A Ride Of Homeric Proportions

I am way behind on miles with a 200k ride scheduled this coming weekend. I was determined to take the 35 mile route for work on Monday of this week. The weather was cool with a high of about 40, 15mph winds out of the southwest and snow predicted for late evening. The route is a rolling 20 or so miles down the east side of the Connecticut river, cross the bridge from Portland to Middletown and then another 16 rolling miles up the west side to Wethersfield. My plan was to be on the road by 5:30, that would be about an hour and a half of day light riding and an hour after dark.

Around 4:00 I looked out the window and saw light snow falling and the flags along the river were straight out indicating that the wind had made an appearance. As usual problems came up late in the day and I didn’t head for the locker room until 5:50. For the ride home I had a wool Belgium Brewing long sleeve jersey, a long sleeve wool Ibex zip t-neck, Cannondale waterproof/breathable jacket, PI shorts, Col d’Lizard winter tights, mtn bike shoes with wool booly socks, PI long fingered gloves and lobster shells and a Boure wool skull cap. I did not bring any over boots because of the forecast, this was a decision I would regret before I got home.

In the locker room I also put on my reflective vest and ankle bands and then head down to my bike. When I got there I turned on the two blinkies on the rear of the bike, the blinky on the back of my helmet and one on the handlebars. I zeroed out my computer and pulled my Quickbeam out of the rack. It is amazing how much this weighs. The bike is not an ultralight and then add the generator hub and 35mm Nokian tires and you have a stout bike. I commute with a Two Wheel Gear commuter bag which is very nice but not light weight. Then throw in work clothes and size 12 shoes, ipod, cell phones, etc and you have at least a 10 pound load. Not a set up for a lightning ride but then this is a training ride, isn’t it?

I mount up and ride to the exit ramp in the garage. I ride half way up to open the doors, then circle back down and sprint up the ramp just making it under the half open door. When I get out it is grey and snowing harder. The website I checked at my desk before leaving said it was 39 degrees and it felt it. I have exited the rear of my building and head a block the wrong direction and then make a couple of rights to get to the pedestrian ramp that will take me up onto the plaza and then to the bridge across the river to the east side. The plaza is concrete and stone and I ride carefully not wanting to go down as I negotiate the flower pots and pedestrians. I reach the front of my building and take one and now it is a straight shot across the pedestrian bridge. Few people are out walking so I ramp up the speed and listen to the studs start to whine on the stone path.

On the other side of the river I come out in an industrial area. I wind my way through it on empty streets until I get dumped out on Route 5. This is a busy road with two lanes in each direction but this time of day it is not too busy. I am heading south now and feel the first kick of the wind. I have my head down getting into a rhythm. I pass Pratt and Whitney on my left and am glad it is not quitting time. Soon route 5 turns left but I continue straight onto a side road. I have warmed up and despite my concerns at the start of the ride I am feeling good. I cover a couple of miles on quieter side streets. These are neighbor hoods and the houses and trees block some of the wind. Eventually I am dumped out onto main street in Glastonbury and turn right to continue south on my route. Now the road is more open and I can feel the wind bites a little more. The snow has also picked up. Big heavy flakes many of which the wind manages to drive into my eyes around the John Lennon glasses I am wearing. I am quickly out of the center of Glastonbury and the road is flanked with two hundred and fifty year old houses. It is fairly flat for the next mile or so until I connect to Route 17 so I keep up my pace and enjoy riding.

17 is busy road and there has been a heavy snow fall since I road this route a few days ago. This has narrowed the shoulders and as it starts to get darker I have my first thoughts about calling home for a ride. But traffic is light and the cars are being very good about giving me a wide birth so I continue on. The next few miles are rolling but give up a little altitude as it descends from a ridge to river level. As I start down the last big drop before I turn off, I pick up speed and the snow starts to pelt my eyes. I pull my helmet down rakishly in front of my eyes and the visor is now blocking most of the snow.

At the bottom of this hill I take a right onto Tryon Street. This is a quiet road that runs through a neighborhood of historic homes and farm fields. The road is deserted and I am enjoying the ride. The road is slowly giving up altitude and meandering towards the river. As I approach the river there is wooded hill to my left with an occasional house. To my right there are houses and farm fields and just visible behind them is the tree line that defines the edge of the river. The wind is always stronger along the river as it is funneled between the ridges that flank both sides. As I get closer to the river I start to feel the full brunt of it as there are fewer trees to temper its force.

I pass the marina and now I am riding right along the river. Despite the wind the surface of the river appears glassy in the dim grey light and the far side of the river is barely visible through the dusk and snow. The occasional lighted red day mark only accentuates the otherwise monochromatic scene. The only sounds are the wind rustling the beech leaves and the whine of my studded tires on the road. My mind wonders off as I enjoy the motion of the bike and the late winter setting.

I am finally pulled back to reality as a car finally passes me. I notice that the black road surface is now disappearing under a dusting of snow. I take stock of myself. I am damp from sweat under my jacket and my legs and feet are also damp from the snow but overall I am comfortable.

The road starts a gentle climb away from the river. I come to Old Maid’s Lane and turn left. This road has a very step short hill, around a 13% grade. I start to feel the climb. Since I am on a single speed there is only one thing to do, pedal harder. The hill steepens and I have to stand to keep moving. I pass the point where I had to walk last time and pick out a land mark about 30 yards up the road. I won’t walk until I get to the end of that guard rail. My legs start to burn but I make it. I hop off and start walking. My glasses immediately steam up. I am lucky that I can see well enough to ride without them. I stow them in my pocket and walk the remaining 50 yards to the top and hop back on the QB. At the top it is about a quarter mile of flat riding to where I will join Rt 17 again. There are many house here and people still returning from work Several cars pull off of 17 headed in my direction and their lights are blinding after riding in the dark for so long. I reach down and turn on my generator light to be sure they can see me.

