Are Too

I'm now two rides into my pursuit of my first R-12 award. Call it R-2. The R-12 is an award for riding at least one randonneuring event of 200km or more for 12 consecutive months. Yesterday I rode the Leschi - Auburn - Leschi 200 km permanent. I started with a group of five including Robert Higdon, Chris Gay, John Whitenack and Joe Llona. Joe was on his fixed gear bike (pushing a massive 78 gear inches).

I rode down to the start in Leschi in the dark with a fine mist falling from the sky. Not really rain, but it gets you wet, just the same. The temperature was about 45 degrees. The weather never really changed all day except that the light misting slowly turned into a light drizzle, and then just good old rain.

I met the rest of the group at the Leschi Starbucks and we hit the road a few minutes after 8:00. The ride heads south along Lake Washington to Renton and then out toward Maple Valley on the Cedar River trail. Every time I ride in this area south of Lake Washington, I think I need to get out here on my bike more. There are really some great roads and trails out there. We followed a little road from the Maple Valley highway out to Ravensdale that was as good as it gets, with fun little ups, downs, twists and turns.

From the first controle at Ravensdale, the route heads back west to Auburn. When we got to Auburn Robert and Chris decided to head home from there. I can't blame them at all. By this time the rain was coming down steadily and there was no sign that it would get any better. Chris was just getting over a cold and Robert just wasn't feeling right. So they headed for hot showers while Joe, John and I headed off into the rain toward Flaming Geyser.

The climb near Flaming Geyser park is the biggest climb of the ride. With grades up to about 8% and nearly two miles of climbing, it definitely gets your attention. I needed to get home by six, so on the climb I realized I'd have to get a move on to make it on time. I apologized to Joe and John for leaving and then kicked up the pace a bit.

For the rest of the ride I was on my own, riding through Black Diamond, Cumberland, Issaquah and then familiar territory along Lake Sammamish. The last part of the ride follows the Sammamish Valley trail and Burke Gilman trail from Marymoor Park, up to Woodinville and then down the West side of Lake Washington back to Leschi.

Just before University Village I got my only flat tire of the ride. In the dark. And the rain. I was a little over a mile away from home at that point and it would have been very easy to just walk the bike home and call it a day. But I still needed to make it to Leschi to finish the route, and then ride home from there. So, I reminded myself that it's good practice to fix a flat on a dark rainy night, and I fixed it and then rode on to the finish.

I finished the permanent in about nine and a half hours. With the ride to and from the start, it was a 142 mile day. A hot shower has never felt so nice.

Three Rivers and a Frozen Crow

I finally managed to ride a permanent this weekend. I joined Robert, Chris, John, Jeff and Alan for the "Three Rivers Cruise" out of Arlington yesterday. The Three Rivers Cruise is one of the most popular SIR permanents and it's easy to see why. The scenery is beautiful, the roads are mostly smooth with light traffic and the ride has very little climbing. It's almost too perfect for Randonneuring. Seems like it needs a rough section of road construction or maybe a steep mountain pass or two to make it feel more official. In spite of the lack of suffering and hardship, we had a great ride that even featured a sitdown meal in Concrete.

Starting the day by scraping frost off the windshield had me a little concerned about the weather. And then about a mile into the ride I nearly ran over a dead crow on the side of the road covered with frost. It was kind of beautiful in a creepy sort of way, with the white frost on the jet black feathers. But, even though it was pretty cold throughout the day, I mostly managed to keep all my bits warm enough.

Here's Chris and the rest as we're just getting started, a few miles out of Arlington. Chris selflessly got the lone flat tire of the ride shortly after I took this picture.



Hay, Robert! (get it? heh, heh.)



Heading east on hwy 530 about to cross one of the three rivers (don't ask me which one). The snow was low in the hills around us. For a while we even saw some snow along the side of the road between Darrington and Rockport. The temperatures were in the low 30s for the first three or four hours.



Robert, Chris and a nice shot of my ear as we were approaching Darrington.



The sun peaked out a few times throughout the day, though it never offered much warmth, nor did it stick around for long.



Somewhere along Hwy 530 I stopped to deal with some "mechanical issues" behind a tree. Here I am trying to catch the group again as they try to hide from me in the fog.



The road between Darrington and Rockport was a classic biking road. Smooth pavement, no cars, moss covered trees. It could only have been better if there had been shot blocks growing on the bushes.



Here's the group riding on Hwy 530 trying to pretend like they don't know me as I almost become the hood ornament on a minivan coming the other way.

Hwy 20 is closed for the season so Marblemount is literally a dead end town until the road opens again next spring. Still, they have a bike rack in front of the Shell station!



Snow in the hills.



We stopped at the Red Cedar Cafe in Concrete for a good hot sitdown lunch. Picking a place to eat wasn't difficult since some guys milling around in the streets told us that the Red Cedar was the only place in town that was open. One of the nice things about long bike rides is that it's impossible to find bad food along the way. Whatever you find is fabulous. Halfway through this meal, we started talking about what we were going to have for dinner.



I have a hunch that if this place had been open they would have told us that we weren't the kind of biker they were talking about. Not twenty feet from this sign, there was another sign on the street that said bicycles, skateboards and rollerskates were prohibited.



Here we are with full stomachs, moving a little slower now along South Skagit Highway.



Not sure what to make of this...



("I'm a lowlife. My name is asshole" is painted on the side)

Unfortunately the last little stretch is a busy section of Hwy 9 that's not terribly pleasant, but it's hard to complain since the other 90% of the ride is near perfect. We made our way back to Arlington at about 5:00pm, more or less in one piece and already talking about the next ride. Thanks for letting me ride with you guys!

Permanently Lame

I tried to ride my first permanent this past weekend but due to poor planning, and poorer execution it just wasn't to be. For the non-randonneurs (hi mom!), a permanent is basically a brevet without all the planning and hoopla. You can ride a permanent by yourself or with others. You just tell the official permanent coordinators what route you're going to do, when you're going to do it, and then they send you the brevet card and off you go. You record the ride in the brevet card and send it in to be blessed by the Pope or whoever it is who blesses such things, and you get credit just like any organized brevet. And what do you do with that "credit" that you get? Um, I'm still trying to figure that out.

Anyway, I had planned to join a few other SIR members for the Three Rivers Cruise on Saturday at 7:00am. The TRC is a 200km route from Arlington that goes through Darrington, Marblemount, Concrete, Sedro Wooley and ends back in Arlington. I've heard it's a very pretty route and fairly flat the whole way.

Well, I slept too long and didn't have my stuff together in advance, so I scrambled around in the morning trying to get my gear together, my water bottles and tires filled, etc. I headed out the door about 15 minutes late and then half way to Arlington realized that I had forgotten the directions to the ride start and some other key pieces of equipment. So after some cursing, I turned around and headed for home.

