I heard my fathers angry voice. The problem was it was coming out my mouth. Involuntary fits of self deprecating shouting sounded just like my dads occasional outbursts. I guess we share the same glottis shapes and facial cavities. Anyway I can do a pretty good impression of him as it turns out.
The problem was this… I had stopped to get more fuel for the bike and grab a snack. Coffee and donut consumed I just jumped back on and pushed off, forgetting to fuel up.
Mountain rain looks so beautiful from a distance. It adds depth and motion to the landscape. Once you are underneath the clouds though the rain itself is very cold and less picturesque. Colder than summer prairie rain that’s for sure. Yet I pull over and put on only one layer of rain gear under may jacket, thinking that would be enough. When the fuel light came on I was already quite a ways into the park and in my typical over optimistic confusion I thought I would have enough to reach the next town. Well, Kootenay Provincial Park is absolutely huge. I didn’t know it then but I would be riding 130km before the park ended. Plus the rain is now absolutely pouring.
Ok, it would not be a big deal but the fatigue of the previous 4000km/7days had built up and I did not realize just how exhausted I really was. The cold built up in my bones and I thought it only a little further to go so I did not pull over and put on more layers. Plus now the fuel gauge is lower than it has ever been since I owned the bike. I hit the top of a pass and could see that the landscape sprawled out in front of me with no sight of any town. Then the rains really hit hard.
Tired, feeling stupid because it was so avoidable and very very cold suddenly a wave of anger exploded in my helmet. It really announced itself without much conscious involvement on my part. Real screaming stuff.
I thought about the Zen of rolling with life’s problems but it didn’t help much.
There was a sign that said 8% downhill grade (a steep hill) was coming up. I then had to pull in the clutch and coast downhill soapbox derby style. With the occasional blast of power to keep the engine from shock cooling.
The needle now settled on the bottom of the gauge and I was still rolling down the hill.
Ok… I made the gas station that awaited all at the bottom of the last hill.
So no big deal right?
Well, I put myself in an absolutely foul mood. The release of tension manifested as a very black attitude. As I rolled into Banff I dragged my sorry ass into a Starbucks and shivered a tea into my body.
I needed to shake this feeling because I was about to visit my friends Erin and John. They are lovely people who deserve a much friendlier version of me to show up at their door. So I warmed my jets and cheered up.