SIR Spring 200K: Au Revoir et Merci

Prologue

If the entries in this blog are any indication, I've been off the bike for a while. Since November. My R-12 streak - which was at 27 months - came to an end. I think Thai Nguyen is the current leader at 48+. Four R-12s: Mon Dieu! Duane Wright is not that far behind Thai. Enough about them; this is about ME! :)

5:40a: I rode to Kingsgate Park and Ride in Kirkland to be picked up by Thai. I forgot my helmet and had to ride back, which means I missed my appointed hour of 6am by 2 minutes. I didn't know this at the time, but slogging to make time was going to be the theme. We chatted about randonneuring, PBP 2007, and rides past, including Thai's 1000k-on-fixie.

The start was full of riders, fulfilling Greg's desire to go out with record participation. The Coxes, like the Thomses are one of the two ride organizers who open their homes to us. The hill to Greg's house, and the hill up to Mark Thomas' house occupy a special place in SIR ride lore. Greg has helped out more than one rider (including this one) with his endless supply of gloves, helmets, water bottles, and bike parts saving many a rider from a DNS or a DNF. The food, course, attention and encouragement are all top notch. I was a bit sad about this being the final Chili Feed. Maybe Greg will do it again in a few years time. ;)

Start to Town and Country Foods

After some ride instructions, which included the ominous insertion of "a bonus vista", we set off. I hung out safely in the back, no point venturing forward when you are going to get spit out faster than a rotten peanut. I knew exactly where this "bonus" vista would be, having ridden one of the Winter Training rides in years past up that very "vista". I was quite nervous about this ride: I was croaking. Only seeing several well-known faces (though some friends were nowhere to be found) kept my mind off my task for the day: to show up back at Greg's house riding my bicycle before 8:30p.

I rode with a huge bunch, flying down the hill on 240th street, and braking severely at times for the lights. Mike Huber, an old buddy on these rides, pulled up next to me and we started catching up with each others lives. Just before the first climb, Mike found out that he forgot his water bottles at the start. I had two, and I was pretty sure I could buy another water bottle along the way, and so I gave him one of my water bottles.

They pulled away on the climb, and the first of many chain popping offs started. I had just replaced the chain, and it kept falling off the back when I attempted to use the lowest cog in the back. Frank Wilson, stopped to see if I was ok, but I waved him on, leery of delaying him. I eventually made it to the top, and I pulled over to look at my problem. Eric Simmons and Frank stopped, and Frank adjusted my derailleur, and hopefully things would be well again. Things improved tremendously after that, but I couldn't use my lowest cog throughout the ride.

As we headed toward the water, I knew that I was in for some pain. I made it up the first little grade ok (and Frank even rode back down to see if I was ok, when my chain popped off again), but I didn't have it in me to ride the next little bit. Halfway up, I swallowed my pride and started walking. The 24" gear to the rescue! I didn't want photo evidence published, but I was in no shape to ride up that grade. Eventually near the top I got on my bike again, and Joe Platzner took a photo of me riding up that grade on my bike. I finally got to Town and Country Foods, and met Mark Thomas, Vincent Muoneke and Amy Pieper, and was told that I had a whopping 13 minutes in the bank. The first "Should I just quit?" thought just entered my mind, but I quickly put it away: there was no way I was going to DNF the final Chili Feed!

Town and Country Foods to Black Diamond Bakery

At the coffee store, I ate a couple of donuts and some salted peanuts in record time, and got back on my bike. There were four of us vying for Lanterne Rouge: Eric Simmons, Frank Wilson, David Smith and myself. (though I didn't know that Paul Johnson was behind us, having suffered an endless succession of flats). This group helped me forget my "DNF' thoughts, and I focused on getting to the next control. Another climb and no chain incidents.

Green Valley Road was as pretty as ever, with the farms, the fog, and the blue skies. I was stopped just before the Black Diamond climb to apply bag balm, and Chuck Hoffman passed me with a "stop lollygagging, and start riding". The climb went rather uneventfully, but I did have to zigzag to reduce the grade. I finally made the control to a huge collection of volunteers: Mark Thomas, Peter McKay, Amy Pieper, Bob Brudvik, and the Nussbaums. I had 8 minutes to spare. Duane Wright was leaving the control as I pulled in.

