highwaybloggery
Sheila Ranger rides through the winter – she was bred from Scots
Swanky health spas have declared exposure to sub-zero temperatures to be the very latest thing in beauty therapy. For an appropriate fee, those in search of a cure for fatigue, dry skin, acne, cellulite, depression, stress, insomnia, asthma and osteoporosis, can don cotton shorts, gloves and leather clogs and stroll round the inside of a freezer under the supervision of a trained therapist. I console myself with this thought
when I roll the bike out of the garage on the kind of mornings that cause my glasses to frost over inside the helmet and make me wonder whether Pinlock need to do a deal with Specsavers. More sensible bikers than I, have
declared it to be the off-season, polished their prides and joys and stowed them safely in the corner of the garage under a warm cover. But I know that they secretly sit on their sofas with their helmets on playing x-box riding games, because a biker needs a fix like a tick needs a tock (C) Tim Minchin, and that’s the only one clean enough for a family magazine!) I’ll stick with getting mine in the real world – though it helps that I ride a Bavarian tractor, not a finely-tuned Italian track-day rocket, and that Ruby is rarely troubled by the thought of being covered in enough mud to keep the Time Team busy for a week. Riding in winter isn’t all bad.
Genetic adaptation helps – I’m the outcome of a carefully managed breeding programme of Scottish people, so I’m naturally at home at temperatures that don’t exceed single figures and I prefer to see the sun through a thin veil of mist. I’d be reassured to know if the cry of anyone else’s parents during their summer holidays was “Get your jumper on, we’re going to the beach,” but I feel this may be unlikely. Preparation is also important.
Like a Russian doll or an onion, when I’m riding at this time of year, if you peel off my top layer you'll find a slightly smaller version of me underneath (this time in furry climbing top instead of black fleece) and if you peel off that layer
you'll find another smaller me, this time in superwool thermals. I like to believe this is the reason that the waistband of my all-weather trousers doesn’t quite close, though I fear it is more likely to be my carefully developed insulation layer of winter blubber. Heated grips take care of the rest.
My first bike didn’t have them until I crashed it and got the handlebars replaced on the advice of David Kenworthy. David was then Chairman of the IAM so I figured he probably knew what he was talking about. Before heated grips I could only go about 30 miles before the pain in my fingers forced me to stop. Why bother? Well, recently I rode
to Norwich on the trail of some potential work. When it wasn’t raining the low winter sun caught the pines and the mist and made East Anglia look like one of Hiroshige’s One Hundred Famous Views of Edo.* Also, because I ride so much in Scotland and Wales as a participant in the Round Britain Rally, like Pavlov’s biker I have come to associate being cold and riding through wet pines with being on holiday. So, as a result of 15 minutes on the A11 through Elveden, my brain persuaded itself that we had been on a mini-break. And let’s not forget those beauty benefits – according to the men in white coats, cryotherapy triggers the nervous system to release feel- good endorphins, while getting back into the warm at the end of the ride will result in improved circulation, an enhanced oxygen supply to the skin and the removal of toxins. I’m not sure about cellulite but I know that for me, riding is the cure for fatigue, depression, stress, and insomnia. And American researchers found that a regular dose of ‘whole body vibration’ - such as one gets from the aforesaid Bavarian tractor - helps stave off osteoporosis in ladies. So it’s good for my mental health, it’s good for my skin, and it will help me avoid dowager’s hump. And that’s why I ride through the winter...oh, and the fact that I can still pass anything in front of me at a moment’s notice.
* Hiroshige (1797-1858) was one of the last great artists in the ukiyo-e tradition. Though he captured a variety of subjects, his greatest talent was in creating landscapes of his native Edo (modern-day Tokyo) and his final masterpiece was a series known as ‘One Hundred Famous Views of Edo’ (1856-1858). I expect you knew that – Ed
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