Solstice - Waiting for the Eastern Glow

This past Saturday night I rode the Seattle Randonneur's Second Annual Winter Solstice Ride. Yes, I know we missed the actual solstice by three days, but for working stiffs like me doing the ride on Tuesday night would make for a rough day at work on Wednesday. Besides, from the saddle of a bike one long, cold, wet night looks much like any other.

The idea of the solstice ride is to take advantage of the longest night of the year by spending as much of it as possible on a bike. It's a 200k ride that starts at 8:30pm, so if you ride slow enough you can roll into the finish just as the sun is peaking over the eastern hills. That of course assumes the sun does any peaking at all which it rarely does around the Winter solstice in western Washington. The ride was also billed as a Festivus celebration so it included the traditional Festivus pole, airing of grievances, and feats of strength.


About 25 of my hardy randonneuring buddies showed up at the start at Peet's Coffee in Redmond. Also at the start was a documentary film maker named Dan McComb. Dan is working on a feature length documentary called Beyond Naked that follows some "ordinary" folks as they prepare to ride in the Fremont Solstice Parade naked bike ride. Somehow Dan heard about our ride and decided to incorporate it into his film. I suppose our solstice ride makes a nice compliment to the annual naked ride in Fremont because of the obvious similarities. For instance, riders in both events probably wish they had more clothes on at times, and in both events many of the people who see the riders probably think they're totally crazy or maybe just dumb. It's also possible Dan, desperate for material, just Googled "bikes and solstice" and we were the only thing that came up.

I decided to decorate my bike for the event, so I zip-tied and duct taped some battery powered christmas lights to the frame and the wheels. Though it's hard to make out the lights, here she is anxious to roll outside Peet's at the start.


The lights were a big hit, especially once we got away from street lights of the city though the high-speed wobble that comes from duct-taping battery packs to the rims is a little spooky on the high-speed descents. A weight weenie I am not.


The route was a big loop that went from Redmond up to North Bend, then through Issaquah, Maple Valley, Renton and up around the north end of Lake Washington back to Redmond. It was about 38 degrees at the start and the moon and stars were out which was a bad sign. Clear skys mean cold and ice.

Sure enough as soon as we came over Novelty Hill into the Snoqualmie Valley, the temperature dropped and the roads turned very icy. I had ridden the first part of the ride with some of the "fast boys", but at that point they all decided that while the idea of an all night ride sounded neat in theory, it wasn't worth risking a broken hip or dislocted shoulder for. So the fast boys all turned around and rode home. I decided to press on, so I slowed down and waited for some other riders to catch up. At least if I crashed and broke my hip there would be someone there to call 911. Not long after I was joined by a group of familiar faces including Greg Cox, Mark Van de Camp, Warb Beebe, Bill Dussler and Michael (whose last name I've forgotten).

As we started to climb up out of the valley toward Snoqualmie Falls the wind picked up and the temperature with it. We traded icy roads for vicious head winds which, all things considered, seemed like a reasonable trade. With tempertures back into the upper 30s the riding was almost comfortable for the next few hours.

By far the nicest part of the ride for me was from Fall City to Issaquah on the Issaquah Fall City Rd. The wind had died down and it was warm enough to keep the roads wet instead of icy. Dan and his film crew (of one) drove along and filmed our little group as we rode the winding ups and downs. It sort of made us feel like we were something special.

Halfway through the ride we stopped at a minimart for a bite to eat. It was 1:30am and the ride was going pretty well, considering. But as we pulled out the rain started to fall and within a few minutes it turned to snow. As we rode up May Valley road we were soaked by big fat snowflakes mixed with sleet and rain. Lovely stuff.

The snow and sleet continued for about an hour and a half as we continued on down to Maple Valley where Joe Platzner had kindly parked his RV and was serving up hot cup of noodles, coffee and other snacks. Dan and his film crew were there too and they filmed us gobbling down noodles. Dan asked me some questions about why we do what we do and I gave completely incoherent answers which I'm going to blame on the time (about 3:30am), the cold (about 35 degrees) and on my IQ (low 70s). Hopefully none of that interview makes it past the editing process.

Another shot of my bike in the dark:


From Maple Valley on, the ride was uneventful and pleasant. There wasn't a lot of talking as we were all ready to get to the end and get out of the cold. Led Zeppelin's Battle of Evermore was playing in my head ("Oh well, the night is long, the beads of time pass slow/Tired eyes on the sunrise, waiting for the eastern glow"). We timed it right as the sun was indeed starting to show itself as we rolled into the parking lot at Peet's Coffee. I think it was around 7:00am when we finished.

As with all good randonneuring events, the painful memories of cold, rain, snow, wrong turns and endless hills had almost completely evaporated as I loaded my bike into the car for the drive home. Thanks to Joe P for throwing a heck of a Festivus party!

Bring it!

Crappy photos courtesy of my crappy cell phone.

Seattle got it's first good winter blast this week and as usual it brought the city to a standstill (If Canada would just keep it's weather to itself we wouldn't have these problems). Anyway, I'm usually pretty wimpy when it comes to bicycling on snow and ice so I rode the bus to work on Monday when I saw snow in the forecast. And snow it did. The commute home Monday night was a mess. I got on a bus in the bus tunnel around 5:00, and by 6:00 the bus was only about two blocks past the end of the bus tunnel and going nowhere. From there I took matters into my own hands and got off the bus and started walking. It was really quite a fun adventure to walk home in the midst of a blizzard, passing hundreds of cars doing little more than idling and sliding. It took me about an hour and a half to walk the six miles from downtown Seattle to Ravenna where Sarah came and picked me up about a quarter mile from home. I'm pretty sure I beat the bus.

While I was walking, I saw three or four cyclists go by. They seemed to be getting along reasonably well in the snow. The only thing about it that looked a little scary was all of the two-ton four-wheeled hockey pucks sliding around on the road around them.

But mostly I was inspired. I worked from home on Tuesday, but by Wednesday morning with a bit of cabin fever starting to settle in and the snow still on the ground, I decided to give biking to work in the snow a try.


The roads in our neighborhood were hard-packed with some icy patches. The main arterials had been plowed and had some pavement showing through, but mostly I stay off of the main arterials on my route to work. It definitely wasn't my fastest ride to work. It usually takes me about 35 minutes each way, but today it took nearly an hour.


My bike probably doesn't have the ideal setup for riding in the snow with standard 28mm road tires. Still, it was much easier than I had expected. I did a little bit of squirreling around on some of the icy patches, but managed to keep the shiny side off the road for the whole trip. I have to admit, I had more fun riding in to work this morning than I've had in a long time. I mean, I'm not ready to move to Minnesota or anything, but… well… bring it on!

