On With The Show

"I cannot endure to waste anything 
as precious as autumn sunshine 

by staying in the house. 

So I spend almost all the daylight hours 
in the open air."

-  Nathaniel Hawthorne

It’s showtime, folks. Just in the last few days, trees here have raised the curtain on their annual show that will bring us layer upon layer of fall colors to the Willamette Valley.  With the promise of good weather through the weekend, and while we have the sunshine, the clear air, the morning and evening light, we owe it to ourselves to find a bit of time to get outside and enjoy the performance.  There’s not a bad seat in this outdoor theatre; the view from your handlebars will do quite nicely.  Here are three rides I'd suggest:

1. If you don’t care for sharing the road with cars, you’ll love Minto-Brown Island Park. Put the bike rack on, load the bikes, and when you get there you’ll enjoy miles of paved trails for riding.  Lots of trees and great views.

2. If you don’t mind sharing the road with cars, try the Willamette Valley Scenic Bikeway.  Awesome stretches of rural riding, very few cars, and the route is well marked with signs.  Choose your starting place and your distance.

3. If you want scenery plus a bit of a workout, try the West Salem hills. Go west on Highway 22 to Doaks Ferry. Take a right and start climbing. A series of climbs and drops will take you to Wallace Road, where you'll turn left. Take another left on Zena, and then ride back into town on Brush College Road.

Oh, and bring a camera. These performers love having their pictures taken.

The High Stakes Game Of Chicken In Salem

I gotta say. Salem keeps finding something noteworthy to crow about.  Okay, cluck about.  Yes, I’m talking about the chicken thing.

Feathers have flown over this issue and politicians have been walking on eggshells. It’s taken several years, and chicken activists have made more than a dozen trips to city hall. On Monday night, we crossed the road. City council approved 7-2 the keeping of up to three chickens within city limits.

But let’s not count our chickens before they’re hatched. 


Apparently it’s going to take a few months to get this new “chicken bill” in place. Hmmm...chicken bill.  Wouldn’t that be the “beak?” The delay is because whenever there’s an ordinance change, city workers have to run around like chickens with their heads cut off, making several changes to city processes and procedures.  


There’s quite a pecking order to all of this.

I know that this vote was important to the people who scratched and clawed and pecked their way through this process. Some folks cracked under the pressure, and I should not make fun. So let’s take stock (there I go again) of this situation.

Roosters will have to stay outside of town, sorry. You can only keep hens in town. You know, I’m surprisingly okay with this gender inequity.  Roosters are a little tough and gamey anyway.

Not everybody’s happy with the city council right now. The anti-chicken folks are mad as a wet hen. But the activists prevailed in this free range long range game of chicken with the council, who could not delay the vote any longer without getting a little egg on their face. Don’t worry, anti-chicken people.  When these folks are up for re-election, their chickens will come home to roost.

Now for the privilege of chicken ownership in Salem you must first pay a license fee of 50 bucks. That’s certainly not chicken feed! Also, make sure you’ve got a coop with a runway. I don’t think you need landing lights or a control tower, though. Just the runway will do.  Still, chicken ownership ain't cheep.

I think the city council got this right, and I applaud this decision. Personally, I do not plan to keep hens. The only chicken you’ll see in my backyard is this.

My Kryptonite

We all have our kryptonite.  Remember, that’s the glowing, green substance from Superman’s planet that makes him vulnerable and weak. Even knowing how bad that stuff was, he seemed to always find it.  It showed up at the worst possible times; when he was saving the world from evil and tyranny, bam. Kryptonite. Boy, can I relate to that. My kryptonite also comes from my planet, which is called Earth.  It tends to show up at the worst possible moments for me too, like when I'm breathing.  

For me, my kryptonite is smoke. Nothing gets my asthma going faster than smoke. It renders me powerless in minutes, and once it overtakes me, I don’t get my powers back right away. If I’m in a smoky room and can get out of it in time, I’m okay. If it’s everywhere and there’s no place to retreat, well, my superpowers disappear for a long time.

