Mark's Rando Notes

1200k planning

2011-04-15T12:57:00.000-07:00

Today someone showed me a detailed spreadsheet for planning out a 1200km ride, complete with average speeds, control open/close times, sleep stops, and loads of other data. That set me to wonder why a data-hungry nerd like me has never been interested in using that sort of spreadsheet and to think about what I use instead.

Perhaps I fear that with too detailed a plan, I'll get overly concerned (especially when tired) about deviations from the plan and that the concern will do more damage to my ride than a lack of planning. Or maybe I just don't want to see just how slow I ride enshrined in Excel glory.

So for what it's worth (bring your own salt grains), here's my approach to a 1200km event (I'm up to 13 finishes):

Try to maintain 20kph (including stops) during the day.

This is easy to calculate, even when tired.

Keep stops short enough to keep on that schedule.
That gives me 6 hours in 24 for rest.

18 hours x 20kph = 360km or 24 hours of brevet time.
5 hours rest instead allows me to start with an hour in the bank.

Don't panic if falling behind.

I assume a shorter sleep break can fix.

Be cognizant of the 10 hours extra time on return.

Forgetting this can induce unnecessary panic (as it did on my DNF).

Ok to settle for 15kph (including stops) during days 3-4.
Anything better than the 20kph/15kph is gravy. Stop for ice cream.
Did I mention already? Don't panic.

Looking over this, I can see why I almost always finish in about the same time (83-87 hours). My very few shorter times have generally come when I've only had 2 sleep breaks instead of 3.

Fool

2010-12-11T13:20:00.000-08:00

Platzner Makes Fool out of Thomas in Media

Recently, in a (perhaps futile) effort to expand the appeal of the fringe sport of randonneuring, local club president Mark Thomas defended the sport against the charge that it was simply "cycling while sleep deprived." Mr. Thomas asserted to the Seattle PI that "sleep deprivation is not an inherent part of randonneuring." Article.

In a deliberate attempt to embarrass the current leadership, Joe Platzner of renegade website RandoLeaks published not one, but two, all night rides, ostensibly to celebrate an invented holiday he calls Festivus. With plans to have "stupid fun" by "riding all night," Mr. Platzner actually encourages sleep deprivation on December 18th and/or December 21st.

Even the mainstream media was forced to take note, with the Seattle PI now printing that sleep deprivation "is definitely an intentional part of randonneuring events." Retraction.

Worldwide reaction has been swift and derisive. Unable to defend itself in the court of public opinion, the SIR leadership has attempted to have RandoLeaks shut down and deprived of funding. Rumor has it, however, that this attempt has resulted in swift an furious retaliation, with hactivists shutting down Mr. Thomas's paypal account and preventing him from registering for future rides. It also appears that RandoLeaks has now raised vast sums through the sale of glasses ironically used for Mr. Thomas's drink of choice.

More as this story develops.

Ed note: Further research has uncovered evidence that Mr. Platzner's vendetta against Mr. Thomas started long ago. Poisoning?!?

Out Collecting

2010-11-05T20:46:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, I joined Alan Bell, Joe Platzner, and Ken Ward for a wonderful 200km permanent ride around Seattle. At a time of year when Seattle randonneurs can expect to ride in cold rain, the four of us instead enjoyed a gloriously warm and sunny day. At the finish, we celebrated Ken's successful completion of his R-12 quest and I happily collected another nice randonneuring memory.

My blog updates have been scarce since last summer, but not from any lack of riding. Although my motivation to write about randonneuring disappeared, my motivation to ride stayed strong as ever. In 2010, I've added quite a few gems to my collection of randonneur experiences. Looking back today, I see two grand randonnees, eleven other brevets, one populaire, and one fleche on my 2010 list of event finishes, matching exactly my totals for 2009. Along with a good collection of permanents, these made for a lot of nice days on the bike with good friends already this year. As is often the case for me, the standout additions to the collection in 2010 came from the longer rides.

In June, I traveled to Oregon for John Kramer's Oregon Blue Mountains 1000km brevet. I saw the OBM1000 as a rematch for his XTR600 that nearly did me in the year before. Getting shelled out of the back of the pack within the first 10 miles put an early dampener on my hope for a triumphant return to central Oregon. With cooler temperatures than 2009, however, I manage to ride myself back into the ride. As with my Scandinavian adventure in 2009, I felt better each day of the ride. By the third day, I was boasting on Facebook: "What else you got?! Clarno Climb? Bah! I killed it!" Although vicious headwinds turned the last 40 miles into a slogfest, I finished happily with Rick Blacker (SIR) and Karel Stroethoff (Montana) and the year's adventures were off to a great start.

July brought the opportunity to participate in the Hokkaido 1200, which would be the first RM 1200km brevet held in Asia. As a collector of rando doodads, I was quite eager to join this ride. It would give me the chance to be one of the first, if not the first, rider to earn an International Super Randoneur 1200 (4C) patch for collecting a 1200km ride from each of four different countries on four different continents. I had previously collected an ISR 1200 (3C) and an ISR 1200 (2C) and had a European and North American ride already collected towards this one.

Although not the most challenging or the most scenic 1200 in my collection, the Hokkaido 1200 may be the most unique. Some extraordinary help and generosity got me to the start line in Sapporo. David Thompson of Tokyo, whom I had met on his trip to Seattle in June to participate in the Cascade 1200, and his wife Tomoko rolled out the red carpet for us. Chris accompanied me to Japan and we had a lovely time touring Tokyo, Kyoto, and the Izu peninsula before she returned home and I headed north with David for the ride. I scarcely had to think about any logistics and could just show up and ride.

Before I had even left home, Toshio Muto, ride organizer, and Hiroshi Horikawa, my anglophone correspondent, had done everything possible to welcome me to the ride and to make me feel like an honored guest of Audax Japan Hokkaido. As it turned out, I was the sole rider from outside Japan. Despite the language barrier - my Japanese consisting solely of a vague ability to say hello or thank you while grinning enthusiastically - I felt immediately at home with the riders from AJH and elsewhere in Japan.

Careful work by the organizers and some advance GPS prep effort on my part kept me on course for the entire ride despite the mysterious (to me) cue sheet and indecipherable (to me) street signs. Staying fueled in a different culture proved to be no problem - great food was offered by the volunteers at the few manned controls, including the first octopus that I can recall consuming on a brevet. The other controls were at convenience stores (including the ubiquitous 7-11s) and I soon found a routine that worked for me - a coffee drink, a sports drink, water for the bottles, and onigiri. These seaweed-wrapped rice balls with mystery fillings (I couldn't read the labels) proved to be perfect ride food for me. I probably had at least 50 of them!

My friend Peter Donnan from Australia describes randonneuring as a sport where one can make up "lack of ability with lack of sleep." For various reasons, I only managed one good night's sleep on the ride - six comatose hours at about 850km. With little sleep, I collected the fastest 1200 time of my slow career - 76 hours, 34 minutes. An extraordinary adventure.

Back home, I rode very little until my next long event. A 200k permanent in California highlighted the two months between big rides. Chris and I took our bikes along when we drove our daughter to her first year in college in Southern California. On the way back we stopped to visit friends in Santa Cruz. While Chris went off mountain biking, I rode a bit with rando legends Lois Springsteen (current Randonneurs USA president and five-time PBP finisher) and Bill Bryant (prolific writer and historian of all things rando) and completed their hilly, scenic Skyline permanent.

The hill training of the Skyline permanent proved quite useful for my next long event - the pre-ride of a one-way 1000km brevet from Seattle to Crater Lake in Oregon (and on to Klamath Falls for train ride home). As a public service, Geoff Swarts, Vincent Muoneke, Kole Kantner, and I went out the week before the scheduled date of this brevet to take all the bad weather that might otherwise mar a great event. We had headwinds and hours and hours of torrential rains (whitecaps on the road?!?) to enjoy.

Having seen pictures of Crater Lake, one of the natural wonders of the world, I had eagerly anticipated the chance to make my first visit there and on a brevet, no less. After a difficult couple of days along the Washington and Oregon coasts, I almost didn't get going for the challenges of the last day of the ride. But Roseburg (Oregon) is a very long way from home and the 100 mile climb from there to the crater rim seemed like the best among various lousy options to get home. Happily for me, Vincent hung back with me for the long climb. His company proved a great counterweight to the disappointment of the day's weather. The crater was in the middle of a raincloud. No views of the lake were to be had. Indeed, I could barely see my front wheel. I could, however, see Vinny's ever-present smile, appearing Cheshire cat-like out of the mist. We regrouped with Geoff and Kole at the top for a long last 100km to the finish. (Happy postscript - the big group of riders the next weekend enjoyed fabulous weather and beautiful views on this terrific course).

Next up was Australia (I needed another continent, after all) for the fourth edition of the Perth-Albany-Perth 1200km brevet in Western Australia. I turned 50 in the company of great randonneuring friends in Perth before the ride. As I've noted before, one of the great joys of this sport for me has been the collection of friends from all over the world that I see over and over at these events. Nearly 90 riders made for a great field. Common overnight stops led to a very social ride. I saw riders that I knew from the US, Canada, the UK, and Sweden along with the many Australians that I've met on two prior riding visits to Australia (and at other rides).

Many things came together to make this a terrific 1200k for me. Nick Dale and his colleagues did an extraordinary job of organizing the ride. The weather was perfect for me - cool evenings and temperate days. Not a drop of rain (until our plane taxied off to the runway as I left Perth after the ride). Although I usually spend a fair amount of time riding alone (which I enjoy) on long rides, I rode nearly the whole ride in the company of other riders. In particular, I spent much of the ride with Greg Courtney (Iowa), Spencer Klaassen (Kansas City), Maile Neel (DC), and Jos Verstegen (Holland). In addition I rode the first night and most of the second day with Vincent and all of the last day with Peter Donnan (Melbourne), who had hosted me (and towed me in) at the Great Southern Randonnee in 2008. Varied scenery and interesting wildlife added to the fun. (Some pictures of my ride can be found online - mine, Spencer's, Maile's, and Greg's).

All in all, a wonderful collection of randonneur memories already in 2010. A great year. And I collected some new stickers for my luggage box too.

5000 Kilometers Behind

2010-01-23T17:04:00.000-08:00

Last October , sitting on a train to California and feeling behind on my randonneur blog, I wrote A Catch-Up Post. Little did I know that it would be three months before I wrote another post. As someone commented recently, "isn't about time for a catch-up post to your catch-up post?" But I'm five thousand kilometers behind - that's a lot of catching up.

Randonneurs are fond of joking that they ride for trinkets. I sure do. In the last three months, I've happily collected all sorts of doodads. An offhand comment from frequent riding companion Vincent Muoneke launched one quest. Vincent mentioned that he had earned his third 5000km RUSA distance medal. (He would subsequently earn another one and finish the year with over 22,000 RUSA km, an amazing record!). Having once been a bit of a math nerd and thinking of 15 as a nice triangular number, I figured that if I ever rode 15,000 RUSA kilometers, I'd want to commemorate the achievement with a full set - a 5000km medal, a 4000km medal, a 3000km medal, a 2000km medal, and a 1000km medal. Suddenly I had a distance goal for the rest of the year.

Along the way, I found all sorts of other blankets and baubles in my mailbox.

A 2009 ACP Super Randonneur medal (for riders who complete a 200, 300, 400, and 600km brevet in one year),

a RUSA Super Randonneur jersey (for riders completing the same series of RUSA events),

a PCH Randonneurs Super Randonneur jersey (for riders completing the same series, with at least one of the events done with the PCH Randos in Southern California),

a Last Chance 1200 commemorative jersey (for the summer's party ride),

my second International Super Randonneurs patch (in this case for a ISR1200-3C - completion of a 1200km event in each of four different countries on three different continents),

my third R-12 medal (at least a 200km event in each of 12 consecutive months),

and a beautiful new Randonneurs USA Mondial award globe (for RUSA lifetime achievement of at least 40,000 RUSA kilometers).

Of course, I really ride for the joy of the time on my bicycle, so it's more fun to recall the rides that generated the trinkets. The train ride to California in October took me to Salinas, the start of a one way 600km brevet down to Ventura/Oxnard with the PCH Randonneurs. Spectacular scenery, good company, lots of climbing early in the ride. Worth the trip.

In December, I flew to Dallas to ride a 300km brevet with the Lone Star Randonneurs. Good friend and LSR RBA Dan Driscoll hosted me and took me out for a nice RUSA Permanent ride the day before the event. Having a local rider came in handy when looking for a place to stock up along the way.

On the 300k, it was a treat to ride with many of the legendary Texas K-Hounds. A rite of passage for the local randonneurs is to complete 10,000 kilometers of randonneur events in a single year and get recognized as a K-Hound.

On the 300km brevet, I rode with Dan and Mark Metcalfe, each of whom has had a 20,000 kilometer year, Gary Gottlieb (above right), who was on his way to his own 20,000 kilometer year, Val and Robin Phelps, both on their way to more than 15,000 kilometers for 2009, and Vickie Tyer (above left), a RAAM-qualified (at the 2009 Last Chance) K-Hound. In training for an upcoming 24-hour event, Mark was off the front early, but the rest of the group stuck together all day, building camaraderie by enduring chipseal, headwinds, and Val's jokes (that's him below, laughing at one of his own now).

In between and after these two out-of-town brevets, I rode nearly 4000 kilometers worth of local permanent events. Some were epic, like the all night ride in torrential rains to greet the arrival of the winter solstice. Some just good rides with food.

And many, many were a chance to spend the day with good friends Vinny and Geoff, who are handy with a flat.

And I'll admit that a few fell into the "yeah, I've done this one before, but if I still want 15,000km . . . " category.

Looking forward to 2010.

A Catch-Up Post

2009-10-16T13:42:00.000-07:00

The longer I go after posting to this blog, the harder it is to get started again. So here's a bit of a catch-up for the last three weeks.

Mount St Helens

After flying high with a fun 1200k brevet on the plains and a fastest-ever 200k permanent, I came crashing back to earth. In Icarean fashion, it was a too much ascent that caused the big descent. On a Wednesday (9/23) a collection of usual permanents suspects met in Winlock for a permanent up to Johnston Ridge Observatory on Mount St. Helens (and back). For years, I've meant to do the organized Tour de Blast ride, but somehow never got around to it. Geoff's Winlock-MSH-Winlock permanent wraps the same climbing in another 40 or so miles of gentle rollers to get the magic 200k distance for the permanent.

My performance peak came early as I staved off a convenience store stop in Castle Rock with a timely spotting of an espresso serving bakery. After that, it was a bit of an ugly-fest for the rest of the way up to Johnston Ridge. I augmented my usual climbing prowess with a series of rookie mistakes - not enough sleep, not enough food, not enough hydration, and starting the climb too hard. The 4000 foot climb to Johnston Ridge is interrupted by a 1500 foot down hill, making it more like a 5500 foot climb (somehow the whole route was 9000 feet of climbing). By the time I reached the top I was a bit of a wreck.

But it was a beautiful course with great views of the mountain, so it was a good day anyway. More than 50% more elapsed time than the last 200k (nearly 12 hours total), so back to normal!

Barlow Trail

The next order of business (Saturday, 9/23) would be the Barlow Trail 300k put on by the Oregon Randonneurs. Michael Wolfe, who has recently moved from Portland to Seattle, created this route, pre-rode it during the summer, and then had to postpone the event because of record heat. (Warmer, even, than that I enjoyed on the XTR.) Somewhat humbled by my torturous ascent of Mount St. Helens, I asked Michael about the climbing on this ride. "I'm not gonna lie to you, this is a challenging ride" was not really the reassurance that I sought. My usual riding buddies were iffy as well. Geoff thought that some rest would be a good idea. Vincent was about to leave for the Endless Mountains 1240. Might good sense prevail? Not likely - there was a ride to do. As Geoff's e-mail put it, "Sanity is overrated; suffering is temporary; I’ll be there." So Friday, Geoff, Vincent, Michael, and I are carpooling to Portland. Well, to Sandy, OR, where the ride would start.

The ride was spectacular. Michael was right, it was challenging, but the suffering was modest. We followed the Clackamas River upstream in the morning.

We left the river to climb through the forest on some delightful roads.

One in particular was made all the more delightful by a relative lack of traffic. The paucity of cars could be attributed to the fact that instead of a bridge over Anvil Creek, the road simply ended on one side and restarted on the others. No problem for intrepid randonneurs, but not so good for cars.

We screamed downhill towards Maupin and the Deschutes River. Without the incinerator heat present on my only other trip to Maupin (on XTR), the town seemed quite pleasant. I even felt like eating this time. Geoff and Vincent joined me for a nice sit-down lunch. As with the XTR, we left Maupin for a stretch downriver and upwind along the Deschutes.

A familiar climb brought us out of the river to Tygh Valley. The painful, guardrail-sit inducing, never-ending climb up Tygh Ridge from the XTR was not on this route. Instead we headed for Wamic Market, climbing out of the valley on a different road.

After fueling up at the market, we headed into the hills on the Barlow Road Route towards Barlow Pass.

We felt pretty good on this stretch and climbed well.

It was dark when we reached the summit and then descended and climbed to the last control in a chilly Government Camp. At this point I was acutely aware of my mistake - forgetting my arm and knee warmers - so I begged for a soup stop before going on. The tomato soup at the Ice Axe Grill did the trick. After donning every item of clothing I had with me, including my always-carried but seldom-used Gore jacket, we zipped down the hill to pizza and beer at the finish in Sandy.

A great ride. Glad I didn't miss it.

Watching a Race

The following weekend brought something different. Bob Brudvik and I headed down to Southern California to crew for SIR member Chris Ragsdale on the Furnace Creek 508 ultramarathon cycling race. Being in the crew van gave us a front row seat for Chris's impressive win over rival (and winner of the last three FC508s) Michael Emde. The FC508 bills itself as “The Toughest 48 hours in Sport” with a race course that is 509.58 miles long and has a total elevation gain of over 35,000′, while crossing ten mountain passes, and stretching from Santa Clarita (just north of Los Angeles), across the Mojave Desert, through Death Valley, to Twenty Nine Palms. An already difficult event was made even more challenging this year by DNF-inducing winds gusting to 60mph+ (and not tailwinds, either!).

Sunrise

Watching a race is all well and good, I suppose, but I needed a ride. Happily Geoff was game for a weekday ride up to Mt Rainier on the Sunrise Climb permanent from Black Diamond. A picture is worth a thousand words.

A wonderful day.

Something Different

2009-09-20T17:44:00.000-07:00

I'm not known for speed. In 2002, some SIR riders and visiting riders got together to carpool in a small caravan from Seattle to the Rocky Mountain 1200 in British Columbia. I warned the other driver that some regrouping might be necessary because, as I put it, "I drive kinda slowly." Greg Cox heard this and exclaimed, "Geez, don't tell me you drive that way too!" Not much has changed in the years since.

Fresh off my dawdling ride of the Last Chance 1200, yet oddly emboldened by how good I felt on and after the ride, I suggested to my fast friends Bob Brudvik and Robin Pieper that we go out this weekend and ride a 200km permanent for speed. We picked the Three Rivers Cruise, a relatively flat (3000ft according to my Garmin), but still scenic, ride and we lucked into a beautiful day.

We rode three versions of a fast paceline throughout the ride: Bob pulling Robin pulling me, Robin pulling Bob pulling me, and Robin and Bob side by side pulling me. To be fair, I think I may have been in front for a kilometer, early in the ride. So call me the Sandy Pittman of the ride, short-roped to the finish. They pulled when I could hang on and they slowed when I drifted off the back. Very generous.

And it worked. We finished in 7:30. (Elapsed time was actually 7:25, but we started 5 minutes past our scheduled start time. Knocked 1:05 off my previous best 200km time. We averaged 30km/hr for the 6:40 that we were on the bike. Absolutely outrageous. It may take me longer to recover from today's ride than from the Last Chance 1200km.

As a footnote, today's ride pushed my total randonneur event distance for the year to 11,604km, another personal record (I rode 11,541km in 2007). What a fun year it's been!

The riders in Marblemount:

The bikes in Day Creek. Guess whose bike has the most stuff on it?

Speed graph and map from Garmin.

Party on the Plains

2009-09-14T09:12:00.000-07:00

Reader note: If you are seeking an epic tale of rando suffering, you'll need to look elsewhere. Looking for a story of one lonely randonneur fighting time cutoffs, sleep deprivation, relentless hills, and epic weather? Move along.

"You're going to Colorado for a 1200k? Wow. That will be scenic. And difficult."

"Well, actually we're starting east of the mountains and heading further east into the plains."

"Oh. [Long pause]. Um, why?"

"Because I've never been to Kansas?"

In truth, Kansas never exerted much of a pull. I'm just drawn moth-like to the flames of these 1200k events. Each brings some unique adventure and a group of old and new friends with whom to share it. Colorado's Rocky Mountain Cycling Club's Last Chance 1200k would be my eighth different 1200. Even the repeated 1200s have offered a different experience each time. Variations in the scenery, in the terrain, in the local culture, in the rider field, in my fitness, in the weather, in my approach, and in a multitude of other factors yield vastly different stories for each 1200.

For me, the theme of the 2009 Last Chance 1200 would be to relax and enjoy the party. With relatively friendly terrain, the event is only as difficult as the weather makes it. I had heard stories of riders seeking shelter from near-tornado conditions, of soaking rains, and of wicked winds. The possibility of high temperatures frightened me as well; as I was reminded on John Kramer's XTR 600k earlier this year, heat is not my friend. But the weather gods would smile benignly on my ride. Temperatures ranged from upper 40s to 80 (F), well within the comfort range of my SIR blue wool jerseys. Rain fell only on part of the last day of my ride and was relatively light - more Seattle misting than diluvian soaking. Winds blew weakly when head-on and from the sides when strong.

Wednesday - 250 miles to Atwood

At an astonishingly early time of 3AM, 36 riders headed off in the dark towards Kansas. About half that group held together to the first control in Byers, Colorado. In contrast to the confusing cue sheet of my last 1200 in Scandinavia, the Last Chance cue sheet was a model of simplicity. Only the first 70 miles and the last 100 miles had turns. The 580 miles in between were a giant out-and-back on US-36. The only good opportunity to get lost and accrue bonus miles came in the dark on the first day on the way to Byers. As a result, many of us saw the wisdom in staying with a big group that included the ride organizer, John Lee Ellis.

I worked harder than planned to stay with this well-guided group and dropped off the back just before Byers as the sun came up. Super-volunteer Eric Simmons had brought a truckful of breakfast burritos for the riders.

The remaining 180 miles of the first day passed uneventfully. I rode with a shifting group of riders in about the third quartile of the field, sticking to my plan to stop at every possible source of nourishment from Colorado into Kansas and to enjoy the scenery(?).

Along the way, Paul Rozelle was corrupted by the ride-for-fun posse and abandoned his plan to qualify for RAAM (again, but this time on fixed gear). Sharon and Vickie from Texas were incorruptible and did ultimately qualify for RAAM. I rolled into Atwood with Paul, Bill Olsen (on his 4th 1200 of 2009), the Florida tandem of Alain Abbate and Viktoriya Shundrovskaya, and their fellow Floridian Hamid Akbarian. Setting a tone for the rest of the ride, Paul, Bill, and I stopped first at the convenience store for some tall cans of 3.2 beer.

Charlie Henderson (RUSA #6) and Jim Kraychy manned the Atwood control and doled out pizza and room assignments. The no-rush plan firmly established, we opted for a 7+ hour stop and a 3AM departure.

Thursday - 220 miles to Kensington and back

Bill, Hamid, the two Pauls (Paul Rozelle was joined by Paul Shapiro), and I rode into the pre-dawn fog with a morning plan that would repeat itself for the rest of the ride. Pre-departure snack, ride to sit-down breakfast in next town, arrive in next town to find eatery closed, curse and grumble, ride on to next town, and finally enjoy a wonderful breakfast in the second town. On Thursday, we landed in the Town & Country Kitchen in Norton, Kansas, where a kindly waitress brought piles of food, pitchers of water, and bottomless coffee cups.

Riding 60 miles before breakfast put us more than halfway to the turnaround point of the ride in Kensington, Kansas. With one relatively brief stop in Phillipsburg, we arrived at Kensington just after noon. It was 11:20 by my watch, so I was disappointed to discover that the post office was closed for lunch. I would have to deposit the ceremonial postcard in the mailbox rather than handing it to postmistress Beverly. Absent any spatial navigation challenges in the Kansas part of the ride, we contented ourselves with temporal confusion arising from keeping official "ride time" (Mountain) on our watches, while the locals went about their business on Central time.

A nice surprise offset the disappointment of the closed post office. As we rolled down the main street of Kensington, I spied a familiar looking flash of blue. A pedestrian sporting a blue wool Seattle Randonneurs jersey? How was that possible? Well, SIR's own Guy Oldfield has a place in the next county and came out to man a table covered with pie and other goodies. A welcome sight.

Heading back west, the morning's light headwind became a happy tailwind blowing us quickly to lunch back in Phillipsburg. At the town's fine sandwich establishment, a Subway, we fueled up for the 90-odd mile return trip to Atwood. Also patronizing the Subway were SIR's Ian Shopland and the Colorado tandem team of Beth and Brent Myers. Our six single bikes and two tandems would ride most of the way back to Atwood more or less together, interrupted by stops in Norton and Oberlin.

In the dark on the final stretch, the unintelligible but unmistakably angry screams of a parked eastbound trucker interrupted the night's stillness. We shrugged it off and continued back to Atwood. Paul, Paul, and Bill stopped off at the convenience store for more yummy 3.2 beer, a somewhat inopportune mission, as they were greeted by the local sheriff investigating a 911 complaint of cyclists all over the road. Our 18-wheeler driving friend was apparently quite unhappy to share the relatively deserted road with any 2-wheelers, even those traveling the other way. With two lawyers among the three riders in the store, not much happened and we were soon again enjoying pizza and beer and the luxury of 12 hours "in the bank" (up from 10 when we arrived in Atwood the previous evening). We made a plan for another 3AM departure and headed off to bed.

