West Chester in the Wind

West Chester, PA

14 November 2015

Today's ride was all about entering another one of Tom's rides into the annals of stupidity.  It's not the route that was stupid; the route was fine. It was me and the weather that made the ride stupid.

I'm in West Chester, PA, as I write this. Jack is at a conference here.  He'd planned to take public transit from home on Friday and return the same way on Sunday.  But when he looked into the logistics, he found that the trip would take him half a day, culminating with a 2-mile walk down a state highway without a sidewalk. If I were to drive him, I could get him there in under an hour and a half.  He warned me that I'd have to amuse myself on Saturday.

"Okay," I said.  "I'll bring a bike."  

I searched ridewithgps for routes starting in West Chester and found a few from the local bike club (whose web presence is arguably as bad as ours). I copied out a few of them by hand (because I still don't own a GPS), then surfed over to Tom's Best Bike Rides Philadelphia hoping that I'd find something I could trust. 

Then I checked the weather.  Hoo-boy.  30 mph wind gusts on top of a steady 17 mph breeze out of the northwest.  Maybe not.

Or maybe.  Things could change. It was only Tuesday.  I emailed Tom, and after a few exchanges, I put together two of his routes for a 40-mile loop, writing in the first 20 mile loop as a bailout just in case.

By Friday the forecast hadn't changed.  I packed Miss Piggy II anyway. Tom had assured me I wouldn't need climbing gears, but I figured that, with the wind and the likelihood that I'll have been up late the night before and will have eaten something less than optimal for dinner and breakfast, I'd need all the help I could get.

I also loaded a bag with a computer, books, and beads, should I decide to hole up in the hotel instead.

We arrived in West Chester in the late afternoon on Friday.  Immediately we ran into two of Jack's favorite people, whom I consider my friends within the context of Jack and conferences (we rarely seem to talk otherwise).  Then we ran into a couple more whom I'd met during our short trip to Ghent two years ago. After that, Jack and I, with his two favorite people, went to the 5:00 reception long enough to have a snack and smuggle four wine glasses back to their room.  There, we had drinks (I even had half a glass; it was rose champagne; Jack is slowly teaching me). 

Dinner was the four of us at a noisy Italian restaurant in town.  I was already half asleep before the meal started.  I have trouble staying awake on days I don't drink coffee.  We then went back to the hotel and hung out in our friends' room.

We had something of a funk-off.  Jack and I won, I think, because we had more real funk on our iPhones than our friend did. We won with Stevie Wonder ("I Wish"), Parliament ("Flashlight"), James Brown ("Get on the Good Foot"), and a few selections from the Meters. This segued into Prince (if you've never seen it, watch him solo at the end of "While My Guitar Gently Weeps" with Tom Petty, Steve Winwood, and Jeff Lynne at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 2004). And we had to show them the Tom Waits-Cookie Monster mashup of "God's Away on Business." )You'll never hear Tom Waits the same way again.)

It was nearly 1:00 a.m. when I climbed into bed.

After a crappy breakfast (lukewarm oatmeal in the dining room, then cottage cheese and coffee in the room while Jack showered), I contemplated the bike ride. There was much silent waffling.  I knew, though, that once the caffeine hit and as soon as I put on my cycling clothes, I'd commit to at least the short route. 

I drove Jack to the conference with minutes to spare before the 10:30 session. From a parking lot at West Chester University, I started the ride.

With such a short route, lots of time to kill, and no Slugs waiting for me, I stopped frequently for pictures:

The roads were on the narrow side, with not much shoulder. Drivers were patient, the same way they were in Virginia.  One even put his flashers on behind me as I plodded up a hill.  I waved him past as soon as there was room.

On Wylie Road, a tree was resting on power lines.  No matter. I could fit underneath.

On Creek Road, I fell in behind another cyclist (Orbea, white shorts). He seemed to be slowing down to let me catch up, so I did.  "I'm from New Jersey," I said.  "I'm not used to cars being this polite."  He said he just got back from seven years in Australia.

At the next stop sign, I said, "I think I'm hanging a right here."

I was wrong, as I figured out a mile or two into traffic on Street Road. I doubled back. The turn I'd wanted was about a tenth of a mile further along. The turn took me past Brandywine Creek:

Cabooses!  (Cabese?)

By now, even I was getting annoyed at my frequent picture stops.

 So I didn't take any more after this one:

Uphill + headwind = steeper hill. I was happy that I'd brought my climbing bike. 

I was protected from the wind much of the time by tall trees, although when I hit open road it was like hitting a wall. One crosswind gust nearly sent me sideways. I'm not used to a light bike in big winds. Kermit is the one for open fields in December.  The prettiest roads were the narrowest and steepest ones. Maybe we should come back here next season.

When I got close to West Chester again, I made a wrong turn and saw more of the town than I'd bargained for. For the third or fourth time, I pulled out my phone to figure out where I was. For the third or fourth time, I found myself wondering if I shouldn't get myself a GPS already.  Eventually, after asking several pedestrians, I found the university again.

I got back to the car with just under 25 miles, which was enough. In the hotel room, I ate the rest of last night's leftovers and set about blogging.  Soon I'll head back to the campus, where Jack has implored me to join him for a reception and demonstration of stage combat.  The conference ends tonight, so I don't expect to get another ride in before we head home tomorrow morning.