velotel
11-20-2013, 03:09 PM
No, not those, those are dumb. I’m talking about the ones painted on the road, one of the right edge of the road and one in the middle.
Finished working earlier than usual. Wanted time for a quick ride. Snow announced for the next days, wanted to get out before it pulled in. Between cleaning up my sawdust and tools in the garage/workshop, taking the dog out for his end of the afternoon walk (number two of the day, which he always awaits with impatience), and one thing and another I was late. As usual. Raining lightly, layered up to keep dry, or drier I suppose, and warm. Put my charged-up Fleas on the bike, headed out. Into the dark.
Left the village, into the twisties through the forest. We’re talking diving into blackness. Couldn’t see squat. Thick fog sucking up all the light there might have been. Had to follow the center line because the outside line was either hidden by leaves and debris or the paint so worn not much remained.
Only problem was any cars coming in the opposite direction would probably be doing likewise, following the center line. A conflict I was sure to lose. Scurried back to the right as far as I could go and still see the center line. Outside line finally became visible after a few nervous turns. Centered myself between the outside and center stripe. Worked well as long as I kept the speed down. Then something strange happened. I’ve ridden that road how many times over the years, a thousand, two thousand, probably more. One of those roads where I’d like to say I could ride it with my eyes closed. Maybe with the eyes closed but with them open and staring into the fog, I was lost. As in no idea where in the hell I was. All I could see was the strip of pavement between the white lines and then started worrying that what I saw was the road’s entire width and I was riding down the middle looking for a car hood to decorate! In my head I knew the road is two lanes, I knew that the line to the left was the center strip and that to the left of it was the other lane, even if I couldn’t see it. Intellectually I knew all that. But on the road in the fog, another story entirely.
Exited the forest and into to the next village where from time to time there are lights along the road. The fog was also lighter. Picked up the pace and rode from light to light. In the forest I’d been thinking I’d just go to the parking lot next to the tourist office and turn around. Not much but at least I was out. Riding through the village I started feeling more optimistic and thought maybe I could go all the way to the third village, do the nuns as I call it. There’s a nunnery in the third village and when time is tight, I’ll ride to the nunnery and back. Which is why I call it doing the nuns. I know, warped sense of humor.
Anyway, decided to do the nuns since the fog wasn’t so thick. And yep, the fog thickened as soon as I left the second village limits. Normally I love that section between the two villages. A gentle downhill through a series of back and forth bends with excellent views of the Alps to the right and, when it’s clear, Mont Blanc straight ahead. It’s fast and curvy and tons of fun. Last night I rode it with my brakes floating on the rims the whole way, following the center line when no cars were around, moving to the outside line when I’d see a dull cloud of light from an approaching car. My lights must have been pretty visible despite their miniscule size. The red one behind me was on blinking mode, the two headlamps on high beams. I could tell the drivers could see me because I’d hear them slow way down. They probably thought I was nuts. Then again apparently after all these years a good percentage of them are used to seeing me on the road, even in the darkness. Or so I’ve been told.
Made it through that section, slow and easy. Rolled into the third village and had a hard time spotting the road to the left where I do my little loop around the nunery. I was in the intersection before I saw it, that’s how thick the fog was. Rather crazy but, to be honest, totally fun. It was raining the entire time, a light rain but steady. My clothing worked great, keeping me relatively dry and thoroughly warm, outside of my feet which were steadily getting wetter and wetter. Didn’t bother putting on the waterproof shells over the shoes. Didn’t want to take the time. Just water.
The return was easier since there was more climbing than descending so my speed was just about perfect for the lights and the fog. Still got lost a few times when I became completely disoriented in the fog. Now I know why they invented instruments for pilots for flying through clouds. Finally exited the forest at the edge of my village, feeling rather happy with myself. Beat the snow! Well, actually no, not exactly. Noticed the rain was looking rather thick. And getting thicker every moment. By the time I dove down my driveway, which isn’t far from the forest, I was leaving tracks in the snow!