Friday - 180 miles from Atwood to Byers

Deja vu all over again. Although the cook could be seen in the window, the diner in Bird City was still closed when we arrived for breakfast. So, on to St. Francis, another 15 miles. A desperate inquiry in the local convenience store yields a recommendation that we stop for breakfast at the bowling alley, of all places. To our surprise and delight, breakfast was delicious. Closed lanes squelched the thought of a bowling a frame or two for dessert.

Soon we were back in Colorado and greeted by brisk winds. Happily, they were mostly crosswinds. Spreading across the road in semi-organized echelons with the strongest riders on the wind side, we made good progress through the winds. Too much fun at ever more frequent stops proved the more serious impediment to forward progress. Stop 14 miles past St Francis at state line for photos? Check. Stop 14 miles later at Idalia control for snacks and ice and nice conversation with the friendly store clerk? Check. Stop 24 miles later in the town of Joes for photos and to make "eat-at-joes" jokes? Check. Stop 11 miles later in Cope for soup and sandwiches in the nice little cafe in the store? Check. Stop 20 miles later at the Anton store control for refreshments including beer? Check.

The group of riders with which I would finish the ride had coalesced by now. Hamid, Ian, the two Pauls, and I proved to be quite compatible. With some trepidation we left the Anton store for the 55 miles leading to the third overnight. Our sense of dread about the rollers and net elevation gain between Anton and Byers (back up to 5000ft) proved unwarranted as we powered through this section feeling great. Along the way, I noted a comment posted online by Amy Pieper back home - "Where is the suffering?" Apparently it would have to wait for another day.

Arriving in the daylight a bit after 7pm meant that we had nearly 26 hours to ride the last 100 miles to the finish. Many riders saw personal best times in reach or were simple eager to get the ride done; they planned short sleeps and early departures. We had other ideas. Over a delicious dinner of corn chowder, grilled sandwiches, pasta salad, cold beer, and other goodies served up by Eric Simmons and Bobbe Foliart, we argued and negotiated over just how late in the morning we could leave. The compromise reached was not to wait for breakfast to open in Byers, but instead to leave at 5am and seek breakfast 34 miles up the road in Prospect Valley. Surely we could get enough sleep with a 9+ hour overnight stop, a luxury previously unknown to me in my 12 years of riding brevets.

Saturday - 100 miles to the finish

Groundhog Day! We reached the Sodbuster Cafe in Prospect Valley only to be greeted by a sign: "6am - 2pm Mon-Friday - Weekend open soon." Aaargh! Off we rode to the next town, but only eight miles this day. In Keenesburg, we found yet another wonderful breakfast at the Korner Kitchen restaurant.

Just out of town after breakfast we rode headlong into the first real drama of the ride. All pretty experienced riders, we would know better than to say "wow, no flats" and thus taunt the tire gods. A reasonable corollary rule would be to avoid any statement like the previous night's "Sure we can spend 9 hours at the overnight. We'll have 16 hours to ride the last 100 miles. It would take a catastophic failure for that to be a problem." A mile past Keenesburg we noticed Ian's wheel out of true. An experienced bike mechanic, Ian found some loose spokes and looked for a broken one or other signs of damage. Instead we spotted this:

Uh-oh. Cracked hub?!? We could feel pretty foolish now for tempting "catastrophic failure," but putting our ride-fried heads together we formulated a plan. First, we added the ziptie seen in the picture in hopes of retarding the progress of the crack. Then we called ride central back in Louisville to inform them of our trouble and to beg for some help. John Lee Ellis, who had finished much earlier (around midnight), offered to bring a replacement rear wheel to the next control in Platteville. Ian rode as gingerly as possible towards Platteville to meet him.

Outside of Platteville we encountered rain that would stay with us for the rest of the ride. Not particularly substantial, it did give me an excuse to put on a few extra items that I had carried unused for 700 miles - wool headband, toe covers, overmitts, etc. (I did keep the raincoat safe and dry in my bag.) The rain also gave us an excuse for a long lunch stop at the cafe in the control. Finally at 2:45pm, barely the worse for wear, we showed up at the finish at John Lee's house. Not the most scenic or challenging 1200 I'd ever done, but certainly one of the most fun.

Paul Shapiro, Ian Shopland, me, Hamid Akbarian, Paul Rozelle

Postscript: My ride wouldn't be complete without a nerdy time-motion study courtesy of my Garmin 705 GPS. The GPS was aided on the Last Chance by my latest gizmo, the V4 power pack and universal cable from PedalPower+ in Australia. Using the PedalPower+ stuff, I ran the GPS continuously for 84 hours. Attaching the cable (with appropriate adapter tip) between my hub and the GPS charged the GPS during the day. At night the generator powered my light and the GPS ran off its internal battery. The cable could also charge the power pack allowing the stored energy also to be used to recharge a phone etc. Very nice setup.

More photos from the ride are here.

Less Traveled

2009-09-05T10:52:00.000-07:00

THE SNOW LEVEL WILL FALL TO AROUND 6000 FEET BY SUNDAY... AND ONE TO TWO FEET OF NEW SNOW IS EXPECTED TO FALL ABOVE THE SNOW LEVEL.

With the weekend forecast looking decidedly non-summer-y, I thought that sneaking up the back roads to Stevens Pass on Friday sounded like a good idea. So did Lyn Gill, Michael Huber, Jeff Loomis, Vincent Muoneke, who joined me at Duvall for the ride.

Earlier this summer, Geoff Swarts had created an up-and-back 200km permanent to Stevens Pass. From just before Skykomish up to the summit, sections of the old highway are still open and make a nice alternative to US-2. Along with the back road from Gold Bar to the control at Index, these sections provide a wonderful diversion from the highway.

First we left the highway before the narrow tunnel and crossed the river toward the Money Creek campground for the back way around Skykomish.

After Skykomish and before Scenic, there is a lovely and well maintained section of the Old Cascade Highway. Although it provides access to the Iron Goat Trail, we saw only two or three cars, one of which was parked.

After rejoining the highway for a very short stretch, we left for the section of the Old Cascade Highway that loops up over the railroad tunnel and heads for the summit. A bridge on this old road is gone, replaced by this lovely wooden structure too narrow for cars.

Although vehicles can access the road from either end, the lack of through access means very little traffic on a lovely road up to the summit. We saw one car and used the whole road.

Of course, there was espresso. At Vinaccio in Sultan on the way up.

And lunch. At Skykomish Deli on the way down.

Maintaining my figure

2009-09-02T15:01:00.000-07:00

"With all your riding, shouldn't you be a lot lighter?" A simple question, as my roommate at PAC Tour Desert Camp this spring tries to reconcile my stories of randonneuring with their Clydesdale-ish teller.

Probably so, I guess. But I really like to eat. Yesterday Amy and Robin Pieper joined me for a 200km permanent (#624) that loops from Arlington up to Bellingham and back. The Piepers claimed not to have been riding but were quite speedy.

After 45 kilometers, we stop in the control town of Sedro Wooley at a bakery cafe. I order an apple fritter larger than my head to go with my latte. The clerk hands me the fritter in a bag, then realizes that we are planning to sit and eat. She puts the fritter on a plate but gives me the bag anyway. "No one finishes those; you'll need the bag." I didn't.

In Bellingham, we met Dan Turner for lunch at the Mambo Italiano Cafe. I have the spaghetti carbonara, a caesar salad, a pint of Mac & Jacks, and bread and olive oil while waiting. After the meal, Robin gets the check. I look over his shoulder. Nearly half the bill for our party of four is for my stuff.

A lovely, scenic 200 kilometer ride with nice views along Lake Whatcom and Chuckanut Drive consumes 9900 calories according to my GPS. The Garmin provides a wealth of information, but it doesn't provide a net calorie reading. If it only knew what was happening during those zero kph pauses.

Nice Day

2009-08-30T15:27:00.000-07:00

Simple pleasures. 200 kilometer Hood Canal Loop permanent. Good riding companions. Coffee en route. Ice cream in Hoodsport. Beer at the end. Early rain yielding to sun.

Pre-ride coffee - Seattle ferry terminal

On Common Grounds in Chimacum with riding companions Noel Howes, Ward Beebe, Joe Platzner, Greg Cox, and Andy Speier.

Thanks, Greg, for organizing.

Super Brevet Scandinavia 2009

2009-08-15T10:00:00.000-07:00

Riding a 1200km brevet after more than four weeks off the bike - not a single pedal stroke - appeared to be a bad idea, but I had a theory. Spending four weeks on a wonderful family vacation in South America would be restful and rejuvenating. Spending nearly a week of that vacation above 3000 meters elevation, including a four-day trek to Machu Picchu with climbs to over 4000 meters would build red blood cells. The combination of the rest and the natural blood doping would set me up perfectly for the event. Okay, so it was more a hope than a theory, but it's what I had, so I was going with it.

BEFORE THE RIDE

I nearly didn't get the chance to test the theory. Just as we started our South American vacation, I discovered that I had been watching the wrong Danish randonneur website. I probably should have wondered why no signup formalities had been posted, but sometimes I can be a bit casual about these things. Or perhaps, too willing to assume that others are being casual. I spoke to my Danish randonneur friend Stig Lundgaard four weeks before the brevet and discovered two things - the ride was full and anyway I had probably made air reservations for the wrong day. You are arriving in Copenhagen Thursday, he noted, and the ride starts 500 kilometers away on Friday morning with a pre-ride meeting on Thursday evening. Oops.

Stig is one of the great guys of randonneuring. He's incredibly accomplished, with more than 20 grand randonnees (1200km or more) completed at only about 40 years of age. These have included 4 Paris-Brest-Paris finishes, including at least one at right around 50 hours. Although it's possible that he and I met at PBP in 1999, our friendship started with a meeting in Australia for the 2001 Great Southern Randonnee. A stronger rider than I, he was nonetheless behind me when I turned around after Port Fairy to DNF the ride. He saw me riding the wrong way and endeavored to persuade me to continue. Of course, I persevered in my determination not to persevere on the ride. Our paths would cross at numerous events since 2001, and Stig would never fail to remind me that it was "stupid" to turn around. Never said in a mean way, that comment matched perfectly my view of that long-regretted decision.

At Boston-Montreal-Boston in 2002, I arrived late to the Bullard Farm control on the third night. I was cold, wet, and way behind my riding buddies as a result of a mechanical problem. Knowing that I wouldn't have time for a long sleep, I passed out on a chair instead of seeking a better place to sleep in the control. A photo captured this not very pretty sight. That photo has illustrated this blog since its inception (see right) because it reminds me of a lot of things that I have learned about this sport. One is about how one can feel pretty good on a brevet after feeling pretty bad - the next day I felt great and took, according to my friend Peter McKay, a fifty-mile, beer-at-the-finish-inspired pull of our little four person group most of the way home. It also reminds me, and this is the reason I bring this up here, of the great care that randonneurs take for each other. Shortly after the photo, I awake to the gentle crinkling of paper. Stig, Mr. 50-hour PBP, is stuffing newspapers into the wet shoes of Mr. 86-hour PBP (me), not just offering unsolicited but welcome help to dry the shoes, but also teaching me a little trick of the trade. In the years that I've been involved in the sport, I've witnessed (and been the beneficiary of) many instances of such kindness and instruction, but that one has always stuck with me.

As I said already, Stig is one of the great guys of the sport. So I suspect he may have had a role events leading to the e-mail that I received about 10 days after our call. From Per Rasmussen, the organizer of the 2009 SBS, in key part it read, "We have some participants who have canceled. So if you are quick, you can make a registration." Sweet. Stig also let me know that I could stay with him and Trine while in Denmark and that he would assist with all the pre-ride logistics. I delightedly informed my family that I was SBS-bound. On hearing how soon after our trip I'd have to leave (on a Tuesday morning after arriving home on a Sunday evening), my family gave me the "you're nuts, you know" look that I know so well. An e-mail to Jon at SVC ensured that my bike would already be in a travel box when I returned from South America.

After some frantic packing, several plane rides, great hospitality from Stig and Trine, and a long drive (I had no idea Denmark was that big), I arrived Thursday afternoon at the ride start location in Frederikshavn on the east coast of Jutland, facing Sweden across the Kattegat.

With not much happening at the start hostel, I headed out for a stroll by the harbor. Looking for inspiration, I spotted the Northern Vitality. Sounded good.

As I had been in Copenhagen, I was amazed by the number of bicycle riders everywhere. Riders came past of every description. I did a double take as one rider went past me on one of the zillions of bicycle lanes I would see in Scandinavia. "John?" I asked his back.

Sure enough, the rider brought his fixed gear bike to a stop and I had a chance to connect with John Evans, a Brit now living in Australia. I also met him for the first time at the GSR in Australia in 2001 and have seen him at several events since. Not content to rest on his laurels as a rock star and successful businessman, John is now one of the overachievers of the rando world. The SBS would be his 27th grand randonnee (I think). More astounding to me, however, was that it would be his third within five weeks; he had just completed the Gold Rush in California and London-Edinburgh-London in the UK.

The reunion quality of these grand randonnees was further evident later that evening, when I saw Jan-Erik, a Dane living in Sweden whom I had met at the 2008 GSR in Australia. He brought along Russ Hamilton from Australia. In 2008, Russ had hosted him for the GSR and now Jan-Erik was returning the favor. Along with one rider from Finland and one from Germany, John Evans, Russ Hamilton, and I constituted the non-Scandinavian contingent for the ride. Most riders were from Denmark. There was a decent sized group from Sweden and two riders from Norway. I think there were 46 starters in all.

My bike was ready to go.

DAY ONE - The Theory Springs Holes

The stories I had heard of the ride told tales of riding like crazy to make ferries, resting on the ferries, and repeating. Most of these ferries, as I would learn, are on the first day of the ride. Even now, the route only makes sense to me with a map.

We would ride generally south along the east side of Jutland, including two short ferry crossings, to Ebeltoft where we would take a longer ferry ride to Zealand (the main island of Denmark). We would ride generally east along the north edge of Zealand, with another shortish ferry crossing, until we reached the Helsinger-Helsingborg ferry that would take us into Sweden, where we would ride another 65 kilometers to the first overnight stop in Laholm. There would be five ferries in the first 275 kilometers. Of course we would get no credit for the distance covered by the boats, but we would also get no allowance for the time spent waiting for or riding on the ferries.

None of this seemed especially concerning at the start, however. A group of Danish riders invited me to head out with them and we started at a ripping pace ahead of most, if not all, of the other riders.

As we approached the first ferry near Aalborg at 58km, they told me that their plan was to make the 2PM long ferry at Ebeltoft (190km). At the pace we were going (well over 30kph average), that would be no problem at all. No other riders joined us on the ferry, so we were still at or near the front of the pack.

In the sixty kilometers or so before the next ferry, the rest-and-altitude-training-will-be-enough theory sprung a hole big enough to let the North Sea flow through. Not only did I let my riding companions know that I would have to drop off, before long I also watched as dozens of riders passed by me as if were on a kid's trike. I boarded the second ferry alone.

After the second ferry, I found myself alone in the wind and busy calculating that not only would I not make that 2PM ferry at Ebeltoft, I wasn't likely to make the 3PM one either.

As a rule, I don't mind riding by myself on long brevets, but I was struggling to maintain a positive mental attitude as my pace dropped further and further and the field moved away from me. As I neared Ebeltoft, I rode along a bay with a number of nice beaches. Lots of folks were out enjoying the beautiful day and I started to think that hanging out on the beach would be more fun than struggling through the ride against my lost fitness. Not where I wanted my thoughts to go wandering.

In the last 15 km or so to the Ebeltoft ferry, another group of seven Danish riders (three women and four men) swept me up. I had some hope of a group to join. They dropped me in the last 3-4 km to the ferry. I could see that we'd be on the same 4PM ferry (it was just past 3PM and we could see the 3PM ferry heading off), but my inability to hold their pace suggested that I'd be riding alone once we reached the other side.

Watching five of the seven riders light up cigarettes while waiting for the ferry did nothing good for my attitude. Waiting for the ferry, we were joined by Lasse and Annie, father and daughter from Sweden. (I did not know it at the time, but a small handful of riders, who had spent part of the day lost, would not cross until the 5PM ferry).

Happily for me, I could ride with some or all of these riders for the last 150km of the day, including two more ferry crossings. Here's the first.

Waiting for the 22:10 ferry (#5 for the day) to cross from Helsinger, Denmark to Helsingborg, Sweden at 275km into the ride, I realized a couple of things. First, the sky was dark. The advertised possibility that the ride, which was all north of the 55th parallel) could be completed mostly without light would be reserved for other riders, not for me. Second, my pace including stops had barely topped 18kph for the day so far, considerably short of the 20kph minimum that I hope to maintain in the early part of a long ride to build cushion for sleeping, eating, and slowing down.

In a positive sign that my ride would improve, I found neither of these realizations discouraging. I don't think that I've ever done a brevet of 400km or longer without some night riding. Not only would this be nothing new, I have good lights and I like riding at night. And although I would prefer to go faster, 18kph pace for a 1200 leaves nearly 24 hours for sleeping and slowing down. Being at or near the back of the ride need not be discouraging, either. Via Facebook, my friends provided a good reminder. I had been posting updates on my (slowing) progress throughout the day. Jason Dul had commented on one such posting that I should follow his motto: "DFL is better than DNF." Words to live by. I resolved to keep posting updates throughout the ride - not wanting to post a DNF update might prove to be just the right motivation at some future low point.

In the ashes of my rest-and-altitude theory, I developed another one: My overall fitness was fine, I would just need time to get my long-sidelined legs back into riding. As another randonneur once told me, the advantage of a 1200km brevet is that you can use the first days to train for the last ones! I decided that my operating assumption was going to be that each day, I would feel stronger than I did on the one before. I was far from sure that this theory would hold any more water than the original one, but it would have to do. We found the overnight hostel at Lanholm around 1:45AM. I updated my Facebook status: "can get 3 hours sleep before breakfast. Woo-hoo."

DAY TWO - Finding the Way

The organizers' conception for the Super Brevet Scandinavia contemplates a common start each morning. We could expect a breakfast each day around 6AM and those who wanted to start together could head out around 7AM. For a brain-dead rider arriving late at night, this provides the further advantage of pre-determining all of the usual how-much-sleep / what-time-should-I-rise calculations. Our 1:45AM arrival had given me time for a warm shower, a pasta dinner, three hours of sleep, and a good breakfast before starting again. Over breakfast, I was the recipient of numerous sympathetic comments about my late arrival, but honestly, I felt pretty good to be back on the bike again.

I started out with the six remaining riders from the group of seven riders that had picked me up on the way to the Ebeltoft ferry. One, who had been sick but attempted the ride anyway, had headed home from Helsinger the previous evening. I was happy to have the company as we were able to pool our ignorance in navigating the often cryptic cue sheet.

It's always interesting to ride somewhere new where the cue sheets may follow different customs than those at home. Over the first day, I had tuned into the basic difference in format. On our SIR cue sheets, each line says, in effect, "at cumulative distance X, which is Y from the last cue, take the following action." The SBS cue sheet had distances at the end of the line and the syntax was "turn this way, you will possibly pass through these named towns or streets as you ride for distance A to cumulative distance B, at which point look at the next line for your next action."

Knowing the general approach was only part of the battle. I still might have to deal with a bicycle path which diverged from the main road on the cue sheet or which took me through an intersection in such a way that I could not see the signs. Or perhaps the road on which we should continue would take a left or a right at an intersection which was not noted on the cue sheet. I had one extra weapon in my navigation arsenal - my GPS. This might have solved my navigational challenges better but for one fundamental problem. I had programmed a track into the GPS based on a map of the 2005 route, not based on the cue sheet which I didn't have at the time. My track creation skills were less than perfect in the first place and then the route had changed, particularly on the way into some changed overnight control locations. At least, however, I could watch the map on the GPS and slow down to be more careful about navigation when the lines on the screen stopped following our actions on the road. When riding with others, I'd ask them if they were sure about the direction followed. Usually they were.

About 40 kilometers into the day, the line on my GPS made a left turn where the cue sheet was silent. I slowed the other riders enough to allow us to be the beneficiary of a course correction shouted from a porch by a bathrobed fellow who seemed bemused at all the cyclists that had been by in the morning. I found out later that this had been a good save; continuing straight, we could have reconnected with the route, but only after extra distance, some navigational guessing, and a long stretch of gravel road.

Twenty five kilometers later, we found a bakery in Torup and the opportunity for delicious baked goods, for water bottle refilling, and for a little sit and rest. (Also a smoke, but I wasn't tempted yet). Also coffee. Not to seem ungrateful, but frankly most of the coffee I had in Scandinavia was horrible. This cup was no exception, but I was happy to have it nonetheless. As we were preparing to leave, John Evans rode up. Unhappily for him, he had taken the extra distance, extra navigation, gravel road option earlier. Happily for me, John would provide good riding company as we rode more or less together for the next 100miles, both with and without our pack of Danes.

The "Welcome Bikers" sign outside Svenljunga beckoned around lunchtime.

However, it called to cyclists of the motor-assisted sort; we had apparently stumbled on the Sturgis of Sweden. In general, this was no problem. Like virtually all the motorists that I encountered in the three countries of the ride, the bikers were unfailingly courteous of us on bicycles. The bikers did make lunch a bit more complicated than usual. The restaurants were packed, making lunch a slow process. (Foregoing lunch was not even considered). Also, it would appear that Swedish bikers are untrustworthy with credit cards, so the stores and restaurant that I visited all had "no cards" signs out. I had been hoping that I could use my bank card to avoid getting a different currency in each of the three countries of the ride, but now I was reduced to going around to my fellow riders and begging for Swedish crowns.

Thirty kilometers later, completely befuddled by the bike lanes and highways on the way into the town of Borås, John and I stopped near the train station for our second attempt at asking a local for directions. The first had elicited a "yes, I think you could go that way, or perhaps this other way" response that had solved none of our confusion. The second time was a charm, however, as we received some very precise directions out of town to our next destination. Upon our successful execution of these directions, John suggested that we replace the cue sheet with the nice young woman that had provided them. I'm certain that his motivations were entirely navigational and had nothing to do with the striking nordic looks of our guiding angel.

On the way up the hill out of Borås, I stopped for a rest and John disappeared up the road ahead. I was now, to the best of my knowledge, dead last among the riders. The prestige of "lanterne rouge" designation provided small comfort, but the "better DFL than DNF" admonition was sufficiently motivating to keep me going to the convenience store control in Alingsås. Several riders were still there, providing me with connection to the field. The father-daughter Swedish riders provided good directions out of town before leaving.

Despite being last on the road, I felt pretty good. Fifty kilometers later, however, I found myself totally lost. The highway on the route sheet was clearly marked with a "no bicycles" indication. My GPS track was no help on this section where the 2005 and 2009 routes diverged substantially. Following the bike route that I vainly hoped might lead back to the highway, I was soon dodging Saturday night party-goers on the cobbled streets of Trollhattan. And I had not even reached the two ominous sounding cues on the route sheet that both identically read "Y-kryds ved ôre Sjö - ingen kendteskilte/no known signs." Whatever that might mean.

Finally I gave up all hope of finding the route and programmed the overnight hotel into the GPS and beseeched it to find me a way there. Which it did. I'm convinced that it found the darkest, hilliest, most deserted route to the overnight stop, but it got me there. After gingerly carrying my bike downstairs to the basement for the second night in a row, I was directed to the room I would share with John Evans. It appeared that he had not preceded me there by too much and I was soon showered and down in the dining area sharing lasagna and beer with the other late arrivals. With only 305km on the second day, it was not even 1AM when I went to bed with the prospect of nearly 5 hours of sleep.

A word about the support on this ride. To my amazement, the entire support crew consisted of organizer Per Rasmussen and his wife and daughter. They would drive the bags to the overnight location and then split duties. The women would care for us on arrival each night, then sleep. Per would sleep first and then care for us at breakfast. The good humor and helpful assistance offered by Betty and her daughter even to the latest arrivals each night cheered me tremendously. Thanks to them.

DAY THREE - Getting Better

With almost 350km to cover, Sunday would be the longest day of the ride. (In prior years the second overnight was further along the route, providing a more normal distribution of distance than the 340/305/346/230 of the 2009 edition). Seventy kilometers after breakfast would be the first control of the day in Ed, which seems like a friendly name for a town and which was the last control in Sweden. I rode some of this stretch with John and the six Danes and some alone. I felt pretty good and was content with my exploration of the better-each-day hypothesis. The camera suggests a somewhat grimmer determination:

After entering Norway, the route ran north for a while along the Iddefjord which separates Norway from Sweden (which, to my modest confusion, is to the west of Norway here). As a cool drizzle settled in and as the route added more hills (short rollers), I could feel my legs coming back. It was a nice sensation to hit the rises pretty hard and feel good doing it. We enjoyed a nice lunch stop in Halden, Norway. We waited a while for one of the Danes, who was not feeling as chipper as the rest of us, but before long we were pushing on to the control in Rakkestad (km 813), which we reached before 4pm.

After Rakkestad, the route headed north east of the Glomma (largest river in Norway) to Askim before turning south and then west to the last ferry of the brevet at Moss. Along the way, I lost track of my riding companions. John rode off ahead and the others stopped somewhere. I also blithely followed the cue sheet on roads clearly not meant for bicycles rather than repeat the bike path misadventures of the previous evening. As a result, I found myself the lone rider on the 7:30 ferry from Moss to Horten across the Oslofjord. A beautiful sky beckoned.

With 100km to go from Horten to the overnight, I was expecting, but not dreading, a long evening of riding. Once off the ferry, I again followed the highway instead of the bike paths for the first part of the route out of town. In the middle of a no-shoulder tunnel, this started to seem like a really bad idea, but I survived. About 15 km or so after the ferry I came upon the father-daughter cyclists having an animated discussion in Swedish. For my benefit, Lasse summarized: "This is shit!" he said, pounding the route sheet. Apparently they had spent at least a half hour lost in the last town. It was also apparently not their first such incident of the day. They had started the day early before breakfast and were clearly not happy to be losing time. I suggested that we pool our navigational resources and ride together, at least to the next control in Larvik. They liked the idea of having a GPS on their side, so off we went.

