I want to ride my bicycle

Touring the San Juans by ship, longboat and bicycle

2009-08-10T21:01:00.000-07:00

Two of my sons had summer jobs as members of the crew of the Hawaiian Chieftain, a gaff rigged topsail ketch (tall ship) from the Historical Seaport of Grays Harbor. http://www.historicalseaport.org/web/hawaiian-chieftain.html

Benny was the engineer last year (the ship has a couple of diesels) and the bosun this year. Teddy was an able seaman before the mast. They went aboard on 6/26, and sailed around the coast of Washington and the San Juans for most of the summer. The Chieftain and her sister ship the Lady Washington visited various festivals, hosted a couple of summer camps aboard and ashore in the San Juans and took visitors on excursions. They had a passage from Anacortes to the San Juans scheduled, so my other son Danny and I planned to take a ride on the ship and then do a (ferry assisted) bike tour of the islands.

I was thinking about a credit card style trip and some B&Bs, but ran out of time to make reservations. Danny has been intrigued by ultra light backpacking so we decided to try ultra light bicycle touring. I had my Rando bike with a large Carradice seat bag and an Ortleib

handlebar bag. Danny had his cross bike with two large Ortleib panniers and a rack top trunk. We each packed one set of on bike and one set of off bike clothes, sleeping bag and pad and an ultralight 8’x10’ nylon waterproof tarp Linda had made. The tarps, were thin and small enough

to stuff in the pocket on the Carradice. Combined with some stakes and some parachute cord we could have a shelter for only about a pound. We were going to be near civilization so we planned to eat in restaurants rather than carrying food or cooking gear. Getting the bikes and gear organized was a last minute exercise and we got out of Corvallis around 10 on a Thursday. We stopped in Portland for lunch and to pick up a map at Powells’ and then headed north to Anacortes, arriving in time for a great dinner at the Brown Lantern.

Friday morning I had to do some work (a conference call and presentation through the miracle of remote computer access and hotel WiFi). After that we had some time to kill until the ship came in so we rode across the Deception Pass and down to Oak Harbor on Whidbey Island. We had a great BBQ lunch, and a nice ride around the island while we watched the Prowlers and Hornets in the pattern at the Naval Air Station. We got back to Anacortes with a little time to spare, and managed to grab a shower and get aboard the ship as they were offloading a group of campers. We set our bikes on the galley roof and the ship headed back out to sea at 6 pm after only two hours in port.

The Chieftain and Lady had been booked for commemoration of the Pig War at English Camp on San Juan Island http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pig_War and they had to be there at dawn. The wind wasn’t favorable, so the diesels were used for the passage. Nonetheless, it was a great ride. We were happy to see Benny and Teddy, hear about their adventures and see how they fit in the crew. We had dinner as they threaded their way through the narrow passages and ship and pleasure boat traffic of the islands. Eventually it got dark and the Chieftain proceeded to feel her way into the narrow passage past Roche Harbor and into English Camp. The passage was not a lot wider than the Willamette at Corvallis and the ship is 80 tons and 104 feet long. There was no moon, the crew was posted as lookouts at the front of the ship and the mate watched the radar in the cabin below and called up headings to the captain. It was a tense passage, but eventually we found the bay and discovered it was full of small boats, probably there to see the tall ship. We dropped the anchor at around 1 am and settled in for a short night. We were scheduled to fire a cannon salute for the flag raising at 9:00 am.

We woke early and the Lady Washington arrived while we were having breakfast. The Lady is twice as big, has half the horsepower and only one screw, so they’d anchored outside the passage overnight and done it easily in the daylight. The Chieftain weighed anchor and carefully maneuvered among the anchored yachts in close to the fort on shore. As the appointed hour approached, the guns were prepared and run out. Benny was the gunner, so he did the work. Three 3” cannons were loaded with black powder and at exactly 9 am the first one was fired. The half pound of black powder made a flash I could feel 20 feet away, a cloud of smoke and a big bang that echoed back from the hills around the Bay. Another cannon was fired on shore and the Lady joined in as Benny fired the last two guns.

After the salute, the Chieftain was skillfully anchored close to shore with the aid of a lead line, two anchors and a line to a tree. The last demonstration of seamanship was when the bicycles and Danny and I were offloaded into the longboat and we sailed to shore. We passed through the

re-enactors in their 17th century wool with our bicycles and lycra and proceeded up the hill and out of the National Park.

The ride around San Juan Island was a low traffic road along the marine cliffs. We hadn’t gone a half hour when we saw an Orca (killer whale) paralleling our course. He kept a touring cyclist pace just offshore until we turned inland an headed for Friday Harbor. We had lunch and then caught the ferry to Orcas Island.

By the time we got to Orcas, the day was quite warm. Danny wanted to cycle that island because it was described as the “most challenging”. We headed toward Moran State Park over several steep rollers in 90F heat. We scored a spot in the “primitive campground” and settled in. We set up our tarp, grabbed a quick shower (3 minutes/50cents) and headed downhill a couple of miles to Olga for supper. We arrived at the well reviewed Olga Café at 6:15, to find they had closed at 6. The other café in town had also closed at 6, so we were faced with several miles uphill to get back to our campsite and our iron rations. When we turned around we noticed that clouds had been building behind us on the descent and we immediately heard thunder. Uh oh.

Danny and I pushed uphill at a pace which was a balance between beating the rain and eliminating the benefit of our showers. We finally ended up at our camp sweaty but ahead of the rain and settled in to test our ultralight shelter against the thunderstorm that was rapidly approaching. Our supper was 2 cliff bars, some peanuts and some crackers with peanut butter and water. It wasn’t deluxe, but we’d had a big lunch and only ridden 40 miles, so we figured we’d survive. We were snug in our shelter and could hear the thunder approaching

We’d rigged the tarps with one as a ground cloth and the other stretched between a taut line about 3 feet off the ground and some stakes. It worked fine as a sun shade and when the rain was light and vertical. The gust front showed the limitation of the fundamental design when it immediately swept rain in the open end of the shelter. Our first step was to lower the front. That worked for a while, but when the heavy rain started drops bounced off the ground and into our space. We realized at this point why tents are low to the ground on all sides. If we’d anticipated this, we could have rigged the tarp like an a frame, draped over the taut line. By now the rain was heavy and the ground was wet, so changing our architecture would be a damp proposition. We decided to bring Danny’s bike inside the tarp and stake it down between us as a central support and stake the tarp down on all sides. That worked pretty well as a fundamental architecture, and after some minor adjustments we endured an impressive thunderstorm.

The next morning was steamy and hot and we were hungry. A couple more Cliff Bars were first breakfast. Our bike clothes hadn’t dried overnight, so we put on our “off bike” clothes and cleaned up the camp. First objective was to climb Mount Constitution before riding into town for breakfast. The climb turned out to be quite steep, even with low gearing and an “ultralight load”. It was about two thirds of a Mary’s Peak climb. At the top we had a coke and climbed the lookout tower for the fantastic view of the San Juans and Vancouver Island. It was a fast chilly descent off the mountain and then rollers back to East Sound. On the way into town we saw a sign for a pancake breakfast at the American Legion, and “all you can eat” was just what we were looking for.

After breakfast we rode back to the ferry terminal at Orcas. We had a pleasant ferry ride back to Anacortes and then rode the long way around to our hotel to miss the ferry traffic. Next morning Danny dropped me off at SeaTac for a business trip to Chicago and kept the car for another week in Seattle and Tacoma. We’d had a great time on the boat, seen the San Juans and learned about ultralight bicycle camping. In three days we rode about 100 mile, and saw most of the nice roads. It was a good place to ride, but without enough roads to go very far. Next time we go to the San Juans, it’ll be sea kayaking or bare boating.

Race Across Oregon

2009-07-20T19:59:00.000-07:00

Preparation
“Fortune favors the prepared mind” Louis Pasteur

My preparation for RAO included my body, the stuff and the crew. Plenty of endurance and intensity training had prepared my body for RAO. Preparation of my bicycle included fitting my Serotta Legend Ti with a compact crank and long cage derailleur to enable a low gear of 34 x 34. I installed aerobars and swapped in my Rolf Elan race wheels (light and semi aero). I installed the Brooks Pro with Ti rails, for relative comfort and lightness (for a Brooks). My spare bicycle was my Co-motion Ristretto. Besides the spare bicycle I had three levels of backup lights, spare wheels, tires and tubes. I had plenty of clothes for any eventuality, including a loose seersucker jersey Linda made for very hot weather (soak in a cooler before wearing, douse continuously with ice water). I had plenty of food, but was planning to use Perpetuum and had pre-mixed enough for the ride. The crew was selected based first on their willingness to do it, and second on their compatibility. Dan Youngberg, the crew chief, had ridden one team RAO and been crew chief on four team RAOs. Dave Kamp was a two time Paris-Brest-Paris (PBP) Ancienne and a veteran of multiple 100 mile footraces, so he knew very well how a body would perform under duress. My son Danny had ridden multiple long tours with me and raced as a junior on teams I’d coached so he knew me and my approach to racing and riding. A couple of days before the race we converged at Dan’s for a practice ride and worked out signals, hand-ups and close following. When we finally left for Hood River I felt well prepared.

Objectives

My first objective for RAO was safety for myself and the crew. My second objective for RAO was to finish within the time limit of 48 hours. My projection based on various Rando events (PBP, RM 1200) was for 44 hours. After riding large sections of the course and sweeping the XTR I knew that heat and wind could slow me down to the point where the 48 hour limit could be in doubt.

My strategy was the “Tortoise strategy”. I planned to strictly limit my efforts during the first day so I wouldn’t “hit a wall”. In the first day riders and follow vehicles are in sight so it’s easy to go too hard giving chase. I planned on riding with a heart rate monitor and setting a target for each phase. I also planned minimal time off the bike except for one hour sleep break before dawn of the second day. It would give me an intermediate goal and also focus my rest in the time of the day when I would have been at a low point anyway. The second day would be the time to use up the energy conserved in the first day and recovered during the sleep break.

The race

Friday before the Race we finished loading the van, had lunch and then headed for Hood River exactly on schedule. We checked in, had the bike and vehicle inspection and then headed to the racer, rookie and crew meetings. At the rookie meeting I met the other racers and found out there were 3 50+ upright racers. I also found out that to qualify for Race Across America (RAAM) I only needed to be less than 25% slower than the fastest 50+. Qualifying for RAAM seemed doable and become my third objective. I went to bed early and slept well, well enough prepared there was nothing left to worry about.

In the morning I rolled out of bed, had a light breakfast and quickly got my bike to the start line. Race Director George Thomas briefed us and we left at 5 am for the parade start out of town. We rolled out without much drama and spun up through the lovely Hood River valley towards Highway 35. The racing started with the turn onto Highway 35. I paid attention to my heart rate and let several riders pass me on the climb, without raising my pace. It was a beautiful cool morning and a nice ride toward Bennett Pass. Everything was working great. Eventually we got to the point where the support vans could leapfrog and the crews cheered on all the racers. I rode near Sandy Earl for a while and then left her as the hill got steeper. I was sure she’d finish, so I felt that if I was slightly ahead of her I’d be on target. Eventually I crested the pass and began the long rolling descent to Tygh Valley.

