Glacier View. Bike and Brew. How'd you do?

I'm still not sure if my brain is ready to tell this story, but I think I'll HAVE to give it a try seeing as a very dear friend of mine recently informed me that I am his #2 favorite blogger. #1 updates more than me, so BAM. I lose. Sucks to my assmar. Just. like. that. So if this is long winded and heinous, send your hate mail to Buffalo.. (grin)

Notes on Traveling

Lesson #2 - Rain Gear Is NOT Embarrassing!

(a review of lesson#1 can be found here)

So before I left for England, the first of my summer tour trifecta, it was raining beaucoups* here in the Metroplex. It was STILL raining when I returned home 10 days later. It was raining so much that they posted those (seemingly obvious) highway signs that read "Turn around. Don't drown!" for those morons who 'take the chance' in their itsy bitsy Ford Pintos and Chevy Vegas and cross the white water rapids that happen to be newly raging (inconveniently) through an intersection, blocking the most DIRECT route to their IHOPian destinations.**

Anyway.

It was raining.

I knew Alaska would be cold and wet, too, so in between trips I went looking for rain gear. Even in the middle of a metroplex monsoon, rain gear is surprisingly hard to find, so my mom was generous enough to buy a raincoat for me in Lubbock(!)and brought it to me in Alaska. My amazing Aunt Gagi also brought rain ponchos for all of us, so you'd think I'd be covered.. Right? Literally. Covered - by a rain poncho, a rain coat, and a stylish brolly that I bought at Covent Garden in England where it also rained every day.

Too bad I forgot to bring any of this rain gear on my bike and brew experience in Juneau, Alaska..

The brochure for this excursion said that participants would take a "leisurely and scenic" bicycle tour to a gorgeous glacier where we would stop for a little ho cho (hot chocolate) and a picture op, and then head on to the brew part - a tour of an Alaskan brewery and free samples for everyone.

"Yes!" I thought to myself upon reading said brochure. "I've been cycling for a few months now, and am sort of in shape." AND "I like beer! Odd combo, but good for pictures.. OK, let's give it a go!"

We signed up.

First of all, the word "leisurely" means something VERY different in the lower 48. Apparently leisurely in Alaska means up-hill, across major intersections, at a fast pace, in the rain. I did not understand this initially. Oh and I can't forget to mention the bears. "There may be bears near and around you at all times. If you see one, ride faster than the guy next to you, and you'll be fine." (a small panic.)

But I digress (again).

While we were being fitted for helmets and bikes (-my assigned bike was different from the others and required special breaking instructions... holy shit..) the tour leaders offered us some rain gear. I thought, "Nah. It's not really raining. It's just a little drizzle. I'm not afraid of a little rain. Plus look at how silly Rich (who had opted yes for rain gear) looks in his "high water, a size too small" rain pants that don't completely cover his jeans.


There are attractive men around.


I'm not going to wear THOSE in front of them. I'm fine. Well, OK, I'll take the rain jacket, but I REFUSE to wear those goofy looking pants."

Having that particular thought process was a mistake that immediately came back to kick my ass. Literally.

Here's the picture proof:

My "special" bike with the "special" breaks did NOT have a "special" splash guard like the others, and as one may or may not understand (because she grew up in the desert), when it rains puddles form. If one rides a bicycle through said puddles without a splash guard on her bike, the mud and water spin onto one's back and back side - which is precisely what happened to me!

We had not even stopped for the ho cho OR brew part of the trip and already my ass was completely wet; my jeans were stuck to my knees because when jeans get wet, that's what they do, which, it turns out, makes pedaling very difficult. On top of that, I was way out of breath and was actually making excuses about not being used to the high Alaskan altitude - though I've since learned being at high altitude has nothing to do with being north on a map. Alaska happens to be right at sea level..


Also, there were times when we were riding up-hill, rain whipped and cold, that I should've walked my bike since I was riding so slowly that my bike almost turned over for lack of propulsion. I could audibly hear the freaking bears snicker and snear, "Too easy.. That's just too damn easy. Plus, get a load of her pants.."

(sigh)

The good news is that I was in high spirits (yes, before the brew) and was able to make jokes about wanting to find some sweet jumps.

The attractive men took it upon themselves to mention how wet my pants were. Perhaps it was because I kept shrieking like a teenage girl, "Hey! I can't believe how wet my pants are! Look at this! Ohmahgod! It's probably the altitude!" over and over.

I don't want to sound like it was a ruined excursion. In fact, it might have been my favorite one! And, after the brew, I really didn't care about my pants at all or about the fact that with every step, my panties wrung a tiny stream of water down my legs. I took out (literally in the form of a body check) any and all frustration on one of the attractive men hecklers at the end of our frantic hike back to the ship, which is a different story for a different post.

The moral is don't be embarrassed about rain gear. Wearing it could prevent high levels of embarrassment, though I'm sure I would've found a different path to total self-mortification on this excursion.

* So, here in Texas we say "boo coos", but I just realized that what we are really saying is beaucoups - as in the French merci beaucoups (thank you very much). We totally bastardized that one.

** "Wow, rants are easy to come by," said the girl who is now drooling for pancakes