Saturday’s bike ride out south of Salem was originally going to include a return trip via Turner.  I love the scenery  out there and it adds a little more variety to the ride, but it was not in the cards for me on Saturday. Just past Ankeny Hill was this big plume from a burning field. I had no choice but to turn away.  No superpowers today.

Smoke is no stranger to this area.  Long before whites began to settle here, the Kalapuya people used fire as an effective means of managing the land. In recent times burning has been the primary tool for the grass seed industry to control pests, weeds, and diseases. Fire is a very efficient, cost-effective way to wipe the slate clean and start over fresh. The problem was that so many farmers were burning their fields after their harvests, it was becoming increasingly harmful to the quality of life here. I can't tell you the number of really scary asthma episodes I've had because of field burning or forest fires. But I will tell you this: when it takes every bit of energy you have just to get a tiny bit of air through the inflamed and swollen lining of your lungs, over and over again with no relief, that's my idea of hell.

In addition to the tremendous health hazard smoke poses for those of us with respiratory problems, all the burning here was having adverse affects on other parts of the local economy and traffic safety. In 1988 the visibility was so bad from all the smoke from a nearby field burn, that it caused a horrible 23-vehicle chain reaction crash on I-5 that killed 7 people and injured 38. This was the catalyst for legislation that has cleared our air considerably. The amount of field burning in the valley fell from 250,000 acres down to 65,000. Burning fees were dramatically increased. As of 2010 we’re down to just 15,000 acres, primarily where steep terrain and crop species necessitate it the most. It's so much better now. I sincerely thank our legislators from the bottom of my lungs.

That said, we are a long way off from saving the world against evil and tyranny. This “fix” has forced farmers into an almost impossible situation, especially in this economy. We cannot turn a blind eye to the impact they're feeling from this! Growers currently pay more to produce grass seed than what they get selling it. Obviously not sustainable. They now have to use more fuel, plowing and re-plowing their fields. Without the ability to burn, they must turn to increased use of pesticides. In other words, we’ve got another kryptonite on our hands. 

We’re still waiting, Superman.

Taking The Camera For A Spin

The warmth of the full sun on a Saturday afternoon in September proved to be the perfect opportunity to take the new camera for some outdoor shots. I knew exactly which direction to point the bike; arriving at the Ankeny Wildlife Refuge I discovered that other people had the same idea. A handful of other cyclists and weekend photographers were there too, to get a little serenity of one kind or another.  It’s so calm here, and there’s so much great scenery to take in. All around us, signs that the seasons are changing; you can sense it in the air, the colors, the smells. The sun’s lower path across the sky casts a different light across this space. 

There were several varieties of waterfowl quietly basking in the sun out on the open water, not exerting a great deal of energy. A long way off, a heron stood along the shore, looking proud of his territory, but since there were no challengers to speak of, he got to just practice that regal pose that make herons so cool looking. Canadian geese murmured to each other as they sat on the water, but there was little to get too excited about, and they seemed happy to just chill a bit.  A pair of sandpipers provided a few minutes of entertainment along the pond’s edge, then flew off to who knows where.

The new camera is going to be fun, I can tell already!  Okay, I must confess, my camera looked kinda puny compared to the other super-duper big camera lenses other people were using. I’m sure they were getting up close and personal to the birds across the water; I on the other hand had a more general-use lens and was perfectly happy just snapping shots with it.

This outing was more about the camera than the bike, but combining both things was really fun. It’s a different way to ride a bike, that’s for sure. I had to use a backpack to carry the camera, and I stopped a lot more frequently to take pictures than I would have otherwise. A 22-mile trip might usually take a bit over an hour, but this time it was twice that long, and worth every minute.

What A Camera Can Do

Mrs. C and I have, um, significant birthdays coming up. For our 100th birthday present, we splurged on a present to each other and bought a new SLR camera. We want to be able to take better pictures than our little pocket camera is capable of taking. From my younger days I still recall most of the basics with aperture, zoom, shutter speeds, and such. That is already coming in handy as we use this new camera.  Here are a couple of shots we took just experimenting. 