After the race I’ve been able to reconstruct the order of racers at the time stations. During the race it was much more confused, with a glimpse of a racer ahead or behind, and an occasional crew van by the side of the road.

At Tygh Valley Time Station (73 miles) I was 15th and there were all 22 solo racers were in the race. I was executing the “Tortoise” strategy.

From Tygh Valley we were on the dry side of the Cascades and the day got hot. It was quite hot on the exposed climb out of the Deschutes Canyon and stayed hot on the rollers into Moro. We also started to fight a cross/headwind.

At Moro Time Station (121 miles) I was still 15th out of 22 solo racers. I passed David Rowe while he was in the time station, but he caught me on the climb out of the John Day Canyon when I took the time to put on the seersucker shirt and get multiple handups of ice water for dousing on the climb. It was the hottest part of the day and the ice water made a big difference. After the climb the road is on a high plateau with various valleys, and the weather started getting cooler. We were about 180 miles into the ride when I caught David again. Riders are allowed to ride side by side for 15 minutes during the race, so we took this opportunity to ride together for a while. He was suffering from the effects of heat on his digestion and had slowed down to the pace of the tortoise (me). I was also feeling a little queasy and commiserated with him. It was a beautiful time of the evening as we rode along. Eventually he went ahead to the next time station when I stopped to install lights for night riding.

At Heppner Time Station (207 miles) I was 11th out of the 21 solo racers remaining. David came in 2 minutes ahead of me and we left the time station ahead of him.

It was still light as we climbed out of Heppner, but the evening was nice and fresh. The road to Ukiah has a big steep climb and I was suffering somewhat from lack of calories. I’d finally given up on warm Perpetuum and did this portion of the ride on Mountain Dew and Triscuits. They settled my stomach and provided caffeine, salt, fluid and carbs. After a long descent to Vinson the road to Battle Mountain was a long steady uphill. The teams had started 4 hours after the solos and had been passing me since Hepner. I could see their flashing lights for miles, so there was something interesting to watch. It was cool and I was at about the halfway point of the race, still keeping a reasonable pace. I was stopped by the side of the road refilling my pockets with Triscuits when David Rowe came by. He looked much improved. As we approached Battle Mountain the road steepened for a while and it seemed like the summit was right around the corner. After the summit I was rewarded with a long pedaling downhill to the manned time station at Dale.

At Dale (285 miles) I was 9th out of 18 solo racers remaining. Dave massaged my legs and I got completely out of my bike clothes and set a goal of 45 minutes of sleep while the crew brewed up some soup. I woke on my own after 40 minutes, disoriented and with no door handle on the inside back door of the van. Thankfully, the crew heard me and let me out. I got dressed, had some soup and got ready to face the rest of the race. The complete sleep and soup stop was 1:06.

My objective was to depart the sleep stop about dawn, and sure enough the sun came up during the next 6 mile climb. It’s a great psychological lift to see the sunrise on the second day and I felt good. Unfortunately, the sunrise revealed lots of clouds and as I climbed to the top of Meadowbrook pass I was exposed to a very strong and gusty head/crosswind. It was so strong on the exposed portion I thought I might be blown over the guardrail. I got off my bike and walked a hundred yards past the most exposed portion and then got back on for a windy and hairy descent. There was another short climb but by the time I reached the top of Ritter Butte the sun was shining brightly, the wind was calm and the roads were just damp. I’d hit the tail end of a dissipating thunderstorm just at the top of the previous mountain, and now the world was all shiny and bright. My digestion had settled down and it was a glorious morning. I passed several RAO support vans with riders near them but couldn’t tell if they were solos or portions of teams. In any case I cruised through Long Creek and then down a great descent into Monument. From Monument I was in the John Day River Canyon and the headwind picked up and the temperature quickly rose. At the time station in Spray I left the bike in the sun in the parking lot for less than 5 minutes and my computer recorded 112 degrees F. At this point I was doing math in my head and the headwind and remaining climbs were starting to put a finish within the time limit in doubt. The great feeling of the cool downhill had vanished with my time margin in the heat and headwind. I told the crew we needed to be more expeditious during our stops and rolled out of town. The crew replenished ice and gas while I pushed hard towards Fossil.

I didn’t know it at the time, but at Spray (358 miles) I was 7th out of 14 solo racers remaining. I’d passed two solo racers at Long Creek that had been ahead of me the whole race. They abandoned before Spray. I suspect the heat and headwind were demoralizing.

The next stage had a couple of the hardest climbs of the ride. The heat and headwind continued to Service Creek, and then the road turned the wind to a crosswind and tilted upwards. It was a long hot climb to Butte Creek Pass, followed by a downhill, another kicker and a long downhill to Clarno. The heat continued to be intense and the headwind was strong and so gusty that I had to stay out of the aerobars and pedal on the descent. At the base of the Clarno grade my thermometer read 99 degrees. I changed into the seersucker jersey and doused myself with ice water. The climb was almost completely exposed to the sun and a merciless cross-headwind. I climbed steadily and it took an hour and a half to grind up the 2300’ climb. As I neared the top I could see a thunderstorm sitting just to the left of the pass. The gust front hit in the final portion of the climb and at the top the temperature had dropped to 69 degrees. I changed into warmer clothes and started the descent to Antelope. After a short while the rain from the thundershower arrived so I stopped for rain gear and to allow the crew to install fenders. By the time I was ready to go, the rain was done. When we reached the base of the next climb I removed rain gear and fenders. Some time was lost in the rain exercise, but I was just glad it was only an exercise and not actual rain.

At this point I’d gone 425 miles in 36 hours and I had a hundred miles to go and 12 hours to do it. My computer said I’d climbed 31000 feet, so I expected another 10000 feet to climb. I figured another 50 miles of headwind. The good news was that it was much cooler on this side of the thunderstorm, so I could digest food. Also, it was the last 100 miles, so I could ramp up the effort. I settled down into the aero bars to time trial the gradual descent on Bakeoven road. Eventually I saw flashing yellow lights, and pulled David Rowe into sight. I was pushing against the clock so I made a clean pass with just a quick word in passing and gapped him out of sight off the back.

The descent into Maupin is twisty but it was made even more difficult by the strong gusty wind. It was the only descent I had to ride the brakes, because of the squirrelly winds. We made a fairly quick stop at the time station and got back on the road. My digestion was completely recovered so I wolfed down some potato chips, a latte and a quarter turkey sandwich. At Maupin (458 miles) I was 6th out of 13 remaining solo riders. One of the other riders had passed me while I was in the control, so on the climb out of the Deschutes Canyon I passed him back. This was the stage of the race where I needed to see and chase other riders to keep my pace high and to get the psychological boost of passing. At the top of the plateau I could see flashing lights in the distance so I settled into the aero bars and time trialed after them. I closed the distance and did a clean pass of Karen Armstrong. The false flat was long enough I could gap her out of sight behind me. At this point it was about sunset and we were turning across the wind and getting into the shelter of some trees, so the wind was less of a factor. The flat sections and chases after rabbits had let me put some time in the bank so I only needed to ride 60 miles and climb Mount Hood, but I had 9 hours left to do it. I was also the leading 50+ rider, so barring disasters it looked like I’d finish and qualify for RAAM. Pretty much every part of my body hurt, so I focused on just getting finished and not getting passed.

The long climb up Tygh Ridge was one that was familiar from the XTR 600. I could see flashing yellow lights in the distance and settled down into a long chase up the hill. It seemed like I was slowly closing the gap when the lights went around a corner up the hill. My motivation level and speed dropped and I never saw the rider ahead. Over the top of Tygh Ridge we could see the wind farm across the Columbia River, the red lights on the windmills flashing in unison. We could also see lightning from a storm to our east. No problem, we were going west. We bombed down the hill and took the left turn toward Dufur and Forest Road 44. It was a two hour grind up the 4% grade on FR44. The only excitement was when the crew saw some headlights behind us. I figured it was Karen, gaining on the climb, so I picked up the pace and eventually gapped the headlights out of sight off the back. The descent to Hwy 35 was twisty and my headlight was marginal. The van couldn’t quite keep up on the tight turns I’d be headed into the darkness hoping the van would come around the corner behind me before I’d run out of light. Eventually we safely arrived at Hwy 35 for the descent to the turn off to Cooper spur. I was ready for the ride to just be over. Every time I coasted my legs would turn to concrete and it took real effort to get them turning again. From the turn off it was another 4 miles up a 5 % grade. Dan had forgotten the PA was on and mentioned to the crew that the headlights were back. I heard him and didn’t want to get pipped at the line so I sprinted the last couple of uphill miles to the finish. At the finish I got my finisher’s medal and we’d just taken a couple of photos when Karen Armstrong rolled in, 2 minutes back.

At the finish I was the fifth solo finisher, the fourth upright (not recumbent) solo finisher and the first master over 50 years old (my division). Of the 22 solo racers that started, only 10 (45%) finished within the time limit. 2 more finished late and 10 did not finish.

My finishing time was 45:16 after 517 miles. I spent a total of 2:20 off the bike, including 1:06 for the sleep break, of which 40 minutes were actual sleep. My altimeter measured 40045’ of climbing. Maximum temperature was 114 and minimum was 45. Maximum speed was 45.4 mph and overall average was 12.6 mph. My computer estimates that 21000 calories were burned.
The preparation and strategy paid off in successfully achieving my objectives for the race. It was the hardest ride I’ve done. There were many beautiful and fun portions of the race, and the difficulty only served to increase the sense of accomplishment.

RAO training

2009-07-18T17:55:00.000-07:00

This spring has been a series of long rides, building the endurance base for RAO. After a humbling 300K, I did a hard ride around Alsea falls and then a confidence building 200 mile weekend to the coast. I followed the route Corvallis, Blodgett, Nashville, Siletz, Lincoln City to Pacific city and met Linda at a B&B. Coincidentally, there were some bicycle racers that I knew at the B&B and our breakfast conversation comparing Randonneuring to road racing was like describing a strange planet. The route back was via the Little Nestucca, Grande Ronde, Wilamina, Dallas and Monmouth. I rode my own pace and felt strong rolling back to Corvallis. The ride confirmed that the difficulties on the 300K could be avoided with rest, adequate food and reasonable pacing.

I took another rest week then three progressively harder weekend rides. The Covered Bridges 400K was flat and fairly fast. I rode with Kramer and Dave “Ready to Ride” Rowe. We rode with Dick Weber for a while around the halfway point, but he was riding at a pace slightly above what I could sustain. We let him go, and then caught sight of him again with 50k to go. He saw us and picked up the pace until he was out of sight. He came in coincident with us and confessed to a minor wrong turn. The lesson learned was to ride at my own pace and watch the route.

The next week was SIR’s Ephrata 400K. It was a hilly 400K with plenty of wind and heat. I rode much of it alone, good practice for RAO. I had a tough patch on Loup Loup Pass during the heat of the day, when I couldn’t eat for a while, but was feeling good by the end of the ride and pounded in the finish.

