Ride # 3: The Training Begins in Earnest

January 18, 2014, 8:30 AM

The takeaway from today? When in doubt, press on. That's an approach right out of the Virginian's wheelhouse.

I shouldn't have been able to ride today. There was snow predicted. Maybe a few inches by noon. But it wasn't snowing when I snapped the picture above, the now traditional pre-ride view down the sidewalk from the front porch. I hustled inside and geared up, only to re-emerge 15 minutes later to see a gathering skein of snow crystals on the sidewalk and an unfortunately steady falling of more. I set out anyway. Went a block and realized I'd forgotten the paper bag. And realized too the windbreaker I thought I didn't need, I needed. So went back, got them, and pressed on.

Bruegelian Byways Into the Hills

And weirdly, the snow began to trail off. And as I got across town and started climbing into the hills on the usual Sholan Loop route, it had stopped completely. The roads were vaguely damp, not wet. The light was like the light in Bruegel's masterpiece of late snowy village afternoon, Hunters in the Snow (1565).

On the long gradual climb up to the hilltop orchards, I passed a dead rabbit, probably hit in the last 24 hours so I count it as fresh road kill. Conditions were too dicey and time too valuable to stop and rustle out my phone to take a picture, so I went on. And within moments I heard a cacophony of squawking ahead. I glanced up to see a grave and perilous moment of imminent roadkill.

Two tufted titmice in aerial combat, their talons locked together, their slate gray bodies plummeting to the pavement. And cars approaching from ahead and from behind. I acted instantly, veering across the road waving my gloved hand at them and shouting "he-YA!" It worked. They split up just before hitting the tarmac and flew off. I veered back across the road and resumed my rhythm. Success!

It snowed intermittently. At one point, huge lazy flakes floated down, the kind you used to try catching on your tongue. Almost no cars. Just about freezing, maybe a degree or two below. And beautiful. The stark skeletal tree silhouettes against the snowy landscape. A cawing crow. Blackbirds scattered through the top of a grizzled old maple tree. A flock of robins bounding over the still bare south-facing Sholan Farm dun colored hilltop.

Sholan Farm

And later it snowed more heavily. In fact, I'd ridden for an hour and was heading back, no precipitation happening, and the little Virginian sitting on my shoulder said 'maybe you should just ride back up to Sholan and get another half an hour into this ride, you need to train for the Rasputitsa, after all'. So I did. Powered back up the hill and snapped the photo above. Checked out the robins. And then suddenly realized that the snow had started. It came on quickly and in no time it was steady and the dun roadside was dusted in white.

I hastened into the saddle and hammered downhill. The snow was coming up from the lower elevations so I rode directly into it. What exhilaration! The smack of the snowy crystals onto my helmet and cheeks, the lashing of my windbreaker, the splacky roadside gutter cack blurry beneath my wheels! Yes!

Ride Stats: 19.81 miles (31k), 13.6 mph, about 90 minutes pedaling. Inclement conditions. About 32 degrees. Weight, 146.4 lbs (66kg). Roadkill: one rabbit. Road Rescue: two tufted titmouse.