Determination

I'm home again, though a little worse for the wear. I needed to go see Maroz (Tuesday being a regular day for this) and since there is only one viable option for getting there, I kitted up in rain gear and headed down on my bike.

Before I continue, I realize that I haven't properly introduced my bike, and since it is a fairly constant feature in these postings, let me correct that lapse. Here it is:
"Gazelle" is a popular Dutch brand of bicycle, and mine is now 1 1/2 years old. It has 8 speeds, disk brakes, shocks on the front forks and seat, and a battery-free, automatic headlight.
It is heavier than two of my mountain bike (which I'm told is a tank), so pedaling up hills is a real pain. Luckily, there are few hills other than in the dunes, but cycling with the wind is another matter. (Some days, I think the only thing keeping me on the ground in strong wind is the weight of this bike!) If the wind is behind me, all is great, I often wonder why the bikers going the other way look so miserable and go so slowly. Then I turn a corner and realize that the wind has been an ally up to now.

That's what happened on my trip down to the stable, the wind was a suggestion, but I had a feeling that would change. It was raining also, so it was just as well I'd taken the time to put on all the waterproof stuff. I saw, the longer I was at the stable, the more the rain looked like it was mixing with snow, which told me that it was colder than I'd thought on the ride down. Hmmm. Well, I couldn't hide out at the stable all day, but I was in no way looking forward to my return journey - the only positive factor being that home waited with dry clothes and hot showers!

Sighing inwardly, I set out. The first thing I realized is that the wind is blowing in a gusty way, so there is no regular force to lean into, but one that lets up and swirls around to buffet you from a new direction. Ick. The second thing I realized was that the semi-frozen rain hurt while it was being flung into my face. So I put my head down and just mentally told myself it would be an upleasant 25 minute ride home. It was, especially since 1/2 there, my boots gave up being waterproof (and I'm using that term with a lot of irony) and so my feet began getting colder and wetter. By the end of the ride, I felt like they were enclosed in two little water balloons.

I also noticed as I slogged along, that the air was perfumed with a smell not unlike rotten eggs or sewage. Oh great, have we had so much rain that now the sewers are backing up? Or is it just the canal slime getting stirred up and rising to the surface (trust me, that really stinks). Hard to say, but it kind of suited the whole mood of the ride. My one ray of light was that my bike didn't break down or get a flat, then forcing me to push it the rest of the way home (remember the water balloons?). Arriving back at our apartment building, I wheeled my trusty steed into the lobby where it lives and realized the final indignity, my rain trousers are losing integrity...in the seat. Sigh (outwardly this time). So, I got upstairs, feeling like a child that couldn't quite make it to the facility in time and decided to begin my day all over again.

This means I am now sitting in flannel jammie bottoms, turtleneck, and drinking hot tea. At least I'm home, something the cats clearly wonder why I'd ever leave in the first place. I'm beginning to wonder too! By the way, Hallie, I know you're laughing at this, so I just hope you get landed with a few more freckles as a result of the warm sunshine you'll be in next week! There, sweet revenge...or not.

From this, you can see the overhang in front of our kitchen window; it's about 1 1/2 meters deep. That means the rain hitting the glass halfway up is really getting blown around.

What this photo doesn't show is the 45 degree slant to the rain, as well and the snowflakes mixed in and the gusts that probably make it more of 55 degrees of slope...bleh!