In The Beginning (Of The Season)

It may not officially be Spring.  Not yet, anyway.  But even with the mild weather we've had yesterday and today, it feels like the beginning of spring.

Or, could it be that riding just felt so good?  Yestersday I took one of the first seashore rides I've done in a while.  One thing about such a ride early in the spring (or on a mild day at the end of winter) is that you know that you're approaching the water because it's noticeably colder.  You see, even though the temperature neared 60F yesterday and 70F today, I don't think the ocean temperature has reached 40F yet.  So, a maritime breeze--let alone a wind--will let you know that you've underdressed, even if the sun feels good on your skin.

But the real essence of a first-of-spring ride is, for me, the feeling of emerging from a cocoon or a shell.  Of course, that might mean an ache or two if I ride a little harder or longer than I'd ridden during the winter.  But, still, it's an energetic feeling--or, more precisely, one of emergence, like a flower groping its way up from the barren earth.

In the spirit of the first of spring, I want to pay homage to someone who's been an inspiration to me over the past couple of years.  In that spirit, here is a "first ride of spring" photo from one of my favorite bloggers:

Velouria, I mean no disrespect or condescension when I say that this photo of you made me think, not only of the first of spring, but of evolution.  After all, according to Darwin's theory (and Genesis, for that matter), all life began in the sea.  So, in a real sense, cycling begins in the sea, or at the water's edge, at any rate. 

As it happens, her blog--Lovely Bicycle!--began in the Spring three years ago.  Coincidence?

Pink Bicycle Springs Ahead

Here's a friendly reminder to "Spring Ahead" for Daylight Savings Time:

Pink Bicycle With Springs, by Neil Heeney

This photo comes from Neil Heeney's photostream.  

Riding Across The Sea?

When I was a teenager, I went to Universal Studios in California.  One of the things I still remember about the visit is riding the tourist trolley through the "Red Sea."  Of course, I'm not talking about the body of water that separates Africa from the Arabian Peninsula.  What "parted" in front of me was the re-creation of it that was used in The Ten Commandments.


Because of the movie, which my family and I watched every year (If I recall correctly, it always aired on Good Friday.), whenever I hear or read the name "Moses", I think of Charlton Heston.  Having the "sea" part in front of me without the aid of Mr. Heston left me with an even crazier idea:  If I could part the Atlantic, I could ride to France and Italy.  


Of course, even if the logistics of parting the sea could be solved, there would be other issues.  The distance from New York to France or Italy (or England, Portugal or Spain) would be roughly the same as the distance from New York to California.  However, when you cross the country, there are all sorts of things to see and, more important, places to stop and eat,sleep, wash and take care of other needs.  Somehow I don't think such amenities would be available on a trans-Atlantic crossing.  And, as much as I love water, I'm not sure of how I'd feel about seeing nothing else at least until I got to the Azores (assuming, of course, my route went that way).


Now, having cycled in Europe several times, I'm not quite as taken with the idea of a trans-Atlantic bike ride as I once was.  (Also, I am older and, I would like to believe, have a firmer grip on reality.)  Still, if it were possible to do such a ride, I just might try it.


Maybe that's what the young man in this video had in mind: