Long Commutes in the Rain

Most transportation cyclists eventually get comfortable with riding in the rain, and for me this was never particularly a problem. In the beginning, my commutes through the city were short and I mainly remember struggling with poor visibility and chaotic traffic, before getting used to it all. But as my travel radius increased, so did my exposure to rain. Some things began to matter that did not matter as much before, and I gradually made adjustments. 

As far as the bike, the big thing for me was waterproofing. I carry a laptop always when cycling for transportation, a DSLR camera much of the time, and also hand-written documents. These items absolutely cannot get wet. While there is now a wealth of attractive new bicycle bags on the market, many of them are not designed to resist water beyond a short ride. For long commutes, I suggest using a touring-grade bag or one that is specifically described as waterproof. The Carradice I've been using on my Brompton for the past 5 months has been pretty good so far (for as long as 50 miles in continuous rain in Ireland - with both my laptop and camera inside), as was the Po Campo pannier I used on my full-sized bikes before that. Ortlieb bags are probably an even safer bet. Just in case, I keep a plastic bag inside for emergencies, and I always store water-sensitive items in internal compartments.

An issue for those who use leather saddles, is that these can get soggy (and, consequently, deformed) after long rides in the rain. A good saddle cover helps, and the stock one from from Brooks shown here is actually not the best example. Normally I use a thick gray one from Rivendell that fits tightly all around the saddle. It is deep, too, which protects the underside of the saddle as well. I am sure there are others that do a good job. Alternatively, there are specially treated leather saddles - such as Selle Anatomica - that claim to be waterproof. 

Finally, long exposure to rain might call for additional bike maintenance. On a bicycle without a chaincase, lubing the chain is probably a good idea. And even if you're not into cleaning your bike, the debris that gathers around the brake calipers and derailleur is worth wiping off to keep everything functioning smoothly. The need for this kind of maintenance after long rides in a downpour certainly makes a good argument for internally geared hubs, enclosed hub brakes and a full chaincase. However, bikes with those features may not be ideal for hilly long distance commutes.

As far as the cyclist, clothing choices get trickier - especially if you want to ride in regular clothes and don't have the opportunity to change upon arrival. A truly waterproof outer layer is essential. But equally important is breathability, since you are exerting yourself more than you would on a shorter ride. When I started riding longer distances I discovered that my usual raincoat was neither entirely waterproof, nor very breathable. Eventually I found one that worked well - made of light, technical fabric with lots of vents and a removable hood. Rain capes may be another option, with some breathable, cinchable ones from Iva Jean and Cleverhoods recently introduced. Just as crucial as outerwear is waterproof footwear: Shoes that are fine on short rides can get soggy after 10+ miles pedaling in the rain, and you probably don't want to sit around with wet feet all day. 

Of course, all the general tips for riding in the rain still apply: Lights, fenders, extra caution. On an upright bike, I don't feel like the rain is hitting me in the face as hard as it does on a roadbike, which makes things more pleasant. Once outside the city, I generally find it fairly peaceful and low-stress. Mixing ideas from transportation cycling and touring has been helpful for me and that's what I would suggest to others with long rainy commutes. Find a setup that works for you, and enjoy not being stuck in suburban rain-day traffic!

Categories: Brompton, rain, transportation options

In Defense of Bad Weather

All week long people have been apologising for the weather. It's been raining severely for at least a portion of every day that I've been here. But the thing is, I really don't mind. And it is certainly not ruining my stay here.

Consider, for instance, that some of the most dramatic scenery emerges in bad weather. The gathering of storm clouds. The mist rising over the glens. The waves crashing onto rocky shores. Tall grass windswept. These things cannot be captured - or seen, for that matter - without this so-called "bad" weather. In the rain, colours look brighter, more saturated. The smell of flowers grows more intense, Textures come out that are not otherwise visible.

In bad weather, you get to know a place better. Any spot can look charming in the sunshine and under blue skies. But how will it look in the rain and under the shadow of storm clouds? Some places are rather depressing as soon as the weather turns bad; others are breathtakingly romantic.

They say rain is good for your complexion, that it makes your skin radiant and restores elasticity. Just think: Every time you are out in the rain, you are really getting a beauty treatment.

In the rain the country roads are mostly empty - ideal for cycling in peace and tranquility while enjoying views unobscured by cars and tourists.

It's a  cliché to say there is no such thing as bad weather, and I don't really believe that anyway. There are tornados, hurricanes, lightning storms, blizzards. But some heavy rain? I get my camera, check my brakes, wear waterproof clothing, turn my lights on, protect my equipment inside a bicycle bag, and enjoy the ride. No need to apologise, Ireland - the weather is lovely!

