Wind is an asshole. I have no patience left for it. It has all of it been used up, gone, finished. It is the only force that I’m aware of (with the possible exception of gravity) that is more stubborn and less willing to listen to reason than I myself am. It blows me around on my bike, it embezzles speed from my Magnificent Stroke. No matter how emphatically I lose my temper with it, no matter the unprintable curses and insults I hurl in its direction, it just keeps on blowing like a big stupid blowing thing.
The weather systems that move in and out of the Puget Sound Convergence Zone are accompanied by a gale and, and as every Cyclist knows, gales blow exclusively against the direction of travel. With the changing seasons come the frequent storm systems and the unreliability of the meteorologists is amplified by the complexity of the weather patterns. Taking Bike Number One is a gamble during any of these times, but sometimes living dangerously feels better than it is sensible. Every now and then, taking #1 when you really shouldn’t can offer a bit of much-needed redemption.
Fall winds steel us for the arrival of colder, darker days. Winter around here comes with less wind, but with annoyances of its own. Our friends in more harsh climates than mine will agree: we have had a dark Winter here in the Northern Hemisphere. Seattle is a mild place to live, but even here the damp, cold, short days have taken their toll. The sun is down when I arrive at work, and it is down when I leave for home. With vitamin D in short supply, our moods sour, the chickens stop laying their eggs (there is no creature more entitled than a clucking chicken who refuses to lay an egg), and alcohol, food, and sloth start looking like viable plans of remediation.
But as Winter makes its slow exit, the winds begin to blow once again and Spring starts to dot hints that she is about to make her entrance. The redbud trees are in blossom, and the Earth is letting loose the green stalks of tulips and crocuses. The work we did over the winter was supposed to make us feel strong and fast; instead, trees bow to our arrival as the wind pushes against our face and robs us of the free flight that a Cyclist in form works so hard to achieve.
Nevertheless, this weekend I rode with bare legs, the strong headwind filling my senses with the fresh smell of damp, life-giving earth and budding blossoms. Rebirth is infectious and like the trees and plants around me, so too have I been reborn.
Wind might well be an asshole, but when it signals warmer, brighter days it somehow seems more tolerable. Vive la Vie Velominatus.
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@Teocalli That looks a bit little bit lumpy for a fenlander like me.
@Chris
Yeah - even the rest stops are not exactly at Fen level over there. Just back from living at 2,875 metres which can be a challenge in itself when you first live at that altitude. Interestingly our bodies seem to acclimatise faster once we had been going there for a couple of years. Not sure whether that is fact or not but it definitely feels as though it is easier vs the first couple of seasons we spent out there.
@The Oracle
It was nice yesterday, wasn't it? Lunchtime was gorgeous. If you went east first, no wonder the ride back was hard - that was a sneaky SW wind we had. Did a sweet 65kms in the evening and other than tons of melt water, it was great to wear slightly lighter clothing and feel a modicum of warmth in the air. Friggin 20s tomorrow though. Mother Nature is such as teaser.
@Teocalli Altitude can be a bugger to get used to. I spent a month on a hydro electric power scheme (2,900m at night, 3,500m during the day) in the Andes about ten years ago. I wasn't into road bikes back then and smoked a bit as well. It was pretty foggy at that time of the year which didn't help.
@wiscot
"Teaser" is right. Nothing too promising on the long-range forecast, either. The wind was tricky yesterday. Fond du Lac is situated on low ground on the south end of Lake Winnebago, so you can be lulled into a false sense of security. Once you get up onto the Ledge east of town, however, there's nothing there to protect you. I suppose that's why the entire east side of the lake is lined with windmills nowadays. And that's where I choose to do most of my riding!
I was sopping wet by the time I reached the homestead as well. This is the time of the year in Wisconsin when it rains "up" instead of down.
@PeakInTwoYears
Eventually I'll move up there. As soon as I get my boat done.
@The Oracle
Gorgeous it was, gentlemen, even a bit further north of you! Fender bikes are the schnitz for this stuff.
@ChrissyOne
Heh, my father-in-law moved there not so long ago, and has the hand-built boat to match. He's just building himself and his family a house, too. While I'm at it, if anyone has any leather (or wood) that needs care -- Brooks saddles, motorcycle gear, tack, and the like -- he makes some of the best stuff going: skidmores.com [/shamelessly blatant plug]
It is a lovely town, and there's a nice little bike shop just off the downtown main street, too. I was on a rental commuter, but it's a great place to cycle.
I'm so jealous of all the locations where the weather has turned. As I drove home yesterday in +8 degrees and relatively dry roads I began to plan a weekend ride to kick of the season. Then I checked the forecast to find 5-10 cm of snow on the way tomorrow followed by daytime highs in the -6 range for another week or two.
I promise I wouldn't bitch about the wind if only it would be spring.
@teleguy57 Where are you situated, teleguy?