Richard Treks: BALM: Week 4 Day 1

Today was a deceiving, pretty day. The sky was crystal clear, like a shade of Lake Michigan, which varies from crystal blue to green to brown, all within a a small space. With sunshine, you'd think it would be warm, a perfect day for a bike ride, a perfect day for 60 miles of coffee stops, bucolic images, and sweeping vistas. The day in fact was all of that.

It was also cold. This Lake Michigan weather is fickle. It can be sunny and cold, it can be overcast and rainy, it can be windy and rainy, it can be sunny and cold and windy. Today was sunny and cold and windy.

On past tours I have returned home with a biker's tan. Dark brown from the end of my shirt sleeves to the top of my gloves, the tan ending in a fine line at my wrist. One tour I biked without gloves, and my wrists and hands cooked and blistered, just like my ears always do. Probably I'm a fine candidate for skin cancer. On past tours my legs have been similarly tanned: from the bottom of my padded biking shorts to the tops of my biking socks. I'm vain. I'm concerned about how I look. So, on past tours, toward the end, perhaps the last two days, I've worn a tank top and gone without socks to even the tan.

This BALM ride has been different. I do feel as if my face is tanned. My nose and ears feel raw and charred and flakey. My nose and ears are body parts that stay exposed regardless of the weather. Perhaps my legs--from the bottom of my padded shorts to the top of my biking socks--are tanned, too. But my arms? They've been covered for the most of this tour. It's been that cool or cold, and I've worn my cold weather clothes and gear to keep my core warm.

I've been riding around the lake and its bays for 22 days. I recall just one day of a good tailwind. The rest have been days of headwind. Sometimes a headwind isn't too bad. It could be hot and the wind would be like a fan, maybe a hot breeze, but any breeze cools the sweat and cools you off. But when it's cold and windy there's this phenomenon called wind chill. And riding into a sunny blue wind chill is sort of a contradiction. Perhaps not. I recall winter days in Buffalo, New York, when days were a beautiful icy blue, with sub zero wind chills.

On days like this I try not to throw a micro fit. I keep my head down, perhaps now and then say something nasty to the wind, call it a nasty name, yet I keep my head down and keep on pedaling. 'Anders will get me to the set destination by the end of the day. I'll set up camp, eat a hot freeze dried dinner, drink a hot cup of coffee. I'll crawl into my tent, settle into my sleeping bag, and, because I'm tired and warm, sleep soundly.

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