The following week was the XTR 600K pre-ride. It was a hot and hilly 600K. The write up’s on Kramer’s Blog; the short version was beautiful scenery, pretty hot, plenty of climbing and a good time. It was 3/4 of an RAO in the same area, Rando style. It was excellent endurance training.

I took a week off the bike and helped Kramer with the actual XTR 600K. My job was to man a secret control and then sweep (not sag) the course to deal with any heat related problems. I brushed up on first aid for heat stroke and heat exhaustion and stocked the cooler with ice and water. I essentially moved through the controls very near the closing times and got to see another side of the Brevet than I usually do. The temperature was about 5 degrees hotter than the pre-ride and for several people that meant they couldn’t really eat and digest food. That slowed them way down and they were up against time pressure, which meant they didn’t get much sleep or recovery time. They certainly showed a lot of persistence in the face of adversity.

After my rest week, it was time to head east again for a Credit Card Tour. My friend Brian has organized these tours for the past 11 years and this is only the second one I’ve been able to attend. Luckily it was on some of the same roads that the XTR and RAO use. The plan was four days on fast bikes with minimal stuff (carry one set of off bike clothes, wear one set of bike clothes, wash them every night). I rode the Serotta I plan to use on RAO with a large Vaude seat pack. Brian, John Wilson, Harry Phinney and I carpooled from Corvallis to the start at Prineville where we met our friend Dave Gast. Harry had fallen at home before the ride, and showed up with a sore wrist. We advised him to suck it up, probably just a sprain. The ride from Prineville along the top of Lake Billy Chinook was nice. By the time we got to the descent to Lake Simtustus, there were black storm clouds behind us and we could hear thunder. Even with a fast descent we couldn’t beat the storm and we took shelter in a Café in Warm Springs just as the gust front arrived. We ate sandwiches as the water poured down and heard reports of 60 mph winds and golf ball size hail just down the road, in Bend. We rode up toward Simnasho and got detoured to Kahneeta (incorrectly) by a downed power line. The director of security drove us back up around the power line and to the top of the hill. We missed a great climb, but with the detour our total distance to Maupin was still 104 miles.

We overnighted at the Imperial Lodge on the Deschutes in Maupin. The next morning we said good bye to Harry as he headed home to get his wrist checked (turned out it was broken). We continued north on River Road then climbed out of the canyon to lunch at Moro. A tailwind blew us through the wind farms to the John Day river crossing and then into Condon. At Condon we had great milkshakes at the soda fountain and an excellent steak dinner at the Elks Lodge.

The next day we raced the rain toward Heppner and took a right at Hardman ridge. We were in a short cold rain and then rolled south through high forests toward Kahler Basin. The road through the basin was new to all of us and was one of the highlights of the trip. It emptied into the John Day canyon at Spray, a short down river grade to our overnight at the Service Creek Lodge. That was an excellent stop with friendly people and outstanding food.

The last day we had to push the pace to get Brian home for a graduation party. We rode Oregon 207 to Mitchell then Highway 26 over Ochoco for the long pedaling downhill into Prineville. Overall it was a great trip and a good reminder why credit card tours are my favorite type of riding.

The credit card tour was the transition between endurance training and intensity training for RAO. It was essentially a 600K spread over 4 days and the recovery every night let me push harder than Rando pace on the climbs. After that I did a three week block of increasing intensity, hill repeats and multiple trips up Mary’s peak and Alsea falls. My last training ride on 6/28 was a race pace century with a climb up Mary’s Peak, Alsea Falls, over to Harrisburg and back up the valley into a strong headwind.

The last couple of weeks were just easy daily commutes and plenty of work on the logistics of bike, wheel and spare bike prep. I felt ready and rested by the time of RAO.

Respect the ride

2009-04-12T19:37:00.000-07:00

I spent my spring break cycling. Linda and I visited her folks in Phoenix, and I brought a bike along for company. It was a two day drive to Phoenix. Three days of getting up at the crack of dawn riding hard and getting home in time for a swim before dinner. The weather was cool in the morning, hot in the afternoon and windy all the time. It was my spring training camp, so I rode hard all three days. Sunday 4/5 was a very windy 70 mile loop just north of Phoenix enlivened by a 30 minute impromptu time trial when I saw a cyclist gaining on me in my mirror. Monday was 60 miles of hills in the beautiful Salt River Canyon. Tuesday was a 50 mile hilly training ride from Apache Junction to the end of the pavement beyond Tortilla Flat. I could live the snowbird retiree lifestyle, but I’d need to take some rest days.

We zipped back home quickly then I was up to Forest Grove for the Three Capes 300 km Bevet. I learned a lesson on this ride about recovery time. I hadn’t had enough and it showed up 100 km into the ride. The first third I felt great and was on track for a personal best. The pace was 28.5 kph, which is fast for a rando bike with fenders, generator, lights, food and water for a day, a headwind and a couple of good size hills. Then the miles in Arizona and the lack of quality recovery time caught up to me and I had to slow way down. Caffeinated hammer gel gave a quick burst of energy, but wasn’t adequate; I just needed to keep my heart rate down in the recovery zone. The second 100 km my pace dropped to 19.8 kph, with a little more headwind and the same amount of climbing. Lots of people passed me on the hills. I moderated my pace to stay in my recovery zone, and made up some time by keeping the control stops very short. The active recovery helped a lot, and riding with Susan from Vancouver and RB also helped me pick up the pace in the last third of the ride. It had an average of 24 kph, which is about average for me on a flat 300K. In fact, with the short stops at the controls, this was actually my personal best 300K. It sure didn’t feel like it at the half way point.

The lesson for me is to “respect the ride” and allow adequate recovery time. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a bad day on the bike; this ride made me remember it can happen to me and I need to be adequately prepared. I’ll be back for this 300 K next year, better rested.

Inversion Haiku

2009-01-19T10:37:00.000-08:00

We’ve had an inversion this weekend. Cold settles into the valley overnight and then it takes all day to warm up. Sunday morning it was 28 degrees with brilliant sunshine and no wind when I left home on my mountain bike to meet the dirt bags at the Circle Bean. The 8:30 departure time came and went so I finished my coffee and headed out for a solo ride.

Riding alone was OK. I’m working through the sudden death of my friend Rosemarie last Sunday and used the steep climb up Chip Ross Park to compose a letter to her husband in my mind. It was good to be alone on a Sunday morning in the Church of the Spoked Wheel. God’s hand work was all around. At the top of the hill I came out of the trees into the brilliant sunshine with the letter about half done.

The singletrack to the base of Dan’s Trail required my full attention. It’s been dry for more than a week and the trail is all rideable downhill. Climbing up Dan’s toward Dimple Hill, the ground had thawed enough that there were a few muddy spots. A couple required short walks. At one point I came around a corner and was accelerating up a short steep pitch when the rear wheel encountered a root. The wheel spun with a br-a-a-a-p sound as the lugs slipped past the root. Forward motion stopped and the wheel went sideways along the root. I was down in an instant, still clipped into the bike. The trail was soft duff and damp soil, so there was no pain, but it took a while to get unclipped and back up.

Dimple Hill is about 2500’ and just poking into the warm air above the inversion. It was in the 50’s and calm at the peak, but there was a steady wind rustling the tops of the trees. I put all the clothes I’d shed on the way up back on and plunged back down the cold. By the time I got down to Oak Creek there was ice next to the road in the shady spots. Out in the sun on the way home it rapidly warmed up and by the time I got to Bald Hill Park there were plenty of families and dog owners enjoying the sun.

Inversion Haiku

Frozen mud below
Climbing the cold shady trail
Warm spring wind above

Spring training

2009-01-17T20:51:00.000-08:00

I grabbed the opportunity to spend a week cycling in the Arizona sun. A family reunion brought us to Arizona for the New Year’s holiday, and a change in HP’s vacation policy meant I had to use some vacation or lose it. It all came together when my son Danny’s winter break allowed him to hang out down there for an extra week.

Danny and I prepared for the trip by buying a gallon of Slime and filling eight tubes. We were taking our cyclocross bikes since they were capable of both on and off road travel. We brought two sets of wheels per bike: Panaracer Pasela 35Cs for pavement/gravel and 38C cyclocross tires for gravel/dirt/singletrack. It was our first experience with Slime, and it was pretty comical, with fluorescent green slime stains to contrast with the wine stains in the garage. The Slime was apparently effective, we had zero flats despite large numbers of goatheads (vicious thorns) and lots of miles through the land of cactus.

After the family headed home on Friday 1/2/09, Danny and I drove to Tucson and a tour of the Pima Air Museum and Airplane Boneyard. Saturday we headed down to the Chiricahua National Monument. It’s a sky island; a set of mountains with unique environments separated from the other islands by desert. We camped at about 4000’ and rode the paved road up to Masai point at 6870’. Despite brilliant sunshine, there was ice on the road in spots. We picked our way around the ice spots and made it back to the campsite. As we were doing the dishes after dinner it abruptly got very dark and very cold. It was in the low 30s, so we were in the warmth of our sleeping bags by 7:30. The next day we killed time waiting for the sun to warm things up with a long hike to the Heart of the Rocks. The afternoon was warmer so we rode up the Pinery Canyon Road 20 miles until snow stopped us. The Paselas did great on the gravel and hardpacked dirt, but weren’t much use climbing in slushy snow. The park is only about thirty miles form the Mexican border and we literally saw more Border Patrol than local residents. We wanted warm showers and good food but cold rain and our own cooking were threatening so we drove back to find a motel in Tucson.

The next morning we took a fascinating tour of a (retired) Titan ballistic missile site. The 18 month project to design, build and deploy 54 missiles in hardened silos puts our current HP R&D projects in perspective. Of course, we don’t have unlimited money and the threat of nuclear destruction to accelerate us.

In the afternoon we went to the East portion of the Saguaro National Park, just outside Tucson. It was a 10 mile circumference paved loop bisected by a singletrack. The pavement is laid on top of the hardpack desert floor, so there are whoop de doos and dips, curves and great pavement. The singletrack was hardpacked sand and the previos night’s rain made the surface perfect. It was a great ride and we did a lap and a half and finished just before sunset. The cyclocross bikes were ideal for this combination of pavement and smooth singletrack.

We were having fun in Tucson and enjoying not having to eat our own cooking, so we stayed another day for the Chiva Falls trail. Our guidebook rated it as “difficult” and it certainly was. There was quite a bit of ATV trail, but also plenty of loose rocks and steps. It was a beautiful site high in the mountains east of Tucson, and the altitude kept it pretty cool. We navigated around the trail and eventually got to the Chiva Falls, a 50’ waterfall in a pretty little rock canyon. There was plenty of water to keep the streams going. We met some mountain bikers on the way in and they said we must be pretty strong to do this trail on cross bikes. We didn’t take the hint and ended up riding about 80% of the trail but walking the rest. A full suspension mountain bike would have made the trail 95% rideable. Overall it was a good training ride, 20 miles in 4 hours, and a little bit of an adventure.