But, with nice weather and permission from the family to go for a long ride, I figured I couldn't completely waste the opportunity. After a cup of coffee at home I headed out for one of my favorite routes. It's a route I've done several times and it never gets old. I rode up the Burke Gilman trail to Woodinville, then up back roads to Snohomish. A little north of Snohomish I picked up Dubuque Rd which connects with Old Pipeline Rd and took me all the way to Sultan. From Sultan there's another nice little country road called Ben Howard Rd that gets me back to Monroe. Then it's familiar roads to Woodinville and home on the BG trail.

Here's a little stretch of the Burke Gilman trail:



The whole ride is just over a hundred miles and spends very little time on busy roads.



The weather was cool and beautiful, the trees were turning all those great Pottery Barn colors and lamas were friendly.



It just doesn't get any better than that. I also found some interesting road side debris. Somewhere along Dubuque Rd there was a big pile of vinyl coated canvas in primary colors that I'm pretty sure was a deflated bouncy house. Adam would have been thrilled if I could have figured out a way to carry that home.

Somewhere Bollenbough Hill Rd...

Let There Be Light

And the Randonneur said, “Let there be light.”
And there was lightAnd the light flowed forth from a light emitting diode.
And the light’s energy flowed from the SON*.
And the Randonneur saw the light, that it was good…

*Schmidt Original Nabendynamo

I’m finally entering the 21st century. Well, at least with regard to bike lights. I’ve been riding brevets with two Cateye HL-EL530 lights as headlights. I actually think these lights aren’t bad as far as cheap battery powered headlights go. They were able to get me through an SR series plus a 600k brevet that involved two full nights of riding over mountain passes. That’s something. But I have to admit that descending mountain passes in the middle of the night with those lights was one of the scarier things I’ve ever done. I was way out-riding my headlights at times and was lucky to have survived unscathed.

I decided that since it looks like I’m going to keep doing this Randonneuring thing--and I want to live to see my kids graduate from high school--I need to get a serious “lighting system” for my bike. And among Randonneurs, a serious lighting system generally begins with a Schmidt dynamo front hub. The brightest bike lights these days are battery powered, but the good battery powered lights don’t have the run time to survive a full night of riding without carrying heavy and expensive spare batteries or somehow recharging along the way. A dynamo hub powering an LED headlight comes pretty close to the light output of the battery systems and has the advantage of always being available, as long as you can keep the bike moving. Essentially your lights are powered by Fig Newtons and Gatorade instead of batteries.

So, I’m having a new front wheel built with a SON 28 hub by Peter White. Peter is the exclusive US distributor for Schmidt and his web site is the source of information on dynamo lighting systems not to mention a lot of other oddball niche bike gear. For a headlight, I ordered the Busch & Müller Lumotec IQ Cyo. I struggled a bit with this decision. The Schmidt Edelux and Supernova E3 are both very highly regarded but cost about twice as much as the B&M. After talking to Penny at Peter White Cycles and poring over every review I could find of these headlights, I decided the B&M light sounds like at least 95% of the light for 50% of the price. I also ordered a B&M taillight that can be mounted on the rear fender and wired into the dynamo.

Now I get to wait. Peter is going on vacation, so it’ll be a month or so before I get my wheel and lights. Stay tuned… once it arrives and I get everything installed, I’ll let you know how it all works.

My Computer Doesn't Like Long Rides

Okay, I've had a blog for over two weeks now and I haven't posted a rant yet, so it's high time, don't ya think?

I use a VDO MC 1.0 computer on my Surly Cross Check to keep track of how far, how fast, and for how long I've been going. It's a pretty nice computer for the most part, it does the basics of speed, distance and time reasonably well, and adds an altimeter to track things like total climbing, % grade, current elevation, etc. It's worked well for me in the 2,500 or so miles I've been using it with the exception of two rides.

Since I've had it, I've done two 600k brevets with it. Both times, about 300 miles into the ride it spontaneously reset itself. Not a full reset, but all of the ride data went away and started back at zero. The first time it happened, I just assumed that it was either a loose connection that momentarily disconnected the battery, or maybe it was pilot error and I accidentally pushed the wrong buttons (quite possible after 300 miles). When it happened on my second 600k I got suspicious. It had never happened on any other rides and both times it happened about 300 miles into the ride. That's just too much coincidence to be... well, coincidence.

So today I finally got around to doing some googling to see if this is a known problem with this computer. Lo and behold, right there on page six of the owners manual it says, "Important: If the ride timer overflows 19:59:59 h, it is automatically reset to 00:00:00. Simultaneously, your average speed counter AVG SPEED is reset to zero. If your trip counter overflows 999.99 KM or M, it is automatically reset to 000.00 Simultaneously, your average speed counter AVG SPEED and your ride timer RIDE TIME are reset to zero." Note that I have the Instruction Manual at home, but had to use Google to find this information. And to rub it in, the manual repeats this information in Deutsch, Français, Italian, Español, and Nederlands.

Finding this in the instruction manual (or Manuel D'Installation Et D'Utilisation if you prefer) tells me that this is not a bug, but it's actually a feature of the product. Okay.

I mean, I realize that not a lot of VDO's target market is out there doing 20 hour rides, but still you'd think the failure point would be somewhere so far outside the norm that you wouldn't run into it unless you're really looking for it, right?

Apparently not.

So since this information had me a bit annoyed, I posted this on Bike Forums in the Long Distance Cycling section to see if anyone there could recommend another computer that didn't have the feature. It turns out that this feature is not unique to the VDO MC 1.0. For example, I'm told the CicloMaster 4.3A only displays ride times up to 9:59:59. Another poster mentioned that he didn't know of any computers that would record more than 24 hours.

So, I guess I'm just going to live with this feature of the VDO MC 1.0. After all, it's not like knowing my average speed over an entire 600k is essential information. Still, I'm starting to notice an annoying trend in cycling products designed for the mass market. The product designers are apparently making the assumption that the users of their products don't actually do much cycling. I suppose they have a point. There are an awful lot of bicycles in this country that are stored in the basement next to the Nordic Trak and are used primarily for drying laundry.

Budget Randonneuse

A non-randonneur friend of mine saw the pictures in the post about the SIR Mountain 600k and was curious about my bike and the way it’s set up. It definitely doesn’t look like the typical mass-market racing oriented bike, so I thought I’d write a thing or two about my bike and why it’s set up the way it is.

First of all, to understand my bike you have to understand something about me. I’m basically a cheapskate. I think my bike has worked pretty well for the few brevets it’s been through so far, but it’s far from the dream randonneuring setup. Many of my fellow randonneurs have spent several times as much money on their rides, and it shows. Anyway, here’s what I’m riding on brevets:



Frame
The frame is a Surly Cross Check. I went with the Cross Check because it had the features I wanted, it fits and it’s inexpensive. I wanted a frame that would allow the use of wide tires (more about that later) with fenders, uses cantilever brakes, has braze-ons/eyelets to attach fenders and racks easily, and is made of steel. The Cross Check isn’t the lightest frame available with these features, but it is inexpensive and has a great reputation for reliability and ride quality.

You can buy a Cross Check as a complete bike or as a frame only. I went with the complete bike because even though I intended to swap out some of the key parts, it’s still a bargain and many of the parts are quite usable.

