400km Pre-ride - 5/10

Randonneurs view maps differently. The map of Washington features mountain areas with few roads. Looking at the limited roads in these areas, randonneurs see brevets. No roads through the Olympic Mountains? Riding around them makes a great 600km brevet. Only four roads across the Cascades and one around them along the Columbia? Think of the possiblities. Over the North Cascades Highway and back on US-2 - 600km. Over US-2 and back on US-12 - another 600km. East along the Columbia and back on US-2 - 1000km. East along the Columbia and back on the North Cascades Highway - 1200km. Interstate 90 and US-2 - 400km.

The 400km Stevens Pass (US-2), Blewett Pass (US-97), and Snoqualmie Pass (I-90) loop is a classic SIR ride. I first rode a version of this route in 1998, my first year of randonneuring. The 3-pass loop engendered real trepidation. I rode the 200km on a lark. Thinking about the 300km, I recalled my one double century and thought the 300km would be no problem. (I was wrong, meeting the infamous Tahuya Hills for the first time, but I didn't realize this in advance). The 400k was a different matter. With zero experience riding over mountain passes, I was terrified of the idea of three - in one day, no less. Completing that 400km brought a real feeling of accomplishment and probably set the hook that reeled me into the sport.

Ten years later, some things have changed. We run the route counterclockwise now, to get riders off the passes before dark and to avoid a fear-inducing snow shed on westbound I-90. We've added some gratuitous hills at the end that push the climbing over 13,000 feet. In the past 10 years, I've been over countless mountain passes on my bicycle. But when the 3-pass 400km came back from a six-year absence, one thing was familiar - my trepidation. With the struggles in my cycling this year, I was unsure that I could make it over one pass, much less three in one day. Nonetheless, I headed out yesterday for the pre-ride of the 400km, which will be run next weekend by first-time SIR brevet organizers Brian Ohlmeier and Galvin Chow.

Unwilling to hold stronger riders back and preferring to struggle alone, I watched the other pre-riders go by in the first 10 miles of the Snoqualmie Pass climb. Thai Ngyuen and Erik Anderson rode derailleur-less - Ty on fixed, Erik on single. Geoff Swarts, one of our permanents coordinators, headed off too. I stayed ahead of fast guys Brian Ohlmeier and John Morris, but only for long enough for them to fix an early flat and sprint on ahead.

Most of the mental preparation for the route goes into preparing to climb the three mountain passes - Snoqualmie (3022ft), Blewett (4102 ft), and Stevens (4061ft). With nice weather and lighter than expect traffic, these climbs went well for me, if quite slowly. I reached the third summit, 220km into the ride, thirteen hours after the start - not exactly a blistering pace, but good enough to get the job done.

I was less well prepared mentally for the last 180km of the ride. The weather turned as a I came over Stevens, so I started this stretch with a cold, wet downhill. (Bonus wildlife sighting: Trying to figure out why a oncoming car had nearly stopped caused me to looked the wrong way; when I turned, I saw the black bear on my side of the road. I was within 25 feet or so when the smell of randonneur caused him to amble off in disgust.) Restored by a wonderful bowl of soup at the Sky Deli in Skykomish, I slogged more or less cheerfully through the rain to Sultan. Parts of this stretch are a bit nerve-wracking on a bicycle because of minimal or non-existent shoulder lanes, but yesterday the drivers were unfailingly kind. (It's not always so; I've had trash thrown at me here before). On hitting the steep hills north of Sultan in a spitting rain, however, my positive attitude started to flag. Every uphill was a struggle and the rain took the joy out of the downhills.

Somewhere along the way, I started to formulate a rescue plan for my attitude and my ride. I would take advantage of a noted weakness. Kent Peterson is fond of saying that cellphones make you weak. He casts this observation in general terms, but I'm pretty sure that he formulated this with a specific scenario in mind - a long ride, me, my cellphone, and a call to my lovely and tolerant wife. Chris has helped me euthanize a few ill-fated rides, but she has also saved a few. A replacement bike at the La Push control on a 600k in 1999 probably saved not only that ride, but also my first Paris-Brest-Paris.

