Jan 12, 2009

A Brief Respite

From the quiet, as it were.

I need to be blogging. I have many things knocking around in my head that I really want to express, including Sunday's marathon hot air balloon recovery ("Now with more MUD!") but today has gone a little pear-shaped, mentally speaking, for some reason which I cannot quite put my finger on. Nevertheless I want to share a little neat thing from this morning with you.

The temps dropped (drastically, for here) into the high 20's last night. The city reported it at 29, so it might have been 27 or 28 here in The Sticks, about as rock-bottom cold as it ever gets. The chicken coop shutters were frosted lightly this morning just before dawn, sparkling in the full Moon light, and I bundled up warm and rode in to work as always, dreading another Monday.

Now, keep in mind it didn't FEEL all that cold. It wasn't particularly damp, and that makes or breaks a man, weather-wise. Or perhaps I'm finally starting to acclimatize. Either way, the ride wasn't bad at all. The only dampness I encountered was halfway to work, in the form of a thick, low-hanging fog bank right around a little creek that meanders under a small bridge in the road. This fog drift couldn't have been more than a mile thick, and I was in and out of it before my visor got very damp.

When I got to work I put Sally on her kickstand, thumbed the ignition switch to "Off" and turned the key off and went to swing a leg over the saddle. As I did I noticed what looked like white crystals on the forefingers of my gloves. I stood up and flexed my fingers inside their GoreTex-lined gauntlets, wondering where I'd gotten into salt. When I straightened my fingers out I realised what it was--ice.

Seems I'd had just a tiny bit of fog cling on the material of my gloves when I passed through the fog bank. As I continued on in the below-freezing temps the wind must have been just enough to freeze the water into a very fine layer, which, when I flexed my fingers, clumped and broke and formed tiny snowflake blobs which fell as I moved my hands, and which sadly melted instantly the moment I got inside.

Interestingly enough the thin ice-rind on the front of my camera bag and on the strap lasted for all of fifteen seconds or so.

4 comments:

Gordo said...

You have such a way with words, my friend: wielding a keyboard like a paintbrush.

It's more of a far northern thing, but there's a really neat weather phenomenon known as "ice fog". You get it in similar conditions to what you describe: enough moisture in the air to create fog, but under extremely cold temperatures. The fog then proceeds to coat everything in hoar frost. I've only seen it once (way up in Yellowknife), but it's gorgeous, almost mystical, stuff.

meno said...

It's because you are so cool!

Clowncar said...

What a neat little moment. I realize it was silent in real life, but in my head, when you flex your gloves, the ice breaks off with a loud shattering sound. Like a movie.

Probably a good thing I don't write screenplays.

Irrelephant said...

Gordo, you're gonna make me blush! Ice fog, eh? Sounds dreadful! *lol* I wonder how close this stuff was to that?

meno, for that you earned a cringe.

*lmao* CC, it was, I fear, pretty quiet. But hey, your world sounds like a lot more fun!