the bard

Last night we went to King Lear performed by the Free Will Players at the Hawrelak Park amphitheater. We met Oldest Son and his girlfriend there.

I rode my bike into Edmonton again, along Highway 16A. It was pretty busy at 5:00 p.m., but not too terrifying. The worst part was under one of the overpasses where the light was dim and the gravel was thicker than it appeared. I skidded a bit, but regained control and all was good. From 16A I exited to the Anthony Henday and then 87th Avenue. I took a different multi-use path this time, turning right at the first path I came to. This is obviously a very old path of its ilk and is about half the width of the newer ones. But it does the trick. I rode from there through a nice quiet neighbourhood until I came to another path heading south. That led to the first overpass that goes across the Whitemud. I'd never taken that before, so chalked up another "first." This leads to 76th Avenue, which in turn leads to the 69th Avenue bike lane. I rode on this into Wolf Willow and through the Ravine to Patricia Heights. This was another first, and an interesting one. From the residential street, the path looked superb -- nice and wide, paved, painted middle line, the full monty. I rode happily along -- then my stomach lurched when I came to the downhill part. It was steep. Of course I knew that what goes down must come up, so I was ready for the big climb on the other side -- or so I thought. The first part was fine. But then the beautiful pavement suddenly became gravel -- the big-chunk, loose kind. After skidding along for a bit, not making a lot of progress, I finally gave up and walked my bike to the top. From there I took a wrong turn and ended up at a dead end, so I u-turned and came back to 76th Avenue, which took me past some rather elegant homes and finally to the bridge that crosses the Whitemud. Here I found myself on the steepest path I have ever encountered. I actually got off and walked down part of the way; my stomach simply couldn't handle the curvy steepness. I'm not sure how much of my nervousness was due to the foreboding signage, warning riders about the steep grade, the possibility of oncoming foot and bicycle traffic, the hairpin curves; but whatever it was, I decided there was nothing in the least shameful in walking down part of a hill. It was an easy ride at the bottom to Laurier Park and from there to Hawrelak, where I met Hubby.

The play was fantastic, as all the Free Will performances always are. I don't know why, but I always forget just how cold it can get on a summer evening under the tent ceiling. I did bring jeans and put those on first thing. Also a wool sweater. Also a shawl. I could have used a few more layers. While we were waiting in line, we were snickering at the people wearing down-filled jackets, but by 9:30 we were eyeing those same people with envy. Nothing like a cool winter summer evening in northern Alberta!