Drive Train
The Cross Check came with a 2 X 9 speed Shimano Tiagra drive train with bar end shifters. I kept the Tiagra front and rear derailleurs, but changed out the shifters to Dura Ace ten speed downtube shifters. I like downtube shifters for randonneuring because they are about as simple and reliable as it gets. If the indexing gets messed up on a long brevet, you just switch them to non-indexed shifting and ride on. They may not be quite as convenient as the ubiquitous brifters, but it doesn’t bother me at all to have to take my hands off the bars to shift gears. The Tiagra derailleurs are nothing special, but they work. I’ll probably upgrade to Ultegra when they wear out.

Gearing
I’m using the stock Sugino crank set with the 48t and 36t chain rings on the front, and a 10 speed 12 – 28 cassette on the back. A lot of randonneurs use lower gearing than that, but this setup has worked for me just fine. I ride a single speed bike a lot, so I’m used to standing up and grunting to get up hills once in a while.

Wheels and Tires
The wheels are hand built with DT Swiss r520 rims laced to Ultegra hubs. These wheels came on another bike I bought a while back and they seem to be very reliable so I moved them over to the Surly and they’ve performed well. They are not particularly light but they are tough, which is fine because that’s sort of the theme for this bike.

I use Panaracer Pasela 28mm tires. They last fairly long and are pretty flat resistant, but what I like best about them is that they roll very smooth and cushy. So why wide 28mm tires when most of the racer bike crowd uses the much skinnier 23mm width? It’s basically a trade off between speed and comfort. Narrower tires are supposedly faster because of reduced rolling resistance and the aero advantage. Wider tires are more comfortable and generally get fewer flats. In my experience the difference in speed is minimal (if there even is a real difference). The plusher ride and flat resistance of wider tires on the other hand are very real and noticeable differences. And the smoother ride becomes a huge factor once you get beyond about 200 miles on a ride. So why do most road bikes sold in the US have 23mm tires? Because that’s what Lance and his buddies use, and what they use is sexy. Randonneuring is the anti-sexy.

Cockpit
Here’s where I did the most customizing and didn’t worry too much about cost. The handlebars, seat, pedals, brake levers, are the user interface of the bike. If you spend a lot of time on your bike, you’ve gotta get this part right. I use a Brooks B-17 saddle. Brooks has been making saddles like this since Moses was riding brevets. They aren’t light, they aren’t sleek, and they are about as sexy as Sandra Day O’Connor, but they are comfortable for many hours of riding.

I use Nitto Noodle handlebars. They have a non-ergo old school shape that allows a lot of different comfortable hand positions. Being able to move your hands around to different positions is key to staying comfortable on long rides.
I swapped out the cheap stock stem for a Velo Orange stem which is pretty and shiny and otherwise does what a stem is supposed to do.

Another reason I like downtube shifters is because it allows me to use these Tektro brake levers which are cheap, well made and very comfortable for riding with your hands on the hoods, which is where I spend most of my time.

I use Shimano SPD MTB style pedals. SPD pedals are easy to get in and out of and they make for more walkable shoes than typical road pedals, which is good when you’re heading into the convenience store for some Jojos and V8.

Fenders
Fenders are pretty much required for Randonneuring in the Pacific NW. They keep you and your bike much cleaner and drier when the road is wet, but probably more importantly, they make it much more pleasant for the person behind you when you’re riding in a pace line in the rain. My fenders are from Velo Orange and they’re aluminum. They don’t weigh much more than plastic but they’re much tougher (once again, not light but tough).

Rack and Baggage
I have a Nitto M12 rack on the front which is there to support a Velo Orange Campagne handlebar bag. There are lots of ways to carry stuff on a bike; panniers, saddlebags, trunk bags, handlebar bags, etc. I like having a handlebar bag because it can carry enough stuff for a 600k ride up front where it’s all accessible while I’m riding. I can get to food, clothing, my camera, and anything else without having to pull over. It also has a nice little map holder on top that works well for cue sheets. Carrying a full load on the front of the bike effects handling a little, but not so much that it bothers me. It probably creates a little more wind drag than a trunk bag, but the easy access makes it a worthwhile tradeoff for me.

Lighting
So far of the six brevets I’ve ridden, only three really required riding at night. I was able to get through all of those using two Cateye EL530 headlights and a couple of Planet Bikes Superflash taillights. The EL530s work okay for speeds up to about 16 mph. But I learned on the SIR Mountain 600k that they don’t really cut it for descending mountain passes at 35 mph. A lot of randonneurs use dynamo front hubs to run powerful headlights that almost rival car headlights. They’re expensive systems, but after some really scary descents in the middle of the night I’m now ready to jump on the band wagon and upgrade to a dynamo hub system. Bright lights and no more batteries to eventually end up in a land fill…

So if you put all that stuff together, you get a bike that is part touring and part racing, which is pretty much what randonneuring is all about. It’s tough and reliable and most of the parts can be serviced on the road if you’ve got the right tools and parts. Without baggage and water bottles and lights, it tips the scale at about 23 lbs. That’s a lot more than a high end race bike, but pretty typical for a randonneuse. When it’s loaded up with everything I need for a 600k ride, it’s more like 35 lbs.

SIR's Mountain 600k - Because Finishing Was Easier Than Quitting

When asked why he wanted to climb Mt. Everest, George Mallory famously said, “because it’s there.” Maybe… but I suspect Mallory was also stuck in a trap similar to the one I got myself into this weekend. Sometimes when you take on some incredibly difficult and foolish endeavor, you get yourself to the point where backing out becomes more unpalatable than actually doing the stupid thing. So you just do the stupid thing. But I’m getting ahead of myself…

This weekend the Seattle International Randonneur’s held their “Mountain 600k” brevet. This would be my second 600k, so I thought I could handle it… until I started learning about the details. Not only did it included four major climbs for a total of over 25,000 ft, but the organizer also took a very Spartan approach to support on this ride. Most of the contrôles (checkpoints) were unmanned and far away from any services. There would be no SAG wagon, no drop bags, no tables filled with yummy snacks along the way. Nearly the entire course was out of cell phone service areas. The ride organizer and other volunteers were traveling by bike so even if you could call them, there’s not much they could do for you other than to tell you to harden up and get on with it. There would be stretches of well over 100 miles with no open stores and few opportunities for water. And to top it all off, the ride started at 9:00pm Friday, so it was nearly impossible to avoid riding most of the course during the night.

Route Elevation Profile :(

I rushed home from work Friday and scrambled around making sure I had all my gear together. After quadruple checking my list and loading the bike in the car, I headed down to Enumclaw for the start. I got there at about 8:15 with plenty of time to get checked in, pass the bike inspection and then sit around worrying about the ride. If the intent of the choices of a tough course, minimal support and a dreary start time was to scare riders away from this event, then the turnout proved them successful. Thirteen riders showed up (cue the ominous music). After a brief pre-ride talk from Jan Heine, the organizer, it was time. We rolled out into the night with 374 miles ahead of us and our sanity falling off into the distance behind us.

