Showing posts with label bicycling. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bicycling. Show all posts
Friday, September 7, 2012
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Respect the ride
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.
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.
Monday, January 19, 2009
Inversion Haiku
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
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
Saturday, January 17, 2009
Spring training
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.
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.
Monday, August 11, 2008
Rocky Mountain 1200 Ride Report
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).
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).
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
Looping in the Wallowas
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.
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.
Monday, June 16, 2008
SIR Four Passes 600K
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.
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.
Sunday, September 23, 2007
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.
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.
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