If you read some of my earlier posts, you might recall that I actually enjoy riding in fog.
That's kind of ironic when you consider one of my rules about riding in the rain: I won't do it if the precip is falling so densely that I can't see more than two bike lengths ahead of me. Somehow, though, it's easier (for me, anyway) to navigate--and pedal--through even the densest fogs. Hey, I've actually ridden through clouds, when ascending and descending mountains in Vermont and the French Alps. Compared to that, navigating a mist is easy.
Perhaps my enjoyment of riding under such conditions has to do with the structure of my eyes: After all, I love riding (or walking or just about anything else) in the diffuse light of places like Paris, Copenhagen and Prague, and of overcast days at nearly any seashore.
Perhaps the best thing about such light and mist is the way it brings out autumnal hues:
What is it about bikes that they are (to my eyes, anyway) best photographed in the fall?
That's kind of ironic when you consider one of my rules about riding in the rain: I won't do it if the precip is falling so densely that I can't see more than two bike lengths ahead of me. Somehow, though, it's easier (for me, anyway) to navigate--and pedal--through even the densest fogs. Hey, I've actually ridden through clouds, when ascending and descending mountains in Vermont and the French Alps. Compared to that, navigating a mist is easy.
Perhaps my enjoyment of riding under such conditions has to do with the structure of my eyes: After all, I love riding (or walking or just about anything else) in the diffuse light of places like Paris, Copenhagen and Prague, and of overcast days at nearly any seashore.
Perhaps the best thing about such light and mist is the way it brings out autumnal hues:
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| From Favim |
What is it about bikes that they are (to my eyes, anyway) best photographed in the fall?
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