When faced with what sounds like gauntlet of gunfire or maybe the musket gun civil war, you have two options; duck and take cover or pedal faster. We choose the later. The gun fire came from all sides near and far. Someone had told us that the hunting season starts soon, but this couldn’t be from hunters. The hunting season conjured images of thousands of deer or maybe pheasants running about in a field with ten drunk men firing single shots at random intervals, ultimately seemed false. But it was these images that began to help us devise an explanation and comfort our minds; indeed we were not entering a war zone. However, still unconfirmed, we are quite certain that this is the celebratory tradition of announcing the ripening of the grapes and to keep the pesky critters out of the vineyards.

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