Jan and Kole Kanter immediately disappeared off the front and the remaining eleven stayed together as we left Enumclaw headed for Mt. Rainier and the first big climb. At this point, nothing was feeling right to me. My knees were hurting, my hands were going numb, my neck was sore, it just felt weird to be on a bike. I suppose that was mostly because I’m not used to starting a ride at night, but it had me worried. We rode on as a group moving along pretty well. I’m not crazy about riding in a pace line at night, but the first couple hours of the ride required a bit of navigation so I stayed with the group. If we got lost, we’d get lost together.

As we approached Eatonville, I realized the navigation was easy from there on out, so I pulled ahead of the group. I figured they’d catch up to me again if they stayed together. Heading out of Eatonville I was all alone and heading into some pretty dark and lonely stretches of road. A little scary, but it’s always easier when you know there’s someone behind you.

I made a quick stop in Elbe to refill my water bottles but kept it quick. I made the entrance of the Mt. Rainier park at about 12:30. My goal had been to get there by 1:00am, so I was moving well (too well?). Once in the park, the climbing started. The Paradise climb is really not too bad. Maybe it’s because it was early in the ride, but I was feeling great at this point. All of the aches and pains and awkwardness I had felt early in the ride were gone now and I was just enjoying the solitude. Every time I came to an opening in the trees, I’d look up and see Orion lying on his side in the sky above me. The moon was also up and quite stunning. Unfortunately it’s tough to look up at the sky much when you’re on a bicycle, but I snuck peeks whenever I could.


Going by Longmire on my way up to Paradise at about 1:00am Saturday morning

I pulled into the visitor center at Paradise (elevation 5,400’) at about 2:00am. Kole was there in the parking lot when I arrived asking if I had seen Jan. I hadn’t passed him so apparently he had snuck off the road to attend to some business or something because he pulled up behind me a couple of minutes later. I went into the lodge to fill water bottles and there was a group of about ten people having a little party in the hallway that lead to the bathroom. They had a guitar and hamonica, and apparently a LOT of beer. What the musicians lacked in talent, they easily made up for in drunkenness. As I walked past and said hullo, I’m pretty sure most of them were trying to figure out whether or not I was an hallucination, what with the spandex and helmet and all. I’m certain I wasn’t. Kole and Jan had left while I was in getting water, so it was time to roll.

The descent down from Paradise was freezing! I don’t think it was really that cold out, but I had got myself good and sweaty on the way up and I didn’t put on enough clothes for the trip down. It was all I could do to keep the bike traveling in a straight line since I was shivering so violently. But once the descent leveled some and I was able to start pedaling again, I warmed up.

From Paradise to Packwood, it was almost all downhill. There were virtually no cars on the road (actually I’m not sure if I saw any) and I was feeling good so I made pretty good time. I rolled into Packwood around 5:00am. When I pulled into the Shell station in Packwood, Kole was just coming out the door. He had a problem with his tire that he had fixed there, and he was eating some deep fried convenience store monstrosity. I decided I didn’t really need anything, so I got back on the bike and pushed on to Randle another 15 miles or so down the road.

I stopped at the convenience store in Randle and actually had to stand in a line to buy my breakfast. Apparently the convenience store is the place to be in Randle at 5:45 in the morning.


Breakfast in Randle. I washed that down with some Gatorade.


Rolling out of Randle heading toward Windy Ridge

The sun was starting to come up as I pulled out of Randle heading for Windy Ridge. The ride up to Windy Ridge is one I had done before, in the High Pass Challenge last summer. I would be taking a slightly different route up this time, using FR-26 instead of the main route on NFD 25. FR-26 is a beautiful bike road. I think I saw only one car and six elk, so the elk far outnumbered cars. There were some steep sections near the top that were 15% grades according to my fancy-schmancy cyclocomputer. Luckily they didn’t last too long. All along the way I had stunning views of Mt. Rainier in the distance, and the Mt. St. Helens blast zone as I approached the top.


FR-26 on the way up to Windy Ridge


Mt Rainier from FR-26

One thing that often strikes me on these rides is the incredible distances you can cover on a bike. That’s Mt. Rainier in the distance. I was leaving Paradise on the slopes of that mountain about five hours before this picture was taken. Now it looked to be a long ways away.


FR-26 goes right through part of the Mt. St. Helens blast zone

At 9:45am I got to the Windy Ridge overlook. I saw Jan and Kole briefly on the way up since there’s an out-and-back section of about seven miles to get to the overlook. They had both already been to the overlook and were on their way down. Jan was a little over an hour ahead of me at that point, and Kole was maybe 45 minutes ahead. On the way down from Windy Ridge was one of the two contrôles that was actually staffed. A fellow named John Pierce (?) was there with pancakes and some other very welcome goodies. He had slept there in the back of his car and told me stories about hearing elk calls while he was off in the weeds with his pants around his ankles (no, really). I also saw Vincent Muoneke heading out to Windy Ridge as I was coming back. He was about 45 minutes behind me. Vincent was the first I had seen of another rider behind me since Eatonville about ten hours before.


The velo takes in the view at the Windy Ridge overlook

While I was at Windy Ridge, I talked to a tourist who had driven up to the overlook. He was asking the usual questions about where I had ridden from, when I started and where I was going. I’m positive he thought I was pulling his leg every time I answered another question. He was giving me a look like, “what kind of idiot do you think I am?” I suspect most Randonneurs love to be asked those questions because of the crazy looks and weird responses you get when you answer honestly. Yes, we get that 99.9% of people think we’re insane for doing what we do.

The descent from Windy Ridge is a screamer with some tight turns and the occasional pothole and crack in the road to keep you awake. I was glad to be doing this one in the daylight. It was warming up as I came into the lowlands. My fancy-shmancy cyclocomputer said it was about 85 degrees as I pulled into Packwood for the second time at 1:30. Time for lunch.


A nice barn near Packwood with Mt. Rainier peeking through

I decided to spend a little time in Packwood, eating some “real” food and resting a bit. I had a phenomenal meal of a turkey sub sandwich with chocolate milk (I love the way a long bike ride can turn convenience store “food” into the best tasting delicacies you’ve ever had). After 30 minutes, which was by far my longest stop so far, I was back on the bike and headed for White Pass.

Pardon my French, but the climb up to White Pass is a bitch. It goes on and on and on… It didn’t help that I was climbing during the hottest part of the day and it was nearly 90. This climb was really where the suffering started on this ride. I mean, there were some painful little climbs on the way up to Windy Ridge, but there’s pain and then there’s suffering. White Pass was all about suffering. I also made a bit of a tactical error when I left Packwood. I had two full water bottles. I thought about filling a third because I knew I couldn’t make White Pass on only two bottles. But, I figured I’d save the extra weight and find a place to refill on the way… There was no place to refill on the way. About five miles from the summit and moving at a snail’s pace, I was nearly out of water and really thirsty because I had been trying to stretch what water I had as far as possible. I pulled into a scenic overlook to rest for a minute and take a picture. There I met a couple of angels driving a motorhome. Pat Something-or-other and his wife (whose name I can’t remember) from Iowa were on vacation and had stopped to take pictures of Mt Rainier. Pat came over and started asking about my bike and what I was up to. It turns out that Pat, now 68, had done a century ride back when he was 45 and it had been one of those special achievements in his life that he loved to relive. That century ride was Pat’s winning touchdown pass in the last minutes of the homecoming game. When I mentioned that I was a little low on water, Pat invited me into the motorhome and pulled a couple of ice-cold water bottles out of the refrigerator. A chorus of Pat’s angel buddies burst into song as I chugged that water. After hearing all about Pat’s ride twenty-some-odd years ago, I thanked Pat and Mrs. Something-or-other profusely and told them I needed to get on the way. Pat got me another of bottle from the fridge for the road and wished me safe travels.

