Today was one of those days when you look at your weather app and it promises a chilly ride, but as soon as you get outside you start shedding layers. The sunny warmth convinced me to head up the Charles River Greenway towards Watertown. Somewhere in the back of my head I decided that I’d stay on the path until it ended, but otherwise I had no particular agenda.

One advantage of this path is that it has various interruptions, a few awkward zig-zags, and unpaved sections. These deter a lot of the Strava-whipped S-Works dauphins who blast up and down some other local paths like the Minuteman, generally making for a more relaxed and neighborly riding environment. The path more or less hugs the meandering river, mostly on the left side as you’re heading west against the flow.

I caught the path at the newly renovated Anderson Memorial Bridge coming out of Harvard Square. State Troopers were directing traffic as people made their way to the stadium for the football game. Just past Eliot Bridge I ran into the tail end of a charity walk to fight blindness, where a little girl was being awarded Best Costume for dressing up as Glinda the Good Witch.

The section past the bustling Community Rowing boathouse offers some nice river scenery. A turtle with a fiery orange belly absorbed the sun on a log, while a trio of swans warily eyed the progress of a lone sculler. After Watertown Square I encountered a bunch of elderly folk, maybe an outing from an assisted living facility, enjoying the friendly weather on benches and folding chairs along the riverbank. On one bench, a cluster of men huddled around a sheet of paper, singing what sounded like an old drinking song in an Eastern European language.

The path forks at about this point. For a while, the branch on the south side of the river is packed dirt and boardwalk running through a forest of tall trees but disappointingly soon reverts to pavement. Towards the western end of Watertown there’s an old artificial waterfall where a man in waders was fly-fishing and smoking a cigar. I waited around to see if he caught anything. It seems that fly fishing is a pursuit for the patient optimist, but it’s not hard to see the appeal.

I ended up in Waltham Common, now 10 miles out from home. While Watertown can feel like an extension of Cambridge, Waltham is different, harder-edged and a little more vacant. It was hard to find a bike rack on the sidewalk, but I was ready for a break and some coffee, so I reluctantly locked up at an inverted U in front of an unoccupied storefront on the corner of the common. There were no other bikes and I definitely wasn’t entirely comfortable leaving it there.

Down the block, I ducked into Leo’s Place Diner and took a seat at the counter. Ironically, this was originally on JFK Street in Cambridge, where I’d met the river an hour and a half earlier. The diner had opened there in 1949. Most of the businesses from that era are gone or scattered to the suburbs. When Leo’s Place had to move a few years ago, it was the oldest diner in Harvard Square. For the last 35 years it’s been run by a pair of Armenian immigrant brothers. Raffi poured me coffee while Richie scrambled eggs on the griddle.

Revitalized by their efforts, I got back on the bike and headed home. The ride back always feels shorter. It helps that the river runs just slightly downhill. It was a great ride, a rare gift to get at the very end of October.