Riding in a Winter Wonderland

Though not technically winter, November is when my mountaineering gear gradually makes its way to the forefront of the garage. By now, we’ve typically ascended Mt. Washington’s snowy Lion’s Head trail, cross-country skied through a New England national forest and sunk our ice axes into the first freeze at Champney Falls.

Not this year.

In July, scientists announced the arrival of El Niño, and expected the climate phenomenon to last through winter 2009-10. It looks like they predicted right. Just three weeks shy of the first official day of winter and I can still mountain bike in shorts and a short-sleeved jersey.

Sure, the lack of wintry weather means my gaiters and crampons won’t come out for a while. But I’m not complaining.

My point of view on a sunny day at High Rocks.

Riding Wissahickon in late November in shorts and short sleeves.

Warm Night Air

Of course my last post was about not riding in the dark. Because this one is about riding in the dark. No, I didn’t change my mind. I had company.

It was a balmy 68 degrees yesterday afternoon when I received an offer to ride later that night with my favorite roadie-turned-backpacker (“It’s great off-season cross training!”) -turned-roadie friend.

We set off after the sun had set and rode into the darkness to meet Justin on his commute home. The 15-mile ride felt effortless as we filled up on the unseasonably warm night air. Lights blinked, pedals spun and conversation flowed.




It was beyond enjoyable, undeniably refreshing—and not nearly as terrifying as I had imagined.

The Darkness

My daily commute to meet Justin ended with Daylight Savings. Why? Because it is approaching pitch blackness when I would start my ride. And I’m scared of the dark.

In year’s past I’ve tried to continue the commute into winter, but it’s not enjoyable. In fact, I’m rather terrified to ride my bike alone at night. It’s not the cars that worry me. (The lights on my bike are plentiful and insanely bright.) It’s fear of the unknown: Who’s hiding in that 9-acre stretch of shadowy woods? What will emerge from behind that hedge?

Perhaps I am the only one who thinks about these things, save for my dad who likely passed on the paranoia to me. Really, I think he used to scare himself with his “ghost of Captain Benny” bedtime stories. But, I digress.

This year, my transition from starry sky to cellar is made a bit easier by a recent acquirement—a like-new CycleOps Club Pro 300PT with power tap.


It looks fairly appealing to ride, no? Certainly more appealing than my bike looks sitting in the trainer.

Let’s just hope these looks aren’t deceiving.