After my encounter with the angels, the last five miles to the pass weren’t so bad. I reached the summit at about 5:00. I snapped a couple pictures and then hopped back on the bike for the easy coast down to Rimrock Lake and the overnight contrôle about 13 miles away.


The obligatory summit sign picture. Thought I’d never get there.

The overnight was at a nice little cabin on the shores of Rimrock Lake. Ryan Hamilton was there generously serving up chili, soup and sandwiches, filling up empty water bottles, and offering a shower and a cot to rest on.

Because of the 9:00pm start time of this brevet, the overnight contrôle really wasn’t much of an overnight. Traditionally, the overnight contrôle is about 400km into a 600km brevet. Most riders will finish 400km in the neighborhood of 20 hours, so if you start the brevet early in the morning you’ll usually get to the overnight late at night, generally a great time to stop and rest for a while. I arrived at the contrôle at about 5:30pm, 20 ½ hours into the ride. Even though I hadn’t slept in about 36 hours at that point, my body just isn’t wired to sleep at 5:30 in the evening. I had a couple of bowls of chili, took a shower, got back into my gritty sweaty clothes and then laid down on a cot to rest. After tossing and turning for a while, I eventually dozed for twenty minutes or so. But real sleep was elusive so I just decided to get on with it. I thanked Ryan for the hospitality and started getting ready to ride. The sun was going down, so I put on nearly all of the clothes and reflective gear I had and headed out at about 7:40.


Leaving the overnight contrôle. Not crazy about the idea of spending another night on the bike.

While I was napping at the overnight, Vincent had arrived. He had wolfed down some food quickly and got back on the road a couple of minutes ahead of me. Vincent and I played leapfrog for a little while as we cruised down the long gradual downhill to Hwy 410. Eventually I pulled ahead and was once again, alone with the night.


Looking back at the sunset over Rimrock Lake as I head toward Hwy 410 and Chinook pass.

I reached the junction of Hwy 12 and Hwy 410 near Naches at about 9:00pm. Here the route starts a looooong, albeit gradual climb up to Chinook Pass. At first there were plenty of cars on the road, and this being the part of the state where you wear lycra only if you’re a pro football player and it’s Sunday morning, many of the drivers were shouting obscenities and honking their horns. As the hours slipped by, there were thankfully fewer cars on the road until eventually only the bicyclists and the drunks remained.

Now I don’t have a lot of experience as a Randonneur, but from what I’ve seen every ride of 300km or more has a stretch where time seems to come to a stop. I had reached that stretch of road. One of the good things about riding in the dark is that you can’t see your computer to see how slowly the time and the miles are going by. But every so often, curiosity would get the better of me so I’d turn on my headlamp and take a peek at the computer. “Oh great, a half mile since the last time I looked! Woo hoo.” From the junction to the pass was the longest 47 miles I’ve ever traveled on a bike. I talked to myself, I sang, I hallucinated, but through it all I just kept turning the cranks. I didn’t really feel too bad all things considered; still the time and the miles went by incredibly slowly. But amazingly if you just keep turning the cranks you’ll eventually find yourself at your destination. I crept over Chinook Pass to the sound of elk calls shortly after 2:00am. I was wide awake at that point since I had had a bit of scare a few minutes earlier when a big shrub beside the road had me convinced that it was a mountain lion.

Back at the overnight contrôle Ryan had said that once you reach Chinook Pass, the ride is basically in the bag. Sure, there’s another 60 miles of road between you and the finish, but it’s almost all downhill. Ryan is a big fat liar (I mean that in the nicest way). Okay, you know how I said that last stretch was the longest 47 miles I had ever traveled on a bike? Well, at that time it was. But that’s only because I hadn’t done the stretch from Chinook Pass to the finish yet. Surprisingly it was on the downhill that everything started to hurt. I was also having a hard time with approaching cars not dimming their high beams and forcing me to slow way down to avoid going off the road from being blinded. And I was freezing my ass off. Oh yeah, and then there was the little side trip up to White River campground. Someone said it was basically flat. NOT. I suppose at any other time this measly 60 mile ride from Chinook Pass to Enumclaw would have been a stroll in the park for me, but after more than 300 miles, and nearly 30 hours on the bike, not to mention two nights without any real sleep, I was ready to be done.

Somewhere along this part of the ride I started thinking seriously about quitting. I mean really, I didn’t need to finish this stupid ride. Then I started thinking about what quitting meant. Here I was, nearly hypothermic, nowhere near cell phone range, in the dark, what traffic there was was all going away from civilization. Quitting would mean curling up in the ditch wrapped in my space blanket. Yeah, that idea was even less appealing than just soldiering on. And the idea of telling my friends and family that I had to quit was almost as painful as my sitbones. So, I did what Randonneurs do. I kept turning the cranks and eventually… I… got… there.

I arrived at the Kings Motel in Enumclaw at 6:45am, about 33 hours and 45 minutes after leaving. I had traveled 375 miles, climbed ~25,000 vertical feet, slept 20 minutes, and had consumed an incalculable number of calories, mostly sugary goo or something from under the heat lamps at a gas station/convenience store. Of the 13 riders who started, nine finished. I was the third rider to finish.

What This World Needs is Another Blog

Yeah, probably not... Anyway, I'm starting this blog as a service to my friends and family. For the past few months I've been emailing detailed descriptions of long boring bike rides to my friends and family, clogging their inboxes with jiggly photos and long descriptions about fascinating topics like gear ratios and what I wore and ate on a nine hour bike ride in the rain. Well, the emails are coming to an end. From now on I'll post my ride reports here for the whole universe to ignore.

If you haven't been getting my ride reports in the past, here's a little history:

Over the past 12 or so years I've commuted by bicycle from my home in North Seattle to jobs in downtown Seattle, Kirkland and Bellevue. It wasn't always every day, and it wasn't always year-round, but still I logged quite a few miles getting myself to and from work. But for most of that time, my bike was nothing more than a commuting tool. I almost never went for a ride for fun or exercise and I almost never rode more than 20 miles in a day. And then one night I got drunk with a friend...

In February 2008 my friend talked me into riding the STP--a 200 mile group ride from Seattle to Portland. Most do this ride in two days, but we were going to ride it in a day. So I bought myself a new bike and started riding more to get in shape. I finished the one-day STP later that year along with a few other organized (and some disorganized) century rides. Somewhere in the countless hours and miles I spent on my bike that spring and summer I had a bicycling epiphany. I - love - to - ride. I love riding in all weather, the longer the ride the better, up hills, down hills, on the flats, wherever... I love to ride.