Categories: Ireland, rain, travel

A Ride with Irene

And so we have weathered the storm. Here in Boston, the general attitude toward Hurricane/ Tropical Storm Irene has mostly been one of sarcasm. Sure, there was some anxiety - stocking up on water and that sort of thing. But for the most part it's been a collective rolling of the eyes, a general feeling that the whole thing was unnecessarily hyped up by the media. One local establishment posted a handwritten sign stating "Closed tomawrah due to wicked bad hurricane!" Other businesses ranted against the public transit system for shutting down - drafting "Closed for the Day Thanks to MBTA" signs explaining that their employees have no way of getting to work - but that otherwise they would have happily remained open.

My own feeling was that the hurricane/ storm was not so much intentionally overhyped, as unpredictable - and there was a conscious decision to err on the side of caution. I also felt that it was insensitive of some to make light of a potentially destructive phenomenon just because it did not cause havoc in their neighbourhood. We live on the border of Somerville and Cambridge, MA, where the storm felt mild - but it did damage even here. Around mid-day Saturday, a large tree toppled over onto a major road around the corner from us, knocking out power lines and blocking part of the street until the city cleared it away. Had anyone been walking, cycling or driving on that side of the street at that exact moment, they could very well have been killed.

Today we carefully cycled around the neighbourhood and discovered more trees uprooted and large branches strewn across side streets. The strange thing is that the wind did not feel all that strong even during the worst of it, so we were surprised to see some fairly large trees knocked over. Does this mean they had shallow root systems?

Powerlines were downed in quite a few places, too. One local coffee shop that decided to stay open lost power on Sunday afternoon, yet remained operational for as long as some pre-brewed coffee remained. Customers would come in and sit with their drinks and pastries in the dark - quite happily, since this was one of the very few places open.

Surveying the damage in our neighbourhood, I think that the calls for caution were justified, even if the storm did not reach hurricane level. Overwhelmingly, motorists chose to stay off the roads here and the streets have been mostly empty - which I am certain accounts for the lack of injuries and casualties, considering the fallen trees and dangling powerlines. Cap'n Transit wrote a post a couple of days ago about the connection between driving and hurricane deaths that is worth reading.

I hope that all my East Coast readers are doing well, and that the storm has not been too severe for you. Has anyone been cycling?

Categories: Boston, mixte, rain

Cycling in a Coastal Downpour

On the second morning of our trip I awoke to the sound of vigorous drums, which I soon realised was pelting rain. Outside, the line between sky and ocean was blurred and the patch of rocky beach we occupied was flooded. Inside, everything was damp from humidity - our clothing, the bedding, our faces. We had known that the forecast promised intermittent rain, so this was not a surprise and we didn't despair. We were not planning to cycle every day; we had loads of other things to do. We would see.

But as we drank coffee, the rain appeared to let up. Things were looking good - picturesquely stormy, but calm. It looked as if the downpour had exhausted itself in the course of the night and we decided to set off on our bikes after all, going along the coast for a manageable distance.

The ride started out fine. We made our way up a winding hill, past ominously abandoned beaches. Moody skies hung low over a dark gray ocean. The empty roads were promising. There was only a mild drizzle and we agreed that if things stayed like this, it would be even better than sunny weather - cooler, and less crowded. After cycling for a bit it grew humid and I removed my rain jacket, stashing it inside the handlebar bag. Two minutes later, the skies opened up. There was no build-up; it was as if someone opened a floodgate.

Instead of turning back we persisted, hoping the rain would eventually ease up again. But it only intensified. The amount of water was unbelievable, even compared to the many other times I've cycled in the rain. Visibility became non-existent, with everything turning gray and liquidy. The roads became flooded and soon I was cycling with my wheels partly submerged in water. Roads are terrible in this area, and even on a dry day it is a task to navigate around potholes. Now that they were invisible underwater, I could neither anticipate nor avoid them. My bike bounced violently over ditches at high speeds. This felt distinctly unsafe, especially on curvy descents. On a bike with narrow tires, the ride would have been simply impossible for me.

The coastal road was narrow and winding. As I tried to maintain a consistent line of travel, motorists sped past us, well over the posted speed limit, sending sprays of yet more water in our direction. I had my lights on and could only hope I was visible to them. My jersey - which had started out a bright crimson - was now a dark, dull brown. There are a few tricky spots on this route, where several roads merge on a twisty downhill - so that one must resist picking up speed and be prepared to brake instead. At these instances it became frighteningly apparent that my brakes did not work well under such conditions. I suspended disbelief and did my best, feathering the brakes and trying not to have a panic attack. Climbing up a flooded road while bouncing over potholes was horrifying as well.

Despite my best efforts I found this type of cycling too stressful to enjoy. I couldn't see where I was going, let alone anything resembling scenery, and frankly I had nothing to prove. This was meant to be a pleasant trip and not an endurance contest. I signaled to the Co-Habitant that I wanted to turn around, and we did - making our way back through the unrelenting downpour the same way we came. Before returning home, we took a detour and stopped at a hardware store to pick up oil for the bikes - later spending a great deal of time wiping sand and debris off of them and treating the components to prevent rust - which can form alarmingly quickly in a coastal environment. My wool cycling clothing took a day to air-dry, and my shoes are still soaking wet.