I make a right on 17 and continue my journey south. The next mile or two is rolling but gaining altitude. The shoulders are narrow but the cars are still being polite and giving me plenty of room. What must they be thinking when they go past this blinking bicycle on dark snowy night? I reach the high point on 17 and it is a nice downhill run to the junction with 17A where I will turn right towards Portland and the Arrigoni Bridge that will take me across the river to Middletown. As I start to pick up speed on the downhill the snow once again pelts my eyes. It disturbs me to have to brake on a good downhill run but I have to keep my speed down to be able to see.

At the bottom of the hill I turn right on 17a and for a short distance the river is right next to me. But then the road starts its gentle climb to the center of Portland. This stretch of road is flanked by older homes and during the day I enjoy checking them out. At night they are featureless structures so I concentrate on the road ahead of me or the rooster tail of water coming from under my front fender and being highlighted by my headlight.

I reach the top of the climb and I am in the center of Portland. The road now drops towards the bridge. The road over the bridge is two lanes in each direction with no shoulder. There are many crashes and a couple of deaths every year on the bridge. The sidewalk is the only option here. I need to make a quick right onto a side street and then a quick left to cross the street and onto the sidewalk. Whoa, hit the brakes, where is the g** d*** sidewalk. It is covered with three feed of snow. The m***** f***** DOT not only didn’t clear it they threw all the snow from the road onto it. It never occurred to me that it wouldn’t be passable.

What to do? I just passed a gas station. I could go back, call my wife for a ride and have a hot chocolate while I waited for her. No, to easy, I want the miles. I hop off the bike and step up on the snow. It is hard packed and I don’t sink in but it is too rutted with old foot prints to even think about riding on it. It is a good half mile walk to the other side, brief second thoughts and then I head across the bridge.

The bridge starts a good distance above the river running from a ridge in Portland to a ridge in Middletown. I look down some 50 feet below to the industrial area. There is a billboard with a clock/temp read out. It is a little blurry without my glasses but I finally make out that it is 7:53 and 27 degrees. I reach the high point of the bridge and meet three people headed the other way. We have a brief bitch session about the conditions of the walk way and then continue on our ways. On the way down I again take stock of my condition. I am fairly warm although my feet are starting to feel the cold, especially walking on the snow. I make it down to the end of the bridge, wait for a break in the traffic and start riding. I am on Main St in Middletown for only one block before I turn onto some side streets that will connect me with Route 3. Route 3 is a flat busy road flanked by various businesses, but at 8:00 on a snowy night the traffic is light. My next land mark is my turn onto 372 a couple of miles down the road. I have the wind to my back and put my head to try and make up some of the time I lost walking across the bridge. I make good time and turn right onto 372. This starts with a slight uphill with several highway entrances and exits. The car behind me is being polite, he wants to turn right onto the highway but stays behind me rather the going around and cutting me off. The other cars get impatient and there is a flourish of car horns but I make it through unscathed.

I am standing now slogging up the last of the hill. I notice that my shoes are now filled with water and my feet are sloshing as I head up the hill and they are definitely cold. The apple I ate three hours ago is no longer fueling this ride and I am starting to feel hungry. Why didn’t I pack some GU? I reach the top of the hill and now it is only a short two miles to Route 99. From there it is about 6 miles and a few climbs to home.

At the junction of 372 and 99 is the new Cromwell Fire house. The lights are on and there is a group of people inside. My toes are definitely cold now and I give serious thought to stopping here, going inside and calling for a ride. No, there are two more fire houses spaced evenly between here and my house. I will reassess at the next one.

I turn left onto 99 and it immediately kicks uphill. I stand and power my way up. The grade slackens and I sit and pick up the pace. It is dark and cold, what was I thinking? It is now a survival ride. Just make it home where dinner is waiting. The only amusement I have is to watch the water dance off my front wheel, sparkling in my headlight.

I watch the landmarks tick by. The shops at the top of the hill, Millane’s Nursery, the flower shop. I am head down just trying to make the miles go by. Now I pass the VFW and up ahead at the top of a small hill I can see the light where I turn right and where the next fire station is. As I approach the light I check my toes, they’re cold but I can move them so I turn right and keep going past the fire house.

I drop down a big hill into an industrial park. This road has a couple of inches of wet snow on it but there is no traffic so I can ride in the tire track out in the center of the lane. At the bottom of the hill I turn left. This is the home stretch and I keep pushing. I weave through a series of side streets until I finally reach the junction with Old Main St in Rocky Hill. The last fire house is on my left, my toes are very cold and I should stop but it is only 2 miles home. I make the decision to go for it. It is nearly a straight shot from here to home. Old Main St climbs and drops and becomes Middletown Ave in Wethersfield. I go under I91 and now it is flat route to my house. I do my best to pick up the pace and make time on the flat road. Up ahead I see the light where I cross Rt 3. I am lucky tonight, a car cuts the corner and trips the light and I go through just as it turns yellow and without breaking by pace. I turn right onto Broad St, then left onto Garden St. and right onto Main St. I see my house, park my snow covered bike in the garage and I am home.

My feet were very cold by the time I got home. I wish I had stashed my shoe covers in the bag along with some GU. I got home at 9:10 about 30 minutes longer then I expected the ride to take. I lost time braking on the down hills and walking across the bridge. The Quickbeam as usual proved its worth as a bad weather commuter, it performed flawlessly.

I leave you with these final questions. Was this a Homeric ride home? If so, is that derived from Homer the adventurer or Homer Simpson?