Yesterday was the first time for almost a month without downpour, and today the sky was blue and crystal clear. OK, it was a bit nippy, but the chance to walk the Daybird for a couple of hours was welcomed with both legs.
The oldest offspring, recently escaped from the family mansion having moved to his own condo, arrived around ten in the morning, his tired 1971 Volvo sounding like a wet fart when idling. He has plans of installing a small V8 under the bonnet of the poor unsuspecting car.
You wouldn’t be young if you were sensible, so it goes without saying that the rascal arrived without sufficient insulation. I handed him a training suit made from 100% artificial and synthetic fabric supposed to keep a body warm by keeping the skin dry and preventing the heat from escaping. At least it would prevent him from freezing solid during our ride.
While my son had to wear his leathers, I sensibly chose to don my insulated Gore-Tex riding suit over a couple of layers with synthetic fabrics made to function the same way as my old training suit. Since only my moped has toasters for the hands, I sacrificed my mittens to the young bloke and grabbed my reasonably insulated gloves for myself.
With the Oxford heaters adjusted to Roast, my kleptomanias were kept hot enough in the palms to prevent the blood from coagulating in the rest of my carcass. The grips get hot enough to soften the rubber, which is a Particularly Good Thing when the temperatures are low.
In the shadow
Our, well my, original plan was to ride up into the mountains to watch red and yellow fight for attention, but we didn’t get too high before we understood that it was simply too cold. We stopped just up of Dirdal and decided to head back to the coast and look at yellow and green instead. Who wants to watch red trees anyway? Good thing it was, too; upon our return we learned there was already plenty of snow where we were heading.
Overviewing Dirdal valley
While thawing out at the small plateau that once was the main road leading down to Dirdal, overviewing the fjord below and chatting about the kid’s Volvo V8 project, we spotted an old concrete stair seemingly thrown randomly into the side of knoll sticking out from the mountain above. Probably a relic from the war when either soldiers or locals climbed the knoll in order to get a better view of the fjord mound.
The offspring on the stairs to nowhere
Having snapped a few shots for good measure, we put on helmets and gloves for the stint back towards slightly less hostile environments. My ears were already so cold I feared they would crush into a million pieces when I forced the lid over them. Surprisingly, they held up just fine. Amazing thing, human bodies.
Sunny fjord
The road was partially moist, cold and with plenty of leaves on top, so prudence was the answer for survival. From Oltedal I steered us over the ridge to Höle were we made another break down at the harbour. Much cosier! Close to 10C and sheltered from the wind, it was a place to stay. We spent the next half hour to thaw out and talk nonsense.
Höle
Eventually, we tired of gawking at the bright sky, the pair of swans, the other pair of black ducks, the speed boats cutting up the smooth sea, scarring it momentarily before the slick surface prevailed once more. Well, actually we didn’t tire of it at all, but we were expected for dinner, so no way around a speedy run back home. The road was in better condition here, ninety-nine percent dry and most of the leaves had blow off the tarmac, all the excuse I needed to up the pace to brisk for a brief spell. However, the brusque air – despite the thermometer saying it wasn’t all that cold – made it best to keep cruising speed no higher than 80kph / 50mph more often than not. Even with the roasters set to maximum intensity, I failed to keep myself anything better than a notch below tepid, especially if the speed got a bit keyed up.
Leaving where I started, with the moon showing in the middle of the day
All in all, we did about 100km / 60mi under the clearest sky we’ve had in ages, with the sort of clean and crisp air you usually only meet on mighty fine autumn days. It was a good day. Tomorrow the reports give word of rain again, although the rest of the week looks more promising. I hope they are right; I could use some more rides before winter sets in.
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