This morning, the shortest day of the year, it was dark, lonesome, and freezing cold at about 34F. On such days I did what we usually do when it feels like the nose is about to snap off and fingers are without feeling ... I headed straight up Page Mill.
Unlike most days, Page Mill did not get warmer as I gained elevation. Frost was sparkling in the grassy fields beneath the oak trees all the way up to Montebello Ridge, and even the road was frosty most of the way up.
I was rewarded with one of the most beautiful sunrises of the year as I approached Gate 4. Bright red and orange with surprisingly sharp and vivid azure sky mixed in. I wished I had my camera along, but alas, I have no record and you would have had to be there and suffered with me to appreciate its magnificence. I clocked in at Gate 4 37:30 mins after leaving downtown Los Altos (1:20 behind my fastest time), which felt like a good way to finish what may be my last ride of the year ... unless inspiration hits again next week.
I reached Montebello ridge after 49:30 mins, and chatted a bit with another lonely rider I caught up to on the way up from Gate 4. Then a cautious decent on a sparkling road froze my face into a mask, which still has some remaining traces after a hot shower, coffee, and an hour at work.
Hope to see you sorry denizens of the Cornichon team out there next time. Keep in mind that you now can ride 4 days a week in the most excellent company of David and I. Both of us ride Tuesdays and Fridays, David on Wednesdays and I venture out on Thursdays to accommodate extra long distance swims on Wednesdays (did 3*150 + 600 + 500 + 200 last Wedn). Should you feel like a swim, join me in the slow lane on Wednesdays.
Have a happy new year and a joyful holiday!
--- Rune
Friday, December 21, 2007
Thursday, December 13, 2007
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
One is the Lonliest Pickle
So Rune and I have decided to start seeing other weekdays. Rune is currently experimenting with Thursday, while I'm still on Wednesday. You can catch me down at the coffee bar, trying to look cool with my polyester shirt and tight pants.
This morning I rode up to the Christmas Tree farm -- an excellent ride, wet, but not cold, and not foggy (except for my glasses). The moon was slim and high in the sky, and the eastern hills just glowing a bit when I got to the top.
Its kind of a bummer, because I really feel far from my peak performance: At a comfortable pace, I got to gate 4 in about 54 minutes, which is a ways from my all-time best of 47. As far as distance, except for my long rides in Norway and Portugal, I don't think I've ridden farther than 22 miles since the beginning of August. Hopefully this isn't the beginning of some kind of Thompson-like burnout. Next thing you know, I'll be moving to Coeur'd Alene.
On the other hand, I'm out there and having a great ride, so I guess it doesn't matter that much. If anyone knows a sensitive and open rider looking for long sunrise climbs, non-smoker, must like Peet's, please send them my way.
(of course RD and I are still kickin' it on Tuesdays and Fridays)
This morning I rode up to the Christmas Tree farm -- an excellent ride, wet, but not cold, and not foggy (except for my glasses). The moon was slim and high in the sky, and the eastern hills just glowing a bit when I got to the top.
Its kind of a bummer, because I really feel far from my peak performance: At a comfortable pace, I got to gate 4 in about 54 minutes, which is a ways from my all-time best of 47. As far as distance, except for my long rides in Norway and Portugal, I don't think I've ridden farther than 22 miles since the beginning of August. Hopefully this isn't the beginning of some kind of Thompson-like burnout. Next thing you know, I'll be moving to Coeur'd Alene.
On the other hand, I'm out there and having a great ride, so I guess it doesn't matter that much. If anyone knows a sensitive and open rider looking for long sunrise climbs, non-smoker, must like Peet's, please send them my way.
(of course RD and I are still kickin' it on Tuesdays and Fridays)
Monday, December 3, 2007
Sour Pickle Looking for a Sweet Ride
It's starting to feel like time to train up for the next year of knee injuries. As you know, at our household, all weekends are scheduled up to 6 months in advance. I already know that I can't attend the Death Ride, for example.
There are a few rides that will appear on my schedule though, such as:
Solvang Century, March 8th.
TUC, May 10th.
Rides from last year that were fun:
Tierra Bella, April 19th
Sequoia, June 1st
Shasta Century, August 1st
Death Ride, July 12th
I am not sure how it'll all come out this year, but I've promised myself to share the pain and encourage Leo to join me. The most likely outcome is that I'll be riding 50 mile/metric century distances, though I just can't see missing out on all those hills in the TUC.
Speaking of the TUC, we've already made our reservations in Fortuna. This year, we're riding the week before Humboldt State's graduation, so it should be much easier to get a room in town, and they aren't jacking up their prices like last year.
-- Dr P.
There are a few rides that will appear on my schedule though, such as:
Solvang Century, March 8th.
TUC, May 10th.
Rides from last year that were fun:
Tierra Bella, April 19th
Sequoia, June 1st
Shasta Century, August 1st
Death Ride, July 12th
I am not sure how it'll all come out this year, but I've promised myself to share the pain and encourage Leo to join me. The most likely outcome is that I'll be riding 50 mile/metric century distances, though I just can't see missing out on all those hills in the TUC.
Speaking of the TUC, we've already made our reservations in Fortuna. This year, we're riding the week before Humboldt State's graduation, so it should be much easier to get a room in town, and they aren't jacking up their prices like last year.
-- Dr P.
Saturday, October 27, 2007
Cornichon of the Mountain (COM)
Just back from 10 days in Portugal (including two 24-hour travel days!).
A very interesting country, with lots of fascinating things in it, including bicycles. I brought plenty of gear for riding, but I wasn't on the ball about renting a bike, so I ended up with only a two-day rental. On the second day, my butt hurt enough that I only did a little riding. :(
The setting: I stayed in the eastern side of the Algarve region, in Tavira. This is a coastal town that predates the Roman occupation. The whole area is quite touristy, though in the past, it has had a lot of industry in fishing, almonds, olives, and honey. The agriculture never really made it out of the medieval age, even now, so its all pretty rustic and decrepit. Off the coast, high mountains (say 1000m?) rise up, and 50-60 km into the interior, you end up with higher plateau country. I'd compare it to the California foothills, except that the land is absolutely cursed with rocks. Every field is surrounded by a rock wall, and it isn't because its pretty.
The websites I'd read suggested that mountain biking is the only pleasurable sport, as the narrow country lanes made it too scary to ride on the roads. After a few days, I realized that this was an overstatement: as long as one is on the lesser roads (still fine quality), the traffic was very light. This could easily be due to it being the off-season, though. I also got the sense that this area is really hot in the summer, and had just cooled down recently (mid-October). The temperature was about 70F, and it rained nicely early the morning after my one long ride.
I got it together to rent a bike on Saturday, but the rental agency I'd picked was closed, and then closed again on Sunday. Finally on Monday (closed again), I stumbled across another choice, and got a bike. I rented a mountain bike for 10euros/day. I could have gotten a road bike, but they only had double chain-ring bikes, and I was planning on doing some hill climbing. After that, I warmed up by riding the bike around town, which was great fun: going up and down hills, on cobblestones, and so forth. Just like Oslo, drivers are very tolerant of bikers, and its easy to meander around without feeling like you are going to be smooshed. I got a bike lock from the rental store, but I noticed that nobody locks their bike up. Of hundreds of bikes, I probably only saw one or two that were actually locked when not in use. Not like Oslo! Anyhow, if I'd gotten a bike with a front basket, I could have stopped at the market and gotten a salmon or an octopus or something and ridden around with it. Oh well.
The day's plan was to ride to the town of Cachopo, which is directly inland (north) of Tavira, by 37K. We hadn't been there yet, but it sounded like there might be some stuff to see there, and it was into the hills, and not a major destination. The start of the road was a few miles of cobblestones leading along the Galt river.
