Raindrops pelting your face at 30+ mph feel like little projectiles. Or was it hail?Rain, rain, go away; come again another day.
Like Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, or Friday when I'm sitting at an office desk. I'm not picky. Really.
Most of today's fun was not spoiled by rain, which came down in earnest just after I had finished loading my gear back into the car and prepared to pull away.
We climbed Old La Honda Road, east and west; not feeling frisky, I settled into a leisurely pace. A friendly racer on a shiny Cérvelo with fancy Zipp wheels encouraged me upward.
Racer: You're almost there!
Slug: No, I'm not. Nice try. Thanks anyway.
Racer: [To the riders just ahead of me] Are you gonna give me guff, too?
Speaking of slugs, I saw a few (squished) banana slugs and dodged a small newt. The car that followed soon afterward may not have treated him so well.On the other side of the hill, away from the perpetual rain of the redwoods, Indian Paintbrush brightened my day. As did the racer I shamelessly drafted for the last couple of miles back to the start. Enough hard work for the day, I earned that.
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Started pouring while I was filling bottles at the top of Mt. Ham prior to beginning the long descent this afternoon. Not only was there rain, but we were descending in the cloud, so the visibility was nil. I was kind of scared: could hardly see a damn thing, how would cars see me? By the time we got down to Grant, the weather was merely drizzly and cold, which seemed balmy by comparison. Given that a steady rain started in again when I was down at the car, I pity the riders after me!
ReplyDeleteBut earlier in the afternoon, out in the San Antonio Valley, there were carpets of goldfield and swarms of butterflies . . .