Soaked to the bone, my hands so cold my thumb doesn’t have the strength to shift gears, I’m hammering as hard as I can on the descent, desperate to get warm and dry while one thought screams in my head:
What an AWESOME ride!
I’m pretty sure I have far too many moments like this, times when I pause and think, from an average person’s perspective, that I should have my head examined.
But I love these moments.
I live for these moments.
They make me feel alive.
They define me.
This ride began innocently enough. Sure, it rains here in Oregon. Most days, though, there’s a sun break when you can get out and ride.
On Saturday I watched the morning rain from my office window, then caught the early afternoon sun break for a tremendous ride before rain resumed later that afternoon.
On Sunday I figured I could swing the same deal.
About 45 minutes in, though, the rain started sprinkling down. It wasn’t too heavy, and didn’t necessarily look like it might get too heavy. So I forged on.
Besides, I thought as I pushed on, look at the dry spots under the Cedars. We’ve had a lot of rain and those spots are bone dry. If it gets bad, I’ll just hunker down for a while ’til it passes.
And heck, I wonder just what Bald Eagles do in the rain. Be cool to find out.
Before I could get halfway around the mile-long reservoir to the area where the Eagles play, it hit. Serious rain. Not a downpour — yet.
I found a dry spot and chilled for a while. Then? Well, I got dumped on. Soon even the Cedar couldn’t handle the rain, and it soaked me. The wind blew the rain and hail sideways underneath, too.
I stood there (again, well aware of the possibilities of ticks hoping for me to take a seat) with my sweat chilling and my body temperature falling. I’m thinking the ride home will be ugly.
Just then I heard the terrified quack of Ducks. Strange how you can tell the difference between a friendly quack and a frightened out of your feathers quack, even though I generally don’t speak much duck.
Three Ducks go screaming over the reservoir. If you’ve never seen Ducks at full speed, well, it’s like the Blue Angels flying over. They can boogie.
Then I heard it.
Without question, the shriek of an Eagle. But where?
I continued to scan the tops of the trees across the lake, looking high where two juvenile Bald Eagles were soaring around the day before. Nothing.
A few minutes later, I heard it again. Another scan and, Whoa! Directly across the lake from me, three quarters of the way up a tree, she sat there, perched, in the rain. Exactly what I came to see and learn about. Eagles in the rain.
She was much closer than the previous encounter. But with everything drenched I thought it best to leave my camera in the waterproof bag. It would probably get destroyed under these conditions.
So I just watched. Enjoying the show of her shaking off the water every now and then.
What followed blew my mind. A much louder, closer shriek. Suddenly her beau zipped past, about 50 feet away, between us. He flew up the rez, then spun and came back to check me out, zooming about 20 feet above me before heading back across the water.
He flew up the lake shore again, and I figured he would just land in another tree like they’ve done time and again. Instead, he swept around and bolted straight for her tree. He landed right next to her.
My mind screamed, “Who cares about ruining the camera!”
Trying desperately to keep drops off the lens and the rest of the camera body from getting soaked, I tried to take a few photos. The rain wasn’t cooperating, and neither were my shaking, prune wrinkled hands. But I savored watching the couple catch up with each other. No doubt these are the parents to the juveniles. Maybe next year there will be six instead of four.
The male took off, again headed in my direction first before ascending like a rocket to become nothing more than a speck in the cloudy skies. The rain paused long enough for me to change into a dry cap and hit the road, making a note to return my winter gloves to my backpack — having lightened my load a week ago proclaiming spring to have sprung.
The rain started up again, just to make sure I was completely drenched. I hit the descent, and two miles later found sunshine and dry gravel. It didn’t even rain a drop down there.
No matter. It’s a ride that’s unforgettable.
Eagles in the rain.
Time to ride.
