It was a week and counting Thursday since I had last been out on the snow-covered dirt roads of Michiganderburgh. In that time I rocked a pretty unenjoyable head and chest cold which made spending time out in single digit temperatures a less than desirable option to blowing snot rockets on myself as I rode the trainer in the Stankment™.
But, as with most things, all bad things come to an end and I woke up Saturday morning feeling the best I have in a week. After breakfast and coffee while watching the lone Premiere League match of the weekend and blowing a giant gob of snot out of my face that looked sort of like a large baby bird covered in bloody placenta, I decided it was time to revisit the snirt roads for a ride. A short ride, but a ride nonetheless.
The temperatures were the highest they have been in weeks, topping out at just under 40 degrees. Despite Michigan’s version of a heat wave, it didn’t stop it from snowing during the first few miles of my ride. As I expected the crap paved roads were clear of snow and ice, and when the pavement ended the dirt roads were about 95% covered with packed snow and ice; perfect rolling studded fatties worry free.
As usual, the mile of small rolling hills on pavement to the dirt roads had me questioning if I was the most out of shape cyclist in Michigan (big, fat studded, 8 psi, knobby tires tend to do that to a person’s psyche), but once I hit the snow covered, icy roads I felt much better and no longer felt like laying down in a road side ditch to wait for death’s comforting hand to lead me home, saving me from a life further filled with dead legs and gasping lungs. Being hyperbolic… it’s sort of my “thing.”
The warmer temps were appreciated and made my return to outside riding that much more tolerable, they even made the breeze coming from the southwest a bit better. Now it was just a breeze with a wind chill that was barely discernible. Rather than a wind that cut through three layers of winter clothing like a cold knife through frozen turd.
As I made my way down Coe Road I spied some new “found signage” in the form of a no trespassing sign posted by the Swamp Buck folks (I have no idea who they are, I think it’s a private hunting camp). I totally dig the look of their hand-lettered “metal” font on a piece of old house siding. I also dig how they sort of forgot how to spell “trespassing” and just focused on the DIY design. Then again, I should watch what I say, I can’t spel my way out of a paper bag [not sure what that means… why I would be in a paper bag or why spelling would play a part in exiting said paper bag].
There were some stretches of road where there dirt was waking up from its winter slumber, but there was never enough to make me wish I didn’t have the fatty and the studs. I’ve been riding these dirt roads in the winter for four years now and the addition of, first the fatty, and now studded tires have done wonders for my confidence and ability to stay upright on the ice. Heavy, but totally worth it. Plus, I figure once I move to the hardtail and the cross bike in the spring it will seem that much lighter and have the cottage cheese filled tubes that I call legs feeling that much more spry.
It wouldn’t be a dirt road ride without at least once dog encounter and Saturday would prove no different. The critter above came out to greet me as I rolled by its house and then continued to run along me for few hundred yards. I hate when they do that, because I feel bad that they’ve strayed that far from their yard. Oh well, they always stop at some point and I figure they’re smart enough to find their way home, I mean we’re not exactly talking about dogs like my Jake; a dog so dimwitted he could only be mine.
Speaking of Jake, I credit our relationship with helping me deal with the dirt road dogs better. They used to drive me crazy and piss me off to no end, but now I deal with them a lot better. I’m not saying I want to get bit and visit the ER again, but I’m dealing with them better. Thanks Jake.
The highlight of my ride sadly has no photo to accompany it. I was making my return on Wing Road (as seen above in the photo of the random, roadside slipper) when I saw I car stopped about 30 yards ahead. I thought they were stopped to get rid of a drained cased of Busch Light, ask directions or to throw something at me. I could see them looking off to my right so I started slowing down to see what they were looking at. Just then a bald eagle swooped down from the trees, across the road and over the field to my left. It was the first one I’ve ever seen out “in the wild” and it was freaking huge! Its wingspan was easily six feet wide and I couldn’t get over what an amazing sight it was. It was a real “double rainbow moment” and as it banked in the sky overhead I swear I heard it screech “AMERICA!!!”
Once I closed my dropped jaw, I continued on. As I passed the car full of twenty-somethings–also in the process of closing their jaws–I said “Pretty amazing stuff, huh?” To which the young woman driving replied just as I knew she would– “I KNOW, RIGHT?”
I was pretty happy to get out Saturday, especially since a Sunday ride is off the table with Wifey up at 5 A.M. to fly out on business until late Thursday night. So, I’ll be hanging with B-Man for the day and watching some FA Cup footy on the tube. There are worse ways to spend a Sunday afternoon, that’s for sure.
Looking forward to a week of warmer temps and hopefully some additional miles.
Later.