In my search for new places to ride and new people to ride with, I stumbled upon the whacky sport of Randonneuring. I now ride regularly with the Seattle International Randonneurs, and am planning to ride the muthah of all Randonneuring events in the fall of 2011, the P-B-P 1200k.

I also really enjoy writing about some of the more epic rides I do. I realize that the ride reports aren't terribly interesting to anybody but me and a few other likeminded nuts. That's okay, it's really just for me. Oh yeah, and my mom.

Pre-Blog Ride Reports - June '09

Originally emailed on Mon, 15 Jun 2009 22:59:15 under the Subject: June Ride Report - Long ride, long report

I'm still not quite sure if I actually did it or if I just dreamt it, but I have memories of riding the SIR 600k brevet this weekend. The pain in my legs is telling me that it was real, so I think I'll go with that.

About 65 riders set out from Auburn at 6:00 am Saturday. I was feeling a little unsure about how you ride a 600k, I mean what sort of pace do you set when you know you need to maintain it for the next day and a half? I also wasn't sure if I should try to find a group to ride with or go it alone. But within the first ten miles, I found myself riding with a small group that consisted of a couple of guys that I had ridden with on the 300k and three others who seemed to be strong riders and nice enough guys, so I let the group set the pace. We rode along the Tacoma waterfront, over the Narrows Bridge, up the Kitsap peninsula past Gig Harbor to Waterman Point. For the first 50 miles the pace was fast but comfortable. At the first control we caught up to the one lone rider who was ahead of us, a guy named Ryan who is almost always among the first two or three to finish a brevet. He joined our group and bumped up our pace a notch putting it at something I could hang with, but just barely. um... fun.

The view forward and aft as we went through Fife. Ahead are three of the group I stayed with for the first 400k (l to r: Bryan, Matt and Dan).


Crossing the Tacoma Narrows Bridge

The next 125 miles were a bit of a blur. We rode along Hood Canal, and then headed for the coast through dried up little working class towns like Matlock, Cosmopolis and Aberdeen. We were riding into a headwind, not a severe headwind, but enough that you wouldn't want to ride it alone. Pretty early on in that stretch, we dropped one of the group (Dan). We were working as a disciplined pace line, taking 1 1/2 to 2 mile pulls each. I dreaded every time my pull came around, not because of my time out front, but because once I finished and dropped to the back it was all I could do to hang on. Being at the back of the line after a pull felt a little like how I've heard drowning described before. Drowning victims supposedly reach a point where they just let go and stop struggling, and a sense of calm comes over them. I'd be there at the back of the pack, struggling to hang on thinking how it would be so easy to just let go and slowly drift off to the bottom…

Heading toward the coast (l to r: Matt, Bryan, Dan, and Ryan hiding behind Dan)

Somehow I stayed with the group to the coast, through Westport (I don't mean to bad mouth Westport, but my God in the minimart where we stopped for water there couldn't have been more than a dozen teeth amongst the three people working there), Grayland, Tokeland until we finally turned inland and had the wind at our backs. I had been thinking that as soon as we had a tailwind, I could let the group go and ride at a less painful pace for a while. It was about that time that I got a flat tire. The group stopped and a couple of the guys helped me fix it. I had been really hurting just before the flat, but somehow getting off the bike for a few minutes to fix the flat restored me quite a bit so when we started rolling again I decided to stay with the group until the overnight control in Centralia.


About 150 miles in and still able to fake a smile.

The last 75 miles to the overnight control weren't too bad. The first half of it is a very gentle climb, but with the wind at our backs we were still moving at better than 20 mph. I was tired and everything hurt a little bit, but I was feeling surprisingly good all things considered. We got lost looking for the control that was about 20 miles out of Centralia which added about three miles and a few minutes of pointing at cue sheets and arguing, and Ryan got a flat and went through a couple tubes before he found the piece of wire stuck in his tire, but other than that it was pretty smooth sailing and we rolled into the overnight control at about 9:30pm just as it was getting dark. 400km done, only 200km to go.


My trusty steed resting at the Rainbow Falls Control 20 miles before Centralia

At the overnight control we were greeted by enthusiastic volunteers, mountains of real food, cold beer, and best of all, chairs! Four of our group had decided to make it a short stop and press on through the night to see if they could finish the ride in less than 24 hours. I entertained the idea of going with them for all of two seconds but instead opted to have a huge meal and try to get a few hours of sleep before getting back on the road. So, the two of us who were staying behind sent our riding buddies off into the night and grabbed a second plate of spaghetti.


Real Food at the overnight control!

I slept for about three hours and woke up feeling pretty rested, so I figured I might as well get back on the road. The volunteers made me a huge breakfast burrito (which I ended up regretting for the next 50 miles) and some paint stripper-like coffee. Bryan, the other guy from the group who stayed behind, was also up and ready to roll, so we headed out together a little after 2:30am.


Ready to roll at 2:30am

The first 50 miles after the overnight was mostly uphill, not steep but relentless. Strangely enough I really enjoyed the riding from 2:30 until the sun came up. It’s so peaceful with no cars on the road and the tunnel of light created by the headlights makes it easy to just focus on the task and get into a rhythm. Our route took us up back roads toward Mt. Rainier to the town of Morton. The sun was up by the time we reached Morton and we knew from that point it was another 80 miles of mostly downhill. From Morton on, Bryan and I took turns sort of running out of fuel and pulling each other along when the other guy was dragging. A big chunk of the last 80 miles follows the RAMROD route, and it’s some very scenic countryside, but by that point in the ride it was hard to appreciate it.

Bryan and I arrived at the finish in Auburn at 10:50am Sunday, 28 hours and 50 minutes after leaving. We were the second group to finish, the first being the four that we rode the first 400k with. It turns out they didn’t make the sub-24 hour finish they had been shooting for, but still finished in a phenomenal 24:35.

My cycle computer mysteriously reset itself somewhere around Enumclaw, so I don’t know what the actual total miles, riding time or average speed were, but it was something like 382 miles, and I’m thinking about 22 hours riding time.

Completing the 600k along with the 200k, 300k, and 400k makes me an official “Super Randonneur” (please say that with a French accent so it sounds like “zoo-pehr ron-duh-newwr”) according to l'Audax Club Perisien, which gives me the right to buy myself a shiney medal and brag about it to people who have never heard the word, "Randonneur." Woot!

Next up: RAMROD on July 30.

Steve

Pre-Blog Ride Reports - May '09

Originally emailed on Tue, May 19, 2009 at 11:30 PM under the Subject, May Ride Report (kinda long, sorry)

My original goal to ride a century ride in every month of 2009 has been completely subsumed by my new found obsession with the wacky sport of Randonneuring. I'm now shooting for the "Super Randonneur" designation for 2009. To be a Super Randonneur you just have to complete a series of four rides 200km, 300km, 400km and 600km in length. Each ride has to be completed within a set time limit. If you do that, you win the right to buy yourself a medal. Woo hoo! I already reported on the 200km and 300km rides in March and April. Last weekend I completed the 400km.