The penultimate control of the 400km in Maltby is about 15km from our house. Chris could meet me there. I debated this idea up and down the hills of Dubuque road. Slog on and prove (to myself) my fortitude? Get help and improve the experience? Outside Snohomish, I attracted the attention (and pity) of local law enforcement while standing at the side of a shoulderless road in the pouring rain fixing a dropped chain. Their pity paved the way for me to give in to my own self-pity. At the 7-11 in Snohomish, I dried my hands and called home.

That was all it took. As I rolled into the control, I spotted Chris. She brought a warm dry car, towels, dry clothes, pizza, hot chocolate, and most importantly, lots of good cheer and encouragement. An hour later, I took off - warm, dry, fed, and cheered - into a now rainless night. One small withdrawal from the pride-in-self-sufficiency account; one great dividend in attitude adjustment. Sixty slow happy kilometers later, I cruised into the truck stop in North Bend. My finish time - 23:58 - was 5.5 hours slower than the last time we used this route and 3 hours slower than my first 3-pass 400km 10 years ago. But the feeling of accomplishment was just like I remembered it.

Crank it up

I've always felt that there is a major structural flaw in the calendar. Weeks come with five weekdays and only two weekend days rather than the other way around. But not always. I spent five days last weekend at the NW Crank cycling camp sponsored by the Seattle International Randonneurs. Much better.

Around 40 cyclists participated in some or all of the camp. Many, but not all, were SIR members. Terry Zmrhal created this event a couple years ago so we could flee the west-of-the-Cascades spring rain and ride in the sunshine. I had not previously attended, but had heard great reports. They were true - I enjoyed five days of good cycling and great company.

Numerous route options were provided each day. My choices involved no monster distances, but quite a lot of steep hills. Most of the routes took us along the river, then up a valley until it ended in a steep climb to a plateau or a U-turn back down. Many of the steep pitches were unpaved, but quite rideable on my rando Serotta.

Thursday, the longest day, was up past Palisades then up a steep gravel section to meet Sagebrush Flats Road from which we followed the Cascade 1200 route in reverse to Quincy and then up river back to Wenatchee with a climbing detour up around the airport at the end. 50 miles of glorious riding followed by 50 miles of unrelenting stiff headwind. I was barely making forward progress 5 or so miles from the end when I ran into the late-arriving Piepers, who towed me in with their good cheer.

Friday we crossed the river, rode downstream, headed up a canyon for a nice supported break, turned around when the road turned to gravel, and then did a lovely tour of the orchards of the Stemilt foothills. I passed on the bonus climb up to the Mission Ridge ski area, but still managed to find 5700 feet of climbing in about 60 miles.

Saturday, I opted for the "adventure" route. Sixty miles, with 20 miles of unpaved road and over 6300 feet of climbing. With the experience of the previous two days to gauge my relative climbing ability, I headed off a half hour before the others. Turning away from the river, the route climbed the unpaved Rock Island Grade road with 3.5 miles of gravel road at an average grade of 10%. I was happy just not to have to walk, although I did have to climb seated virtually the whole way because otherwise my unweighted rear wheel with road tires would just turn fruitlessly in the gravel. I waited about 15 minutes at the top for the main pack of riders. (Picture courtesy of Jim Rupert).
I probably shouldn't have waited, for I was soon left in the dust (and gravel) as the road continued up (and up) on the plain. But the group returned the favor outside Waterville before the climb past the Badger Mountain ski area and up to the top of Badger Mountain, where volunteers had another great rest stop waiting for us. With a few short uphill exceptions, the ride finished with a nearly 20 mile paved downhill back to town. Wheee!

The adventure ride on Saturday was the riding highlight of the camp and worth the price of admission. In the evening we had a banquet at a restaurant (Garlini's) owned by a local cyclist. The white elephant gift exchange after dinner offered many useless bike items cleared from many garages, along with an unfortunate photoshop of the local RBA onto a training wheel bike.
Sunday we rode to Lake Chelan up the Navarre Coulee. An easier day - less climbing and a nice tailwind back along the river. Monday most of the remaining riders drove to Leavenworth and did the Chumstick-Plain-Lake Wenatchee loop with a nice descent (marred by two flats) through the Tumwater canyon back to town.

