Wildflowers

I biked to Pullman only twice this week. Now that I'm off contract, I try to stay out of the office as much as possible. For the most part, the weather has not been ideal for biking because of the wind, cold and rain. At times it feels more like the beginning of autumn. June is like this on the Palouse, so I've learned to accept the fact rather than complain about it.

One of the few reminders that it's spring is the abundance of wildflowers (and the absence of snow). I took this picture on Monday, which was the only sunny and warm day before temperatures dropped down into the 40s, and it became windy and rainy again.

Spring Commencement

Last Saturday was spring commencement at WSU. I biked to the commencement ceremony (but not in my regalia!). The wind out of the west was really strong. I stopped momentarily on my ride to capture video of the wind whipping through the grass and brush along the trail. I was listening to Moby's Play album. This song, "Everloving", fit the reflective mood that I was in that Saturday. A large group of undergraduates with whom I had worked over the past year were receiving their diplomas. They were either returning from their student teaching or embarking on that experience. There were also many graduating Master's and PhD students whose committees I had served. I am really proud of all of their accomplishments

Wind, Rain and Hair

I biked on Monday and Tuesday of this week into ferocious westerly winds. The rain was intermittent, so I wasn't particularly wet or cold. But the wind was constant, and I really took a beating. I leaned into the wind with my aerobars and geared way down.

On Tuesday as I was getting ready for my bike ride, my daughter's friend knocked at the front door to offer Maya a ride with her mom to school. Outside it was windy and rainy. The kids' school is just one block away, and the roads running past the school on either side are choked with cars and buses. I couldn't imagine that getting a ride would save any time at all. Later I commented on the irony of her getting a one-block lift to school while her dad prepares for a 20-mile round-trip commute in the same howling wind. She agreed that it was rather silly but commented on how strong the wind was and what it would have done to her hair (She said this with a smile. As a swimmer, she is not averse to messy, damp hair). I replied that I knew very well how strong the wind was (I was biking into it), and that I could appreciate what it did to hair.

Thus, on my way into work, as I made slow progress against the strong winds along the Chipman Trail, I had more time than usual to reflect. Mostly, I was reflecting on how sucky it was to bike into strong wind. At that moment, I didn't care whether to call it a "westerly wind" or "ponent" or something more profane. It was just hard work and no fun at all. Nine months after starting this blog, I've written about, photographed and even video recorded my experiences. The goal has been to raise awareness of the joys of commuting by bike. I didn't feel much joy biking into the wind this week, and even my own daughter drove one block to school to avoid that same wind.

However, I still believe the experience is worth it for all the reasons I've detailed in my blog, and I hope that those who have checked out my blog will agree. On Saturday, I will bike to Pullman to participate in spring commencement. I drove in yesterday with my regalia and a change of clothes. I have many undergraduate and graduate students participating in the ceremony, so I look forward to witnessing the event. It may be rainy and windy that morning, but I'm prepared.

Llevant

Years ago, before Lysa and I were married, we spent a year together in Barcelona. Just before leaving, we bought a ceramic tile mosaic (four tiles) depicting the sun in the center of a compass rose with the names of the most common winds in Catalunya. We've kept these tiles for 20 years; currently, they adorn one of our kitchen walls. I took a picture for today's post.

I have a more intimate relationship with wind as a bike commuter on the Palouse than I have ever had before, and I find myself pondering this innocuous mosaic above our kitchen cabinets. The rolling hills of the Palouse were formed (and continue to be sculpted) from silt blown in from the prevailing winds out of the west. These same picturesque hills are a challenge for bikers, especially in Pullman, which is hillier than Moscow. Fortunately, I have few of the steeper hills to climb in Pullman - my biggest challenge being up Stadium Way to my office in Cleveland Hall on the WSU Campus.

On my Catalan compass rose, these west winds are known as the Ponent from "setting sun". I bike into them on many or most mornings. Ironically, the Ponent seem stronger to me in the morning and then tend to taper off a bit in the afternoon when I bike east to Moscow. In fact, if I am really unlucky, the winds shift out of the east in the afternoon, and I have a headwind on the way home.

The easterly winds on my Catalan compass rose are called Llevant from "rising sun". In Catalunya, these are moist, gentle winds that blow in from the Mediterranean Sea. Lysa and I spent many hot and humid afternoons on the beach when we lived in Catalunya, and I can still feel the welcome cool breeze off the sea if I close my eyes and let my mind wander...

Last week, we had strong easterly winds. The Llevant practically blew me into Pullman, and I sailed to my office in less than 30 minutes. I was a flash of blue, black and green - an aluminum, rubber and spandex marvel roaring down the Chipman Trail. But instead of ushering in a refreshing Mediterranean-like spring rain, the Llevant dumped several inches of snow onto the Palouse. The snow melted quickly, and I was able to bike again into Pullman for my Friday morning class. Today, Easter Sunday, is warm and overcast. Perhaps spring is here to stay.