Happy to say, our navigational misadventures were few and short before we found the lovely, if hilly, road into Sandefjord and the much less scenic road from there to the next control in Larvik. We arrived in Larvik around 11:30 or so to discover that the ferry terminal (for a ferry to Denmark) that was suggested as the control point had long since closed for the day. After much perplexed wandering, we found a gas station / convenience store and proceeded to fritter away time unnecessarily.

The last 35 kilometers of the day seemed much longer. A series of seemingly gratuitous descents and climbs eventually gave way to a long flat stretch into Skien, our overnight control town. A pretty good rain started just as we were wandering around, quite confused and lost, within 100 meters of the control location. It was nearly 3AM when I stumbled into my room for a shower before dinner. They planned to send John in to share it with me when he arrived. (I never saw him, and found out later that it was 8AM before he came through the control, asked for his bag so he could change to dry gloves, and then immediately headed out again.)

DAY FOUR - Feelin' Groovy

After my shortest sleep of the ride, I joined most of the other riders for breakfast, again receiving sympathetic comments for my late arrival. Others had arrived later, however, and even some of the earlier riders had chosen to sleep longer. So with a quick breakfast and an eagerness to "git 'er done," I left at about 6:30 for the 230km push to the finish. The report on the remaining course forecast a hilly, challenging 105km to the control at Treungen and then an easier 125km to the finish. Although a few left before me, I was one of the first riders on the road.

The first 60 kilometers included some of the hilliest and prettiest riding on the brevet leading to the town of Drangedal. (In a sign of my mental decomposition, I found the name of the town hilarious. "Where did the beer go?" "We Drangedal!" This amused me for longer than I care to admit. Then this:

"Phenomenal cycling power. Itty bitty living space." Ha. Ha. Laughter is a sign. Of delirium, perhaps.

To my surprise, I saw only a handful of riders go by along this stretch and I was feeling pretty full of myself when I stopped for a mid-morning snack at a convenience store. A huge pack of riders came in as I was leaving and I vowed to conserve enough energy that I could hang onto at least some of that group when it came by later.

The forty kilometers to Treungen included the most sustained climb of the ride, up 500+ meters to the alpine ski resort of Gautefall. To my further surprise, only one rider came by me on the way up the hill or down the other side. It must be my intensely competitive nature, but this further improved my good mood of the day.

Just before the control, the route sheet said to take a left onto 41 and go 1 km to the control at Treungen. With local knowledge, other riders instead went right a short ways where they could find many control options. Following the route sheet to the left, I found just one, a gas station/convenience store. Once again, however, the quality of the offerings pleasantly surprised me as it had at many a convenience store along the route. A less pleasant surprise was the reaction of the clerk to my request for a stamp. "It is not usual," he said and made it clear that no amount of pleading would yield a stamp. I settled for a receipt and made my way down the road.

In the next stretch I was overtaken by one rider and then swept up by a group of three Danish riders. These included Per and Flemming who were in the group with which I had tried to ride on the first day. I recalled, and was reminded at the next control, that Per was the one who would smoke a pipe at each stop. Apparently this works well for him; he has many 1200s to his credit.

The third rider was Thomas, who wanted to know if I knew Brian Ohlemeier in Seattle. Thomas had ridden part of the way to Brest with Brian at PBP 2007 before dropping off, but still finishing in a fast time. Latching onto these guys was a kick. They were strong and fast, but with few hills remaining (and perhaps a helping of discreet assistance), I could stay with them.

We rode into the penultimate control at a campground. In 2005, there had been a camp store and possibly more. In 2009, we instead found a common room showing signs of a desultory renovation project. The man who greeted us, however, was quite enthusiastic to hear of our ride. Apparently he was also delighted to learn that I had come from the USA and that a rider from Australia was just behind. He reported that it had been over ten years since he had seen an American and that he had never ever seen an Australian. He insisted on making a pot of coffee for us. Thus stoked for the 75 km homestretch, we headed out.

Following the Tovdalselva river to the sea, we zipped along the scenic and flat next section of the course. To my surprise, Thomas called for a food stop in Birkeland, only about 30km from the end. Jan-Erik and Russ rolled up with another rider. I had a soda while some riders waited for real food. Seized by stiffening legs and by a burning desire to finish the ride, I took off alone, figuring I'd see the others soon.

At an intersection less than five kilometers from the finish, I studied the signs, the cue sheet, and the GPS for hints about the route. Finally, I headed off downhill to the right. Before I got far, I heard my name being called and looked around to see Jan-Erik racing down from the intersection after me. He escorted me back up and pointed the correct direction (uphill to the left). Thus saved from much lost wandering, I happily followed him and Russ and the other rider to the finish, where we arrived at 7:20pm, nearly 85 hours after starting this adventure.

Celebratory beer ensued.

But the harder the battle you see

It's the sweeter the victory, now

You can get it if you really want

But you must try, try and try, try and try

You'll succeed at last

1200km Beer

2009-08-15T09:55:00.000-07:00

After seeing a picture of me at the finish of the Super Brevet Scandinavia with a beer in hand, Tom asked what kind of beer I drink at the end of a 1200. The honest answer, of course, is whatever's handy, but I thought back to see if I could reconstruct a more specific answer.

1999 PBP - 1664, on draft back at the Campanile
2001 LEL - I don't recall the draft beer at the nearby pub
2002 RM - Heineken, handed to me by the late Roger Street
2002 BMB - Sam Adams, a ride sponsor
2003 PBP - 1664, on draft back at the Campanile
2005 C12 - Alaskan Amber
2006 BMB - Sam Adams, ride sponsor
2007 PBP - 1664, on draft back at the Campanile
2008 GSR - Cascade Premium Lager (Australia)
2009 SBS - Tuborg

Boy did they all taste good.

1000km Unsupported?

2009-06-26T13:19:00.000-07:00

Susan France, the indefatigable RBA for the Oregon Randonneurs, asked if I would be interested in a check-out pre-ride of the 2009 edition of the Portland-Glacier 1000km. With my usual careful "What? A ride? How far? Where? Ok, I'm in!" analysis, I agreed. It would be a reprise of the pre-ride that Greg Cox and I did of the same route in 2007, my story of which can be found here. For this year, the easiest part of the ride was persuading fellow ride junkies Geoff Swarts and Vincent Muoneke to come along for the fun.

Other riders seemed surprised or impressed that we would be riding "unsupported" - no help along the way from the ride organizer and no personal support at any of the controls. Although unsupported riding is the essence of randonneuring, our longer NW brevets typically have club-organized support at the overnight stops or out on long, service-less segments of the courses. The unsupported nature of the ride fazed me only a bit, however - Greg and I rode it that way in 2007 and had a grand adventure of it.

But I also knew from years of riding these events that there would, in fact, be lots of support for us. That support would take many forms, some expected or planned, some much less so:

The organizer, Susan France, had created a wonderful route that would urge us along with promises of varied and wonderful scenery around every (rare) corner.
The United States Postal Service cycling team is no more, but the USPS can still deliver - in my case a support package at each of our overnight stops - fresh shorts, additional bike food, etc.
My riding companions carried cameras and good memories. They would take pictures and do great post-ride accounts, so I wouldn't need to. (See Geoff's here and Vincent's here).
Nice folks served us food in restaurants along the way, including great sit-down breakfasts in Lyle, WA on the first day and in Thompson Falls, MT on the third day.
The friendly residents of La Crosse, WA lined the main street of town to witness our arrival. (Possibly they were waiting for a parade, but we didn't see one.) The residents of Tekoa celebrated our transit with an egg toss contest (happily completed before our arrival).
When Geoff and I crashed in a deep sandy shoulder just north of the Tri-Cities, a passing motorist stopped to offer aid and wouldn't leave until she was convinced we were ok (which we were).
In addition to providing glorious scenery, Mother Nature supported us with 100 miles of wicked tailwind on the first day from Lyle to Plymouth.
Random by-standers assaulted with tales of our adventure provided the boost of acting suitably impressed.
The passing RV from which a "Yeah, Go Seattle!" cheer came our blue-shirted way over 900km into the ride nearly made up for the idiot RV'er that almost ran us off the road a bit later.
Regular support came from caffeine, my favorite performance enhancing drug, in its many and wondrous forms: diner coffee, Starbucks DoubleShots and Frappucinos from convenience store refrigerators, chocolate bars, iced tea, caffeine tablets, cola nuts from Africa (courtesy of Vincent's dad), caffeinated Clif Blox, and of course, espresso wherever possible. (I couldn't, however, bring myself to go for the Red Bulls that worked so well for Geoff).
After I started posting our progress on facebook (see below), many supportive comments from friends and family kept my spirits high and made quitting even less of an option than usual.
Although it came after the ride, we welcomed the offer by the night clerk at the finish motel of her car so we could get a post-ride meal without having to ride into the torrential downpour again.
Mile after mile, the steady friendship, strong riding, and good humor of Geoff and Vincent bolstered the spirit and enhanced the experience. Thanks.
And of course, neither this or any other ride would be possible without the bemused support of my family at home. On hearing that I planned to ride a 1000km to Montana, my daughter said "Yes, of course you are. What else would you be doing?"

What else indeed. Thanks for the support.

Facebook updates posted along the way:

June 19 at 9:39am
Mark Thomas with Vincent & Geoff at breakfast in Lyle,WA (108 km).

June 19 at 1:49pm
Mark Thomas in Roosevelt, WA (200km)

June 19 at 7:08pm
Mark Thomas is now having dinner in Kennewick, WA (320km).

June 19 at 11:52pm
Mark Thomas is having a beer and getting ready to shower and sleep in Connell, WA (398km).

June 20 at 11:03am
Mark Thomas - enjoying an iced mocha in Dusty, WA (half way!! - 505 km).

June 20 at 12:58pm
Mark Thomas at Colfax, WA control - 536km.

June 20 at 5:34pm
Mark Thomas is dining in style on sidewalk in Plummer, ID (610 km). A hundred km of bike trail before bed. (Trail of the Coeur d'Alenes).

June 20 at 11:04pm
Mark Thomas working on a Foster's oilcan and a cup-o-soup in Wallace, ID (715km). Sleep soon.

June 21 at 10:53am
Mark Thomas - Minnie's Montana Cafe!!! Thompson Falls, MT (807 km)

June 21 at 1:54pm
Mark Thomas checked into penultimate control in Plains, MT (849 km). A hundred miles to Whitefish finish.

June 21 at 8:20p
Mark Thomas - aargh! Lonepine closed. Limped into DQ in Lakeside, MT (955km).

June 21 at 11:19pm
Mark Thomas in Whitefish, MT. 1005km; 67:13 elapsed. Two 6 hour overnights. Two great riding companions. Thanks Geoff and Vincent!

Cool down

2009-06-11T08:12:00.000-07:00

After cooking the previous weekend in Oregon, this past weekend I set off with a merry band of SIR volunteers on the workers' ride of the SIR 600km brevet.

Instead of highs in the upper 90s, we had highs in the mid 60s.
Instead of 20k+ feet of climbing, we had 10k.
Instead of 6 climbs to above 3000 feet, we had one climb over 1500 feet.
Instead of only 1 sleepless hour at the overnight stop in Prineville, we had about 7 hours in Centralia, much of which, admittedly, was spent in a bar.
Instead of 32 hours in the saddle, I had 26.
Instead of an 11.8mph moving average, I moved at 14.4mph.
Instead of sun-baked desert, we had lush green Evergreen State scenery.
Instead of losing calories, I packed them in.

Just what the doctor ordered.

Come try it yourself on Saturday.

(Occasionally functional Google Maps link here)

Eat much?

Sear quickly, then cook slowly until done

2009-06-03T17:23:00.000-07:00

Not good. I'm semi-collapsed in the shady backseat of a volunteer's car trying to figure out what's going wrong and how to right it. I'm only five hours into a two day ride, so I shouldn't be tired yet. It's only 9:30 in the morning, so I shouldn't be overheated yet. I'm less than 100km along a fabulous course, so I shouldn't be short of enthusiasm yet. But I seem to be all of those things. Not good.

The Oregon Randonneurs 600km brevet this year followed in the footsteps of John Kramer's famed "Big Lebowski" 600 from 2006 (see Kent Peterson's entertaining write-up here). 380 miles of riding in north central Oregon, hotter and drier than my usual environs, will include many exposed, extended climbs. For 2009, John christened it the Oregon 600 XTR. I'm not sure what XTR means, exactly, but it sinks into my head as "extreme" and I easily conclude that I should skip the event. A winter and spring of a few thousand km of brevets and permanents performs its usual magic trick, however, and any common sense that I might otherwise possess disappears into thin air. A late registration is made, and the next thing I know, I'm heading to the start in The Dalles, Oregon with Bob Brudvik and Erik Andersen, looking nervously at the forecast of hot temperatures along the route.

In addition to the 3 of us, SIR would also be represented by Peter Beeson, Rick Blacker, Bill Gobie, Ron Himschoot, Ole Mikkelsen, Vincent Muoneke, Brian Ohlmeier, Ian Shopland, Geoff Swarts, and Peg Winczewski. Vince Sikorski, a long-time SIR stalwart and multiple PBP finisher since 1995, now lives in OR, so we'll put him on the south-of-the-Columbia team. The proximity of two other outstanding randonneur clubs counts as one of the joys of being a randonneur in Washington . The wealth of offerings from the BC Randonneurs to the north and from the Oregon Randonneurs to the south gives us even more opportunities to ride.

The pre-dawn initial stretch of riding east along the Columbia to the initial information control in Rufus passed quickly and uneventfully. The climb up Scott Canyon spread the riders out - it certainly spread me towards the back. I attributed my rearward drift to the strength of the field; probably correct, but perhaps the flu symptoms that had passed over me earlier in the week were more significant than I had imagined. By the second significant climb - from the John Day River up to Condon - the trouble had started. Although only a 2500ft climb, I suffered early. Although too soon in the ride and too shallow a grade to be justified in doing so, I was off my bike walking due to leg cramps soon after the climb started. I guess climbing up Devil's Butte had appropriately landed my ass in hell. Near the top (and after the back seat incident), Eric Ahlvin had a secret control. I could still fake a smile for Eric's camera, but I was worried.

I would see Eric quite a few times over the rest of the ride. As "sag" for the ride, he'd be at most of the controls, at least for the slower riders. His good cheer, helpful advice, and cold drinks, along with his refusal, even once, to offer me a ride, were invaluable to my progress. A small, but incredible, team of four volunteers kept riders moving and fueled through a difficult and remote course. Eric, David Rowe, Dave Read, and organizer John Kramer share part of the credit with the riders for the low DNF rate on the event.

At Eric's control, I met up with legendary cross-border randonneur Ron Himschoot, honored in Canada and the US alike. With many consecutive weekend rides of 200+ miles under his belt, he was riding slowly but consistently and strongly. A bit later, at about 150km into the ride, we linked up for the remainder of the brevet. Ron's patience, experience, and no-quit attitude filled in perfectly when mine were insufficient.

Luckily for me, the mental low on the way up Devil's Butte would be the worst of the day, though eating and staying cool would prove to be challenges. Hell, I even passed on a milk shake at Condon. My speed was low and my non-riding breaks too frequent. Really nice scenery provided a counterweight. A relatively nice climb to Butte Creek Summit was followed by a great descent to the John Day River and some really nice, relatively flat riding along the river. By the time we reached the control at the Fossil Beds Interpretive Center/Cant Ranch (250km), I guess I actually felt pretty decent. That it was already 8 o'clock and much cooler contributed, no doubt, to this feeling.

The next stretch, a long, long, gradual climb to the Keys Creek Summit was quite pleasant as night fell. From other riders after the ride, I heard that this section had been brutal in the heat of the afternoon. Along with the substantially cooler temperatures, the inability to see the climb ahead contributed to making it go ok. Sounds odd, I suppose, but usually true for me. David Rowe's rest stop at Mitchell awaited, just a screamer of a dark descent away.

As I settled in for an over-long stop, the reality of my brevet pace started to sink into my consciousness. Arriving at the last control before the overnight stop with an hour in the bank (and spending 3/4 of that at the control), meant that I wouldn't be sleeping on this 600km brevet. Although I've often advised riders that it's not necessary to ride straight through a 600km, it would be so for me this time. Ugh.

The highest point of the course and a 2400 foot climb awaited. In the cool of the night, a fairly substantial meal of a sandwich and a cup-o-noodles sat well with me. The climb was slow, but uneventful. As expected, we cruised into the overnight control with no more than about an hour to spare, at 4:30AM, 24 hours from the start. (24 hours for 375km - painfully slow, even by my standards). An inability to eat more than half a small bowl of pasta and a few bits of potato foreshadowed what would be a calorie-deprived second day.

The first 40, mostly downhill, miles of the day were easy enough, although nearly four hours passed including a breakfast attempt at the Madras Safeway. From Warm Springs at 278 miles, however, my ride went from merely ugly to turn-the-other-way-and-cover-the-children's-eyes hideous. Detailing the agony can do no one any good, so suffice it to say that I ruined some spectacular scenery with some ugly riding. Lots of calories exited the same way they entered, but faster. Slow progress on the bike was interrupted by stretches of no progress on the side of the road. Several bags of ice deployed in waterbottles, in fabric around the neck, and in jersey pockets came and went with little discernible effect on my overcooked state. Some occasional cloud cover and a lot of patience and encouragement from Ron kept me going toward a less than triumphant finish with a half-hour or so to spare on the clock.

John supplied pizza and beer at the finish. My favorites. I couldn't look at them. A bag of ice in my jersey and a coke seemed just about right. Maybe not. The ice didn't last long and the soda hit the eject button. Charming. But hey, I finished the ride before it finished me. Barely.

Who knows where the time goes?

2009-05-14T21:09:00.000-07:00

(pdf version here)

"Who knows where the time goes?" asked Judy Collins from my dad's record player when I was a kid (the first time). With my new bike toy - the Garmin 705 GPS/bike computer - I have a bit of an answer to that question, at least for a ride. I still can't figure out a decent way to navigate with the damn thing, but I love all the data I get when I'm done.

In the plot of time vs. distance, the vertical segments show where time passed but distance did not - i.e., where I was stopped. On the pre-ride, we previewed the Farmer control (and used the outhouses), but without any support there, we had to stop for water at the bottom of McNeil Canyon at Beebe Park. Next, a nice sit-down lunch in Pateros. With no manned control near Twisp on the pre-ride we stopped at the store in Carlton on the way up the Methow and regrouped. Stops at the Omak and Grand Coulee controls were augmented with a brief stop at the store in Nespelem and one at the (heated!) bathrooms at the Dry Falls overlook. Total time off the bike - 2 hours, 40 minutes.

The line shows slow pace as steeper slope (more time, less distance) and fast pace as shallower slope (more distance, less time). The correlation to the overlaid elevation chart is unsurprising - to me or to anyone that's seen me climb.

Nice Road!

2009-05-11T08:00:00.000-07:00

If your friends found a perfect cycling road which you had never seen, much less traveled on by bike, would you want to go? Of course. What if it were in the middle of nowhere with no services? No problem, stock up. What if you had to ride 140 miles with 8000 feet of climbing to get to it and then 70 miles to get back afterwards? Hmm, still sounds pretty good!

(click for Google Maps link)

The Columbia River Road / Omak Lake Road runs a bit over 40 miles between Omak and Nespelem on the Colville reservation in north central Washington. It climbs over Antoine Pass (~1500 feet), runs along Omak Lake, past Big Goose Lake, then follows the Columbia River, before climbing out of the valley to Nespelem. The pavement is perfect; the scenery is amazing. The endorheic (I learned a new word today!) Omak Lake off to the left is a sapphire gem. This road is a wonderful highlight of SIR's spring 400km brevet, but by no means the only one.

A wealth of rider-volunteers has made SIR one of the premier randonneur clubs around. A joyous by-product of all the volunteer support has been the constant development of new routes that show off the diversity of bike riding available in Washington. Rare is the complaint from a rider who is tired of the same routes on the same roads. From the urban streets of Seattle to the mountain passes of the Cascades to the vast spaces east of the mountains, I've been lucky to experience an extraordinary variety of roads in my 12 years of riding SIR populaires, brevets, and permanents.

For this year's spring 400k, Mike Norman and Shane Balkovetz cooked up a wonderful route. A remote start in Ephrata 175 miles from Seattle (but only 2 blocks from an Amtrak station) creates some logistical challenges, but the reward is in the riding.

On Saturday, a big crew of volunteers gathered in Ephrata for the volunteer pre-ride of the route. Mike and I were joined by Tom Brett (one of SIR's original riders), Geoff Swarts and Narayan Krishnamoorthy (our Permanents czars), Bob Brudvik, Tom Martin (resident GPS guru), Matt Dalton, and Duane Wright. Bob, Geoff, Mike, Tom Brett, and I rode together for much of the day. Our ride was uneventful, with no flats or mechanical issues, no major navigational mishaps, and great weather. The other riders absorbed all the issues - Matt had a flat in the middle of the night, Narayan ran out of fuel, Tom Martin took a fifty mile (!) wrong turn, and Duane ran out of time. During the event next weekend, SIR will have support at several spots along the ride. On the pre-ride, however, the paucity of services and support added to the challenge. There would be at least three stretches of 40-50 miles without any water, stores, or other services. But with good company and great roads, we had a wonderful day.

(click for annotated version)

The route features a fair amount of climbing; my computer registered about 12,500 feet. About 2/3 of the climbing comes in the first half of the ride, although the last half contains the two steepest climbs. The ride starts with a nice climb up Sagebrush Flats Road from Ephrata. With a 5AM start, clear skies, and cold overnight temperatures, the initial climb was quite welcome. After a quick, cold descent we rode through the Moses Coulee. I've always enjoyed riding this road along the base of the steep cliff wall of the coulee. (Note to riders: three of the five teeth-rattling cattle grates had been replaced by similarly jarring gravel-filled ditches. Be careful).

Climbing out of the coulee on US-2, the route makes a right turn at the old Farmer Hall where Bob and I will be manning a control next weekend. Going north on SR-172 and west on McNeil Canyon Road took us to the rim of McNeil Canyon (the sign heralded the hitherto unknown, to me anyway, "McNeil Pass" at 3100 feet). The road down to the Columbia River from here is an E-ticket highlight. Recently improved and repaved, the road gives up nearly 2400 feet of elevation in about 5 miles. A sign warns of 12% downhill grades. Partway down, I was greeted by a chase party of five dogs. I faked them by slowing to about 25mph, then sped to 40mph to ruin their closing angle calculations. Whee! I slowed again to say hello to a cyclist coming up the hill. She did not look happy; then and there I resolved that I would only ever ride down this road and would never, never, ever ride up it. We'll see. A really nice sight on the descent down McNeil Canyon is a view of Lake Chelan across the Columbia and several hundred feet above the river.

Crossing the river, we rode up the Columbia on US-97 and Starr Road to Pateros. Eager to take advantage of pretty much the only option for real food for most of the route, we had a nice sit-down lunch at the restaurant behind the Chevron/convenience store before heading up the Methow River. The road up the Methow is another favorite of mine. With no support or services on the pre-ride until Okanogan/Omak, we stopped at the store in Carlton for candy bars and water. At Ralph Nussbaum's suggestion, we turned off before the usual SR-20 intersection to use Lower Beaver Creek Road as a cutoff. A nice choice which will be on the final route sheet.

Since adding an altimeter to my bike, my new form of entertainment on long climbs is to try to identify the point up ahead on the road where I will hit the next hundred foot elevation mark. With 25 such benchmark points, I got lots of practice on the climb up Loup Loup Pass (or "The Loup" as the nice lady in Carlton called it). We regrouped at the summit and then screamed down the other side (with one annoying little uphill). I ran out of gas riding into a headwind in the flat section through Okanogan to the control in Omak, but the guys were waiting there for me.

The road to Nespelem along Omak Lake and the Columbia couldn't have been nicer. Worth the trip. Even worth the painful 800 foot, 10% climb out the other end to meet SR-155 near Nespelem. The faster climbers made the store just in time and got water for all of us. From there it's mostly downhill to the Grand Coulee Dam. After crossing the river and passing the dam, another nasty steep climb took us up to the control spot in Grand Coulee. Shane and Chantel previewed the great support they will provide the riders next weekend. Soup, sandwiches, coffee, chairs, and good cheer set us up nicely for the last 55 miles of the ride. Having this kind of support on a volunteers' ride was amazing.

The remainder of the route does a lake tour - Banks Lake, Dry Falls Lake, Park Lake, Blue Lake, Alkali Lake, Lake Lenore, and Soap Lake. For most 400km riders (including us on the pre-ride), this section will be done at night. Fast riders will see these before sunset and slower riders may see the sunrise over a lake. We thought that riding this in the dark would be a disappointment, but a beautiful nearly full moon lit up the canyon cliffs and brought a silver shimmer to the lake waters. Beautiful.

Hope to see many of you next weekend. Absolutely worth the trip.

See Duane's pictures here.

See Geoff's write-up here.

Signs

2009-02-08T18:14:00.000-08:00

The sign said "Road Closed Ahead." A more informative version might have said "Road Completely Gone Ahead." But then we might have turned back. Or not. After all, some willing suspension of common sense seems to be a prerequisite for randonneuring.

Maybe there will be a ridiculous little muddy catwalk above the gash in the ground that used to be the road. Sure, that's good enough. After all, three riders started an hour and a half before we did, and we haven't seen them come back. John Kramer snapped a picture of me pushing my bike along. I think you can see my discomfort even from behind.

Fourteen miles of gravel and two missing sections of road led us into and out of the town of Brooklyn. "Why go to Brooklyn?," asked the friendly guy we met at the first control. "Why?" is always a challenge for me, but I ventured a guess. "Because there's a tavern there?" Looking a bit disappointed to be the bearer of bad news, he let us know that it was not the original one - "the one with the urinal all the way around the inside wall." Not at all sure that this loss was bad news and not really planning to stop there anyway, we had pressed on.