A fine ride in crazy conditions but without those white lines, never would have happened. I would have been off the road so many times my head would have been spinning. Like I said, love those white lines.
Finished working earlier than usual. Wanted time for a quick ride. Snow announced for the next days, wanted to get out before it pulled in. Between cleaning up my sawdust and tools in the garage/workshop, taking the dog out for his end of the afternoon walk (number two of the day, which he always awaits with impatience), and one thing and another I was late. As usual. Raining lightly, layered up to keep dry, or drier I suppose, and warm. Put my charged-up Fleas on the bike, headed out. Into the dark.
Left the village, into the twisties through the forest. We’re talking diving into blackness. Couldn’t see squat. Thick fog sucking up all the light there might have been. Had to follow the center line because the outside line was either hidden by leaves and debris or the paint so worn not much remained.
Only problem was any cars coming in the opposite direction would probably be doing likewise, following the center line. A conflict I was sure to lose. Scurried back to the right as far as I could go and still see the center line. Outside line finally became visible after a few nervous turns. Centered myself between the outside and center stripe. Worked well as long as I kept the speed down. Then something strange happened. I’ve ridden that road how many times over the years, a thousand, two thousand, probably more. One of those roads where I’d like to say I could ride it with my eyes closed. Maybe with the eyes closed but with them open and staring into the fog, I was lost. As in no idea where in the hell I was. All I could see was the strip of pavement between the white lines and then started worrying that what I saw was the road’s entire width and I was riding down the middle looking for a car hood to decorate! In my head I knew the road is two lanes, I knew that the line to the left was the center strip and that to the left of it was the other lane, even if I couldn’t see it. Intellectually I knew all that. But on the road in the fog, another story entirely.
Exited the forest and into to the next village where from time to time there are lights along the road. The fog was also lighter. Picked up the pace and rode from light to light. In the forest I’d been thinking I’d just go to the parking lot next to the tourist office and turn around. Not much but at least I was out. Riding through the village I started feeling more optimistic and thought maybe I could go all the way to the third village, do the nuns as I call it. There’s a nunnery in the third village and when time is tight, I’ll ride to the nunnery and back. Which is why I call it doing the nuns. I know, warped sense of humor.
Anyway, decided to do the nuns since the fog wasn’t so thick. And yep, the fog thickened as soon as I left the second village limits. Normally I love that section between the two villages. A gentle downhill through a series of back and forth bends with excellent views of the Alps to the right and, when it’s clear, Mont Blanc straight ahead. It’s fast and curvy and tons of fun. Last night I rode it with my brakes floating on the rims the whole way, following the center line when no cars were around, moving to the outside line when I’d see a dull cloud of light from an approaching car. My lights must have been pretty visible despite their miniscule size. The red one behind me was on blinking mode, the two headlamps on high beams. I could tell the drivers could see me because I’d hear them slow way down. They probably thought I was nuts. Then again apparently after all these years a good percentage of them are used to seeing me on the road, even in the darkness. Or so I’ve been told.
Made it through that section, slow and easy. Rolled into the third village and had a hard time spotting the road to the left where I do my little loop around the nunery. I was in the intersection before I saw it, that’s how thick the fog was. Rather crazy but, to be honest, totally fun. It was raining the entire time, a light rain but steady. My clothing worked great, keeping me relatively dry and thoroughly warm, outside of my feet which were steadily getting wetter and wetter. Didn’t bother putting on the waterproof shells over the shoes. Didn’t want to take the time. Just water.
The return was easier since there was more climbing than descending so my speed was just about perfect for the lights and the fog. Still got lost a few times when I became completely disoriented in the fog. Now I know why they invented instruments for pilots for flying through clouds. Finally exited the forest at the edge of my village, feeling rather happy with myself. Beat the snow! Well, actually no, not exactly. Noticed the rain was looking rather thick. And getting thicker every moment. By the time I dove down my driveway, which isn’t far from the forest, I was leaving tracks in the snow!
A fine ride in crazy conditions but without those white lines, never would have happened. I would have been off the road so many times my head would have been spinning. Like I said, love those white lines.