The next day we drove to Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument, right up against the border with Mexico. It was lower altitude desert and we were finally able to do a ride without knee and arm warmers. It was a beautiful 20 mile gravel road loop into the foothills of the Ajo mountains. It was our last night camping and stayed relatively warm.

The next day was a long driving day up to Sacramento. We decided to stay an extra day in Sacramento and did a long ride on the Sacramento River Trail up to Folsom Dam. It’s a beautiful paved bike path, river grade, and pretty quiet on a Friday. We did a couple of 20 minute intervals at time trial pace, and those plus the 70 mile distance and cumulative riding on the trip was plenty for this time in the season. We were whupped by the end of the ride. We had a great dinner at the Tower Café (recommended by a local as the best place to eat in Sacramento; certainly the best place I’ve eaten in Sacramento). The return to Corvallis the next day was an easy drive up I-5; easy for me because I slept through most of it.

Overall the trip was a blast, and I’m firmly converted to the concept of a winter or early spring training camp in the sunshine. The cross bikes did great in this terrain, the two sets of tires were nice but not really necessary.

Fall mountain biking haiku

2008-12-01T12:51:00.000-08:00

Cross season is over for me. It was fun, but I'm tired of racing for a while. Time for a short break then start training for the spring racing season and my goal for the year, Race Across Oregon, solo.

I have been doing most of my rides for the past couple of weeks in the Macdonald forest, solo, with friends and this weekend with my son Danny. It was a glorius fall, warm weather until the end of November. Winter came late, but it looks like it's almost here.

Copper colored leaves
Blanket the muddy trail like
Bran flakes for the earth

Rocky Mountain 1200 Ride Report

2008-08-11T15:52:00.000-07:00

The Rocky Mountain 1200 (RM 1200) held July 23-27 was my key objective for the ’08 season. It rose to the top of my list after I heard that my Rando riding buddies John “Kramer” Kramer and Dave “Ready to Ride” Rowe had selected it as their biggest ride for the year. It promised to be a tough ride with plenty of distance and climbing. My objective for the ride was to finish within 90 hours, with more sleep than PBP ’07 (>6 hours).

My training for the Rocky included a Super Randonneur series, a few long weekend back to back solo 100mi plus rides, The Mid Valley Bicycle Club’s Loop Tour with my family and the Death Ride. Carpooling north to the start at Kamloops British Columbia with Dave Rowe I felt ready for the ride. We got aligned on expectations and reviewed the ride plan I’d prepared. We ran into several other Randos when we arrived in Kamloops on Tuesday evening and settled down to wait for the start. Kamloops climbs up a hill side from a river junction, and the climate and fauna seemed a lot like the Columbia Plateau (Spokane). We had a whole day and filled the time with eating, sleeping, packing the drop bags and final prep of the bikes. The long day of waiting finally ended and we were ready for our 10pm Wednesday 7/23 start.

About 80 of the 100 riders elected to start at 10pm with a 90 hour limit, while the balance opted for a 4 am start and an 84 hour limit. We rolled out of town with the 90 hour group just at sunset. It was a warm clear night, and there was minimal conversation as the group strung out on the road. The 4 lane highway out of town eventually narrowed to two lanes, with occasional semi and other traffic. BC is big and the part we were in was pretty empty, so the semis flew down the highway. At one point we went through a narrow twisting canyon with poor shoulders. We came upon a rock slide that spilled onto the shoulder and smelled fresh burning rubber from a semi that had locked its’ brakes. We saw a bicyclist at the side of the road, but he looked OK, just regaining his composure, so we pushed hard to get out of the chokepoint before the next semi came along.

We kept a fast pace to the first control, and arrived at Clearwater at 2:43am, along with many other riders. After a quick stop we were on our way again. We were way ahead of my projected pace, partly due to the terrain being a gentle uphill river grade, with not many hills. It was a beautiful clear evening that was quite cold when we saw a shooting star just ahead of us. At dawn we hooked up with a line of riders and kept a very fast pace to the next control, Blue River at 229 km, 7:12 am. Dave, John and I were using Hammer’s Perpetuum liquid food, so we quickly refilled our bottles and left almost all the 90 hour riders behind us while they waited for breakfast service from one waitress and one cook at the truck stop. After that control, we were at the front of the pack. That meant for the rest of the ride the people at the controls were very glad to see us and we got first dibs on food, showers and sleeping spots.

We continued uphill river grade for most of the rest of the day. We were cruising, but not suffering and all three of us set personal best times for 200km, 300km, and 400km. Short stops at the controls was part of the reason for our rapid progress, along with a moderate tailwind and a steady uphill river grade without many hills.

Before Valemount, we saw our first bear of the trip. A large black bear crossed the highway about 75 yards ahead of us. He was sleek and ran with a fluid motion across the road and directly into the woods. From Valemount we started into the Rockies and the incredible views. We rode directly towards Mt Robson (see picture) and then turned right (south). We departed from the river and climbed the Tete Jaune pass. At the top of the pass we crossed the Northern Continental divide into territory where water flows to Hudson Bay and eventually the Arctic Ocean. We caught up with our first drop bags at Jasper and decided to shower, sleep and eat a couple of meals of real food. It was before 5 and we’d covered more than a third of the distance already and were way ahead of our plan. We planned 5 hours total off the bike and I got a solid three hours of sleep. John wasn’t so lucky and wasn’t able to sleep in the stuffy church basement. He rolled out slightly ahead of us in the twilight, and we figured we’d catch him on the climb to Beauty Creek. We rode along and talked to a couple of Canadians, Dan and Mike from Alberta. They’d taken more time at the controls and consequently hadn’t slept yet, while Dave and I were refreshed from our break. We pulled John back into sight and then let him go again when Dave and I stopped to put on all our warm clothes. We pulled in to Beauty Creek at 2:37 am just as Sophie Matter was leaving. We’d ridden with her off and on for the first day, but she had continued to Beauty Creek while we slept at Jasper. Now she was just leaving that control as we arrived. She was traveling lighter and was definitely stronger. She did the Icefields at 3 am (it was 37c) with a windbreaker. Her persistence paid off and she set a new women’s course record of 64:44. We had pancakes with Nutella and a half hour power nap in individual bunks. It was the best sleep of the trip and we were back on the road an hour after we rolled in. We were comfortable with every piece of wool clothing we had plus all our raingear on. The sky was brightening as we climbed away from Beauty Creek, past the Columbia Icefields and up to Sunwapta Pass. It was the perfect time of day for the climb. It was plenty cool for the ascent, but we still had to remove clothes as we overheated. The sky brightened with the mountains gradually being revealed, first as black shapes with the glaciers visible in the starlight, then the size of the mountains became more obvious in the gray light of dawn, and finally the sun gilded the tops of the mountains across the valley. We encountered a mountain goat on the way up the pass, but very little traffic because we crested the pass about 6 am. All our clothes came back on for the long cold descent to the Crossing Restaurant. A quick bite (the first busload of tourists showed up just as we were leaving, so there wasn’t a queue) and we were on our way to the next pass. Bow Pass was a long and not very steep climb, followed by a long gradual descent through Banff Park to Lake Louise. This whole section we had spectacular mountains on both sides of us. By the time we reached the Lake Louise control it was noon and quite warm so we had some watermelon and a break before doing the quick out and back to Castle Rock. Coming back into Lake Louise John was out of sight off the front, and we weren’t sure whether he’d stopped again at the control; after a short wait we decided he was still ahead and Dave and I proceeded west on the TransCanada highway. It's a two to four lane highway with lots of traffic because it’s the main road from BC to the rest of Canada.

Kicking Horse Pass was on the route sheet after Castle Junction with an altitude of 1700m. We expected to climb to the pass, but didn't realize we were already at 1600m. We only climbed a little and came to the top unexpectedly. It was 5 on a Friday afternoon and there was plenty of traffic. Coming over the top the shoulder, which was already narrow got much worse and we were faced with an unexpected 7% 10 km descent with the semis winding up to pass us. The road was carved into the side of the gorge of the Kicking Horse River. On our right was a foot of broken pavement for the shoulder, a guardrail with occasional gaps and a thousand foot drop down the cliff. Basically we had to fight the semis for the lane on the downhill while pushing our speed up. I saw my maximum heart rate for the trip on the descent, and not because of exertion.

At the bottom of the descent we stopped at a rest area to get our nerves back and ran into a guy who said that the descent into Golden was worse. Another big descent, but we'd be on the inside against the cliff wall, the road was two lanes, double yellow most of the way with no shoulder, it was twistier and there was an uphill halfway through the descent. He recommended taking the lane ahead of a semi. It sounded like a good idea so we thought about how to do it and survive on the next 50km of marginal riding along the shoulder. At the truck brake check area before the descent into Golden, we approached a semi driver and Dave talked him into giving us a hand. He came up behind us on the descent and blocked traffic. When it opened up temporarily to two lanes he left us on our own and then blocked again for us on the narrow part of the uphill. Since he was blocking traffic we went all out to minimize the disruption. It was another peak heart rate section, but the semi helped make it a little safer and less terrifying.

At Golden at 19:20 we caught our second drop bags and also caught back up to John. We were way ahead of schedule, and decided to eat (dinner and breakfast), shower and sleep again. Dave’s knee was bothering him, so he needed a rest and we hoped that riding the TransCanada would be more pleasant in the dark. After another three hours of sleep we were back on the road at 12:30 am. The trucks were still on the road but they could see us for a long way with our flashing red lights, and there wasn’t much oncoming traffic so they could use the opposite lane and give us plenty of room. We missed some scenery, but our timing worked out so that it was dawn as we came through Canada’s Glacier National Park. It was another beautiful dawn in the high mountains. We climbed up Roger’s pass in the very early morning, just after dawn. It was the last significant pass of the Rockies so I plugged in my iPod and cranked up the hill. There were 5 tunnels (snow sheds) on the climb, so the challenge was to time my transits through the tunnels so I wasn’t in one at the same time as a semi or an RV. We regrouped at the top and had a power nap in the foyer of the resort.

After the top of Rogers Pass it was a very long gradual descent to Revelstoke. John was sleepy so we stopped at a camping resort and had a nap on some picnic tables until a light rain woke us up. We only had rain gear on for a half hour, just enough to be able to say that we used every piece of gear we brought along on the ride. It was Saturday morning and the traffic on the TransCanada kept building. With lots of RVs, trucks with boats and plenty of semis on a (mostly) two lane highway it wasn’t very pleasant. We were coming out of the mountains, and the spectacular scenery was behind us. This was the least fun part of the ride, and we just needed to keep pedaling through it. After a long day in the saddle, we finally arrived at Enderby at 14:35. The temperature was quite high (my bike computer said 103 in the sun). Dave needed to ice his knees, so John and I had power naps. When Dave was ready to go, we had a discussion about slowing down the pace to finish together, or just leaving Dave to finish on his own. We were well ahead of our original plan, and even at a slower pace we’d have still have personal best times, so we decided to slow down and drag Dave in. The whole rando dichotomy of race vs ride was really clear. Kramer has a foot in the "race" camp, is focused on getting medals and hardware and is really more comfortable riding solo. Dave has a triathlete's vision of competing with himself, which is a modified "race" focus. For me, it's a break from racing, but I'm willing work hard as a domestique to support the other guy's objectives and to ride with them. I probably could've gone faster solo than riding with my buddies, but why? I did the SIR 400K about half solo, and it wasn't as much fun.