I'll just get it out here, so I don't have to repeat myself. The entire ride was super-mega euro-rural scenic, like a postcard or something. All the houses in Portugal (I shit you not) are painted white, with red tile roofs. There are rock walls everywhere, in various states from new and held together with mortar to ancient, stacked and crumbling. Every bit of arable land, from near the ocean to high in the mountains, will have a rock wall around it, and a half-dozen ancient almond or olive trees. There were also orchards of tiny orange or lemon trees. A new trend inland seemed to be planting forests of pine trees. I wasn't sure if this was for pine nuts, or reforestation, but there were lots. At random intervals were clusters of bee hives for honey. Not a lot of sheep, but some. Some horses; I don't recall any cows. The biggest incongruity was that the road I was on (built in the 1960's or 70's?) was lined with eucalyptus trees. Progress, I guess. The big thing missing for me was that I always like to see old rusty trucks in fields, but in this country, they were probably exclusively using donkeys until about 1990 or so.
The ride was awesome. I made a few mistakes, like not stuffing a loaf of bread, a sausage, and a wheel of cheese into my backpack (I did bring plenty of water). I also didn't wear my padded shorts (d'oh!), though I did wear my Fall River Century jersey. After riding about 30 minutes up the river, the road started to climb. and it went up forever, until the ocean was lost in the haze. Almost all the way up to the first ridge, I stopped at a little market/restaurant, where I was able to procure a bottle of chocolate milk and a Snickers bar. Riding the mountain bike was reasonably comfortable, but those bikes sure don't roll downhill fast! Coming down the other side, I had to pedal some. I was hoping that Cachopo was at the bottom of the hill, but of course, no such luck, and I found myself climbing again. I'd started at about 11am, and by now it was something like 1pm, and pretty hot out. One benefit from being out between 1 and 3pm is that everyone is eating and napping, so there was almost no car traffic -- not that there was much the rest of the time.
Something funny along the way was that there were three or four sets of milestones that had been placed in different eras. One set appeared to be in miles, so it was smaller numbers that didn't change much, and then there were at least two sets of kilometer stones that were measuring from different starting points. Thus, I would have the encouraging sensation of no progress, when I'd pass a "5", then a "5", and then, a "5". :)
At the top of the second hill, I rolled down a little bit, and finally arrived at Cachopo. I think it was around 3pm. I have a pretty strong feeling I didn't do this part quite right: I rolled through the back of the town, down a narrow street, and didn't see any place to stop, so then I rode through what I thought was the main part of town (the other ten houses). I saw a few dark restaurants -- no outdoor seating, no tourists. The only customers looked like wrinkled old men. I didn't feel like trying to speak Portuguese and figuring out how to get food, and so forth, so I just turned around and went back. In retrospect, I think I may not have gone all the way into town, and there might have been a more tourist-friendly spot just around the corner. At any rate, having arrived, I promptly left.
The return journey had less climbing, but my legs were tired, and I really should have eaten more food. Near the top of the big return climb, I stopped at a little shop where a little old lady was selling her honey. I picked up a kilo of honey, and drank a Coke, and sat there, panting, for about ten minutes. We tried to talk, but neither English nor Spanish is anything at all like Portuguese, so we didn't get far. The Coke got me the rest of the way home. Coming down the last long hill was fun, though my rear was quite sore by this time.
Finally, at the bottom of the major hill, I had to ride a few miles of flat along the river valley, then over a short steep hill, and back to the house my parents had rented. I rolled in at 6pm -- a seven hour journey! Based on leg tiredness, I guess that the whole trip was about 6,000 feet of climbing (it was 75km). Jeff, Dena and I went out for dinner than night, and I only frightened everyone one time by jumping to my feet will an immense leg cramp.
The next day, it rained in the morning, and we drove to another town to do some tourism. In the afternoon, I rode my bike down to Tavira (a few km from our house), and spend a couple of hours riding the narrow streets and seeing the sights. It was a blast, but my butt was still sore, and that detracted from the enjoyment). Riding a bike is really the best way to see these small towns, because its easy to hop off, and check out a store, and easy to go down narrow alleys and such, where you might not feel like taking a car. Way more fun than walking too.
In conclusion, I'd definitely say that southern Portugal is great for road biking. If I were ever to do it again, I'd probably try to plan 75K rides that ended in towns where I could stay the night (and have someone bring my stuff from the previous hotel). In this exact area, I'd probably ride up the Guardia river, which is roughly the border between Portugal and Spain. It's a bigger river, there's a road right along it, and the towns appear to have more tourist facilities. You want a town that at least has patio dining as a tourist option! The weather was favorable, though possibly unseasonable -- I'd consider late September or early October, but it could be really hot there! I'd also arrange a bicycle in advance, so that I could be sure of its quality and fit, and bring my own shoes and pedals.
What fun! I would love to do this as a group some year.
David
A very interesting country, with lots of fascinating things in it, including bicycles. I brought plenty of gear for riding, but I wasn't on the ball about renting a bike, so I ended up with only a two-day rental. On the second day, my butt hurt enough that I only did a little riding. :(
The setting: I stayed in the eastern side of the Algarve region, in Tavira. This is a coastal town that predates the Roman occupation. The whole area is quite touristy, though in the past, it has had a lot of industry in fishing, almonds, olives, and honey. The agriculture never really made it out of the medieval age, even now, so its all pretty rustic and decrepit. Off the coast, high mountains (say 1000m?) rise up, and 50-60 km into the interior, you end up with higher plateau country. I'd compare it to the California foothills, except that the land is absolutely cursed with rocks. Every field is surrounded by a rock wall, and it isn't because its pretty.
The websites I'd read suggested that mountain biking is the only pleasurable sport, as the narrow country lanes made it too scary to ride on the roads. After a few days, I realized that this was an overstatement: as long as one is on the lesser roads (still fine quality), the traffic was very light. This could easily be due to it being the off-season, though. I also got the sense that this area is really hot in the summer, and had just cooled down recently (mid-October). The temperature was about 70F, and it rained nicely early the morning after my one long ride.
I got it together to rent a bike on Saturday, but the rental agency I'd picked was closed, and then closed again on Sunday. Finally on Monday (closed again), I stumbled across another choice, and got a bike. I rented a mountain bike for 10euros/day. I could have gotten a road bike, but they only had double chain-ring bikes, and I was planning on doing some hill climbing. After that, I warmed up by riding the bike around town, which was great fun: going up and down hills, on cobblestones, and so forth. Just like Oslo, drivers are very tolerant of bikers, and its easy to meander around without feeling like you are going to be smooshed. I got a bike lock from the rental store, but I noticed that nobody locks their bike up. Of hundreds of bikes, I probably only saw one or two that were actually locked when not in use. Not like Oslo! Anyhow, if I'd gotten a bike with a front basket, I could have stopped at the market and gotten a salmon or an octopus or something and ridden around with it. Oh well.
The day's plan was to ride to the town of Cachopo, which is directly inland (north) of Tavira, by 37K. We hadn't been there yet, but it sounded like there might be some stuff to see there, and it was into the hills, and not a major destination. The start of the road was a few miles of cobblestones leading along the Galt river.
I'll just get it out here, so I don't have to repeat myself. The entire ride was super-mega euro-rural scenic, like a postcard or something. All the houses in Portugal (I shit you not) are painted white, with red tile roofs. There are rock walls everywhere, in various states from new and held together with mortar to ancient, stacked and crumbling. Every bit of arable land, from near the ocean to high in the mountains, will have a rock wall around it, and a half-dozen ancient almond or olive trees. There were also orchards of tiny orange or lemon trees. A new trend inland seemed to be planting forests of pine trees. I wasn't sure if this was for pine nuts, or reforestation, but there were lots. At random intervals were clusters of bee hives for honey. Not a lot of sheep, but some. Some horses; I don't recall any cows. The biggest incongruity was that the road I was on (built in the 1960's or 70's?) was lined with eucalyptus trees. Progress, I guess. The big thing missing for me was that I always like to see old rusty trucks in fields, but in this country, they were probably exclusively using donkeys until about 1990 or so.
