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This is in response to a topic in gen discussion by Dave Platt on the worst weather conditions ridden in.
Well, on a different note than my previous post to this topic, sometimes there is bad weather and an unpleasant ride and other times there are terrible riding conditions and an enjoyable ride. Yesterday was one of the most memorable rides I have had.
The weather was storm fronts and thunderheads in all directions and had been since my early morning departure. I headed north and had covered a little over three hundred miles by the time of my return and reaching a point about 100 miles north of home around 4 pm. A black storm front and gusting winds had decended from the north and followed me most of the day. By 4 pm, there was also a lightening storm front a few miles to my east and headed my way, and there were rainclouds to the west. I could clearly see the columns of rain pouring out of the westerly clouds. The impending hurricane was approaching from the south and that was the worst weather of all. The sprinkling rain and relatively clear patch of earth and sky I was riding in was soon to disappear as the fronts were converging on my position from four directions. I stopped alongside the road when less that a mile in any direction, I could see a white wall of water on a background of grey, turning to black, as day became night. The hiss of lightening audibly turned the rain to steam. It was time to resort to my rain suit. I had no sooner gotten the suit all fastened down, helmet and gloves back on and ready when it reached me. I figured the best thing to do was just stay there, brace myself and the bike up and wait for however long it took to pass by and return to a reasonable level. The rain became harder and harder and was now blowing horizontally. Lightening was so frequent and close as to be as if I were inside a flashbulb. I needed my dark face shield down if for no other reason than to not be "whiteout" blinded by the lightening. I estimated the winds a steady 40 mph with gusts probably in the 60 range.
It quickly became apparent, I would not be able to hold the bike up if conditions became worse and the effort required would tire me out in about 15 minutes. So while I was still fresh, I elected to choose option 1 of 1. ................go somewhere else. :-) :-)
The Teddy Bear started eagerly, as if to say, "its about time one of us did something useful. I was beginning to wonder about you." The road was empty of traffic and the bear was sure footed and content to sing quietly, never missing a note.
As we started down the road, low speed control was haphazard with the high crosswinds, low visibility and necessary low acceleration. As speed increased, the water flowed off the face shield and visibility returned.
Stability increased with speed also and the wind became easier to handle.
A half mile ahead, a huge lightening bolt reached from infinity and appeared to touch the road, its blue white tunnel completely spanning both lanes. With the continuous lightening, the landscape lost all color, taking on the appearance of a black and white photograph negative.
The road became white and the water looked like mercury with horizontal rain appearing as elongated mercury bullets. Trees appeared and disappeared with each lightening flash as did the road. On the white asphalt, the super shiny mercury mirrors were the ruts and holes in the road that were filled with deep water and reflected the lightening. The shiny dark grey patches were the places were oil was saturated into the asphalt and the light grey white areas were the surfaces with thin water and no holes or ruts. The Teddy Bear glided down the roadway, picking the safe spots to cross, staying out of the deep water and off the oily patches. Side to side, more like a cross between flying a plane and sailing a Hobie Cat than moving as a motorcycle. Visually, at 70 mph (the speed needed to handle the conditions) it was like threading a time tunnel or a worm hole at warp speed in a world of sliver and white where everything was perceived as a streak. There wasnt any rolling motion noticable. The bike flowed to whatever I thought as I let it run with a light grip, allowing it to compensate for the wind on its own. I spent an hour intently threading the needle that was the road, focusing ahead and following a river of silver shadows in a white world of blowing mercury with lightening as my headlight.
If I had it to do again, I would.
Earl
Well, on a different note than my previous post to this topic, sometimes there is bad weather and an unpleasant ride and other times there are terrible riding conditions and an enjoyable ride. Yesterday was one of the most memorable rides I have had.
The weather was storm fronts and thunderheads in all directions and had been since my early morning departure. I headed north and had covered a little over three hundred miles by the time of my return and reaching a point about 100 miles north of home around 4 pm. A black storm front and gusting winds had decended from the north and followed me most of the day. By 4 pm, there was also a lightening storm front a few miles to my east and headed my way, and there were rainclouds to the west. I could clearly see the columns of rain pouring out of the westerly clouds. The impending hurricane was approaching from the south and that was the worst weather of all. The sprinkling rain and relatively clear patch of earth and sky I was riding in was soon to disappear as the fronts were converging on my position from four directions. I stopped alongside the road when less that a mile in any direction, I could see a white wall of water on a background of grey, turning to black, as day became night. The hiss of lightening audibly turned the rain to steam. It was time to resort to my rain suit. I had no sooner gotten the suit all fastened down, helmet and gloves back on and ready when it reached me. I figured the best thing to do was just stay there, brace myself and the bike up and wait for however long it took to pass by and return to a reasonable level. The rain became harder and harder and was now blowing horizontally. Lightening was so frequent and close as to be as if I were inside a flashbulb. I needed my dark face shield down if for no other reason than to not be "whiteout" blinded by the lightening. I estimated the winds a steady 40 mph with gusts probably in the 60 range.
It quickly became apparent, I would not be able to hold the bike up if conditions became worse and the effort required would tire me out in about 15 minutes. So while I was still fresh, I elected to choose option 1 of 1. ................go somewhere else. :-) :-)
The Teddy Bear started eagerly, as if to say, "its about time one of us did something useful. I was beginning to wonder about you." The road was empty of traffic and the bear was sure footed and content to sing quietly, never missing a note.
As we started down the road, low speed control was haphazard with the high crosswinds, low visibility and necessary low acceleration. As speed increased, the water flowed off the face shield and visibility returned.
Stability increased with speed also and the wind became easier to handle.
A half mile ahead, a huge lightening bolt reached from infinity and appeared to touch the road, its blue white tunnel completely spanning both lanes. With the continuous lightening, the landscape lost all color, taking on the appearance of a black and white photograph negative.
The road became white and the water looked like mercury with horizontal rain appearing as elongated mercury bullets. Trees appeared and disappeared with each lightening flash as did the road. On the white asphalt, the super shiny mercury mirrors were the ruts and holes in the road that were filled with deep water and reflected the lightening. The shiny dark grey patches were the places were oil was saturated into the asphalt and the light grey white areas were the surfaces with thin water and no holes or ruts. The Teddy Bear glided down the roadway, picking the safe spots to cross, staying out of the deep water and off the oily patches. Side to side, more like a cross between flying a plane and sailing a Hobie Cat than moving as a motorcycle. Visually, at 70 mph (the speed needed to handle the conditions) it was like threading a time tunnel or a worm hole at warp speed in a world of sliver and white where everything was perceived as a streak. There wasnt any rolling motion noticable. The bike flowed to whatever I thought as I let it run with a light grip, allowing it to compensate for the wind on its own. I spent an hour intently threading the needle that was the road, focusing ahead and following a river of silver shadows in a white world of blowing mercury with lightening as my headlight.
If I had it to do again, I would.
Earl
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