SPRING INTO WINTER

It’s that variable time of year, when the weather vacillates between winter and spring quite arbitrarily. And it’s this time of year when the different kinds of cold are most clearly defined. 

There’s the biting cold, with the lazy wind that goes straight through all barriers rather than around, and freezes your blood in your veins. You spasm with the pain of it as it thaws again and starts to flow, and wonder why you came out.

There’s the damp, clammy cold of winter mists and fogs and freezing rain, that permeates everything and chills the bone marrow and refuses to shift, the kind that keeps you too cold to shiver. You clench your teeth in your helmet and hope your eyes don't freeze solid. 

There’s the sharp, clear cold that nips at exposed skin but stops short at thermal layering. The kind of cold that goes with bright skies and freshly coloured landscapes, as if the world is newly painted, freshly minted. 

The kind of cold that makes you gratefully curl your fingers around your coffee cup, thankful they’re not completely numb, although they tingle at the added heat. The kind of cold that's perfect for a winter-spring ride, layers deep past daffodils. 

CHARGE = DISTANCE/ TIME?

Recently, the question I've been asking is: does is matter more how far you ride or how long you ride in order to recharge your battery fully from a cold start? 
And there doesn’t seem to be an answer, just an endless debate. Currently, this is a riddle that weighs on my mind, because, thank you so very much, I have no intention of having to pay for another new battery anytime soon. 
Clearly my mid-winter arctic-weather runs were not far nor frequent enough, hence the recent back and forth with the mechanics, which has ruled out one of my favourite winter pubs. It didn’t used to be a problem – but I moved a lot closer to it than I thought I had (getting out of London takes the same inordinate amount of time regardless of distance to periphery, apparently) – so now, what used to be a long enough run for a full recharge, is clearly not.

ON A MISTY MOISTY MORNING

While the bike was being serviced, the steering lock key got a little damaged, and ceased to fit the lock. I called the workshop. They said fine, they’d replace my key, but they needed me to bring them the old one to pull the correct serial number off it to order the right new one.

Thus it was that on a misty, foggy morning, I was heading off blindly to sort this out. I do mean blindly, because the mist was fogging everything up – glasses, visor, general visibility. And unlike more usual condensation, mist is not dispelled by movement. It just swirls and resettles and causes further condensation and lack of visibility. 

The only remedy other than constantly wiping lenses/ visors is to open the visor, pull the glasses down to the end of your nose and peer over the top of them, like a stereotype of a disapproving librarian. 

Also, winter mist is surprisingly penetrative and very cold as it seeps through into your bones. Coffee is the recommended treatment here, preferably served in a cup you can lace your fingers around until you can feel them again.

UNSURE STARTS

It’s an apparently immutable law of motorcycling that your bike will always pick the least convenient moment to decide it’s not going to start. For example, when it’s due for a service and you need to ride it down to the workshop, it decides that this is a good time for the battery to die (having been drained by a very cold snap and lack of activity in bad weather). So: Call workshop, explain why bike will not be attending its appointment, and arrange for collection at a later (and thoroughly inopportune) date. 

Await call to say it’s all sorted. 

Receive call to say you need a new battery. Really? After it wouldn’t start so you had to come and fetch it? What a shock to learn the battery’s unrevivable! I mean, seriously. It’s nice that they call me to tell me the expensive bits in advance, but that particular cost was kind of already a given….

SURE STARTS

I went to lunch with a friend recently, as a random destination for a ride. She had a small child in tow, which promptly led to a photo op. The child was far more interested when I started the engine, and the bike actually moved, which just goes to show a level of taste and intelligence inspiring to see in one so young. 

It’s one of my favourite things about riding – the excitement and envy of kids I pass, their parents pointing me out, them smiling or waving until I’m out of sight. Especially the little girls who suddenly realise not everything has to be pink and safe to be pretty. That a woman can ride a 1690cc beast of a bike, and that bike can still be beautiful. 

Hang in there, kids, this could be you someday.

SATNAV SAYS SCENIC

Recently, I’ve been taking scenic routes. Sometimes because they intrigue me and I want to see where they take me, and sometimes, admittedly, because I get lost. The other week I took the A246 in Surrey and tried out the Duke of Wellington. 

It has real fires, comfy chairs, paved parking, friendly staff and good food. Not cheap food, but that doesn’t make me wince when it’s tasty enough. It also serves Smarties with coffee. This is always a plus-point. 

This week, I wandered up to Hertfordshire, via the B roads and C roads in Chalfont, the Chilterns in general, and Colne Valley. Some of them are very pretty, especially at this time of year, but they are also muddy.

I ended up, as arranged, at Two Brewers in Chipperfield to meet a friend for lunch. It’s not a bad pub, but I think they were having a slightly off-day, food and service-wise. Still, the A412 is a fun road for large chunks and coming back was far easier than going. I wasn’t intending nearly as scenic a route as I took. This is where maps are infinitely preferable to satnav, because at one point, the satnav wanted to take me on a 5 mile loop, whereas pulling out on the map made it clear all I really had to do was a U-turn, and I was 2 miles down the road from my meal. Okay, so a car probably couldn’t have done a U-turn on the available road, but I ride a bike.

At the Duke of Wellington

FOREVER AUTUMN

I like riding in autumn. It's crisp and cool. It's either clear or you get to see the last of the mist rising off the land. The leaves are a range of colours from green to red to gold to brown.  There are nice seasonal dishes, usually involving pumpkin or butternut, on the pub menus, and places are generally a little quieter, because the schools are back and all but the hardiest cyclists are tucked up safely at home for the winter. The motorbike is also less inclined to overheat. 
Plus, my bike looks really good against autumn backdrops. 

I ambled down the A24, as I often do, then looped arbitrarily onto the A246, which is a nice little road if you don't mind slowing down for villages (I don't). I shall be revisiting this road, and probably stopping short of Guildford once again, as I don't mind villages but I do mind large built up towns and cities. There are several new pubs and cafes along that road to try, and other buildings which intrigue me purely for their architecture. Next dry weekend, I think.