There's hardcore and then there's hardcore

Last Sunday was Halloween so I decided to dress up as a Randonneur and go for a ride. This was a special ride for a number of reasons:

1. This was my twelfth consecutive month with an official rando ride of 200km or more thus earning my first R-12 award.
2. It was the first real ride on my new bike, a Velo Orange Randonneur.
3. It was Halloween. duh.
4. It didn't rain even though it was late October. Well, it didn't rain much.
5. Near the end of the ride I rode through the drunken procession to a Sounder's game at Quest stadium... on Halloween!! (The only thing more entertaining than a bunch of drunk Sounder's fans in full green game regalia, is a bunch of drunk Sounder's fans in Halloween day full green game regalia.)
6. And if the Sounder's fan's weren't enough, I finished the ride on the top of Queen Anne where thousands of miniature Power Rangers, Princesses, Sponge Bobs, Wonder Women, Cowboys, Storm Troopers and Mermaids were parading down Queen Anne Ave and harassing the local merchants for free candy.

I really couldn't have asked for a better ride to put a fork in 12 months of Randonneuring.

The route started and ended on the top of Queen Anne. It headed North up to Edmonds, then over to Woodinville, Snohomish, Monroe, South through the Snoqualamie river valley to Fall City, on around the south end of lake Washington, and finally through downtown Seattle and back to the top of Queen Anne.

A nice Raleigh Superbe at the ferry terminal in Edmonds

I really enjoyed this entire route. It was a great mix of urban and quiet country roads. It had a bit of suburbs too which I'm never fond of, but you just can't get from the city to the country without going through the 'burbs.

The weather was pretty fantastic all day too. Cool, mostly clear, a few sprinkles but I never really got wet.

My new 'neuse taking a break near Carnation

Ah, and the new bike seems to be working out very well. It rides like a Cadillac, very smooth and steady. It's not a bike to win a Criterium on, but it loves to gobble up the miles. Even though I haven't been riding a lot lately, I felt good at the end of the fairly hilly 200km and I attribute that to the ride quality of this bike. It also doesn't hurt that it's a couple pounds lighter than the old Cross Check.

This sort of reminded me of that Rembrandt painting with all the guys standing around looking at a cadaver.

As I came through the Mt Baker/I-90 tunnel heading for Queen Anne and the end of the ride, I came upon a bike polo game underway in Judkins Park. Some people think I'm hardcore because of the long rides I do. Pffffft! These guys playing bike polo? They are hardcore! I was humbled watching what they could do on a bike.

Semi hardcore - Bike polo in Judkins Park.

Anyway, overall it was another perfect day on a bike. And I even made it home in plenty of time to head out trick-or-treating with Adam. Wait... did I say the bike polo guys are hardcore? Maybe, but Adam trick-or-treating is as hardcore as it gets.

Mountain Loop Highway 200k

Early last week as I was riding my usual route in to work, I ran into one of my fellow Seattle randonneurs, Gary Prince. We rolled through the downtown traffic talking about upcoming rides and the fact that neither of us really had the time to drive all the way up to Bellingham for this weekend's scheduled 400k brevet. I had been thinking of doing a 200k permanent closer to home and Gary liked the sounds of that so we made plans to do the Mountain Loop Highway permanent on Saturday.

I've wanted to do the Mountain Loop Highway permanent for quite a while. I was intrigued by 14 miles of unpaved and seldom traveled road. Somehow the lack of pavement translated to adventure in my mind; not exactly exploring-the-upper-Amazon adventure, but still something more interesting than just another lap around Lake Washington.

So I picked Gary up early Saturday morning and we drove up to Snohomish for the start of our little adventure. The route starts in downtown Snohomish and heads up the Centennial trail for a bit until it jumps off and follows bucolic backroads to Arlington. From Arlington the route heads east on highway 530 to Darrington, then turns right and follows the Mountain Loop Highway over Barlow pass and on down to Granite Falls. Some more back roads from Granite Falls get you back to Snohomish, but not before doing a few odd twists and turns to make sure you don't miss any of steep hills along the way. The 14 miles leading up to Barlow Pass are all unpaved and make the gradual climb a little more challenging.

We parked in front of the antique store where I eyed the selection of cowboy boots, contemplating whether I was properly outfitted for our little adventure. Gary was hoping to hit the bakery across the street before we got started, but they weren't open yet so we opted for stale donuts at the 7-11 and had a nice chat with the guy working there before taking off just after 7 AM.

The first 25 miles to Arlington were about as pleasant as a ride can be. The temperature was upper 50s and the scattered clouds were getting more scattered by the minute. I mentioned the bucolic back roads, right?



We took our time at the first control in Arlington and sat down with a cup of coffee and my second donut of the day (chocolate old-fashioned this time). Gary made some comments about the way I eat on Rando rides. Ok, generally I'm a pretty healthy eater, but for some reason when I'm on a long ride good nutrition and all that great food culture stuff that Michael Pollan writes about get tossed out like some wilted organic lettuce that's been hiding out for too long in the crisper drawer. For me, ride food is not really food, it's fuel. My body doesn't seem to be too picky about fuel. It has simple needs. Sugar for energy. Salt to replace the lost electrolytes. Fat... um, because it tastes good.

So, after a nice leisurely breakfast stop we headed east on highway 530 toward Darrington. This stretch of highway isn't bad, but it's the busiest road on the route. Cars and trucks whiz by pretty consistently at 50 mph and keep you focused on that fog line.



In Darrington, again we took some time to sit and relax and enjoy a bite too eat, this time I had a relatively healthy sandwich. Apparently Gary had made me self-conscious about my eating habits.



As soon as we left Darrington the road became much quieter and started tilting upward ever so slightly. A few more miles out of town the pavement ends. The road has a pot hole here and there and some washboard and loose gravel now and then, but for the most part it's pretty pleasant riding.



We stopped at a nice view point for wardrobe changes and other important business. The scenery was gorgeous, but of course I chose to take a picture of my bike instead. That's my converted single speed Bianchi Volpe. The climbing as we approached Barlow pass never got so steep that I regretted having only one gear.



In 14 miles of road leading up to the pass there are about 200' of pavement if you count the two bridges along the way.

After Barlow Pass, the highway heads slightly downhill for 30 miles on wonderful smooth pavement. Don't get me wrong, I really enjoyed the unpaved section, but after an hour of bumping along in the dirt, pavement feels like you're riding on a pool table.



Since we had already blown any chances for a speedy time by enjoying leisurely stops at the first two controls, we figured we may as well see the sights on this second half of the ride. First we stopped at the Big 4 picnic area to soak in the tourist thing. We had a nice chat with an old Italian guy there who seemed to know a thing or two about bikes. He asked if we had ever heard of "Campagnolo". Yep, we had both heard of the brand before.

