Dancing in the Dark

OK, so not dancing, but cycling.  Same, same but different, no?  Well, let me tell you that with headwinds and crosswinds more suited to an Olympic sailing race, riding my bike last evening was not dissimilar to a paso doble.

I mentioned a couple of posts ago that one of the reasons I didn't start cycling again sooner after my ankle injury was that last year I didn't get around to learning to cycle in the dark.  Being able to cycle in the dark is key skill if you live in the UK, want to cycle to and, crucially, from work in the winter and you have a job that finishes after 3.30 p.m., which I do.  On one occasion last summer, I left it a little bit late to set off home and it was a bit dusky by the time I arrived, but that was the extent of my nighttime escapades.

I had a grand plan for how I was going to earn my "cycling in the dark" stripes this year.  I was going to have a few weeks of cycle commuting, a few weekend bike trips and then I was going to get James to come with me on a bike ride in the dark so that I would have someone to hold my hand, as it were, for that first outing.

It didn't quite go according to plan, though.  As you know, yesterday was my first cycle of the season and I got my things together and started unfolding my bike outside the office at about 7.10 p.m.  I knew it wasn't going to be properly dark until about 8 p.m., so as long as I got myself in gear (groan!), I would be home before dark.  However, I wasn't planning on one of my colleagues leaving the building at the same time as me and stopping to have a chat while I was putting the Beeblemobile (oh, yes, it has a name now) back together, which slowed me down immensely.  Add in dropping a few things, my fingers being too cold and my general incompetence, and it was gone 7.30 p.m. by the time I was ready to go.  I had a choice - I could carry on as I was and cycle home and hope I was nippy enough not to have to do too much in the dark, or I could dismantle the bike again, put it back in the office, get changed and take the train.  I couldn't be bothered with faffing about, so I decided to cycle.

James had called me when he had got home to warn me about the very strong headwinds and crosswinds, but I hadn't reckoned on how much they would slow me down.  I also realised, almost immediately, that I was seriously tired from the morning's efforts, which also slowed me down.  So, by the time I'd got about a third of the way home, it was pretty much dark.  Luckily, I was prepared for every eventuality and had my trusty fluorescent orange jacket and enough lights for a small Christmas tree.

There are some advantages to cycling in the dark.  No-one can see you crying with fear, for one.  Another is that, unlike in daylight, you can tell categorically when a vehicle is behind you because you can see the light from its headlights washing over you - it's a bit spooky really, like an alien spacecraft coming to get you, but useful nonetheless.  There are, however, myriad disadvantages, too.  One of the main ones is other cyclists.  Other cyclists with no lights.  Other cyclists wearing road coloured clothes.  Other cyclists with no lights and road coloured clothes.  Other cyclists with no lights and road coloured clothes and road coloured bikes who seem to think it's OK to try to overtake you on the inside at a junction and then turn left in front of you.  You get the picture.  Another issue is potholes.  I wrote yesterday about the enormous pothole I encountered in the morning (which has now been duly reported to the council) - I found probably a dozen more on the way home last night, all of which could have caused me to come a cropper had I hit them at a different angle or speed, or not seen them in time to avoid them.  It seems that there are more potholes on the "towards home" side of the road on my route than on the "towards work" side.

I also really missed cycling through the park last night, not least because it helps avoid a horrible long, slow hill.  When I got to Shoreditch Park, it was still light enough that I felt safe, and it's a very open space with few places for bogeymen to hide, so I whizzed through without much thought.  Finsbury Park, on the other hand, is large, has lots of trees and buildings and things, and has a reputation for not being particularly pleasant after dark (unless you're in a group of twenty British Military Fitness addicts with an ex-army man at the head, in which case, it still might not be pleasant, but you do tend to feel safe!) - this meant that I had to cycle alongside the park down Green Lanes and turn into Endymion Road, which I'd never done on a bike before, never mind in the dark.  It was all going swimmingly until I decided to turn right early to avoid the dreaded mini-roundabout and realised too late that there's a no right turn restriction where I needed to do a right turn.  There being no safe place to get back on my bike, I had to walk a few hundred metres up the hill to start cycling again and make my way home, tired, scared, very cold and just a little bit pleased with myself.