According to the Beaufort Wind Scale, a moderate gale force wind is 32-38 mph. Last night, our gravel crew gave Mother Nature the finger. With sustained winds out of the northwest at 25 mph, gusting to 37, the final “official” Thursday night gravel ride was gutted out by a larger-than-normal, jovial crew.
Those smiles, though? Yeah. They didn’t last long. (Except for Dan, who hooted and hollered at all the suffering.)
Heading north toward the gravels between Bettendorf, Davenport and Eldridge, we immediately lost our lone fat biker who at Mile 2 sensibly opted out and turned around, returning to their vehicle. The remaining 13 attempted to remain together, but that wily wind quickly dismissed the “group effort.” It was every man for him (or her) self. Reassembling at every stop sign, the riders at the front pushed a solid pace while those in the back hung on in silence, their mashing summoning the gods for the strength to endure.
Though the wind failed to thwart the riders, the lure of Van’s $5 personal pan pizzas and giant slices nearly got ’em. Fortunately everyone was able to put on their beer jacket and ride home after 26 oz. $3 drafts.
This is the only evidence that remains. (Well, this and some Strava achievements. (Mostly Jen stealing KOM’s with that tailwind.))