Tuesday, March 28, 2006
Breakup is the worst time to be a cyclist in Anchorage. The riding surfaces vary from dry pavement, to wet pavement, to ice, to slush, to pools of water containing chunks of ice the size of basketballs. And that’s only in the first block.
The picture above? That’s the entrance to my cul-de-sac. Every spring when the first warm weather hits, water pools and threatens to flood a neighbor’s garage until a city crew shows up with a steam wand to open a drainage ditch that they’ve clogged with a winter’s worth of snow from the street.
Even if I wanted to try, I couldn’t pedal out of here without submerging my feet. And before I could get far, I’d be swamped by a wave of muddy water thrown up by car or pickup. (Maybe I should quit whining and buy a wetsuit.)
This is purgatory. No-man’s land. The big thaw. The great unrideable goo. There’s nothing to do but bide my time on the trainer and wait for conditions to dry out. If the weather holds, it should take only a couple more weeks. Things should improve just about the time I have to leave for a bikeless week in Juneau and Sitka.
Inspiration for the blog might suffer during these difficult days.
Bear with me. Be gentle.
I’m fragile right now.