It was a pretty short leg to the Salmon Arm control, which we arrived at just before 5 pm. We could smell the barn after 1100 out of 1200 km and the people at the control said we only had 5 hills left to the finish. We’d slowed down, but were still way ahead of my original plan. It looked like we’d be into Kamloops a day early, so John called the hotel to advance our hotel reservation and found that we needed to pick up the key before 11 pm when the front desk closed. We had a meal and than rolled out, a screaming downhill through Salmon Arm to the river that lead to Kamloops. The highway improved, with wider shoulders. Traffic also decreased as the evening wore on. We rolled through the evening with occasional stops for Dave’s knee to recover. I did math in my head to stay awake and revised our ETA as we rolled along. First I was shooting for a 70 hour total (a RAAM qualifying time), then 72 hours (a nice round number). Eventually it became clear that at our current pace we’d miss the 11pm target at the hotel, so John volunteered to push in and get the room key and I volunteered to stay with Dave. John disappeared into the dusk with 70km to go. My new tentative target was to get in before midnight (74 hours). The highway was rolling along next to a set of busy railroad tracks and Dave and I rolled through the dusk and into darkness. I kept Dave in sight in my mirror, and he had my tail light to focus on. It was a surreal segment of the ride, with noise from the freight trains roaring by on one side and the semis passing us on the other. I cranked up the iPod and just enjoyed the ride. We could see the glow in the sky from Kamloops for the final 40km, and rolled through an industrial landscape as we came into town. Eventually, it became clear that we were actually in town and then the control came into sight. We rolled in at 11:52, with a total time of 73:52. It was the fastest 1200k we’d ever done and we celebrated with a beer before heading to the hotel.

We slept in the next morning, then had a large breakfast, a big lunch, spent the afternoon at the Kamloops aquatic center and went to the banquet. After another night of sleep we headed back to the states.
On the way back, Dave and I talked about goals for ’09. There are lots of possibilities but I haven't settled on any. I'm leaning toward doing Race Across Oregon solo (it really is a race) plus a Super Randonneur series and a 1200K. Possibilities are London-Edinburgh-London (1500K, but might be very expensive); the Gold Rush 1200K (near Susanville, cheapest and least vacation time, the downside is that it'll probably be very hot) or the new Granite Anvil 1200K in Ontario, Canada (new route, good roads).

Rocky Mountain 1200

2008-08-01T08:35:00.000-07:00

Looping in the Wallowas

2008-07-01T13:39:00.000-07:00

The Mid Valley Bicycle Club puts on a loop tour for their members every year. Volunteers plan the route and make arrangements and then it is run twice, in June and late July. It started more than twenty years ago as a fully loaded tour, but has evolved to the point where about half the people have their camping gear sagged. The June tour is balanced toward adults and teenagers while the July tour includes a lot more young kids. About twenty five riders and three sag drivers did the June tour. The tour started Saturday, 6/21 and finished up Sunday 6/29. The route this year was around and through the Wallowa and Blue Mountains. It started in Pendleton, the first night was at a school in Weston; Over Tollgate pass to Minam campground; via Enterprise and Joseph to Wallowa Lake State Park; over another pass to Ollocote campground; another pass and a detour to the edge of Hell’s Canyon then a long downhill to Halfway; through the desert to Baker City; into the Blue Mountains past Sumpter and Granite to North Fork (of the John Day River) Campground; yet another pass to Lehman Hot springs; and then over Battle mountain and back to Pendleton.

This year’s tour was characterized by excellent weather; a severe T-storm almost blew the Eureka tents down the first night, after that it was beautiful; nights down to the 30's in the mountains and 50's in the desert; cool mornings; hot afternoons into the 80's; 100 on the last day into Pendleton. We used all our clothes except the rain gear.

The kids did great. They didn't have much time to train so they sagged; Katy was on the tandem with me; Benny and Danny were on their own bikes, relatively unloaded; Ted was on my cross bike cause it had the lowest gears (with a compact-34x27). Ted is uncoordinated and didn't learn to ride as a kid. He doubled his total bicycling time on this ride and only crashed the first three days in a row, (no blood, no foul). He was slowest (of the Ahlvins) up all the hills, but did EFI. I was nervous about him descending but stationed one of the boys behind him and he did OK. He did ride over a snake when he couldn't dodge it like the rest of the guys in the paceline. By the last day he could hang in a paceline with the tandem in front; we averaged >18mph into Pendleton despite a mountain and headwind. For the other kids it was a vacation, for Teddy it was a huge accomplishment.

Linda drove the sag wagon (Element with rocket launcher) because it was a chance to share a family vacation. She did well, but it's a pretty boring job. She finished "Great Expectations", 1000 pages of fine print, while she was sagging. She enjoys cooking and camping and since all our stuff was allocated to our own car she brought a camp kitchen, including a Dutch Oven. If you're going to sag, sag.

The rest of the riders were fun to hang around with (generally, usually).

Some notes for the riders on the second tour: Cold Pop is out of business; the Hot Springs pool hasn't been cleaned in six years; the mountains are the same as when the club last did this route in 2002. Katy and I on the tandem (and Danny tucked in drafting) had a maximum speed of 47 mph and change.

Some of the old people are saying it might be their last loop tour; with our kids getting their own lives, this might be the last one the whole Ahlvin family does together. It was a great ride.

SIR Four Passes 600K

2008-06-16T07:59:00.000-07:00

The Seattle International Randonnoeur’s Four Passes 600K has been covered by John Kramer in his blog at http://randobiker.blogspot.com/2008/06/four-passes-ride-report.html

Here’s my report on the ride and some reflections about bicycling and the price of gas. On the way up Kramer was dozing in the backseat and Dave and I were talking about the implications of $4, then $6 then $8 gasoline. For Yuppie bike riders like us, it doesn’t look too bad. We both commute alternatively to our lucrative jobs. I can go a week and only use the car on the weekend to drive to a brevet or race. For me, the personal impact will be a significant impact in a very small percentage of my cash flow. If I can afford expensive bikes for my hobby/lifestyle, I can afford to spend more for gas to drive to an event. Perhaps there’d be a little more push to carpool to the races and brevets, but not real suffering.

A bigger positive personal impact will be getting some of the yahoos off the roads. As I’ve extended my distance cycling ability I’ve ended up riding more in the rural/urban transition zones. This year I’ve ridden a couple of times into and across Portland and in the exurbs of Seattle and have noticed a lot more jerks. There seem to be a lot of angry twenty-somethings in loud jacked up pickup trucks on the road. Both Dave and I commented on how much more aggressive drivers get as you get closer to the urban areas. Maybe it’s that they have less time to spare for courtesy, or maybe the time in traffic makes them perpetually angry. The biker’s answer to them as they roar by and shout “get off the road” is a silent “just wait for $8 a gallon gasoline, you’ll be walking.”

The Four Passes 600K was epic. A steep climb after the start spread out the group and then Dave got a flat. I stayed with him to help fix it and Kramer kept rolling in anticipation of hills to come. As we fixed the flat (twice) the balance of the riders rolled past us. The flat pushed us all the way to the back of the group. An hour into the ride we were DFL. Then the rain started. We slowly caught the slower riders and rolled back up toward the middle of the stream. The flat let us ride with and chat with some riders we don’t often see on a ride. After a long chase we finally caught Kramer and rolled with him for the rest of the ride. The three of us were using Perpetuum liquid food, so our control and food stops were very short and we passed groups of Randos at every control. Steven’s pass was a steady climb in rain and increasing wind. My new booties didn’t pass the test. At the top I put on all my clothes but the first part of the descent was still very cold. We rolled out on the Wenatchee River with a tailwind and patches of blue sky. The weather warmed up as we headed east along the roaring river. The high water made a great show and we rolled along easily taking pictures and videos. Somebody said it was like vicarious whitewater rafting.

Blewett was a long steady uphill, not too steep. The descent was cool in the shade.

We turned towards Ellensburg and out of the trees and the wind took over as the central character of the ride. We had a 35 mph tail-cross wind with gusts to 45. It was a wild ride, with us feeling every upwind detail of the terrain. We were able to coast uphill at 20mph.

Eventually, we turned the corner and headed south with a strong crosswind. It wasn’t too bad because we entered the scenic Yakima River Canyon. It was early evening with long shadows as we rolled along the river, sheltered by the wind. The road climbed up the canyon wall a couple of spots and we were halfway up the wall when we startled a Golden Eagle along the side of the road. We were only twenty feet away as he swooped out over the canyon to get some flying speed and then hooked back across the road about 25 yards ahead of us. He was angling across the road so it was easy to see that his wingspan was about a lane. He landed back on the sidehill above us and immediately disappeared in the brush.

After we exited the canyon, we set up for night riding and turned the corner back east. The wind was still strong and gusty but now it was a headwind as we climbed the approach to White Pass. Slow progress as we calculated and recalculated our arrival time. We refueled at the very welcome “secret” control and eventually reached the overnight stop before 2 AM. We had food, showers, three hours of sleep in real beds and were ready to finish the climb up White Pass at 6AM. It was a brilliant cool morning and a wonderful climb to the pass.

The descent was steep, fast and cold. Hot coffee and blankets at the control allowed us to get warm again before the uphill roll to the base of Cayuse. The day was getting warmer, so I stripped down to just shorts and a jersey for the climb. It was the last pass and I was feeling good so I pushed hard and caught and passed about eight Randos on the climb. Several had been keeping a constant gap on us since the start, but there were also a few that were ahead of us because they’d skipped sleeping the night before. That’s the hard way to make time. At the top I put all my clothes back on for the descent, regrouped with Kramer and Dave and then we bombed down the hill. It’s the last portion of the Ramrod course, so the descent was familiar and so was the afternoon headwind. We kept the stops short at the last couple of controls and collected or passed other Randos at each one. The last portion of the ride featured another flat, caused by a roofing nail through one of my Panaracer Pasela Tourguards. They’re robust to glass and rocks, but the nail was too much. The last portion through Redmond and Issaquah was another reminder about how great it is to ride far away from cities. We pulled in at quarter to five in the afternoon, 35 hours and 45 minutes after the start. A great ride: enough suffering in the rain on the first day, the wind overnight and the 20K feet of climbing to make it an epic; enough sleep to keep it safe; beautiful scenery and good riding companions.

We grabbed a bite to eat and piled into Dave’s car for the drive back south. On the way back, Kramer talked about the impact his social worker wife sees of the higher gasoline prices on the rural poor. It’s a real hardship for people without much income and will cause them to make hard decisions, between food and travel and perhaps giving up their roots in the land.

