We’re entering the darkest depths, folks. Thursday will have only 5 hours, 26 minutes and 54 seconds of daylight. If you can call it daylight when it comes through the thick layer of clouds that will probably be parked over Anchorage like one of those big-ass, doomsday alien ships in Independence Day.
But the beauty is in the details, because Thursday is the winter solstice, which means it’ll be as dark as it’s gonna get. On Friday, we gain 6 seconds and begin the glorious, light-gaining march to summer. If that’s not a reason to celebrate, what is? And could there possibly be a better way to celebrate than doing something silly on a bike?
That was a trick question. We all know there’s no better way to celebrate than to do something silly on a bike.
So Thursday will be the day of the first Silly Solstice Ride. And you should be there, because who knows if there will ever be another? By next year, the whole organization could fall victim to bankruptcy, fraud, embezzlement scandals and indictments.
If you’re reading this blog, you’re invited. So charge your lights and blow the dust off your bike if you’ve been too lazy to ride so far this winter. Hell, you don’t even need studded tires because the trail is groomed snow—knobbies will get the job done.
The ride will begin at 7 p.m. by Trailwatch Headquarters (the old police substation) at Westchester Lagoon, and head south on the Coastal Trail toward Kincaid Park. We’ll ride south for an hour or so, with all the wine and chocolate breaks we deem necessary, then stop and enjoy the view for a few minutes before turning around and heading back toward the lagoon.
This will be a slow-paced social ride. Anyone attempting a breakaway will be chased down, stripped of their pants and forced to ride back with one hand while trying to protect their goodies with the other.
And because it’s the darkest day of the year, we’ll brighten that sucker up with as many lights as possible. Headlamps, blinkin’ butt lights, glow sticks, disco balls, strobe lights, whatever ya got.
Fire 'em up, folks. Only six months to go until we’re ridin' on dirt again.