Cycling in a Coastal Downpour

On the second morning of our trip I awoke to the sound of vigorous drums, which I soon realised was pelting rain. Outside, the line between sky and ocean was blurred and the patch of rocky beach we occupied was flooded. Inside, everything was damp from humidity - our clothing, the bedding, our faces. We had known that the forecast promised intermittent rain, so this was not a surprise and we didn't despair. We were not planning to cycle every day; we had loads of other things to do. We would see.

But as we drank coffee, the rain appeared to let up. Things were looking good - picturesquely stormy, but calm. It looked as if the downpour had exhausted itself in the course of the night and we decided to set off on our bikes after all, going along the coast for a manageable distance.

The ride started out fine. We made our way up a winding hill, past ominously abandoned beaches. Moody skies hung low over a dark gray ocean. The empty roads were promising. There was only a mild drizzle and we agreed that if things stayed like this, it would be even better than sunny weather - cooler, and less crowded. After cycling for a bit it grew humid and I removed my rain jacket, stashing it inside the handlebar bag. Two minutes later, the skies opened up. There was no build-up; it was as if someone opened a floodgate.

Instead of turning back we persisted, hoping the rain would eventually ease up again. But it only intensified. The amount of water was unbelievable, even compared to the many other times I've cycled in the rain. Visibility became non-existent, with everything turning gray and liquidy. The roads became flooded and soon I was cycling with my wheels partly submerged in water. Roads are terrible in this area, and even on a dry day it is a task to navigate around potholes. Now that they were invisible underwater, I could neither anticipate nor avoid them. My bike bounced violently over ditches at high speeds. This felt distinctly unsafe, especially on curvy descents. On a bike with narrow tires, the ride would have been simply impossible for me.

The coastal road was narrow and winding. As I tried to maintain a consistent line of travel, motorists sped past us, well over the posted speed limit, sending sprays of yet more water in our direction. I had my lights on and could only hope I was visible to them. My jersey - which had started out a bright crimson - was now a dark, dull brown. There are a few tricky spots on this route, where several roads merge on a twisty downhill - so that one must resist picking up speed and be prepared to brake instead. At these instances it became frighteningly apparent that my brakes did not work well under such conditions. I suspended disbelief and did my best, feathering the brakes and trying not to have a panic attack. Climbing up a flooded road while bouncing over potholes was horrifying as well.

Despite my best efforts I found this type of cycling too stressful to enjoy. I couldn't see where I was going, let alone anything resembling scenery, and frankly I had nothing to prove. This was meant to be a pleasant trip and not an endurance contest. I signaled to the Co-Habitant that I wanted to turn around, and we did - making our way back through the unrelenting downpour the same way we came. Before returning home, we took a detour and stopped at a hardware store to pick up oil for the bikes - later spending a great deal of time wiping sand and debris off of them and treating the components to prevent rust - which can form alarmingly quickly in a coastal environment. My wool cycling clothing took a day to air-dry, and my shoes are still soaking wet.

Though I know others enjoy the challenge of riding in this kind of weather, this is not an experience I care to repeat unless absolutely necessary. It is one thing to cycle in the rain, but a trip along the coast in a continuous and forceful downpour - with the roads flooded, visibility poor, and the wind assaulting my face, body and bike with sandy salt water - is not something I can justify, both in terms of safety and in terms of its detrimental effect on equipment. Hopefully there will be better weather ahead... though the forecast remains ominous!

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Soggy and Squeaky

Since Linda began a new life as an outdoor bike, it has been raining heavily and continuously. I considered bringing the poor bike back inside, but resisted. In her 15 years of life she has probably seen worse. So I left her outdoors as it poured day after day.

So what's the damage to a Dutch transport bike after two weeks of being left out in the rain? Well, the main thing is that the front brake has developed a shrill squeal. I didn't know that could happen to hub brakes, but apparently it can. The stopping power is the same as before, only now it sounds like a hysterical piglet. The rear coaster brake makes no noise. Should I somehow lubricate the front hub? We are scaring people at intersections! [Update: The front brake squeal stopped on its own as soon as the rains stopped. Works as well as before and just as silently.]

