The Same Sky?

Today Isais blew through town.

To be fair, it wasn't quite as bad as I expected it to be.  Yes, we had a lot of rain this morning and early this afternoon. The wind broke a few twigs off trees and cardboard signs off stores.  

Worse was predicted.  The Weather Service even issued a tornado watch for this city, and a warning for Monmouth County, NJ (where I went to high school) and Suffolk County, about 50 kilometers from here.

As clouds thickened, the sky darkened, so the watch/warning was in my mind. So was this cloud formation I saw the other day:

It's hard to believe I was looking at the same sky today.

A New Light And Less Heat To St. Augustine

Yesterday I rode into stiff wind,  though sunshine breaking through trees and opening clouds over the sea.  Then, as I had the wind at my back, a curtain of clouds drew across the sun and darkened, and I got caught in the kind of late-afternoon downpour this part of Florida experiences in summer.  Then again, by that time, the temperature, at about 27C, or 80 F.

Today I pedaled about the same distance--about 100 kilometers--as I did yesterday, but in the opposite direction.  I did that on purpose:  The wind,  not quite as stiff as yesterday's, was blowing from the north instead of the south.  That is probably what dropped the temperature by about 17 degrees Celsius to about 10 C, or 50F. 

The sky and sea even looked colder:

I never saw that kind of light before in Florida--not even at the place in the photos:  Matanzas Bay, where it enters the ocean.  

Under that light I pedaled, against the wind but full of good energy, all the way up Route A1A to the Bridge of Lions, which leads to the historic center of St. Augustine:

I think the temperature dropped by another 10 degrees Celsius when I crossed the bridge.  At least, it felt that way, even after I pedaled to the old fort.

I must say, though, it's a lovely place, even when it's (comparatively) cold and still full of tourists.

And, yes, the skies cleared for my ride back to my parents' house.  And I had the wind at my back.

Seasonal Indecision

Yesterday was one of those days that couldn't seem to decide whether it was very late summer or not-quite-early fall.  

My ride started in a cool mist on Tosca, my Mercian fixed gear.  It was actually pleasant:  I felt every pore and orifice of my body opening in a very pleasant way.

I headed for the Rockaways.  The cool mist clung to silent streets, still homes and closed stores--and to me--as I spun through the western Queens neighborhoods near my apartment.  

But, after I crossed under the "el" (elevated tracks, or viaduct for those of you who don't live in New York), the warm mist turned into a mild steam bath on my way across Jamaica Bay to Beach Channel.  Then, as I crossed the Veteran's Memorial Bridge into the Rockaways--and from the waves and clouds of Jamaica Bay to the tides and sky of the Atlantic--I experienced something I normally experience in early spring:  the temperature seemed to drop 20 degrees (F).  That is normal in April, when the air temperature on the mainland might be in the 70s (F), but the ocean is only in the 40s.  Yesterday, however, the air and water temperature were probably not very far apart:  somewhere near 70F, though it felt cooler along the Rockaway Boardwalk.

It's one of those odd coastal days that I truly enjoy:  The sky is overcast, though still only slightly less blue than the sea on the horizon, and that cool mist swirling about me.  I rode under that sky, by that sea and in that mist all the way to Point Lookout.  

Then the clouds broke and the sun peeked through--at least as I looked eastward from the Point.  Behind me, conditions were the same as the ones through which I'd ridden from the Rockaways.

And that is what I rode in all the way home.  I didn't mind:  Such conditions are actually welcome, at least for me, during the last few kilometers of a 125 kilo fixed gear ride!

Another Day In The Good Life

Sometimes the weather forecasters like to scare us.  Or so it seems.  Today, they gave us dire warnings of "possible" or "likely" thunderstorms this afternoon.

Whatever they were trying to accomplish, their admonitions worked for me.  I got out nice and early for a ride today--on Arielle.  She seemed as happy as I was:  Even when I pedaled into the wind--as I did for about half of my 125-kilometer ride--she just kept on going.  And I felt that I could, too.

In fact, when a very light rain sprinkled the streets, sand and stones of Point Lookout, I wanted to ride even more.  Rain on a warm day can sometimes has that effect on me.  The precipitation, though, didn't last as long as the cup of coffee I drank at the Point.

The clouds looked more ominous than they actually are--at least to me, or anyone else who is familiar with the weather patterns.  The tides swelled, but the clouds were moving south and east--in other words, out to the sea whose waves were growing.

In contrast to yesterday's ride to Connecticut, the trek to the Point is flat, which may be a reason why it seemed so easy.  In fact, my round-trip didn't took four hours, and I wasn't even trying to "make time"--and I took a slightly longer-than-normal route from Forest Park back to my apartment.

