Caution - Morons on Road Ahead

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

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

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

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

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!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Crank it up

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

All in all, an excellent five day weekend.

Sneaking one

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fleche Fun

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Giving Back

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

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


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


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

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

Volunteer Benefits

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

The Pre-Ride:

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

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

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

Volunteering:

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

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

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

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

Chili Feed:

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

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

The Accidental Permanent

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

With a Whimper

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

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

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

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

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.