I remember my photography classes in eighth grade at Walker Junior High. Talk about cool stuff we learned. Mr. Appelgate taught us way more than just the fundamentals; he set up lessons on how to use SLR cameras, roll film cartridges from bulk, develop negatives, and use a darkroom. We stayed with black and white because the color supplies and equipment were too expensive and complicated.  We didn’t mind...black and white was the standard back then. We carried big SLR cameras around our necks and were encouraged to use them throughout the day. We had a great set up in our school, and eventually I became a photographer for our journalism class.

I never felt very connected in during junior high, at least not until I became more involved with music there. I was pretty geeky, and that camera around my neck sealed the deal. Uncanny how we school photographers had so much in common. Far from being athletic, and sort of goofy in social settings, waiting for our growth spurt to happen, and afraid of being stuffed in our lockers, we struggled to find our place in the world. But those school cameras gave us geek perks. As a student photographer I had to cover school events and take group pictures, which meant that I got to leave class early with the athletes sometimes. I had something other kids wanted...I had control over who gets their picture taken for the school newspaper!

Nowadays, I embrace my geekiness.  Let’s face it, cycling and blogging about it will probably not give me much help climbing the social ladder.  But this new camera, well it just might get me back some of those geek perks.

New Video Clip: Salem Sharrow PSA

Here's a word that's probably new to all our vocabulary lists:  "sharrow."
Wanna know what it means? Click on the video. It's got some good pointers! (pun intended)


Thanks to Bill Holmstrom from right here in Salem, Oregon who produced this informative little clip, just for folks like you and me.

The Teacher

We had a nice chat on the phone with G tonight.  As the oldest of our three offspring, and the first to fully “leave the nest,” he’s helping us to understand our changing role as parents of adults. As much fun as he was as a kid--and he was tremendously fun--we’re deeply grateful for the relationship we have with him as a young man.

He sought out an opportunity to join Teach For America, and has just started teaching in a school in a rural part of Mississippi, where poverty and underachievement have had the upper hand for way too long.  Teach For America is not a miracle cure for the long-term educational effects caused by poverty, classism, and racial discrimination.  It is, however, a corps of determined, energetic, talented people who are making an impact in schools where the urgency for change is high. These teachers are, on the whole, creating larger-than-expected learning gains for their students. I’m proud G is one of them.

He’s about seven weeks into his gig as a 7th Grade Science teacher, and is finding that there’s a lot to learn about all the moving parts in the community he is serving. It sounds as if he is truly committed to the idea that all students must succeed, but the work is incredibly hard every hour, every day.  The culture alone is so different, but you really have to look deeper than that to make change. For his students, it’s the behavior, the gaps in learning, and the disconnects within the school system, that must all be addressed at the same time. According to G, the true “tipping point” will be achieved when his kids show that they believe in themselves.

Last Friday night, G and one of his colleagues went to the local high school football game, and saw lots of their students there.  They were genuinely excited to see “Mr. Cah-lah” there, too, and apparently that felt pretty good! Even the kiddos that had been in trouble in class that same day for their behavior were happy to see him there. It's becoming more obvious that these kids and their teacher are building relationships together. He is committed to showing respect to every student, and insisting that they are good enough to be successful. He wants them to see that for themselves.

These students are beginning to believe their teacher cares about them.  You’ve got to like the chances that he will be a high-impact teacher.

Grapes!

Riding a bike in the Willamette Valley, it doesn't take long to notice of how many vineyards you see everywhere. Over the last few decades, they have become an increasingly important fixture here. But you won’t see them on the floor of the valley; you’ve got to get out of your saddle and climb a few hills to get up to them.  Several varieties of grapes are grown and harvested in the valley, but the experts agree that the number one grape is the Pinot noir.  And it's got the awards to prove it.

