Who'll stop the rain? - Moss Beach Permanent: 2/15/2009

I scheduled this permanent a week before the SFR Russian River 300k to get some miles on my legs before going for the longer distance. It turns out I had picked the absolute worst day to ride on. Sunday Feb. 15 was forecast for rain and strong gusty winds. The night before I made sure I had all my rain gear and decided I would probably start the ride and turn around if things got too bad.

The morning was gray and windy, with a few sprinkles but no real rain yet. I drove down to the start and got everything on the bike before the rain really started, but the wind was definitely blowing "backwards", from the south. As I headed up Highway 1 I had a good boost from the wind, but I was worried about having to fight it on the way back. The wind was gusting and pushing me around quite a bit, and it seemed like it was blowing even harder higher up because every grove of eucalyptus trees I passed was roaring and bucking, and debris from the trees was all over the pavement. Some distance north of Davenport I heard the telltale "crack!" I had been listening for and quickly scanned around to try and locate the tree limb which had just succumbed to the wind's fury. Luckily it was in a field well away from the road. But this made me extra nervous and I kept an eye out every time I passed by another grove of trees.

The rain had been coming down for a while, but I was still pretty dry with my gloves, booties, tights, and rain jacket holding most everything out. I passed Waddell Beach and entered San Mateo County, still thinking I might have an okay day after all. A couple of miles later I heard a "clunk!", as if my chain had just settled onto a different cog, except I didn't feel anything slip in the drivetrain. I rode on for a couple of minutes thinking over possible causes in my head and wondering why my rear wheel suddenly seemed to be brushing the fender until suddenly the thought hit me: maybe that was a spoke popping. Sure enough I had broken a spoke on the rear, and I didn't have any spare spokes with me. I was about 25 miles in at that point...hmmm...perhaps this was another sign I should turn around. But the wheel was not too far out of true, and I have a disc brake on the rear so it was not affected. I just had to put up with the tire rubbing the fender slightly once every revolution. Might as well keep going.

I turned up Gazos Creek Road and got some shelter from the wind, but the debris on the pavement was even worse here. Luckily with no traffic I could use any part of the road I wanted, and I did. Well, until I saw the wires being pulled down to the ground by a fallen tree limb. The wires had not broken; they had just been stretched between poles by the weight of the tree limb. I couldn't tell if they were electrical or not, or if the power was on, so I gave them a very wide berth. A few minutes later I spied a ranger truck heading the other way and flagged him down to give him the news. He looked pretty wet in the truck (probably from getting out to check things every now and then), and he probably wondered what in the world I was doing out there on a bike.

Now the rain was really pelting down as I made my way along Cloverdale Road. My gloves were starting to siphon up water and I felt a spot or two on my feet where the water was soaking in also. I turned onto Butano Cutoff and really felt the wind now, even though I wasn't heading directly into it. As I turned up Pescadero Creek Road I switched from thinking about if I was going to turn around and started deciding where to turn around. The traffic was very light and consisted almost entirely of CHP cars, PG&E trucks and various maintenance vehicles. At least if I got in trouble help wouldn't be too far away. I decided to try and make it to La Honda. That would get me a fair amount of distance and climbing in preparation for the SFR 300k.

My shoes were now definitely soaked; I noticed I could tilt my feet up or down and feel the coldness move as the water shifted around. My hands were in a similar state, and I started a mental countdown: if I reached the summit of Haskins Hill before mile 40 on my bike computer then I would keep going. My computer clicked to 40, but I knew I was close so then it became reaching the summit before the 40 became a 41. I passed two more CHP cars apparently chatting, then finally the summit came in view. With a mental cheer I swooped carefully down the other side to Highway 84, then sloshed up to La Honda.

At the post office I removed my gloves and glove liners, then squeezed a fair amount of water out of the glove liners. I used some newspaper in the post office to dry my hands off so I wouldn't smudge the postcard too badly, then worked on my pen for a while until I could fill out my card. I dropped it in the mail , then went over to the market to use the bathroom and pick up some water.

In the bathroom I went through quite a few paper towels trying to get my glove liners as dry as I could; I couldn't do much with the gloves themselves, however, and decided that this was a good reason to consider bringing two sets of gloves & liners for days like this. Of course I couldn't do much about my feet. At least I could still feel 4 of my toes. As a final touch to help ward off the chill I pulled my Marmot Windshirt out of my rack bag (which was surprisingly still pretty dry inside - I guess I don't need to bother with the rain cover for it) and put that on between my wet jersey and my wet jacket, then headed back out into the storm.

Even though I had decided to turn back early, I hadn't made up my mind where yet. I initially turned onto Pescadero Road to go back over Haskins Hill, then changed my mind and went back to Highway 84 and down towards San Gregorio. As I approached San Gregorio I briefly toyed with the idea of continuing on instead of turning back. After all, it wasn't that much farther to Moss Beach. But no, I was already cold and wet enough, and then there was that headwind to consider. So I turned left onto Stage Road, but then changed my mind and turned around and headed back towards Highway 84, then decided to stop being stupid and turned around again for good. After all, I had broken a spoke and seen enough tree debris, downed wires, and slides already. And there was that wind.

Oh yes, the wind. Now that I was foolishly trying to head south I was being pushed and knocked around by it. I got some shelter when the road ducked down, but each time it climbed over a hill I would hear the freight train sound of the nearest trees and eye them nervously as I crept high enough to feel the full force of the wind. At one point I was knocked around enough to just stop and wait for 30 seconds before the gusts subsided a bit. Luckily I was still getting quite a bit of shelter from the wind by the hills. I didn't bother stopping in Pescadero; I was just ready to get back home at this point.

Cloverdale Road was another long grind of howling winds, but the rain had let up quite a bit so I convinced myself it wasn't so bad. Gazos Creek Road was a nice break with the winds pretty well blocked, and even the stretched wires were back up, with the cut-up remains of the tree limb nearby. But as I turned south onto Highway 1 I was hit in the face by the wind and rain big time. 25 miles of this was not going to be fun. Luckily after about 10 miles the wind let up quite a bit and I was able to make pretty good time. I don't know if it was a lull in the storm or if the main force had pushed further north. Once again my mind started telling me I should have gone on to Moss Beach, but I countered by realizing there was no guarantee that the wind was lessened further north, and anyway, there was still the little matter of my numb 6 toes. I finally pulled back into Santa Cruz and loaded up the bike, threw gloves, helmet, and booties over to the right side, and cranked the heater up to 80+. I made a mental note of another good thing to do next time: have dry shoes and socks in the car. Oh well, I had done about 93 miles in terrible conditions. I guess I could survive a bit longer in a car with a heater until I got home.

I found out later that it rained over 5 inches that day in Ben Lomond (where I live). My rain gear held up for about 4 hours before leaking, and nothing in my bike bags was completely dry, but the rack bag held up surprisingly well; things inside were just slightly damp. My food bag was a little more damp and the tool bag was fairly wet, but almost everything in those was either wrapped or uncaring about being wet. My lights and bike computer were perfectly fine, except my helmet light, which I discovered a couple of days later when it started turning itself on spontaneously. I opened it up and took out the batteries and after a couple of hours drying in the sun it was okay again.

I think for next winter I'll invest in a pair of winter riding shoes. Either that or the plastic bags that everyone seems to end up wearing. I would prefer shoes that hold out the water, however, instead of having dry feet inside wet shoes. Perhaps shoes with built-in bilge pumps. Given the amount of time I spend on a bike I could certainly come up with all sorts of useful inventions for inclement weather.
Some of them might even work.