Before Auld Lang Syne

 The Winter Solstice came yesterday, just after sunset. 

  

Robert Burns is best known for "Auld Lang Syne," traditionally sung at the stroke of midnight in the Anglophone world.  Here the Scottish poet beautifully conveys the mood at the beginning of this season:

Winter:  A Dirge

The wintry west extends his blast,
   And hail and rain does blaw;
Or, the stormy north sends driving forth
   The blinding sleet and snaw:
While, tumbling brown, the burn comes down,
   And roars frae bank to brae;
And bird and beast in covert rest,
   And pass the heartless day.

“The sweeping blast, the sky o’ercast,”
   The joyless winter-day
Let others fear, to me more dear
   Than all the pride of May:
The tempest’s howl, it soothes my soul,
   My griefs it seems to join;
The leafless trees my fancy please,
   Their fate resembles mine!

Thou Power Supreme whose mighty scheme
   These woes of mine fulfil,
Here, firm, I rest; they must be best,
   Because they are Thy will!
Then all I want—O do Thou grant
   This one request of mine.—
Since to enjoy Thou dost deny,
   Assist me to resign.

This poem is in the public domain. 

Snowbound

According to the National Weather Service, we’ve just had the coldest February since 1934.  I haven’t spent much time on my bike during the month; in fact, only once did I take a ride that wasn’t a commute or an errand.

Mounds of varying combinations of snow, slush and ice, all tinged with soot, line curbs and rim building entrances.   Some cars and bikes still haven’t been dug out.  Everything and everyone, it seems, has been frozen into place, like this plant in front of an apartment building on the corner of my block:

Winter Fix For Vera

What do you do when you’re not riding?

Well, I guess that depends on your reason for not riding.  If you’re in bed with illness or injury, you don’t do much of anything except (if you’re like me) read and write.  But if you’re icebound, you can do those things and make soups, bake, be cuddled by pets and partners and watch Fargo for the umpteenth time.

And, oh yeah, you can work on your bike(s). I’ve been doing a fair amount of that.  If you ride regularly, you need to clean and perhaps overhaul or fix various parts of your mounts.  You might also decide to upgrade or otherwise change something or another to meet your changing needs as a rider, or simply to try something new.

I’ve managed to work on all of my bikes as snow has turned to ice on streets I normally ride.  I cleaned the drivetrains—and changed the chains—on all of my Mercians.  Because of the accident I had in August, I did the most work on Vera, the green Miss Mercian I bought second-hand three and a half years ago.

Neither the frame nor most of the major components were damaged.  I expected the handlebars to be bent, but they weren’t.  (Now you know that Velo Orange makes strong bars!)  But the chainring and chainguard were:  I couldn’t get the wobble out of the ‘ring and the guard crumpled. Also, the front fender bent and, as it turned out, developed cracks around the fork crown mount.  I figured it would be a good idea to replace it for safety’s sake.  Translation:  It was an excuse to try something new!  And, it just happened that Velo Orange recently introduced a new fender style, the Facette.  

Actually, it’s new for VO:  It’s a reproduction of an old French (what else?) style.  I thought it might work nicely with the lines of Vera’s twin top stays:

Those lines and the shape give the fenders—and the bike—a sort of Art Deco look, I think.  

Ely Rodriguez made the fender flap when he made the front bag and all of those other wonderful RuthWorks SF bags he's made for me. 

And, oh, by the way, I replaced the single chainring I bent with two.  The Sugino XD crank was sold as a single but has a provision for a second chainring.  Since the crank has a 110 BCD pattern, a wide variety of chainrings is available.  The ones I chose are made by Stronglight in France; the larger one has 46 teeth and the smaller one 34.

Installing two chainrings meant installing a front derailleur—a Shimano 105 from the 8-speed gruppo—and a lever to operate it.  

I haven’t ridden the bike on the streets yet.  On the repair stand, the new chainrings and derailleur were playing nice with the new chain and cassette.  I feel confident they will work out. I’ll miss the green-and-gold chainring and gold chainguard, but I think I like the look of the new parts—and the bike overall.  And we all know that’s what’s really important! ;-)

Frozen Retreat

This winter, it’s seemed that days without precipitation have been merely interludes between snowstorms.  The funny thing is that none of those storms has left a particularly large accumulation of the white stuff.

The worst part, though, is that the temperature has rarely risen above freezing on those days when it hasn’t snowed.  So, if the snow wasn’t plowed, shoveled or salted, it sits on top of the stuff that already covered the ground.  The deepest parts have turned to ice.

Much of the glacier-in-the-making I’ve described has formed on the streets I normally ride to work.  Even the main streets and roads, which are plowed more regularly, are dotted with ice patches and lined by what look like stretched-out icebergs.

In other words, conditions are treacherous for cyclists.  I haven’t been riding to work, let alone for sport, because I simply don’t see the point of risking myself in that way.  Perhaps if I had studded tires, I’d take the chance.  I’ve never bought a pair because winters like this one are rather unusual for this part of the world:  In most years, there might be only a few years in which such treads would be useful.

Although I miss riding, I don’t feel guilty about not being in the saddle.  About the only riders I’ve seen during the past couple of weeks are men—yes, men—delivering lunches, dinners and snacks from restaurants and pizzerias. 

This weekend, I participated in a retreat about 100 km up the Hudson River, near Ossining.  I was without my, or any other, computer and my cell phone was turned off.   I remained offline yesterday, the day after I returned.

 Of course, I thought about how I could have ridden to the retreat had the weather been different.  There was even more snow and ice up there and the bike lane along US 9 was not plowed.  

Still, I enjoyed the retreat.  How could I not, given its setting?

It’s been years since I’ve seen so much of the Hudson River frozen.  Of course, one day—perhaps weeks, perhaps a couple of months from now—it will thaw and the bare trees will bud.  Perhaps I’ll ride up there for another retreat

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