After the gravel, we had lunch and hosed down our bikes in Raymond, before returning on relatively tame, yet oddly puncture-inducing, pavement to the Lacey start. A great day on the new Lacey-Raymond-Lacey permanent for Bob Brudvik, John Kramer Peter McKay, Vincent Muoneke, Ian Shopland, David Rowe, Geoff Swarts, and me.

See Geoff's story here.

See John's pictures here.

Peter posted some pics on FB here.

See Paul Johnson's (one of the earlier group) story here.

See David's pictures here.

Out of the woodwork

2009-02-05T12:56:00.000-08:00

Mother Nature decided to slip a 60 degree sunny day into the midst of a Pacific Northwest February. Like a light coming on in a dark city kitchen, the sun shone on randos scurrying everywhere. Thirteen of us met for a ride of Permanent 401 - Leschi-Auburn-Redmond-Leschi. Dominique Blachon (sporting his soon to be famous (on RoadBikeRider) GPS setup), Steve Davis, Frank Kaplan, Martin Knowles, Vincent Muoneke, Thai Nguyen, Carol and Ralph Nussbaum, Amy Pieper, Mike Richeson, Kristie Salinger, Andy Speier, and I would be the beneficiaries of the glorious day.

My fourth ride with my new GPS started inauspiciously. I left my cue sheet on the printer at home. Rather than worry about it, I figured the GPS and the large crowd would keep me on track. I got caught flat-footed at the start, filing paperwork away in my car, and the crowd was gone. I realized, as I headed off alone, that I had no idea where the route went. South yes, but up and over I-90 or down to Renton? I just didn't remember. By the time I figured out how to zoom out on the GPS and get an idea of the route, the other riders were long gone.

As consolation, the pre-dawn sky put on an incredible color show, reflected in the waters of Lake Washington. My camera was not with me, but my photographic skills would probably not have captured the beauty anyhow. The Kodachrome of my memory ("gives us those nice bright colors") will just have to do. If I would be spending the day riding by myself, a gorgeous day would make it just fine.

A couple miles down the road, I ride past a cyclist staring at her bike. Stranded cyclists usually get a "you ok?" and almost not enough pause to hear the answer. This cyclist, however, looked truly baffled, so I stopped. A bag strap had found its way into her chain and cassette and turned into macramé. After a bit of fussing, I saw that the wheel would have to come out. I suggested that she release the brake. Blank stare. "I ride my bike, but I don't know anything about it." That sounds really odd from a cyclist, although it's true of most car drivers. Maybe the planet would be better off if it were the other way around.

Another rider stopped to offer welcome assistance. I looked up and saw that it was Dominique, who was catching up after a late arrival at the start. Even better, although a GPS user, he had a cue sheet! We made quick work of getting our commuter friend back on her way and started off.

A few miles later, in Renton, Dominique and I spot bikes and riders outside the cupcake & coffee shop. The last late-arriving rider had been located by phone, and all were waiting for her (and for us). Soon we were all caffeinated and reunited. We were also joined for a bit by fellow SIR member Urs Koenig, off for a training ride for his RAAM adventure this summer.

Although this permanent route leaves a bit to be desired in the lunch stop and coffee break areas, the company and the weather made for a great day on the bike. Two wonderful rides in the first four days of February. Not your typical Northwest winter experience, but I'll make do somehow!

-----

Dominique had his camera out all day. See the pics here and here.

100km. Beer. Repeat.

2009-02-02T09:00:00.000-08:00

Talked long-time riding buddy Peter McKay into riding a permanent yesterday. We joined up with Jack Brace, Tom Norwood, Ryan Schmid, and Andy Speier to ride the Whidbey-La Conner permanent.

We had a brisk but happily dry day as we zipped up Whidbey Island in the tow of Ryan's monstrous draft. It was a great day for a bike ride and the start, for me, of a new R-12 quest. The newly Reverend Jack is moving to Pennsylvania next week, so it was great to get another ride with him.

After a latte in Coupeville, we headed up across my favorite Washington bridge over Deception Pass and past my favorite wheel-sucker road sign (Pull & Be Damned Rd) to the half-way point at La Conner, where we stopped at the La Conner Brewing Company for lunch. A pint of their brown ale made the perfect accompaniment for the thai chicken soup / sandwich combination.

Gentle riding from La Conner to Snohomish took us to the base of the "wall-climb" into Everett and the rollers to Mukilteo. Our reward: pizza and brews at the Diamond Knot brewpub at the finish. Their Steamer Glide Stout provided all the carb replenishment that I could want. Other patrons were watching some sort of football game, but we had our own super day to celebrate.

Attitude adjustment

2009-01-29T20:31:00.000-08:00

Grumped around for a few days this week. Thought I was getting sick. Found the cure today. Leschi-North Bend Permanent 341. Mist to start. Nice day followed. Coffee everywhere! Geoff was patient company (and gave me a GPS tutorial).

Life is good.

Randos in the Mist

2009-01-24T17:20:00.000-08:00

Despite the heavy fog, a band of five randos was observed Thursday in the chilly wilds of King and Snohomish counties. Although each had a distinct "personality," all seemed to share a common purpose. The band included Lumbering Oaf, Chattering Hummingbird, Cheerful Doctor, Whiny but Happy, and the Grand Old One.

Wandering Habits. The randos range wide, but return at the end of the day to where they started. This band covered 209 kilometers, but began and ended at the same location.

Collection Behavior. The randos appear obsessed with collecting slips of paper at various stopping points. It can only be surmised that this band uses these scraps as a means of describing their travels to others of their species.

Feeding Patterns. An eclectic diet characterizes this group. Consumption of everything from plant products to meat products to barely identifiable synthetics was observed. Caffeine-based liquids appear to be a critical component of the randos' diet, especially that of Lumbering Oaf.

Avian Interaction. Although apparently uninterested in birds as prey, the randos would stop in their tracks to observe the local avian population. In particular, sightings of red-tailed hawks and bald eagles appeared quite distracting to the randos.

Temperature Adaptation. Clad in layers of wool and unnatural fibers, the band appeared almost, but not completely, adapted to temperatures that varied only from -2 to +2 degrees centigrade. Grunts were exchanged that appeared to signify complaints on this score.

Communication Patterns. Generalizations are difficult here. At one extreme, Chattering Hummingbird and Cheerful Doctor communicated freely and apparently quite happily. At the other extreme, Grand Old One and Lumbering Oaf appeared to issue only occasional grumpy grunts.

End-of-Day Gathering. After nearly twelve and a half hours of wandering, the band gathered, apparently to discuss how wonderful they were. A few partook of fermented beverages, which apparently enhanced and encouraged this discussion.

Not As Planned

2009-01-18T21:41:00.000-08:00

Had a wonderful 100km ride today. Unfortunately, I had embarked on a 200km permanent. Fourteen riders showed up in Arlington for the Three Rivers Cruise. A bad accident on I-5 delayed a number of riders, but soon we all had coffee and were ready to roll. With temperatures near freezing and a bit of frost on the pavement in the parking lot, Rick Blacker opted to pass on the ride. He sustained a broken hip a few years back after a slip on ice and had no desire to repeat the experience.

So the other thirteen of us - Amy Pieper, Bill Dussler, Bob Brudvik, Charlie White, Eric Vigoren, Martin Knowes, Ole Mikkelson, Peter Beeson, Ralph Nussbaum, Robin Pieper, Thai Nguyen, Wayne Methner, me - headed off. The roads and the skies were clear and the riding was terrific - fast pacelines and good conversation. We saw quite a few bald eagles along the Skagit River and stopped in Marblemount for a nice lunch.

At 100km near Rockport on the way back, I decide to shift to small chainring on my compact for the first time this day. I wrap my chain into multi-pretzels in my front derailleur. About the time I figure out it's not an easy fix, I look up to tell my riding buddies, but I see the last of them disappear into the distance. After much time invested in useless futzing, I end up having to break the chain to fix it. In mid-repair, Peter shows up. I was thrilled that someone had come back. We rode a little ways and then I discover that if I shift back to the large chainring, my crank rubs on the front derailleur. So back to the small.

Given my notorious lack of leg speed, I spin out on this at a low speed. Peter is patient, and we make it to Concrete and turn onto S Skagit road. Happy sight: Robin, Charlie, Bob, and Eric are there waiting. After a few miles of my pathetic spinning they stop me and figure out a way to get the big gear working again.

A couple miles farther, we encounter ice on the road, a bit of a surprise, because the sign in Concrete had said 50 degrees. But all climate is local, I guess. In the shadow of the mountain along the river, a film of ice covered the road.

In front of me, Eric and Robin go down. I try to avoid Robin and I go down. Bob tries to avoid me and he goes down. Charlie goes down. Five bikes and riders skidding down the road on their sides. Peter, at the front, manages to stay upright. Batters, bruises, cuts, and scrapes, but no major injuries are immediately apparent. We walk for a while. We hurt. We try riding. Not a good idea. We walk some more. Finally we flag down a pickup, with a friendly, albeit puzzled, local at the wheel.

We put six bikes and three riders in the bed (along with the guy's scrap wood) and three riders in the cab. He takes us to Day Creek fire station and then alerts Wayne, Amy, and Bill at the church, who come back to meet us. Bill has also gone down and is not happy about it. Ralph and Thai, who have both tumbled more than once, have hitched a ride and are on their way back to Arlington. The gang of six is already DQ. Wayne, Amy, and Bill are actually still in it - having reached Day Creek with a combination of walking and riding - but decide to abandon. Soon SIRs Dave and Nina Johnson show up (called by Charlie). They start ferrying riders and bikes to Clear Creek (nearest tavern!). They take some riders and bikes back to Arlington. Thai comes up to Clear Creek and takes more riders and bikes back to Arlington. Ralph comes all the way to Day Creek and takes Peter and me and a few bikes back to Arlington.

Back at the start, we regroup and see Ole and Martin, who have finished the permanent under their own steam. Impressive.

I have raspberry on hip and mini-raspberries on shoulder and lower leg. Other than that, fine. The other fallen riders have similar aches and pains and some shredded clothing. If that's still the assessment in the morning, we'll consider ourselves lucky.

It was a lovely 100k. The rest - ugh.

Flooding

2009-01-15T14:40:00.000-08:00

With all the rain and flooding around here, I should not have been surprised to find that the river Lethe had apparently overflowed as well. The forgetfulness washed over riders at the first Ralph & Carol training ride last Saturday. One showed up without helmet. No problem, I have one in the shop. Another showed up with no helmet - no problem - and no shoes - problem. As for me, I forgot that I can ride with Bob, Robin, and Wayne only when there are no hills.

Yesterday, in search of a permanent on roads not washed out, I joined Matt Newlin, Geoff Swarts, Vincent Mouneke, Ralph & Carol Nussbaum, and Sue Matthews on the Hood Canal 2.0 permanent. Lethe's floodwaters nearly thwarted me, however. On the way to the ferry in the morning, I was dropping Chris off at the airport. Nearly to the airport, she asks if I'm going straight to the ferry after the airport. "Yes," I reply. "Well, where's your bike?" Oops.

Rescued by my son, who meets me with my bike, I make the ferry in time. Flummoxed, however, by the events, I forget to have coffee at the start, an oversight helpfully documented for posterity by Geoff. Espresso in Port Gamble and again in Chimacum proved restorative (and perhaps predictive of today's headline: "Midlife Coffee And Tea Drinking May Protect Against Late-life Dementia").

I may have forgotten my bike, but I do remember a wonderful ride around the canal, with good company and decent weather. I remember a great breakfast burrito at the Common Grounds Cafe in Chimacum. I remember a glorious descent off Walker Pass into sunshine and tailwind. I remember that a nice couple purchased and reopened the coffee shop in Hoodsport. I remember the good cheer and strong pulls of Vincent and Matt. I remember celebrating the finish with good beer in Bremerton. Thanks, Mnemosyne.

Stolen pleasure

2008-12-05T10:35:00.000-08:00

Winter let down its damp grey guard for just a moment Thursday. Opportunistically, Steve Davis, Matt Newlin, and I rushed in to snatch a beautiful ride from winter's clutches. Sunny skies and pleasant temperatures accompanied us on our ride of Permanent route 341: Leschi-Redmond-North Bend-Maple Valley-Leschi.

Although a perfect day for the Fenderless R-12 quest, a cold had sidelined chief quester Amy Pieper. So we all brought fendered bikes - Steve his shiny new old Schwinn, Matt his cream Kogswell, and me the back-from-Down-Under Serotta - as we made off with our prize. Included with our theft were mountain views (Baker and Rainier), glorious quiet road riding under the gaze of Mt. Si, the company of our fair-weather riding shadows, and good coffee. Sweet!

Down in the Valley

2008-11-24T17:24:00.000-08:00

Apparently the Great Southern did nothing to cure me of the rando bug; instead it appears only to have deepened my affliction. In addition, a quick review of the year's rides found me just shy of 5000 RUSA km for the year. So out the call went for companions on a Saturday ride of Permanent 186 - Snoqualmie Valley and Falls. Mostly nice weather in the forecast tempted many.

Ralph Nussbaum brought the single bike this time.
Erik Andersen and Bob Brudvik brought the single speed bikes.
Vincent Muoneke brought a nasty cold. ("You shouldn't be riding," I said, mostly in jest. "Go downtown and find a few big guys and then try to stop me," came the response. He's got the bug bad).
Rookie randonneur Dan Rearden brought lots of questions and the right attitude. His e-mail full of questions the night before concluded with "Ah hell, see you in the morning."
Also responding were Danish transplant Ole Mikkelsen and Jeff Loomis, back in Seattle after some years in the Boston area. Both did a full ACP brevet series with SIR this year and Ole rode the scorching Cascade 1200 as well.
By coincidence, Jack Brace and friends (Tom Norwood, Ryan Schmid, Destiny Williams) had also arranged to ride the same permanent. Jack e-mailed me to say that they could join us for the start but would be in a bit of a hurry and would have to "hustle along" after the first control. You'll have to ask him how that turned out.

So a nice big group of twelve merry randonneurs set out from Redmond. Hammering along seemed to be the order of the day, and I only managed to eke out one legitimate coffee stop on the ride. The sun came out half-way through the ride and Bob and I stopped for espresso drinks at Vinaccio Coffee in Sultan. They roast their own beans and are delightful people as well.

We had a full regroup in North Bend about 160km and one good rain shower into the ride and all twelve of us enjoyed a nice fast paceline into the finish. A fun day. Tom took pictures and has promised to post soon.

Sunday Bob, Dan, and I still wanted more, so we joined Robin and Amy's training ride out of Renton. Great weather, great company, fast pace, and not enough coffee. Again. I'll have to offer a refresher course on the interrelationship of randonneuring and espresso.

More Great Southern Goodies

2008-11-17T15:07:00.000-08:00

Nice Medal

Google Map of Route (approximate)

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Before & after (Tired? Who, me?)

Maps by day (approximate)

Day 1

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Day 2

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Day 3

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Fenderless R-12

2008-11-15T20:03:00.000-08:00

Riding buddy Amy Pieper, who bills herself as a weather-wimp (and who is anything but), decided that she (1) wanted an R-12 award and (2) wanted to do all the rides on nice days. Living in the Pacific Northwest, with its 8 rainy months, makes this an audacious goal. Achieving the "Fenderless R-12" would require both a dedication to randonneuring and a keen eye on the weather forecast. In October, the Sunrise Climb fit the bill nicely.

This past week was dreary and wet in Seattle, but the Friday forecast looked promising. For the November installment of the Fenderless R-12, Amy first suggested the Crystal Mountain Climb, but a rain induced landslide closed the road to Greenwater (and high points beyond). A backup plan was hatched and the call went out for riders to come ride the Hood Canal Loop permanent on Friday instead.

Waiting for the 6:10AM ferry from Seattle to Bainbridge Island, I met Amy and Robin Pieper, Ralph and Carol Nussbaum, Matt Newlin, and Jack Brace. Robin was fresh off the plane from England the night before, so he was nice and jet lagged, offering hope to slower riders like me. (As it turns out, jet lag just makes Robin look tired; he still rides fast.)

But for a major coffee crisis, we had a great day. I had coffee in Bainbridge before we started, espresso at Port Gamble after 18 miles, and a bottled coffee drink in Quilcene after 38 miles. I was prepared to tough it out for the next 37 miles to the Hoodsport Coffee Company. But, I was not prepared for the sign on the door - "Closed. New Owners. Open Soon." Not only did this dash my dreams of a warm apple danish with vanilla ice cream washed down with a triple latte, I had to contemplate the darkness of an uncertain future of Hood Canal cycling coffee. Despite the nice lunch we had across the street, it took me miles and miles to regain any sort of equilibrium. A Starbucks DoubleShot in Shelton steadied my nerves, but barely, for the ride to the finish.

Thanks to Jack, Matt, the Piepers, and the Nussbaums for their good company. A nice (and hilly) day on the bike. No fenders required.

Great Southern Randonee 2008

2008-11-11T10:28:00.000-08:00

Background

In October 2001, fresh from London-Edinburgh-London and looking for my next randonneur challenge, I traveled to Melbourne, Australia for the 1200 kilometer Great Southern Randonnee (GSR). Despite being in relatively good shape, I came away with a Did Not Finish. I rode the first 500 kilometers of the ride under difficult conditions, including rain and 50-100kph headwinds. Of sixteen riders who started that year, seven were DNFs. I was the seventh rider to abandon; everyone who stuck it out just a bit longer was able to finish. As my Danish friend Stig Lundgard would remind me every time I saw him thereafter, quitting when I did was pretty stupid.

Despite the DNF, I had a great time in Australia. After abandoning the ride, I rode 250 kilometers back to the start, mostly on the course, but with a scenic detour. With tailwinds and nice weather (and a good night’s sleep), I thoroughly enjoyed the ride back, spending long periods at the manned controls and taking in the spectacular Great Ocean Road scenery. After the event, I had several opportunities to enjoy the company of the local audaxers, including on a nice ride partway around Port Philip Bay. My Audax Australia hosts were terrific in every respect.

Since 2001, the gut-gnawing memory of the DNF (to date my only DNF among ten 1200 kilometer or longer events) and the happier memories of riding and hanging out with the Australians have together exerted a strong pull to go back and ride the GSR again. The next edition was held in 2004 and I hoped to return then. Unfortunately, my 2004 randonneur season was shortened by injury after a 100 kilometer populaire, a 200 kilometer brevet, and a fleche. Returning to Australia that year was not an option.

2008 would bring the fourth running of the Great Southern and another chance at redemption. Already burning bright, my desire to return was stoked further by time spent with the Aussies at PBP 2007 and by the presence of old friends Peter and Barry Moore and new acquaintances Martin and Libby Haynes at the 2008 Cascade 1200, for which I was a volunteer.

To my dismay, 2007 ended and 2008 started with injury and my 2008 season was a bit challenged, to say the least. After a slow 24-hour 400 kilometer brevet and a similarly undistinguished time on the 600 kilometer brevet in our spring series and after being sick in June, I pulled out of the Rocky Mountain 1200 in July. I strongly suspect that skipping that ride was the correct decision, but I wasn’t particularly happy about it. Glowing reports from the participants only added to my grumpiness.

Our summer brevet series went a bit better, but culminated in a 600 kilometer brevet in September that I finished with less than an hour to spare. Despite the uninspiring time, the 600k actually boosted my confidence. I fought through a very deep low point before the overnight and finished a difficult course feeling pretty well. After the 600k, a few fun rides and permanents with friends kept me tuned up and brought me to the time for the GSR.

Before the Start

The randonneur (or audax, as the Brits and the Aussies say) club in the Australian state of Victoria owns a place as one of the premier randonneur clubs in the world. Each year it ranks at or near the top of the ACP points ranking of brevet participation. They have an extensive and diverse ride calendar and some of the most accomplished and fun randonneurs that I know. Extraordinary hospitality must come with the territory. When I told organizer Peter Moore that I would be coming for the event, he let me know that club members would take care of picking me up at the airport, putting me up in Melbourne before and after the ride, and getting me and my bike to and from the start/finish in Aireys Inlet.

Trusting in the offers, I made no plans of my own. Audrey Adler, a randonneur friend from southern California, was on my flight from LAX. In addition to riding the 1000 kilometer GSR route, she was also visiting family in Melbourne. In baggage claim, she asked if I needed a ride from the airport. Her cousin could drive. No, I said; “I have a ride.” “With whom?” “Well, I don’t know for sure.” “We could give you a ride.” “Not really,” I said, “I don’t know where I’m going.” I’m sure she thought that I was leaving a lot to chance.

No worries, as they say. Andy Moore, another of the Magnificent Moore Brothers, awaited outside baggage claim. He loaded me and bike up in van, pointed the way to the correct passenger side of the car, and dropped me off at the Surrey Hills home of Peter and Eileen Donnan (and their charming son Stuart).

I would be in their care for the next two weeks, and they couldn’t have been nicer. They have travelled the world by bicycle and are stalwarts of the local audax community. Peter is a three time PBP veteran (1991, 1995, and 2007) and was the routesheet guru for the GSR.

Saturday before the ride (which would start Monday afternoon), Barry Moore collected me at the Donnans and we rode into downtown Melbourne and back. Less than 40 kilometers, but a great opportunity to catch up and to regain the feel of riding on the “wrong” side of the road.

Using the right-side version of the Take-a-Look mirror was a helpful reminder. On the way, we stopped into Peter Moore's bike shop, home to the largest collection of Brooks saddles that I've ever seen.

In South Bank, we met up - for coffee of course - with Hans Dusink, former president of Randonneurs Mondiaux and of Audax Australia, and Carol Bell, a US resident (DC area) New Zealand expat in town for the GSR. Hans and Carol planned to ride the GSR together. Carol turned in a smoking performance at the 2008 Cascade 1200, so I didn’t expect to ride with them much on the GSR.

Sunday, Peter Donnan, Jan Erik Jensen (a Dane living in Sweden), and I went to Aireys Inlet to spend the night before the start. Eileen and Stuart met us there, and we walked around, checking out the nearby lighthouse and giving me my first real experience with the flies of Australia, seen here dotting Jan Erik's back. Riding closed-mouthed is a good idea!

Ride Plan

The GSR consists of an initial 210 kilometer loop to the east, followed by a 1000+ kilometer out-and-back to the west. A supported stop at Port Fairy (500km and 925km) divides the ride neatly into 500 kilometer, 425 kilometer, and 290 kilometer pieces. (My altimeter would later report that these segments had elevation gains of 4600 meters, 4200 meters, and 3200 meters, for a total elevation gain of 12,000 meters or 39,000 feet).

Although 500 kilometers is a lot for me to take on at once, the ride start would be at 5PM on Monday, so I thought it a reasonable plan to ride 500 kilometers straight through, to spend Tuesday night at Port Fairy, to ride a long (425km) day on Wednesday, to spend a late night back at Port Fairy again on Wednesday, and then to ride 300 kilometers to the finish Thursday and Friday. Bag drops would be available at Port Fairy and also at Port Campbell (370km/1050km). A bag left at the start could be accessed at 210km. Supported controls could also be found at Halls Gap (680km and 745km), Hamilton (840km), and Apollo Bay (1150km).

I didn’t have a very detailed ride plan in mind. My main plan was not to quit again. Recalling that I had quit just outside of Port Fairy in 2001, I told Martin and Libby Haynes, who would be volunteering there this time, that all I needed from them was to make sure that I kept going.

As always, I hoped to keep my stops efficient and try to build a time cushion that way, knowing that my on-the-bike speed was unlikely to be anything to write home about. Peter Donnan figured me out early, counting me among those randonneurs “who make up for lack of ability with lack of sleep.”

For food, I imported Ensure and Clif Blox from home with the idea that I could count on base calories from those items. I expected that I could carry food for the first 210 kilometers, restock at Aireys Inlet with food for the next 160 kilometers, restock at Port Campbell for the next 130 kilometers, restock at Port Fairy with emergency food for the next 425 kilometers, relying for that stretch on the legendary Pam and Grant control at Halls Gap and other roadside resources, restock again at Port Fairy for 130 kilometers, and finally restock at Port Campbell again for the last 160 kilometers. For rest, I planned to sleep at Port Fairy twice (at 500km and at 925km) and to grab naps as necessary along the rest of the way.

Bellarine Loop (0-209km)

From the traditional gravel start, the first 210 kilometers of the ride loop eastward to make a tour of the Bellarine Peninsula, the west pincer of the claw that surrounds Port Philip Bay. The first 85 kilometers took us generally eastward past the 2001 start location in Anglesea to Queenscliff (from which a ferry can connect you to the Mornington Peninsula curving around the bay from the east). A lovely tailwind and the last of the daylight joined us for this stretch. Typically, I started out from Aireys Inlet with some faster riders, who immediately dropped me on the first hill of any consequence. I rode much of this stretch alone, enjoying the brisk pace and great scenery, including the ocean views around Barwon Heads. For a bit, I chatted with Julian Dyson, one of two UK riders (Judith Swallow the other) visiting for the GSR 1200.

The staffed control at Queenscliff provided water refills and great sandwiches. I worked through the control quickly and headed out with Hans and Carol and John Retchford, an accomplished mountain climber and cyclist who was fascinating company. When I could keep up, that is.

We rode together along the bay at Portarlington, with the lights of Melbourne visible across the water in the distance, and then I fell off the pace before the cafe control in Geelong. I kept that stop to a minimum as well and rode most of the way back to Aireys Inlet with a quick moving group of cyclists. Hans and Carol dropped off in Anglesea for a pre-planned sleep break and I continued to Aireys Inlet, arriving a bit after 1:30AM. Even acknowledging the wind assist, covering the first 210 kilometers in 8.5 hours and putting more than 5 hours in the bank provided a nice confidence boost. While some riders stopped for a sleep break, I moved through the control fairly quickly, just eating from the great spread offered by the volunteers and restocking my handlebar bag with more base calories.