The other thing is that the leather grips are now completely soggy, since, unlike the saddle, I made no provisions to cover them. I installed these grips in October and they've been rained and snowed on many times with no adverse consequences, so I didn't think it would be a big deal to just leave them uncovered. But of course when it rains non-stop for so many days, it's a different story. Not sure what to do now other than just wait for the sun and let them dry out naturally. But in the future I should try Bobbin and Sprocket's smart solution.

Otherwise, nothing on the bike seems any worse for wear. I am especially pleased that my silver lug-lining (done with a Sharpie!) has held up and that the bottle dynamo is unaffected. Now if only it would stop raining!

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On the Road in Stormy Weather

The clouds gathered darkly as Francesco and I set off on our fateful voyage. Braving the wind in my long tights, jacket, gloves and hat, I could not believe that in the third week of May the weather was identical to what it had been in November. No sooner had the flowers finally bloomed, than their petals were assaulted by harsh winds and pelting rains. Now they lay scattered all over the roads - a pink and lilac watery mush for everyone to trample.

"How fitting," said Francesco, "that it is on such a day you are taking me away to be left with strangers. For the dark skies reflect the darkness that will reign in my heart."

Oh Francesco! So melodramatic. In fact, we were on our way to the Ride Studio Cafe, who are loaning me a roadbike for the formidable paceline rides. Since the RSC is nearly 10 miles away and I can only get there by bike, it was agreed that I would arrive on Francesco and then swap him for the loaner bike. It will only be for a few weeks. And as soon as we arrived it was clear that my Moser was in good company: A pastel Pinarello beauty made eyes at him from across the storage room, whispering "Buena Sera" in a sultry voice. He forgot about me immediately, and with a light heart I began my journey home on a sleek titanium machine.

But my sense of relief was short-lived. The skies opened up within minutes of my departure and rain began to pour with a violence that even the forecast had not predicted.

Soon my 23mm tires were cutting through lake-sized puddles and skipping over slippery tree-roots that protruded from the cracked asphalt, as water came down in buckets from the ever-darkening skies. I could not see where I was going, and it was only thanks to the miracle of the homing instinct - aided perhaps by the bicycle's admirable handling - that I got back intact.

When I finally dismounted the bike, the sight that awaited me was gruesome. Every inch of the formerly pristine machine was now covered with sand, dirt, pine needles, and all manner of road filth. Even the minuscule saddlebag they took the trouble to assemble for me was now a soggy, grime-covered mess. Then I took a look in the mirror, and realised that the same could be said of me! Forget "skunk tail" - My entire back, my legs, and also parts of my face were covered with what I hope is just wet sand, but looked far more disgusting. Is this what normally happens without fenders? It is far more dramatic than what I'd imagined!

The rest of the evening was spent showering, loading the washing machine, and scooping bits of plantlife (please don't let it be anything more gross than that!) from under the brake calipers and off the brake pads. Later, the Co-Habitant came home and thoroughly examined my loaner steed... upon which he discovered a substantial gash in the front tire. Seriously? Argh! But I guess I should be glad - otherwise it could have failed during a paceline ride, which is one of my biggest fears. So I think I will be putting some tires with puncture protection on this bike. Continental GatorSkins might be a tad slower than the Michelin ProRace3s currently on it, but the gash in the rubber is enough to persuade me it's worth it. What is your favourite "fast" road tire with puncture protection?

The forecast promises pretty much constant rain and autumnal temperatures for the entire week, and the gloomy weather is really becoming difficult to take. I will probably be going roadcycling in the rain again, simply because otherwise I will never get back into a regular practice of riding. At least next time I will know what to expect.

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High-Vis Rainbike, Anyone?