The ride was awesome. I made a few mistakes, like not stuffing a loaf of bread, a sausage, and a wheel of cheese into my backpack (I did bring plenty of water). I also didn't wear my padded shorts (d'oh!), though I did wear my Fall River Century jersey. After riding about 30 minutes up the river, the road started to climb. and it went up forever, until the ocean was lost in the haze. Almost all the way up to the first ridge, I stopped at a little market/restaurant, where I was able to procure a bottle of chocolate milk and a Snickers bar. Riding the mountain bike was reasonably comfortable, but those bikes sure don't roll downhill fast! Coming down the other side, I had to pedal some. I was hoping that Cachopo was at the bottom of the hill, but of course, no such luck, and I found myself climbing again. I'd started at about 11am, and by now it was something like 1pm, and pretty hot out. One benefit from being out between 1 and 3pm is that everyone is eating and napping, so there was almost no car traffic -- not that there was much the rest of the time.
Something funny along the way was that there were three or four sets of milestones that had been placed in different eras. One set appeared to be in miles, so it was smaller numbers that didn't change much, and then there were at least two sets of kilometer stones that were measuring from different starting points. Thus, I would have the encouraging sensation of no progress, when I'd pass a "5", then a "5", and then, a "5". :)
At the top of the second hill, I rolled down a little bit, and finally arrived at Cachopo. I think it was around 3pm. I have a pretty strong feeling I didn't do this part quite right: I rolled through the back of the town, down a narrow street, and didn't see any place to stop, so then I rode through what I thought was the main part of town (the other ten houses). I saw a few dark restaurants -- no outdoor seating, no tourists. The only customers looked like wrinkled old men. I didn't feel like trying to speak Portuguese and figuring out how to get food, and so forth, so I just turned around and went back. In retrospect, I think I may not have gone all the way into town, and there might have been a more tourist-friendly spot just around the corner. At any rate, having arrived, I promptly left.
The return journey had less climbing, but my legs were tired, and I really should have eaten more food. Near the top of the big return climb, I stopped at a little shop where a little old lady was selling her honey. I picked up a kilo of honey, and drank a Coke, and sat there, panting, for about ten minutes. We tried to talk, but neither English nor Spanish is anything at all like Portuguese, so we didn't get far. The Coke got me the rest of the way home. Coming down the last long hill was fun, though my rear was quite sore by this time.
Finally, at the bottom of the major hill, I had to ride a few miles of flat along the river valley, then over a short steep hill, and back to the house my parents had rented. I rolled in at 6pm -- a seven hour journey! Based on leg tiredness, I guess that the whole trip was about 6,000 feet of climbing (it was 75km). Jeff, Dena and I went out for dinner than night, and I only frightened everyone one time by jumping to my feet will an immense leg cramp.
The next day, it rained in the morning, and we drove to another town to do some tourism. In the afternoon, I rode my bike down to Tavira (a few km from our house), and spend a couple of hours riding the narrow streets and seeing the sights. It was a blast, but my butt was still sore, and that detracted from the enjoyment). Riding a bike is really the best way to see these small towns, because its easy to hop off, and check out a store, and easy to go down narrow alleys and such, where you might not feel like taking a car. Way more fun than walking too.
In conclusion, I'd definitely say that southern Portugal is great for road biking. If I were ever to do it again, I'd probably try to plan 75K rides that ended in towns where I could stay the night (and have someone bring my stuff from the previous hotel). In this exact area, I'd probably ride up the Guardia river, which is roughly the border between Portugal and Spain. It's a bigger river, there's a road right along it, and the towns appear to have more tourist facilities. You want a town that at least has patio dining as a tourist option! The weather was favorable, though possibly unseasonable -- I'd consider late September or early October, but it could be really hot there! I'd also arrange a bicycle in advance, so that I could be sure of its quality and fit, and bring my own shoes and pedals.
What fun! I would love to do this as a group some year.
David
Tuesday, October 2, 2007
Page Mill in the fall
I meant to send an email out last Wednesday, after I took a beautiful ride up to Monte Bello ridge in the morning. It was overcast and dim, with few cars. Very quiet and different feeling -- the first overcast morning of the season. One of those really great Page Mill mornings.
This morning, it was clear, dark and cold (57F). It seemed like there were a lot of cars on Page Mill. There was a buck with lots of pointy horns who crossed Page Mill just in front of me at Phil's spot. Besides him, there were a few other deer who were looking for Phil.
I made it up to MBR in 1:03, which is far from Rune's record, but is pretty close to my personal goal of one hour.
October is a big slacker month for me, as Julia is traveling (thus I am tending chillun' in the morning), then when she gets back, I'll be off to Portugal. Hopefully, I'll be mountain biker dude while I'm there. We'll see...
In other news, Patrick appears to have recovered from his crash. At least no beer came out of any holes when he was celebrating his birthday this past Saturday night.
Hope everyone is well, and getting ready for Halloween.
David
This morning, it was clear, dark and cold (57F). It seemed like there were a lot of cars on Page Mill. There was a buck with lots of pointy horns who crossed Page Mill just in front of me at Phil's spot. Besides him, there were a few other deer who were looking for Phil.
I made it up to MBR in 1:03, which is far from Rune's record, but is pretty close to my personal goal of one hour.
October is a big slacker month for me, as Julia is traveling (thus I am tending chillun' in the morning), then when she gets back, I'll be off to Portugal. Hopefully, I'll be mountain biker dude while I'm there. We'll see...
In other news, Patrick appears to have recovered from his crash. At least no beer came out of any holes when he was celebrating his birthday this past Saturday night.
Hope everyone is well, and getting ready for Halloween.
David
Sunday, August 19, 2007
Sorry Jarl Even, but I got your bike dirty
First, let me describe Oslo from a bicycle perspective. It's a beautiful little city (1/2 million people), and most everyone here takes a tram, rides a bike or walks around. There are plenty of cars, but, really, the car traffic is fairly light, except on the most major roads into town. Many commuters subscribe to a service, where you walk up to an automated stand and pick up a "city bike", then you ride it wherever, and drop it off at another stand somewhere else. It seems like a great system for letting people ride bikes, without having to deal with all of the parked bikes locked to poles and fences everywhere (which they have, too). Anyhow, the cars and buses interact very well with the bikes, and it's all very casual and loose how people get around. The worst thing is the number of wheel-less bikes, where some junkie has stolen the wheels from a locked bike. That always makes me feel sad.
One of my colleagues here, Jarl Even, has loaned me his nice mountain bike for the week. I first rode it on Friday, up the hill to the top of Oslo, along the river that comes from Maridalsvannet, the big lake that is Oslo's drinking water supply. It was about a 50 minute out-and-back, and mostly it took so long because I was trying to follow a path along the river -- once I gave up on that, it went pretty fast.
Saturday, I went mountain-biking into the forest just outside Oslo. It took about 30 minutes to ride up the hill and along the lake, then you are in a hilly, forested area. There is a huge area with fire-road like trails that are used by mountain bikers. Not really all that different from what we have in Los Altos -- in concept, at least. I think this is where Rune took Sharlene on their death-ski trip one winter.
I was equipped with a map from Jarl Even, and I rode a big loop. Inside the forest, there are these groups of huts, which are more used in the winter, as ski hotels. There was one on a lake, and the name was something like canoe-hut, and it looks like you can rent canoes, and paddle around on the (rather large) lake. The second set of buildings I got to was open for the summer, and I could smell fresh baking bread from outside. I filled up my water bottle, but didn't get anything to eat, as it was before lunch, and I figured I could get to the next one within a couple of hours. After that, the map indicated that I had to take a smaller road, and I was by myself on a trail. On the bigger roads, there were a fair number of bikers racing past me. Apparently, all the go-fast bikers in Oslo ride mountain bikes, unlike at home, where they ride road bikes. There's probably one road bike for 200 mountain bikes on the street in Oslo.