To Apollo Bay (209-273km)

The road from Aireys Inlet to Apollo Bay is spectacular, hugging the coastal hills and bathed in the sound of the surf below. For the visual part of this, I have to rely on my memory from 2001, because this time I traversed this section in the dark both ways. The night riding was peaceful and fast. I enjoyed most of it solo, with brief chats with faster riders catching up and passing me after their longer stops at Aireys Inlet. Volunteers Simon and Gordon served coffee and snacks at Apollo Bay because the store would not open for another hour or so.

The Otways (273-371km)

From Apollo Bay, the road leaves the ocean for an 80 kilometer tour through the Otway Range, returning for a brief kiss at Castle Cove before heading up into the hills again. Simon warned that the toughest hills of the ride were in the next section, and suggested that the ride would be easier after that. “Wouldn’t we be riding the same hills after 1000 kilometers?” “Oh, yes, there is that.”

The road climbs immediately out of Apollo Bay. Moseying (at best) up the hill in a drizzle, I was startled to note that I had company in the other lane. Displaying a gait somewhere between a bear’s trot and a beach ball’s roll, the koala seemed unfazed by the nearby cyclist with its strange lights. Remembering the camera in my bag, I fumbled for a picture. (One of only about 5 that I would take over 3.5 days of the ride. That camera represents weight I could probably eliminate!)

After the first climb, the route rewarded us with a beautiful stretch along a river valley toward the sea at Castle Cove. As I approached the cove, I could see the start of the Lavers Hill climb soaring off to the right. Lavers Hill is the highest point on the GSR at 472 meters. Although not a climb with the insistent length of a Cascade mountain pass back home, the trip up to Lavers was still a full breakfast of up with which to start the day. I reached Lavers Hill with speedy riders Tim Stredwick of Tasmania and Keri-Ann Smith of Canberra. I would see them from time to time on the ride as they’d pass me after some stop or another. Always cheerful, they made the ride look effortless. Keri-Ann and Tim sensibly stopped for some “brekky” in Lavers Hill, but I took off down to the sea.

Some 20 kilometers out from Port Campbell, the road returns to the ocean and takes you past the Twelve Apostles. These spectacular rock formations in the surf look, as best I can tell, nothing like apostles. And there aren’t 12 of them, either. Nonetheless, this is a glorious section of the ride. In need of a break, I struggled up and down the little hills on this section before arriving at the control at Port Campbell.

Encouraging volunteers swarmed the control, cooking and catering to riders’ every need. I had the chance to catch up with Bob Bednarz, who (along with Ann) hosted me in 2001. Feeling quite grubby, I happily recalled that I had tucked extra base layer and shorts in my drop bag, so I headed off to take a shower. Aaaaah! I washed my shorts and hung them up to dry in the cabin so I could enjoy the same great feeling on my return two or so days later.

Port to Port (371-498km)

From Port Campbell, the route leaves the Great Ocean Road to head inland. Other than the nice bakery control at Cobden, there is little to recommend this choice. After DNF’ing in 2001, I rode back along the omitted section of the Great Ocean Road and thought it spectacular.

The 40 kilometers to Cobden has some nice riding as the road rolls along from creek to creek. I had plenty of time to enjoy it as my pace slowed. At the bakery in Cobden, I found the three keys to my getting through the upcoming 90 kilometers to the overnight stop in Port Fairy. Predictably enough to those who know me, the first two were a deep black cup of coffee and an apple pastry. Even more welcome, however, was the company of Greg Lansom, one of the “mongrel dogs” of Wollongong (outside Sydney) that I had met on the 2001 GSR. We had suffered together in the headwinds in 2001, but while I quit, he and his riding buddy toughed it out and finished just within time. Riding alone this year, Greg agreed to ride the next stretch with me.

The road from Cobden to Warnambool seemed dismal. Thoroughly boring countryside offset by the adrenaline rushes of big double trucks coming past on the shoulderless road. The highway through Warnambool wasn’t much more fun. After 400+ kilometers on the bike and a night without sleep, my attitude could have been better. Greg’s company on this stretch was a life-saver. After Tower Hill we left the highway to take the back way into Port Fairy. Here we encountered the stiffest headwinds of the ride, but they were but a whisper compared to the 2001 winds. We arrived at the control around 6:30PM, in great shape as far as time went, with close to 8 hours up on the brevet time clock.

I craved a beer, but none was to be had. Aside from that, however, no rider need went unmet at this terrific control. Libby and Martin Haynes and other wonderful volunteers had delicious soup and other goodies. Hot showers, clean clothes, and bunk beds awaited. My goal was three hours of sleep, which normally works well for me on longer rides. I asked for a wake-up in 3.5 hours and clambered into my (upper) bunk for some sleep. Sad to say, however, sleep didn’t come my way at all. The same thing had happened to me in 2001 and I believe that my DNF was attributable, in part, to that lack of sleep.

After 3 hours of tossing around, I got up and had a second dinner. Although too nice to mention it at the time, Martin told me later that I looked awful. I didn’t feel too good either, with my stomach complaining angrily about the whole endeavor. I figured that if I headed out slowly my stomach would settle and that I could nap as needed along the way. I was on the road before midnight Tuesday.

To and From the Grampians (498-840km)

Wednesday would be a very long day. Only 425 kilometers, but over 25 hours on the road. The first stretch, an 85 kilometer run to the next control at Hamilton, found me moving particularly slowly. Partially this was intentional, as I sought to calm my grumpy stomach. Partially, I suspect, it was the result of the sleep failure. Only the occasional stump fire spewing sparks ahead of the impending burn ban broke up the monotony of the relatively featureless terrain. I reminded myself that I quit on this stretch in 2001 and that I was determined not to do so again.

“Oh look, it’s Mark,” I hear through a bit of a fog as I catnapped on the sidewalk outside the public restrooms in the small town of MacArthur, 50 kilometers into this stretch. Keri-Ann and Tim were coming through, as were a few other riders. I stumbled back onto the bike seeking company for the next 35 kilometers into Hamilton. With my anemic pace, this effort proved only modestly successful, but I ran into a group of riders at the dreary service station control in Hamilton.

I headed out of Hamilton solo but was soon joined by Peter Donnan for the 30 kilometer stretch to Dunkeld, where he dropped me off at the town park in the first light of morning for another go at a nap. The baby changing room looked like a cozy spot, but the door opened only a bit before hitting another dozing rider. I leaned on the wall outside instead. As I started to drift off, I sensed a companion presence and opened my eyes to find the biggest spider I’ve ever seen perched on my knee. (Presumably a huntsman spider). That sight proved more invigorating than any coffee and I remounted my bike for the trip into the Grampians National Park.

The wildlife of Dunkeld had not finished with me. Not 3 kilometers out of town, I’m startled with what feels like a stone smacking into my helmet. The flutter of wings tells me that it’s not a stone. My sleepy brain figures out that it must be a magpie. (“Spring in Australia is magpie season, when a small minority of breeding magpies around the country become aggressive and swoop and attack those who approach their nests, especially bike riders.” - Wikipedia). Just as I figure this out, SMACK - he nails me again. Not interested in finding out just how many times the bird (birds?) would attack the same cyclist, I sprint off -- aided by a handy bit of downhill. I catch up to the riders ahead and proudly report my initiation into the fraternity of magpie-swooped Australian cyclists. If you ever see cyclists with cable ties sticking straight up from their helmets, they’ve probably been riding in Australia. Barry Moore showed me this defense before the GSR, but then told me that the magpie-swooping season was over and that he’d be taking the cable ties off before the ride. Barry’s cycling is much better than his ornithology.

The next 65 kilometers brought some of the most spectacular scenery of the ride. At the southern gateway to the Grampians, the morning sun turned Mt. Abrupt orange. The road rose over a foothill and then down into the park. Kangaroos (or perhaps wallabies - I’m fuzzy on which is which) would bound out of the bush, hop along the road for a bit, and then bound back into the bush. A few stumpy-tailed lizards oozed along the roadway; many more had met their fate at the hands of passing vehicles. Traffic was low and the surroundings captivating; I felt strong and full of energy for the first time this day.

Anticipation of the control in Halls Gap provided further impetus. The hospitality of Pam and Grant Palmer is legendary. Missing their control in 2001 was yet another reason to regret my DNF. Sure enough, I pulled in around 9:30 to a roaring outdoor fire, delicious soup and other goodies, and kind ministrations from Pam and Grant. I briefly retired to a bunk for a nap, but decided that I was more interested in riding. I felt great, despite the contrary evidence of a contemporaneous photo.

Peter Donnan and I left together around 10:15AM for the 65 kilometer out-and-back segment to/from Moyston. The road, at least at the start, was less flat than advertised, but nonetheless was a nice break from the hillclimbing before Halls Gap. The opportunities offered to see other riders spaced out on the road make out-and-backs great fun on long rides. We saw the leading riders as we headed out and the rest of the field as we returned. The store at Moyston marked the turnaround point for the GSR, but because of the initial loop to the east, it was well past the halfway point of the event. Only 500 kilometers to go. A celebratory ice cream bar seemed in order. A tailwind back to Halls Gap rewarded our work into the wind on the way out and Peter and I arrived back at the control at around 2PM and availed ourselves of more of Pam and Grant's hospitality.

The 65 kilometers back to Dunkeld provided the same great scenery as we had in the morning, but somehow the hills seemed steeper, longer, and more numerous. In particular the climb back out of the park sapped my energy. Peter and I stopped for a soda in town and took a break. The next 30 kilometers from Dunkeld to Hamilton seemed twice that distance. All told it was almost 6 hours for the 100 kilometers between Halls Gap and Hamilton and we arrived at the control about 8PM.

Rando Purgatory (840-925km)

On the return trip, Hamilton had a manned control. Although a vast improvement over the morning’s gas station stop, it somehow didn’t do much for me. I wasn’t interested in the food offerings and decided not to nap. Clean clothes, a shower, and a real bed awaited back in Port Fairy and I really wanted to get there.

After some faffing around at the control, I headed off with Peter Donnan and Greg Lansom. Without their company, I might still be wandering aimlessly on the Hamilton-Port Fairy road. At this point, I was well over 50 hours without sleep. The road seemed endless. I was somewhere in a land beyond Tired and bordering on Delirium. I couldn’t keep firmly in mind exactly what it was that I was doing out there. For a while I was convinced that I was a headlight and taillight tester, but couldn’t keep track of what I was supposed to be testing. Occasionally I would drift into the shoulder, which would momentarily bring alertness. Then a whole cycle of weirdness would start again. Complete rando freak show.

About 25 kilometers before Port Fairy, I could see its lights. But I would ride and ride and they seemed to get no closer. Nothing about the terrain was difficult, but the distance felt infinite. Rarely has my rando soul been more tortured.

Eventually, of course, we reached Port Fairy and despite a few questionable turns found ourselves in the randonneur heaven of the youth hostel control. Despite the time-warping ride in, we were 12 hours up on the clock on arrival. Kind volunteers brought welcome food and plenty of encouragement. This time, Martin Haynes had a beer in his hand for me. After a delicious dinner and a hot shower, I crawled into the top bunk with my beer bottle. I finished it off and fell happily and deeply asleep for the first time in days. Bliss.

Port to Port - Reprise (925-1053km)

Peter and I awoke and had a fine breakfast before heading out in daylight around 6:00. Despite the squalls heard on the roof during breakfast, dry weather greeted us on the road. We were in great shape for time, with more than 28 hours to cover the last 290 kilometers and with 7 hours up on the clock. The long slog to Cobden brought us back to the bakery. A bacon and egg pie made a great second breakfast and another “long black” coffee stoked the fires for the trip to Port Campbell.

Although the 40 kilometers from Cobden to Port Campbell gives up elevation as the road returns to the sea, this leg sure had more ups and downs than I remembered from Tuesday. But the weather was beautiful and the riding joyful.

In before 2PM, we once again had about 10 hours up on the clock and only about 160km to go. The Port Campbell control was wonderful. I took a shower and changed shorts and then sat down to lunch. Merryn offered banana splits and I opted to start lunch with ice cream. Peter Donnan, who was brought up to eat the good-for-you food before dessert, looked over jealously. Quite a few riders were around and the atmosphere was festive. Jan Erik celebrated his birthday with a nap on the grass.

The Otways - Reprise (1053-1151km)

From Port Campbell we returned to the lovely road along the ocean.

The scenic ocean stretch gave way to those “toughest hills of the ride” - a bit tougher the second time around. Greg caught up and snapped a few pictures.

Earlier, Peter Donnan had tagged me with a nice euphemism for slow, saying that I was “a diesel” chugging steadily up the hills at a grind-it-out cadence. Along the way up to Lavers Hill, however, the diesel stalled and I sat on a guard rail looking for some spark to continue. A bag of Clif Blox (Black Cherry, with caffeine) provided the necessary fuel and I caught up with Peter and Greg and other riders hanging out at the store in Lavers Hill.

After Lavers Hill the route takes in some pretty sections down to the ocean at Glenaire/Castle Cove, then rolls along nice flats to Hordern Vale, and then climbs uphill again. No koala sightings this time, just some good riding (and more slow dieseling up the hill) in the last light of the day. A screaming descent brought me to the Apollo Bay control, just a few minutes behind Peter and Greg.

Andy of the Magnificent Moores brought his family to the Apollo Bay control to care for the riders. His son Aidan checked us in and his daughter Siobhan made wonderful food. I had soup, pasta, and other goodies. Peter, Greg and I decided to ride into the finish. Other riders were choosing to stay the night and to finish the ride in the morning. We may have been the last night departures and would have left sooner except that I spied another rider eating something I had missed. Our departure had to wait for a made-to-order grilled cheese sandwich with tomatoes and ham.

To the Finish (1151-1215km)

The Great Ocean Road from Apollo Bay to Airey’s Inlet is beautiful. Many of the riders opting to sleep at Apollo Bay did so with the idea of riding this scenic section by daylight. Peter, Greg, and I enjoyed a different, but no less marvelous, experience. Minimal traffic, maximal stars, and a wonderful soundtrack of surf below. Interrupted only by a short break in Lorne and a pause to fix a balky shifter on Greg’s bike, these 64 kilometers were a magical end to the ride.

Well maybe 63 kilometers of magic. The motel in Aireys Inlet sits on top of a hill. I attacked the hill for all I was worth for a triumphant finish. Unfortunately, all I was worth at that point was about half of the hill. So instead, I limped into the finish deep in my granny gear. Greg and Peter waited so we could finish together.

Over beer we celebrated. The next morning, a different finisher was heard on the phone telling her husband that she wouldn’t be home for a while, because everyone was still busy “talking about how good we are.” It took us a while, and another beer, to get off to sleep because I, too, needed to talk about how good we were. Funny, I certainly remember feeling a lot better than the picture suggests!

My time of 80:10 was my second best 1200km time in nine finishes. The monkey that had been on my back since 2001 found itself suddenly homeless.

Many pictures borrowed from GSR gallery. Thanks to all the photographers.

Great Southern Redemption

2008-10-30T07:19:00.000-07:00

2001 - Great Southern Randonnee - DNF - Epic Fail
2008 - Great Southern Randonnee - 80:10 - Epic Ride

Great ride. Thanks to Peter and Greg, my Aussie riding buddies, and to all the wonderful folks who organized and supported the ride.

More later. Need to find beer, food, shower, and bed.

100km to Lunch; 100km to Dinner

2008-10-13T11:07:00.000-07:00

On Sunday, seven SIRs met up at the Mukilteo ferry terminal to do the Whidbey-La Conner permanent that starts on the Whidbey side of the ferry crossing. One other SIR showed up at the Edmonds ferry terminal, which didn't work out so well. The forecast promised a nice cool clear day.

We had a fast, fun ride up the island, stopping just before the Deception Pass bridge to take on water and fuel and to discuss the pressing matters of the day.

Joe Platzner and Bob Brudvik:

Vincent Muoneke (a.k.a. the good doctor):

Trudy Frantz:

Alan Bell and Steve Davis:

Crossing the bridge:
Happy, goofy, and halfway across:

On the way to La Conner, I discovered a good reason to sit back and draft, rather than get up front and risk perdition.
At the halfway point in La Conner we enjoyed a great lunch at the La Conner Brewing Company. My need for carb replenishment forced me to have a stout with lunch.

Usual Skagit Valley roads took us to the Arlington control and the Centennial Trail brought us to the Snohomish control. We climbed up the knee-breaker hill into Everett and cruised down to Mukilteo, spurred on by the thought of celebratory beer and pizza at the Diamond Knot. A very nice day on the bicycle.

Footnote: At the Diamond Knot, another patron spotted our randonneur jerseys and asked if we had just finished a brevet. We're not used to having strangers familiar with our odd terminology, so this piqued our interest. As it turns out, we were speaking with Ken Brooker, one of the original Seattle randonneurs. He was quite interested to learn how the club had grown since his time with it. We urged him to come back and ride with us.

Cured?

2008-10-02T10:45:00.000-07:00

I saw the warning posted to the SIR list:

Apparently there is a bug going around. A few local cyclists were infected at a brewpub in Issaquah today. Concerned epidemiologists expect a rash of sick days to be taken this Wednesday (October 1). Among the symptoms of the dreaded bug are (1) a hunger for breakfast at the Black Diamond Bakery at 7AM Wednesday, (2) a craving to ride 200k on the first of October to bag another R-12 month, (3) a mid-day lightheadedness at 6400' elevation at Sunrise, and (4) a giddy feeling from a long, fast descent. For more information on this illness, see http://permanents.seattlerando.org/2007/02/0243-sunrise-climb.html

If you feel yourself coming down with any or all of these symptoms come meet your fellow sufferers at Black Diamond for a 7AM support group meeting. Bring diagnostic information on the form available at http://docs.google.com/Doc?id=dfvfw4fm_0f4s9gnd5

I'll plan to bring prescription treatment in the form of a brevet card and route sheet. Those preferring home remedies can mix their own route sheet treatment at http://docs.google.com/Doc?id=dfvfw4fm_0f4s9gnd5

The support group convened at the Black Diamond Bakery yesterday at 7AM.

The outbreak had spread and sufferers came from hundreds of miles away (John Kramer, White Salmon, WA and David Rowe, Lake Oswego, OR) and from right around the corner (Eamon Stanley, Covington, WA and Tim Halstead, Maple Valley, WA). Fellow patients also included David Harper, Gary Prince, Robin and Amy Pieper, Vincent Muoneke, Trudy Frantz, Matt Newlin, and Bill Gobie. We confirmed our symptoms over a hearty breakfast and headed out at 8AM to seek treatment.

Treatment Plan

The initial phase of the 200km treatment was an uphill climb, to be sure, but the circumstances could not have been better. We had a perfect day, with clear skies and great temperatures. The views of Mount Rainier could not help but lift the patients' spirits. After four hours of low-dose treatment, we entered the Mount Ranier National Park facility for the intense 25-kilometer critical phase of the cure. After two hours of this, I reached the 6400-foot peak dosage of our treatment regime, along with Amy, Robin, Matt, Gary, Tim, and David H. (Eamon, John, and David R were on a faster plan and Vincent, Trudy, and Bill were on a more relaxed plan).

Nearly cured

After a fast and exhilarating descent, we celebrated our good health with a late lunch from the nice folks at Greenwater Outfitters. Sandwiches, ice cream, espresso drinks. Afterwards we made quick work of the last 45km, arriving back in Black Diamond at around 6PM. Over pizza and beer, we pronounced ourselves cured. Unfortunately, it appears that this is a disease for which relapses are likely.

Cleaning Up

2008-09-27T20:41:00.000-07:00

To work up an appetite (and a thirst) before the SIR annual meeting today, many club members met to clean up our adopted section of East Lake Sammamish Parkway.

Amy Pieper gave us our marching orders.

And march we did.

Also spotted: Robert Higdon and Chris Gay approaching the end of their ride-all-night permanent.

Coffee Ride

2008-09-25T14:16:00.000-07:00

Triple latte - Bremerton Starbucks

Don Boothby posted a plan for a "play hooky" permanent on Wednesday on our 215km South Hood Canal route. I met him at the ferry dock in Seattle for the 6AM Bremerton ferry. At the Starbucks in Bremerton, we met Steve Davis who drove up from Olympia and Jon Muellner who drove down from Port Townsend. We caught up over coffee and pastries while waiting for our 7:30 start.

Three shots propelled me through our first 67.5km to Hoodsport. Despite the dreary, rainy weather forecast, we had a beautiful ride along the Hood Canal from Belfair to Hoodsport. Light skies with occasional sun breaks. We commented on our good fortune and hoped not to jinx it. Although 22.5km/shot was pushing the high end of tolerance, our favorite summer coffee stand just west of the Alderbrook resort was closed for the season, so we pushed on.

Triple latte - Hoodsport Coffee Company

Bypassing the convenience stores in Potlatch and Hoodsport, we made a beeline for the Hoodsport Coffee Company. This cozy, friendly coffee shop has long been a favorite ride stop for me and well worth the extra time off the bike. I opted for a cookie, but thought Don's apple danish looked awfully tasty.

The 40km north along the Canal from Hoodsport held a nice surprise for us. The highway department appears to be in the late stages of a road improvement project. We found nice new pavement and much improved shoulders. Jon thought the work was in preparation for the planned set week closure of the Hood Canal bridge next spring. We also encountered a few one-lane sections that had the salutary effect of bunching up motor vehicle traffic and leaving nice gaps when no cars and trucks would come past us. A section of roadway that normally mixes scenic views with stressful riding was remarkably pleasant. Although the rain finally showed up, we made good time on this stretch and arrived at the turnaround in Brinnon before noon.

Canned Starbucks "DoubleShot" - Brinnon Tesoro

The cashier at the Brinnon convenience store has seen many permanent riders over the years, so she was quick to profer receipts for our proofs of passage. In addition to my can of what Kent Peterson once called "nitro for cyclists" we fueled up with a few munchies to get us back to Hoodsport. The rain started to let up on the way back and the kilometers flew by, especially after Don and I crafted a plan to make the best use of our Hoodsport stop and rode all the faster to put the plan into place sooner.

Triple latte - Hoodsport Coffee Company

Don and I arrived back at the coffee shop a bit ahead of Jon and Steve, which allowed time for plan implementation. To accompany our espresso drinks, we ordered fresh apple danishes and a big cup of their locally made premium vanilla ice cream. With judicious application of the handy microwave to our pastries, we soon had big dollops of ice cream melting into warmed apple yumminess. Jon and Steve arrived to see the tail end of this blissful consumption and immediately put their own similar plans into place.

The ride back along the Canal to Belfair was a bit of a buzz-killer. Twenty miles of relentless chipseal and increasing rain put us in a "let's just get it done" frame of mind.

20oz iced mocha - Michelle's Espresso in Belfair

Though less than 25km from the finish, Don needed a nature / water stop. I took advantage of the opportunity to fill my water bottle with an iced mocha from the friendly espresso stand on the corner. The bottle proved to be the perfect tonic as the rain approached car wash intensity for the rest of the way to the finish. Back in Bremerton, we had time to kill waiting for Jon and Steve and then for our ferry. Coffee had done its duty for the day, so I switched to beer and food at the odd, but cheerful Fritz European Fry House near the ferry.

Kept close to 15km/espresso shot, a fine randonneur pace.

The Moon and the Mountain

2008-09-17T19:47:00.001-07:00

[Inertia became a real problem in my posting hiatus. My blog at rest tended to stay at rest. Each time I prepared to add an entry, I felt the need to start with a some explanation and lots of catch-up. This would prove daunting and I'd set it aside, which only made the problem worse the next time. Enough already. I may never explain myself or describe where my bikes and I have been for the last three months. I missed the Rocky Mountain 1200, but had some nice rides closer to home. Nothing as awesome as last weekend's 600, however, which exerted enough force to overcome the inertia.]

Not my finest hour (or two, or three, or maybe more). By turns walking, riding, throwing up, and sitting on the guardrail trying to settle my stomach, I was making poor progress up White Pass on our 600k brevet Saturday night. Last or near last among the riders on the course, I began to lose confidence that I could finish the ride. Of course, that confidence was at best a thin veneer from the start. "Petrified" was apparently the word I had used earlier in the week to describe to Robert Higdon my state of mind about the 600k.

That the ride came advertised as "challenging with four major climbs" in a year where my climbing resembled that of a broken elevator did not enhance my confidence. Memory of a DNF at the top of White Pass on a similar course in 2000 weighed on my mind. Lanterne rouge status on the Mountain 110km populaire the previous weekend certainly brought little comfort.

Not attempting the brevet was tempting - I already had a challenging 600k to my credit this year so maybe I didn't need another. Or maybe I should head down to Oregon for a (possibly) easier 600k the next weekend. But ours was a siren song I couldn't resist. I knew from working with Jan Heine, Ryan Hamilton, and Mark Vande Kamp on the route that a spectacular course was planned. We would get up close and personal with two of the Cascade volcanoes (Rainier and Saint Helens) and would likely see at least two others (Adams and Hood). We would climb a forest service road (#26) that had been calling me from the map, but on which I had never ventured. We would explore some side roads where we often just take the highway. And as the weekend approached, the weather forecast zeroed in on perfect.

Friday afternoon found me in Eatonville dining (and listening to the singing busboy) with Bill Dussler, Robin Pieper, and Bob Brudvik. Robin and Bob planned to ride fast and wanted to carpool with me. I couldn't reconcile these two ideas in my mind but gave them a key to the car so they could go sightseeing Sunday while waiting for me to come in. Later in the evening, I caught a glimpse of what would be my two steadfast riding companions for the brevet - the full moon and Mount Rainier.

With a sendoff from Jan and Ryan, we started off at 4AM under a bright moon. On the first climb out of town over to Alder Lake and the Nisqually river valley, all but one of the bikes turned to red lights disappearing ahead. Sal Ortega, visiting from Oregon, hung back and we rode together for the first 175km of the brevet. Sal stopped from time to time to take pictures and I was inspired to do the same. I have some pictures from the first 200km of the brevet and none at all after that, as my focus narrowed more and more to the task at hand.