The past couple of days were rainy and dreary, and I've been sick in bed. Still, I managed to crawl to the door when the bell rang, and take delivery of an enormous package from Urbana Bikes - a Canadian manufacturer that has asked me to review this unusual creation. I opened the box and nearly jumped back from the burst of colour that greeted me. I'd requested a bike in "olive," which on the manufacturer's website looks like this. In person it resembles an exotic poisonous mushroom. "Oh boy, I should have asked for black!" was my initial thought. But as I continued to stare, the neon shade began to grow on me. At least it offered a cheerful contrast to the dark gray skies and pelting rain outside. I dragged the bike outdoors for some quick snapshots, half-hoping the rain would mistake it for the sun and stop... and believe it or not, it did, if only for a few minutes.

The Urbana bicycle is a rather extraordinary cross between a BMX bike, a mountain bike, and a Dutch transport bike with large hauling capacity. But I will elaborate on all of that once it's time to review it. What struck me today, was how remarkably vibrant the "poisonous mushroom" colour looked in rainy weather. I walked away from the bike, stood to the side, turned around partially - but as long as it was even peripherally in my field of vision, it commanded attention. I look forward to comparing my experience in traffic on this "hi-vis" bicycle, to my own, neutrally coloured bikes.

We are still in the process of adjusting the bike's components and I was not in a condition to cycle yesterday anyhow, but I will share my impressions once I begin to ride it. This is the first time I'll be reviewing a bicycle that isn't mine beyond a single test ride, so it should be interesting. I am still ironing out the logistics with the manufacturer, but after my review the Urbana will go to a new home.

Normally I am not a fan of hi-vis anything, but I make an exception in inclement weather and I think that neon bicycles would make good "rainbikes." How many of you ride brightly coloured bikes - either because you prefer the colours, or for the sake of visibility? And do any of you have dedicated rainbikes?

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His Rain Gear

Now that it's stopped snowing, it's been raining - and happily, the Co-Habitant has some new rain gear that keeps him from getting soaking wet on the way to work. As far as finding what worked for him, his case was a tricky one. In his hatred of shopping and owning too much clutter, he wanted something suitable for both roadcycling and commuting to work. So a nice waxed cotton trench coat was out, as those are uncomfortable on a roadbike. A waterproof cycling jacket was out, as those are too tight to be worn over office clothing. And most waterproof windbreakers are too short in the back to be worn on a bike, plus they are seldom available in the classic colours he likes. Also, two years ago he bought a couple of rain capes and hated them: They billowed in the wind, didn't cover his knees as much as he wanted, and started to fall apart after just a couple of storms. I was at a loss as to what else to suggest.

But what I feared would be an endless search for The Garment That Does Not Exist, ended after a visit to our local Eastern Mountain Sports: The EMS Thunderhead rain jacket and rain pants turned out to be just what he'd been looking for. The colour he chose is a very classic shade of loden/olive green, which was exactly what he wanted. Although the jacket is not cycling-specific, it works great on a bike.

It is cut more slender than a typical windbreaker, which reduces billowing. And it is considerably longer in the back than in the front, just like a cycling jacket.

The wrists are mildly elasticised and can be tapered further via velcro closure - or loosened up for a less sporty look.

Air vents under the arms.

Elastic for adjusting collar and hood.

The zipper is bi-directional (Is that the right term? It opens at the collar and at the hem). The hood rolls up an stows away under the collar.

The hood is a pretty nice one - classic and even a bit old-fashioned, with an elegant front extension instead of a visor.

The jacket is not restrictive while cycling. While the EMS product description states that the material is breathable, the Co-Habitant says not so much. Still, at least it is a thin shell, and ventilation can be improved by opening the vents.

The rain pants are from the same Thunderhead line as the jacket. He liked them because they look presentable for cycling to work and not too sporty.

Made of the same material as the jacket, these are meant to be pulled on over regular pants when it starts raining. They are roomy, so this is easy to do.

Alternatively, they can be put on or removed via the side zippers.

Side zipper again.

