The Precipitation Negotiations

04.29.2015 | 7:55 am

A “Time’s Almost Up” Note from Fatty: You’re almost out of time. This Thursday is the last day of the “Buy Gear, Make a Donation, Win the Ultimate Dream Bike and Vacation” contest. 

It’s not too late. Buy some Fat Cyclist gear, or make a donation to WBR, and you could well be the one who wins any Specialized S-Works bike you want, outfitted with top-of-the-line ENVE and SRAM components. And you’ll be making a significant, immediate impact in someone’s life.

We are currently just over $18,000 raised with this incredible bike / vacation combo. I would love to hit $20,000.

RAWROD: Ride Around White Rim in One Day. It’s the event that actually inspired me to start this blog (see part 3 of my RAWROD ’05 writeup [also worth checking out: part 1 and part 2]), almost exactly ten years ago. (So yes, I’ve been doing multi-part ride reports literally from the very beginning of this blog.)

And the 2015 edition of this annual group ride was last weekend. 

But it was a year embroiled in controversy, uncertainty, intense debate, and — eventually — a resolution that is hotly contested, to this day.

I will explain.

Very, Very Important

My dad will be turning 80 this year. Or actually, he has already turned 80 this year, but we’re pretending like he hasn’t, because while all his kids are getting together in Grand Junction, CO to celebrate his birthday, we’re doing it kind of late.

Because of me. 

Or more to the point, because I couldn’t let this family shindig get in the way of RAWROD. It’s that important. So I asked my family to rearrange their schedules, moving this birthday party to a couple of weeks later.

Including, I should mention, my sister who lives in Germany.

Secret, Interrupted

I have noticed that the likelihood of at least the threat of bad weather is exactly proportionate to the importance of whatever it is you’re looking forward to.

Which, generally speaking, are bike rides.

Fortunately, I’m very good at using The Secret, so I’m generally pretty good at staving off bad weather.

I do this, mostly, by just not thinking about weather very much. For example, did you know I’ll be going to California for three days of racing this weekend, with Levi Leipheimer as my actual teammate?

It’s true. I am.

But I haven’t checked the weather even once, instead confidently believing that the weather will be fine. I imagine myself on a bike, in a race, comfortable and dry, the tailwind blowing through my hair. Or where the hair would be, had I hair.

But here’s the problem for : I am not the only one going to Moab for RAWROD. My friend Dug is going, too.

And Dug…well, Dug is interested in weather. And by “interested,” I of course mean “concerned.”

And by “concerned,” I mean “dangerously obsessed.”

At first, his text messages are benign, asking how much water and food I plan to carry, whether I ran out last year, how it’s possible that I can be so remarkably handsome. Normal stuff.

And then, this: 

What does the forecast need to get to for you to not go?

The answer of course being, “I hadn’t even considered bad weather as a possibility.

But I was now. 

Dug’s text messages began to be increasingly informative. And ominous:

right now it says 10 – 20 % chance of some rain in moab. you’ve ridden white rim in iffy conditions, just wondering what you thought

and

chance of rain in moab saturday goes up about 10% a day

and finally:

SHOWERS INCREASE FRIDAY THROUGH SUNDAY ACROSS EASTERN UTAH ANDWESTERN COLORADO A PROLONGED PERIOD OF WET WEATHER TO THE REGION WILL BEGIN ON FRIDAY. THE FIRST WEATHER DISTURBANCE WAS OVER SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA ON THURSDAY AND WILL SLOWLY TRACK THROUGH THE DESERT SOUTHWEST THROUGH FRIDAY. THIS SYSTEM WILL BRING INCREASING SHOWERS ON FRIDAY. THEN A STRONGER AREA OF LOW PRESSURE WILL DIG IN FROM THE NORTHWEST ON SATURDAY AND PASS ON SUNDAY. THE ASSOCIATED COLD FRONT WILL MOVE THROUGH THE REGION SATURDAY NIGHT INTO SUNDAY BRINGING WIDESPREAD SHOWERS SCATTERED THUNDERSTORMS AND COOLER TEMPERATURES. SNOW ACCUMULATIONS ARE EXPECTED IN THE HIGHER TERRAIN WITH THE SAN JUAN MOUNTAINS FAVORED TO RECEIVE SIGNIFICANT ACCUMULATIONS. EARLY INDICATIONS SHOW 6 INCHES OF SNOW WITH LOCALLY HIGHER AMOUNTS POSSIBLE. VALLEY RAIN AND MOUNTAIN SNOW SHOWERS ARE EXPECTED TO CONTINUE INTO MONDAY MORNING. THERE IS STILL MUCH UNCERTAINTY ON THE TRACK OF THE UPPER LOW WHERE THE HEAVIEST SHOWERS WILL OCCUR AND SNOW LEVELS AND ACCUMULATIONS. STAY TUNED TO THE LATEST INFORMATION AND FORECASTS ON THIS DEVELOPING STORM.

Yes, he really sent me that. As a text message. To which I finally replied, “You are making it really hard for me to use The Secret.”

He answered:

“Is Ahab [a newish and really terrific trail off Amasa Back] rideable in the wet?

At which point, I had no choice but to block him.

Commencing Conversations

The Hammer and I planned to stay in Green River Friday evening (Moab hotels are just too expensive, and we don’t like camping), then drive out to the White Rim trailhead early Saturday.

