March 10, 2020
Get Outta Dodge: Here we go
And all of a sudden, it’s time to hit the road. The plan is to leave around noon, today, for a relaxed four day drive to Moab.
We have assembled vast piles of clothing, gear, and various other flotsam and jetsam which we think, but aren’t completely sure, we’ll need in the next 12 days. A confounding factor in packing is the weather in Moab this time of year. Depending on which weather source you use, the temps at the start of each day’s ride (8 AM) is predicted to be around 40 Fahrenheit (Brrrr) but then rise to the mid-sixties in the early afternoon (Mmmmm). The wind speed ranges from zero to 20 mph, and there is even a slight chance of rain one day. A forecast that pretty much covers 3/4 of the year’s weather palette.
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Given this, the prudent cyclist packs … well ... everything they own. Jerseys, wool base layers, a cold weather jacket, a rain jacket, arm warmers, tights, wool socks, cotton socks, fingerless gloves, full gloves, a beanie cap and that gorgeous merino wool long sleeve jersey I bought online from a boutique shop in New Zealand last year. Bring it all. Evacuate the closet. Empty the drawers. Jam every last stitch of that crap into a bag because you might need it. The disembodied voice that urged you to buy every manner of cycling apparel over the years, unbeknownst to you, was preparing you for this very day. This is also a moment you realize that 65% of all the clothing you own is cycling related. Be proud of that, by the way.
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The mounds of “stuff” piled and sorted the last couple days are a source of dismay to the family dogs. Dexter and Phoebe know that when bags and baskets come out, piled full in multiple rooms, when the humans are walking back and forth with hands full, and multiple trips up and down the basement stairs are made, that is the harbinger of a trip to the kennel. They dread that. The cats don’t give a rip. They get to stay home, while Joanie (Thanks Joanie!!) drops in every day to feed them, scratch their heads, and (ahem) refresh their litter boxes. Like a day at the spa for the cats. The dogs? Shipped off to the Gulag. Their faces droop at the thought. And a Clumber Spaniel’s default state is a droopy face … it’s just more pronounced. Well, they are taking one for the team. We all pitch in when we must.
I am also happy to report that Margaret seems nearly recovered from her bout of the flu, and even happier to report that (fingers crossed, knocking on wood, salt tossed over the shoulder, etc.) I seem to have ducked and dodged that particular bullet. No signs of illness for me so I am assuming that through the sheer force of my will I stayed healthy. Yes!
Marg and I are SO ready for this vacation. It has been a challenging several months, and getting away is just the thing for us right now. We’ll probably do a single post about the entire road trip on Thursday night, before we drive to Moab and encamp there for a week. Then we are in the saddle for four glorious days of riding. Thanks for coming along.
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