Mother Nature can be amazing sometimes
Like ...take today, for example. No, wait. Take yesterday first: A stellar day - bright, clear, sunny, 'short sleeve shirt' warm. Perfect for three vintage neighboring ladies (let's call them F (me), G (my cycling neighbor), and L (a mutual equestrian neighbor) to take a trio of ebikes out for a spin around the block. L wanted to try out an ebike for the first time as her hubby, who is an avid cyclist and is "very intense when he rides" is "not fun" (in her words) for her to ride with him. She needed a bike that could keep up without her giving up halfway through a ride. She foxhunts, so her legs are strong, but her damaged knee is an issue. Too much pedal pressure and it gives up. Well, not only was the short, relaxing 13 mile spin-around-the-block fun as well as entertaining, but it was such a success that G emailed me to say L went to the bike store today all eager and ready to purchase her own ebike right then and there. (G and I will find out tomorrow if the store had one her size in stock or if she had to order it).
Of course, this brings us, in a tortured roundabout way, to today. A day that saw, in less than 12 hours overnight, a 25°f free fall in the temperature from a balmy 70°f (21°c) with sunny bright skies down to a bone chilling 45°f (7.2°c) with cold rain and apocalyptic skies. And wouldn't you know that Mother Nature's amusing about-face happened right smack dab on the day of the
80/60/40 mile Gravel Grinder bike ride being held in our area. The one day, out of an entire year of cancelled bike rides. The one day that an big organized bike ride could actually be permitted. The one day that 456 avid gravel cyclists, all champing at the bit for finally having one ride, ONE RIDE, they could go to in this sorry year of lockdowns and cancellations.
And yet, despite the relentless rain, despite the uncompromising cold, despite the dusty gravel roads turning into ribbons of thin gray mud, despite the autumn splendor of the mountains which had, just yesterday, dressed up in their finest colors (just yesterday!!) being overwhelmed by gray fog and gray rain - despite it all, there was nothing but excitement and smiles from the hundreds of cyclists gleefully tossing away the pent up angst of months of pandemic depression for a memorably fun, albeit wet and bonechilling, ride on western Loudoun County's gravel roads.
And I was right there in the midst of it, grin and all.
A "today" shot, and a "before today" shot of the same stretch of road - this being part of the bike ride's second loop.
It was a toss up as to whether I would ride my bike the 8 miles to the ride site, or ferry it on the bike rack via the car. The rain would be the determining factor. By 9am, as we were moving our bike-riding skeleton porch decoration down to the end of the driveway to tickle the funny bones of the riders that would pass by our farm (the beginning of the second loop for all the distances rolled right past our driveway), the rain moved from indecisive to malicious. Even so, the 80 milers were already enroute, heads down but smiles still big. We had one stop and turn his bike around, laughing, just to take a photo of Mr. Bones on his blue bike. (Shown here still on our porch, waiting to get situated at the end of the driveway to greet everyone passing by)
We did end up loading the bike on the carrier rack and driving down to the ride. Covid restrictions in place and masks on everyone didn't diminish the excitement and anticipation in the air, the lively music playing over the loudspeakers, the flocks of bundled up volunteers ready and happy to help guide everyone into the parking area and send them on their way to the start. All the participants had selected their arrival and departure times from blocks of 15 minutes increments. Each block was limited to a set number of people (I think 17 was the maximum) and they were setting off riders in 5 minute intervals. All for social distance purposes. I went out with 3 other riders, and we were off. Riding in the rain. In the cold. For 60 miles.
It. Was. AWESOME!!!
Now, I will admit that my bike was obviously less than pleased as to having been carted to the ride behind a car, in the rain. As I set off up the first hill and put pressure on my pedals my motor announced it's displeasure by a rather loud whine, similar to one produced by a nest of bees when one pokes a stick in the hive and stirs things about. That type of sound. A whole nest of angry bees. A whole LOUD nest of angry bees.
My heart dropped. I wasn't a mile from the ride site and with the motor disagreeably buzzing away, I was already debating just riding the 8 miles back home. The bike must have felt my sinking happiness, and finally told the motor to knock off the noise before we got to passing anyone as the angry bee cacophony would have been embarrassing to say the very least. The motor shut up, and the bike commenced to silently float along the paved road. We got to the first gravel road with a flourish and a renewed smile that didn't let up for the remainder of the ride.
Below: Alain from Washington DC and his friend from Norfolk, Virginia on the 60 mile ride. Alain and I had been chatting earlier about my ebike and the lovely gravel roads in the area (he was so impressed by them and that I was so fortunate to live here). I rode ahead and then stopped to take this photo to send to him. He stopped to give me his email, and later that night I received a wonderful thank you email from both him and his friend when they received it.
The rest stops were busy with cyclists and bikes galore. This was the rest stop (#1 and #3 combined) just a mile up the road from my place. All three distances stopped here twice.