Most of the riding was on gravel roads, but a couple of times, I took a single-track path. I probably didn't need to, but I thought I did at the time. What a pain! Lots of big deep muddy puddles that I had to ride across. Fortunately, I was wearing Tevas with wool socks, but then the bike got stuck in one of the bigger puddles and I almost went over. My socks were wet, and my ankles muddy! After the socks came off, all was well. It was a little cool in the shade, but there was plenty of sun to balance it out. The second track that I took crossed over a ridge and I quickly ended up carrying the bike over a rocky mountain, interspersed with boggy puddles. It took about a 1/2 hour, then I was back on the roadway again. I resolved not to do any single-track any more that day. The bike was coated with grime and mud though.
Then it was riding and riding for a long time, up little mountains, and down into valleys with lakes. Very beautiful. I should sadly let you know at this point, that the camera battery died before I could take one picture that day. :-(
Finally, I came down into the valley where the other restaurant is, only to discover that it is a winter hut, and closed for the summer. Fortunately, I'd brought a couple of food bars, and I had enough water, but I was disappointed -- all I really wanted was a ham sandwich and a beer!
No beer was probably just as well. This was a little past the farthest point in my planned loop journey, so I was headed back. Apparently I'd been climbing much more than I'd been descending, and I found myself barreling down a long hill. At one point, my skills were outclassed by a gravelly turn, and I went down, scraping my elbow, denting my helmet(!), and slamming my left thumb (not sure what happened there). Since I wasn't permanently broken, I was able to continue to ride on. As I watched the ground rapidly approach my face, all I could think of was that guy who wiped out in front of Rune and Laura on the Shasta ride. This was nowhere near that bad, though. Nice soft gravel.
After my crash, I decided that I was getting tired. It took a long time to get out of the mountains, but it was mostly all downhill. Rune and others here had recommended going to the ski jump hill to look at Oslo, but by the time I got near to it, I was quite tired and I didn't want to ride up a long hill. Also, with no camera, there didn't seem like a lot of reward for the effort.
Just past the ski jump area, one starts to descend into Oslo. I was coming back to the city from much farther West than I was familiar, so it was quite exciting, in an urban way. First I was on an expressway, then the expressway turned into a busy narrow street through a shopping district, then into a busy street going towards downtown. Finally, in a tired haze, I recognized some buildings, and after racking my brain, figured out how to get back to Owera, put the bike back in the office, and walked the 4 blocks back to the hotel. Total biking time -- 6 hours!
I showered, took a nap, then got some curry for dinner. I was back in my hotel resigned to a couple of hours of lousy TV, then sleep, when my colleagues dragged me out for another two hours of walking around Oslo. I think I ended up sleeping about 10 hours after all that, and I'm sore today!
I expect to do a few more morning rides (I leave on Friday morning), but nothing like that again.
David
One of my colleagues here, Jarl Even, has loaned me his nice mountain bike for the week. I first rode it on Friday, up the hill to the top of Oslo, along the river that comes from Maridalsvannet, the big lake that is Oslo's drinking water supply. It was about a 50 minute out-and-back, and mostly it took so long because I was trying to follow a path along the river -- once I gave up on that, it went pretty fast.
Saturday, I went mountain-biking into the forest just outside Oslo. It took about 30 minutes to ride up the hill and along the lake, then you are in a hilly, forested area. There is a huge area with fire-road like trails that are used by mountain bikers. Not really all that different from what we have in Los Altos -- in concept, at least. I think this is where Rune took Sharlene on their death-ski trip one winter.
I was equipped with a map from Jarl Even, and I rode a big loop. Inside the forest, there are these groups of huts, which are more used in the winter, as ski hotels. There was one on a lake, and the name was something like canoe-hut, and it looks like you can rent canoes, and paddle around on the (rather large) lake. The second set of buildings I got to was open for the summer, and I could smell fresh baking bread from outside. I filled up my water bottle, but didn't get anything to eat, as it was before lunch, and I figured I could get to the next one within a couple of hours. After that, the map indicated that I had to take a smaller road, and I was by myself on a trail. On the bigger roads, there were a fair number of bikers racing past me. Apparently, all the go-fast bikers in Oslo ride mountain bikes, unlike at home, where they ride road bikes. There's probably one road bike for 200 mountain bikes on the street in Oslo.
Most of the riding was on gravel roads, but a couple of times, I took a single-track path. I probably didn't need to, but I thought I did at the time. What a pain! Lots of big deep muddy puddles that I had to ride across. Fortunately, I was wearing Tevas with wool socks, but then the bike got stuck in one of the bigger puddles and I almost went over. My socks were wet, and my ankles muddy! After the socks came off, all was well. It was a little cool in the shade, but there was plenty of sun to balance it out. The second track that I took crossed over a ridge and I quickly ended up carrying the bike over a rocky mountain, interspersed with boggy puddles. It took about a 1/2 hour, then I was back on the roadway again. I resolved not to do any single-track any more that day. The bike was coated with grime and mud though.
Then it was riding and riding for a long time, up little mountains, and down into valleys with lakes. Very beautiful. I should sadly let you know at this point, that the camera battery died before I could take one picture that day. :-(
Finally, I came down into the valley where the other restaurant is, only to discover that it is a winter hut, and closed for the summer. Fortunately, I'd brought a couple of food bars, and I had enough water, but I was disappointed -- all I really wanted was a ham sandwich and a beer!
No beer was probably just as well. This was a little past the farthest point in my planned loop journey, so I was headed back. Apparently I'd been climbing much more than I'd been descending, and I found myself barreling down a long hill. At one point, my skills were outclassed by a gravelly turn, and I went down, scraping my elbow, denting my helmet(!), and slamming my left thumb (not sure what happened there). Since I wasn't permanently broken, I was able to continue to ride on. As I watched the ground rapidly approach my face, all I could think of was that guy who wiped out in front of Rune and Laura on the Shasta ride. This was nowhere near that bad, though. Nice soft gravel.
After my crash, I decided that I was getting tired. It took a long time to get out of the mountains, but it was mostly all downhill. Rune and others here had recommended going to the ski jump hill to look at Oslo, but by the time I got near to it, I was quite tired and I didn't want to ride up a long hill. Also, with no camera, there didn't seem like a lot of reward for the effort.
Just past the ski jump area, one starts to descend into Oslo. I was coming back to the city from much farther West than I was familiar, so it was quite exciting, in an urban way. First I was on an expressway, then the expressway turned into a busy narrow street through a shopping district, then into a busy street going towards downtown. Finally, in a tired haze, I recognized some buildings, and after racking my brain, figured out how to get back to Owera, put the bike back in the office, and walked the 4 blocks back to the hotel. Total biking time -- 6 hours!
I showered, took a nap, then got some curry for dinner. I was back in my hotel resigned to a couple of hours of lousy TV, then sleep, when my colleagues dragged me out for another two hours of walking around Oslo. I think I ended up sleeping about 10 hours after all that, and I'm sore today!
I expect to do a few more morning rides (I leave on Friday morning), but nothing like that again.
David
Thursday, August 9, 2007
Phil's Revenge
There is a tradition of using things found on rides for Cornichon awards. "Phil's Revenge" was found on Old La Honda on a May ride and was transported to Mtn. View in this manner.
Shasta Super Century
What a ride! It certainly fit Rune's definition of beautiful (ie. difficult to call it fun). Phil, Rob, Cathy, Sharlene, DNA and Betsey rode the 100K, Rick rode the 100M, and Paul, Rune, Laura and I set out to conquer the 135M route. We also discovered that Tom A. rode the 100M as well, but all the Armstrongs headed out after riding, so we didn't get to hook up.