By the time I got home, though, I did make time for a nice long European-style lunch:  a cod fillet I poached with  mushrooms and onions I sauteed, along with a simple salad of Boston lettuce, sliced carrots and beets pickled with dill in Balsmic vinegar.  I washed it all down with  a small wedge of Mimolette: a reddish-orange French cheese that looks and tastes oddly, though pleasantly, like butterscotch.  If that doesn't make it a dessert cheese, I don't know what does.

Yes, Max and Marlee got small pieces of cod, too.  I'm not cruel enough to make them watch me while I eat food they'd love without sharing some with them.  Of course, I held the onions, mushrooms and everything else!

I didn't have to go to work today.  I got to ride and have a nice meal, if I do say so myself.  I had the company of two cats.  And I'm going to do some more writing after I finish this post.  Am I privileged, or what?

(I apologize for the photos, which I took with my cheapo cell phone!)

Keeping Hermine At Bay

Sometimes I think meteorologists give us dire weather forecast for long holiday weekends out of resentment. After all, while the rest of us are having fun, they have to stare at computer screens or whatever else they have to look at to tell us The World As We Know It is about to end.

So it was for the weekend that just passed.  First Hurricane/Tropical Storm Hermine was supposed to land on our shores late Saturday afternoon. I figured I could do a ride to Point Lookout before then.

 For much of the day, that prediction seemed accurate:  Ominously dark clouds darkened the sky as the sea churned.  But--wonder of wonders--the clouds broke somewhat and the sun shone through.  So, instead of heading home from Rockaway Beach, I continued along the boardwalk and boulevard to Riis Park and Coney Island, and along the Verrazano Narrows promenade toward my apartment.

We got more or less the same forecast on Sunday:  Hermine in the afternoon.  So I thought I could sneak in a pre-lunch ride, say, to the Rockaways and back.

The weather belied the forecast:  With each mile I rode, the skies brightened, even as  the sea grew choppier and the wind stiffened.  I decided to "play chicken" with Hermine:  I would ride as if I could keep the rain at bay simply by riding.   After a while, I actually started to believe that I could!

Once again, I rode a good bit longer than I originally planned.  I was happy for that:  I did two good days of riding when, according to the weather forecasts, I should have had only one.

But Hermine was still rearing her head.   When I got home, I heard more dire predictions of her paying us a visit some time Monday, Labor Day.  Once again, I took a ride, hoping to get in a few kilometers (or miles) before the storm struck.  But I didn't "play chicken": I stuck with my plan to ride along the North Shore to Fort Totten, a two-hour round trip with a stop to enjoy the view at the Fort.

The rest of the day, though windier, was even brighter than the morning or the day before.  I had a few things to do, so I didn't go back out to ride.  Still, I was happy to have done three rides:  one long , one of medium length and a shorter one.  

Finally, the rain came this morning, just as I was about to go to work.  I lingered just long enough for another cup of tea, and to stroke my cats a few more times.  The rain passed, and I--almost without effort--more than made up for the time I procrastinated and arrived at work a few minutes earlier than I'd planned.

 


The next time someone asks you about the benefits of cycling, tell them that one cyclist (yours truly) "saved" Labor Day weekend:  She kept a hurricane away simply by riding! ;-)   

And to think we all can change so much more by cycling!

I Should Feel Guilty About This, But...

I know I should be worried about climate change. After all, so much of the world's economy, agricultural and otherwise, as well as much in our cultures, depends on the weather patterns we've had during the past few milennia.  If we in Western countries think we're having a "refugee crisis" now, to paraphrase Al Jolson, "We ain't seen nothin' yet."  We're just another drought or monsoon away from a veritable tidal wave of people with nothing. And, to quote the immortal Bob Dylan, "When you ain't got nothing, you've got nothing to lose".

But it's hard not to enjoy some things about climate change.  As an example, this fall has been warmer than normal in this part of the world. It seems that, for the past couple of decades or so, just about every season has been significantly warmer or colder or wetter or drier than normal.  This fall, so far, has been warmer and, I think, drier.  If I didn't see the wreaths and lights and decorations people have hung in their windows and doors and from lampposts during the past week or so, I would have a hard time telling that we're less than three weeks from Christmas.

Maybe it has to do with the way the leaves, which cover everything but the trees they fell from, flicker in the sun. Or with the fact that even the coldest night we've had so far didn't even give a hint of impending winter storms.  

It was another nice day to ride.  And I did. How could I not?  I tried to worry more about climate change.  Really, I did.

