Cold, cold, cold
Our glorious riding weather of November came to a screeching halt with the onset of severe cold spells in December. This is southeast Florida, land of the warm, warm, warm weather, yet in mid-December we had a few spells of below freezing cold. On a few memorable days the temperatures hit twenty-eight degrees.
Chelsea and I rode in south Louisiana in very cold weather throughout the winter of 2008-2009, so it wasn’t too much of a shock, but wow…twenty-eight degrees is really cold! We saw only one other cyclist (one!) on our entire twenty-five mile ride. We gave ourselves pats on the back for being so tough.
The air temps were so cold that the ocean looked like a huge snow bank, a result of the steam from the warmer water hitting the cold air. Check out our photo albums…it’s pretty amazing to see the fuzz on the water. The clouds in the background looked like snowcapped mountains. We were bundled to the teeth, literally.
The months of cold weather gave us a great chance to try out variations of cold weather clothing. We found that less is better; we just need very specific items on the “less”. We discarded some options and gradually defined exactly what we need to add to our trip clothing (meaning we had some miserable riding days till we got it right).
One definite favorite is our North Face Impulse Hoodie we got in Seattle in fall of 2007. Besides being windproof in all the right spots and warm and snuggly, the low-profile hood has a section that zips up over the mouth and nose, keeping the bitter cold air away from the lungs. Best of all, it’s made of some kind of very breathable fabric, so we don’t feel like we’re inhaling our own breath again. It definitely makes the short list for the trip.
Fun sights
We continue to see amazing sights on our rides. One morning, in the wee hours in the midst of the cold freeze, we saw a house being moved. Teams of workers were adjusting cable, electric, and phone lines, while others checked for clearances. We stood watching for a while, chatting with one of the crew supervisors, listening to his wild stories of moving houses.
Another weekend morning we came cruising up Atlantic Ave only to realize it had been taken over by row after row of white-covered huts, display booths for a major art festival. We had to detour to finish our ride, but the next day we came through on our way back and treated ourselves to funnel cake from one of the concessions. We’d discovered funnel cake at the festivals in Louisiana and loved it. Eating the funnel cake, leaning against our bikes that beautiful sunny Sunday morning, made us feel like a bit of Louisiana was with us again.
Near Easter we happened to be in downtown Delray – Chelsea had gotten a Starbucks gift card from her uncle and was treating me to a coffee after our ride. We hung out long enough to spot some excitement downtown – the annual Easter dog parade. It was short and sweet; some of the dogs were hilarious and with some we didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
We gave up our outdoor table at Starbucks to a very friendly woman who’d been waiting quietly for an empty table and as usual for us, we got to chatting with her. She lives in New England and has a home down here where she spends several weeks a year. She asked us many questions about our trip; we had had fun telling some of our stories.
She asked, as virtually everyone does, if we were afraid to go into Mexico. We get so tired of hearing about how scary Mexico is, but we responded as we usually do, explaining our position. Much to our surprise, she agreed completely with us. She also has a place in Mexico, in one of the supposedly scariest areas. She said she’s been going there for over twenty years, in fact, she had returned from several weeks there only the prior month. She has never once had any difficulties, nor have any of her neighbors.
After talking quite awhile, she opened her wallet, pulled out a ten dollar bill, handed it to us and said, “Have coffee as my treat, one of these days”. We were amazed and very touched. We promised her we would, and that we would write her about it, taking photos too. We promised it would be in some exotic location. I came home and tucked the ten dollar bill in our foreign currency wallet, ready to have it on hand for exactly the right moment.