If I’ve got my information right, wines are so popular here because of the red clay soil we call “Jory,” which is only found at about 300 feet and higher. The right kind of soil, paired with the right kind of climate.  Our moderate temperatures (not overly cold in winter, not blazing hot in summer) seems to be as friendly to grapes as it is to cyclists.  Go figure.

Wine growers are a little concerned about this year’s harvest because of the amount of cool, wet conditions we’ve had this summer.  Some of them have already begun cutting clusters off the vine as a way to force the sugar from the leaves to sweeten the remaining berries before the harvest.  That loss of part of their crop could spell trouble to their bottom line.

Fall tasting events, however, symbolize wine’s other “crop:” Tourism.  This is big business, folks.  You’ll see several road signs that point the way directly to your favorite tasting room, bed and breakfast, or restaurant. All of them, featuring your favorite local wines.

Mrs. C and I tried our hand at wine tasting once. It was pretty comical because we’re not very good at it. I’ll just say it--we’re wimps. They told us they’d be bringing us seven different varieties to taste. I think we surrendered after two and a half. I couldn’t make my eyelids work right, I was beginning to talk as if I’d just had a root canal. Guess I’m not much of a wine drinker. Give me a good cup of coffee anytime!

Part of the magic of riding in the valley is observing the seasonal rhythm that the vineyards follow. I just enjoy pedaling past the row-by-row greenery you see this time of year.

And on gray, rainy days like today, I like blogging about it.

Keep This On Your Radar

Right now I can look out my kitchen window and see one of those little trailers with radar and speed displays.

I've been watching and you know, these little gizmos really do seem to slow cars down. Maybe people just need to be reminded occasionally. The irony is, it’s not telling us anything new. Our speedometers give us the very same information.  So why does the light-up radar sign make us slow down? 

Well, partially because the not-so-subtle reference to POLICE makes us wonder if there's a cop nearby.  But after a while, we catch on that it's really just a trailer sitting there. So why do we still keep slowing down?

My theory: we actually are interested in doing the right thing. Problem is, we're zoned out. When we’re driving, we don't watch our speedometers, we don't check our mirrors, we're distracted. As uncomfortable as it is to admit, I'm guilty of that sometimes.  We all are. We could all improve on staying focused on the basics of driving while we drive. I know I blog about this topic a lot, maybe too much, but one of the obvious dangers for folks on bikes is distracted drivers.

By slowing down and staying attentive, drivers give themselves more ability to respond to surprises that come along. Everybody gets home safe. That’s the whole point, I think.

I can dig where you’re coming from, little trailer-radar-sign-thingy.

Two-Wheelin' T-Bone

Found a few more old photos worth sharing. Also from 1996. 

They feature T-Bone, now a college man, back when he was a small fry. The picture on the right was that first magical moment of riding on two wheels all by his big boy self. Mom asked him to wear the knee pads, just in case.

Just like that day on the bicycle, he continues to pursue a life of balance, momentum, freedom, and joy.  Without the knee pads.

Go get 'em, son.

Oh Henry

Sometimes on event rides, you might go along with a friend and have a great time hanging out together.  Other times, you go on the ride yourself and meet interesting people along the way. The other day I was going through some old photos, and I was reminded of one of those great people I had the fortune to meet once on a ride.

In the early 90’s I was on an Oregon MS 150 ride out near Silverton. The fast riders started much earlier that morning, and they were long gone by the time I started rolling.  This was my first event ride ever, and I didn't know anybody else on the ride.  No matter, I was enjoying ideal conditions while riding on my own. Great weather, fully supported, all I had to do was pedal and enjoy the riding. Really?  Cool!!!

I was pedaling hard, making progress and passing lots of folks, when on a long straight stretch I could see the next rider ahead of me.  A guy about my size, on a bike sort of like mine. I did what I always do in that situation, and sped up to overtake this guy. I was closing in nicely...that is, until he noticed me. Then it was on!  He picked up his cadence, and so did I.  We both were trying to make it look effortless to be going so fast, which meant that we stayed on our saddles and pedaled that much harder. The gap stopped narrowing, and then he pulled ahead. I did my best to hang on, and this nonsense went on for a while. He could see I wasn’t going to go away, which is probably the only reason he finally let me catch up to him.  I think we were both relieved when we gave up the chase and just talked instead.

