Gianluca Drago
Well-Known Member
The forecast promised fog — perfect weather for photographs. I get up early, sling the camera over my shoulder, hop on the bike and head towards the edge of town. A dirt track runs along the river; there isn’t a soul about.
The floodplain is thick with tall, dark trees. At one point I notice strange little mounds in the undergrowth — artificial, almost like a tiny Machu Picchu waiting to be discovered. I can’t see how to reach them: the guard rail runs unbroken and there’s no sign of a path. So I climb over and make my way down.
I like the place, but I can’t work out who might have shaped those low, curved hills. Then it clicks: it’s a BMX trail. I spot a couple of signs — “The River Trail” and “No digging, no riding.”
It must be a group of local kids who, with shovels, wheelbarrows and bits of salvaged material, have quietly built themselves a small playground — something to enjoy without bothering anyone.
I like that idea.
Here are a few photos.
The floodplain is thick with tall, dark trees. At one point I notice strange little mounds in the undergrowth — artificial, almost like a tiny Machu Picchu waiting to be discovered. I can’t see how to reach them: the guard rail runs unbroken and there’s no sign of a path. So I climb over and make my way down.
I like the place, but I can’t work out who might have shaped those low, curved hills. Then it clicks: it’s a BMX trail. I spot a couple of signs — “The River Trail” and “No digging, no riding.”
It must be a group of local kids who, with shovels, wheelbarrows and bits of salvaged material, have quietly built themselves a small playground — something to enjoy without bothering anyone.
I like that idea.
Here are a few photos.