We stopped again not long after Big 4 at the Verlot Ranger station to refill water bottles (for those of you planning to do this ride, make sure you fill up a couple of bottles in Darrington as it's the last chance for water until Verlot, 43 miles down the road). At the ranger station a guy approached us and asked if we were riding a permanent. This isn't the kind of question a normal person would ask. Then we noticed he was wearing a Cascade 1200 T-shirt from a few years ago. Nope, definitely not a normal person. His name was Dave Johnson and he said he used to ride the ML Highway back before it was a permanent. Apparently he's not riding much with SIR these days since neither Gary nor I knew him, but obviously he's spent a few hours on a bike in the past.

As we continued on toward Granite Falls, we passed a 70s (?) Rolls Royce Silver Shadow going the other direction. Apparently this would be a day for rare sitings, Randonneurs, British luxury cars... later we saw a cocky coyote trotting down the road looking like perhaps he had just eaten someone's cat.

In the final few kilometers of the route it does some odd twists and turns for no apparent purpose other than to send you up a hill that climbs a couple hundred feet in less than a half mile, the last part being probably a 10% - 12% grade. Gary grumbled about the hill being "completely gratuitous" and I shifted into my granny gear (i.e. I got off and walked). I'm pretty sure the course designer was just thinking it was a funny joke. But, the payoff was a screaming fast descent down into Snohomish which put a nice cherry on top of what was already a beauty of a ride.

Back at the Bakery in Snohomish ice cream seemed like just the thing. "This is about one hour of cycling" said Gary as he held up his generous scoop. Indeed, this is a big part of why I ride. Two donuts, two sandwiches, two bananas, two Starbucks Frappuccinos, a cookie and an ice cream cone, and it wasn't even dinner time yet.

Cascade 1200 Ride Report

I’m going to start with the end because it was by far the most memorable part of the ride for me, maybe just due to recency effect, but quite possibly because there was magic afoot.

After having covered about 760 miles in the past four days, Kelly Smith and I pulled in to the McDonalds in Granite Falls. The rain had started falling about 20 minutes before we got there and we were starting to get wet. This was the penultimate control stop on the Cascade 1200. I mentioned to Kelly that I hadn’t eaten at McDonalds in several years since I swore off corporate fast food after reading Fast Food Nation. But after a couple of minutes within Mickie D’s the smell of french fries had worked it’s way into my soul and I was ready to set aside my anti fast-food oath for one special occasion. Filet O’ Fish and fries have never tasted so good.

While we were enjoying our meal, Joe Platzner pulled in looking a little tired but in good spirits. We had been riding with Joe an hour or so back but he decided to drop off to ride a slightly slower pace for a while. We decided to wait for Joe so the three of us could ride the last 20 miles into the finish in Monroe together. Joe wolfed his food, and with the brief rain shower all drizzled out we set off into the approaching dusk. The route from Granite Falls to Monroe follows rolling, winding quiet roads through a typical Snohomish county rural setting with a mix of cows, horses, llamas, BMW SUVs and pickup trucks.

We were taking this last stretch at what Randonneurs call a “social” pace. As we rode, we talked about rides we’ve done in the past, people we’ve ridden with, bikes, and even a few non-biking topics. Kelly is from Virginia and came out just for the Cascade 1200. As we rode and talked, Kelly and Joe found that they knew people in common and had ridden in some of the same places since Joe had spent some time living back east.

We were about five miles from the finish and any doubts about finishing the ride had completely vanished when something odd occurred to me. We were riding in the dark now, and our headlights lit up rectangular patches of the road ahead of us. The odd awareness I had was that nothing on my body hurt. I mean, if I really focused on it, everything was hurting a little, but there was no specific pain gnawing away at me like it had been for the past three or four days. Nothing from my butt, my hands, my feet, my back or neck, not even my legs. Not only was nothing hurting, but I didn’t have any of that typical dark randonneuring mind stuff going on that usually goes on at this point in a ride, either focusing on some source of pain, or worrying about falling asleep on the bike, or constantly checking the mileage that seems to be frozen in time or moving at a geologic pace.

I mentioned to Joe that I wasn’t hurting anywhere and he looked at me with wide eyes and said, “you know, I’m not hurting anywhere either! Isn’t that weird?” We had been struggling through pain, fatigue, hunger, hypothermia (for Joe), headwinds, plenty of doubt, and a few mechanical issues for the entire day, but suddenly we were just three guys on a really pleasant bike ride, just a few short miles away from the end of the ride. Joe and I were both nearly giddy with the realization that we felt so good after so many miles.

I’m not sure whether it was endorphins or magic or what, but I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed 20 miles on a bike more than I enjoyed those 20 miles from Granite Falls to the finish of the Cascade 1200 in Monroe with Joe and Kelly.

Okay, so I guess I should go back to the beginning of story…

Day 1 – Monroe to Naches.

Saturday morning at 6:00am 94 riders set off from Monroe for the 2010 Cascade 1200. Riders had come from all over North America, and there were several from Europe and a couple from Japan. Apparently the Cascade 1200 has achieved near legendary status among Randonneurs. I had no idea when I signed up.

For the first several miles as we wound through the Snoqualamie Valley, the entire group stayed together as one massive peloton traveling at a very casual pace. On most brevets, everyone splits up almost immediately as the fast riders race off the front and the slower riders settle into their own pace. I made a point to drift to the very back of the peloton just so I could take in the whole thing. It was fantastic to see the mob of cyclists, two, three, sometimes four abreast extending a couple hundred yards up the road.

The hill up to Ames Lake finally split the peloton up and at that point I started working my way back up through the pack. I rode alone for much of the morning, passing people I knew and chatting briefly, but not settling in to any pace lines at first.

The route went on through Issaquah, Enumclaw and along the west side of Mt. Rainier through towns like Buckley and Elbe. The weather was cool and overcast and the riding was easy. I hung with Gary Prinz for a while, a fellow Seattle Rando who I sometimes see on my commute to and from work.

At Morton, the route turns east, first parallel to Hwy 12 on quiet roads, then on the busy highway. The wind had picked up and was blowing our direction, so the trip east on Hwy 12 was a fast and easy one. From Packwood the road tilts up toward White Pass, about 4,500 ft of elevation and 20 miles from Packwood. The last time I had been on White Pass was coming the other direction on the second day of the Four Passes 600k three weeks before. That day we were worried about hypothermia as we flew down the pass in the pouring rain with temperatures in the low 40s. This time it was a very different story. The sun had come out and it was starting to get a little warm on the climb. But for the most part I found the climb up White Pass to be much easier than I expected, and before I knew it I was bombing down the eastern slope heading for the control at Clear Lake.

