In The Fog

Douglas N today.  I left the hotel around 10 this morning, after having waited patiently for the fog to burn off and for the sun to come out. 

After riding over the Juneau-Douglas bridge I turned right and headed north, hoping to accomplish what I did not accomplish on foot a few weeks ago - ride out beyond the houses and the traffic, and eventually reach open channel, island views and the quiet and solitude that I knew was waiting for me if only I could travel far enough............

There was still a good deal of fog on Douglas, and I rode and waited patiently for it to burn off, all the while hoping that the red flashing light on the back of my bike, and the white flashing light I had attached to my pack would be enough to alert drivers that I was there.

As I continued riding north on the beautiful pine-tree-filled highway, the fog got thicker, and the air temperature unexpectedly continued to drop.  I could see the sun trying very hard to burn off the fog, and I willed the skies to clear.

Willing the sun to come out

I rode about 10 miles on the highway until I arrived at the N Douglas Boat Ramp.  I came this far briefly with my room-mate a few days after I arrived in Juneau while looking at a duplex - but it was at the end of the day and as it was getting dark, so I did not remember much about the area aside from water and islands. 

My trip this morning did not provide me with any more insight.  I was amazed at the difference between the blue skies and sunshine I had left in Juneau, and this completely socked in boat ramp I was now facing!  Somewhere in that soupy fog was water and mountains and islands.........

 

I took a few pictures before deciding to move on.  But at this point I was not sure how much further I was actually going to ride.  The view of the channel was completely obscured, but more importantly I was starting to get very cold.  I looked down at my outer fleece and realized that I had a layer of water and a good deal of ice on the outside of it.  Hmmmm......that wasn't good.  And I was regretting that I had not stashed a rain shell in my pack.  I would have felt better with a layer of water and ice on a jacket as opposed to my fleece.

Anyway, I rode another couple of miles - partly to see if the sun would actually succeed in burning off the fog so I could stay with my plan of doing a very long road ride today, and partly to just get moving again so I could try and maintain body heat.

By the time I took this picture along the shore (below) the fog had gotten still worse, the fog was beginning to become claustrophic to me, and my body temperature was starting to drop like a rock. 

I pulled off the road, reached into my pack and pulled out the extra clothes I was carrying with me.  Within a few minutes I was wearing three layers on top (base layer, 100 weight fleece, 200 weight fleece), two layers on bottom (long bike tights and a pair of rain pants), two pairs of gloves (full fingered bike gloves, and a pair of fleece lined gore-tex gloves), and a nylon hat.  My hands were still freezing.  My toes were numb (really wish I had brought an extra pair of socks with me).  And I would have benefited from wearing a fleece hat (if I had brought one with me).  I absolutely was not prepared for how cold it was only 12 miles from downtown Juneau.

Frozen grass, and frozen barnacles on frozen rocks

My frozen bike

I headed back to the boat ramp and looked hopefully at the sky.  As I rode I could see blue in the sky to the south, and it looked like things were clearing up.  Pictures of a bench dedicated to a loved one, rocks by the waters' edge, and another abandoned boat in the sand.

By the time I snapped these pictures though, I was much too cold to continue standing around along the shoreline waiting for the fog to clear.  My hands, but even more-so my feet, were freezing.  In fact, the cold had completely worked its' way in, and it was time for me to head back to Juneau. 

I stopped for a few minutes on the way back - standing in the rays of the elusive sun and eating soft cookies  - 2 ploys I tried unsuccessfully, in an attempt to warm up a bit.

A picture of the combat that two weather systems were engaged in this morning in North Douglas - a collision of warm sunshine, and freezing cold and fog

An interesting picture on the way back. The skis form the privacy fence and gate access to someones' house

The traffic gradually increased and the fog gradually decreased the closer I got to Juneau. And sure enough, by the time I arrived back in town I was greeted with the sun and warmth my body was craving.

Taken on the Juneau side of the Juneau-Douglas bridge.  You can see the fog bank in the background in the first picture.

In the Fog - by Giovanni Pascoli

I stared into the valley: it was gone—

wholly submerged! A vast flat sea remained,

gray, with no waves, no beaches; all was one.

And here and there I noticed, when I strained,

the alien clamoring of small, wild voices:

birds that had lost their way in that vain land.

And high above, the skeletons of beaches,

as if suspended, and the reveries

of ruins and of the hermit’s hidden reaches.

And a dog yelped and yelped, as if in fear,

I knew not where nor why. Perhaps he heard

strange footsteps, neither far away nor near—

echoing footsteps, neither slow nor quick,

alternating, eternal. Down I stared,

but I saw nothing, no one, looking back.

The reveries of ruins asked: “Will no

one come?” The skeletons of trees inquired:

“And who are you, forever on the go?”
I may have seen a shadow then, an errant

shadow, bearing a bundle on its head.

I saw—and no more saw, in the same instant.

All I could hear were the uneasy screeches

of the lost birds, the yelping of the stray,

and, on that sea that lacked both waves and beaches,

the footsteps, neither near nor far away.