When you pedal in wet and cold conditions and refuse to surrender, there’s a quiet satisfaction. Saturday was one of those rare days in San Diego. The forecast was catastrophic by local standards. Precisely what was needed for a Palomar Mountain group ride planned weeks ago. The official 70% to 90% chance of rain gave me pause during the week’s lead-up. But what was the worst that could happen? A huge green mass (on weather radar) headed our way Friday before turning in the for the night. Questions hung in the air. Were we still on? Should we re-consider? Cancel? Yes. No. And no. Let’s ride.
On cue, leaden skies at sunrise dropped an angry rain. Big raindrops straight down that make you suddenly feel you’re living under a tin roof. As I drove to the ride’s staging area in Valley Center, bike, extra booties and gloves in tow, the storm intensified. A taunt from the cycling gods? Pfft. Then visual reality. Up here, impromptu streams now ran on country roads, carrying silt, debris and very clear directions to move the ride start closer to the alpine-quality mountain. Yes, we’d begin in at Harrah’s and avoid a narrow section of the Rincon reservation area that’s challenging with vehicle traffic on the clearest of days. Calculated safety adjustment made, it was back to the job at hand: three riders creating a bond through an unspoken blood oath. Shielding each other as best we could from the elements, the climb (and incredibly numbing descent) was a success. It was also an opportunity for a Palomar first-timer @FitTechEric to make his maiden voyage. Bernie Molloy, a Palomar veteran, joined us to help construct the memory.
Our wet, cold and determined trio enjoyed what I can only describe as the road to satisfaction. The skies paused long enough for a fast bio break 6 miles from the top. Then right on time, dry-ice air and sideways hail greeted us at the summit, a mile high at 5,200 feet. BB-sized pellets swirled and ricocheted about the place, like some kind of special effects brought in to add ride color. Visibility collapsed to less than 50 meters. Once inside Mother’s Kitchen, we sipped coffee and peeled off the sodden, cold gear donned in an effort to trap body heat in. Intermittent snow flurries on the other side of the glass reminded us where we were. It was not the beach. A fireplace crackled, but there would be no time to dry out garments. Before carefully picking our way down the mountain, we inserted kitchen bags (in place of newspapers) beneath our jerseys and jackets. Our hands numb, brake levers slick, we carefully navigated. 5,000 feet. 4,000 feet. 3,000 feet. 2,000 feet. 1,000 feet. 700 feet. Then the cars and home. No regrets. Only satisfaction.
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{ 4 comments… read them below or add one }
Thanks for sharing your story of the ride. Great job once again. I totally agree that it’s rides like this that stand out. I can still totally remember a ride I did while living in St. Kitts where we rode for about 1 1/2 hours in a total downpour….I’m talking a monsoon here. It was totally insane, but definitely one of the most memorable and satisfying rides I’ve ever had.
I actually love riding in the rain from time to time. Well more precisely, I don’t usually let rain cancel a planned ride.
There is satisfaction in riding in such weather. Not the least comes from the astonished looks of motorists.
Nice post.
Wow, my ride yesterday was a walk in the park in comparison. We hit some cold rain and wind yesterday while riding up the Tower Road out at South Mountain Preserve in Phoenix. I’m not usually one to ride in a storm like yesterday’s, but I gotta tell you, the satisfaction at the end of the ride was better than most other rides! Sounds like another great day on the bike for you guys! Thanks for sharing.
Daryl – You’re right on. The rides we remember are the ones that stay with us forever. Thanks for reading and posting your monsoon experience that was totally “insane.” I know what you mean.
Tim – Motorists do tend to be dumbfounded when they see cyclists plowing through a storm. I think that’s another fun aspect to defying the elements. Thanks for reading, and sharing your insight. Much appreciated.
Rich – Hat tip for you on being out there this past weekend. Any time you hit cold rain and wind, there’s a choice: continue or quit. Continuing seems a great way to go. I’ve never heard any cyclist tell “epic” tales of bagging a ride early for a warm spot on the sofa. Way to go. Thanks for reading and commenting.