At Clear Lake SiR volunteers made us sandwiches and I was very happy to sit for a bit. I left the control with a guy from Vancouver, WA named Michael who I had played leap-frog with on the climb up to the pass. Michael pushed hard and I did my best to keep up with him as we flew downhill with a strong tailwind (the stuff of dreams) for the last 35 miles into Naches. When they signed our cards at Naches Middle School, it was exactly 21:00 (9:00pm). I had logged a little over 225 miles for the day at an average rolling speed of about 16.5mph.

The volunteers at the overnight control in Naches treated us like kings and queens, though we were kings and queens who had to be content with cold showers and sleeping on wrestling mats on the gymnasium floor. With the aches and pains from a 225 mile day and the chorus of snores from dozens of tired Randonneurs, I didn’t manage to do more than doze off and on for a few minutes at a time. It seemed like a long night from when I lay down at 10:30 until I got up at 4:00am.

Day 2 – Naches to Quincy.

After a breakfast of pancakes, eggs and sausage, I rolled out at about 5:00am. The wind that had blown us into Naches the night before was still blowing, which was now a bit of problem. The first leg of the day 2 route was an out-and-back up to Lodgepole Campground near Chinook Pass. This meant we were heading into the wind for the first 45 miles. I’ve done the ride up Hwy 410 to Chinook Pass before, but the last time was in the middle of the night and it was after a very difficult night and day of riding without any rest. This time I was feeling strong and moving along pretty well. At first I was riding with Michael and I was pulling and passing a few other riders as we went. I had thought it was just Michael behind me, but when I pulled off to the side to drift back and let Michael pull for a while I found that a pace line of about 15 riders had formed behind us.

We made great time up to Lodgepole, getting there a little after 8:00. After getting our cards signed and hanging out for a while we started back down the way we had come. At this point I was still riding with Michael, but we had also picked up Kelly Smith. The three of us rode together well and we continued back to Naches to finish the first 90 miles of the day.

From Naches the route followed a bike path through Yakima until we got on Hwy 24 heading east. Hwy 24 is pretty busy with fast moving semis blasting by constantly, not the most pleasant riding conditions. At this point I was riding in a pace line of seven or eight riders. The pace seemed to by inching upward and was getting to the point where I had to work pretty hard to keep up. The old me would have stayed with this group thinking, “this is killing me but at least I’m making good time.” The new me is a slightly wiser randonneur, so the new me dropped off the back of the pack and decided to go it alone at a more reasonable pace. Kelly was going through the same thought process as me and he dropped off a couple of minutes later.

Together Kelly and I rode the remaining 100 miles or so for the day. From the time we let that fast group go until we pulled into the overnight control in Quincy, I don’t think we saw more than a dozen trees. It was hot, there was no shade anywhere and we were riding roads that continued on in a straight line for miles until they just disappeared over the horizon. There’s something about being able to see the next two hours of riding laid out in front of you in a long straight ribbon of asphalt that puts me in that dark rando place really fast.

By the time we pulled into the Vernita rest stop just south of the Columbia River, I was ready to be done with this day. Unfortunately we still had another 60 miles or so of hot desolate headwinds ahead of us.

As we arrived at the control stop in Mattawa, Michael, my riding partner from the previous evening was already there and talking about dropping out of the ride. Michael broke his collarbone a couple of years ago and he was finding that the old injury was giving him some problems. He seemed to have no strength left in his left shoulder. As he rode he was unable to hold himself up and he was nearly collapsing on the bike. It was sad to see him struggling with this decision, but clearly he didn’t have much of a choice.

The last 10 miles from George to Quincy was especially brutal. Even though the mileage was less than the first day, and there was less climbing, by the time we rolled into Quincy I had decided that the second day was much tougher than the first for me.

We covered 210 miles on the second day and we rolled into the control at Quincy at 20:57. Since I had arrived at the previous overnight control at exactly 21:00, I decided to wait a couple minutes so once again my card would be marked 21:00 exactly. It seemed like that would have to bring me some sort of luck, good or bad.

The overnight at Quincy was at the High School. Luckily the showers were warm this time and I was able to lie down on a gymnastics tumbling mat that was a little cushier than the wrestling mats from the prior night. Still, it wasn’t the best night of sleep I’ve ever had.

Day 3 – Quincy to Mazama.

With another good breakfast in our stomachs provided by the wonderful volunteers at the overnight control, Kelly and I got on the road at about 5:20 am. The days route started winding through cherry orchards on a beautiful quiet road with almost no traffic. I was definitely feeling the effects of two long days on the bike and not much sleep, but Kelly is full of interesting stories and facts, so the conversation eclipsed most of the aches and pain I was feeling.

After the orchards, the route turned north through Ephrata and Soap Lake and then through the Grand Coulee to Dry Falls. This has to be one of the most fascinating geological features in Washington state. It was created during the last ice age when glacial floods from Lake Missoula flowed through central Washington several times. It created a 400ft deep canyon but with no remaining river flowing through it.

From Dry Falls we climbed up out of the coulee on highway 2 to rolling wheat fields. On this climb, I barely missed a three foot rattle snake who was sunning himself on the side of the road. As slow as I was moving at that point, it would have been pretty easy for him to bite me if he had had a mind to.

Before turning north on SR-172, we were treated to a great control stop at the “town” of Farmer. I put town in quotes because there don’t appear to be any living people in Farmer. There’s a nice old grange hall (outfitted with two craps tables and not much else), two grain silos across the street, and a cemetery. That’s it. The ride organizers had rented out the grange hall and had sandwiches, watermelon and cold drinks inside. It was nice to sit down out of the sun as shade was very dear in this part of the state.

Thirty miles out of Farmer we were treated to probably the most fun descent of the entire ride as we dropped from the Columbia plateau down to the level of the Columbia River at Bridgeport. About eight miles at near 40 mph! Gotta love it. But what goes down must ride back up and the next 30 miles had us climbing back up to the next control at Malott which marked the beginning of the climb over Loup Loup pass.

The climb up to Loup Loup pass was long and hot and pretty steep. But having done this mountain pass climbing a few times, I’m getting pretty good at just finding a rhythm I can live with, zoning out, and grinding up the hill. It had cooled considerably by the time we reached the pass. The trip down the west side was a little slower than I had hoped with a headwind to fight. That was probably a good thing since apparently this stretch of road sees more than its share of deer collisions. I saw two dead deer on the side of the road on the way down.

Once on the other side of Loup Loup, we just had 35 more miles up through the Methow Valley to the overnight control in Mazama. Unfortunately wind karma was continuing to pay us back for 100 miles of tailwinds on the first day.

We decided to stop at a grocery store in Twisp to refill water bottles. I walked into the store alone while Kelly waited outside with the bikes. The store was pretty busy with normal folks picking up something for their evening meal, and as soon as I stepped into to the bustling store I went totally tharn. Something about the past two days of seeing few people, trees or buildings, and the lack of sleep, and the fatigue of many hours on the bike hit me like a ton of bricks. I probably stood there with my mouth hanging open for a couple minutes before I got my wits about me and remembered why I was in the store.