I've always enjoyed the ride up to Paradise from the Nisqually side. It seems that I always do this 4000 foot climb early in a ride when fresh. On a clear day, the views of the mountain are wonderful. For the 600k, the sun came up on a perfect day as we climbed up to the visitor center and inn.

With a big climb early in the ride (70km), I was already bumping against minimum brevet speed. But the descent, interrupted briefly by a Reflection Lake gawk and the Backbone Ridge climb and a secret control manned, was speedy, scenic, and fun. By Packwood, we had an hour and a half in the bank, some of which was spent on delicious espresso at the Butter Butte coffee shop). For most of the day, this timing pattern continued - at the top of the climbs, I'd be very close to minimum brevet speed and would get some margin on the downhill, but not much.

The short stretch down the Cowlitz River valley to Randle offered an easy, quick, and mostly flat break from the major climbs of the ride. We followed a nice backroad into the Randle control, where Geoff Swarts and daughter Jessica seemed a bit skeptical of my rate of progress.

After the first sharp climb into the Gifford Pinchot forest on our usual road (FR25), we peeled off onto FR26. Signs warned that washouts closed the road ahead. Pre-riders Ryan and Geoff had reported the washouts passable, so I was a bit puzzled by a cryptic note from Jan on an SIR sign warning that riders should be comfortable carrying their bicycles. We would later find that, seeking to deter motorcyclists from using the closed road, the forest service had dug deep trenches across the road in multiple places and piled the dirt from those trenches on either side. This made for some challenging cyclocross.

Washouts and obstacles notwithstanding, the trip up FR26 was spectacular. Car traffic was virtually non-existent. From time to time, I could look back to see Mt. Rainier continuing to overlook my ride. As we neared the top, we could start to see some of the scarred tree reminders of the devastation from eruption, now nearly 30 years in the past. With a couple of steep pitches, the trenches were not the only places that I dismounted to walk the bike. (Good practice for later).

At the intersection with FR99, Jan had set up a control. With FR99 closed from a few miles east of his spot and FR26 closed south of him, Jan had hauled 75 pounds of supplies up on his bike and in a trailer. The control was for the return, so I stopped only briefly before heading up to the information control and turnaround at Windy Ridge. The next 25km were the only out-and-back section of the ride and offered an opportunity to see the other, faster riders. Spirits seemed high.

The closed-to-traffic road to Windy Ridge was a joy. Navigating around the road hazards required attention, but knowing that the road was ours alone made it easy and enjoyable. I'm always stunned at the sight of Spirit Lake and its logjams of trees stripped and downed by the eruption. Also glorious on the way back down from Mt. St. Helens is the view offered of the other Cascade volcanoes. From one spot you can see Rainier, Hood, and Adams. Nearby Mount Adams is especially prominent.

Jan's oasis still had a few riders when I got back. After food and drink and helpful advice from Jan (as he has before, he advised me to ride faster) I took off down the mountain. I tried to keep up with Robert Higdon (ride story here) and Matt Mikul (ride story here), but as with ascending, they descended faster than I did. The route took us much of the way back to Packwood on the side of the Cowlitz opposite US-12. The joy of the low-traffic road was tempered somewhat by the chipseal and the frequent little hills (apparently the highway got first choice and picked the flat side). I caught up to Robert and Matt and we rode much of the way into Packwood together. Robert appeared to struggle and I slowed a bit to pace him into the control.

At Packwood, I fueled for what I knew would be a long (100+ km), difficult stretch to the next control in Naches. In retrospect, the prepackaged sandwich may have been a poor idea. I thought I'd leave with Robert and Matt, but Robert's achilles tendon was calling it a day and Matt hung back to sort things out with Robert. Anticipating (dreading, really) big bump number three, I headed out into the moonlight.

As with previous rides eastward over White Pass, things went less than smoothly and I found myself in the ugly walk, ride, barf, and sit rhythm mentioned earlier. Soon, however, the moon and the mountain came to my rescue. An incredible glimpse of Mount Rainier glowing silver in the moonlight reminded me of what great fortune it is to live and ride here among these majestic surroundings. Knowing that my negative fuel intake barred all but the lightest of efforts, I geared all the way down, satisfied with any forward progress. With an odd melange of joy and despair, beauty and suffering, I eventually found myself at White Pass summit. Although far from certain about Sunday's ride, I knew I'd make it to Naches tonight.

Rounding Clear Lake and Rimrock Lake I hit another low point. Sitting on the cooler left at the info control location, it took all my energy to persuade a good samaritan in a giant pickup truck that I was fine and needed no assistance. "It's a long ride" was the best answer I could give to "What's wrong, buddy?" Before long, however, the sight of the moon (working alone this time) reflecting off Rimrock Lake provided rejuvenation. A general downhill trend didn't hurt either. From the bridge below the dam, the moonlight Tieton River shimmered like quicksilver. The next 20 miles to the control went quickly, with a sneaky sleepiness my only obstacle. A tailwind into town provided a nice final push. I could worry later about the corollary headwind on the trip back west.

Kind souls (Ryan, Geoff, and Jessica) offered food, drink, and a place to sleep. They were too nice to tell me then, but let me know later that I didn't look so great when I came in. With only about an hour and a half until the control close time and with a still unsettled stomach, I quickly opted for a nap, abandoning a half bowl of delicious chili. When it's all you have time for, a 45 minute snooze can be remarkably refreshing. I had more chili for breakfast and headed off into the headwind as the lanterne rouge.

The climb up to Chinook Pass is long, but the grades are gentle for the most part. The morning winds are tough, but worst at the bottom of the hill and less and less of a force as you ascend. The only services on the 125km from Naches to Greenwater are 40km out, at Clifdell. My late start ensured that there would be no concern with the store being closed. Bob Koen, visiting from BC, was fueling up and nicely waited for me to do the same. We headed out together and would ride together to the finish. We stopped short of the pass summit to true around a broken spoke on his wheel, but otherwise had a good ride to the top.

The descent from Chinook Pass to Cayuse Pass brought unbridled joy. Awesome views of Rainier once again from Tipsoo Lake. Glimpses of Mount Adams in the distance. Brand new pavement to put the "whee!" into our wheels. And lunch in Greenwater couldn't be too far off. We avoided the singletrack detour taken by earlier riders around a road closed for a motorcycle wreck. Instead we braved the shoulder alongside the now alternating traffic. Doors opening, drunks urinating, and trailers in the shoulder were probably evenly matched obstacles to the roots and ruts of the singletrack.

At this point, a finish seemed quite likely. The only edgy moments came with the belated observation that the cue sheet showed nearly 15km of extra distance over 600km and the subsequent discovery that the cue sheet had one 4 mile section of road marked as 0.1 mile. More than 20k of extra distance on the toughest 600k of my career. Ouch.

Bob and I picked up Rick Blacker at the last control in Orting and we finished together, just after 7PM, with just under an hour to spare. Up ahead of the finish line loomed the mountain, looking satisfied.

[After hammering all day Saturday, car pool buddies Bob and Robin opted for an 8 hour overnight stop in Naches, so they had only to wait only a couple hours for me. Not that I cared, really; I was just delighted and proud to finish].

Caution - Morons on Road Ahead

2008-06-22T08:14:00.000-07:00

Yesterday morning, a small gathering of usual suspects and new victims assembled in a grocery store parking lot in Covington to ride the Crystal Mountain Climb permanent (RUSA #241). Bob Brudvik, Mike Richeson, Ralph Nussbaum, Steve Davis, Don Jameson, Ole Mikkelsen, Alan Bell, and I met for coffee and to start the ride up to Crystal Mountain. Rick Haight, still recovering from a recent spill, joined the group with plans to ride partway with us and then head home.

The ride started well - the occasional drizzle never turned into anything substantial. The route took us to the first control at Cumberland via Black Diamond and the wonderful road down to and across the Green River Gorge. We battled a headwind up to Greenwater, where we stopped for coffee at our new favorite spot (the place that opened up to serve us ice cream the previous weekend) before pushing on to Crystal Mountain. The ride up to the ski resort offers glorious views down the valley. At the top, the others were lounging on the steps waiting for me to arrive. The wait was long (I layered a full-on, rookie-mistake, no-breakfast bonk on top of my already weak climbing), but I heard no complaints.

On the way back, we stopped again in Greenwater for some really good sandwiches. Steve had a reprise of last week's ice cream. On the way back to Enumclaw, the route turns south along Mud Mountain Road. We warned the new riders that the long descent demands caution, with sharp turns many of which are littered with sand and gravel. We forgot to mention the morons.

Given the twisty descent, we single-filed and spread out. The lead riders noticed a car driving too fast up the hill. On its way to a particularly sharp right (for him) turn, the car started to go wide, missing Alan by three feet and aiming for Bob and me (the last two of the group). With too much speed, the driver did not navigate the turn at all and came skidding over to our side of the road. (Note the skid marks all the way to the edge of the pavement on our side of the road). Bob had no place to go, but turned his bike toward the side in time to avoid a full head-on. The car hit him broadside and sent him up over the hood and onto the road on his back. Bob says it played out in slow-motion for him, but from my vantage point right behind, it was quick, ugly, and very painful looking.

Moron rolled his window down for a perfunctory "are you ok?" and then started to drive off. We loudly and vigorously suggested that he not leave the scene of an accident. Apparently convinced, moron pulled over. The neighbors, who couldn't have been nicer, called 911 for us and brought Bob a chair. Ralph and Don rode back to the start to get Bob's truck. The rest of us waited quite some time for the arrival of law enforcement; the neighbor observed that their corner of the county wasn't known for quick response. We're lucky that Bob was not more seriously injured. The deputies took our statements and chatted with moron. In addition to his traffic transgressions, moron was cited for expired plates and lack of insurance. Charming.

The others headed back on their bikes and I waited with Bob for Don. We loaded up and headed back to the start. The other riders were just pulling in, so we had coffee and cookies and lamented moron's intrusion into our lives.

I spoke to Bob this morning and he feels better than yesterday, but pretty sore. We're probably lucky that the incident wasn't much worse. Bob's bike isn't too happy. Front wheel and saddle are broken; other damage will probably show up on closer inspection. Tough Bob also left an impression on moron's car, breaking his license plate holder and dimpling his hood. The original plan:

The Mountain is Out

2008-06-15T11:45:00.000-07:00

When the skies are clear in Seattle, locals may say that "the mountain is out." Although we are surrounded by mountains of various description, the phrase has a specific meaning - that Mount Rainier visibly looms over the area. This spectacular sight is one of the great joys of living here. The mountain offers many ways to experience its grandeur - climb it, ski it, hike it, or just gaze at it. Given my own obsession, it should come as no surprise that my favorite way is to ride my bicycle around it.

Cycling Mount Rainier plays a key role in my history with randonneuring. Shortly after I started riding seriously and riding longer distances (a 2-day Seattle-to-Portland double century in 1996 and a 1-day STP in 1997), I set my sights on a classic of the local cycling scene. Each July, the Redmond Cycling Club (RCC), with which SIR shares many members, organizes RAMROD - The Ride Around Mount Rainier in One Day. I had heard that high demand made entries difficult to obtain. Not realizing that it wouldn't matter, I joined RCC in hopes of increasing my chances to ride. One benefit of membership was the RCC newsletter, which among other things, listed rides of possible interest to the membership. My first newsletter included a mention of a Seattle International Randonneurs 200km brevet. It seemed a bit extreme to ride 125 miles at the beginning of April, but I signed up anyway. Ten years later, I have ridden over 50,000 randonneur kilometers (a mark I passed without noticing on the 400km brevet earlier this year), but it started with me trying to get a leg up on a ride around Mount Rainier.

In addition to RCC's terrific event, the ride around Mount Rainier now also exists as a RUSA permanent (#126). With nice weather in the forecast, for the weekend, I sent an invitation to the SIR mailing list to join me in riding the permanent. Takers included Rick Blacker, Steve Davis, Amy Pieper (on her first permanent), Robin Pieper, and Mark Roberts. One other rider came to the start, discovered his helmet was missing, and unhappily headed back home.

With great company, jaw-dropping scenery, delightful weather, heart-pounding climbs, and screaming descents, the day was simply perfect. Highlights: The first views of the mountain as the sky cleared approaching Ashford. Singing (ok, only a highlight for me) on the long climb to Paradise. (Along with Blood Sweat & Tears, I was "gonna get me a piece of the sky" as I ascended). Relaxing in the sun outside the newly remodeled Paradise Inn. High speed descent to the park entrance at Stevens Canyon. Riding companions waiting patiently atop the long slog up Cayuse Pass. Passing a closed deli in Greenwater, audibly lamenting the missed ice cream opportunity, being heard by the owners relaxing outside, and then enjoying cones in the open-for-us deli. A fast paceline down from Greenwater to the finish.

Simply marvelous.

SIR 600k Support

2008-06-10T08:55:00.000-07:00

Assisted by an able team of volunteers, Brad & Jeff Tilden, Don Smith, and Ray McFall organized our 600km brevet last weekend. Including the 6 riders on the scouting pre-ride, 54 riders participated in the brevet. The ride rewarded all with their money's worth of pure randonneur goodness. Bone chilling rain over Stevens Pass, warm sunshine east of the mountains, awesome tailwinds, fearsome headwinds, long climbs, fast descents, spectacular views, and stories galore. After the ride, these stories started to appear online and I've enjoyed reading them all. I'm sure there will be more, but so far I've read accounts by John Kramer, Matt Mikul, Joe Platzner (you have to register to see the pics), Robert Higdon, Geoff Swarts, Jennifer Chang, Ward Beebe, Kole Kanter, Nick Bull, Dan Boxer, Narayan Krishnamoorthy, and volunteer Paul Johnson.

I needed to scout a portion of the Cascade 1200 route through Yakima and talked Robin Pieper into coming along. We took a nice 25 mile route scouting tour on the Yakima Greenway trail, had lunch, and then drove up to Rimrock Lake, where we enjoyed a wonderful 25 mile loop around the lake, including some lovely quiet roads on the south side of the lake. Fifty miles of riding in the sunshine and daylight made for a delightful non-rando cycling day. After our rides, Robin stayed in Rimrock to help the overnight control crew. I went down the hill to work the secret control with Don Smith and two of the many cycling Tildens - Ron and Brad.

At 225 miles into the ride, brevet participants can be spread across a broad swath of rando time. Sure enough, we had riders at the control from about 6PM until after 3AM. As the ride reports detail, the story of this section of the ride was headwind. Once the riders turned onto US-12 about 10 miles before the control, they faced sustained headwinds of 30mph with gusts that were much worse. We circled the cars as best we could to create a shelter from the wind at the control. This effort was only modestly successful - from time to time, we had to go chase blown-over lawn chairs. Once those chairs were weighed down by resting randonneurs, we heard 45 wind stories. Bob Brudvik described being brought to a halt by a gust. Another rider reported seeing a section of roof blow past. Most versions of the story were the silent testimony of the riders' faces.

Don and Ron ladled homemade chicken noodle soup and made great sandwiches for the riders. Brad and I offered any other assistance that we could. As the evening wore on, hot chocolate and coffee were increasingly in demand. In the cool air, many riders took advantage of the stash of warm coats that we had brought along.

In the rural darkness on a clear, cool night, the stars were impressive. During breaks between riders, we gazed up at constellations and the Milky Way. With riders in the control, however, we were instead impressed by their fortitude. As I've noted before, it's pretty inspiring to spend time on the volunteer side of these events. You get to see all the riders and marvel at their determination. Restored by hot soup, rider after rider headed out for the 25 mile climb to the overnight control.

Three of the last six riders on the road did not make it past our control. We received a call from one exhausted rider whose knee would not let him continue. On the way out to get him, Brad and I passed another rider who said he was done. We encouraged him to push on to the control and continued along. After picking up the sore-kneed rider, we figured that we should try to figure out the status of the last rider on the road. We found him at a convenience store about 15 miles from the control. A bit dazed, he allowed that he had spent 45 minutes working on a flat tire and was probably too exhausted to continue. We gave him time to make that call and then loaded him up and headed back to the control. I picked up the other exhausted rider and took all three up the hill to the overnight control, trying not to notice the looks of disappointment on their faces. Nothing to be ashamed of there - all had persevered through over 200 miles of very challenging cycling - but none were happy to be in my car.

At 4:30 or so, I reached the overnight control. Riders were still arriving, a few had gone straight through without a sleep break, and others were having breakfast and making preparations to leave. Jeff was running quite the show here with dinner, breakfast, beds, shower, and wake-up calls. Volunteers Allison Bailey, Noel Howes, Shan Perera, Todd Black, and Robin Pieper were tending to riders' needs. In turn, the riders' good spirits and determination inspired the volunteers. All were warned of the chilly descent after the rest of the White Pass climb. We knew, however, that at the bottom, they would be greeted with hot drinks and warm hospitality by Ray McFall and Paul Johnson before being sent off to climb Cayuse Pass.

Thanks to all the volunteers and riders that made the 600km a memorable event.

Cruising

2008-06-02T07:48:00.000-07:00

The most popular permanent in the US by ridership in 2007 was the "Three Rivers Cruise" 200km permanent out of Arlington. I suspect that it's popularity stems from two features: the route is relatively scenic and it is relatively easy. That second feature sucked me in yesterday. After the deeply challenging 600km pre-ride last weekend, I was looking for a easier ride this weekend.

Last week Dan Turner posted that he and Matt Dalton would be heading down from Bellingham to Arlington for the Three Rivers Cruise. A few frequent ride companions led by Wayne Methner had already been discussing ride options for the weekend. Seeing Dan's post, which enticingly advertised a "leisurely pace," we latched onto that plan. I picked up Wayne Methner at his home around 5AM Sunday and we met Bob Brudvik along with Dan and Matt in the grocery store parking lot in Arlington for a 6AM start. (Note to caffeine addicted riders of this event: The nice coffee stand in the grocery store doesn't open until 6AM, so the start should NEVER be before 6:30!)

Grey skies and an occasional drizzle accompanied our trip up the north fork of the Stillaguamish River (river #1 of the three rivers of the ride's title). One of Wayne's oft repeated randonneur/geography/meteorology observations is that it always rains around Darrington on a brevet. Once again, he was correct.

I had not seen too much of Dan and Matt this year, so it was very nice to catch up as we rode. From the friendly convenience store in Darrington, we rode along the Sauk River (river #2) toward Rockport before turning east along the south bank of the Skagit River (river #3) to Marblemount. I can't deny that I enjoy cycling, but as gravity frequently reminds me, my first love is eating. On the way to Marblemount on the exceptionally quiet Rockport-Cascade Road, I started to obsess over the idea of a diner breakfast in Marblemount. To our dismay, the Buffalo Run was closed, but we found the Marblemount Diner around the corner to save my day. Dan and Matt decided on a quick convenience store stop instead and we wouldn't see them again until the finish. Wayne, Bob, and I, however, dug right in. As if to explain why they are both significantly faster and slimmer than I, Bob and Wayne had bowls of soup while I dug into the full all-you-can eat Sunday breakfast buffet.

From Marblemount, the route heads west on busier highway 20 to Concrete. Unlike most trips along this stretch, yesterday's ride provided no bald eagle sightings here. In Concrete, we cross the river to the South Skagit Highway - more quiet country road than "highway" really. This road is apparently on the Adventure Cycling maps for cross-country bike touring. We saw a group of loaded down riders heading east and then a short while later spotted a guy resting on the guardrail. Bob and I stopped to chat with the impressively mustachioed Portland native on his way to Maine. Fresh, clean, new bike touring gear hung all over his bike. We offered advice on places to overnight, wished him well, and headed off again.

The information control in the hamlet of Day Creek includes two questions, one of which is answered at a church in town. From previous rides, I knew that a garden hose on the side of the church would offer an opportunity to refill water bottles. For the first time, perhaps because we were riding on Sunday, there were some folks there at the church. Far from being concerned at our self-service, they let us know that not only were we welcome to the water anytime, we were also welcome to their bathrooms whenever anyone was there to let us inside. I guess they've read something somewhere about being kind to strangers. We made our appreciation of their kindness as clear as we could and set off.

Nine miles past the info control, we joined SR-9 for the 25 mile run to the finish. Four or five miles south of the intersection, Wayne pulled us off into the Big Rock Grocery (at the SR-538 intersection). Expecting only to refill my water bottles, I was delighted to find charming hospitality and delicious soup as well. Another lovely stop on our "leisurely" ride.

SR-9 is the three lakes portion of the three rivers ride - Clear Lake, Big Lake, and Lake McMurray are passed on the way back to Arlington. We met Matt and Dan in the parking lot around 3:40 and completed our post-ride paperwork over a nice cup of coffee. A great day!

Sleeping on a 600km

2008-06-02T07:44:00.000-07:00

In Matt Mikul's excellent new randonneur blog, he wonders about whether to sleep on the upcoming SIR 600km brevet. He notes the advice in the RUSA handbook that a sleepless 600km is key preparation for riders planning to ride a 1200km. This has always been one idea in the excellent RUSA handbook with which I disagree. I differ for two reasons.

The first is personal - I have completed 7 1200km brevets (including the 1400km London-Edinburgh-London) in 8 attempts. I have also done 13 successful 600km brevets and none have been without a sleep break. So I know from personal experience that it's certainly possible to be successful on a 1200km brevet without a sleepless 600km brevet.

The second reason is that I believe that taking a sleep break on a 600km brevet builds three key skills for a longer brevet.

The first skill is managing your time, by pushing on the road and at the controls, to build a cushion that permits a sleep break. I find that thinking about carving time for sleep provides a good focus for the first 400km or so to the sleep break.

The second skill is simply practicing the logistics of a good overnight stop. It helps to learn how to combine efficiently in a few hours some pre-sleep food, a shower, sleep, a post-sleep breakfast, replacing and repacking gear, and maintaining the bike.

The third skill (really more experience than skill) is to learn the feel of starting again in the morning - getting the tired body moving again and revving it back up to good riding form. When doing a 1000km or 1200km, confidence is increased by knowing that you've done that before.

Unless you are one of the talented few riders that can blast through a 1200km on no sleep, learning overnight stop skills on a 600km is excellent preparation for what you'll do on the 1200km brevet.

That's a ride!

2008-05-27T09:46:00.000-07:00

Four mountain passes, spectacular scenery, over 20,000 feet of climbing, terrific challenge, and incredible support characterized my volunteers pre-ride of the SIR 600km on Memorial Day weekend.

Brad and Jeff Tilden are organizing the SIR 600k on June 7-8. On Sunday, I joined them and Mark Roehrig, Dave Read, and Ralph Nussbaum for the volunteers pre-ride of the event. Inspired by the legendary 2002 600km ride, Brad plotted a big loop course from his house in Issaquah over four mountain passes - Stevens, Blewett, White, and Cayuse.

In 2002, we did a similar ride in reverse. The ride generated some spectacular DNF stories. One weary rider called AAA from the Yakima River canyon south of Ellensburg to request roadside assistance, even though his car was 150 miles away. Another rider stuck out his thumb at the base of Blewett pass and scored a ride all the way to his home in West Seattle. Another rider made it to within 15 miles of the finish before shutting down and calling for reinforcements. The finishers were not free of drama either. I saw a buddy fall asleep and wake up dramatically (and just in time) while descending Blewett Pass in the dark at 30mph. Riders crawled off the road on the top of Blewett in futile attempts to warm up before heading down to the overnight stop in Leavenworth. As for me, I was in pretty decent shape in 2002 (the year I rode the Rocky Mountain 1200, BMB, and two 1000km brevets) and I recorded my personal best 600km time. This year would be a different challenge for me.

Our snowy winter made the scenery even more spectacular than usual. We left the shores of Lake Sammamish and climbed over the plateau to the Snoqualmie Valley on the way to the Stevens Pass highway. In the mountains, visual and auditory reminders of our extraordinary winter snows are everywhere. The snow fields on Mount Index played peek-a-boo with the clouds. The sound of rushing water was a frequent companion. I missed Wallace Falls, high above the highway around Gold Bar, but further along I heard and saw more water in Deception Falls than I can ever recall. At the hairpin turn after Scenic, both sides of the road showed evidence of the big avalanche that closed US-2 for a couple of days in February with a big slide of snow, trees, and other debris. In riding over three more passes, I saw snow-filled lakes, walls of snow by the roadside, spectacular hillsides, and more avalanche scars. Sounds ranged from rushing streams and cascading waterfalls to the eerie quiet of the Yakima Canyon south of Ellensburg in the dark.

In my experience, a 600km is never easy. (I'm up to 14 attempts, with 1 DNF). Although I do frequently fall victim to the randonneur habit of saying that the ride I've just done is the hardest ever, I really do believe that this course (and the reverse version from 2002) have been my greatest 600km challenges since my first attempt at the distance. Climbing the four passes is challenging in its own right (from near sea level at the start to just over 4000 feet on Stevens Pass, from 1200 feet in Leavenworth to 4100 feet on new Blewett Pass, from 1100 feet in Selah to 4500 feet on White Pass, and from 1400 feet at the low point to 4700 feet on Cayuse Pass). Before and after and in between, there is also just a lot of mileage to cover. Fatigue becomes another challenge for me at this distance. I've never tried to ride a 600km without some sleep, but I'm also not fast enough to get much. Unlike the longer brevet distances, the clock doesn't slow on a 600km, so the sleep needs to squeeze into the same pace as the shorter events. Having recently finished a 400km brevet with only a couple hours to spare, I expected little sleep on the 600km and my expectations were met. I spent just over 3 hours at the overnight stop, but probably got less than 90 minutes of somewhat fitful sleep.

So what's the good part? My long suffering spouse is fond of asking: "Do you really enjoy those rides?" Most of the time, a "you're nuts, you know" roll of the eyes accompanies this question. (Side note: That presumption of sanity on her part and insanity on mine was forever thrown out the window this past week when she decided on Thursday to participate in a marathon on Saturday despite never having done one before and not having trained at all. Chris did fine, but lost her last best claim to being the sane one in the family).

