Saturday, September 20, 2008

Miscellaneous ramblings



With a forecast for sun and 80 degrees, I took a ride out to Bellevue with Tracy early this morning. My plan was to ride out to Monroe and Sultan, and then head north on quiet roads, eventually returning to Snohomish on the trail. I’d complete the big day by riding over Seattle Hill to Bothell, and then home.

Dressed in a jersey, light base layer, shorts, arm warmers, and thin liner gloves (thank God), I certainly wasn’t prepared for the thick as soup fog and 49 degrees of Snoqualmie Valley. It was already close to 60 when I had left Bellevue at 8am! Luckily, traffic was very light and I had my Dinotte tail light, which resembles a fireball in low light conditions. I must have subconsciously remembered all of those other foggy days in the valley…

I bailed and rode up High Bridge. Once I was on the ridge to the south of Snohomish I was under brilliant blue skies. I rode down the hill a little for a different perspective, and Snohomish itself, as well as the whole river valley, were still engulfed in the mist. My big ride turned into a ride of 76 miles, but I threw in a few extra hills on the way home just for kicks, and to make sure I joined the 500 Club. Speaking of Snoqualmie Valley

Flying low on the ground

I’m sure I’ll get this wrong, but don’t they say that flying is hours and hours of boredom interrupted by brief moments of sheer terror?

This is just my opinion, but on many days of riding, the further I get from Downtown Seattle, the less safe and secure I feel on the bike. I ride everywhere in the Greater Seattle area, and I believe I know the “safe” way through just about every area. Whenever I venture out to Snohomish, Auburn, or other outlying places, always in the back of my mind is just a little feeling of uneasiness. It’s possible to go for miles without a single car passing you, and all of a sudden you are on a road with no shoulder, getting buzzed by pickups, RV’s, or even semi trucks, all going at a high rate of speed.

It may seem counterintuitive, but sometimes I find solace in the crowd, and not as a solo speck in the middle of nowhere.

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