Later as we rolled through Winthrop, I looked at the time and realized that with 14 miles to Mazama, we could keep my perfect streak of signing into overnight controls at 9:00pm alive if we could just maintain 15 mph. Cool! (little things become amusing after days on a bike) Kelly and I had picked up Noel Howe at the store in Twisp, so I told the two of them about my mission and we started pushing hard toward Mazama. About that time, the headwind also decided to redouble its efforts to teach us humility. Our speed dropped from 17 mph to 15, then to 14, and eventually we were crawling along at 12 mph. I was ready to give up on the mission, but Kelly wanted to keep pushing, and Noel selflessly offered to give us one more good strong pull before he dropped off to let us finish alone. In spite of Kelly and Noel’s valiant efforts, it finally became obvious that we weren’t going to make it to Mazama by 9:00. When I handed my card to the SiR volunteer she looked at her watch and wrote “21:04”. I thought about offering her a bribe to get four minutes taken off my time, but it didn’t seem like that would be in the spirit of Randonneuring.

The overnight control at Mazama was at a very nice little resort where we had real rooms with beds and most of the comforts of home, although sharing a bed with a fellow Randonneur is not something I have to do at home. My computer showed 182 miles for the day and 8,800 feet of climbing. My average speed was telling the story of three long days in the saddle. My rolling average was just under 14 mph for the day.

Day 4 – Mazama to Monroe.

I actually got some good sleep for once, probably five hours or so, and woke up at 4:30am feeling pretty good considering… Which is to say, I still felt like I had been hit by a truck. We had a good breakfast served by the resort staff, and spent way too much time procrastinating before finally heading out at about 6:10am.

Immediately we started a gradual climb up the North Cascades highway toward Washington Pass. At about three miles from the pass you can clearly see the highway do a big switchback and climb another 1,000 ft or so to the pass. The road is about 7% grade here, so I was climbing at a banana slug's pace of about 6 mph. That gave me about 30 minutes of staring up at the road ahead and thinking I’d never get there. But sure enough I was getting there, until about 10 minutes from the pass my front tire went soft, one of those slow leaking flats, and I had to pull off the road to fix the flat and spend even more time staring at “the pass that would never arrive.” But as often seems to happen in Randonneuring, if you keep turning the cranks eventually you seem to get where you’re going. I got to the top of Washington Pass around 8:30am.

For the past few weeks I had been thinking that if I could just make it to Washington Pass, then the ride was as good as done. From there it’s almost all downhill. Well, actually there’s about 2,500 ft of climbing between the pass and Monroe, but for some reason that seemed very insignificant. Oh yeah, and there were another 145 miles of road between Washington Pass and Monroe. Nonetheless, at Washington Pass I was totally reveling in the “the rides basically in the bag” vibe.

Kelly had pulled ahead of me on the climb to Washington Pass, and with my flat tire I figured there were perhaps several miles between us now. So I started down the west side of the pass looking forward to the screaming descent. But the screaming descent never came. The wind was continuing to blow out of the west and seemed to have increased considerably on the west side of the mountains. What should have been 20 miles of coasting ended up being 20 miles of having to pedal to maintain 15 – 17 mph which would be slowish on flat ground. It was also quite cold. The temperature at the pass was somewhere in the mid 40s, and with the wind blowing, the windchill factor worked out to be somewhere between damn cold and colder than a welldigger’s ass (incidentally, there’s a peak near Steven’s Pass named Welldigger’s Ass, seriously).

After a few miles of fighting cold headwinds, I came upon Joe Platzner and Kelly on the side of the road. Joe had stopped because he was getting too cold and Kelly had stopped to make sure Joe was okay. Joe was eating everything he could hoping it would warm him up, and it seemed to be working. So after a few minutes he was feeling much better and we all took off again. I pulled ahead on some steep descents over the next few miles and left Kelly and Joe behind. I kept moving thinking I would wait for them at the store in Newhalem. By the time I got to Newhalem it was really becoming a struggle to stay awake on the bike. Apparently 6 – 7 hours of sleep in the past three nights wasn’t quite enough. So I had a couple of Starbuck’s Mocha frappuccino at the store and waited for the caffeine to kick in. I was there about 20 minutes before Kelly and Joe showed up. Apparently Joe had become hypothermic and ended up holing up in an outhouse for a while to get out of the wind so he could warm up. Nice trick.

From Newhalem on, Joe, Kelly and I mostly stuck together except for a short stretch that I mentioned earlier leading up to Granite Falls. For some of the long stretches between Marblemount and Granite Falls, I continued to fight the sleepies. When we stopped at a grocery store in Oso, Kelly went in and I stretched out on a wooden bench out front. I immediately fell asleep and was deep in dreamland when Kelly came out a couple minutes later.

As I’m sure you already gathered from the beginning of this story, we eventually rolled into Monroe to finish the Cascade 1200. We got there at 22:05 (with the 21:00 streak blown on the previous evening, the pressure was off), 88 hours and 5 minutes after the start. I rode 165 miles on the fourth day at a rolling average crawl of 13.25 mph.

The Cascade 1200 was an amazing experience and it definitely pushed the limits of what I thought I was capable of on a bike. Kelly Smith was a great companion for the last three days and deserves a big thank you for keeping me moving when everything in my body was saying, "no, no, no." Joe Platzner also deserves a huge thanks for keeping me entertained and laughing for much of the hardest part of the ride for me.

I also want to send a million thank yous to the many volunteers who helped make the Cascade 1200 a first class event. I couldn’t begin to name them all, but every one of them helped me along the way some small or large way.

And I also want to compliment all of the riders. What an amazing group of people. I met only a small fraction, but I was impressed and inspired by every one I met. There were some truly exceptional athletes on this ride and I felt honored to be among them.

Sorry about the lack of pictures. Sarah took the camera with her to Michigan so I was camera-less for this ride. You can find some pictures taken by others and lots of other ride reports here.

Countdown to the Cascade 1240

I'm now down to counting the hours until the start of the Cascade 1240. This Saturday at 6:00am about 80 of us Rando-whackos will set off on a 1240 km tour of Washington. The riders will come from all over North America with a few from Europe and even a couple from Japan. We'll have 93 hours to finish the ride. Seeing as how I've never done a ride longer than 600 km, I have no idea which levels of hell (or heaven) I'm likely to visit along the way.

I've been trying my best to guess at how fast I'll be riding the various sections so I can figure out how much time I'll get for sleeping each night, if any. I think I'll probably average about 15 - 16 hours a day on the bike. If I don't lolly-gag too much at rest stops along the way, that should give me an opportunity to get a decent amount of sleep each night. But there's no telling how fast I'll be moving when my legs turn to clay somewhere during day 2 or 3.