At dinner tonight I discussed this with Linda and a couple of my sons, including the economics major. In Europe, particularly Spain (where we lived from ’95 to ’98) they’ve had $8/gallon gas for a long time, coupled with below replacement birth rates. There was news in the Spanish paper from time to time when services were withdrawn from villages that had slipped below the economically viable threshold. In Spain, it was a government decision to make a town into a ghost town. While bicycle touring across northern Spain a few years ago, I rode through several depopulated towns. I’ve also been to some ghost towns in the US, depopulated by economic changes. In the US, economic forces like $8/gallon gas will cause gradual declines, and individuals will each have to make their own decision when to move to a more economically sustainable place. The value of transport is changing relative to the cost of labor, and the economy will drive people to make hard decisions.
It’ll be wrenching and difficult for people to change, but in the end we’ll have higher density which will (the optimistic view) lead to more social connections. Alternative travel (walking and bicycling) will reduce obesity and be a natural fitness program. Hopefully there will be fewer jerks and more bicyclists on the road. But there will be ghost towns.

Banana Belt Race Report

2008-03-17T13:06:00.000-07:00

The Banana Belt race series finished on Sunday. BB#1 was the first hilly race of the season, and it was a conservative and defensive race. Four pretty easy laps then a windup on the last hill followed by a downhill sprint. My fitness was good enough to stay with the group to the end, but not good enough to contest the sprint. I finished 20th. All in all a boring race. It didn’t even really test my strengths of endurance, just my weakness of sprinting.

For BB#2, I worked out a tentative plan with Matt to attack after 3 and a half laps and open up the field to launch him for a long jump. It was a harder race from the start, and I did three or four attacks at the end, which burned me out before the final climb. I finished 28th. The tactics were not successful because the field was too fresh at the end, so Matt’s long jump didn’t work. It was a more interesting and fun race and more of a workout.

For BB#3, we included more allies in a new plan. I planned to keep the effort level high for the first lap and three quarters then launch a series of attacks to set up a break by Matt, Greg and a couple of other guys up the last big hill before the finish, with two laps to go. I was sacrificing my chances at the finish in order to enable a break by my teammate and allies. The plan worked perfectly. At the start I went to the front and pushed the pace up immediately. When other people pulled through I’d let them, but if they dropped the pace to the point where people could talk, I’d go back to the front and push the pace up again. I knew I could hold a TT effort for an hour, so I used my HR monitor to keep my effort at that level, not giving the field a chance to recover on the downhill sections. I’d planned to make my first attack from four wheels back immediately after the S turns onto the dam. On all the previous races, and the first lap on this race the group got strung out on the downhill and sharp corner onto the dam and then regrouped and ate and drank on the dam, the only level section of the whole course. I was in a perfect position on the downhill, and through the s turns, and just as the leaders sat up I attacked. I pushed the pace up over 30 on the dam, my teammate Pete took a short pull, and then I sat up to recover slightly on the corner off the dam. I let the Peleton catch me, slid back about 5 wheels, moved to the shoulder, got an ally and attacked again. It was a slight uphill now, and they caught me again after a 30 second effort. I drifted back slightly on the steeper portion of the hill and then when the pace slackened over the top I moved to the front for the downhill and around the corner with the bridge. It was the lead in to the last steep hill, so I kept the pace high downhill and attacked up the hill. I knew this was my last attack, so I went all out. Matt told me later that the pack went wild with this attack, every man for himself trying to catch me up the hill. I went too hard to sustain the effort all the way to the top, so I drifted toward the shoulder as the Peleton started to swallow me up. I was on the white line as Matt and Greg started their breakaway on the shoulder from 10 wheels back. Everything had gone exactly according to the plan up to this point, but Matt grazed my handlebar as he was coming by. It turned my wheel 90 degrees, and I immediately went over the handlebars. I crashed hard on my hip, shoulder, elbow, knee and , with a half second delay my helmet smacked the ground. The group continued up the hill and out of sight as I picked myself up. No road rash because I was going uphill and slowing down, but plenty of bruises. As I slowly pedaled toward the finish line to DNF, somebody from our group that had been dropped (because I’d forced the pace) passed me and said “It sucks to be off the back doesn’t it?” I don’t think he recognized me.

The break I’d facilitated got away, but Matt wasn’t quite able to bridge up, thwarted by somebody who sat on his wheel and wouldn’t work. Our ally, Greg, stayed away and ended up with 3 and a half minutes on the field. The rest of the break members eventually got swallowed back up by the Peleton. Matt said the field was really tired by the end of the race, due to the high initial pace, the attacks and chasing the break. It was great to see the tactics pay off; it would have been even better if my sacrifice had been a few positions in the race and not a pound of flesh, and if my teammate would have been able to capitalize.

Spring preview

2008-02-19T09:47:00.000-08:00

Spring came for the President’s Day weekend. It’s been cool in the mornings and warmer in the afternoons. All the way up to 60 on Monday afternoon.

The warm weather was just in time for the Cherry Pie Road Race. It’s a drag to ride in the peleton in the rain, so the sunny weather for the first road race of the season was especially welcome. It was a beautiful day and I felt good about the way I rode the race. I’m feeling more comfortable moving around the pack and rode most of the race exactly where I wanted to be, in the front 10 racers. There’s a good view, odds are crashes will be behind you, if you have to fade on the hills you won’t get spit out the back. My fitness allowed me to stay there all the way up to the final climb, where I faded on the uphill finish to place 20th out of 60 in the Masters 4/5 field. An OK early season result, on a glorious day for a bike race.

Monday was an even better day for a ride. Linda and I stayed in McMinnville Sunday night and I was planning on riding home. Luckily the wind was from the Northeast (cross- tailwind) for the one way ride. I found a wonderful stretch of road from Lafayette Highway to Amity. The picture above is between Amity and Perrydale, another one of my favorite areas to ride. I made the decision in Monmouth to take go via King’s Valley for some bonus miles and hills. The direct route home from Monmouth would have been 20 miles and mostly flat; the long way ended up more miles and plenty of hills. I used the whole day up riding and by the time I got to Corvallis it was already starting to get cooler. The rain is expected back on Tuesday, for at least a few more weeks of Oregon winter.

2008-02-05T09:57:00.000-08:00

2008-02-05T09:51:00.000-08:00

Winter has stayed in the Wilamette Valley for the past few weeks. I’ve been commuting despite the snow and ice. A big part of the reason is the studded snow tires on my bike.

Snow tire haiku:
Hakkapelita
Snow and ice studded monsters
Take me safely home

Winter has come to Corvallis

2007-12-26T20:00:00.000-08:00

The weather this morning was icy again, with snow in the hills. I wanted to get up into the snow, so I selected the mountain bike. A thin layer of ice had been deposited as sleet overnight, but it didn’t look too bad out the window at home. A few blocks into the ride I was having doubts about my bicycle selection. The mountain bike tires crunched through the frozen sleet, as I tentatively made my way along the paved portion of my route. The pavement ended as I went into the forest along Oak Creek, climbing towards Dimple Hill. As I climbed the snow on the ground got deeper and I left the first set of tracks all the way to the top. At the top of Dimple Hill (see picture) I was in the snow clouds and there were a couple of inches of snow. It was smooth going on the slight downhill traverse to the Lewisburg Saddle, but then the snow intensified for the return trip. As I got back to Dimple Hill, the sun came out and the snow in the air looked like diamond dust. A fast downhill brought me back out at Oak Creek, and the ice on the pavement had completely melted in the bright sunshine.

Winter mountain biking haiku:

Crunchy dark ice-mud
Covered in feathery snow;
Must pedal downhill

2007-10-24T13:14:00.000-07:00

I took the long way home yesterday. I managed to leave work by quarter to five, unusually early for this phase of the project. It was a clear and unseasonably warm day, just begging for a bike ride. A winter weight long sleeve jersey and tights were required for the morning commute, but on the way uphill into MacDonald forest the afternoon sun was so warm I overheated in shorts and a jersey. I climbed Upper Dan’s trail to the top of Dimple hill and was on top of the world exactly one hour after leaving work. The Willamette valley was spread out below me in the late afternoon sun and snow covered Mt Jefferson was visible 70 miles away.

I started back down the trail and then the gravel spur connecting to 600 road. The road was a golden tunnel, with the sun low on the horizon to my left filtering through the alder leaves like a horizontal spotlight. It was a long straight downhill, and my shadow was projected on the hillside to my right, keeping up as I accelerated down the hill. After a minute the sun was below the horizon and I was back in a darkening green tunnel. A long cold gravel downhill lead out to the pavement and civilization. There was a clear view of the sky on Oak Creek road, with an almost full moon in a cloudless blue sky. The twilight was plenty bright to ride in, especially when I took the bike path around Bald Hill and was completely out of the trees. There was another beautiful view across the hay field towards the Benton County fair. The field was a smooth vibrant green six inch deep green shag carpet under a dark blue sky. I rolled into my driveway just as it was getting dark.

Fall mountain biking haiku:
Sunny afternoon
Tacky trail with muddy spots
They will be ice soon

2007-10-15T19:34:00.000-07:00

Another beautiful weekend for bicycling, it could be the last nice day before winter. That excuse for a bike ride was used Saturday, Sunday and could have been used tonight on the ride home. This is the time of year when the nice days are precious and every one should be spent on a bicycle.

Saturday was an easy day; cloudy and cool in the morning. I went for a ride with the Mid Valley Bicycle Club and let the fast guys disappear in the distance while I spun along and chatted with my friend. He was taking it easy to peak for a duathlon, and I was taking it easy with Sunday’s race in mind. Funny how racing can blunt the competitive urges during training rides.

Sunday was another pre-dawn departure for a Cross Crusade Cyclocross race. The venue at Horning’s Hideout was above the valley fog, so it was already sunny for my 9:00 start. Parts of the course were difficult for me, particularly the long straight downhills across bumpy grass fields. The runups and climbs were more fun. The best part of all was the lead in and the barriers in front of the finish line. I got to pre-ride it a couple of times, and did it five times in the race. Each time was faster than the last, and every time I just had to grin.

Cyclocross haiku:
Fast rolling lead in
Up a steep man-high grass ramp;
Dismount, leap, leap, mount

Pretty and strong

2007-10-07T18:58:00.000-07:00

1078 Cyclocross Racers at Alpenrose

2007-10-07T18:48:00.000-07:00

Today was the first race of the ’07 Cross Crusade series. 1077 other racers plus quite a few spectators joined me at the Alpenrose Dairy and Velodrome in Hillsboro, Oregon for Cyclocross racing. Because of the Oregon weather (rainy and muddy, but not often icy or snowy) and the bicycle culture, this is one of the best places in the country for Cyclocross. There were six races, starting at 9:00 am. The Masters 50+ field was started first in the first race with the Beginner field started a couple minutes behind.

I left home in the dark at 6:15. Any day when you roll out of bed before dawn and then put on bike clothes is a good day. At the race site I greeted old friends and showed off my new Co-motion cross bike to the people in the Chris King tent. Chris King makes excellent headsets and hubs (many people say they’re simply the best). I equipped my white cross bike with pink Chris King components because they really are “pretty and strong”, and a cut of the profits go to breast cancer research.

