Rocinante and the Volcanic Slag
I saddled up and loaded the steel steed with requisite equipment and bags, including a sandwich for the road. We passed the first brief leg of the trip racked with doubt and trepidation. If everything went as planned, it would be our longest ride together. Of course, if things went other than as planned, the ride could be our last. We both took fuel, burdening the visa and lightening the lunchbox. With a half sandwich to fortify my commitment to a potentially rash decision. I revved my buttercup Rocinante onto the open road. Although all the apps augured sunshine, the dark clouds foretold differently and with greater authority. We discovered rain within the hour. It was but a taste of the adventure to come and barely wet my helm. When we left the busy thoroughfare for the mountain passes, our course attracted nature's eye. On the ascending trails it seemed the storm had already passed, but when we mounted to the high plateau we rode straight into nature's wrath. She struck wi...