Most days commuting by bike is a dream. I get to listen to some good music, get my blood pumping before classes drag me back to earth, enjoy the scenery, and not worry about traffic. I know how long it takes me to get to school and back, and I can usually take my time. But I'd be remiss to suggest that cycling is always a pleasure, especially when life throws your commute a curveball. Actually, in my experience life usually throws a couple curveballs at you at once, to remind you how good your daily life really is most of the time.
A friend, Darren, and I checked out some of the on-campus scenery after class before deciding to hit the Rivertrail for some light riding and photos. I got a tad nervous when I noticed how high the Red Cedar river was while riding through campus. Sure enough, once we hit the on-ramp for the trail, it became clear we weren't going to be able to pass through without snorkels. As a public service I've devised the following advisory system for Rivertrail flooding:
This means you can safely bike using just about anything. The Rivertrail is dry and passable.
This means you should probably ride with some fenders on your bike, as there are puddles and sections where you're going to get wet no matter what.
When you see the galoshes advisory, it means you can brave the rivertrail if you must, but ya better have your best Gorton's Fisherman gear on.
And this is where we are right now, in pure snorkel-assist territory.
So Darren headed back home, and I trudged on, taking my usual Aurelius road alternate route. Having angered the Gods in some way, it wasn't much before home that I reached this awful sight. A detour meant I had to go at least 3 miles out of my way, and there was no getting around it. I reluctantly headed back the way I came, zig-zagged through potholed neighborhood streets, coming out near another rivertrail entrance. Just for shits and giggles I checked it out to see what stage the river was at.
I'd say galoshes at the least.
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