Black Diamond Bakery to Greenwater

An enthusiastic and cheerful group of volunteers will do for your brain what several hours in the bank cannot do, and that is provide welcome distraction through conversation, and lots of encouragement. When I professed doubts about making the Greenwater control it was quickly shot down by Mark and Amy with a look of absolute certainty on their faces (fakers!): "Oh, you will make Greenwater". Ralph was adamant that I would make time on the next leg: "We got here at about the same time as you did, and we finished in 10 hours and change". It is words like these that help you keep going for it's harder to quit when you know that others want to see you succeed. Thanks guys! I might have thrown in the towel here had it not been for you.

All of the randonneurs had left. I got two blueberry strudels, sat outside and and joked with the volunteers about the fastest riders, and moved on right as the control closed. The rain started on Black Diamond Road, and matured to a full-on hail session just before the "Secret" control on Cumberland-Kanaskat Road. There was also a bit of headwind, but when I arrived at the "usual" location of the control, but there was no one to be found. I soldiered on, into the wind and the hail, and the downpour, and after about 2 miles, I saw Mark Roberts on the side of the road with the SIR control sign. I stopped just enough to get my card signed and see if they had any food. But Mark and Rick Haight were both out of food, and so I went to the Cumberland store to get a Pay-Day bar.

At the left turn onto Greenwater, David Smith and I pulled over for a moment. We had 2 hours and 2 minutes to go 17 miles. I was sure I wouldn't make it, but I was determined to try. I took off at first, and the climb to Mud Mountain Dam Road had me by the @#$@#, but I got to the top, and started seeing riders coming back to make the left turn. I would have killed to be in their shoes. Dozens and Dozens of cheering faces went by, offering recognition and encouragement. The temperature kept dropping as I neared Greenwater, and I could see my own breath for the first time all day. I had no time to stop and put on clothing.

Riding with no time banked isn't a problem IF one has the ability to bank some. The prospect of a mechanical delay or getting lost was terrifying. Mike Huber was headed back the other way and rode over to my side to thank me for lending him my water bottle. I feel now that I acted rudely by not slowing down to talk to him, but I had no choice: I was focused on making Greenwater. Sorry, Mike!

I had dropped Dave Smith, and he hadn't caught up to me at all, and I suspected a DNF. Two miles from the control, he blew by me dead set on making the Control. I pulled into Greenwater at 4:06 with 2 minutes to spare. I got the clerk to sign my card, and he signed it with "4:11", which was 3 minutes outside the time limit. I had to show him my phone to get him to change the time. The store had a nice sign inside that said "Welcome, Bike Racers".

Greenwater to Enumclaw

I was relieved. The hardest section of the ride was over. Sure, 218th Ave loomed large, and so did the final climb to Greg's house, but they were minutes of effort, not hours. They were all out of Pay-Day bars, and so I was forced to buy a Snickers bar. Duane Wright was leaving the control, and I found out that Dave Smith had suffered a flat, which was why he wasn't ahead of me by a half-hour at least.

The ride back from Greenwater wasn't quite as fast as I expected, but I felt good nevertheless. David Smith again blew by me, and this time there was no catching him. A wee bit of rain also started falling at this time. The misty sort. The splash from vehicles on the highway made things dirtier than they needed to be.

As I made the turn onto Mud Mountain Dam Road, I saw two people pulled over on the side fixing a flat, and after a quick "Are you ok?" I moved on (shame on me!). The rain started hammering down, and the descent down Mud Mountain Dam road, ordinarily no cup of tea, was pretty painful. Stinging rain on ones face while going downhill in excess of 20+ mph! Yippee!

I spied a green jacket ahead, and caught up to Duane Wright, with whom I rode to the Enumclaw control under clear skies. The time was 5:57. I had more than 25 minutes in the bank for the first time. I finally knew that I would finish the ride.

Enumclaw to the Finish

We drank Hot Chocolate, commiserated with the clerk who had been signing cards all day. Our riders were well behaved however, and she had no complaints. We all donned out night riding gear. As the clock struck 6:10, I had the hankering to move on again, so telling Duane that I would ride slowly, I took off into the fast approaching darkness.

