I have been lucky to have had a fair few rideable days this
winter which have coincided with the freedom to do just that. Too often, if I’m
not working, the weather is foul. This seems to be a pattern, and apparently
has to do with the effect of cities on local climate. However, this time, as I
said, I’ve had some great opportunities to get out and just go.
And I’ve noticed, as I’ve wended my way along A and B roads,
dodging mud slicks, puddles and other random obstacles (pedestrians, cars,
ballistic bicycles, etc) that winter has a distinct scent here. All the seasons
do – but in a car, you wouldn’t notice. Winter smells of quiet, and of earth.
Spring smells too much of rapeseed and makes me sneeze, summer of healthy crops
and animals, and autumn has the acrid smoke of bonfires as its signature, but
winter smells of the relatively inorganic – cold, wet soil biding quietly until
the temperature rises, accented by the occasional indoor warmth of woodsmoke –
which is a completely different and far more inviting and somehow far warmer
scent than outdoor bonfires.
In a car, you don’t feel the seasons as you do on a bike.
You don’t have to dress for them in the same way – no jeans and light jackets
for summer, no leathers for spring and autumn, no full-on Gore-tex with thermal
socks, buffs and gloves for winter. It’s only sensible to dress correctly on a
bike – both for safety in case of accidents, and also the comfort to prevent
them. Let’s face it, riding in full Gore-tex in July will result in a sensation
best described as ‘boil-in-bag,’ which doesn’t do much for your powers of
concentration or control. December and January weather make riding in nothing
but jeans an invitation to frostbite, or at least benumbed fingers and feet –
which can be a problem when you try to brake or change gear. Experienced bikers, sensible bikers know all
this, so I have no idea why there are still recommendations out there to wear
all the gear all the time.
One of the things I like about biking is the way it flows
with the seasons – summer daylight encourages long, leisurely rides exploring
new roads, and requiring at least one fuel stop. Winter runs tend to be shorter
and start later, with a pause at a pub that does coffee, fireplaces and a
decent roast lunch.
Autumn always provides a few perfectly crisp, clear days,
that beg to be ridden with open roads under blue skies and coloured leaves.
Spring has somewhat softer days – still clear, still cool, still demanding a
ride past greening woods and if you’re on the right roads, bluebells.
Maybe I’m unusual in riding for pleasure all year, and maybe
some bikers think I’m crazy, but to me, it only makes sense.
