Cold Ride Home

I find the sun still up and the weather nice after I finish weekend chores so head out for the usual jaunt up Rocky Canyon Road to the ridge and back down Trail 4. Or that’s the plan.

We awoke to continuing rain.

Jesse hung his unused rain fly which became our only cover from rain.

It had rained all night and was still raining. Our previous fire pit was now a puddle. Thank the gods for gasoline. Since Jesse was the one with the injured wrist, it made sense to give him ample physical therapy opportunities. Hurry up Jesse, we’re cold!

We had thought of doing some more riding but now with the unrelenting rain, we just wanted to get home.

Oh, and I kept plenty dry in spite of my brothers’ hopes. In fact, Jesse with his big words and fancy tarp was the one who suffered in the night. I think he ended up with no dry pants. So again, good thing we let him do some work to warm up.

I set my boots by the fire to dry. Somehow that’s never a good idea. They ended up with a whole new style and a lot less toe room.

As soon as things were as dry as we could hope for amidst the steady rain, we bolted for home. Starting out cold and wet to ride in the cold and wet makes you ... well, more cold and wet. I flipped on the heated grips and the built-in BMW masseuse but it didn’t seem to help my brothers at all.

Go another twenty miles, repeat. I almost felt sorry for them.

The next day, of course, was beautiful. I still had the 300 mile ride back to Boise so I didn’t mind a little sunshine.

I was still trying to find the right headphones for my helmet. I made regular stops for adjustments. At least I had a bag of cookies from my mom. Thanks mom!

Idaho’s rivers took me home, able to go fast enough on the highway to carve through spurts of rain.