What do we do when it rains? We are often asked that question. And the answer is, usually, "We ride," and "We get wet." Our gortex jackets have never been very good at keeping us dry.
If you have been reading this blog faithfully, then this post will be a review. If not, if you are interested in learning more about why you should ride in the rain, then I will refer you to our 2017 tour through New England and Quebec, when it rained most days. It was a fabulous trip.
This year, in an effort to save ounces whenever we could and, most importantly, to keep dry, I researched rain gear. Actually, I relied in large part on my daughter's research. She completed a through hike of the Pacific Crest Trail last year and requested some expensive rain gear for Christmas. (She didn't get it.)
Kylee's choice was a jacket and pants from Montbell, a Japanese company. I did my own research, looking at rain gear specialized for bicycling as well as hiking gear. The Montbell rain jacket and pants were indeed expensive. In the end, their light weight won out. For both of us the cost came to close to $700. Yikes! That turned out to be our biggest gear expense.
After six days of beautiful, sunny weather, it finally looked like we would have a chance to try out our new rain gear.
Thursday, June 13, 2019
It didn't start raining right away. But you can't argue with a forecast of 100% chance of rain and 3/4 to 1 inch of wet. We aimed for an early start, but we're still not too successful at that, so we only got going after eight o'clock. Just as we got on our bikes I felt a few drops. Fortunately it stayed that way as we rode the bike path out of Northampton, over lots of frost heaves, but still a pleasant enough ride, through a green tunnel, no traffic to contend with. Then after about six miles the bike path ended on Route 9 in Haydenville and the rain began to get serious. We stopped at a Dunkin Donuts to use the restroom, cover our panniers and put on our new expensive rain jackets.
The long climb started several miles later outside Williamsburg, a slow steady climb. I clicked into my granniest gear, then backed off one click, then another, then back to granny, slow and steady, just like the rain. I noticed the water beading up on the sleeves of my jacket, a good sign.
Then, as I approached the top of the climb, the rain took a turn for the worse. I could feel water dripping down the back of my neck. I only had the rain jacket on, no sweater or rain pants and I was getting cold. But the water was still beading up on my new jacket, so I was hopeful that it was doing its job.
There are a lot of towns between Northampton and Pittsfield. I can count ten on the map, three written in bold letters. But after Williamsburg there was nothing. We only knew we were in a town because there was maybe a sign that welcomed us, or a church, or a town hall, but sometimes we'd never see anything remotely resembling a town.
When the rain started coming down hard we were passing through Goshen which, in spite of having its name written in bold on the state highway map, only had a church, town hall, general store, and a farm stand, which was closed. No place that would serve as a place to dry off and wait for the rain to stop. We stopped to turn on our front and rear flashing lights.
We kept going and I thought, "This isn't fun anymore," even as we enjoyed a long stretch of downhill. Then, at the top of another hill, Rob caught up to me and said, "Let's find a place to get out of the rain."
I pictured us standing under some trees or a bridge, cold and wet, waiting for the rain to stop and said, "No," and started pedaling.
Then, around the next bend, I saw a small blue building that looked like it could be a house but it had a parking lot and signs in front of it. But we'd been passing a lot of shuttered and abandoned businesses so I wasn't hopeful. As I was riding past I saw signs right next to the highway. "Breakfast," said one. "Lunch," the next. And "Dinner Thurs. - Sun.", the last. Thinking that meant the restaurant was only open Thursday through Sunday I did a quick calculation in my head. "It's Thursday!" And I pulled into the parking lot. It looked dark inside, but in the window I saw "OPEN" lit up.
Inside, this little restaurant was as basic a small-town restaurant as you would expect. Metal chairs covered in plastic, formica tables. It was our port in the storm. For the locals who trickled in it was a regular stop in their weekly routines. The waitress, a young woman, knew many of them. "You didn't come in for your pie last week," she said to one older couple who came in for lunch. She told them about her little girl learning to walk and banging her nose of the coffee table.
As soon as we arrived I asked for a cup of hot tea. Rob, too.
When I took off my rain jacket, I was indeed dry underneath. Thank you, Kylee, for your research. This is going to work. My shorts were wet because I hadn't had the sense to put on my rain pants. I knew we'd be hanging out for a while so I changed into dry tights and socks, put on a sweater, neck buff, and hat. It took me a while to warm up.
Then I ordered the bacon cheeseburger special with lettuce and tomato, medium rare. Rob had a tuna melt. We asked for a large order of sweet potato fries to share. When our food arrived, I bit into my cheeseburger and the juice dripped out onto a puddle on my plate, the burger cooked to medium rareness perfection. The sweet potatoes were hot, salty, and crisp.
I kept looking outside at a big puddle in the parking lot, gauging the amount of rain coming down, hoping that if it didn't stop then at least it would let up. It wasn't so busy that anyone minded us camping out there until the rain let up. But they didn't have wifi.
Finally, after drinking a second cup of tea, discussing with Rob whether or not we should share a piece of homemade peach pie with ice cream and deciding against it, and paying the bill, I looked outside again. The water in my puddle looked quiet.
"I think the rain has stopped."
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