Me, Julia and the boys drove up Saturday, reaching town in the evening. We'd stopped at the Shasta Caverns tour, which was actually pretty good. I was surprised to learn that about half of the tour was through caverns not discovered until the 80's (19). There weren't any really spectacular formations or anything, but it's a pretty darn good cave even so.
That night, we ate at the much-anticipated Piedmont restaurant, an Italian diner that probably serves the same menu that it started with in 1940. I loaded the pasta in, saving just enough room for the pre-ride ice cream. The first night, we delighted in the quaint sound of locomotives tooting their pastoral horns at the 5 crossings in Mt. Shasta -- just outside our window.
Early the next morning, I rode over to the start to meet Rune, Laura and Rick. Paul was going to start much earlier, but didn't, after he saw a bear wandering about in the dark the night before -- instead he started at 5:20 from Weed, so we didn't catch him for a while. The rest of us started at about 5:45 from Mt. Shasta.
The beginning is a gentle decline and rise around Weed and up to the foothills of the first peak. Then we discovered that although none of the climbs was extremely steep, they were steep enough to make a 1.5 or 2 hour climb a real grind. The terrain is interestingly different than the Sierras, because it's volcanic, and the hills are relatively gentle -- the road had no switchbacks. The beauty was remarkable.
The first climb was on the narrowest road, and as we got near the top, the first descenders started coming down. Rune and Laura, ahead of me, had the bad experience of watching someone else have an even worse experience: This guy, coming down (about 1/2 mile from the top), hit a pothole just in front of them, doing a head/faceplant into the pavement. I'll spoil the suspense by mentioning that later in the day, a ranger told us that the guy was ok. By the time I got to the fallen rider, it was gruesome: A potentially dead guy, crumpled around a smacked-up bike, with liquid spreading onto the pavement in a circle from his head. He wasn't moving. I rode around Laura and didn't even see Rune, who had both stopped, and rode up the hill, warning descenders that there was a crash on the road. At the top, the radio man called for help, and drove down to the crash.
The crowd at the top was very subdued. The view was really nice, with a bit of a chilly breeze coming across the pass. The food that I remember was Payday bars and banana bread -- pretty good really. I think mostly ate Paydays during the whole ride. Incidentally, I drank water mixed with Berry flavored Propel, and, for whatever reason, had no cramping at all, and drank lots of water. All hail kid's stuff.
This descent wasn't much fun, as everyone was thinking of smooshed heads, and we kept having to pull off to let ambulances, police cars, and fire engines go past. It's interesting to note that since the climbs weren't steep, in order to get great altitude gain, we had to ride miles and miles, thus the descent was very long, and we could look off into the distance to see the valley we were descending into as a little speck.
Next, cross back over Weed, and Mt. Shasta. I think it was about 40 miles of up and down before we got to the next climb. This one turned out to be the deal-breaker. The first half was gentle and nice. At the half point, there's a break, and Cathy surprised me by calling my name from the back of a tandem bicycle. I didn't see who was steering, but they claimed later that Rob was there. Much to my great dismay, the "super" riders didn't get to turn around a this point, but were required to continue riding. The road exchanged its insistent medium grade for a grueling steep grade, with few dips or shallow spots. Somewhere at the point where I was contemplating the last 1" of water in my bottle, it leveled out, and we came to the tent at the top. More Paydays and water. Mmmm. The road here was better than the first climb, and the descent was much more fun.
It was at about this point that I noticed that the thrill of watching others climb a hill I'd finished had a restorative action. Since we don't ride too many out-and-back rides -- mostly loops -- I'd never noticed how the suffering of others feels so good. It's unfortunate to note that Rune admitted to feeling just this boost, every time he descended past me -- about an hour ahead of me.
Just at the base of the second climb, a special seven mile climb was indicated for the century and super century riders. I dutifully headed up. I rode with a fellow for a while who warned me that the first two miles were steep. This was true, though I thought the other five miles weren't a cakewalk either. Finally at the top, an amazing view (how beautiful!) and a little lake. The descent was awesome! It was pleasantly warm, the road wide and steep and in good shape. There were plenty of straining riders to pass and smile at.
Here I'll note that the other riders I spoke to were friendly, and I had a few conversations. It did seem like most people were interested in comparing how many extreme rides they'd done, rather than chatting about other stuff. I was told about 105F heat in Markleeville, and warned about the potential of lightning on top of Shasta.
After the third climb, lunch. As I set off, a strange rider identified himself as Paul Ries, which turned out to be true. I left, leaving Paul to pick over the lunch leavings. From lunch, the ride climbs steadily through Mt Shasta city, then up the side of Mount Shasta to the parking lot at 7500'. The total climb is about 4500', which is comparable to climbing Page Mill twice. It didn't feel like that, though -- it felt much more beautiful. The lower part was exposed to the sun, and baked out any remaining energy. Two hours from the top, Laura rolled down -- she'd gotten ahead by wisely skipping the third climb. About 90 minutes from the top, Rune flew by going down. Later, I looked over and saw David Armstrong looking at me from a car. I was too tired to do anything but stare and drool.
I really didn't want to keep going, but I did, and finally I got to the top. It was great! I sat in a deck chair in the tent, and ate some food (I don't remember what). I looked out at the view of the peak (7000' up) and the valley (5000' down). It was all very beautiful.
While I was at the top, the shadows got long on that side of the mountain, and it started to cool off quite a bit. I started my plummet to the base. The first 1/3 was in shadow, and quite chilly. The other downside was that by now, there weren't very many up-riders to give me an energy boost (many had passed me, and I assume plenty had bailed out, too). Finally, I came around the corner of the mountain, and it warmed up nicely. Although I think the road was suited for 50MPH descents, I held it to about 30MPH due to unfamiliarity.
The very best thing about this ride is that you roll off of Shasta, and into the park with the Start/Finish line. Julia, Leo and Simon met me there, and helped peel the salt-encrusted helmet off of my head. Everything was rigid with sweat -- to an even greater degree than after the Death Ride. We were all impressed that I'd finished the whole thing.
Then, a quick trip to the hotel, a fast shower, took Paul to his hotel, then over to the Cornichon's Annual Banquet in Weed (at the cabin rented by Rune and Sharlene). What a fun dinner, especially since I didn't have to do anything but sit and eat and drink. It was really nice to have a big group of the sour pickles hanging out. The word of the hour was Languid, and there was plenty of it going about. It was great to sit there on the deck, and look at The Mountain in the cooling evening.
After dinner, we held an awards ceremony. Rune was awarded the Tough Rider trophy, me, the Hummingbird award, Phil the Deer Revenge trophy, and Rob and Cathy won the Natural Environment Riders (Senior Division) award. Cathy noticed that they have some recruitment to do if they want to be able to get rid of their trophy.
Somewhere around 10pm, my energy totally ran out, and we disappeared back to our hotel. I don't remember the trains, but I'm sure they were there.
Rune thought that this ride is harder than the Death Ride. The next day, I was tired, but not too sore. My odometer was mixed up, so I don't know about total ride time and so forth, but it was just less than 13 hours of wall-clock time for me -- I figure about 11 hours of pedaling, because I took a lot of unscheduled breaks to breathe (on the last two hills). By now -- four days later -- I'd do it again next year. It couldn't have been _that_ bad. :-)
Congratulations to all the riders!
David
Monday, July 16, 2007
Death Warmed Over (Rune's version)
I completed all 5 passes. Unfortunately, I do not have my riding time, as it appears my bike computer got accidentally reset after 90 miles or so (or did not register the whole ride). I used 9 hrs 50 mins to the finish line, and with a 10 minute roll down the hill to where I started, I guess my total wall-clock time was 10 hrs exactly! My riding time somewhere between 8 and 9 hrs. That was my optimistic goal so I am happy with that. I signed the poster at the finish at 3:25 pm.