Both the rainpants and jacket fold up to take up very little space, and can be stowed away easily in a handlebar or saddle bag.

I don't know much about the EMS Thunderhead line, other than what's here. The product page includes customer reviews, some of which state that the jacket loses waterproofing over time - which has been my experience with pretty much any waterproof jacket. Still, for those looking for rain gear that is versatile enough both for cycling to work and on a roadbike, I think this set-up works pretty well. It stows away easily, works in all seasons, and is neither too roadie nor too dandified - just some easy to wear, easy on the eyes, all around rain gear in a classic colour scheme and at a reasonable price.

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Water, Water Everywhere

In the morning they did warn me
it would be a day of rain.
But how could I've predicted
such tumult on its way!
Stroke after stroke I pedaled
with a swift and forceful motion,
but water fell upon me
as if amidst a stormy ocean.

Water, water everywhere

and not a drop to drink!

Water, water everywhere,

my bike did nearly sink!

And so November is upon us, and with it the November Rain.  Funny, because I don't remember it being quite this bad last year, but I've probably just blocked it out. Today it rained so hard, that the water not only covered my face, but went inside my nose and mouth. Feeling as if I might drown while cycling was a curious sensation. I could hardly see anything in front of me, but thankfully drivers seemed to all be showing remarkable courtesy. Maybe they just couldn't believe that a cyclist was on the road in such a downpour and felt sorry for me. 

When it is raining this hard, I prefer to be on a heavy, upright, and exceptionally stable bike. When I owned my Pashley, I often talked of how good it was for cycling in the rain. To my relief, the vintage Gazelle is the same, if not better. The handling makes this bike unfellable. The enormous wheels and wide tires part lake-sized puddles, grip slippery surfaces, and float over potholes. The fenders release a mighty spray and keep my beige raincoat beige. Defiant in the downpour, I cycled with dignity even as water streamed down my face. And I arrived at my destinations only slightly worse for wear.

The other two things I like to have when cycling in the rain are good lights and a saddle cover. I was not sure how well the bottle dynamo would function when wet, but it was absolutely fine (I am beginning to develop a  fondness for the bottle) - and my LED-modified headlight made me highly visible. As for the saddle cover, despite having accumulated many Brooks covers at this point, my preferred method is to use a ratty plastic grocery bag. The plastic bag performs two functions: it is more waterproof (gasp!) than a Brooks saddle cover, and it makes the bicycle look considerably less appealing to thieves. Not that many thieves would be tempted to drag away a 50lb clunker with a locked rear wheel in a downpour...

And speaking of dragging: I must say that carrying a wet, slippery 50lb bicycle up the stairs is even more delightful than doing so with a dry one. I have noticed that when it comes to lifting a heavy step-through, it is important to find a comfortable spot to grip - one that is well balanced and will prevent the bicycle from twisting or buckling in my arms as I attempt to maneuver it. Despite being heavier than my previously-owned Pashley, the Gazelle has a better "sweet spot" in this regard, and so I find it easier to carry... just not when the frame is slick from the rain. Still, I managed to wrestle the enormous Dutch creature up the stairs and through the door without either of us taking a spill, after which we had a cup of tea and recited poetry together. It is essential to have a bicycle that is more than a fair weather friend. 

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Cycling and Suffering

In my view, the most unfortunate myth about cycling for transportation is that it is difficult. Understandably, this is how non-cyclists often perceive it - due to the overabundance of athletic cyclists and heavily armoured utility cyclists on the roads in comparison to cyclists who look like regular people. But even among the "everyday cyclists",  I feel that there is a tendency to focus on the challenging aspects of riding a bike in a way that takes pride in these challenges and thereby dwells on them: the pain of cycling uphill, the heroics of cycling in cold weather, the battle of cycling in traffic... Come on, be fair! Cycling is fun and convenient, giving us the most independence and flexibility of all other transport options. Compared to the poor drivers stuck in traffic and the users of public transport pushing their ways through overcrowded buses, we coast through life with smiles on our faces.

