lundi 12 octobre 2009
The Art of Riding in the Rain
Rain in California seldom lasts long and it’s usually quite predictable. So if you are careful, with reasonably cheap equipment you can join the ranks of the fearless rain riders.
First of all, cargo. Many of us commute with important computing materials, paper artifacts, non soluble foods and spare clothing that we’d prefer to keep dry. You probably have nice waterproof panniers, but, as my kayak instructor used to say, there is no such thing as waterproof, only different degrees of wetness. To keep wetness away as much as possible from precious cargo, I usually pack year round plastic bags (trash bags are just fine) and keep them at the bottom of the panniers. Before leaving under the rain, I make sure to shove all my important stuff in the bag. Zip up the panniers, and you are reasonably sure everything will be dry as bread on arrival.
Clothing varies. In general, in California, I’d advise to layer wisely. It’s usually not that cold when it rains, and it’s easy to overdo it. In other words, don’t pedal in a parka.
Upper body: I use a standard light waterproof jacket with a hood. It’s a really cheap one I picked up in an outlet somewhere, one size bigger than what I would normally wear, so I can layer anything underneath, and have better lower-body protection. Some people, especially those of the short hair/no hair persuasion use hoodless jackets, of the kind that roadies use. However, I found out that unfortunately on many of those cold streams of water easily find their way down the collar area, and you might want to prevent that. I usually wear my helmet on top of the hood. It might look odd, but it keeps everything in place, even in relatively strong winds.
Lower body: there are divergent school of thoughts. Some people have found that there is something more waterproof and breathable than Gore-TexTM: human skin. Those people pedal in the rain in shorts and sandals, dry up on arrival and wear dry clothes (see above for how to make sure you have those at destination). Others prefer a standard waterproof over-pants on tough hiking or mountain biking shoes. What you choose will probably depend on your attitude and even more on your latitude.
Lights: I feel for those poor car drivers, especially those of the breeder variety. Many of them are juggling frantic schedules, fielding phone calls, failing to discipline their kids on the back sear, and often all at once! Plus they get bored a lot, I mean, wouldn’t you be bored if you were locked in one of those metal and glass cages? So I see more and more of them texting while driving. Even with sunshine, it’s not surprising that so few of them seem to notice us or to make the effort to use those turning lights to let us know which way they intend to go. So imagine when the weather turns bad (and those wipers are so much difficult to use than the blinkers!). So try to be as visible as possible. I have reflectors on my rain gears, and of course on the bike, and if it’s pouring I keep my lights on even in daylight, switched on blinking mode.
Don’t let the occasional shower ruin an otherwise perfectly good riding day!
dimanche 12 octobre 2008
Riding in the Santa Ynez Valley is....
...avoiding the tarantula crossing in front of you...
...dreaming to be the red tailing hawk hunting and surfing the Santa Ana winds...
...thanking the field hands working on sunday, all covered up to beat the wind and the sun...
...letting the guy with the tri bike pass you, only to catch him at the next hill and leave him panting behind...
...laughing at the tourists driving hummers stuck in Solvang traffic....
....chilly in the morning, hot at noon, windy always...
...surprising: after climbing Harris Grade, even Lompoc does not look half bad from above, and far away...
...certainty that whatever the event or your dietary needs, there will be a tri-tip BBQ at the end...
...just awesome. You should try it sometimes!
samedi 4 octobre 2008
Fantozzi's Cloud
Many Italians are familiar with the figure of speech "Nuvola di Fantozzi". For the others, please see the illustration below:I'll call it the "Tourmalet Curse": ever since this past summer's Etape, every organized ride I'm in is doomed to be a wet one. This morning's Harvest Ride was no exception: after one of the hottest October weeks I remember, I guess it was time for some refreshing rain. We left comfily at 8 this morning from Ventura, looking ahead to an easy ride. The course was mostly flat, with a few classic, and very short climbs (Gubernador Canyon, Skofield Park to El Cielito etc.). One hundred easy miles which came to a sudden stop when my riding partner Dom calls a flat. It doesn't matter, we passed plenty of people already in the 6.5 miles we had been riding. Just one more chance to pass them again.
Then right after the tire is fixed with the kind assistance of the Rotary club SAG team the tube blows up again, scaring almost to death one of the two SAG people. Meanwhile, two more riders pass us, then no one is apparently left. We better move before people from the family ride start arriving and tossing candy at us.
Dom fixes the second flat, and we have the time for a quick rest stop for the rain to start in earnest. This is a familiar scenario to me. First you get drenched, then when you can't stand it anymore you put on a rain jacket. Now you are still drenched but relatively warm. As long as you don't stop of course. I was almost envying the guy with a Rivendell Saluki, full fenders double headlights and tires. Looked like a 2-ton machine of iron and chrome, but at least he did not have a constant stream of water freshening up his nether parts. And clean water it wasn't: pretty soon I realize I'm completely covered in road grime, my legs look like they belong to a neanderthal, but it was not additional hair growing, just tar. After all it hasn't rained in the area for five months or so, and the ash of the Gap Fire was still on the ground. Luckily, I think I took most of it home, so now other, smarter people can go out riding and come back clean.
I also realized that this ride for some reason was taking us through UCSB. I felt quite bad to ride to my workplace on a Saturday. I felt even worse realizing I had to drive to Ventura first to get there. It was too much, I knew had to pull another Tourmalet. After all, 250 yards from the road back lays my house, a warm shower, a hairy dog --feathers for my tarred legs were not available, so I just had to cover myself in dog hair instead.
At the end of the day, I had ridden about a hundred kilometers. After all, I'm European, I guess I'm doomed to measure my athletic achievement in metric units, willing or not. Another occasion for an imperial hundred will present itself soon enough. Local populations, beware, and dust off your umbrellas: I'll be pedaling through town, the black malicious cloud right over my head....