It was a sultry day for a winter ride, but who's complaining?

Manhasset Bay from the Leeds pond end.

 I guess the modest cycling equivalent of the Amnesty International motto "it's easier to curse the darkness than light a candle" might be, "it's easier to curse the rain than ride a bike," but with a little help from the weather forecasters, and a couple of heads-ups from friends, it was fairly easy to get rides in during these four days of mostly sunless, foggy and damp — and not get too wet.

 Christmas Eve, I think it was, some fairly heavy drizzle perfused the ride for a brief time, but the temperature was right around 70 degrees. So no complaints — to be able to wear summer cycling gear — shorts short-sleeved shirt — in the first few days of winter is an offer few cyclists would want to refuse this time of year.

If you are an egret, this is good fishing territory. If you are not
an egret, it's still pretty scenic even on the dullest of days.

 Today, was another sultry day for a winter bike ride, but who's complaining? Temps close to 63 were on tap. The dampness could not prevail, the rain held off at least until nighttime, and anyone who wanted to ride, had a decent shot at a dry ride in perfect conditions.

 Temps in the 50-60 Fahrenheit realm in late December, seem like a pretty fair trade off against sunny and frigid — even for a  natural vitamin D hound like myself.

 There will be plenty of time for "frozen bluebird"days in the coming months ... unless El Nino turns into an East Coast rainmaker/snowmaker. Let's hope not.

 For now, though, the pre-El Nino onset has given us day after day of rideable weather. Never in my cyclingest dreams would I have imagined four-out-of-four rideable days over this short Christmas break. But we got them in — between occasional showers and fog.

 A longer ride to Greenvale/Glen Head was on the "possible" menu, today, but after hooking up with another rider and swapping pulls on Shore Rd., I figured I'd give him some space — as I would be no help in the Roslyn hills. So I decided tit was a good time to experiment and try a new route.

There are different reasons every ride as to why one turns right instead of left. This time Mott St. hill was calling, and I almost wish I hadn't listened to it. But I did.

Two-thirds of the way up, I thought I was not going to make it all the way without a dismount, such was Mott's unrelenting steepness. ... but I had a little more juice in the tank, a little more hill miles under my belt, and I managed to make it to Layton on two wheels. I'll take it. That put me in position to enjoy a long easy reverse ride down Country Club Drive, and across 101 to Bonnie Heights. Also not part of Plan A, but improvisation is the spice of life in cycling, keeps it fresh ... even if the sun ain't exactly shining.