The Water Tower at Volunteer Park

Today was the warmest day in 139 days. Seriously.

Don’t ask me why, but 60 Seattle degrees are equal to 90 “anywhere else” degrees.

It’s the first day of 2011 that the temperature has cracked 55, and since everything is relative, I felt oppressively hot all afternoon. Frankly, give me 50 degrees and rain and I am golden, but I am trying not to be a hater.

Instead, I took advantage of the warmer temps to keep my gloves stored under the seat, and I rode bare-handed for the first time. I’ll be honest, it was kind of nice. I missed the tactile feedback of skin-on-throttle, and I was even able to reach in my pocket and take a few snapshots at stoplights (which is cumbersome with the mitts).

I cruised my neighborhoods (Downtown, Belltown, Capitol Hill, and First Hill) for an hour or so, and for the first time in a long time, I headed up to Volunteer Park to climb the Water Tower.

My, how I had forgotten just how far it is to the top. Especially in boots.

I walked up the staircase; calves burning; knees screaming; but the payoff was so worth it. As you can see, the tower affords another prime view of the most beautiful city on God’s green earth.

Seriously, every time you turn a corner in this town, you get knuckle punched in the face with improbable scenery that makes you stop and say “Oh, come on, this is ridiculous! This is what you are supposed to see AFTER you die … assuming you love Jesus!” It’s scenery pornography. Seattle is the municipal equivalent of Jessica Alba touching her toes in a thong bikini made of handi-wrap. This town makes a double rainbow look like a pile of excrement.

Anyway, if you live somewhere else, please accept my condolences.

Stay there, though.

Let the pictures fill the void.