All in all, an excellent five day weekend.

Sneaking one

On Sunday, at the corner of serendipity and wimpiness, I found a lovely ride. Strange spring weather plagued the Northwest this year. In March, SIR postponed its 300km ACP brevet due to ice and snow. (I missed the makeup on a beautiful day the following weekend). In addition to the postponed brevet, we also scheduled a new RUSA 300km brevet for May 2nd. I planned to ride the course this past weekend this past weekend in preparation for using a new route.

With a conflict on Saturday (an all-day retreat for the board of the Bicycle Alliance of Washington), I invited folks to join me on Sunday. The choice of Sunday was serendipitous - Saturday brought hail, sleet, and snow at sea level along the Hood Canal. A Saturday ride would have been somewhere between uncomfortable and downright dangerous. In Portland, Susan France postponed the Oregon 300km due to wintry conditions.

Faced with iffy weather for Sunday and in contravention of our self-cultivated hardy randonneur reputation, we prepared for an alternate ride - the 215km Hood Canal South permanent. Like the 300km, the permanent started from Bremerton. With permanent owner Geoff Swarts along for the ride, we opted for the wimpier choice at the Seattle ferry terminal. Peter Beeson and Geoff had prepared cards for the permanent and Geoff took our registration forms on the ferry. Bob Lagasca and David Harper were there too and RUSA and SIR treasurer Eric Vigoren joined us in Bremerton.

While it snowed and hailed back home, we had terrific weather for most of our ride. I rode the first third of the ride (to Hoodsport) with Geoff, behind a lead pair of Peter and Eric and a middle pair of Bob and David. North of Hoodsport, we found David fixing a flat and stopped to offer commentary. After that we rode in two groups of three, with Bob joining Peter and Eric and David riding with Geoff and me.

On a day of strange weather microcells, Geoff, David, and I enjoyed a charmed ride for 185km. A few raindrops and (I believe) a few snowflakes fell as we rode around the canal, but we mostly enjoyed nice, if cold, weather and an unexpectedly large amount of sunshine. The winds kept shifting and managed to be at our backs most of the day, changing directions just before we did. Just a glorious ride!

Only over the last 30km or so from Belfair did the weather turn on us, with colder temperatures and a pelting hail accompanying us much of the way to the finish. I found the hail more amusing than unpleasant, enjoying the crust of hail that decorated the exposed wool sleeves of my jersey and marveling at the odd texture of the hailstones that I caught in my mouth. On the ferry back, we relished the ride we had sneaked from winter's clutch and told our usual collection of old rando tall tales.

Fleche Fun

A recent thread on the randon mailing list pondered the question of whether randonneuring is "fun" or not. Can an endeavor with lots of struggling and striving be fun? Does the pursuit of "fun" lead to a casual attitude that makes DNFs more likely? Or maybe spending a day (or more) on a bicycle without a non-cycling care embodies the very essence of fun.

Twenty four hours of SIR's Fleche NW last weekend provided plenty of opportunity to consider this question. Out of shape and more than six months past my last ride over 150 miles, I struggled mightily with the hills and distance. With too few prior miles on the saddle, my backside hurt. After only cool NW riding this year, my system was surprised by temperatures nudging the 80s. True to form, I whined a lot. And I had fun. Lots of fun. Do I contradict myself? Very well, then, I contradict myself. Randonneuring contains multitudes.

A diverse team met in Port Hadlock for the start of our fleche route. Greg Cox, with whom I've done 3 PBPs and countless other rides, joined Amy Pieper on the Piepers' big yellow tandem. Rick Haight, who towed me in on the 2005 Cascade 1200, looked strong and more than ready for the first randonneur event of his seventh decade. Tom Martin, ER doc, swift cyclist, and second year randonneur, came armed with a supply of patience to ride with a slower team. Jon Muellner, with whom I've shared many miles including riding and begging for water together on the 2002 Rocky Mountain 1200, arrived from Port Townsend with his beautiful new Pereira bicycle sporting, among other deft touches, an integrated bell mount.

