SLIDESHOW

Bad weather is not a major issue for me. When it gets cold, I wear my warmest gloves. When it rains, I have a variety of waterproof gear.

Not only do I not mind bad weather, I need it to justify the investments I've made in clothing and gear.

So, when I was cycling on an overcast day on the Blue Ridge Parkway, with an occasional rumble of thunder in the distance, I wasn't greatly concerned.

As long as there was no lightning, I figured things would be fine. You might say I challenged Mother Nature to force me off the bicycle.

Just past Milepost 7, a steady rain began.

"That the best you got?" I thought as I pedaled onward.

Around the halfway point of Mile 7, something seemed different. I noticed "pinging" noises on my helmet. I saw white specks mixed with the rain.

Could this be . . . yes indeed, it was.

Hail.

Well played, Mother Nature, well played.

Riding in the rain is one thing. Sure, you get wet for a while, but when the rain stops, all your synthetic clothing dries quickly.

Hail is another issue. The weather can change quickly in the mountains, and I had thoughts of small pieces of hail turning into golf balls pelting me into unconsciousness.

So, I did something I rarely do on any cycling outing, especially in the mountains. I sprinted for cover, and found it in an SUV conveniently parked not more than 50 yards ahead.

I reached the vehicle, propped the bike against the car and dove into the back, where it was not only dry, but also occupied by a lovely lady with a bright smile.

Wait. That was no lady. That was my wife.

Twenty minutes into the rainstorm, my wife asked, "How long are you going to wait?"

"This will pass in a minute," I said.

She went back to her reading.

Thirty minutes into the storm, my wife said, "Sometimes, it just isn't your day."

"I'm sure this will pass in just a minute," I said.

She said, "Uh-huh." And went back to her reading.

Forty-five minutes into the storm, the hail had disappeared, and I decided the rain had decreased sufficiently that I could continue upward and onward.

And so I went.

The Blue Ridge Parkway is an excellent place for a bike ride. The road is challenging. The scenery is lovely and sometimes breathtaking. And best of all, there are no turns. You start from the first overlook on the parkway, Rockfish Gap, and ride on the same road for 469 miles.

My goal that Sunday was a bit more modest. I wanted to ride 30 miles in four hours. I asked Mrs. Woody to accompany me because I needed a ride back from Milepost 30. I can take the long climbs. I can take the drops of sweat rolling down my forehead, under the bridge of my sunglasses and off the end of my nose.

But I am worn out with riding 10 or 12 miles, then riding back to Rockfish Gap, where I have parked the car.

Call me whiny, but the whole time I'm riding, I'm thinking, "That downhill is going to be an uphill on the way back."

And yes, I know that the uphills going out are downhills coming back. But for some reason on the return, everything seems to be uphill. Don't ask me how or why. It just is.

The first six miles of the parkway are fairly routine: road, trees on both sides of the road, uphills, downhills, cars, motorcycles and an occasional recreational vehicle passing on the left.

Just past Milepost 6, the road becomes a switchback and the view opens up as you ascend toward Mile 7. The Shenandoah Valley spreads out two miles below, and you feel as if you are on the edge of the world.

If you ride as I do, you don't really get to enjoy this view. My handlebars tend to follow my head, and if I spend too much time looking to my right, I wind up riding to my right. This is not a good idea on the parkway.

Fortunately, there are a number of overlooks that feature views of the mountains in the distance and the valley below.

My goal to ride 30 miles took a hit from the weather delay. I settled for 22 miles, which I covered in 2:45 of actual riding time, 3:30 of real time. Not bad. I've had worse days, I promise you that.

I will say this. Some distance south, at Mile 63.1, the James River comes into play. This is the lowest point of the parkway, and there is a visitors center and a walking bridge over the James. The view to the west is spectacular.

It's worth the trip. The problem is that next 13 miles require a climb of 3,305 feet.

Hmm. Maybe next year.