Rain-day Time Machine

After Sunday’s 8 hour ride in the mountains, Monday called for a recovery ride.  Knowing I had a massage appointment booked for later in the afternoon, I’d have to get out before lunch.  As I sat idly chatting with Reilly, drinking coffee and eating cannolies, it began to rain.  Just a very light misting, really quite pleasant in fact, certainly not enough to dampen my spirits or temper my desire to ride.  Within 30 minutes, however, it was raining, really raining, unrelentingly.

Part of me wanted to go home, to stay warm and dry.  The other part of me knew I should still go for a 90 minute recovery spin.  It was warm outside so I knew I wouldn’t get cold, just wet, if I rode up Poncha Pass as I’d intended.  To heck with dry, I’m going riding, I’m no fair-weather rider!

Donning booties, knee warmers, a long-sleeve jersey and 3mm neoprene rafting gloves, I was on the bike and cruising along those wet roads.  Riding south out of Poncha Springs, the grade changed and the climb began.  Then, some thing miraculous happened; I was transported in both time and space.

No longer was I in Colorado.  I was back on Irene–my touring bike–in the damp hills of coastal Oregon or northern California.  I was sure of it.  The way the clouds hung in the hills, the tips of the trees keeping them from blowing away.  I was taken back to those magical November days, riding along the pacific with great forests to my left.  Rolling along, I couldn’t help but smile and think back to all those days riding in the rain, soaked to the bone, looking for my next camp-site or cheap motel. Everything was wet, saturated with a rain that seemed quite content to continue pouring.  The only difference was the smell; the air was thick with the scent of pine trees, not the ocean’s salt.

The ride was satisfying enough and I was certainly soaking wet by ride’s end.  But it was such a treat, to be taken back to a time of such happiness and freedom.  I thought of roads and towns I’d not considered for quite some time, of a time where all I had was the road and a tent.

Got me to thinking, when’s my next tour?

About to head back down hill towards Salida, deeper into the rain.

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Looking glamorous in the rain.