That’s how I met Mr. Henry. We talked  nonstop for the rest of the ride.  Then we found some other rides to do once in a while.  This picture shows the two of us at the Kingdome, the start of the 1996 Seattle-To-Portland ride. And yes, some fashion statements truly are classic and timeless don't you agree?

Over the years we have stayed in and out of touch, but always interested in reconnecting and catching up. He has a very technical mind and a huge heart, passionate and devoted to things and people he cares about. He saved up for years and bought a Cooper MINI (or is that, Cooper MINI?) which he named Gromit.  Owning that car led him to meet the love of his life, also a proud MINI owner, who eventually became Mrs. Henry. They shared their vows on Mt. Hood above Timberline Lodge.  I see from Facebook that he’s recently gotten into motorcycles and owns a BMW bike.  He has become an avid racer, too.  Hmmm. This would seriously hurt my chances of ever keeping up with him now.

Every time I do an event ride, what honestly goes through my head is that I might just be lucky enough to meet another person as interesting as Mr. Henry.  Be careful, you might, too.

A Late Summer Ride In The Country

After a gray, rainy back-to-school week, we’ve been treated to flat-out perfect weekend weather in Oregon!  It looks like the pattern of clear sunny skies will hold for at least the next few days.  Nobody spent today inside; this was our wake-up call to get outdoors and play before the rains come for good. And so we all did.

I clicked into my pedals and headed for some of the best bike-friendly country roads I’ve found so far. Riding in and around Turner, Cloverdale, and Parrish Gap has got to be on everybody’s list if they like to ride on roads.  The idyllic scenery and sparse traffic out here transform almost every ride into a you’ve-got-to-be-kidding-me experience. Once you leave suburbia and enter into the country you are met with a palpable calm. The smell out in the country is magical, too. Add the warmth and light from the sun in a cloudless sky, and you’ve got perfection!

Look up and around from your handlebars. You’ll see the Cascade and Coastal Range mountains in about equal measure. Proximity to Mt. Jefferson makes it look similar in size to Mt. Hood, both of which will make an occasional appearance as you keep rolling through the area. A bit closer in you’ll see the late corn rising tall, and the pumpkins dotting the ground as they ripen. There is not nearly as much green around as there was before; leaves are beginning to fall and crunch below your tires. Brittle and brown grasses are also signaling the changes of seasons.  They are telling you to keep watching the maples, alders, and oak trees; they will be putting on their fall colors just a few weeks from now.

The only not-so-perfect moment of today’s ride was when I got yelled at by somebody who wasn’t happy that I didn’t signal a right turn I was making. I usually do signal when cars are nearby, but we were leaning into a tight corner on a steep drop, and I needed both hands on the brakes to navigate the turn. As the car made the turn along with me, the passenger yelled “learn to signal!” and sped on ahead. I smiled as I thought about how much they cared about my learning. Thank you, my new friends...I enjoyed the subtle irony that you were shouting at me from a Prius. That’s a rare combination!

Later on I met up with Mrs. C and Nat at Bush’s Pasture Park, one of the great city treasures in Salem. Lots of folks were there to play or take a run, have a picnic, or skateboard down the soap box derby run. Nat and Mrs. C took the walking path around the perimeter of the park, then hit the volleyball together for a bit.  I joined in for a few minutes. Clearly I was not hitting the ball correctly with them, and they gave me “permission” get back on my bike and ride home. No argument from me! Riding on a day like this is just plain fun.

I’ll be ready when the rains come, but there’s no hurry.

Welcome, Trader Joe's!

News of a Trader Joe’s store coming to Salem has traveled fast through the cycling community here. 

Looks like it will be coming to the old Albertson's store on South Commercial.

Clearly, some of us have been preparing for this moment.

Faithfulness.