Despite being dressed like a 5 year old being sent out to play in the snow by an overprotective mom, I could still feel a bit of chill, even through the foul weather defense of my Key West yachting jacket, my sweatshirt, and my cycling shirt. My hands, thankfully, stayed warm, as did the hands of the other cyclists that I talked to enroute. However, the prevailing comment from every one was that their feet were freezing. Checking out the shoes I noticed that all were the breathable type. I would grin and hold my foot out, wiggling my winter grade waterproof heavy duty rubber barn muckers and got the "man, were you smart!" comments from one and all.
The rain enveloped us all, plinking softly on our jackets, sending watery driplines along our helmet brims, and softening the roads into a fine mud that soon covered every bike from stem to stern as the miles rolled by under our wheels. By the time we all hit the 2nd rest stop, almost every bike was a dull grainy gray. Half of them you couldn't tell what color they had been at the start. Those riders without bike fenders were soon sporting a line of mud spray up their backs. One fellow who stopped to take a break on the side of the road - where I and another cyclist had stopped and were talking about a bald eagle sitting up in a tree limb well over our heads - actually had a faceful of mud splatter. I didn't mean to stare, but I was awestruck at how something like that could happen. He didn't seem to care, and so the three of us had fun discussing the magnificent bird in the tree who was studiously ignoring us way down at ground level.
Even as the rain came and went, and the miles rolled on, I was noticing that my battery was being rapidly consumed by the motor. Much more so that was normal. Not sure if it was the slow going, the unremitting use of high assist, or what, but I knew I'd have barely enough in both batteries to do the whole 60 miles at the rate my bike was sucking those electrons. I had already stopped in at home after the first loop to swap batteries and leave the first battery to recharge while I rode the 2nd loop, but I was having second thoughts, debating the wisdom of doing the full 60 miles. I would be arriving home on fumes at the end of the third loop on the fully recharged first battery, even taking the 3 mile shortcut home. It was shaving things a bit too close for me. If the weather and roads hadn't been so yucky, I would have swapped the LaFree for the Vado with its much longer range battery. But there was no way on earth that I was going to subject my precious Vado to the weather and road conditions, not to mention the creek crossing that was part of the 3rd loop. The LaFree's carbon belt drive was custom made for any crap that Ma Nature wanted to throw at it, and, of course, the bike was performing flawlessly at the moment. But the Vado with its sweet, clean, sparkling chain? Not a chance, pal. Not when I looked at the other bikes glopping up easily 10 lbs of gravel road mud and grit onto their chains until you couldn't see the metal links at all. Everything was just solid mud.
So, by the end of the 2nd loop, with almost 33 miles of mud, rain, cold, and obscured views under my belt, and a building chill in my upper body, it was time to call it a day. I graciously thanked the volunteers at the rest stop, and then turned my bike to travel the 1 mile back home.
As I was pulling up my driveway, the rains began again. I stopped and turned to watch some of the bikes in the 40 mile division as they passed by on the road, heading out for their second loop, and knew, despite everything, they were going to have a great time. I was lucky the 2nd loop ended practically at my doorstep, and within minutes was in the warmth of the house, shedding wet clothing while my bike sat in the garage plugged in to start replenishing a much depleted battery.
I only paused in the house long enough to get dry clothing, then hubby and I jumped in the car to head back to the ride start to let them know I was finished for the day. Several 60 mile riders, those whose start times were much earlier this morning, were already back at the finish, sitting at their cars shedding wet socks for dry ones, and loading filthy muddy bikes onto the car racks for the drive home. Hubby and I collected my event shirt, beer glass with the ride logo, and then we swung over to the food tent to get starving hubby a pulled pork sandwich for all the (not) hard work he'd done while I was out biking in the rain. I had asked him conversationally, as we were driving to the ride site, what he had done while I was gone.
"Nothing" he answered.
I frowned and glanced at him. "What do you mean, nothing. You didn't do anything?"
"Nope", he said nonplussed without a trace of guile or guilt. I was completely flummoxed.
"You mean all this time while I was gone... and considering I've been gone for hours... you did nothing??"
He paused, thinking for a moment. "I let the dogs in", he said.
I shook my head in disbelief. My hubby is too funny. He felt his contribution, or grand lack thereof, to the rain soaked morning by reclining on the couch watching TV, not to mention also letting in the dogs to recline with him, was well worth a pulled pork sandwich. Who was I to disagree.
Tomorrow is supposed to be gorgeous again. Warm, bright, sunny. My trusty bike will get a much needed bath, and my one horse will get his much needed clip that I've been meaning to give him for the past week or so, but haven't due to being endlessly sidetracked by bike stuff. No bike stuff tomorrow. If I'm going to wash my bike clean I need the roads to dry before G and I head off for one of our regular rides. And who knows, maybe L will join us again, either on her new ebike or one of ours while she waits for her new ebike to arrive. I can't wait to hear her stories once she starts cycling with her hubby again. She's going to smoke him on every hill, and laugh as she's doing it. Just you wait and see.