In case you're wondering, 1240 kms translates to about 770 miles. That's pretty close to four times the length of the STP route but with 15 times the climbing. Below you can see the route broken into four sections by day.

Day one - Monroe to Naches - 223 miles.

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Day 2 - Naches to Quincy (with a side trip up Chinook Pass) - 214 miles

View Larger Map

Day 3 - Quincy to Mazama - 180 miles

View Larger Map

Day 4 - Mazama to Monroe - 162 miles

View Larger Map

I've been going back and forth between really excited about this ride, and scared shitless. But the bottom line is that events like this are what got me into Randonneuring. For some sick reason I love heading off on a ride not knowing whether or not I have what it takes to finish it. There's so much to be learned from success and even more to be learned failure. Still, I'm hoping for success. Wish me well.

SIR Four Passes 600k

While life has been getting in the way of blogging lately, I haven't completely let the daily chaos keep me from squeezing in a long ride now and then. For instance, on June 5th and 6th I rode the SiR Four Passes 600k. This is a ride I've heard about and wanted to do for a while. In the typical SiR fashion, the route meandered through some of the most gorgeous parts of the state, on both the west and east sides of the mountains. Also in the typical SiR fashion the route did it's best to avoid any flat easy riding. Most of the time we were riding either up or down a mountain pass.

The ride started in Issaquah and headed up and over the Sammamish plateau on it's way to Sultan. From Sultan we headed east on Highway 2 toward our first big climb up Stevens Pass. From the start until the part where Hwy 2 starts tipping skyward, I rode with a fast group consisting of Brian Ohlemeier, Kole Kantner, Erik Andersen and Allan deCamp. We made great time, and I really enjoy riding with all of these guys. But before this ride had even started I had decided I was going to do this one at my own pace. I wanted to find out if it's possible to do a long tough ride like this without a lot of suffering. So, somewhere around Index, I dropped off the back of the group and found a nice comfortable pace for the long grind up Stevens pass.



For a few short but precious miles the route left noisy Hwy 2 to travel the old Cascade Highway that parallels Hwy 2. The old road is an amazing little stretch of bicycling paradise with no cars and beautiful glimpses of waterfalls. I rode this stretch alone and took my time, smelling the roses along the way. Far too soon, the route dumped me back on Hwy 2 with semis whizzing by.

I was taking my time climbing up Stevens Pass because my stomach was mighty angry. Generally I can get away with eating just about anything, but the mini-mart jalapeno cheddar object that I ate back in Skykomish had crossed a line. At this point in the ride the only people who were ahead of me were the four I had been with at the start, but with my stomach problems I had to slow down so that a couple other riders passed me on the way up the pass.



By the time I got to the summit, my stomach was starting to feel better so I was able to enjoy the trip down the east side of Stevens. It wasn't as fast of a descent as I had hoped for due to a bit of a headwind. I got passed by a couple more riders on the way down in to Leavenworth and spent a little while riding and chatting with Charlie White who I had ridden with briefly on the 400k last month.



Charlie and I pulled into Leavenworth around lunch time to find several other riders at the Subway, wolfing down calories, smearing on sunscreen and getting ready for the next climb up Blewett pass. I took a few minutes to enjoy a sit down lunch, actually sitting at a table rather than on the sidewalk for once.



I headed out from Leavenworth alone and actually looking forward to the climb up Blewett Pass. The weather was beautiful if not bordering on too hot. But as the elevation increased, the temperature decreased and in general it was perfect cycling weather. The climb up Blewett Pass never really gets very steep but it goes on for long time. So I settled into a pleasant pace and just kept grinding away until I reached the summit at around 3:00 pm. Robin Pieper was manning a secret control at the summit and had some of the usual salty and sweet rando snacks not to mention some much needed water.

The ride down Blewett was a fun one, though again a headwind kept the speed down some. The route headed south on Hwy 97 toward Ellensburg. Somewhere along this stretch I joined up with Vincent Muoneke and Geoff Swarts for a few miles. Together we enjoyed the scenery and the rhythm of the ride. Eventually Vincent, Geoff and I caught up to Matt Newlin, Mark Roehrig and Wayne Methner, and the six of us rolled into Ellensberg together looking for some dinner.



After Ellensburg, the route headed south on Canyon road along the ?? river. The sun was beginning to get low in the sky and the bugs were out in force. I consumed enough bugs on that stretch of road to save me a few shot blocks. I rode most of the Canyon road stretch with Matt and Wayne, and eventually we joined up with Mark again and the four of us stuck together all the way through Selah and on up Hwy 12 to the overnight control near Rimrock lake. We rolled in to the overnight just before midnight. There we found wonderful volunteers bearing hot soup and other goodies, and better yet, hot showers and warm beds. We also a few other randonneurs looking very ragged, but happy to be done for the day.



I got up around 5:00am the next morning after a few hours of tossing and turning and unfortunately very little real sleep. As exhausted as I was, the aches and pains that come from 250 miles and two and a half mountain passes made sleep elusive. After some pancakes, I was on the road with Wayne, Matt, and Charlie just before 6:00. Overnight, the weather had definitely taken an ugly turn and it was now raining pretty hard. At the top of White Pass the temperature was in the low 40s and the rain wasn't letting up at all. We all put on all the clothes we had for the screaming cold run down the west side of white pass.



By the time we got to the turn off to Hwy 123 Wayne was so cold he was shaking uncontrollably and was having a hard time controlling his bike. Luckily a couple of SiR volunteers had a control set up with a propane heater and hot drinks. Without them there, we could have been in serious trouble. I was cold, but no where near as cold has Wayne and a couple other riders I saw arriving while we were there.

From the control the route started the climb up to Cayuse Pass. I was happy to be climbing again so I could get warm, but my legs were feeling pretty darn useless by this point in the ride. But somehow I was able to keep turning the cranks up the the summit of Cayuse.



The group I had been with split up on the way up Cayuse, and since it was very cold at the top I didn't stop to wait for them. I wanted to carry some of that warmth generated on the climb with me on the chilly descent. The descent down Cayuse toward Enumclaw was a fun wild ride that went on for a long time. The last time I did this descent was on last year's mountain 600k. That time it was in the middle of the night, my lights were too dim, I hurt everywhere and I was going on two nights with virtually no sleep. This time I felt terrific in comparison and was really able to enjoy the trip down.

I stopped for a quick sandwich in Greenwater and chatted with one of the local boys about the ride. He asked where I started, where I had been and where I was going. When I told him about the route he asked why I didn't just drive it. He had a point.

The rest of the ride from Greenwater was on familiar roads and I was really starting to feel the miles. Every brevet has its stretch where time stands still, and on this ride the temporal distortion was somewhere between Enumclaw and Issaquah (the 'claw and the 'quah).