Our route took us across the Hood Canal bridge, where a bump dislodged one of my tailights directly under a tire of a following car, to the Kitsap Peninsula, where I had two flats (a mystery rear flat and a wire-induced front flat). We fixed my first flat and Tom's broken headlight near Bremerton and my second flat not long after. Happily those were all the mechanical issues for the ride, and they were all in the first 50 miles.

The pain and pleasure started in earnest after Bremerton. The old Belfair Valley Road offered up its usual great riding, interrupted only briefly by my second flat. Out of Belfair we rode along the Hood Canal as we have many times before, but this time we turned left and up for the climb to Mason Lake. A beautiful clear starry night and Tom's encouraging company offset the pain of the steep climb. As the temperature dropped, we arrived at Greg's cabin on the lake. A warm cabin, freshly baked muffins, and the cheerful presence of Mary and Megan (Greg's wife and daugther) warmed us right up.

Barely refreshed by an hour's nap, we headed back into the cold beautiful night. Coffee warmed cold fingers at the 24 hour convenience store/control in Shelton. We rode on to breakfast in Montesano. Along the way, as we crossed the hill between Kamilche and McCleary, the pre-dawn air warmed up by 10 degrees, a welcome auspice of a great weather day ahead.

The Beehive diner in Montesano served up a breakfast as warm and tasty as the dinner I had there on the 2007 fleche. A diner breakfast after 100+ miles of riding counts as fun. Slogging up the valley to Matlock after six months of too many good meals and not enough good miles might not be fun. Neither was feeling the need to inform my teammates that they might want to head on without me. Of course, my teammates would hear nothing of this. Emphasizing the team nature of the fleche and demonstrating the camaraderie that we randonneurs love to extol, Greg tells me that we're a team and will go on together. I think his exact words were "Don't be such a wuss. Let's go."

Abuse from Greg has been a constant of my randonneuring experience for a decade. To be fair, I try to repay this gift in kind as much as possible. With Greg's great storytelling and wicked humor along for the ride, I've spent many a mile in the saddle laughing like an idiot.

I've headed up 101 along the west side of the Hood Canal on my bike so often, I could probably do it in my sleep. Stoked by espresso from the Hoodsport Coffee Company, however, I didn't have to find out. Endless miserable hills with beautiful views along the canal preceded the Walker Pass climb, on which I felt great. Watching Greg & Amy descend the other side (with Amy now in front) was like watching a rocket take off. (I had to ask Robin later whether he had neglected to show his wife how to work the brakes.)

The relatively gentle section from Quilcene to Discovery Bay marked the low point of the day for me, but before long I found my teammates at Fat Smitty's in Discovery Bay. All but Tom, who had continued up the road. Happily we found him via cellphone in time for him to ride back over a big hill to meet us before the 22hour point of our ride.

The scenery and views on a beautiful day along Discovery Bay and Cape George to Port Townsend are nothing short of spectacular. Gratuitous climbs tempered the fun a bit, as did anticipating the abuse I'd get for choosing the hilliest route back into town. Finishing - at Jon's house - was all the more fun for the challenge of last 15 miles.

At Lanza's for dinner, we met Wayne's team and the Nussbaums' team for great food and more tall tales of this and other rides. As with so many of these adventures, the 2008 fleche was even more fun in retrospect. At brunch on Sunday, we heard the other teams' tales - fun was had by all.

Giving Back

Snow and ice postponed the SIR 300k brevet from 3/29 to this past Saturday. A prior commitment (political caucus) kept me off the roads for the rescheduled 300k. In retrospect, spending 16 hours on my bike would probably have been less grueling than the 10 hours spent in a local high school gym.

SIR had a non-riding event Sunday. Through the efforts of SIR member and PBP ancienne Amy Pieper and others, the club adopted a section of road along Lake Sammamish. Having proven our bona fides with the fall cleanup, the county put our name on the "Adopt-a-Road" sign in time for this weekend.


Yesterday, about a dozen club members showed up for our second cleanup of that section. Kent Peterson took this shot of the crew at work:


True to form for an SIR event, a good rain came along to soak us part way through the festivities. Thanks to all who helped.