I had a chance for a couple of warm up laps and then lined up at the start line with the other old farts. The start was on a wide paved road, uphill, leading to a couple of curves and then necking down to a gravel trail one bike wide. I lined up a little late, so I was near the back of the pack. Not the best place to be, because a cross race starts with a sprint from the start line, to establish a position at the front when the road narrows down to one rider wide: “the hole shot”. I’m not so interested in fighting for the hole shot because of the crashes that occasionally go with it. Cyclocross racing is definitely a race, but since it spreads out on the single track, it has an entirely different flavor from road racing. It quickly ends up being a race between you and the racer immediately ahead and the one immediately behind. The fields spread out and mingle, so after a few laps I have no idea whether I’m racing for first place or last place. I just know if I catch and pass the guy ahead, I’ve moved up one position. The race is for 40 minutes plus one lap by the leader, so you don’t even know for sure when the finish will be. During the race you’re entirely concentrated in the moment, focused on riding fast and smooth, and catching and passing the guy ahead. It has rained during the past couple of weeks, but was dry in the morning so the course was fast, sticky but not too rough. I felt good and had a good race, passing some masters and lapping a few beginners. The results will be posted in a few days, but it was a good day no matter where I placed.

2007-09-23T13:56:00.000-07:00

9/23/07

While riding today, I was reminded how bicycling is like flying aerobatics.

I met the mountain bike crew, Glen, Tim and Larry at the Circle Beanery. I had my cyclocross bike, they all had mountain bikes. No problem, I planned to ride with them uphill into the forest and then find a way home that fit my bike. But Glen brought a car and they planned a loop on the other side of the forest. After some discussion, I settled on hitching a ride in Glen’s car to their start point then a solo ride home via Poison Oak Road, etc. I’d never been up Poison Oak on the cross bike, but it sounded doable. Just a gravel road uphill.

I used to be a pilot. I got my flying license in ’83 and bought a plane with some partners in ’86. It was a Citabria 7ECA. Citabria is airbatic spelled backwards, and after rebuilding the airplane and some thorough inspections one of my partners and I got into competitive aerobatics. It involved a lot of practice and a few meets a year. Aerobatics is a lot like gymnastics, where you’re judged on executing the maneuvers as viewed by the judges. It was a blast, a combination of physics and kinesthetics. Imagine a roller coaster that you control in real time. The Citabria was adequate for the second lowest (Sportsman) class of aerobatics which involved positive or zero G maneuvers. The plane’s low power to weight ratio, high drag and non inverted systems (the engine doesn’t produce power under zero or negative G) actually made aerobatics more challenging than in a more capable airplane like a Pitts or an Extra.

After I left the mountain bikers, I headed toward Poison Oak on Tampico then Sulfur Springs. It was all good until I got to the point where Poison Oak turned off the paved road. There was a gate and then a gravel road that headed steeply uphill. After going around the gate, my legs quickly reminded me of yesterday’s ride. Heading up Poison Oak, I ran into a bunch of limits all at once. I had my heart rate monitor and watched my heart rate quickly climb to my maximum for that day, which was limited by my recovery time since yesterday. The cardiovascular limit, combined with recovery time and fitness set my power limit, and weight and physics controlled my speed up the hill, about 4 miles per hour. It was close to the stability limit. The cross bike has a 34-28 gear ratio, so at the low rpm set by my power limit, I was just about leg strength limited. But the ultimate limit was the coefficient of friction as the Ritchey Speedmax 38C’s at 60 PSI began to slip. I was just able to keep riding up the hill, at the edge of control, heart rate at max, low rpm, pushing each pedal stroke as hard as I could without spinning the wheels in the gravel. A little steeper and I’d be walking.

That’s when I thought of flying a split-s. It’s an aerobatic maneuver where you do a half roll followed by a half loop. Sounds easy, but what’s really happening is you’re starting with potential plus kinetic energy and then using the control forces of the airplane to change direction and exchange potential for kinetic energy. In the Citabria, you should enter at 60 mph, exactly and full throttle. That’s the minimum airspeed to be able to control the half roll and you don’t want extra kinetic energy at the bottom. You’ll finish the half roll upside down at about 40 mph and 0 G’s. It’s quiet, you’re light in the seat and the world fills the skylight overhead as you pull the throttle smoothly to idle. You’re trying to make a perfect half circle when viewed from the ground, so you gradually pull more G’s as the speed builds up, in order to keep the radius constant. The rate at which you add G’s is crucial; if you pull too hard to soon, the maneuver will look like an egg rather than a circle, or if you pull way too hard you can stall; if you don’t pull hard enough you’ll build up too much speed and either exceed the maximum speed of the aircraft (the speed limit is not a law; it’s an aircraft specification; if it’s exceeded the control surfaces could flutter and then bad things happen like the wings or tail fall off). Another limit is the engine redline. The throttle is pulled all the way back to idle, but as the airspeed builds up the air drives the propeller and the engine faster and faster. You’re committed at the start of the maneuver; kinetic plus potential energy is set by airspeed and altitude at the entry. Things get exciting halfway through. At the half way point, you’re pointed straight down, pulling G’s so you’re forced into your seat, the speed (and noise) is building and the engine is revving faster even though the throttle is at idle. The speed is past the maneuvering limit (120 mph), which means that a hard pull on the stick can exceed the structural limits of the aircraft (and potentially remove the wings). You just continue to pull (not too much, and continue to coordinate rudder) and fly the balance of the maneuver. At the bottom you find out how good you’ve flown the maneuver; if it’s well done you’re at maximum G’s (5.0 on the Citabria), redline airspeed (162 mph) and redline on the engine (2750 RPM). If it’ not done well, either it was an egg shaped split-s or you’ve exceeded one of the redlines and increased the probability of something bad happening. The beginning kinetic and potential energy also set the amount of altitude lost, so you needed to start with enough of one and not too much of the other or you’ll make a hole in the ground. In the split-s you’re at all the limits at once. It’s just like being on the edge of blowing up on a steep hill, or pushing a slippery off-camber corner in cyclocross. Putting a foot down on a hill, or sliding out on a muddy slope in cross has a lot less consequences than going past the limits in aerobatics. That’s okay with me. Bicycling is better for your health.

John Kramer and I at the finish of PBP

2007-09-10T20:56:00.000-07:00

Paris Brest Paris

2007-09-10T14:34:00.000-07:00

Ride Report

From the Randonneurs USA website:
“First run in 1891, the 1200-kilometer (750 miles) Paris-Brest-Paris, or "PBP" as it is commonly called, is a grueling test of human endurance and cycling ability. Organized every four years by the host Audax Club Parisien, the Paris-Brest-Paris Randonneurs is the oldest bicycling event still run on a regular basis on the open road. Beginning on the southern side of the French capital, it travels west 600 kilometers to the port city of Brest on the Atlantic Ocean and returns along the same route. Today's randonneur cyclists, while no longer riding the primitive machines used a hundred years ago over dirt roads or cobblestones, still have to face up to rough weather, endless hills, and pedaling around the clock. A 90-hour time limit ensures that only the hardiest randonneurs earn the prestigious PBP finisher's medal and have their name entered into the event's "Great Book" along with every other finisher going back to the very first PBP. To become a PBP ancien (or ancienne for the ladies) is to join a very elite group of cyclists who have successfully endured this mighty challenge. No longer a contest for professional racing cyclists (whose entry is now forbidden), PBP evolved into a timed randonnée or brevet for hard-riding amateurs during the middle part of the 20th century. The event is held in August every four years.”
Riders who want to participate in PBP must prove they are likely to finish the ride by completing a Series of Brevets in the calendar year of PBP, before the end of June. The Series consists of 200 km, 300 km, 400 km and 600 km Brevets. I completed the Series offered in Oregon this year. About half the qualifying kilometers were ridden in the rain, which turned out to be good preparation for PBP.

The bicycle I rode on PBP was my old Gunnar cyclocross/rainbike/commuter rebuilt and repurposed. It was stripped down to the frame, powder coated and wrapped in spirals of reflective tape for night riding. I installed fenders, front and rear lights, barend shifters and a Brooks leather saddle. Glen Peltier checked out the bike and helped me build some robust wheels after I cracked a rim in the 600km qualifier.

The weekend before leaving for France I used MVBC’s Covered Bridge Bicycle Tour as a shakedown ride. I packed my bike exactly as it would be in France, and left my house in the dark at 4:30 AM to ride to the volunteer breakfast before working at the registration. Then I rode the metric century and back home to pack the bike away.

I met a bunch of Pacific Northwest Randonneurs (recognizable by their bike ride t-shirts and bike boxes) at the airport in Seattle and we flew direct to Paris via Air France. Many Americans used the same travel agent, converged in Paris and stayed at the same hotels in Saint Quentin near the start of the ride. Bikes and bikers just took over. At my hotel a very large meeting room was used for bike assembly and to hold the bike boxes and luggage while we did the ride. There were always plenty of bike nuts to talk to as we got over our jet lag and prepared for the ride.

I call it a ride, although it could also be considered a race. There are several time limits (80, 84 or 90 hours) with separate starts. You select your start and that sets your time limit. All finishers within the time cut receive a medal, and are listed in the results alphabetically. It sounds very non-competitive, except the finish times are also listed next to each finisher’s name. In reality, it’s as competitive as you want it to be. My objective was to finish just short of 90 hours using all the time available to have as much sleep as possible.

John Kramer from Bingen, Washington and I had pretty compatible riding styles and objectives but he had much more experience on 1000km rides. I had better language skills. Together we made a pretty good team, so we started the ride together. The evening of Monday, 8/20/2007, we rode from our hotel to dinner and then to the start at the local high school. When we arrived around 8:30 PM the queue of riders was already completely around the track. It soon became clear we would be in a later wave of starters so we chatted with some Bulgarians and distributed some Oregon flag pins as we slowly worked our way around the track. We finally reached the front at around 11pm, just as it started to drizzle. The rain increased in intensity and the rain gear came out, got put away and finally got put on permanently as we reached the front. Our start delay would be credited to us at the end of the ride. We queued again at the start line to listen to the instructions and then some speeches from the mayor, club president, etc. There was a huge crowd of spectators and they were enthusiastic despite the light rain that was falling. At last the gun went off and we rolled across the starting line at about 11:10 PM.

We cruised out of town with a police escort and people at the intersections to stop traffic and wave us through. The stories of being in a stream of lights stretching to the horizons are true. Looking ahead it was all red lights and in the mirror all white headlights. The speed out of town was steady, with groups forming and re-forming. We quickly got onto the small roads. Route markings didn’t matter; there were always red tail lights ahead. We’d started at the very back of the 90 hour group and the 84 hour group wouldn’t start until 5 the next morning. We probably started 4500 people back from the front, with only a thousand behind us. Even as we passed people, we’d always have a crowd around us. The rain stopped after midnight. The terrain was a series of gentle hills, with a river or stream between each pair of hills. The villages were at the bridges, or the hill tops, or both. The ride reports that said there would be 30,000 feet of climbing. Very few of the hills were short enough to be “rollers”, they all required using low gears to get over them.