One feature of this brevet that was either extremely annoying or extremely charming (I still haven't decided) was that it ended with a little victory lap around lake Sammamish. After arriving in Issaquah, about a mile from the finish, you had to do a counter clockwise loop around the lake. I like a bike ride around Lake Sammamish as much as the next guy, but when it comes after about 350 miles it takes on a different flavor. But I did my obligatory victory lap and pulled into the finish at Brad Tilden's house. It was 34 hours and 47 minutes since I had left Brad's house the previous morning. Brad's wife served up a great plate of pasta and tolerated my incoherent ramblings and sweaty wool smells.

So I stuck with my plan to ride at my own pace and really enjoyed the ride as a result. But I also learned that suffering is pretty unavoidable on a 600k ride.

SIR Spring 400k

It seems to me that in the Super Randonneur series of brevets (200k, 300k, 400k, and 600k) the biggest step up in difficulty is from the 300k to the 400k. I'm not sure why exactly. Maybe it's because the 400k is the first distance which requires some night riding for all but the very fastest riders. Or maybe because it's the longest distance most Randonneurs do without a sleep stop. It may be because there's just something magical about 400 kilometers (249 miles) and what it does to your body. Whatever it is, I've now experienced it twice and there's no doubt in my mind that the step from 300k to 400k is like going from walking around the block to running a marathon.

On Saturday SiR held their 2010 Spring series 400k. The course was flat by SiR standards with about 7,000 ft of climbing in the entire route. The weather forecast was excellent, with no rain expected and temps in the 50s and 60s, winds would be light. This is the kind of route and forecast that gets a lot of Randonneurs thinking about setting a personal best time for a 400k.


Leaving Seattle behind on the 6:00am ferry

The ride started in Bremerton at 7:00am, so the 6:00am ferry from Seattle was loaded with dozens of bikes and eager randonneurs. On the way over, a lot of people were talking about the fact that the last ferry from Bremerton to Seattle would be at 11:40pm. If you miss that one, you have to wait until 6:20 the next morning. This fact tossed a little more fuel on the fast ride fire. If you finish the ride in about 16 1/2 hours, you can make that last ferry. If not, you share a hotel room with a half dozen other smelly randonneurs in conditions slightly better than a slave ship. 16 1/2 hours for a 400k is pretty darn fast. But... for quite a few, with good weather and a flat course, it's within reach.


Bikes on the ferry

We congregated at the Starbucks in Bremerton as Joe Llona gave the traditional pre-ride pep talk, and then we headed out a few minutes after 7:00. The route would take us out to the coast at Westport, then south to Raymond via 105, and then back North through rolling hills along 101. It followed back roads up to Potlatch state park on Hood Canal and then back to Bremerton.

Since a lot of people were trying to make good time, the name of the game at the start was to find the right group to ride with. On a long flat ride like this one, traveling with a group is much easier than going it alone. Of course, if you find a group that's too slow you'll miss the ferry, and if you find one that's too fast, you end up getting spit out the back in the middle of nowhere, completely cooked and forced to limp in the rest of the way alone. I chose the latter option.


Struggling to stay on the freight train

A few miles out of Bremerton I settled into a long pace line including Mike McHale and several other big strong oxes. On a course that doesn't have much climbing the big guys are always fast. Allen deCamp was also in this pace line. Allen is a strong rider, but like me is built more for the hills than this flat freight train riding. I think we both knew we were going to get worked.


Allen over my shoulder

As the group worked it's way out toward the coast through Shelton, Montesano, Cosmopolis, I was doing all I could to just stay at the back of the line. One of the golden rules of long distance cycling is to avoid letting your heart rate get into "the red zone." Too much time in the red zone and you're cooked. Recovery takes a long time. As we were approaching Westport, I kept falling off the back of the line and then sprinting like mad to catch up again. Every one of those sprints was bringing me closer to the inevitable crash and burn. Finally about two miles from Westport, I fell off the back and decided to let them go. By this point, it was already too late. I was completely cooked. The paceline had been doing better than 20 mph into a head wind. Now on my own, I could barely manage 15 mph. The group was out of sight within a couple of minutes.


This is what I look like when I'm completely cooked

After sitting for a few minutes in Westport and having a sandwich and some other salt delivery mechanisms, I headed off down the coast toward Raymond by myself. With the change in direction, the winds had become favorable. Still even with a tailwind, I was so wrung out that I could barely do 17mph. The paceline I was with before must have been doing 25 mph through this section. But I was happy to be traveling my own comfortable pace.


I took this lovely picture of the guardrail to prove I made it to the coast

Somewhere on the stretch between Westport and Raymond, Michael Gray, Mark Roerhig, and Peter Rankin caught up with me. I rode with them for a while, but quickly realized that I was still too spent to do anything but ride my own pitiful pace, so I dropped off the back once again.


I rode with Michael, Mark and Peter briefly on the way to Raymond

Then a couple miles outside of Raymond I came upon Allen de Camp beside the road with a flat tire. Allen was in the same condition I had been in about an hour back. He had hung on to the Mike McHale freight train for a while longer than I had managed, but also eventually got chewed up and spit out the back. I figured Allen would be the perfect riding partner since at this point neither of us had any loftier goal than to just finish the ride. Allen and I pedaled together at a pitiful pace into Raymond.

At the convenience store in Raymond we saw Michael, Mark, and Peter just about to head out, and then a few minutes later as we were about ready to get back on the road, another group pulled in made up of Bob Brudvik, Robin Pieper, Jan Acuff, Erik Anderson and Rick (?). We chatted briefly and then Allen and I got on the road figuring the group would catch up to us soon enough.

From Raymond we headed North on hwy 101 up and down hills that all looked exactly the same. It was like ground hog day. Climb for twenty minutes, descend down the back side for a couple minutes, repeat. On about the fourth or fifth hill, the group that we saw back in Raymond caught up to us. Neither Allen nor I were completely recovered yet but we decided to join the group so we could get through the rest of the ride a bit faster. At first it felt like a repeat of the too fast freight train from earlier in the day, but eventually we got our legs back and started enjoying the group thang again.


The group I finished with, near Elma

After Elma, the route headed North on a beautiful back road with gentle rollers which was definitely my favorite part of the ride. With very little traffic, we got into a double paceline and chatted and peddle at a comfortable but still fairly quick pace. The sun was getting low in the sky and the light was beautiful. The highlight of this part of the ride for me was riding by the maximum security prison near Shelton. I've never seen so much razor wire in my life. Not that I've ever really considered a life of crime, but that place is enough to keep you living right. As we rejoined 101 again, it was getting dusky so we turned on lights and rode the last couple miles up to Potlatch State Park on Hood Canal.