The Flood

After a week of rain, snow, more snow, melting snow, more snow/rain, and snow melt from the mountains, the soil of the Palouse is saturated. Paradise Creek was running higher today than I have seen it before, and the trail was flooded in places.

I didn't see the first patch of flooded trail until I was right on top of it. When I biked to Pullman this morning, it was still snowing/raining, and I had my head down against a strong wind out of the west. The first flooded section was only a couple of inches deep. However, the section of trail just before the tunnel under Sunshine Road was much deeper. I took a picture of that section this morning, and I also recorded myself biking through it later in the day - at about 6:30pm. The first part of the video is of the water rushing under the bridge by Airport Road in Pullman

I leave an extra pair of socks in my office in case I get really wet on my ride in to Pullman. I had my soggy clothes hanging on my bike so that they would dry faster. Fortunately, I didn't have office hours or visitors - They would have wondered at the sight of my drying socks, jacket, and biking tights. Everything was dry by this afternoon when I suited up and headed for home. The ride back was dry and clear except for the one patch of still flooded trail.

Last days of winter?

Today is the last day of winter - at least on the calendar. But as I write this post, it is snowing like crazy outside and the temperatures are still in the low 30s. Last week was spring break at WSU. The kids in Moscow also had their spring break, and so did Lysa at the University of Idaho. I had hopes of biking together as a family, enjoying the sunshine, and relishing the approach of spring. All my hopes were dashed with the onset of a new round of foul, winter weather.

Nevertheless, I am feeling a sense of accomplishment. I managed to bike through the winter despite the cold and snow. At times it occurs to me that perhaps I was lucky in that the snowfall was not as heavy as other years. Then I remind myself that both WSU and UI closed their campuses for a day back in January because of the snow. This season we had temperatures in the low teens, we had ice, hail, freezing rain and ferocious wind. I biked through it all (ok, I confess I didn't bike in hail).

Biking to work today epitomized my winter biking experiences. I biked through slush on the way to Pullman, and then on the way home, the snow started falling harder, the temperatures dropped, and I encountered some icy spots on the trail. Hooray for studded tires - I am certain that they saved me from a painful fall.

Generally speaking, people's driving habits deteriorate with the worsening weather. Motorists tend to be a bit more aggressive and less patient with me. I had folks cut me off, not wait at crosswalks, and drive too close - perhaps hoping to give me a face full of spray. I don't blame anybody; afterall, I don't like driving in cruddy weather either. But I particularly don't like to bike in it!

The high point of the ride today - the last ride of winter - was the sight of winter wheat. The green blades of the new spouts are like fuzz on the fields. Today they poked above the white snow. I took a picture of the field across the highway. The greening fields reminds me that spring really is just right around the corner even if it doesn't feel like it.

...and it most definitely does NOT feel like sping this morning - our first day of spring on the calendar. Lysa took a picture of the accumulated snow in front of our house. We must be at about 6 inches already, and it is still coming down.

Winter Part 2

Apart from the snow we got in mid January, which closed the universities and schools all across the state, the winter has been relatively mild. The January snow eventually melted, and within two weeks I was back to biking. Thus, for most of February I have biked at least two times per week. The roads and trail have been clear enough to allow me to keep the studded tires off for the vast majority of my rides. I am glad to have them, though, for those one or two mornings this month when I worried about early morning ice on the trails. For the most part, however, the temperatures have been above freezing, and I've even shed a layer for the commutes back to Moscow in the late afternoon when it gets up into the 40s. I have had no adventurous mishaps or particularly daring rides to report.

All that changed yesterday morning. We had snow over the weekend and the temperatures dropped into the low teens. We only had an inch or two of new snow that stuck, and it was powdery - an easy snow to bike through. Underneath the powder was treacherous icy pavement, so I was grateful for the studded tires.

I left the house just before 9am. I got a later start than usual to avoid the rush hour. It was about 20 degrees when I left the house. I haven't done much cold weather biking since moving to the Palouse, so I'm not really acclimated to the biting cold on my fingers in particular. I'm sure that the holes in the fingertips of my glove liners contributed to the rapid onset of pain and then numbness. The numb in my fingers was the most alarming. I clenched and relaxed my hands, banged them together, and eventually removed my outer glove to blow warmth onto my completely numb fingers. Not until I started really working hard on the trail did my fingers begin to sting, and I felt life returning to them.

The ride home in the evening was equally cold (about 20 degrees), but the powdery snow had all burned off in the afternoon sun. After a full day of work, my heart rate was up, and I was warm - no numbness to report.

I'm ready for spring, but typically (at least since we've lived here) we get a second round of wintry weather or Winter Part 2. Snow is in the forecast for tonight, and it may snow again this weekend. If so, then I'll hit the mountain trails for some cross-country skiing. If I'm lucky, we'll have snow in the higher altitudes, but it'll stay dry and/or warm down on the Palouse.