The 400km route started in Ephrata, about 180 miles east of Seattle. The route was to head North from Ephrata up the Methow Valley to Twisp, then over Loup Loup pass to Omak, down to Grand Coulee and then back along Banks Lake to Ephrata. I drove over to Ephrata after work Friday night, getting stuck in traffic on my way out of town. I got to the camp ground I was staying at about 10:30, so by the time I got situated it was pretty late. The ride started at 5am and I needed to ride the three miles into town to the start, so I got up at about 4am and geared up. It was a bit chilly, but I knew it was going to warm up so I dressed light and shivered on the ride into town.

About 60 of us set out from the Ephrata Travel Lodge. The first 20 miles were through rolling wheat fields and sage brush. The wheat was young, green and tender, and the sun was just coming up. The road climbed gently, gaining about 1,000' in the first 20 miles. The riders were starting to spread out, but at this point I was passing people and being passed as everyone was trying to settle into a pace that would work for 400km.

The first big challenge came about 20 miles in where the road turned to deep gravel with chunks of bigger sharp rocks. It was borderline unrideable and several riders actually got off and walked it. The gravel lasted for about 4 miles. The great thing about biking a road like that is how it makes pavement feel so wonderful when it's over. Somehow I came through without a flat and continued on on Hwy 2. Ten miles later I arrived at the first control at Farmer, a town with a grange hall, a silo, a cemetery, and apparently no living people. The ride organizers had some hot coffee there which made me very happy.

When I pulled out from Farmer, there was a group of riders about a quarter mile ahead moving pretty fast. For a minute I thought about going after them. As the gap increased, I decided to let them go since I would definitely have to burn some matches to catch them. So as the group ahead pulled off into the distance, I found myself completely alone. You can definitely travel faster as a group but there's something to be said for the peace and solitude of riding alone on lonesome roads with no cars. As it turned out, I wouldn't see any other bikers, other than way off in the distance, for the next 100 miles or so.

After Farmer the road continued to climb slowly up to McNeil Pass (which I'd never heard of before) at 3,011 feet. From McNeil pass, you get about six miles of screaming descent with grades up to 12%. It would have been easy to hit 50mph or more, but I kept it to about 45 not knowing what the turns were like.

The route then followed Hwy 97 along the Columbia River. The scenery was beautiful, but hwy 97 is a little too busy for my taste. I arrived at the control in Pateros at about 10:30. From Pateros I started up into the Methow Valley with a nice little tail wind to help me along. I pulled into the next control near Twisp at around 12:00. The organizers had sandwich makings and other snacks there. So much for "unsupported" riding. At this point I was still maintaining a pace that worked out to about 4 hours per 100k, which would get me to the finish at about 9:00pm. Ha. Folly.

Immediately after the Twisp control, the climb up Loup Loup pass starts. It never gets super steep, but after 10 miles of consistent 6% grade it gets old. It was also starting to get hot with temps in the 80s. Something about the climb and the temperature sort of messed up my 4 hr/100km pace. On the climb, I could see a group of three other riders keeping pace with me about a 1/4 mile back. These were the first other riders I had seen on the road since Farmer. The volunteer at the Twisp control told me it was about 12 miles to the summit, so the summit came 2 miles before I expected it. :) I'm sure he did that on purpose. After the summit, it's nearly 20 miles of coasting down into poor, depressing Okanogan and slightly more upscale Omak. The group of three caught me on the descent and we rode together into Omak.

From Omak the route goes through the most desolate stretch of the course. This is also where the 20 mph headwinds started. I decided to stick with the three riders that caught me on the descent. With the four of us taking turns breaking the wind, we averaged about 10 - 12 mph for the next two hours into the wind. At that point the wind started dropping off a little, and I was having some leg cramp problems, so I let the others go. It was still 20 miles to the next store and I was getting low on water, but I figured I could make it. I was really hurting on this stretch of road by myself. But just when I was about to pull over and take a nap beside the road, I came upon a "secret control!" The support volunteers had hot Cup o' Noodles and Ibuprophen which surely saved my life. Thanks guys!

After the secret control there was a brutal 8% - 10% climb for about a mile. But I was feeling so restored by the Cup o' Noodles and the vitamin I that it didn't bother me too much. And somewhere near the top, I came upon a big old full grown black bear about 20 ft off the side of the road. We stared at each other for a while and said our Hullos and I kept riding.

The desolate road finally came out on Hwy 155 near Nespelem where the route heads south, finally back in the direction of Ephrata. After an hour or so on Hwy 155, the sky and my mood started getting dark. Hwy 155 has these nasty expansion joints every 20 or so feet, so you're constantly riding along going, "bu-bump... bu-bump... bu-bump..." Eventually I pulled in to the final control in Electric City. I sat far longer than I should have at Electric City, probably a half hour at least which made getting back on the bike tough. The sun was down now so I turned on my lights, put on all the reflective gear I had and pulled on my arm warmers. I think it was about 8:30 when I left Electric City.

This is where I entered completely unexplored territory. E City was about 200 miles into the ride, and I had another 55 miles to go. This was my first time beyond 200 miles, and my first time doing some serious night riding. The next four hours were a bit of a blur. I was completely alone, not many cars, on very lonely stretches of road. I talked to myself a lot but I wasn't very interesting to talk to. Every few minutes I'd start thinking about how far I still had to go and how slowly I was moving and how easy it would be to just lay down on that nice little piece of pavement between the highway and the guardrail. And then I would tell myself, "come on, it's not that hard. All you have to do is just sit here and pedal." That became my mantra, "just sit here and pedal." Somehow 50 miles became 40, then 40 became 30... then eventually I found myself just sitting there and pedaling into Ephrata at 12:30am.

It turns out I was the 9th to finish out of the 60 who started. One group of 3 finished about 15 minutes before me and another group was 15 minutes before them. And one other solo rider finished TWO HOURS before me! The two groups ahead of me had both been together for the whole ride. So the first finisher and I were the only riders of the first nine who rode solo most of the way. The next rider behind me was nearly an hour back.

It was a very tough ride, but also incredibly beautiful with some wonderful cycling roads. The organizers did a fantastic job. I was hurting at the finish, but I had enough left in me to have a beer at the Travel Lodge and then pedal back to my campground three miles out of town.

By the way, sorry for not having pictures. I meant to bring a camera but forgot.

Some other stats:
Distance: 264.26 miles
Time: 17:56 in the saddle, 19:32 total
Climbing: 13,071
Dead rattlers on the road: 1

Pre-Blog Ride Reports - April '09

Originally emailed on Monday, April 06, 2009 10:46 PM under the Subject: April CAM09 Ride Report

My pursuit of at least one century ride in every calendar month in '09 rolls on... Saturday's SIR 300k helped me get April's ride out of the way early in the month. Four days before the ride it was snowing in Western WA, but the velo gods smiled upon us by giving us a beautiful clear day for the 300k.