Joe Llona was at Potlatch with his son and a nice spread of typical Rando food. A cup of noodles was exactly what I needed and Joe had it. The group relaxed and kicked back for a few minutes as we did the math on what we had remaining. We were about 39 miles from the end, and it was a little after 8:00pm. All we had to do was ride 15 mph to make it back to Bremerton with plenty of time to catch the 11:40 ferry. So we rolled out as the last light was fading away with little pressure and a few easy miles remaining.

The last part of the ride was fun. I love riding in the dark. Somehow the aches and pains of a long ride seem to diminish once the sun sets. Again we were in a double pace line and traffic was light. We chatted and dreamt about greasy, salty meals as the final miles ticked by.


Queuing up for the last ferry back to Seattle

We pulled into the finish at the hotel in Bremerton a little before 11:00pm. We had plenty of time for some pizza and a beer before getting on the 11:40 ferry. I think several of us set personal best times for a 400k on that ride. More importantly, I did some good learning on how hard I can push myself before it all falls apart. And I also learned that I can push myself over the edge, and if I take some time, eat some food, get some fluids in me, I can even recover enough to finish the ride. Yep, another good day on the bike.

"The Alps"

For the month of April I wasn't able to do any of the organized SiR rides, so to keep my R-12 going I decided to ride a permanent. I picked the toughest route I could find since one of my new year's resolutions was to spend less time on the bike, but to make it count when I do ride. As far as I know, the toughest 200k permanent is #517, The Alps (sort of a presumptuous name for ride the goes through towns like Auburn and Hobart). It packs 10,000 feet of climbing into 200 km, without ever going over 1200 feet above sea level. The route starts in Redmond and meanders around South King County, hitting every good climb it can find. It's a little like a bad action film with a bunch of chases and fights and shoot outs, but not much of a plot to string them together.

My aim was to start at 7:00am at the Whole Foods in Redmond. I got there a bit late so didn't get on the road until about 10 after. A minute or so after getting on the road I realized one of my brakes was rubbing, so I had to stop and adjust it a bit. So, a couple blocks into the ride and it was already 7:15.

The ride follows the west side of Lake Sammamish to Eastgate, climbs up to the top of Summerset, then heads down toward Issaquah, and climbs up Cougar Mtn on "Zoo Hill."


Route Map

In my brief Randonneuring history I've heard many stories about other Randonneurs struggling to make the control cutoff times. Apparently I was just dealt a pretty good genetic hand when it comes to cycling, because it's never been a concern for me at all. I've never even really had to think about it. So it was a bit of a shock on this ride when I was approaching the second control near the top of Zoo Hill and realized I was going to be pretty close to the control cutoff. The combination of the late start, stopping to adjust the brakes, two big climbs already, a couple of minor navigational mistakes, and the control being only a few miles into the ride so I hadn't had much of a chance to build up a buffer all meant I was starting up zoo hill with 30 minutes to make the second control. I assumed the control was at the top of the climb, and the climb up Zoo Hill usually takes me about 20 minutes. But since this was the second of 10 big climbs on a 200k ride, I wasn't heading up the hill as fast as I usually do. If I kept my conservative pace, I realized I'd probably make the top of the hill about three to five minutes before the cutoff. But what if I got a flat tire? What if there was road construction up ahead that held me up for a few minutes? I'd be cutting it very close. For the first time in my Rando career, I was actually worried about making a cutoff. I decided to resist the temptation to pick up the pace, and just hope for the best.

Did I mention that the navigation part of Randonneuring is not one of my greatest strengths? So it turns out that the control is actually only about 2/3rds of the way up the climb, so I got there with several minutes to spare. But still it was by far the closest I've ever been to the cutoff. And you know, it was actually kind of fun having that pressure for a few minutes. Not sure I want to always ride with that kind of pressure, but a little bit of it is fun.

From Cougar Mtn the route continues south toward Auburn, climbing every hill it can find along the way. The Alps is one of those routes that makes you a slave to the route sheet. You rarely ride more than a mile or two without making a turn, and the turns aren't all that obvious. If you aren't paying close attention to your route sheet, you'll get lost for sure. Navigation has never been my strong suit in Randonneuring even on the simpler routes.

And to make matters worse, while studying the route sheet somewhere south of Cougar Mtn I realized that when I printed it, any of the cues that had instructions with more than one line got cut off. All I could see was the bottom line. So an instruction like, "Turn right to stay on 196th. DO NOT continue straight onto Sweeney Rd." Showed on my cue sheet as simply, "straight onto Sweeney Rd." "Hmm, this could cause problems," I thought. Sure enough, I missed a turn or two but figured it out fairly quickly just because I was familiar with some of the roads and knew where I was headed more or less. But eventually I found myself hopelessly off course with no clear idea of where I went wrong or how to get back on course. I scratched my helmet for a couple minutes and then decided to use a life line. I called Sarah and asked for help.

At first I spent a lot of time whining and complaining to her about how lame I was for printing the route sheet without noticing the formatting problem. Then we spent a few minutes trying to figure out where I was. Then she tried to figure out a route to get me to where I needed to be, but that got far too complicated, so I decided I just need to backtrack about four miles to where I went off course. Throughout this conversation I kept thinking this route sheet mess was too complicated and I should just bail on the ride (DNF??). Then she found a copy of the route sheet on my computer and read me all of the instructions that got cut off on my version. I took notes and scribbled all over my copy. All of this took over a half hour or more, and once again I started worrying about whether I would be able to make the next control on time. Luckily I had built up a decent time buffer so it looked like, assuming I could get back on course AND I didn't get lost again, I should be able to make the next control with 15 - 20 minutes to spare.

Well, I did make it to the Green Valley Meat and Minimart with plenty of time to spare. (Note to self: Need to go back there sometime in a car. It's a strange and fascinating store.) After the Meat and Minimart, I had nearly 10 miles of flat riding trough the Green River Valley that gave me a good time buffer for the rest of the ride. I didn't have to worry about cutoff times from there on out.


Elevation Profile

The rest of the ride was far less eventful. I stayed on course and rode up and down hills and just kept turning the cranks. I saw some good riding roads that I had never been on before, like Issaquah - Fall City Rd (the old part after it leaves suburbia), and climbed some great hills I've never climbed before, like Lake Alice Rd with a fairly long stretch of >15% grade.

I was good and tired by the time I finally rolled back into the Whole Foods parking lot in Redmond. The ride took me 11 hours 18 minutes which is by far the longest I've ever taken to finish a 200k. But I figure if I could subtract about an hour for the late start, getting lost, and whining on the phone to Sarah I'd end up with a respectable time.

The Alps is a really nice route, but I definitely am no fan of routes that have cue sheets that are longer than my arm. I'll have to ride it again, now that I know the route, so I can just enjoy the ride and look away from my cue sheet once in a while.