Back in the Saddle Again
Having a broken arm hasn't kept me off my bike.
(Videographer: Nora Wyman)
Cycling through the meaning of life with the help of bikes and cameras.
There I was, initially pedaling in bliss along the coast. The mountains above Malibu to the north, and the mountain that is the Palos Verdes Peninsula to the south, formed the wide open jaws of Santa Monica Bay. The island of Santa Catalina, 27 miles across the sea, floated like a serene, purple leviathan.
Then I noticed pale puffs and stringy tangles of fog just beginning to muster in the bay, as they planned for a silent shore invasion in the evening. The fog slightly marred my otherwise clear views out over the Pacific. With a shock, I noted that the temperature had dipped to about 65 degrees, and I had to pedal hard just to stay warm. Why, oh, why, did I leave my arm and leg warmers at home?
True, this late in the afternoon most people were somewhere else, so the bike path was like my private, closed-circuit training course, as I headed south to the Redondo Beach Pier, and back north again. Even so, I soon realized the occasional cyclist, jogger, surfer, volleyballer – whomever – were intent, like the fog, on blocking my views! That really frosted me on what should have been a perfect winter's ride.