I camped by the river just outside Markleeville with 5 serious riders who regularly do stuff like Bike Across America, 400-600 Km rides, some crazy ride across the Alps in France, and such. One guy had done the Death Ride 12 times on a recumbent (Larry). I guess I was nervous and hardly slept; heard all the others get up before dawn and take off at 4:30, before I starting seeing a hint of light and decided to get up. After a nervous ride up from the river along a rocky dirt road, I joined the endless stream of riders heading for Monitor pass at 5:30 am.
I quickly determined I had overdressed for the balmy morning, and pocketed my jacket, leg warmers, and long fingered gloves at the top of Monitor Pass before heading down towards Hwy 395. I was taking it easy, making sure I never felt like I was working hard and breathing easily the whole way up. A few fast hot-dogs passed me up, but I knew I had a long long way to go. Going down was fun a bit scary, as I hit 43 mph and had people blast pass me in tight turns where I slowed down. However, I had no death-wish on the death-ride and made sure to take all turns at a comfortable speed. I met David on the way down, and recognized him despite the extra weight on his back (camelback). We spent some time at the rest-stop.
Going back up the backside of Monitor was a lot of fun. I chatted with David for a while, then met Larry (from my campsite), who seemed to be in his own world sitting comfortably on his wide recumbent seat with speakers blasting some guitar solos (Led Zeppelin?) from his handlebars, head thrown back, mouth open, and dream-like eyes. I said hi, and then caught up with Paul and Christ (?) who I also camped with. The scenery was nice, the temperature perfect, and it was still early. I stopped for some water and a horrible gritty double espresso gel, before blasting down the front-side of Monitor pass. I was feeling great. Moved fast through the trees along the river, enjoyed the cheering crowds and was passing up a lot of people ... which, incidentally felt good too, and skipped all rest-stops.
As I started climbing up Ebbets pass I was spinning nicely, had found my pace and enjoyed the warm air, not yet really hot, the granite rocks, and small pine trees. It was a very long climb, and by the time I reached the top I was feeling tired, but had not really pressed hard, still trying to maintain a tempo where I never had to breath hard and never felt my muscles burn. I did not stop at the top (per advice from my camp-fellows) and flew down to the backside of Ebbets. At the rest-stop at the bottom I had some snacks and refilled my bottles. It was now getting hot. Coming back up the heat was getting to me a bit and I was starting to feel tired, but knew lunch was next, and kept pushing to maintain a steady tempo. My legs were getting tired, my butt was on fire, and I was sweating rivers. Again, I did not stop at the top, knowing I could rest on the long downhill.
After screaming down the front-side of Ebbets, by far the most fun descent, I came to the lunch stop where I had soup, a sandwich, refilled my bottles and reapplied sunscreen. There I met Mike K. who had done 4 passes fast and was wiped out. Like last year, he did not think he could make the last pass. I failed to convince him he could do it. We biked together for a bit, through Markleeville and the start/finish at Turtle Rock and I had a good understanding for why people stop after 4 passes: At this point I was tired, the climbing was becoming hard, and my butt felt like it had been hammered with rocks. But I kept going, knowing I could suffer through one more pass.
However, I had not counted on how long and grueling that last pass was. After refilling my bottles at Woodford at the bottom of Carson Pass with water and most welcome ice, I now climbed slowly at 6.5 mph up to pickets junction and Hope Valley. The climb was endless; my mind was repeating the mantra "almost there" "ice-cream" "almost there" "ice cream". More ice and water was welcome at Picket's Junction and the last part of the climb in headwind went a little better as I started regaining some strength. Towards the end I was passing up those who passed me lower down on the hill. I also met a guy on the way up who started doing the Death Ride at age 10, and did the full thing at age 12. He was now 20 and had done it 11 times. We rode together to the top. At the top I got the pin, had two ice creams, and chatted a bit with one of the MVV guys we see at Pete's. They had never passed me but still claimed to have started at 6:15, meaning they must have passed me at a rest-stop and had been going at an impressive speed.
When I got back to the finish after a scary and blitzing fast downhill with strong side-winds, they had not even started grilling dinner. I packed up and drove to Truckee. I swore I would never do it again, since the last pass was so painful, but after 24 hrs I was ready to do it again next year. What is wrong with me?
--- Rune
I camped by the river just outside Markleeville with 5 serious riders who regularly do stuff like Bike Across America, 400-600 Km rides, some crazy ride across the Alps in France, and such. One guy had done the Death Ride 12 times on a recumbent (Larry). I guess I was nervous and hardly slept; heard all the others get up before dawn and take off at 4:30, before I starting seeing a hint of light and decided to get up. After a nervous ride up from the river along a rocky dirt road, I joined the endless stream of riders heading for Monitor pass at 5:30 am.
I quickly determined I had overdressed for the balmy morning, and pocketed my jacket, leg warmers, and long fingered gloves at the top of Monitor Pass before heading down towards Hwy 395. I was taking it easy, making sure I never felt like I was working hard and breathing easily the whole way up. A few fast hot-dogs passed me up, but I knew I had a long long way to go. Going down was fun a bit scary, as I hit 43 mph and had people blast pass me in tight turns where I slowed down. However, I had no death-wish on the death-ride and made sure to take all turns at a comfortable speed. I met David on the way down, and recognized him despite the extra weight on his back (camelback). We spent some time at the rest-stop.
Going back up the backside of Monitor was a lot of fun. I chatted with David for a while, then met Larry (from my campsite), who seemed to be in his own world sitting comfortably on his wide recumbent seat with speakers blasting some guitar solos (Led Zeppelin?) from his handlebars, head thrown back, mouth open, and dream-like eyes. I said hi, and then caught up with Paul and Christ (?) who I also camped with. The scenery was nice, the temperature perfect, and it was still early. I stopped for some water and a horrible gritty double espresso gel, before blasting down the front-side of Monitor pass. I was feeling great. Moved fast through the trees along the river, enjoyed the cheering crowds and was passing up a lot of people ... which, incidentally felt good too, and skipped all rest-stops.
As I started climbing up Ebbets pass I was spinning nicely, had found my pace and enjoyed the warm air, not yet really hot, the granite rocks, and small pine trees. It was a very long climb, and by the time I reached the top I was feeling tired, but had not really pressed hard, still trying to maintain a tempo where I never had to breath hard and never felt my muscles burn. I did not stop at the top (per advice from my camp-fellows) and flew down to the backside of Ebbets. At the rest-stop at the bottom I had some snacks and refilled my bottles. It was now getting hot. Coming back up the heat was getting to me a bit and I was starting to feel tired, but knew lunch was next, and kept pushing to maintain a steady tempo. My legs were getting tired, my butt was on fire, and I was sweating rivers. Again, I did not stop at the top, knowing I could rest on the long downhill.
After screaming down the front-side of Ebbets, by far the most fun descent, I came to the lunch stop where I had soup, a sandwich, refilled my bottles and reapplied sunscreen. There I met Mike K. who had done 4 passes fast and was wiped out. Like last year, he did not think he could make the last pass. I failed to convince him he could do it. We biked together for a bit, through Markleeville and the start/finish at Turtle Rock and I had a good understanding for why people stop after 4 passes: At this point I was tired, the climbing was becoming hard, and my butt felt like it had been hammered with rocks. But I kept going, knowing I could suffer through one more pass.
However, I had not counted on how long and grueling that last pass was. After refilling my bottles at Woodford at the bottom of Carson Pass with water and most welcome ice, I now climbed slowly at 6.5 mph up to pickets junction and Hope Valley. The climb was endless; my mind was repeating the mantra "almost there" "ice-cream" "almost there" "ice cream". More ice and water was welcome at Picket's Junction and the last part of the climb in headwind went a little better as I started regaining some strength. Towards the end I was passing up those who passed me lower down on the hill. I also met a guy on the way up who started doing the Death Ride at age 10, and did the full thing at age 12. He was now 20 and had done it 11 times. We rode together to the top. At the top I got the pin, had two ice creams, and chatted a bit with one of the MVV guys we see at Pete's. They had never passed me but still claimed to have started at 6:15, meaning they must have passed me at a rest-stop and had been going at an impressive speed.