A sorry note: Although most of the roadside trash appeared to have originated from passing cars, we did find empty gel packets and energy bar wrappers suggesting that we cyclists aren't always the best of citizens either. Let's put the empties back in our jersey pockets, ok?

Volunteer Benefits

Several advantages result from doing the pre-ride of the annual Greg Cox Chili Feed 200km brevet.

The Pre-Ride:

Greg has been hosting the 200k since 2000, the year after our first PBP. Over the years certain traditions have developed around the ride. One key tradition has developed for the volunteers’ pre-ride, which I’ve done on and off since 2001. Greg arranges for nice weather for the pre-ride to reward his volunteers and arranges for cold, wet weather for the brevet to challenge and toughen the riders, to make their tall tales more epic, and to increase the joy they will find in the bowl of warm chili at the end. Greg thinks of everything!

Ten of us participated on the pre-ride. For most of the day, Ward Beebe rode off ahead and Narayan K. rode behind the main group. The rest of us – Greg, Peter McKay, Bill Dussler, Rick Haight, Bob Brudvik, Ralph & Carol Nussbaum on tandem, and I – rode more or less together all day. The “less” in the “more or less” was yours truly, but with some catching up at controls and hilltop regroups we stayed together and finished together. It’s always fun to ride with Greg, Peter, and Bill – the four of us have ridden together countless times since our first PBP season in 1999. We laugh at the same shared stories over and over again, like geezers on a porch, and remind ourselves of the shared pleasure we derive from cycling away the miles.

For me, the ride was a struggle, but a joyful one. My bum ankle tolerated the ride well. (I now have some customized insoles that appear to stabilize and correct the structural problem). My lack of conditioning showed on most hills. I learned also that I'm a little out of practice on the basic mechanics of riding distance, including keeping myself fueled. Readily willing to attribute sluggishness to my lack of training, I didn't recognize a bonk for what it was. On the way to Enumclaw, the light of recognition came on. One 350 calorie slug of Ensure later, I rallied to enjoy the long stretch up to Greenwater. I passed a couple of riders along the way and found the others finishing their control stop. With a quick turnaround, I was able to enjoy the long downhill in the company of the others. Another great day on the bike!

Volunteering:

Ever since I first assisted on a brevet in my second year of riding, I have derived as much satisfaction from helping as I have from riding. Last weekend's 200km was no exception. At the start, Greg put me (along with Bob Brudvik and Allison Bailey) to work in the rain registering riders. No small task as about 100 riders showed up. Doing registration rewards with the chance to see old friends and meeting new riders. With the crowd, however, time to chat was scarce.

The first control is a mere 30km from the start at a small store. We expected a great degree of bunching of the riders and little need for the store's goodies, so Bob and I headed out to Brown's Point to sign cards. Noting the nasty weather and sipping hot coffee, we congratulated ourselves on the wisdom of doing the pre-ride. The first riders arrived quickly and the store opened late, so we were glad to have come out to keep things running smoothly for the riders.

After Brown's Point, we planned to hang out at the second control at the Black Diamond Bakery. With espresso and outrageously good pastries, the bakery is a bit of a cyclist Mecca. Although fairly confident that we would not catch the fastest riders, we assumed that we'd see most of the group there. We might have seen more, but without a cue sheet, I managed to get off course twice (on the same wrong road) along the way. In my defense, I should say that I was distracted by a large group of riders heading to the bakery along a different route.

Surrounded by cold wet riders eating great pastries, I succumbed to temptation, having blueberry turnover that was totally unjustified by any exertion but nonetheless delicious. Later came a chocolate chip cookie the size of a serving platter, but I shared that with several riders. (Really, I did). Bob and I had the chance to catch up with many riders as they refueled. After the last were in, we took two bedraggled DNFs back to Greg's house.

Chili Feed:

Best of all, doing the pre-ride allows us to spend all day at the Mary & Greg chili extravaganza. We arrived in time to help with preparations, so one might expect this to be under the previous heading about volunteering. However, my role here was charitably described by Mary Cox as "moral support."