Forgive me if I sound a little preachy today.  I’m just really broken-hearted for one of my dear young friends, Emily. She was to be married on the 18th of this month to a wonderful young man, Sam.  Yesterday, less than two weeks before their wedding, Sam was killed in a car accident. A wonderful and promising life together, ended by a driver who was allegedly too drunk to stay on his side of the road. It’s devastating to think about the loss that is felt, by Emily, by the families, the friends, the church they attended, everybody.

Sam.  You know, my big regret is not taking more opportunity to really know him during the times we were in the same room.  I missed out.  What I know is that he was a very talented musician, he loved worship, was a great youth leader, and he was crazy about his wife to be. The church he was involved with had a service last night, just to be together and sing the songs he would have been singing with them.  I also know that he took more interest in learning other people’s stories rather than telling his. That’s special.

In the midst of the heartache everyone is feeling, there is a strong, clear current of love and grace. The kind that can only be explained in the context of a faith. This is what will get them all through...the sharing, praying, loving, and singing even while it hurts so bad.  I’m pretty certain that’s how Sam would see it, too.  The God that we have so many big questions of right now, is the very same God that Sam loved so much. And is the very same God that is giving strength sufficient for these hard, hard days.

Prayers for Emily, for her family, for Sam’s family, and for their church. Thanks be to God for this wonderful young man and the reach he had with so many other lives.

More Than Just A Bike Ride

Sometimes we don’t realize until it hits us how we attach memories and feelings with the sense of smell.  I remember walking into Home Depot with Mrs. C, and just the smell of fresh cut lumber overwhelmed her with sudden and powerful memories of her father. It was almost incapacitating. Tears welled up immediately as she thought about all his building projects, how much she still misses him, and happy memories from before his illness. Although he’s been gone for some time, that smell of lumber brought potent recollections of her dad in that moment.

I had a little bit of that experience today on a ride. There’s a local route I’d been planning to take in the hills around West Salem. Perhaps compelled by a little bit of nostalgia, I wanted to ride more of the hills that surrounded the area where I grew up as a kid. I took Highway 22 out west of town, then up the length of Doaks Ferry out to Wallace Road. Along the way I tried to keep a brisk pace while recalling some of the fun I had with friends growing up in these hilly roads. The short, steep climbs and drops along the way brought back the fun sensation I remember on the 3-speed Schwinn that took me everywhere. 

Eventually Wallace Road led to Zena, which I’d only been to a couple of times before--or so I thought.  That’s when the flood of memories came over me. There’s a smell I absolutely love, one I associate with the hill on which my grandparents had a little farm.  It too was in West Salem, but I hadn’t realized how close I was to it. I wish I could describe this smell to you; it’s not that livestock-farmy smell at all. It’s more like a combination of hay and cherry orchards and fir trees and red clay soil.  That smell conjures up a feeling of sweet simplicity. It brought memories so strong they almost knocked me off my bike. I kept riding, even though I had no idea I was actually on their hill at the time.

Sure enough, Zena took me right up Brush College Road and as I crested the hill, there was my grandparents’ old place to my right.  I never came to it from this direction, so it seemed odd to be there. Except the smell was so right; it had transported me there even before the place came into view. Of course the old farm is gone and things are very different there now. No matter, I had no problem picturing their tiny yellow house, Grandma’s beautiful flowers, the stately old cherry trees in front, and of course, Grandpa with his horses.  He was as taken with horses as I am with bikes. I’m sure he’s worked out a deal in heaven to be in charge of hitching up horses to surreys, giving rides to appreciative people.  And Grandma is there, listening to old-time Gospel music while she sets her feet on the stool and “rests her eyes.”  

Those powerful feelings stir up a surge inside your chest--sort of like a burst of adrenaline--it transports you down the halls of your memory. One recollection leads to another, who knows why they’re chained together as they are. I let my thoughts linger there as I rode with a little less urgency back down Brush College Road, part kid, part grown-up. Thinking about my grandparents, both now gone, but still so much a part of who I am. 

