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

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