3/9/2024 0 Comments Higgins india ink smell![]() I tell you this not as a plea for sympathy (although it will be gratefully received and securely stored for the next storm) but simply to share trip evidence for the great Yin Yang that is life. If all else failed I told myself I only had an hour left on the bike. To questions of: “ Aren’t you cold?, Isn’t it miserable to be so wet?, That can’t be much fun.” I retorted “ Oh no, I’m fine, it’s not so bad, I love the feel of the driving rain against my frozen skin”. Magic.) I couldn’t tell you exactly what went through my head for those two days, only that I tried to remain ‘chipper’ at all times, and if my mind wandered, I lied. I went into a weird saddle-based trance, removing myself from the situation entirely and pretending I wasn’t there (I use this technique climbing mountains too, before you know it you’re lost in thought and at the top. And just when I thought it might ease up, the wind picked up and it hailed. ![]() The next two days were lacking in glamour to say the least. I decided that the temperature was warm enough to give riding a crack at least and so, at 5am, I snuk out of a Manhattan apartment and was on my way. I had two days to make 220 miles to Baltimore in time for Thanksgiving with a friend. So when winter storm ‘Boreas’ rolled on up the East coast just as I was leaving New York, my heart sank. Since the incident in Iowa where I set out to ride 120 miles, and ended up almost hyperthermic and in a motel after 50, I’d resolved to be more sensible with any decision to ride in wind and rain.
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