Velo News

The Dark and Rain Season has come upon Olympia. The occasional rain this fall was merely a prelude to the full act. Hallowe’en was the first good rain of the season, a herald. The following days were wet but not heavy rain. That came on Thursday, pouring all day rain. I traveled to Seattle on a job that day and was very pleased to be taking bus and train, not driving. Friday and Saturday were both dark and wet. Combined with the advance of the darkening hour after changing to standard time, it all seemed quite sudden.

Not sudden is the accelerating advance of autumn. The measured fall of windblown leaves that I’ve watched over the past few weeks has become a cascade, a deluge of leaves, gathering in great piles in yards, sidewalks and streets, pushed about by the rushing rainwater. The colors have gone from the bright red, orange, yellow and gold to more rust, more brown. More trees have fully shed their foliage, their bare limbs piercing the gray sky. Many other trees still hold some of their leaves, some still bright and bold in color, even some green though the remaining green looks pale.

So now comes the season that many dread. It will be my second in the northwest (third counting Fort Lewis in 1970) and I’m looking forward to it. Friday’s peace vigil was my first in the dark and rain but no less enthusiastic. Rain came heavy later that night ; Saturday was wet and dark early. By mid-morning the cloud cover broke and let in some sun. I wasted no time in getting out on my bike, figuring I’d go until I got wet or tired.

Turned out I dodged the rain entirely. The day was cloudy, variable dark or light and cool with a strong wind from the south. I followed a north-south-north route to take advantage of the wind for my return trip. I rode six miles north and east to pick up the Chehalis Western Trail, a converted railroad grade with a good paved surface. The trail is a tunnel through the woods. Most of the adjacent land is suburban residential but the trail is often screened by trees and undergrowth (probably less so in the winter). I followed it 12 miles south, adding a couple miles on the southern end I had never ridden before. On that section the trail passes through a gated community with gates on either side of the trail’s right of way.

The trail yesterday was literally a golden path of yellow leaves plastered to the wet pavement. The trees were still colorful in some places; fallen leaves illuminated the undergrowth, still green with evergreen among the deciduous growth. A body can overload just taking it all in. The trail is about as rural as I’ve found in the area and is completely free of motorized traffic. It’s a great place to ride without the full alert awareness that required around drivers in large, powerful vehicles who may or may not see me. Along the way I passed farmhouses, barns, livestock and a couple large lakes. The sun popped in and out of the clouds throughout my ride.

Riding into the headwind was not bad on pavement but tiring toward the 18 mile mark. I was happy to turn north. And I fucking flew back into town. By now the day was considerably brighter and I had the wind at my back. Sweet.

I’ve pretty much demonstrated to myself that I will be able to ride all winter. I know from last year that the sun comes out throughout the winter months, so the opportunity will be there. I am prepared for wet weather and even riding in the dark but I can’t see myself doing much in the way of joy riding in the dark here. Even running errands on a bike after dark is unlikely.

Cycling is a longstanding stress reliever and relaxing pastime for me. I rode a bike a lot as a kid but only began as an adult 20 years ago in Phoenix. I had about four major routes from my central city location, one in each direction, that offered a variety of distances. Summer riding was the best because the heat required me to be on the road before sun-up. A Sunday morning before dawn in Phoenix will always be my favorite cycling memory from those days. When I moved to Window Rock I thought I would do some bodacious rides on that infinite network of back roads but I soon learned those were not places to take a bicycle. The paved roads offered some good routes but the ever present wind almost always guaranteed a head wind on the return trip. Back in Phoenix after the travels, I rode some but even riding in off traffic times and routes I was breathing that noxious air so I always wondered about the net value of the exercise. Now that I am acclimated here, prepared for the wet and out pedaling regularly, I’m home.

Not a bad place to be at all.