I knew this next stretch almost by-heart, so I made my way as fast as I could, but upon starting the climb up 218th, I finally remembered that I told Duane that I would soft pedal, so I really backed off, and waited for him about a 100 meters up the climb. Duane wasn't far behind, and by virtue of his fixed-gear, had only one speed to go. He didn't weave back and forth, and maintained an even pace straight up the face of the hill. We were also joined at this point by two other gentlemen, who I didn't catch the name of, and the three of us caught Duane waiting for us at the next turn.

The next few miles are almost entirely downhill, so we all hammered to make some time, and when we got near the fire station, the two gentlemen peeled off. Duane took off again up the hill, but I wasn't that far behind. We rode in together to finish. I was so relieved! No DNF! But a new Personal Worst at the 200k distance. 13 hours and 6 minutes. As Jason Dul says, DFL (Dead F-ing Last) is better than DNF. :)

Post ride

There were several volunteers cheering for us at the finish: I saw Dan Jensen, Eric Vigoren, Maggie Williams, Greg Cox, Lyn Gill, Mark Thomas, and Peter McKay, all of whom offered congratulations. I picked up the water bottle that Mike Huber had returned. I had some incredible Vegetarian Chili, and fruits. Thanks Greg and Mary for so many years of fun.

Mark gave me a ride home, and I tried my best to butter the President by saying nice things about Apple. Time to get in shape for the 300! It promises to be considerably flatter than this one. I'd be happy to just finish that one too :)

R-1 in the books.

ORR Birkie 200: A thorough soaking

Prologue

Happy birthday to my dear Father-in-law.

What is the definition of a rainy ride? According to David Huelsbeck, it is any ride where one needs to stop and wring the water out of ones socks. By that definition, the 2009 Birkie wasn't a rainy ride. But by most peoples' definition, this one was a soaker.


Having missed the Chili Feed 200k for the first time in 3 years, the Birkenfield 200k in Oregon beckoned. After months of Permanents, it felt great to start with a new group of people, renew old acquaintances, and ogle new bikes. Despite the weather forecast calling for some rain, there were more than a few of us. This is a brevet of great vibes for me as my brevet personal record was set here in 2007. Of course, I had a whole lot more miles in my legs then than I do now. Today, completion was the goal.

I had two layers on top: a synthetic inner layer and a wool jersey on top, topped off by my Showers Pass jacket. I wore Pearl Izumi shorts and Ibex Leg warmers, with my prized Chili socks, with booties on top. I neglected to wear my rain pants and my helmet cover, and would pay dearly for this.

Start to Vernonia


There was a slight drizzle, but the dark skies tempered any enthusiasm. After a few words, the group took off, and the lights of Forest Grove even at that early hour, broke up the pack quite quickly. And of course, my pace didn't help matters either. I was by myself before long, and tooling along, when Joe Platzner came riding by, and we chatted for a few minutes before his natural pace took him gently away from me. Gales Creek Road meandering along the eponymous creek has some nice vistas of the mountains, and the rain made the greens pop out.


The climb up to Timber was much easier last time around. It was raining heavily by the time I reached the clear cut top, and plunged down the other side. We wouldn't climb for a while. My gloves were soaked through, but I was warm everyplace else. I should have found an awning and stopped to put the last remaining stuff on, but I was too dumb. The Vernonia control is always well-stocked: in 2007 it saved me from the cold. I kept turning the pedals thinking of the well-stocked Vernonia control. Hot Coffee or hot Chocolate was sure to be served, along with muffins, nuts, donuts and cookies. Just as I was entering the control I saw Cecil leaving on her beautiful Sweet Pea. She looked cheery despite the conditions. She almost always is. We shouted out our hello's and she went on by.


Vernonia to Birkenfeld


The control didn't disappoint. There was a huge group still there, and Peg was there as usual to give me grief. I had Del retrieve and sign my card: I was too far wet to consider touching my card. I had two cups of excellent (french press) coffee, by far the best I have had at a control. I stuffed my face with Cookies and nuts, and spent about 10-15 minutes at this control, just recovering in general. Paul Johnson was also there, and we caught up some. I took off, but not before I heard Peg share "too much information". :)

It was still raining, and as I took off for the info control, I didn't even realize that I had forgotten to put on my rain pants and my helmet cover. I pulled over at the school and saw Paul Johnson go on by as I covered the last of my exposed areas. My face was the only area left uncovered. I would have made the Taliban proud!


