About two weeks ago, it looked like winter was finally arriving. I awoke in the morning to a good 15 inches of snow on the ground and had to take the bus to lab. The snow started melting almost immediately and was only a wet memory two short days later. Since then, it has rained almost every day. The mountains had probably got a good amount of powder, but that was hard to tell from the valley. The clouds hang so low that the mountains were invisible for more than ten days.
This weekend brought change. Sunday was the second dry day in a row and for me the last day of the year going on a ride. It was pretty cold, but I was bundled up in five layers and not afraid of the frost. I really needed to move, especially since skiing season still hasn't started yet, despite all the precipitation.
So I grabbed my Cannondale and rode along the Isère to warm up. After about 15 miles I ventured into the Vercors. Since it's always arctic up there, I didn't plan on riding all the way to the top. I just wanted to give my legs a last little workout and see where the snow started. In the end I climbed quite high and was surrounded by nothing but white for a good while. Eventually, my frozen fingers made me turn around. They warmed up on the descent by some bizarre biological process all the while the wind sucked all heat from the rest of my body.
It ended up being a good two-and-a-half-hour ride without much pain or undue suffering. Still, I was amazed to see all the other riders out there. In summer I was wondering why so few are out on their bikes. Now it seems that about the same number (and probably the same people) ride in winter too. You might just have to be hard core to enjoy cycling around Grenoble where every other climb is a Cottonwood Canyon. I'm in good company.
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