But today, if you ignore the near record high temperatures, we had a reasonably perfect day. (93 degrees, high humidity, and way too windy for bike riding, but my standards for perfection have lowered WAY down). So, I dusted the cobwebs of the bike, filled the tires, and installed the rack on the car. I decided to start easy, with a 12-mile ride (out and back) across the river and around the lake.
I was actually glad to discover a headwind on riding through the bottoms on the east side of the river. A headwind on the way out means (hopefully) a tailwind on the way home (unless the weather gods decide to really screw with you, and turn them 180 degrees as you reach your halfway point). The wind was strong and gusty, but it kept the heat down.
I had jazz tunes playing through ear buds from my cell phone. The sun was shining, and the clouds were light and fluffy. Me and Miles and Pat and Trane and Wes and Gary were having quite a jam session, and I was averaging a good 15 mph clip heading toward the lake.
Approaching the park, I noticed thistles growing along the path, as high as my head. Plenty of insects were flying, including some bigguns. I got whacked in the face more than once with something significantly large - a dragonfly, I'm guessing. Traveling at 15mph and striking a dragonfly flying in the opposite direction with a 20 mph tailwind, it felt like someone was throwing rocks at me. Luckily, I was wearing my glasses (suspecting that airborne pollen would make my contacts too uncomfortable), so my eyes were protected.
There is an area along the highway, near the first exit, which is inhabited by numerous red-winged blackbirds. I had noticed them ever since the road was constructed. They love to race and play chicken with the vehicles exiting the highway. I never paid much attention to them while riding a bike, and they never seemed to notice me. Until today.
About half way between the river and the first exit, I noticed my helmet vibrate momentarily. I thought maybe I had sat back on my earbud cord, causing it to tighten and pull my helmet back off of my head, then releasing it again. I dismissed it and continued pedaling. A few seconds later, my helmet jumped two more times. It was then that I realized I was being attacked by a bird! I shook my head violently, and waved my hand over me. I must have looked deranged to the motorists on the road at my left. Apparently, I exited that insane avian's territory, and he left me alone to enter the park.
Once in the wooded area, the shade reduced the heat a bit, but those darn cottonwood fluffies were flying everywhere. I don't know if I'm allergic to them, or to something else that flies at the same time of year, but I was worried that my eyes would start to itch and swell. Luckily, they never did.
I stopped momentarily to look at the spring waterfall. I've been wanting to do some waterfall photography. Now, I don't live in Hawaii, so waterfalls are difficult to come by. I thought the spring might provide an opportunity to practice photographic technique. However, even with all the rain we've had, the waterfall was barely a trickle. Do heavy rains affect the output of a spring?
I continued to the lake, and discovered a woman trying to get up on a sailboard. I've been wanting to try windsurfing, but there are no longer any rental outfitters in the entire metropolitan area. I decided to stop and observe. She climbed up on the board, and struggled to get the sail vertical and in a neutral position with respect to the wind direction. She seemed to know what she was doing. However, as soon as she turned the boom, the sail would catch a bit of air, the board would rock, and she would go for a swim. I watched her repeat this little dance about 10 times, and finally she motioned for her husband to come out and take over. She removed her PFD and handed it to him, and he handed her their young child.
I watched him perform the same procedure, with more arm strength, but no more success. Honestly, his wife seemed to have better technique. The husband seemed less able to control the position of the board in relation to the wind. Every time he grabbed the boom, BOOM! He went for a swim. It looked very frustrating, and made me wonder if it was a sport that I could ever learn to do well enough to enjoy. Eventually he gave up, and the woman waded out to take over again. I decided to continue my ride.
About a quarter of the way around the lake, I noticed a second sailboard in the water. As I pedaled, I watched the rider get up on the board, haul the sail into the air, and he was off in the strong wind. We rode together for quite a while, keeping almost the same speed and direction. Then the windsurfer began to tack. I pulled off the path and stopped to watch him. He really knew what he was doing. Watching him sail was like reading a poem. It renewed my desire to learn the sport. I continued my ride, and kept one eye on the windsurfer for as long as he remained in view.
You probably think I was hallucinating, and I'm not sure I wasn't, but I swear I saw a bald eagle flying about about 12 feet above the path, then swing out over the lake. There is a bird sanctuary nearby, and I've seen plenty of egrets there, but I've never seen an eagle this far away from the river, and never in weather this warm.
Another new thing I noticed on this trip: every quarter mile or so, a symbol consisting of two to four circles was painted on the asphalt trail, in various combinations of yellow, white, and blue. I have never noticed them before, and I assume that they are some sort of mile marker. But I don't know what purpose they serve if their meaning is a secret to the users of the path. They almost seem like they are designed to be viewed from above, in an aircraft, for instance. Does anyone know how to decode these symbols? Have they always been there, or is this something new?
One problem with hot days in early spring - it causes the fat guys to take their shirts off. All the fit guys were jogging and biking and rollerblading with no apparent discomfort, but the 60-somethings out for the walk prescribed by their cardiologists had decided it was too hot to adhere to accepted social norms. A little bit of perspiration, and they all seemed to feel compelled to remove their shirts. Everywhere I looked, I saw ponderous man-breasts covered with grey hair, and gelatinous white bellies undulating with ambulatory effort. Ugh. Leave your clothes on, guys. I'm no beefcake myself, but at least I know enough to keep myself covered.
Soon, I had completed my circumnavigation of our small lake, and was back on the path toward home. Thankfully, I did have a tailwind, and it was a good thing because my middle-aged knees were starting to give out. Once past the highway exit, I was again attacked, presumably by the same deranged blackbird. I waved him off this time, and he allowed my passage without further engagement.
The last two miles of this ride are mostly up a slight grade. Generally speaking, I'm usually spent by this time, and today was no exception. My average speed dropped to about 9 mph, and I had to gear way down to keep going. Young guys on expensive road bikes, with stylish jerseys and alien-like, teardrop shaped helmets, passed me as if I were traveling backwards. It was humiliating.
Finally, I made it back to the parking lot. It was a short ride, but my knees and my butt were both glad it was over. As soon as I became stationary, my shirt started to become soaked with perspiration. And yet, I managed to keep it on. (Let that be an example, older, fatter guys!)
I didn't take a camera on this ride, so I don't have any pictures to share. However, I did make hummus the other day, and since I have nothing else, I will leave you with this shot of my creation.
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