Did I really need the third layer?
The thermometer on the back porch said 44°F at seven, and I did what I always do in early October: I packed for January. Wool base layer, a long-sleeve jersey, the old windbreaker, and then, just in case, a fleece vest rolled up and strapped under the saddle like a sleeping bag on a mule.
The plan was simple. Ride out on the county road to the orchard by the reservoir, buy a half-peck of apples, and come home. About 34 miles round trip, mostly flat, with one long grade on the way back that I like to pretend isn't there.
The first hour
For the first eight miles I felt smug. Fog was still sitting in the low fields, my fingers were fine in the thin gloves, and the maples along the creek were just starting to go orange at the edges. I kept the tires at 60 psi, a little softer than summer, because the shoulder is already covered in wet leaves and acorns, and I don't trust either of them.
By mile twelve the sun had burned through and it was 58°F. I stopped by a fence post and took off the windbreaker. At the orchard I took off the long-sleeve jersey too and stuffed it into the bag next to the apples, which did the apples no favors.
What I actually used
- Wool base layer: all day, no complaints
- Windbreaker: forty minutes in the morning, ten minutes on the descent home
- Long-sleeve jersey: about an hour, then served as apple padding
- Fleece vest: never untied, came home exactly as it left
- Spare tube and the small pump: not needed, but I'd never leave them
The climb home in the low gear, 34x28, was warm enough that I unzipped everything I still had on. Somewhere near the top I passed a man raking leaves in shorts, and he gave me a look I chose to read as respect.
So, no, I didn't need the third layer. I'll probably pack it again next weekend anyway. The trouble with October is that the morning lies to you about the afternoon, and I would rather carry a vest for 34 miles than shiver for five. Next time, though, the apples go in a separate bag.