I'm in the last category although training plays a part. Commuting is the training secret weapon. Whilst the contributors to Cycling Weekly et al witter on about intervals, nutrition, power outputs, cadence etc. those who know put the miles in on the journey to work knowing that your always late so your always at full gas. You go out in all weathers 'cos you have to, not because your trying to prove a point.
Well this week I was out in some pretty challenging weather, not because I was trying to prove a point, but because I had no choice. Ok I did - Bike, walk or ski. The car was buried, the nation was in panic, the roads were closed so what do you do? Choose a mode of transport which will never get stuck, will always start (not necessarily stop 'tho) and is a massive laugh to boot.
For once the weather lived up to the hype. 3 Days of constant heavy snow showers, brutal easterlies and sub zero temps. Suddenly Scotland was behaving like all those other countries sharing this latitude but don't have the Gulf Stream keeping them toasty. Within 24 hours the roads were shut, cars were stuck everywhere and the nation ground to a halt.
Day 1 was the warm up (or cool down). Snow was due so I pedalled down to the station and let the train take the strain. Homeward lead to yet another wave of optimism seeing me head back via the Lomond hills. It was cold, the snow was horizontal but this time it was all behind me. I did one of many routes home in one of my fastest times. But the snow levels were building as I went to bed.
Day 2 dawned cold, windy and white, white, white. I hopped on the Fat bike and hit the snow. It was perfect - proper fluffies about 4-6" with drifts. Scored some drifted in single track on the way into work and felt smug as when all around me were in states of near panic.
East facing bike sheds are such a bummer
The first intimation of what we were in for came on the way home. The cycleway west of Dunfermline was now 8" deep and hard going. The single track was thigh deep. The back road home had been well tracked so straightforward. That night the wind howled, the snow beat against the window and the thunder rolled. The weather was now red. The wheels to deal with it were in motion but the fact is we can't. And why should we? It happens rarely and how do you justify the army of machinery required to deal with this situation if it sits rusting for years and years.....
Day 3 dawned and the key word was drifts. The garden was full, the car a white blob, the street gone.
No work today so it was on with the skis and off to visit friends on a outlying farm to see if they were OK. I claim the first ski descent of Saline main street. The warnings had gone to amber but the weather cares not for such classifications and got worse - 2 hours of continuous blizzard. The sun came out for some easy turns on the way home but was short lived as the snow blasted in once more. My earlier dug out drive was filled back in. The forecast was for more.
What do you do? Go home, eat food, go to bed. Time was I'd have got stressed about all of this but these days I just look at a situation and deal with it. 2015 Highland Trail was responsible for that mindset.
Day 4 was grey, windy, snowy, the same. It was supposed to be better. It wasn't. I was determined to get into work today, and more pressingly I needed food, drink, milk. It started well. The drifts were forming windslab in the brutal easterly so I could ride over the street, 12" above the tarmac in prophet like style. The road down the hill had been dug out but only so far. Suddenly I was faced with monster drifts fence to fence.
I was dragging the bike with snow up to my waist, swimming rather than walking. Only a hundred metres or so i.e. easy. In Alaska the leaders of the ITI were dragging their bikes through waist deep snow for hours.
Road riding the hard way (its 3 feet below my bike)
I got to the main road and relaxed, briefly. It was drifted in as well. Easier this time but headwind, fatbike, graupel = hard going. Got to the local office, chatted to the Opps guys who were resting between runs in the snow ploughs, did a days work.
Come 4pm it was time to go. The temps were up and the wind had eased but it was still winter. Tescos had been raided long before I got there. I got a few things (beer, curry) and headed home. I took a chance on a corner shop and they were cornering the market in milk - happy days. The going home was easy in the event - tailwind blast along the main road (slow cars are a real pain) and some deft fence hopping had me riding through wind scoured fields rather than head deep drifts. Dug out the drive (again). Ate food. Drank beer.
So now the temps are on the way up and its coming to an end. There is still a mountain of snow (OK Knock and Saline-hill) I don't have to go anywhere (Sunday commitment thankfully cancelled) so I can enjoy it. I checked up on my elderly neighbour but she had it sussed - of the generation who have freezer full of enough food to live for a year. I live from week to week so I need to get out to re-supply.
In an earlier post I asked 'how much is too much'. This week it was nearly too much. An inkling of life in Alaska maybe? Months of this every year?? But then they live a different life. They don't rely on car transport for every need. They accept and embrace the weather, not try to hide from it. For a few days we've had a taste of a better life - the village street full of pedestrians because cars weren't going anywhere so we all had to walk. Maybe some will keep it up?
For now I shudder at the thought of the recriminations, hand wringing, resignations, pontificating and rhetoric that will follow this brief period of adversity. Some seek it out, including me. Many can't cope and have to find someone to blame / sue / shout at. I don't understand that attitude, in adversity we find the best of ourselves - maybe the worst too. We live an easy life by and large. Challenges to that ease should be put into context and dealt with, safe in the knowledge that they are temporary and within our capabilities.