Though I know others enjoy the challenge of riding in this kind of weather, this is not an experience I care to repeat unless absolutely necessary. It is one thing to cycle in the rain, but a trip along the coast in a continuous and forceful downpour - with the roads flooded, visibility poor, and the wind assaulting my face, body and bike with sandy salt water - is not something I can justify, both in terms of safety and in terms of its detrimental effect on equipment. Hopefully there will be better weather ahead... though the forecast remains ominous!

Categories: North Shore, rain, Rivendell, travel

Soggy and Squeaky

Since Linda began a new life as an outdoor bike, it has been raining heavily and continuously. I considered bringing the poor bike back inside, but resisted. In her 15 years of life she has probably seen worse. So I left her outdoors as it poured day after day.

So what's the damage to a Dutch transport bike after two weeks of being left out in the rain? Well, the main thing is that the front brake has developed a shrill squeal. I didn't know that could happen to hub brakes, but apparently it can. The stopping power is the same as before, only now it sounds like a hysterical piglet. The rear coaster brake makes no noise. Should I somehow lubricate the front hub? We are scaring people at intersections! [Update: The front brake squeal stopped on its own as soon as the rains stopped. Works as well as before and just as silently.]

The other thing is that the leather grips are now completely soggy, since, unlike the saddle, I made no provisions to cover them. I installed these grips in October and they've been rained and snowed on many times with no adverse consequences, so I didn't think it would be a big deal to just leave them uncovered. But of course when it rains non-stop for so many days, it's a different story. Not sure what to do now other than just wait for the sun and let them dry out naturally. But in the future I should try Bobbin and Sprocket's smart solution.

Otherwise, nothing on the bike seems any worse for wear. I am especially pleased that my silver lug-lining (done with a Sharpie!) has held up and that the bottle dynamo is unaffected. Now if only it would stop raining!

Categories: Gazelle, loop frame, rain

On the Road in Stormy Weather

The clouds gathered darkly as Francesco and I set off on our fateful voyage. Braving the wind in my long tights, jacket, gloves and hat, I could not believe that in the third week of May the weather was identical to what it had been in November. No sooner had the flowers finally bloomed, than their petals were assaulted by harsh winds and pelting rains. Now they lay scattered all over the roads - a pink and lilac watery mush for everyone to trample.

"How fitting," said Francesco, "that it is on such a day you are taking me away to be left with strangers. For the dark skies reflect the darkness that will reign in my heart."

Oh Francesco! So melodramatic. In fact, we were on our way to the Ride Studio Cafe, who are loaning me a roadbike for the formidable paceline rides. Since the RSC is nearly 10 miles away and I can only get there by bike, it was agreed that I would arrive on Francesco and then swap him for the loaner bike. It will only be for a few weeks. And as soon as we arrived it was clear that my Moser was in good company: A pastel Pinarello beauty made eyes at him from across the storage room, whispering "Buena Sera" in a sultry voice. He forgot about me immediately, and with a light heart I began my journey home on a sleek titanium machine.

But my sense of relief was short-lived. The skies opened up within minutes of my departure and rain began to pour with a violence that even the forecast had not predicted.

Soon my 23mm tires were cutting through lake-sized puddles and skipping over slippery tree-roots that protruded from the cracked asphalt, as water came down in buckets from the ever-darkening skies. I could not see where I was going, and it was only thanks to the miracle of the homing instinct - aided perhaps by the bicycle's admirable handling - that I got back intact.

When I finally dismounted the bike, the sight that awaited me was gruesome. Every inch of the formerly pristine machine was now covered with sand, dirt, pine needles, and all manner of road filth. Even the minuscule saddlebag they took the trouble to assemble for me was now a soggy, grime-covered mess. Then I took a look in the mirror, and realised that the same could be said of me! Forget "skunk tail" - My entire back, my legs, and also parts of my face were covered with what I hope is just wet sand, but looked far more disgusting. Is this what normally happens without fenders? It is far more dramatic than what I'd imagined!

The rest of the evening was spent showering, loading the washing machine, and scooping bits of plantlife (please don't let it be anything more gross than that!) from under the brake calipers and off the brake pads. Later, the Co-Habitant came home and thoroughly examined my loaner steed... upon which he discovered a substantial gash in the front tire. Seriously? Argh! But I guess I should be glad - otherwise it could have failed during a paceline ride, which is one of my biggest fears. So I think I will be putting some tires with puncture protection on this bike. Continental GatorSkins might be a tad slower than the Michelin ProRace3s currently on it, but the gash in the rubber is enough to persuade me it's worth it. What is your favourite "fast" road tire with puncture protection?

The forecast promises pretty much constant rain and autumnal temperatures for the entire week, and the gloomy weather is really becoming difficult to take. I will probably be going roadcycling in the rain again, simply because otherwise I will never get back into a regular practice of riding. At least next time I will know what to expect.

Categories: Italian bicycles, rain, roadcycling