When I got back to the finish after a scary and blitzing fast downhill with strong side-winds, they had not even started grilling dinner. I packed up and drove to Truckee. I swore I would never do it again, since the last pass was so painful, but after 24 hrs I was ready to do it again next year. What is wrong with me?
--- Rune
Sunday, July 15, 2007
Death Warmed Over
I completed four passes.
Yesterday, I had nothing good to say about the death ride, but my memory has pleasantly faded by today. I started at 5am, slightly chilly, but really probably mid-50's. Up over Monitor pass, which is an endless, single grade climb. The worst part of a climb like that is that you can see a line of little ants about two or three miles ahead, and slowly, you become one of those ants. Coming down was significantly more fun, except for navigating the 20-MPH and the 50-MPH riders. Jeez! Just before the bottom, Rune (starting at 5:30) caught up to me. We started back up to Monitor pass, and rode together for about ten minutes. I learned that Paul and co. started at 4am, which might not have been a bad idea.
Back over Monitor, then a left turn, and up to Ebbets pass. This one is nasty. It was a freakin' long climb. Generally, say, like going from gate 2 to gate 3 on Page Mill, but doing it for two hours or something. It was quite beautiful. Just as I got to the top, my legs started to twinge. I rested and contemplated finishing three passes, but I decided that the fourth pass (down the back of Ebbets, and back up just 5 miles) wouldn't be too much. Coming back up, I was glad that I'd filled my water backback with ice -- that saved my life. It was getting quite warm, and the climb is pretty exposed. It was unfortunate that none of the other water stops seemed to have ice. My mantra had become, at this point "the worst thing that can happen is that I'll cry".
Coming down Ebbets was great -- lots of fun zooming down the hill. It really did my heart and mood good to see all those people suffering up the mountain that I was completely done with. Then I started to get massive leg cramps, so I had to stand up in the pedals and grit my teeth. Ow! One notable thing were three women at one cabin who were partying and cheering on the riders -- they added a bit of fun to the ride.
Then lunch, and a lazy roll back to Markleeville. At this point, I was on the fence about going for Kit Carson pass -- I felt wiped out. In Markleeville, the heat came up, and it was hot! I was sweating and drinking -- but not eating enough. By the time I'd climbed back to Turtle Rock park, I was totally done. I rode into the finish area, and stood there dazed. My cell phone had no signal, so I couldn't call Julia, and I was about two hours early. There was a pay phone, but I wasn't about to call for help in front of all these other bikers who'd finished the whole thing already. I took an easy roll down to Woodford's to use my phone there. I was thinking that maybe I'd keep riding, but I could barely pedal my bike across the street, so I SAG'd out (Julia -- kindly -- picked me up about 20 minutes later). 90 miles -- 8 hours pedaling time.
Ultimately, I think the heat, combined with not eating enough, killed me. Timewise, I was doing OK. I called Julia at about 2pm, and I figured the rest of the ride would take me about three hours -- I just didn't want to ride anymore, to the degree that I didn't even want to do anything that would help me feel better. I may have to do it again; I haven't decided. At any rate, I think it was a pretty good achievement, and I feel great today.
Rune had a great ride, but that's his to tell. I heard that he ran into Mike K. at the lunch stop. I saw one of the MVV guys go by me down Ebbets, but I didn't see anyone else that I know.
We stayed three nights at David Walley's resort, in Genoa. We've wanted to test it for a long time. It's a bit weird place. The people there are quite nice -- at lot of Midwesterners. The timeshare part isn't that nice though -- it seems overdeveloped relative to the size of the attraction. The spa is good, with hot mineral pools, and reasonable massages. We ate dinner at this classy French restaurant, La Ferme, in Genoa, so I had to break my temperance rule, and split a bottle of wine with Julia on Thursday night.
Our next ride is the Shasta Super Century. Since I didn't do the whole DR, I'm contemplating the long version here, but not sure about it. I hated getting up at 3:45AM!
David
Yesterday, I had nothing good to say about the death ride, but my memory has pleasantly faded by today. I started at 5am, slightly chilly, but really probably mid-50's. Up over Monitor pass, which is an endless, single grade climb. The worst part of a climb like that is that you can see a line of little ants about two or three miles ahead, and slowly, you become one of those ants. Coming down was significantly more fun, except for navigating the 20-MPH and the 50-MPH riders. Jeez! Just before the bottom, Rune (starting at 5:30) caught up to me. We started back up to Monitor pass, and rode together for about ten minutes. I learned that Paul and co. started at 4am, which might not have been a bad idea.
Back over Monitor, then a left turn, and up to Ebbets pass. This one is nasty. It was a freakin' long climb. Generally, say, like going from gate 2 to gate 3 on Page Mill, but doing it for two hours or something. It was quite beautiful. Just as I got to the top, my legs started to twinge. I rested and contemplated finishing three passes, but I decided that the fourth pass (down the back of Ebbets, and back up just 5 miles) wouldn't be too much. Coming back up, I was glad that I'd filled my water backback with ice -- that saved my life. It was getting quite warm, and the climb is pretty exposed. It was unfortunate that none of the other water stops seemed to have ice. My mantra had become, at this point "the worst thing that can happen is that I'll cry".
Coming down Ebbets was great -- lots of fun zooming down the hill. It really did my heart and mood good to see all those people suffering up the mountain that I was completely done with. Then I started to get massive leg cramps, so I had to stand up in the pedals and grit my teeth. Ow! One notable thing were three women at one cabin who were partying and cheering on the riders -- they added a bit of fun to the ride.
Then lunch, and a lazy roll back to Markleeville. At this point, I was on the fence about going for Kit Carson pass -- I felt wiped out. In Markleeville, the heat came up, and it was hot! I was sweating and drinking -- but not eating enough. By the time I'd climbed back to Turtle Rock park, I was totally done. I rode into the finish area, and stood there dazed. My cell phone had no signal, so I couldn't call Julia, and I was about two hours early. There was a pay phone, but I wasn't about to call for help in front of all these other bikers who'd finished the whole thing already. I took an easy roll down to Woodford's to use my phone there. I was thinking that maybe I'd keep riding, but I could barely pedal my bike across the street, so I SAG'd out (Julia -- kindly -- picked me up about 20 minutes later). 90 miles -- 8 hours pedaling time.
Ultimately, I think the heat, combined with not eating enough, killed me. Timewise, I was doing OK. I called Julia at about 2pm, and I figured the rest of the ride would take me about three hours -- I just didn't want to ride anymore, to the degree that I didn't even want to do anything that would help me feel better. I may have to do it again; I haven't decided. At any rate, I think it was a pretty good achievement, and I feel great today.
Rune had a great ride, but that's his to tell. I heard that he ran into Mike K. at the lunch stop. I saw one of the MVV guys go by me down Ebbets, but I didn't see anyone else that I know.
We stayed three nights at David Walley's resort, in Genoa. We've wanted to test it for a long time. It's a bit weird place. The people there are quite nice -- at lot of Midwesterners. The timeshare part isn't that nice though -- it seems overdeveloped relative to the size of the attraction. The spa is good, with hot mineral pools, and reasonable massages. We ate dinner at this classy French restaurant, La Ferme, in Genoa, so I had to break my temperance rule, and split a bottle of wine with Julia on Thursday night.
Our next ride is the Shasta Super Century. Since I didn't do the whole DR, I'm contemplating the long version here, but not sure about it. I hated getting up at 3:45AM!
David
Sunday, June 10, 2007
Tourus Interruptus
I woke up this morning with all of my misanthropy intact. Drove down to HP Galactic HQ to register and ride in the Tour de Cure (for the American Diabetes Association) 120K gig, basically the Dearth Ride, except going over on King's Mountain.
