COLD ride: Florida to NH

A few days ago, I told you about the first half of a double Ironbutt ride I did last week: New Hampshire to Florida and back; and 1500 miles (2400km) each way. The ride down (click) took 32 hours, straight through.

The ride back took longer and was a lot harder. Here's the ride report for that second half of the ride.

(I'm trying to embed larger photos this time. If Blogger chokes, you can see a properly-formatted version, free, here: http://www.advrider.com/forums/showthread.php?p=8206754#post8206754)

[Late update: Although the post looked fine in preview mode and had been properly added via the Blogger "add photo" interface, Blogger did mess up the photos by hacking off the right sides, as I'd feared. You can click on the photos below to see the non-cropped versions, or use the link above to see a better-formatted version.]

This photo (below) should strike terror into the hearts of cold weather riders everywhere:

It's the remains of a Gerbing heated vest plug that's been dragged along asphalt at high speed for an unknown number of miles.





I took the photos after I got home; I carry a pretty good emergency kit on long rides, but I never thought to include spare Gerbing connectors.

I discovered the damaged plug when I went to turn on the heated vest in the midst of a long through-the-night drive when the wind chill on the moving motorcycle dipped to about 0F (-17C). Needless to say, the vest didn't work.

In all, I had about 12 hours of bone-chilling cold during the ride. I've been out for shorter rides in much colder weather, but I never rode that cold for that long as last week.

But let's start back in the Florida panhandle, east of Pensacola, on a cool but sunny morning last week. I departed in good weather and light traffic, planning on riding all day, through the night, and to arrive home in late morning of the next day; 1500 miles in another 32-34 hours or so.




I10 across the Florida is a mindlessly easy ride with almost zero scenery. It is good, however, for burning miles, and that's what this ride was about: Just getting home quickly.





The morning wore on, the miles rolled away, the sun got warmer. It was a nice ride, albeit very boring. I listened to the BBC World Service on my XM radio to keep my brain cells alive.



I'd come south via the overland route; through the west side of the Carolinas, western Georgia, and down through Alabama. For the ride home, I wanted a more coastal route, for at least a little variety.





Eventually, I started seeing some coastal features, which helped alleviate the superslab boredom.








You can see from the lighting in the next photo that the afternoon was well evolved by the time I reached South Carolina. The sun had arced across the sky and was headed down.

Note the clear sky, too: It presaged a dry, moonlit night ride to come.



Soon, dusk settled in.

This is one of the parts of a ride that I enjoy the most; this is the moment when a more or less normal day ride turns into a serious long-distance effort. Night riding is a whole different thing from day riding, requiring a much higher level of alertness while your body's natural rhythms want to push you to lower alertness. It's a challenge in itself, and more so when starting a night ride after already covering a lot of miles in the day.

I always feel my adrenalin kick in just a bit at dusk. I switch to night riding glasses, sit a little straighter, get my feet properly centered on the pegs, and get my head fully in the game so I can try to use heightened awareness to help offset the diminishing light.




The temperatures started to fall, and I pulled over to layer up. I didn't try to plug in the vest yet--- it wasn't that cold yet. I just put on the unplugged vest and added a sweatshirt over it, and kept riding.

The clear sky allowed for radiational cooling and the temperatures dropped fast. Around 10PM, I stopped for gas and went to plug in my vest. Temperatures were then about 40F (5C) and falling fast. With the wind chill from the bike's forward motion, the effective temperature was about 25F (-4C), and still on the way down. The local radio stations were calling out frost warnings with low temperatures expected around freezing. Add in a 75mph forward speed, and I'd have wind chills overnight in the vicinity of 0F (-17C). Definitely chilly.

That was when I saw the damaged plug. There wasn't enough plug left to make contact when I inserted it in its socket.

*&^$%!

Remember, this had been a ride to Florida, so I wasn't carrying my full Winter gear yet.

Brrr.

I did have some cold weather gear--- I always travel with at least some. I buttoned up as best I could to keep cold air out. I put on a pair of "Wristies" (fleece wrist gauntlets) to totally seal my sleeve cuffs, and a "Dickie" style fleece neck gauntlet. (I always carry those anyway.)

I rode onward, hunched below the windscreen to stay out of the fastest air.

On towards midnight, I was pretty thoroughly chilled and the air temps where a few degrees above freezing, and still going down. I stopped for coffee and also dug out a long sleeved shirt. At that point, I had on a wicking undershirt, a dead electrical vest, a long-sleeved shirt, a sweatshirt and my riding jacket: I was at max bulk for clothing, and couldn't add more layers without becoming unable to zip the jacket shut. This was as good as it was going to get.

I had overpants and bluejeans on my legs. I had no extra clothing to add there.

I had thick wicking socks on my feet, in heavy boots; my toes were OK.

But basically, I was maxed out on wearable clothing, and it was only midnight with 6-8 hours of colder-still riding to come.

I started a slow internal debate about finding a motel for the night. But for now I was only uncomfortable; not in danger. I pressed onward.

It just wasn't much fun riding. The night passed slowly. I was very cold, but hadn't reached the point of shivering. (Shivering is sign of incipient hypothermia, and that you need to get warm *now*.) It was just very, very uncomfortable.

When the cold would really get to me, I'd stop for coffee and gas and use the hot-air dryers in the mens room to blow air up my sleeves, and to raise the temperature of my clothing itself.

The cold did help keep me awake for most of the night, but fatigue caught up with me around 4AM somewhere on a long stretch of forested highway. There were no motels in the area, and I didn't feel much like extending the ride in a hunt off the highway for one. I also was loathe to pay for a "night" in a motel when it would really just be a couple hours. So, I pulled into a rest area for a nap.

I'd done this many times before, including on the ride down to Florida; but not with temperatures this cold.

In roadside "Ironbutt Motel" naps, I usually either lie on a picnic bench or just lean back onto the pillion cushion. This time, I raided my emergency bag for a "space blanket" (a reflective blanket that prevents radiant heat transfer), spread it over me, cracked my visor open a bit, leaned back onto the passenger seat, and was almost immediately asleep.

I woke about an hour later; typical for my roadside naps. First light was showing in the sky. I sat up. My visor was opaque with condensed breath. I opened it. Wow. The top surface of the space blanket was dusted with feathery frost crystals. The grass in the roadside area was white and my motorcycle's windshield was opaque with frost. Elsewhere in the rest area, a few cars idled to keep their sleeping drivers warm; the exhaust made thick plumes that rose sluggishly in the cold, still air.

Did I mention that it was FREAKING COLD?

Stiff and sleepy, I waddled into the men's room and warmed up a bit.

I headed north again, stopping for hot liquids as needed.

I was in New Jersey when the sun fully arose.




There are parts of New Jersey where it really is "The Garden State." But the I95 corridor isn't one of them.






The low sun didn't give much warmth, but I was grateful for any heat at all.



In the NYC area, I hit the early morning rush hour traffic.



Back over the George Washington...





Back through Da Bronx.





I was feeling semi-human again as the sun climbed higher; still cold, but past the bone-chilling, mind-numbing cold of the predawn.



I left I95 in Connecticut, opting for a Parkway instead. Nice to see some color in the trees again.







It was pretty, but I just wanted to get home to a looooong hot shower.





The clouds thickened, and as I reach my home aream, the local radio stations were calling for rain most places, with snow up north and in the higher elevations. It was still a very cold ride.



But a shower, clean clothes and a nice glass of Woodford Reserve bourbon were waiting to warm me once I reached home.

It was good to get back.