Fluffy Clouds Make Cold Shadows

It is safe to say that despite a few minor hitches, this trip has practically been smooth sailing.  However, Tuesday stands as a major hickup in the general positive flow of things.  It is hard to tell whether it was the weather, loneliness, or a combination of both.  What is certain is that there was a lot of collateral damage.

The two specs in the clouds are hawks circling around.  They didn't seem bothered by the weather, or misery I was feeling.






Some days you sense things are going to be off from the moment you stir.  Those are the days we generally would rather not stir or leave our beds.  I peeled myself out of my tent on Tuesday despite that feeling. I figured if I had to climb a mountain, I should get an early start, but I was quite dismayed to find that the weather forecast of partly cloudy had been overly optimistic for the day.  So I threw on all of my clothes, layering up to try to stave off the chill and walked to the YMCA to use the facilities.  I took off my gloves and set them on the toilet tank and ironically recall laughing to myself at how silly it would be to leave them there.


COLLATERAL DAMAGE:


1. pair waterproof gloves.


I ventured out towards the local bike shop at the outskirts of town after unsuccessfully scouring the YMCA restroom in search of the lost gloves when I realized I had left them behind.  After laying down my self-pitying tales of 'wet hands to be' and 'woe be my legs after these mountains' one of the fine gentlemen at the shop opened his heart to my suffering and offered me a ride to the start of the Blue Ridge Parkway, 3 miles uphill from town.  I graciously accepted, thankful for a brief reprieve from this day that seemed intent on crushing my resolve.

The hills leading to the first ridge, 2000' above Waynesboro were an expected challenge and in truth I was thankful for the distraction from the cold, damp weather.  I actually ended up stripping off all my warm layers to shorts and a t-shirt from the effort of the climb.  Things were feeling up until my miscalculation of the terrain to come.  It is important to understand that while you will sweat profusely climbing a mountain when it is 50 degrees and overcast, all travel at speeds over 6 mph will feel like being submerged in an ice bath.  So I foolishly convinced myself that it was toasty warm out and that the coming descents would simply dry my perspiration before the following climbs.

2. one hour of my life fighting hypothermia


And so it was that I found myself hugging my knees to my chest, rocking back and forth, trying to reassure myself that I wasn't meant to die this way.  Thankfully I quickly set about boiling water for some hot chicken bouillon, after which I jumping-jacked until I could feel my extremities again and then put all my warm clothes back on. Thirty minutes of pep-talks later, and I was on the bike once more and bundled up: two pairs wool socks (still can't feel my toes.. not important); wool thermal top and long underwear; cotton shirt; windproof jacket, pants, and gloves; wool balaclava.  I threw my camera and chap stick into my jacket pocket and set off down the next hill.

3. bike tire

Nothing sets the heart to racing better than the feeling of your wheel suddenly skip as you are racing down a hill at 30 mph.  And nothing confounds more than seeing that half of the tread on your wheel is simply gone.  Has anyone ever seen this happen before?!   Thankfully I had an extra tire and set off down-hill again after some handy work.

4. chap stick - yeah I know, who cares?


5. camera sustains a high-speed collision


I challenge Hollywood's best to recreate the drama of the scene.  Wind rushing past in a deafening howl, Alon barely makes out a clatter behind him and simultaneously feels a lightness in his jacket pocket where something was bouncing heavily.  What was there?  OH!  No, not the camera?  Brakes.  screech  Bicycle thrown aside thoughtlessly.  He turns and looks behind and there, as he feared, a silver object lies.  It isn't moving...  He runs. Time is of the essence in these situation, he knows.  "Please replace battery pack."  "NO DAMMIT.  You're going to make it!"  Power reset.  The camera comes to life, mechanical damage sounding the efforts of her lens opening.  The corner of her LCD is a rainbow of colors like an oil streak on a puddle.  And he looks down pityingly, cradling her in his arms, nearly tearful in sweet relief, knowing it is going to be OK.  Everything is going to be OK.