Rain Watchers
Saturday May 4, 2018
"Kickstands up, 9:00 AM!" announced Picky last night.
During the night, heavy thunderstorms rolled noisily through Vicksburg;. At 7:00 AM, a look through the "tent flap" shows light cloud cover, but the radar shows a massive organized front imminently approaching from the West and south. The ride is cancelled.
Our ride today will track this thing along the eastern front all day at it moves across our path. There is no escape.
For no particular reason, we've gotten up earlier than we planned; and since we packed most of our belongings last night, leaving only the everyday luggage, there's no special re-packing to be done. We took the rain gear into our room last night.
An observant reader might recall the crawfish-contact lens saga. It worked out pretty well last evening, but this morning when I put in my lenses, my eyes water and burn for about 20 minutes before it all dissipates. Yes, it's worth it. I could wear glasses if I chose to do so.
The ride cancellation has spawned a cadre of folks sitting on picnic chairs under the overhang, like Professional Rain Watchers.
In unison, Kitty and I perform the Dance of the Rainsuits, positioning rain-proof hoods under helmets, cinching wrist gauntlets, making sure all flaps are zippered and velcroed shut. Helmets are next to last, followed only by rain gloves.
By now the storm front has arrived in earnest and the rain is pouring down. Kitty checks out of the motel while I pull the bike over to the Rain Watchers to say goodbye to our friends.
I consider waiting until this band has passed, but then realize we and it are traveling the same direction, and we'll simply catch up to it on a few minutes. There seems be no gain in waiting. On the radar screenshot attached to this blog entry, the blue pin is where we are; the red pin is where we're going.
So we mount up, salute the group of Rain Watchers with a good strong blast from the horn, and roll out into the pouring rain a little after 9:30 AM.
No sooner do we clear the entrance ramp to I-40 East than visibility decreases to a few hundred feet, and we ride at 45 mph with the four-way hazard flashers activated. We are dry and composed, traveling the same speed as cars and trucks who are barely visible in the mist, making slow but steady progress.
Within 10 miles we are out of this band and I can speed up to 65 mph (speed limit 70) but not using my cruise control.
Eventually we reach Jackson MS where we pick up US 49 south. Just before reaching Hattiesburg MS we run into another strong organized cell and repeat the 45 mph hazard flasher routine for about 15 miles.
I have to give a shout-out to our Shoei Pin-Lock helmet shields. We each have two: dark and clear. I'm wearing the clear shield for better vision. In heavy weather, a real problem for a biker is the shield fogging up, especially when talking to my passenger on the headset. I've tried all kinds of devices and treatments for this (Fog City being probably the best of the bunch, but it creates annoying double images at night), but always end up periodically having to crack the shield open for a mile or so while the shield clears; this deposits water droplets on the inside of the shield, leading to significant visibility problems. You trade a fogged shield for one covered with water droplets, each looking as big as a saucer because of the proximity to the eyes. These Pin-Lock shields snap decisively closed with a watertight seal, and absolutely will not fog. Kitty and I both comment how much an improvement this is over everything else we've tried. It's very peaceful inside this cocoon even when surrounded by vile weather. They are expensive but when I'm on I-20 two-up and towing, with dramatically diminished visibility in torrential rain, I'd pay triple for the security and peace of mind. These things are awesome!
For the last hour of the trip southward on US 49, we track "yellow" cells on the on-board radar as they move across our path. No severe weather is reported by radar or the National Weather Service GPS screens, so we continue steadily and alertly onward.
After four hours of this, thankfully without any dramatic incidents, we reach our family in Gulfport and peel off all the wet layers before getting proper hugs from the grandkids and family.
We are dry and warm except Kitty's jeans are a little damp in spots. The rain slides off the rain jacket onto the seat and has no place to exit, so it finds tiny imperfections in the stitch seals during a long ride in hard rain.
Riding in this kind of weather wears me out even without drama, because the edge of safety is so much sharper than a sunny-day cruise. Grilled country pork ribs and corn on the cob, followed by homemade ice cream and brownies, is the perfect way to unwind with the family.
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