[image via BostonBiker.org]

Reading Boston Biker this week, I was reminded of my all time favourite misrepresentation of cycling's "difficulties": Our love of exaggerating the fortitude of cycling in the rain. On cycling blogs, we often read stories that describe a non-cyclist asking a cyclist, "But what do you do when it rains?" and the cyclist replying "I get wet!" After this exchange is retold in the blog post, the author will then muse about how people nowadays are out of touch with the elements, and how ridiculous it is that "the car culture" has taught us to fear getting rained on. This, however, is simply untrue. Car culture did not teach us to dislike getting rained on. Seeking protection from the elements is a natural impulse that has been with us pretty much forever. In non-car-oriented societies people still use umbrellas and hide under awnings. Cave people sought shelter in caves. It is completely normal not to want to get rained on on the way to work or a date, so that we can both arrive in dignity and not come down with the flu the next day.

[image via BostonBiker.org]

Cyclists however, sometimes seem to experience pride from getting soaking wet in the rain, and this pride translates into projecting an intimidating image to those who do not ride a bike. The non-cyclist is given to understand, that in order to embrace cycling they must accept the idea that getting wet is "normal" rather than something to be avoided... In other words, to accept an idea that goes against people's natural instincts since the dawn of civilization.

I don't know about you. But when a non-cyclist asks me what I do when it rains, I reply that I wear a raincoat. When a non-cyclist asks me about hills, I explain that I switch to a lower gear and pedaling gets easy again. And when a non-cyclist asks me whether I am scared of traffic, I point out that it was less scary than driving once I got used to it. And all of these things are true. Why tell them I am suffering, when I am not?

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Happy Colours, Rainy Touring

I don't have much leeway in choosing when to go on long rides, so lately I've been doing my "tour training rides" in the rain. The first time getting caught in the rain was an accident: the forecast said no rain, but it lied - and 13 miles from home the downpour began, "baptising" my Sam Hillborne and teaching me a thing or two about how to make a rainy tour comfortable. Since then I have not really been resisting rain, but enjoying the empty roads and the fresh air it brings.

My old "lobsterman yellow" waterproof windbreaker. If you are horrified by the neon, I will explain that I see touring in the rain as different from transportation cycling. The latter is a relatively short, urban ride for me on an upright bicycle, and I wear my regular clothing. If it is raining, I wear my trenchcoat and that keeps me dry. I turn on my lights and that keeps me visible. For long-distance rides, I feel that this is not enough - because I cycle through rural areas where my bike and I blend into the landscape much more than in the city. When it is raining, I am practically invisible to cars traveling at high speeds, and in the daytime lights are not always sufficient. So I feel safer wearing brightly coloured clothing in this context.

Having observed the visibility of other cyclists, I would say that bright yellow and red look especially striking against the green-gray backdrop of woodsy and countryside areas. Other popular colours - like purple, turquoise, pink and green - not as much, even if they are neon.

My lobsterman windbreaker is falling apart from old age, so I am looking for a new rain jacket that is specifically designed for long-distance cycling: long in the back and form-fitting around the torso to prevent billowing. And I'd like it to be red. Haven't had any luck so far, and most of the ones I've tried in bike stores seemed ill-fitting. But I will keep looking and welcome any suggestions.

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Bike Wash!

We had big plans to go skiing over the long weekend, but they were derailed by 44°F temperatures and heavy rain, even up in Maine. So instead we "washed" our bikes.

It was the Co-Habitant's crazy idea (as you have probably noticed by now, he is much more fun than I am). We had just returned from our trip and were getting ready for a quiet night at home, when he looked out the window and proposed that the rain might be a good opportunity to wash the winter crud off the Pashleys. "Let's take them around the block," he suggested.

As we raced down a road heading out of town a half hour later, it became apparent that we were on a joyride. In a downpour. In 44°F weather. In the middle of the night. The bikes were clean and shiny when we got home, and we were soaking wet and shivering. Good times! And now for some hot tea...

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