I'm sure glad I took that ride today.

To My Friends Who Are Driving...And Riding

Drivers: sharing the road with bikes means:

1. Giving me about three feet of space as you pass beside me on my bike.

2. Knowing I'm going faster on my bike than you think.

3. Looking for me in your mirrors, and remembering your "blind spots."

4. Stopping before your bumper crosses into the bike lane at an intersection.

5. Leaving the horn alone unless it's absolutely necessary. Loud startling noises can initiate accidents.

6. Slowing for a few seconds for me to get out of the way of the turn you want to make.

7. Leaving your phone alone.

8. Waving and smiling--not having a tantrum--when either of us makes a mistake.

9. Using your mirrors for driving, not for doing your hair and make-up.

10. Not even THINKING about driving if you've been drinking or taking drugs.

Please remember, when you got your license, you promised you'd do these things.

Thank You.

Cyclists: sharing the road with cars means:

1. Not assuming I can see you on your bike while I'm driving.

2. Remembering vehicles need quite a bit of braking distance.

3. Staying in the bike lane when you have one.

4. Watching my blinkers and other behaviors for possible turns into your lane.

5. Not giving me the one-finger salute when I make a mistake.

6. Remembering that some drivers don't care who's right or wrong, and in a battle between cars and bikes, the heaviest object usually wins.

7. Leaving your phone alone.

8. Wearing your helmet when you're on the road.

9. Observing traffic laws just like motorists have to.

10. Not even THINKING about riding your bike on the road if you've been drinking or taking drugs.

Please remember, sharing the road means that cyclists have responsibilities, not just rights.

Thank you.

La Niña Is On Her Way

Here in the Pacific Northwest, we have learned to care a lot about El Niño and La Niña weather patterns. We know why they happen and what it means for our winter weather. Apparently, it all depends on what happens over on the western side of the Pacific Ocean. It has to do with low or high air surface pressure in the ocean's tropical region.  Then that creates a series of other events in motion which feed into the jet stream, and then before you know it, you’ve got El Niño or La Niña on your hands. See? We’re serious about this stuff.

All signs seem to point to us having a La Niña winter.  In other words, get your gear ready for riding in the rain, maybe find a good pair of fenders, and keep the hot coffee nearby. We can expect colder and wetter conditions than usual in Oregon and the surrounding area.

I’m reminded of a ride Steve-O and I took a couple years ago. Oh, and did I mention Lance Armstrong rode with us, too? Yep, he led the way for us and a couple thousand other folks.  Not to brag or anything, but I did actually get a glimpse of Lance at one point in the ride, so if you’d like me to autograph anything for you, please contact Mrs. C who would be happy to arrange something on my calendar.

Anyway, about the ride. Weather went from bad to horrible during the ride. High winds at the top of Bald Mountain closed a portion of the route. Nasty conditions that made you wish you just had a couch, a blanky and a remote. Unrelenting wind pushed us around and howled in our ears all day. Cold rain water made puddles and road spray everywhere.

I just remember at the start of the ride, still fairly dry and comfortable under layers of shirts plus a lightweight jacket and rain pants. By the end of mile one I was soaked everywhere, and I still can feel the shock from when so much water had run down my back, saturating my cycling shorts and then up....well, you know. At nearly the same time, my shoes and socks were soaked through, and my feet began to throb. Just remember, chilly cold. 

It was such a ridiculous set of circumstances that you had to choose: either laugh or quit. Lots of folks quit. Most took a much shorter route option. Not us. We got off our bikes after the full 80 mile route, looking like we’d just crawled out of the river. Certainly one of the worst days to ride ever, and ironically, one of the best memories Steve-O and I share as riding buddies.  That was the day we met our constant friend, the headwind, who makes a point of finding us on every ride.

La Niña will test us in the Northwest; it will be a gut-check to see who's willing to go out and make wet-weather memories on two wheels.  It will separate the intrepid hell-or-high-water cyclists from fair-weather riders. 

I know which group I want to be in!