It began raining just as we left home. Within twenty minutes, however, we had left the rain behind us.

But only literally.

Figuratively, the rain was still very much with us. Moreso than ever, in fact.

“I don’t want to ride all day in the rain,” The Hammer said, reasonably.

“Me either,” I replied, savvily. 

“So is it going to rain on us?”

“I think it could,” I said. (The only way I could have made that statement more wishy-washy is if I had thrown the word “probably” in there somewhere.)

“Why don’t you ask Dug about the weather?” The Hammer asked. “See whether he’s going to ride.”

I checked. Dug was already 80% of the way to Moab. Which is a much stronger statement than anything he could have actually said.

But we still both had concerns. 

We talked on the way to Moab, trying to decide what the threshold was for abandoning the ride.

Would it be if clouds were threatening? (But clouds can clear, and had done so before!)

Would it be if it were raining? (But rain can dissipate and had done so before!)

How about if it were really bad wind? (Ditto!)

In the end, we decided to…not decide until the next day.

The Next Day

We woke to rain. A vigorous, “no-plans-to-quit-just-getting-started” kind of rain. 

We loaded our bikes and gear, undeterred. The rain might stop as we got closer to Moab.

It did not stop.

“Are we in for this ride, no matter what?” The Hammer asked. 

It was a good question. No, make that an excellent question, thanks to the fact that it was a tricky question. In fact, it may well have been a trick question, designed to lure me into making a unilateral decision that applied to both of us. 

Thanks to many years of being a man in a committed relationship, I knew exactly how to answer.

“I don’t know. What do you think?” 

The Hammer was prepared for this deflection.

“I’m good either way.” But we both knew this wasn’t true. Any more than it was true when I said that “I don’t know.” Of course I knew what I wanted to do. This is due to the fact that, like many people, I am capable of reading my own mind.

And so, for the next half hour, as we drove toward Mineral Basin Road, we continued our precipitation negotiations, accompanied by the soundtrack of rain.

A rain which, I feel compelled to mention — did nothing whatsoever to help make the decision obvious. Instead, it carefully straddled the line between drizzle and downpour. Diminishing this moment, gathering force the next.

Stupid rain.

Anyway, the conversation went like this:

Me: I don’t want to spend ten hours in the rain.

The Hammer: I don’t either.

Me: But the weather forecast shows the rain either stopping or slowing for at least four hours. The rain should stop just about when the ride should begin.

The Hammer: So we could have a nice first half of a day of riding. But then the rain could pick up, leaving us right about at the halfway point of the ride in a downpour that doesn’t let up for the rest of the day.

Me: And if that happens, it’s not like we can cower in a convenience store until the storm passes. Out on the White Rim, there’s literally nowhere for us to hide.

The Hammer: It’s not like we’ve never done this ride before, either. 

Me: But we do look forward to it every year. And we always have fun. And we did drive out here for about four hours.

The Hammer: So what are we going to do?

Me: Well, if we go ahead and do the ride, we might really regret it. And if we bail, we will almost for sure really regret it, because then we won’t know how bad it might have been if we had gone.

The Hammer: You decide what we’re going to do then.

Me: I have decided…to be happy with whatever you think is best.

Decision Made

And thus the dance continued, until we reached Mineral Basin Road.  When dry, this ten-or-so-mile road is wide, smooth, and about as fast as pavement.

It was not dry. No, not dry at all. The baked red clay had de-baked, turning into a clumping sandstone mucilage. 

By the time we got to where the trailhead — and all our friends — were, the truck had gone sideways twice, I had kept the windshield wipers on nonstop, and we had made a decision. 

There was no way we were going to do White Rim. If Mineral Basin Road was precarious, how would Shafer be? How would Dead Horse be?

We pulled into the parking lot to go see everyone, but it was strictly a courtesy call.

Decision Really Made

Before we had a chance to step outside, I saw Dug, walking up to the truck. He was not dressed for cycling.

But he was laughing.

“Have you seen what your bike looks like?” He asked.

As a matter of fact, I had not. So I stepped out of the truck, nearly slid out onto my butt, and then walked around to the back of the truck, where my bike was attached to the receiver-mounted rack:

And this:

Truthfully, these pictures (which I didn’t think to take until much later, at a gas station, on the way home), don’t show the depth of crud that had been sprayed onto and into my bike. 

We stayed a while and talked, then dispersed. Some of us talked about going down to Moab and riding Amasa Back, or maybe the Slickrock trail. 

The Hammer and I were in. Any ride is better than no ride. I’d power wash my bike as well as I could (The Hammer’s was still relatively clean, having made the trip in the truck bed).

But when The Hammer and I got back on Mineral Basin road, it had become even more slippery and gunky than it had earlier been. If that’s even possible.

And so the ride / no ride negotiations resumed. 

“I don’t want to ride in this,” I said, now emboldened, the “never say no to a ride” taboo now gone. “This is going to be a terrible day to ride. Let’s go home.”

I was newly confident. Assertive. Outspoken even.

“OK,” said The Hammer, clearly respecting my confident point of view.

Which, as it turns out, was dead wrong, as I would find out soon enough, when the Instagram photos of the day came in. Like this one:

And this one:

I have learned my lesson: Waffle and deflect as much as necessary, because you do not want to be the guy who makes the “no go” call on what will eventually turn out to be a demonstrably awesome day.