The French people by the side of the road were especially friendly. As we rolled through rural France at three in the morning we’d hear individuals and small groups cheering us on with “Bon courage”, “Bon route”, “Allez, allez”. In many of the village centers there would be a tent selling water and other drinks with a few Randos and a lot of locals partying. As we rolled through the night toward Mortagne au Perche the skies cleared and the stars came out. There was a tailwind, the hills were mild and we were making good time. The riders were still tightly grouped, so I could see a string of red tail lights that went for miles. I’d dried out from the initial rain at the start, things were going great and it promised to be a fun ride.

We stopped at the cafeteria at Mortagne to grab a quick bite to eat. Coming out of the cafeteria, the rain turned hard and steady. The hills also got longer and steeper. The climbs were not memorably difficult but the descents in the dark, with heavy rain and fogged glasses were exciting (in a terrifying way). It was easy to stay awake on the descents because of the attention required to stay on the road. The red tail lights ahead provided necessary guidance through the curves, but the world beyond the cone of light from the headlights was invisible.

The heavy rain came and went, but it was never dry long enough to allow me to completely dry out. Many of the riders rode the event on “racing” bikes without fenders and with marginal raingear, but most of the riders from the Pacific Northwest were better prepared for rain. I had full fenders with mudflaps on the bike, a Showers Pass rain jacket, wool long sleeve undershirt and wool socks. Luckily the temperature at night only got down to around 10C (50F), so hypothermia wasn’t an issue while we kept riding, and climbing.

We arrived at the first official control at Villaines la Juhel at 9:45 am. The controls were set up in high schools or community centers and all offered similar amenities; a restaurant (the school cafeteria), a bar, an infirmary, a dormitory (the school gym with mats on the floor), showers and a bike shop with repair facilities. Rain jackets were a hot item in the bike shops this year. The quality and cleanliness of the facilities varied considerably and we suffered from being late starters and towards the rear of the stream of riders. It became our practice at the controles to get our Brevet cards stamped as quickly as possible, get in the cafeteria queue immediately, eat a full meal (dessert first, soup, entrée and main course) and buy a large water bottle, refill water bottles and head out of town. All the time off the bikes in the queues was recovery time, but we longed for horizontal recovery time, actually sleeping. We kept a high but sustainable pace while on the bike, hustled through the controles and tried to build margin relative to the time cuts so that we could invest it in sleeping.

Our objective for the second night was to sleep at Loudeac, 450 km into the ride. We’d sent our drop bags with dry clothes and spare food and batteries ahead to Loudeac and planned to use them on the way out and back. We arrived at 11 pm, after being on the road for about 24 hours. We took care of the essentials, had a shower, changed into fresh dry clothes and slept under the eaves, out of the drizzle. When we woke up after an hour of sleep it had stopped raining but it was still dark and the roads were wet as we saddled up.

The hills between Loudeac and Brest were longer and steeper. There were lots of oncoming descending headlights as we climbed; the faster riders who had ridden straight through the night were already on their way back from Brest. There was a real risk of a head on collision if one of the descending riders were to doze off, so we watched them warily as we climbed. We rode steadily, stopping occasionally in a village for coffee or a bite to eat. I was carrying bike food, but ate very little of it since we were going at a low enough exertion level that we could digest “real” food, and it tasted way better. We perked up when the sun rose. We had breakfast and another hour of sleep at Carhaix, then back on the bikes for the last few hills on the way to Brest. After another meal at Commana it was mostly downhill with a strong headwind to Brest. We rolled down to the river and had a couple of celebratory photos with the famous suspension bridge in the background. The controle at Brest was located sadistically at the highest point in the city, and there was a real party atmosphere when we finally arrived. It was sunny and people were hanging out on the grass. We arrived about 2:15 pm, and the deadline at the controle was 6:45 pm, so we had about four and a half hours of margin at the halfway point. We made a quick stop at Brest and got on the road again, trying to get even more margin and invest it in sleep at Loudeac. A brisk tailwind and sunny weather sped us on the return trip. About this point I saw Dave Kamp, the other rider from Corvallis, riding outbound towards Brest. He did an 84 hour start so I did some math in my head and figured he was close to the time cut. I never saw him again until we returned to the US. He finished with one minute (no kidding) of margin.

We had crepes in Commana and they fuelled us into Carhaix. A quick meal stop and we got back on our bikes just as it began to rain heavily again. Intermittent heavy rain showers turned to a steady drizzle as night fell and we climbed the series of hills between Carhaix and Loudeac. The climbs weren’t bad, but they were punctuated by another series of terrifying downhills in the rain, in the dark. The stream of riders was pretty well spread out, but they were still useful as pathfinders down the hills. Many of the riders were getting dangerously sleep deprived after 48 hours on the road and it was on a descent in this leg that I saw an Italian fall asleep while descending and start to veer off the road. There weren’t cushioning blackberries like the Pacific Northwest, just a narrow shoulder then hard Breton granite. I was descending about 40kph and overtaking him on his left when he started to make gentle S turns on the road and then onto the shoulder. His compatriots were in a line behind him and yelled at him to wake up. He woke up and applied the brakes as I flashed past. I didn’t hear a crash so I assume he was able to stop. It was too rainy for ditch naps, so people had to tough it out to the next control even if they were sleep deprived.

We arrived in Loudeac at 2:30 am, checked in at the control and had a large meal. John had a hotel room reserved and luckily another Rando was checking out so I got a used room with a spare unused bed. I had a hot shower and a very welcome three hours of sleep in an actual bed. The proprietors opened the bar/restaurant especially for us and made breakfast to order; fried eggs and pasta, coffee, bread and jam and croissants. The cook was very friendly and we exchanged pins. We got lost walking back to the control and finally found it and got on the road at around 7:30 AM. The extended sleep stop put us behind the original intermediate control deadline, so we’d have to keep a steady pace to get back some margin relative to the end time. I used my precalculated cheat sheet of times and distances and figured we’d need 13.3 kph including stops, or to maintain 20 kph while on the bike with no more than 6 hours of off bike time. It was definitely doable if we didn’t “hit the wall”. John reminded me “when you hit the wall, you hit it hard”. So far the ride had gone pretty much according to plan, perhaps with more queueing time and less sleep time than expected, but with a good on-bike speed. We were going over terrain we’d ridden on the way out, and we knew the worst of the hills were behind us. Our objective was to beat the 20 kph on bike time and earn back some more sleep time.

It was raining as we left Loudeac, but it was already light and the weather improved through the day. It never really got warm and sunny enough to dry out my shoes but the rain jacket and wool undershirt kept my core warm and dry. We made good time on the moderate hills and our spirits were good. The weather was improving and we were well past the halfway point and confident of finishing.

We met a guy from Chicago with a “stop this endless war” bumper sticker and had a good chat about politics and philosophy. We rolled together into a village between Tinteniac and Fougeres and shared a pot of excellent soup and a pizza. We gave away more pins and had enough time in the bank to stop several times for coffee on the way to Fougeres. People had set up stands and sold or gave away for “donations” coffee, water and home made baked goods. There were often kids practicing their English and they appreciated the pins. Sometimes they would give out postcards and just ask for it to be mailed back with a stamp. The people were very friendly and seemed to be delighted to have international bicyclists cycling by their door. There were also lots of people just standing by the side of the road, watching the stream of bicyclists passing by and shouting encouragement “Bon courage”, “Bon route”, “Allez”. It was a fun ride in the short intervals when it wasn’t rainy and dark.

After Fougeres it got very dark and rained very hard. Many of the cyclists had stopped in the towns we passed through, or were ahead of us in Villaines, so we were riding without a lot of company. Route finding became more difficult without a stream of red tail lights to follow. This was a hard leg, with uncertainty about the route, declining temperature, and a hard rain. It was the third night on the road and we had to keep pushing on. The rain made ditch naps unappealing, so we just had to push forward. We arrived in Villaines la Juhel at 10:45 PM. The whole village seemed to be working at the control and there was a crowd shouting encouragement as we rolled into the bike parking. The encouragement helped a lot, but we also needed to get warm, refuel and get some rest. We had another large meal and then checked into the dormitory for an hour of sleep. I took off my wet shoes and socks and lay down on the mat for instant oblivion. When I was wakened an hour later, I told John “these dormitories are starting to smell really bad after three days”. I put my wet shoes and socks back on and we headed for our bikes. It felt like there were rocks in my shoes, but I just wanted to get started. Just out of the control, I stopped on a doorstep to take the rocks out of my shoes and discovered where the bad smell was coming from. Wet socks and shoes for three days had caused the soles of my feet to turn into white prunes and begin to rot. I put on dry wool socks, but had no choice but to put the wet shoes back on. It wasn’t raining and I hoped that my feet would dry out before there was permanent damage. For the rest of the ride, it felt like my shoes were lined with sharp rocks. The “no whining” button on the back of John’s Carradice bag encouraged me to ignore the blister on my butt, the aches and pains in every muscle and my sore feet and just tough it out. At this point in the ride, we started seeing people with Shermers neck (can’t hold their head up), people riding while standing (saddle sores), more and more people taking ditch naps or just sleeping while standing on their bikes. We were past the 1000km point and the stress was showing, but the end was also in sight. There were just 200km to go.

The day warmed up and there was actually a little sun shine. Our sleep at Villaines had used up our margin, so 20 kph and no more than an hour at each of the remaining controls would get us in just before the deadline. It didn’t seem like a lot of margin, so between Mortagne and Dreux I went to the front of the group and pushed the pace up. We got back on track and even had enough time for a short nap at Dreux.

The last leg from Dreux to Saint Quentin was a celebration. We were confident of the finish and just needed to keep a steady pace and suffer for four more hours. The organizers picked a beautiful route through wealthy suburbs of Paris, but they also managed to pick up some of the steepest hills of the whole ride. The scattered showers as we rolled into St Quentin were a fitting end to a difficult ride made even more difficult by the weather. There was a large crowd at the final roundabout on the way into the finish and they cheered and clapped. They were happy to see us and we were happy to be there. We chatted with other riders at the control while we waited to get our brevet cards stamped and collected.

The official time will eventually be published, but we ended up with about 88 hours used out of the 90 available. We took a few photos, grabbed our free drinks and headed home. The 5kms back to the hotel after stiffening up at the control were the most painful ones of the whole ride.

It was the longest and most difficult ride I’ve done. I always felt confident in finishing and the preparation and planning paid off. Riding with John Kramer also helped me to finish; his pacing and the wisdom he’d gained in multiple 1000km rides were both invaluable. The rain and cool weather increased the Did Not Finish (DNF) rate to 30%, and there were rumors of some serious injuries. I’m thankful for having completed the ride safely, for the opportunity to meet Randonneurs from all over the world, and especially for the opportunity to meet some of the friendly people of France.

My feet healed within a couple of days, I was back on the bike (riding slowly) after three days and the only lingering effect is some tingling in my fingers and toes that is slowly diminishing.