Yes, I do enjoy these rides. For the exhilarating feeling of reaching a pass summit after two hours of climbing. For the camaraderie of riding with other fellow lunatics, sharing observations on the universe and retelling boring old randonneur stories. For the humorous company of Jeff Tilden for most of the first 400km, for the infrequent meetings with the speedy Mark Roehrig, and for the welcome support of Dave Read and Ralph Nussbaum over the last (and seemingly endless) 100km. For the quiet pleasure of riding alone in the pitch black dark with just the sound of tires on pavement for company. For the exquisite enjoyment of natural beauty experienced at bicycle speed. For the surprises of unexpected wildlife - my second bear in two brevets, the deer bounding across the road, the vultures that I hoped were interested in someone or something else, the raptor spotted on its aerial hunt. For the serendipity of a cool rain just when the fear of overheating was setting in. For the joyful feeling on realizing that I can (and will) finish. For the prideful conversation with a passing cyclist who innocently asks, "so where are you riding from?" For the cold, well-earned beer at the finish. For the sore, happy feeling the next day. For the randonneur amnesia that only remembers the good parts.

One of the best parts of this ride was the terrific support provided by Carol Nussbaum. I often marvel at the effort that a half dozen or more volunteers will put into supporting a 600km brevet. For Carol to do all that support by herself for a pre-ride is nothing short of extraordinary. Many thanks to her for all the good cheer, good humor, and well-placed assistance.

Some ride notes that may help riders in two weeks:

(1) It's over 65 miles to the first control in Skykomish. Other than the steep climb up to the plateau from Issaquah and a few steep pitches on Ben Howard Road before Sultan, this is nice gentle riding. There are no services until you join US-2 in Sultan (about 40 miles from the start). The last refueling opportunity before Skykomish is the Baring store (about 8 miles from Skykomish). The big, friendly, bear of a fellow that runs this place would be happy for your patronage. Jeff and I stopped for drinks there this weekend. In Skykomish, the Sky Deli makes great sandwiches.

(2) It's 50 miles from Skykomish to Leavenworth. The first 16 are uphill, 10 gentle and 6 of climbing in earnest after the railroad tunnel entrance at Scenic. The pass summit is between mileposts 64 and 65. There are one or two gratuitous uphills on the descent down the east side. (On my first trip over this pass 10 years ago, I stopped at one point to find the brake rub or other cause of my anemic speed. Only when I looked back after spinning both wheels did I realize that I had been going uphill). Refreshments are available at Coles Corner (about 17 miles east of the summit), before the spectacular ride through the Tumwater Canyon into Leavenworth. Note the waterfalls high on the south side of the river, the charred reminders of forest fires, and the class V rapids of the Wenatchee river.

(3) The faux-bavarian town of Leavenworth can be crowded with tourists and distracted drivers, so caution is advised. If you need more supplies than available at the control, look for the Safeway to the left as you leave town. Watch for the construction as you approach the turnoff to US-97 to Blewett Pass.

(4) It's 25 miles or so to the Blewett Pass summit (MP 164, I think) from Leavenworth. Once you turn onto 97, the only services are at the Ingall's Creek store (about halfway between Leavenworth and the summit). If it's hot, topping off the water bottles here could be a ride-saver. Bathrooms for customers only.

(5) At the base of Blewett on the south side is the Liberty Cafe, but it was closed by the time I reached it on Sunday. (It may be open later on Saturday; I didn't check). Just past there, the route turns left to stay on US-97 and climbs over a long gradual hill before a very nice descent into Ellensburg. Nice with a tailwind; no promises if the wind is not so friendly.

(6) In Ellensburg, there is a convenience store at the corner where the route turns south onto Main Street (which becomes Canyon Road). Further south are more convenience store options as well as a Starbucks (on left) at which I had a double espresso in a demitasse cup deemed insufficiently manly by Jeff at the time.

(7) The canyon between Ellensburg and Selah is a fun section of road. Despite following the Yakima river closely, the road is not flat. That benefit was reserved for the railroad tracks on the other side of the river. Apparently the trains got to pick first. There are a number of campgrounds along this stretch and many a campfire winked at us as we road past.

(8) It's a long stretch (over 70 miles) from Ellensburg to the overnight stop on Rimrock Lake. We found an open mini mart on the left side of the street in Selah before the turn off the main road to Fremont Ave, which was an easy turn to miss. If you get to Naches Ave, you've gone too far. From Selah, the route heads over the ridge before joining US-12 east of the town of Naches.

(9) East of the SR-410 intersection, US-12 is relatively flat. Rumble strips mark the edge of the pavement, but the shoulder to the right of the strips is inconsistent - sometimes a lovely wide shoulder and sometimes nothing much at all. We encountered little traffic and often took the travel lane (it's four lanes for much of this stretch).

(10) The happiest thing I learned on the ride was that the overnight stop at Rimrock Lake was at 2900 feet. I had attributed my slow progress to exhaustion and headwind and was delighted to learn that I had made more than a 50% down payment on the White Pass climb before sleeping.

(11) From Rimrock to Greenwater is a 60 mile stretch with two mountain passes and no towns. We expect to have manned support at the US-12/SR-123 intersection, but even after that is 40 miles (including a long pass climb). Be prepared for cool descents off both White and Cayuse passes. The descent from White Pass summit (MP 151) was a screamer - over 3000 feet in about 12 miles. Felt like being on a rock dropped off a bridge. Yee-hah! Cayuse (MP 16+) still had pretty walls of snow on either side (the road just opened to traffic on Friday). Great views of Mt. Rainier in front going down White Pass and in the rear view mirror on the way to Greenwater.

(12) After Greenwater (real food at Natchez Tavern on right, friendly convenience store on the left), the route returns to civilization and reasonable access to supplies. The route goes within a couple miles of the finish in Issaquah before heading up to Redmond and back on a "victory lap" around Lake Sammamish. A few final notes: Road construction makes the access into and out of the convenience store control at the end of East Lake Sammamish a bit dicey, the road through Marymoor park features speed bumps and stop signs galore, and the pavement on the south end of West Lake Sammamish can be pretty grim (but you can sure smell the barn from there).

(13) Map of the route (subject to revision)

SIR 400k Support

2008-05-18T21:25:00.000-07:00

On my pre-ride of the 400km, a friendly face at the Maltby control (~340km) did wonders for my attitude and helped me to complete the ride. I hoped to return the favor by spending the evening and night there during the scheduled brevet yesterday.

I helped the volunteers (John Morris, Thai Nguyen, and Erik Andersen) set up the secret control on Dubuque Cutoff Road. I stayed long enough to see the three first riders (Chris Ragsdale and Urs Koenig, setting a smoking pace, and Peter Beeson not far behind). Then I went shopping for cookies, ice, and drinking water and set up shop in the parking lot of the convenience store at the control. I missed Chris & Urs, but was there in time for Peter at 5:45PM. I stayed until the last rider came through at around 3:30AM.

The day had been tough for many riders, who faced temperatures near 100 east of the Cascades. That's tough enough under most circumstances, but especially so for NW riders who haven't seen any warm temperatures this spring. Most of the participants were feeling better by the time they arrived at Maltby in the relative cool of the evening (or night). I pushed electrolyte tablets to the riders with the most salt on their shorts. My supplies of water and cookies were well received, but many riders seemed more drawn to the comfy camp chairs.

Of the 60 starters, only five would DNF. Four of these were probably attributable to heat/fatigue, but one rider crashed in a drainage ditch just a mile or so before reaching Maltby. In the space of a couple minutes, I received a e-mail and a voice mail from ride organizer Brian Ohlemeier and an alert from incoming rider Mike Norman about the accident. The rider was taken off in an aid car before I got there, but I picked up the broken-framed bicycle. I spoke to him today and he's resting at home after his concussion. Tests (x-ray and CAT scan) were negative. We hope to see him back riding with us again soon. Thanks to Galvin Chow, Shan Perera, Robert Lagasca, and any others who assisted at the scene.

As always, I enjoyed the opportunity to see the ride from the other side. Only in support do you get the chance to talk with all of the participants. It's nice to see new members and old friends and to witness the spirit and determination shown by randonneurs. The mother of one rider had come from out of town to see first-hand her son's new obsession. She and the rider's wife brought cookies and good cheer.

I don't know if I helped any riders to complete their 400km, but I did remind myself yet again how much I enjoy our club and our sport.

400km Pre-ride - 5/10

2008-05-11T19:18:00.000-07:00

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

2008-04-30T17:49:00.000-07:00

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

2008-04-22T07:55:00.000-07:00

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

2008-04-14T07:22:00.000-07:00

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

2008-04-07T10:07:00.000-07:00

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

2008-03-20T08:06:00.000-07:00

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

2008-02-18T11:03:00.000-08:00

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.

With a Whimper

2007-12-29T15:47:00.000-08:00

The long time since my last post matches the time since my last successful randonneur event. I’d like to report that my 2007 season ended with a bang, but it didn’t.

After returning from France, I decided to abandon my normal strategy of ignoring corporeal signals and finally see a doctor about my angry ankle. The discomfort and swelling stemmed from injury to the peroneal tendons in my right foot. (Apparently, tendons are supposed to be black in an MRI film; mine had a lot of white patches, indicating the places where the tendons were damaged).

Accepting the need for medical intervention was one thing; actually resting the ankle by laying off the cycling for a while was a tougher task. In addition to the Mount Baker 200km, at the end of September I took on our 1000km ride, a challenging jaunt from Seattle to Carson along the Cascade 1200 route, then a loop around Mount Hood to Portland, then back home.

I made it 520km to Government Camp, followed by a nice meal, and a car ride back. Not one of my more stellar efforts. Maybe the weather, but more likely just weariness. We had a cold Friday (rainy and low 40s descending Skate Creek and low 30s over Elk & Oldman passes, but dry) and that may have taken something out of me. I was also a bit sick and somewhat short on sleep the week before, which couldn’t have helped. Nagging concern for my ankle did nothing to improve my mental conditioning either. I had almost nothing to climb Dufur Valley Road to Camp Baldwin, not to mention the climbs after. I think I only made it up over to Government Camp because I knew there would be food there.

In the car on the way home on Sunday, I didn’t think about what I could have done differently or about whether I should have kept going. Normally that’s what I think about after a DNF. Not having those thoughts was another sign that I just needed a rest.

Rest came after the ride. In consultation with two doctors and two physical therapists, I developed a strategy to deal with the biomechanical issues that may have led to the ankle injury (orthotics in regular shoes and wedges under the cleat of my cycling shoes). In addition, my orthopedic doctor, an avid cyclist himself, strongly urged some time off the bike.

Two full months passed before I remounted the bike. On December 1, I met dozens of SIR friends for a “meet the teams” ride. At the end of the year, the Washington State Bicycle Association (the local racing association) sponsors a series of rides for prospective team members to check out the local racing teams. As we did once before a few years ago, SIR sponsored a subversive ride to lure racers away to randonneuring. As before, a few new riders joined us for a nice ride around the south end of Lake Washington, but the ride served primarily as a nice riding get-together for SIR.

Since then, I’ve been riding relatively leisurely weekend rides of 100km or less with good friends. The ankle seems to be mostly ok, so I’m looking forward to longer rides in the new year. A sad consequence of the layoff was a conversion of fitness into weight, so I now have too little of the former and too much of the latter. On the bright side, this provides great material for new year’s resolutions.

Wishing a happy new year of cycling to all.

Tough Day

2007-09-16T11:08:00.000-07:00

Bob Brudvik (coming down from Artist Point): "You ok?"

Me (heading up): "I'm a little sick, Bob."

Bob: "I can tell."

Today I offer a break from the relentlessly cheerful series of posts about brevets and permanents that litter this blog.

Yesterday SIR held a 200km brevet. Dan Turner hosted the start and finish at his house near Bellingham. The route took us through Glacier, where Steve Hameister lived. Steve passed away on a brevet earlier this year (see posting below) and we planned this ride as a memorial to Steve. The beautiful course, similar to the Mount Baker Climb permanent that I rode in July, took in some of Steve's favorite roads.

The day started well enough, if a bit early. I met Peter McKay and Bob Brudvik at a park & ride in Lynnwood for the drive up to Bellingham. At Dan's house we saw a good turnout of 44 riders, some of whom had spent the previous night there. On the relatively flat terrain of the first 45km or so, most of us rode together, offering a good chance to catch up and chat. (Picture below by Peter McKay, before things got ugly).

I started to worry when we hit the first good hill (Reese Hill) just east of Sumas - I had very little energy available for the climb. At a refueling stop in Glacier, it was pretty clear that the day would be a struggle, and I gave my car keys to Peter and Bob, so they wouldn't have to wait for me at the finish to retrieve their bags from my car.

I'm not sure what went wrong - maybe a combination of things. Maybe because I'd been feeling a bit under the weather all week. Maybe because I only slept for about three hours the night before the ride. (Chris had just come home late from a weeklong hiking trip in Arizona and I was eager to hear of her adventures). Maybe because I'm still recovering from PBP and from all the riding beforehand. Maybe because of something I ate. Maybe because I didn't eat enough at the start of the ride.

For whatever reason, I just felt lousy. Twenty miles of uphill did nothing to make me feel better. Two bouts of nausea on the way up took a toll on my attitude as well. Many riders passed me on this climb. I spoke for a few minutes to Albert Meerscheidt on the way up, before I had to tell him that I was having enough trouble being good company to myself and that I really couldn't be sociable at all.

On the way up I contemplated quitting twice. At one point I came very close to turning around to ride back. A bit later, Mike McHale came by in his car. He had dropped out with knee problems (related to a bike-car incident a couple weeks back) and was cruising up the hill taking pictures. He offered me a ride back to the start. Despite the temptation, I declined, muttering "I think I can make it." At that point, making it up to the turnaround at Artist Point became the grim focus of my afternoon.

SIR riders are generally friendly and encouraging. As I started to see descending riders, they almost always called out a cheery "you're looking great" or "almost there" to me. In my grouchy state, however, this just annoyed me, largely because I knew perfectly well that neither statement was true.

Eventually, I made it to the top. In addition to SIR member Vic Ringkvist, the stop was manned by Anita Hameister, Steve's widow, and friends. I was looking forward to meeting her and that had served as extra motivation during the miserable climb. Instead of a nice conversation, however, all I managed was a brief hello and introduction before I collapsed on the pavement in a light-headed fog. We agreed that we'd talk more at the finish, when we both assumed I'd be feeling better.

Sunshine, food, drink, friendly ministrations, and the promise of a great downhill worked together to generate a revival of body and spirit. I headed out with Don & Elaine Jameson's tandem, thinking I'd catch a draft back to the finish. They descended like a rock falling off a cliff and soon I was behind. Apparently they waited a while in Glacier, but I was too slow to catch up, especially because I succumbed to another wave of nausea on the way down.

It was a long, slow stretch into the wind from Glacier back to Dan's house, but I was feeling a lot better and arrived to a happy gathering of cyclists. With some trepidation, I partook of post-ride pizza and beer. Luckily, it was not only tolerated but welcomed. I took advantage of Dan's house for a shower and started to feel human again.

We presented Anita Hameister with a framed display of SIR memorabilia. Peter McKay and Bill Dussler had created a really nice display with a backdrop of the new Seattle jersey along with the medals that Steve had earned this year (200k, 300k, 400k, 600k, 1000k, fleche, and Super Randonneur), his official PBP brevet card, his PBP frame plate, and his PBP scan card. In addition, the case contains two items that I had carried over to France and had taken with me on the ride from Paris to Brest and back: Steve's SIR PBP name plate and a small sachet of Steve's ashes. Jon Muellner, Bill Dussler, Peter McKay, and I each carried some ashes on our bikes at PBP to honor Steve's dream of Paris-Brest-Paris.

Anita appeared to appreciate the gift and the opportunity to meet and talk with many of Steve's fellow riders. For me it was a nice ending to a less than perfect day on the bike.

Mountain Populaire

2007-09-11T16:04:00.000-07:00

A few years back, Jan Heine and Kent Petersen put together a ride just east of Seattle that climbs up a down a devilish collection of hills. The ride starts with a tough climb up Cougar Mountain and ends atop Squak Mountain. With around 6000ft of climbing in 70 miles, the ride is often called our Un-populaire.

On Sunday, around 50 riders turned out on a beautiful morning. I rode down from home (with a coffee stop, of course) and met the others at the park & ride where we started. This year, Jan is still in Europe, so Kent was there with help from Matt Newlin and Narayan Krishnamoorthy to start us off.

Other than the searing pain in my lungs and legs, the first climb was spectacular. Certain turns rewarded us with views of Lake Sammamish below and Mount Baker in the distance. My hill climbing "prowess" also afforded me the opportunity to see most of the other participants as they passed me on the way up. At the top, Bob Brudvik, Greg Paley, and Mike McHale were waiting for me (as they would throughout the day). Mike rode strongly despite a recent encounter with a car that left his leg battered and torn. Bob and Greg are always strong.

Descending back down to Newport Way merely set the stage to climb back up again. As with the prior climb, Matt Newlin was at the top (on the other side of the street this time) to mark our cards. Some nice riding took us to Tiger Mountain for climb 3, where Rene Comeaux was waiting, signing our cards, and offering a new rando delight - gummy Life Savers.

Up and over the Sammamish Plateau we went, followed by a nice ride through the Snoqualmie Valley to Carnation. Sandy's Espresso in Carnation is one of our favorite coffee stops anywhere. Their hospitality and coffee did not disappoint. The omnipresent Matt Newlin signed our cards. Bob Brudvik (new caffeine addict) and I (old hand and pusher) ordered triple shot espresso drinks to fortify us for the last two climbs. (Photo courtesy of new rider Brad Bleck - blog).

The climb over Tolt Hill Road is steep but not too long and the climb up Duthie Hill Road is relatively gentle and soon we found ourselves back in Issaquah. The cruelty of this ride is highlighted when you pass the delightful Issaquah brewpub at 100+ kilometers on your way to the dastardly hilltop finish. As you climb up Mt. Olympus Drive, the cross streets have mountain names. A final twist of the knife is when you pass Mt. Everest street, which should, by all rights, mark the high point. But no, more climbing awaits. Kent was at the top with cold drinks, SIR 100km populaire pins, and hearty congratulations.

After riding back down the hill to the park and ride, we retired to the aforementioned brewpub for some food and carbohydrate replenishment, accompanied by the telling of many PBP tall tales. A good day!

Paris-Brest-Paris 2007

2007-08-29T11:14:00.001-07:00

For the eight years since my first PBP in 1999, I've told anyone willing to listen (and some who weren't) that Paris-Brest-Paris offers a unique and wonderful cycling opportunity - promising great challenge, wonderful people, and a great experience. I hope that I never promised fabulous weather. I had a wonderful ride (see article below), but there was much more to it for me.

Thanks

As always, the experience of PBP started long before the event. I had the privilege of working with some great people at Randonneurs USA involved in getting the largest group of US riders ever to the event. Over 40 RBAs worked hard to offer qualifying rides and to prepare their riders for PBP. Through my travels, I witnessed first-hand the efforts of Mike Berry in San Diego, Susan Notangelo and Lon Haldeman in Arizona, the Davis Bike Club folks in California, Susan Plonsky in Arizona, Matt Settle in DC, and Susan France in Oregon. On these rides I also saw RUSA members assisting their RBAs and their fellow riders by volunteering. At home in Seattle, the usual outpouring of rider-volunteers brought us a great series of qualifiers. I rode some pre-rides with organizers (300, 600, 1000) and enjoyed the camaraderie of the larger group on the 200 and the 400.

I was proud to be part of a team of sixty SIR members and of a team of six hundred RUSA members bound for Paris. The tireless efforts of Don & Phyllis Hamilton to process memberships, of Don Bennett to keep the website updated, of Lois Springsteen to handle brevet results processing, and of Jennifer Wise to get our applications to the ACP benefitted us all and were impressive to watch. Equally impressive was the work of the ACP to register more than 5000 riders - many were involved; in particular, we saw the work of Jean-Gualbert Faburel as he processed results and helped us find an efficient way to register US riders and the work of Claude Lepertel as she registered all of us.

Old friends

In Saint-Quentin en Yvelines before the ride, it felt like a reunion of old friends. Riders from Seattle were all over the place. A non-participant from Seattle called out to us in line in Paris at the Musee d'Orsay. I chatted with many RUSA members that I've known and I made the acquaintance of many more that I had not met before. Leroy Varga, the oldest member of the RUSA team, and Johnny Bertrand, the most experienced, were staying at my hotel. Puerto Rico RBA William Medina and some friends bumped into us at the Eiffel Tower on Thursday.

RUSA's board of directors was well represented. Treasurer Tim Sullivan, VP John Lee Ellis, and brevet coordinator Lois Springsteen were there to ride. Jennifer Wise and Don Hamilton were non-riders but on hand to help. Webmaster Don Bennett and newsletter editor Mike Dayton were there to ride, as were medal/award volunteers John Kramer and Peter Beeson. Super-volunteer Bill Bryant offered advice and assistance as always.

In addition to SIR and RUSA members, the reunion included international friends as well. Over the years, I've had the pleasure of participating in a few major international randonneuring events - two prior PBPs, two Boston-Montreal-Boston 1200s (2002 and 2006), London-Edinburgh-London in 2001, the Great Southern Randonnee (which I DNF'd in 2001), and the Rocky Mountain 1200 in 2002. So, in the days before this year's PBP, I ran into old friends from Canada, the UK, Denmark, and Australia.

Delighted to spend time with fellow randonneurs, I barely spent time riding or sightseeing before or after the ride. One day in Paris before the ride, we saw a couple museums, walked a lot, and met some friends for sunset pictures by the Eiffel Tower. A shakedown bike ride took a few of us to the grounds of the Palace at Versailles. After the ride, Bob Brudvik and I spent a great day riding around Paris on the rental bikes, drinking coffee and enjoying the atmosphere, before meeting the Dusslers and Greg Cox for dinner. Other than these excursions, however, I spent my time in SQY with other randonneurs.

Behind the scenes

Unlike my prior PBPs, this trip exposed me much more to the organization of the event. On Saturday, I joined Jennifer Wise and her husband Pierce in offering help to the ACP in setting up at the gymnasium. With her good French and winning personality, Jennifer is an amazing ambassador to the ACP from RUSA. I met the first family of the ACP - Bob and Suzanne Lepertel, still running strong, as well as their daughter Claude, who handles all French brevet results in addition to her PBP duties. Also present - president Pierre Theobald and do-it-all Jean-Gualbert Faburel, who processes all non-French brevet results. We liberally distributed gifts from RUSA and pins from SIR.

On Sunday, the volunteers at bike inspection and rider check-in included a strong RUSA contingent. Don, Pierce, and Bill working outside directing riders. Inside Phyllis and Jennifer handed out registration information and brevet cards to US riders. In addition to checking myself in and joining my SIR teammates for a picture at lunchtime, I spent much of the day inside the gym offering what help I could to US riders. Late in the day, many of the RBAs present gathered for a meet-and-greet and picture outside the gym. Afterwards, the board and volunteers gathered at Pizza Pino for a nice dinner.

On Saturday after the ride, I represented RUSA at a meeting and lunch of the Randonneurs Mondiaux. This is the association of correspondent organizations that sponsor brevets around the world. Specifically charged with the sanctioning of events of 1200km or more (other than PBP), the RM also promotes randonneuring around the world. Although I could probably have done without 7 hours of chair-riding after spending 4 days on my bicycle seat, I enjoyed meeting randonneur officials from around the world.

Back home

On Monday, I flew home still high on the experience. I can hardly wait until 2011!

PBP - The ride

2007-08-29T09:06:00.001-07:00

Much has been written (and will be written) about the tough conditions on the 2007 edition of Paris-Brest-Paris. The old-timers I met at the Randonneurs Mondiaux meeting after PBP called it the worst conditions since 1956. Others thought 1987 was worse, but the bottom line is that the rain and wind made this a tougher than usual PBP. The non-finish rate - for SIR, for RUSA, and for all riders - was quite high - probably in the 30% range all around.

Under the conditions, some great stories of perseverance emerged. Riders fought through sickness, mechanical problems, exhaustion, etc to complete the ride - some even soldiering to the finish long after time had run out for an official finish. Mine is not one of these stories. I had a great time and a great ride. I felt well prepared and well rested. Although I didn't train for strength and speed, I rode an awful lot of miles this year, including two long brevets of 1000 kilometers. In addition, the experience of two prior PBPs helped me plan how to approach the ride. And I had the company of riding companions Peter McKay, Greg Cox, and Bill Dussler. This was our third PBP together.

Not a fast rider, my time goal was simply to finish. (I carried Steve Hameister's name plate and some of his ashes with me. Although I did not need the extra incentive, I wanted to give those mementos a Paris-Brest-Paris finish as well.) My overall goal was to enjoy the ride. From my previous trips, I expected to enjoy the company of friends, the international camaraderie of my fellow riders, and the great support from the ACP and the people of Normandy and Brittany. In these I was not at all disappointed. Maybe I even got a perverse pleasure out of facing the challenges of the windy, rainy conditions.

Luck plays a role in these things, of course, and mine held throughout the ride. Unlike some other riders, my bike and all my luggage arrived on time and intact. Nagging foot and ankle problems caused some pain, but did not impede progress. Although mechanical problems did not stay away completely, they did not present any show-stopping issues. My biggest weather fear - hot weather for which I had done little training - did not materialize.

Although three PBPs do not create a huge sample size, I enjoyed some personal bests:

Most sleep on a PBP - 10+ hours.
Most nights in a bed - 3 (more on this outrageous luxury below).
Most ham sandwiches - I lost count, but this readily available and quick control staple helped me stay fueled throughout the ride, along with
Most chocolate croissants consumed - at some patisseries and controls, I was eating them two at a time
Most pins distributed - Bill Dussler created some wonderful SIR/PBP 2007 pins. Offering these to control volunteers, fellow riders, and the supportive children and adults along the road brought plenty of smiles in return.
Lightest load on the bike - although I saw many riders with less, my load of supplies, spares, tools, clothes, and food was the lightest of my three trips (see posting below for more details).
Most beer consumed - three 0.25cl beers, one before each bedtime. Not quite the consumption of the local riders, but a great way to relax and fall asleep.