About 50 entrepid Randonneurs and Randonneuses set out from the Clinton ferry dock on the south end of Whidbey Island at 7:00am. One thing about ferry docks: they're always at the bottoms of hills... But I was actually happy to start out on a hill since it was still about 32 degrees. Time to get the blood pumping. About a mile or two into the ride I caught up to a group of six other riders who were moving along pretty well, and I ended up staying with that group for the next 315 kilometers.

Our course would take us the length of Whidbey Island, up Chuckanut drive to Bellingham, then east toward Mt. Baker as far as Deming. At Deming the course headed South and stayed on Hwy 9 for something just short of eternity--which it turns out is just south of Arlington. From there we would hop on the Centennial trail to Snohommish, then back over to lovely Everett, over a big hump and back down the Mukilteo speedway to the ferry.

Here's the course: http://bikeroutetoaster.com/Course.aspx?course=40288

One thing I've learned to do on rides like this is to avoid thinking about the entire ride. Starting off up that hill out of Clinton thinking, "two miles down, only 193 to go" is a BAD idea. Breaking it into nice bite-sized chunks is the only way to survive. So, I started thinking about the beautiful views from Deception Pass and got to work.

The group I was riding with was awesome. All strong riders, they knew how to handle a pace line, fun guys to chat with, supportive if anyone was starting to drag, I couldn't have picked a better group. We had a couple others join us or drop here and there along the way, but basically the core group of six stayed together to the end. I was the only one in the group who didn't have at least a couple of seasons of Randonneuring experience, so I really appreciated how welcoming they were.

So, here's something I learned about experienced hardcore Randonneurs: These guys do not mess around with rest stops. If we stopped at a minimart for water or food it was, jump off the bike, run in and grab some water and a candy bar, get back on the bike and go. If you needed to get water AND pee, then you were going to need to do some work to catch the group again. No waiting around until everyone's ready. As soon as you're ready to go just get on the bike and start riding. Ride slow for the first couple minutes to let the group reform, then back to business. We stopped about six times in 12 hours, and five of those were forced stops because we had to get our brevet cards signed at the check point (Randonneuring = bicycling with paperwork).

I have to admit that while I'm sure the scenery was beautiful the whole way, I didn't see a lot of it on this ride. The benefits of riding in a pace line are many (drafting, encouragement, conversation, help with navigation, etc.), but one of the drawbacks is that it requires concentration to stay 12" off the wheel of the guy in front of you without killing yourself and everyone behind you. It doesn't give you a lot of time to check out the world around you. I experienced a lot of pace line riding in last year's STP and mostly hated it. But I realize now that the problem with the STP was that most of the people there don't know how to ride in a pace line. With a group of six strong riders with tons of pace line experience, it's really a thing of beauty. For about 20 miles down Hwy 9, we even ran as a double pace line, acting like we owned the whole damn road. Needless to say, some of locals trying to get by us weren't too impressed by our blue angel-like precision.

The pictures here were taken by one of the other guys in the group. I had a camera with me, but again the pace line made picture taking seem like more challenge than I was willing to take on.

Here we are gathering for the start

Early on, Bob and Mark taking the lead...

Our group taking the lane, critical mass style, as we cross over the Deception Pass bridge (I was at the back of the pack at this point trying not to worry about that semi on my ass)

Somewhere around the 150 mile mark I started hurting everywhere all at once. Back, neck, shoulders, butt, feet. Nothing horrible, but it was definitely annoying. Luckily we had to stop for a control not long after that which gave me a chance to swallow a couple Advil. That totally did the trick and I felt great for the rest of the ride.

We rolled into the finish at the Mukilteo ferry dock a little before 6, plenty of time to hang out and watch the sun set over Whidbey Island while munching on the BEST PIZZA I'VE EVER, EVER HAD IN MY LIFE (probably from Dominos or something...).

The numbers:
Distance: 195.8 miles/315 kilometers
Time:10:53 in the saddle/11:52 total
Climbing: 7,659 ft.

Pre-Blog Ride Reports - March '09

Originally emailed on On Mar 22, 2009, at 9:20 AM, under the subject, CAM09 March Ride Report: In Like a Lion, Out like a Lamb

That pretty accurately describes how I rode the SIR 200km yesterday. But I finished, which means I'm now officially a Randonneur. In case you don't know, Randonneur is a French word that basically means "crazy person." I also rode a solo century a couple weeks ago, but I'm counting the SIR 200km as my official March entry in my Century a Month bid for 2009.

The 200k started in Kent at the organizer's house at 7:00am. It was pretty amazing to see 115 other cyclists, gathering in the dark with the temperature well below freezing. But the stars and the moon were out, so the weather looked promising. Here's what the start scene looked like:



As we rolled out the sky was starting to lighten up. About 1/2 mile into the ride I had to stop at the first gas station I saw to "offload some excess baggage." This pit stop put me a few minutes behind everyone else in the pack, which turned out to be kind of nice because as I worked my way back past the other riders I was able to get a good idea of who these Randonneur types are. Ages range from 20s to some maybe in their 70s, but most are probably between 35 and 50. This crowd wears wool, rides steel bikes and sits on leather saddles. No carbon fiber and lycra for them, thank you very much.

The ride headed out to Dash point, with beautiful views of the water with the Olympics in the distance. By the first control at 20 miles I had worked my way up to about first third of the pack. We then headed inland through Kent and Auburn on our way to the next control at the Black Diamond Bakery.



Black Diamond was about 50 miles in. By this point I had hooked up with a guy named Michael who seemed to be riding about my pace, so we worked together for most of the rest of the ride, trading pulls every mile or so. Here we are pulling out of the "secret control" somewhere between Black Diamond and Enumclaw (Michael is the one with tree trunk like thighs).

The ride went through some scenic but smelly farm land on it's way to Enumclaw where we got on Hwy 410 and continued on up to Greenwater. Greenwater is a turn around point, so we were able to see that we were only about 20 minutes behind the lead riders. After getting our Brevet card stamped at the Greenwater store and gulping down a Coke (shameless product placement), we started back down the hill into a headwind.

Somewhere around the 100 mile mark Michael and I missed a turn. Michael decided to take a short cut back to the start since he knew the way. I turned around and started retracing our path to find the missed turn since I wanted to be official about riding the course. After about six "bonus miles" I got back on track and caught up to a group of five other riders who looked like they knew where they were going. The rest of the ride was uneventful and was ridden more in the traditional randonneuring style, which is to say slow.

At the finish they had plenty of cold beer and hot chili, the perfect recovery meal.

Overall it was beautiful ride and I really enjoyed the Randonneuring thang. I ended up finishing in the top twenty, and without the bonus miles I most likely would have been in the top ten (although, I think polite Randonneurs aren't supposed to talk about their finishing times).

The SIR 300K is in two weeks. Stay tuned...

Ride Stats
Distance: 135 miles (217 km)
Time: 7:47 saddle time (8:35 total)
Climbing: 6,153 ft
Road Kill: 2