Chris, Urs, and new randonneur Ian arrived before 2:30 and riders continued to show up for the next six hours. All were welcomed with cold drinks, hot chili, dry air, and friendly conversation. I overheard one soaking wet new rider in the garage on her phone telling a friend that "this was like the best day ever; they give you a map and a card to fill out; and then you ride all day." I had to agree - seeing a hundred happy randonneurs was like the best day ever.

The Accidental Permanent

I didn't intend to ride a permanent yesterday. Since September, my longest rides have been around 100km. I've been hoping that SIR's winter training series, with its increasing distances would help me work back to longer rides. My participation in those rides has been a little spotty. Last weekend (Feb 9), I skipped our Vashon Island ride to participate in the WA presidential caucuses. The combination of my speed, the distance, the start time, and the ferry rides made it impossible for me to do both. Instead, Kevin Humphries and I rode from Redmond to meet Kent Peterson and Matt Newlin in Issaquah. We explored some trails, new and old, from Issaquah to Carnation (with obligatory stop at Sandy's Espresso) before returning to Redmond.

This Saturday, I planned to join the SIR folks for the North Bend training ride. About halfway through my drive to the start, a nagging feeling set in that I had forgotten something. I pulled over and determined that I was without cycling shoes. Oops. No ride for me.

Recalling that riding buddy Wayne Methner was planning to ride a permanent on Sunday, I sent him an e-mail. To be honest, I was nervous about attempting a ride twice as long as any I had done in the last 4.5 months. On the other hand, the route starts 2 miles from my house, so I wouldn't forget my shoes on the bike ride to the start.

Good weather was forecast, with sunny skies and temperatures in the fifties - quite a gift for a February ride in the NW. The morning started cold, however, and I rode down the hill in a sub-freezing fog to meet Wayne at the coffee shop. The first indication of the beautiful day to come was the delicate frost on the wool sleeves of my jersey.

The coffee shop picked yesterday to open late, so Wayne and I stood outside in the cold waiting for the shop to open and for the other riders to arrive. Happily the doors soon opened and hot coffee flowed. We were joined by Matt Newlin, Bob Lagasca, Mike Richeson, Albert Meerscheidt, and Jennifer Chang. The group represented a wide range of randonneur experience, from Wayne who is starting his 11th season in randonneuring, to Jennifer who is contemplating her first. She came along, she said, to see if she could ride 200km. I didn't say so, but that was my motivation as well.

We rode in a group along the Sammamish Slough and Lake Sammamish to the first control in Issaquah. Out of the control, we hit our first substantial hill. As the hills would do all day, this one immediately spit me out the back. We regrouped over coffee at Sandy's in Carnation. The fog burned off as we headed along the Snoqualmie and Skykomish valleys to Sultan, treating us to spectacular snow covered mountain views. On Ben Howard Road, the hills again separated my from the group. Instead, bad music from the seventies kept me company. Andy Kim's "Rock Me Gently" proved to be a very persistent companion all day. The song's infectious good mood matched my own. My dismay at my conditioning was no match for the joy of doing a long ride again on a beautiful day.

I lost my riding buddies again just outside Sultan. I briefly caught a glimpse of Wayne walking his fixed gear up a monstrously steep section of Reiner Road, but he was walking faster than I was riding. Crisp clear air and nice views kept me company to the far point of the route on the Jordan River footbridge and back to the Granite Falls control. The unexpected but welcome sight of parked rando bikes greeted me at the control. I fueled quickly and left with the group.

The 60km back felt great. Despite tired legs, I knew I'd make it back in time. After a long layoff, this knowledge was invigorating and wonderfully reminiscent of my early experiences in the sport, when I didn't yet know what I could do. With the other riders stopped occasionally for roadside repairs, traffic lights, and generous regroups, I finished with the group. Twelve hours for 213km - nothing to write home about, but a very gratifying day (and night) nonetheless.

Things that just worked: my bike - no mechanical problems; my new Supernova LED generator light - incredible illumination on the road; my attitude - unfailingly positive and just happy to be out riding; my riding friends - as he has since 1998, Wayne again provided the support and companionship that has helped me to the end of many a ride; and my ankle - although a little sore today, it took the distance jump well.