their glittering meeting.




For a long stretch the water in the river below was only seen in glimpses at best, and often was only hinted at.



The notions of glimpses and hints are very important to my riding. I will say more about this soon, just as I have done in the past. I want to talk about the unconsciousness of place. It is and it is not the unconsciousness of a mind analogous to a human's: landscape, place, these do not have a mind or Mind (at least so I believe), but being in the places that I ride draws from the rider a sense of things "out there", enfolded in the mysteries of time and place, which is a synthesis of that rider's own imagination, knowledge and unconscious with the place itself and the poetic fact that a place's past is enfolded within it.





Yesterday I browsed at the latest offering from the wonderful International Journal of Motorcycle Studies, and I enjoyed this piece.



This song echoed in my head as I rode into the late day.