Turning Back The Calendar

The clock’s been turned back.  Or, more precisely, the calendar:  a month or so, it seems.  At least, one could reach such a conclusion after the kind of weather we’ve been having in this part of the world.

It was as warmer, yesterday, than it was on most days during the past summer.  Perhaps it doesn’t exactly qualify as “Indian summer”:  Autumn began, officially, only four days ago, and the temperature reached 27C (80F).  That says more about how mild the summer was than how much like a momentary heat wave (Is that a contradiction in terms?) the day felt.

At least it was sunny and the sky wore a hue even more turquoise than a pendant I wore when I was in college. (It was actually a lovely piece, if a bit out of fashion at the time.)  Having nothing work-related to do (i.e., I was procrastinating) yesterday afternoon, it was a perfect day to ride.  So what did I do?  I took Arielle for a spin to Point Lookout.

Actually, I had one other motive besides the pure joy of riding Arielle. (What else can you expect from a well-tuned Mercian?). You see, last year or in some previous year, I saw a swarm of monarch butterflies alight from the bushes near the ballfield on the Point.  It was as if a massive cloud of black and gold rose and lifted itself to the heavens and took a right turn just before some pearly gate.

Those monarchs (who really deserve their name, in my opinion) had completed about a quarter or a fifth of their journey, which had begun about a month earlier in Newfoundland or somewhere else in the Great North and would land them in South America in time for Christmas.

As I recall, I saw that great mass of flight right about this time of year:  during the earliest days of Fall.   In purely logical terms, it made sense to hope for such a sight as greeted me on a ride taken on the same spot of a previous year’s calendar. 

Now, some would say that my problem was putting hope and logic in the same sentence, as it were.  By now, you’ve guessed what happened:  I didn’t see my flight of monarchs.  (“My flight of monarchs”:  If that doesn’t betray a sense of entitlement, I don’t know what does.)  I didn’t express my disappointment to the ones who greeted me when I arrived in time for the receding tide:

I guess this avian creature in particular has his/her (Can’t be sexist, can I?) own kind of majesty, or at least imperialness:

All right, I’m not complaining—at least, not much.  Seeing birds colored in the foam the tides leave skipping from rock to rock or resting on a sandbar has its own kind of grandeur, one borne in serenity.  And, of course, I had a great ride on Arielle.

Taking The Trek To Work

Today I commuted on the Trek 560 I just built.

In a way, I picked one of the worst possible days to ride it.  When I started, the day was cloudy.  The weather forecasters hinted at a chance of rain.  But I figured I'd get to work before the precip. 

We all know how such plans work out--especially when you're riding a bike without fenders.  I didn't mind the bike getting cruddy--after all, the paint is pretty rough on the frame.  

When weather reporters say "passing showers", what they really mean is that you  are passing through the showers.  Such was the case for me today:  I think that once the showers came, they stayed.  I'm the one who had to pass.

Oh well.  At least I know two things:  The tires (Panaracer Ribmos) grip well.  And using a coaster brake on a rain- (and, in stretches, oil-) slicked street is another skill I'll have to master if I'm going to keep the bike as it is.

One thing that worked surprisingly well was the Nelson Longflap bag on the rear.  For one thing, as this frame is larger than the others I own, there is less seatpost protruding from it than on my other bikes.  So I wasn't sure whether there would be enough room to mount the bag and fill it without it rubbing against the tire.  And I don't have any kind of rack or bag support on the bike.

Because of the bike's geometry and the saddle position, the bag mounts almost horizontally, so that the flap opens almost at the rear.  (Rivendell's Sackville saddle bags seem to be designed to work that way.)  So, I put my U-lock in the "bottom" (the back, if the bag were mounted vertically) of the compartment.  It acted as a reinforcement that kept the bag from sagging--just enough.  On top of it, I stacked folders with students' papers, books, lunch, my purse and a pair of dress shoes.

The bag stayed put.  And, although the bike felt a bit squirrelly in the rear, it was still more stable than I expected it to be with the load, which the frame--at least in terms of geometry-- is not designed to handle.

If I were to commute regularly on this bike, I'd probaby install some sort of rack or bag support.  And, although the coaster brake itself is unaffected by the weather, I'm not so sure it'd be my first choice on a regular commuter.  I don't know whether this is a common trait of coaster brakes, but when I stop, sometimes I have to pedal about half a rotation "in neutral" before I can accelerate the bike.  It's similar to what happens when you shift a three-speed into the nether zone between gears, or when it's out of adjustment.  Plus, using handbrakes is more of a natural reflex for me than kicking back to brake.

Anyway, taking the Trek to work was an interesting experience.  I might try it again--on a day when there aren't "passing" showers!