After checking and rechecking the forecast and observing the sky on Monday, we resigned ourselves to a rainy beginning to PBP. From past experience and current estimates of the number of riders, we knew that the 90 hour start would be a mob scene and would involve a lot of standing around. Although 9:30 was the nominal start time for this largest group of riders, the ACP planned to send the riders out in waves. As president of Randonneurs USA, I had a VIP pass that would have allowed me to move to the front of the line for the first start wave. Instead, I joined a fairly large contingent of SIR riders bunched up in the circle a bit before 8PM for what would be marked as the 10:10PM wave (although the start signal for this group was not given until 10:20).

For fun, a couple of us bought cheap umbrellas to protect us from having to stand in the rain for hours. Happily there was no deluge, but when the rain started as we stood on the stadium track, our umbrellas went up to the the chuckles of our fellow riders.

The first 200km of the ride went by in a blur of taillights. Less than 20km from the start, I noticed a flat tire. After a brief foray into a very muddy field, I pushed the bike forward to a paved sidewalk in Jouars. I considered replacing the tire, but Peter suggested instead a boot cut from a piece of Tyvek that he carries. The boot would last another 1200km to the finish. Our stop split us off from the rest of our group, including Greg and Bill. We chased along the country side, hopping from group to group in search of them. Bill would stay ahead of us all the way to our stop on Tuesday night; Greg followed another group of riders on a 15km detour and would not see us for another 1050km until Mortagne au Perche on Thursday night.

The bunching of riders in the 90 hour group creates large crowds at the refreshment control at Mortagne (140km) and the first real control at Villaines la Juhel (222km). We brought enough food that we could just stop for water at Mortagne. In Villaines, we stopped before the control at a patisserie known from prior PBPs - delicious pastries (pain au chocolat, of course) and quick service. Just before the control, we restocked from our bags at Dave Jordan's bag drop truck (ride "food" and a spare tube). At the control, we took care of our control cards, filled our water bottles, and moved quickly down the road. The relatively short time spent in Villaines moved us fairly far forward among the 90 hour riders.

As a Seattle randonneur, I've accumulated an awful lot of rainy kilometers over the years. The off-and-on rain on Tuesday remained well within the bounds of comfort for this wool-clad rider. The wind was less pleasant. We never really found a group of riders that fit comfortably with our riding style, so we pushed into the wind without rider shield for much of the distance.

One fun part of Tuesday was crossing paths multiple times with the motorcycle carrying our friend Gregg Bleakney, who was photographing riders for RUSA and SIR. He and his buddy Sebastian clearly enjoyed being among the riders and documenting their progress. In one small town, we stopped at a bar for some coffee (right) and spotted their motorcycle out front. Inside they had made friends with the staff and patrons, who then greeted us as riding heroes when we arrived.

We reached Loudeac around nightfall and pushed ahead toward our overnight stop in a nearby farmhouse rented by our friends Rick and Barbara Blacker. This turned out to be one of the great luxuries of this PBP. Twelve Seattle riders shared the two buildings, which had nice beds for all and three(!) separate showers.

Bill was there already when we arrived, but no sign of Greg or the others - Rick Blacker, Rick Haight, Joe Llona, the Jensen tandem, the Jameson tandem, or Lew Meyer. Later that evening, Rick Haight apparently rescued Greg from wandering around lost. After a delicious dinner, I slept for more than four hours - a real luxury.

Other than the headwinds, most of Wednesday was a nice day for a ride. A baker in the secret-control town of Corlay offered the most wonderful, flakiest, buttery-est pastries of our entire visit to France. Stoked with at least two of these, we headed out to Carhaix and Brest. Along the way we traveled over the Roc Trevezel, the "big climb" of PBP. At about 1250 feet or so, this pales in comparison to any climbs of the Alps or Pyrenees, or for that matter, to any of our pass climbs in Washington. Nonetheless, it can be a bit of a slog coming at 550km into the ride. This time, however, I felt great and I enjoyed every minute of the climb.

The route leaves Brest and the turn-around control by a different route than it enters. As a result, you don't get to see all the riders ahead and behind as you would on a true out-and-back. The routes do converge, however, before Sizun and we had the opportunity to see many of our friends as we returned. Lots of smiles and waves and cheers. Riders were enjoying the best weather of the event and the satisfaction of nearing the half-way point.

Sizun is a lovely town and it was filled with 90hour cyclists returning from Brest and 84hour cyclists on their way out. We hung out for a while to chat (and, of course, to eat). Steve & Peggy Rex were there; Will Roberts was there; Kevin Main was handing out ice cream cones (he wanted one, but could only find a multi-cone box).

The nice weather would not quite hold for the rest of the day. A couple hours before reaching the gite on the return, the rains returned - real gully-washers for part of the time. Peter and I were quite happy to see the gite again. Warm showers and another four hour sleep fortified us for what we suspected would be a long Thursday.

In the pre-dawn confusion of the secret control after Loudeac, Peter and I split up. (I thought I was chasing him back out on the course, but he was taking care of business at the stop). Eventually we regrouped and rode together to the controls at Tintineac and Fougeres. At Fougeres, we saw Amy Pieper and her friend Lola Jacobsen. They were out enjoying the French countryside and cheering on Amy's husband. Robin, an 84hour starter, arrived while we were there, having erased our 7 hour headstart. (He would later finish with Bob Brudvik from the 80 hour group).

Not far from Fougeres, my right shifter (relatively new Campy Record ~5000 miles) decided to abandon. I could shift to larger cogs, but not back down to smaller. (Occasionally I could coax a shift the other way, but mostly I just needed to pick a cog and leave it there). As a result, I rode the rest of the ride on what was basically a 3-speed. Happily, I had spent a lot of time over the past 13 months on a single-speed bike, so I wasn't overly intimidated by the prospect. Plus, I was still feeling pretty good.

The next stretch brought the fun of revisiting nice memories from prior PBPs. In the little town of La Tanniere, Paul Rogue and his friends and family quadrennially set up an oasis for PBP riders. He serves crepes and coffee (and offers sleeping and bathroom facilities). In thanks, all he asks is that the riders send him a post card from home. We spotted the postcard that Peter sent in 2003, with Mount Rainier rising above Peter's home neighborhood of West Seattle. Shortly after this we descend to the river town of Ambrieres, where we've stopped in past (warmer) PBPs for ice cream. This time we had coffee and found the answer to the age-old question - does dog drool smell better or worse than a randonneur? As we were getting ready to leave, the barmaid comes out with my headband, just retrieved from the resident dog's mouth. I wipe off the obvious slobber and give it a quick sniff. Can't tell that it's any worse, so on it goes.

Peter and I have approached each PBP with basically the same ride plan - spend Tuesday and Wednesday night in Loudeac and then push on to the finish. In 1999 and 2003, we ran out of gas at Mortagne au Perche and grabbed some unsatisfying sleep at the control. This year, I planned for this by reserving a hotel room in Mortagne, just in case the inevitable happened again. We picked up clean shorts and shirts from our drop bags in Villaines and rode to Mortagne. As expected, this turned into quite the long slog. For amusement, Peter gave me a running status on the steadily expanding hole in the back of my shorts. (Silver lining - I had the excuse just to throw them away at Mortagne and not carry them into the finish).

Although we weren't there long, maybe 2.5 hours total, the shower and bed refreshed us well. Our pre-dawn ride to the penultimate control at Dreux was still challenging, but we had the good company of Will Roberts for much of the way. Will has been a graduate student in Seattle and has ridden with SIR for the past few years; he's just moved back to his native England after graduation. Being a little sleepy, I talked incessantly to keep myself awake. Perhaps I should have offered Will my earplugs. On the way into Dreux I picked up speed and rode with some different folks, including a fellow from the Carolinas who thanked me later for riding with him. "You know those white lines on the side of the road?" he asked. "They were starting to open into chasms and I was afraid I'd fall in." Ah, the joys of randonneur hallucinations.

At Dreux, Bill Dussler decided to nap, but Peter and I smelled the barn and pushed hard over the last 70km, in the company of Will and another AUK rider and a few others. We arrived, happy, at the finish at around 11AM. Unofficially, my time was 84:50, remarkably consistent with the 85:42 of 1999 and the 84:29 of 2003. Although the times were similar, I think this was my best ride of the the three. This time, I felt stronger throughout the ride and better after the finish. Unlike 2003, I never tossed myself into a bed of thorns (see story here).

After a shower and some lunch, we returned to the finish to watch the remaining riders come in. It was inspiring and humbling to watch those riders who had persevered through much adversity arrive happy and exhausted at the finish, some with evident makeshift repairs to their bikes or their bodies. Even after the time required for an official finish, riders continued to arrive.

PBP - Lightening up the bike

2007-08-29T08:46:00.000-07:00

All year, riding buddy Bob Brudvik has encouraged me to try to pack more efficiently and to carry less stuff on the bike. I've used handlebar bags, underseat bags, frame wedge bags, rack trunks, and panniers in different combinations on my brevets and permanents this year. For PBP, I planned to ride with a jumbo sized Berthoud front bag and (possibly) an Ortlieb underseat bag.

In St-Quentin en Yvelines before the ride, I fussed around extensively and perhaps obsessively with my packing. In the end, I decided to use just the front bag. As with many randonneurs, I tend to fill whatever on-bike storage that I have available. Omitting the underseat bag would make me pack less stuff. Purists will note that I had restock available at drop bags in Villaines and Loudeac; I'll readily admit that the drop bags aided the gear choices.

Here's what I carried. (The bike and the body offer additional places for stuff.)

On the bike at the start:

Two large water bottles
Generator hub and Schmidt light
Battery powered backup light (DiNotte)
Frame plates (PBP number plate, SIR name plate, SIR name plate for Steve Hameister, Maindru photo plate)
Fenders & courtesy flap
Two taillights

On me at the start:

wool t-shirt
wool jersey
armwarmers & knee warmers
bibs
headband
reflective sash & anklebands
wool socks
shoes
gloves
SIR wind vest (with pockets - very handy to store arm/knee warmers and to carry day 4 change of shorts & undershirt from Villaines drop bag to Mortagne sleep stop)
helmet with headlamp and taillights (I had a button light and also clipped a Planet Bike light to the strap across the back of the helmet. This came in later when I discovered that the matching taillight on the bike had broken off. I just moved the light from the helmet and had two on the bike again.)
Sunglasses with light yellow lenses and mirror

In the bag:

Clothing

Rain jacket (never used)
Wool liner gloves (never used)
Cap (never used)

Nutrition

Clif Blox (used and restocked from drop bags)
Ensure (used and restocked)
Nuun electrolyte tablets (used and restocked)
Endurolytes (not used)

Repair stuff

Spare tire (never used)
3 tubes (used 1 on first night and replaced from Villaines drop bag)
patch kit (never used)
tire boots (not used; used a piece of Tyvek from Peter McKay instead when I flatted; boot held for 1150km)
multitool (used twice to tighten fender bolts)
chain quick links (never used)
2 fiber spokes (never used)
zip ties (never used)
2 spare bulbs (used one)
4 spare AAA batteries (used)
Swiss army knife (not used)

Personal care

Sun screen (never used; but gave some to Peter when sun came out outside Brest on Wednesday)
Lip balm (used occasionally)
Ibuprofen (used lots)
Vivarin (used twice)
Neosporin (never used)
Ear plugs (used at sleep stops)
Bandages (never used)
Toothbrush; toothpaste (happily used)

Other

Space blanket
Dark lenses (never used)

Camera (never used; I don't know why I continually carry a camera on rides and fail to take pictures)
Wallet
Phone
Brevet card wallet with brevet card, mag swipe card, and passport
SIR PBP2007 souvenir pins (handed out and replenished from drop bags)

Overall, I was pleased with what I had with me and felt reasonably confident of my ability to make it to the next control in case of any mechanical adversity. I used the drop bags for clean clothes and bike food replenishment. I also restocked the tube I used on first night and changed headlamp batteries on Thursday morning.

10k

2007-08-05T18:12:00.000-07:00

Goals are funny things. In general, I've always focused more on the road than on the destination, but goals do arise. In 2007, randonneuring has been the road. Whether riding brevets, organizing brevets, helping on brevets, riding team events, riding permanents, or readying the SIR or the RUSA teams for PBP2007, I've been reveling in the sport this year to the point of excess or obsession. Chris has looked at all my riding and told me that I'm overtraining for PBP. I've tried to explain that the rides are not PBP training rides. The rides are the goals. Each ride becomes its own goal - to get on my bike and test myself against a new course, a different distance, or different conditions.

Sometimes the road itself starts to suggest a destination to me. I didn't start the 200km brevet up Chinook Pass last month with the idea of setting a personal best, but as the ride wore on and the possibility grew, that idea became a motivator over the last 50km. A similar thing happened over the course of this year. As the randonneur events mounted for me, I noticed that I could reach 10,000 randonneur kilometers. Almost without my realizing it, completing 10k in my 10th season of randonneuring became a goal.

Yesterday, I met a few friends in Duvall for the Stevens Pass 300km permanent (RUSA Permanent #82). After last weekend's rides in Olympia, I had just over 9700km for the year, so this would be the one to put me over. Although we had a few last minute cancellations, five riders met me in the Safeway parking lot. The group included Geoff Swarts, who has done a number of permanents and brevets with us, both before and after his cross-country tour, James Sprague, a PBP veteran with whom I hadn't cycled in a while, Ryan Schmid, a strong cyclist who's been away from randonneuring for a while due to other demands like graduate school, Frank Kaplan, who joined me for all the rides in Olympia last weekend, and Joe Llona, who rode out to the start and let us know (later, when declining a ride home) that riding from his house to Leavenworth and back had been "on his list."

We had learned that US2 west of the summit was under construction. Ralph Nussbaum had recently driven over the pass and reported that the road to "be not only extremely uncomfortable but probably dangerous for bikes" and Will Roberts, with his typically British understatement simply called it "unpleasant." I arranged with Mark Roehrig, the route owner, to modify the route onto back roads as much as possible.

The eastbound ride was terrific. We detoured onto the back roads in Gold Bar. We enjoyed May Creek Road and Reiter Road despite their gratuitous extra climbing. Reiter Road took us into the town of Index, where we stopped at the nice little store there for refreshments before rejoining the highway. James noted that he used to pan for gold in this area and that one of his favorite campsites was up Index-Galena road, but had been heavily damaged in the past winter's flooding. Indeed, signs indicated that the road itself was closed about six miles west of Index. We avoided the narrow tunnel west of Skykomish by taking the back road past Money Creek Campground, rejoining US2 east of the town.

The Old Cascade Highway takes you off US2 for all but about half a mile of the last 10 miles to the Stevens Pass summit. The lower section is a narrow but well maintained road that is a joy to cycle. Heavily shaded and nicely situated along the banks of the stream, this would be one of the highlights of the ride in both directions. The upper section climbs over the entrance to the 7+ mile long rail tunnel (built in the 1920s after an avalanche killed almost 100 people in one of the nation's worst rail disasters) and winds its way to the summit. At one point the road becomes impassable to cars with only a pedestrian bridge crossing a stream. Although the road conditions are less than ideal, with potholes and stretches of gravel, the almost complete lack of cars and nice scenery make it a great alternative to the highway.

We bombed down the east side of the pass and through the pretty Tumwater Canyon on our way to a lunch stop and turn around in Leavenworth. On the way back, we were plagued by a few mechanical issues. A broken spoke was trued around and made rideable. More problematic was Geoff's freewheeling rear hub. If you don't have any better ideas, he announced, "I'll be sticking out my thumb." We didn't, so he did. Not long after, a ratty pickup truck rolls by with window down and a smiling Geoff lets us know that he had a ride. Although I haven't heard the details, an e-mail today described his afternoon as "a bit of an adventure, . . . enjoyable and memorable." I'm sure we'll hear the details on a later ride.

Joe Llona, riding very strongly, waited for us at the summit. Frank went on ahead, not wanting to chill down. The rest of us (now just Joe, James, Ryan, and me) picked our way down the poorly paved eastern section of the Old Cascades Highway and then just blasted down the next section. "What a rush," Joe exclaimed partway down that stretch.

We refueled at the Baring Store. James let us know that he'd rather drop off than work too hard to stay on. Joe continued to push the pace, with Ryan close behind. The combination of Joe's speed and Ryan's size made one of the best drafts that I've ever had the pleasure of riding in. But for the narrow shoulders and idiots in cars, this would have been a great run to the finish. Unfortunately, it was marred by two incidents where car occupants hurled stuff at us - first a glass bottle, then a full soda bottle. Luckily they both missed, but we rode angry for a while anyway. The road south from Monroe to Carnation had generally good shoulders and gave us the opportunity to regain our equilibrium and finish strongly, catching Frank just as we turned into the parking lot at the finish. James would arrive about half an hour later.

Another challenging and scenic ride in the good company of fellow randonneurs. And my new goal accomplished - 10,000 kilometers of randonneur events this year. The road continues, however. The goal is only a waypoint, not a destination. Next up - Paris Brest Paris. And I see another waypoint up ahead. I have 48,300 lifetime randonneur kilometers, so there's another milepost not far ahead at 50k!

A note from Anita Hameister

2007-08-01T09:30:00.000-07:00

I received a very nice e-mail from Steve Hameister's wife last night. It says a lot about Steve and about randonneuring.

Mark

The farewell took place tonight for all family. It is yet so surreal. I went thru his belongings and saw his passion yet again.

Steven drank in nature, didn't enjoy loud machines. Sailing, biking, hiking...never snow mobiles, power boats......He didn't get it why someone wanted to disturb the amazing sound of the natural world. He told me to try to imagine riding in the middle of the night in silence. Watching stars when the road felt safe to look away. He said the stars were intoxicating. Oh, and seeing Eagles and Hawks soaring, wow.

He only called me once when he said he was in Aberdeen and felt he couldn't finish, needing me to come get him. Next morning he was chipper and had finished. He felt good about his personal best. The journey and completion was his deal.

His journey in this place of time and space were authentic. He felt a kinship with all riders. Raw effort, compassion for the struggle I believe kept him in the sport. His competition was with himself.

I thank you all for being part of his joy. I am sad to lose such an amazing man. He was a good Husband, Father, Grandfather...he was gentle and caring a very deep way.

If any pictures of him are floating around in the past rides, please forward them.

With Gratitude to all RUSA........Keep it up. There are lots of guys you make a difference to.

Anita Hameister
Glacier WA

Olympia 3

2007-08-01T09:12:00.000-07:00

Sunday brought out another good crowd of 50+ riders for the Olympia 200km brevet. The Piepers - Robin and Amy - were a particularly welcome sight. We haven't done much riding together this year - Robin is a much faster rider and Amy has largely sat out this randonneuring season. In fact, I think Amy indicated that the 200km would mark her longest single day ride of the year. We had had a great time on the Dart earlier in the year, and looked forward to riding together again. The Piepers had just returned from a week-long tour in British Columbia with Danelle and John's Tour BC. Robin had made a solemn promise to Amy to ride with her all day and Peter and I were happy to draft along behind him for the ride.

Nine and a half hours of great company, nice roads, and good riding - an excellent conclusion to my "too much is not enough" weekend of randonneuring. I felt tired but good after three days of riding. Looking forward to Paris-Brest-Paris!

Olympia 2

2007-07-30T16:53:00.000-07:00

Sometimes the ups and downs come from more than the terrain. On a day marred by tragedy (see note about Steve), we rode the Olympia 300km brevet. Brian List, Dave Read, and Peg Winczewski developed a nice route through the back roads of Thurston and Lewis Counties. More than 50 riders showed up - probably a record for one of our summer brevets. Gregg Bleakney came out to take photos, which can be seen here.

We started with a blistering pace out to the first control (less than 10 miles out). Corey Thompson, back from teaching in France, signed cards for the riders. We started to settle down after that - still making good time out to Steamboat Island. The 9 miles out to and 9 miles back from the turnaround at the end of Steamboat Island afforded a nice opportunity to see all the riders. The long gentle climb up SR-8 felt terrific. I saw Steve Hameister, who was having a terrific ride. After the control at Malone, the tougher hills started.

At the top of Gerrard Creek road, we encountered the usual Olympia brevet oasis - Peg and Brian with food, drink, and chairs. Brian noticed casing showing through Peter McKay's rear tire, so Bob Brudvik and I (right) took advantage of the repair time to relax. On the way down the hill, we encountered the PBP-bound tandem of Peter Beeson and Max Maxon coming back up. Some mechanical problems would take them out of the ride at this point; later in the afternoon they would get the bike fixed in Olympia and would be back for the 200km brevet on Sunday.

The climb up Curtis Hill is a tough one. Last summer, I had struggled up on my single speed. I was very happy to have a full complement of gears this time, especially as I watched Bob grinding up the hill on his single speed PBP steed. Bob was having an uncharacteristically tough day, and the steep hill was no help.

At the bottom of the hill we stopped at the Curtis Store for a break - ice cream, sandwiches, ice, and drinks. Here's where we first heard about Steve - a driver came by to let us know that there was a cyclist in the ditch on the other side of the hill. She was not from the area and a little vague on location. We hoped/assumed that riders behind would be able to help. As we were trying to figure out how to get help to the cyclist (no cellphone service there for at&t or T-mobile and virtually unusable service from Verizon). At that point, the driver of another car indicated that aid was on the scene. We were eventually able to contact Brian List and Peter Beeson, who let us know that aid was indeed at the scene, that the rider was Steve Hameister, that Steve’s wife had been contacted, and that Steve would get care at a hospital in Centralia. We were at the Curtis Store for quite a while and received reports that extensive CPR had been performed at the scene and that defibrillator was used to get a pulse. Frankly it didn’t sound too good to us, but with Steve in professional care, a somber group headed out.

I would finish (130km later) with the group that formed at the store - the Jameson tandem (Don & Elaine), the Jensen tandem (Jim & Ann), Bob Brudvik, Peter McKay, Bill Dussler, Rick Haight, and I. We're all headed to PBP and really enjoyed each other's company. The Vader store provided the next ice cream stop. After Winlock, we climbed a series of rollers to some high farmland. At one point, Bill and I passed two little girls by the side of the road with notebooks. It took a moment, but we realized they were looking for mememtos from the riders, so we turned back. The whole group signed and wrote notes in their books. That was a sweet and uplifting thing, but when I used my cameraphone to take a picture I noticed a voicemail from Peter Beeson. Frankly, I assumed that it was an update on Steve and that it wouldn’t be good news. Unfortunately, that was correct. For the next 10 miles or so, I rode like someone had punched me in the gut and let the air out of my tires. I tried comforting thoughts out on myself (like, “he was doing what he loved”), but it wasn’t helping much. Peter McKay did much to help me then – drawing in part on how he dealt with the loss of his brother in a jet ski accident. Good friends, good cycling, and the thought of the smiling little girls reminded me that life is good, even with all of its messiness, unevenness, and tragedy.

Steve Hameister 1954-2007

2007-07-30T08:41:00.001-07:00

Lost a friend on Saturday. SIR member Steve Hameister suffered a heart attack during our 300km (not long after this picture). Efforts to revive him at the scene and in the hospital were ultimately unsuccessful.

Steve started riding with us in 2005. Never one of the fastest riders, he was always one of the most determined. He rode his first full series with us last year, combining it with rides in CA and OR for a RUSA 2000km award. This year he rode a difficult 1000km in poor conditions as part of his training for Paris-Brest-Paris. I supported that ride; Steve was matter-of-fact about the challenges and determined always to finish, which he did - one of six (of eleven starters) who finished that weekend. He came in wet, happy, tired, and proud.

Steve gave back to the club as well. For last month's 400km, I needed a volunteer to sit at the top of Stevens Pass all night to man a control. When I put out a last minute request for help, Steve was the first to respond. Manning a post over 100 miles from home, Steve was a welcome sight to the riders at the end of a difficult climb.

Paris-Brest-Paris was on his agenda. He'll be there next month, but only in our thoughts and memories. Thanks, Steve.

Olympia 1

2007-07-27T20:14:00.000-07:00

In part to help riders prepare for Paris-Brest-Paris, SIR scheduled two days of rides in Olympia at the end of July - a 300km brevet on Saturday, July 28 and a 200km brevet on Sunday, July 29. Proponents claim the benefit of two successive days of riding in a row before the 3-4 day PBP. Others suggest that a 500km weekend less than 4 weeks before PBP might be too much. I take the Deep Purple view of this: "Too much is not enough." So on Friday, I headed down to Olympia to add a 200km permanent to the weekend's festivities.

Frank Kaplan carpooled with me from Redmond and John Vincent joined us in Olympia. The route was RUSA Permanent #202 from Olympia to Brinnon to Olympia. Frank and John will be first-timers at PBP next month; I enjoyed their infectious enthusiasm for the upcoming event.

The course is good PBP preparation with similar amounts of climbing and types of climbing. Great weather, nice Hood Canal and mountain views, and good coffee shop stops enhanced the experience. Somehow, in all my previous stops at the Hoodsport Coffee Company, I had overlooked the fact that in addition to friendly folks and good coffee, they also have ICE CREAM (good ice cream, too). Today I remedied this oversight.

Good riding pace and relaxed stops and regroups brought us back to Olympia in just under 10 hours, followed by dinner with Peter Beeson and Eric Vigoren for dinner. Looking forward to the 300km tomorrow.

-- "You've got it bad, you're hopelessly addicted"

Mount Baker Climb

2007-07-21T21:59:00.001-07:00

Sometimes you just get lucky. A weather system full of rain decided to park for a week over the Pacific Northwest. (Believe it or not, rain in the NW in late July is news). Dan Turner and I decided to take the best looking day and ride the Mount Baker Climb permanent today. Geoff Swarts joined us. We rode 150 of the 200 kilometers including all of the Mount Baker climb and most of the descent with no rain. Very nice.

We couldn't quite get to Artist Point (end of the road) because of ice and snow still on the roadway, but we did get within about a half-mile of the end (about 5000ft elevation).

Looking forward to our gathering of PBP-bound SIR members tomorrow.