It was fair warning -- signed up for the Google team, I was indunated with emails about practice rides, who's going to meet where, and ok let's raise money! I got to the area before Rune and Sharlene, so I registered. A crowd of morons in ADA t-shirts clanking cowbells everytime someone registers. Kill me now. I'm thinkin' "there _is_ no cure for this". I drink complimentary Starbucks coffee. I go over to the Google tent and say hi. We take a picture or two, then its time to line up for the start. Millions of riders, all in their corporate cyclewear. Lots of biotech companies. Later, I realize, of course they are there, raising frickin' money so that hospitals can afford to buy their frickin' biotech products. Vultures. No Rune, no Sharlene. Cowbells. The ride starts, and there are R&S -- not registered.
I need to reveal my own problem, which is that I have to be back by 1 (a _safe_ 1) in order to attend Simon's violin recital at 2. This means I don't feel comfortable hanging around waiting for R&S -- I've got to bust my ass to finish the loop in time, and I'm not relaxed about it.
So I take off with the crowd of nimrods in colorful cyclist garb. We blast peloton-style out to Alpine, Portola, and over to Kings Mountain. Very few friendly people. All the cockheads are out, faster than me, faster than you. I did hook up with one fellow going up KM, and we chatted -- that was ok, but the effect was spoiled by a guy zooming by us and reassuring us that we were "really doing well!". Frickin' reassuring to be the retard of the month.
Somewhere at this point, I realized that I had no interest in spending another day on my bike (after last weeks 9 hour extravaganza), and I knew I was going to bail out. I rode to the top, over to 84, took my number off, and had an excellent ride back to HP. The icy black fog over the hill wasn't the reason, buy it did provide support for the decision. The whole way back, I was trying to guess how I could get back without hearing any more cowbells. I got lucky, and was able to slip away quietly.
Going back, I did get stuck behind a guy wearing a full Bike Connection outfit, with _underwear_ peeking above his shorts. It's so wrong.
The main thing I've learned from this is to avoid rides hosted by big charities. I'd rather be contributing to the local Boy Scout's Beer Fund, or something useful like that.
Also, I realized that when the Cornichons finally organize a ride, its' going to be a fundraiser for NORML. We can ride from Mountain View to Palo Alto, do bong hits, and sit on the lawn and listen to reggae. More cowbell!
Sincerely,
David
It was fair warning -- signed up for the Google team, I was indunated with emails about practice rides, who's going to meet where, and ok let's raise money! I got to the area before Rune and Sharlene, so I registered. A crowd of morons in ADA t-shirts clanking cowbells everytime someone registers. Kill me now. I'm thinkin' "there _is_ no cure for this". I drink complimentary Starbucks coffee. I go over to the Google tent and say hi. We take a picture or two, then its time to line up for the start. Millions of riders, all in their corporate cyclewear. Lots of biotech companies. Later, I realize, of course they are there, raising frickin' money so that hospitals can afford to buy their frickin' biotech products. Vultures. No Rune, no Sharlene. Cowbells. The ride starts, and there are R&S -- not registered.
I need to reveal my own problem, which is that I have to be back by 1 (a _safe_ 1) in order to attend Simon's violin recital at 2. This means I don't feel comfortable hanging around waiting for R&S -- I've got to bust my ass to finish the loop in time, and I'm not relaxed about it.
So I take off with the crowd of nimrods in colorful cyclist garb. We blast peloton-style out to Alpine, Portola, and over to Kings Mountain. Very few friendly people. All the cockheads are out, faster than me, faster than you. I did hook up with one fellow going up KM, and we chatted -- that was ok, but the effect was spoiled by a guy zooming by us and reassuring us that we were "really doing well!". Frickin' reassuring to be the retard of the month.
Somewhere at this point, I realized that I had no interest in spending another day on my bike (after last weeks 9 hour extravaganza), and I knew I was going to bail out. I rode to the top, over to 84, took my number off, and had an excellent ride back to HP. The icy black fog over the hill wasn't the reason, buy it did provide support for the decision. The whole way back, I was trying to guess how I could get back without hearing any more cowbells. I got lucky, and was able to slip away quietly.
Going back, I did get stuck behind a guy wearing a full Bike Connection outfit, with _underwear_ peeking above his shorts. It's so wrong.
The main thing I've learned from this is to avoid rides hosted by big charities. I'd rather be contributing to the local Boy Scout's Beer Fund, or something useful like that.
Also, I realized that when the Cornichons finally organize a ride, its' going to be a fundraiser for NORML. We can ride from Mountain View to Palo Alto, do bong hits, and sit on the lawn and listen to reggae. More cowbell!
Sincerely,
David
Monday, May 14, 2007
Tour of the Unknown Coast Report
Rune and Paul Ries and I rode it this year. Although rain was promised, all we got was a strong wind blowing icy fog into our faces. This was going up the Endless Hills, and down the other side to the finish.
The start was great. Rune and I got to about 50 yards behind the lead peloton, and were moving in to latch on. At 23.5mph, we slowly gained ground -- until the lead group found their pace, and voom! Oh well. Shortly later, I fell back to reattach chain to gears. Rune headed on to follow the leaders, reportedly all the way to the Wall, where they dropped him like yesterdays' fish.
The ride was gorgeous, a bit overcast and cool, but no rain. A pretty good crowd of riders, great veggie soup at the lunch break. No water balloon throwers in Petrolia. Only a stiff headwind along the coast (not like last year!).
I'm pleased to announce that I stayed on my bike all the way up the Wall, and up the Endless Hills as well. My pedaling time was 7 1/2 hours, and total was about 8. Rune finished in 6 1/2. The fastest time was slightly better than 5 1/2. BTW, the second place finisher is 49 years old. The first placed guy, named Tinker, is a bike racer in the Olympics.
A pitcher of beer, some beef and onion rings were consumed afterwards.
The biggest thrill was coming down the last descent, with bright red, swollen and numb fingers. Everything was wet. I could grip the brakes, but I couldn't feel that I was pulling on them. Then a quick rise -- I couldn't bend my fingers to shift, so I was just punching at the shifters with the tips until I got the desired action. That's what it's all about, baby!
Rune reports feelings of great confidence, due to the shininess of his new bike, and the shiftiness of his new Campy transmission. He is Ready! He is Green!
Hope to see you out there.
David
The start was great. Rune and I got to about 50 yards behind the lead peloton, and were moving in to latch on. At 23.5mph, we slowly gained ground -- until the lead group found their pace, and voom! Oh well. Shortly later, I fell back to reattach chain to gears. Rune headed on to follow the leaders, reportedly all the way to the Wall, where they dropped him like yesterdays' fish.
The ride was gorgeous, a bit overcast and cool, but no rain. A pretty good crowd of riders, great veggie soup at the lunch break. No water balloon throwers in Petrolia. Only a stiff headwind along the coast (not like last year!).
I'm pleased to announce that I stayed on my bike all the way up the Wall, and up the Endless Hills as well. My pedaling time was 7 1/2 hours, and total was about 8. Rune finished in 6 1/2. The fastest time was slightly better than 5 1/2. BTW, the second place finisher is 49 years old. The first placed guy, named Tinker, is a bike racer in the Olympics.
A pitcher of beer, some beef and onion rings were consumed afterwards.
The biggest thrill was coming down the last descent, with bright red, swollen and numb fingers. Everything was wet. I could grip the brakes, but I couldn't feel that I was pulling on them. Then a quick rise -- I couldn't bend my fingers to shift, so I was just punching at the shifters with the tips until I got the desired action. That's what it's all about, baby!
Rune reports feelings of great confidence, due to the shininess of his new bike, and the shiftiness of his new Campy transmission. He is Ready! He is Green!
Hope to see you out there.
David
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