I pulled up next to Paul, and we shared memories of wonderful rides (that dry and hot 1000k in 2006), to make us forget the current drudgery. Ron Himschoot, that fount of wisdom, calls randonneurs "too dumb to quit". Having signed up for this ride despite knowing the weather forecast, I could find very little to change his opinion. Peg, Lesli and Sara were pulled over fixing a flat, and I just assumed that they were heading back to Stoney Point Road: they hadn't yet.


Everybody stopped at the info control, but I knew the question, and the answer, and just made a U-turn and headed back. Stoney Point Road climbs gently, and offers more of a chance to admire the scenery. I half-expected Paul to catch up to me again, but somehow that didn't happen. It was raining in earnest now, and I stopped every 5 miles or so to wring out the water from my gloves. I would squeeze my fingers together in a fist and more water would come out.

I have always cruised on this stretch: I do not know why. We had a monster headwind in 2007, but I still made good time. This time, it felt like there was a tailwind, and I cruised by. I should have noticed that the water was flowing in my direction. I was headed generally downhill. Quite a few riders were headed back to Vernonia, and I calculated - correctly - that most of them were hours ahead of me. I passed a pensive Bill Alsup, and reached the Birkenfeld control. There was a small group there trying to warm up, and stay next to the heater.


Birkenfeld to Vernonia


I bought some food and huddled up, and warmed myself. I ordered the biggest Hot Chocolate they sold, and drank it down. It was pretty demoralizing to have to go out in the rain again, but I took off again after about 15 minutes, warmed up considerably. The ride back to Vernonia was mostly a very gentle uphill, but the winds were generally co-operative. I made it to the Coffee shop with grand plans of another excellent Hot Chocolate.


Vernonia to Glenwood

I have long wondered why some coffee shop workers have lousy reputations. They supposedly ignore people and do not have the right attitude. I had never been exposed to this kind of behaviour before, but I guess there is always a first time. I am being generous when I say I got my "Hot Chocolate": it was neither. I ate my cookie, told Peg (and Lesli and Sara) about the general standard of the refreshments, and took off, confident that they would catch me before the Timber climb.

Rain, rain and more rain later, I climbed the Timber incline. My rear-view mirror showed three hard-charging randonneuses, who I tried to beat out for "person of the mountain" points, but Peg cheated and beat me (she stood on the pedals) :) I am the heaviest of the lot but somehow they bombed ahead of me, leaving me quite shocked. I finally caught up with John, who has a very interesting name, and pulled into the Glenwood control.


Glenwood to Finish


There were quite a few bikes at this control, and we made quick work of this control. None of us argued when the clerk commented that she hadn't seen rain like this for a very long time. John and I left together, but not before the trio of Lesli, Peg and Sara. Just before the tavern on Gales Greek Road, they pulled into the covered area, and I thought they were pulling over for clothing adjustments. It turns out that they had another flat. We were rewarded by a nice tailwind. This has always been a great benefit of this ride. A nice 10 mile jaunt to the finish, but I somehow got separated from John.

About 3 miles from the finish, a stranger made his (?) appearance: the Sun. We had about 15 minutes of dry weather on this ride. John and I pulled in together to the control, where our cards were signed by a smiling Sam Huffman. We were done! I chatted with Susan and Sam for a little while, and then took off for Beaverton.


I am wondering if I can get David to change the definition of a rainy ride to gloves and/or socks!?

Familiar roads, unfamiliar pain.

Prologue

Familiar roads are fun, like visiting an old friend. While some things remain the same, there is always great pleasure in noticing something new about them. Some permanents qualify as old friends. Some of the perks include not having to consult the route sheet much, being aware of what turns are to be made, and what each turns looks like, and the scenery in general terms. Some of the newness comes from construction, the weather, seasonal changes, time-of-day changes, your body, and the like.

Pain however, is not much fun. It's like visiting a few relatives of mine. When I was at their homes, all I could do was try and find something to alleviate the "pain". My body betrayed me on this ride. My mileage this past few months has been very low. It's my own fault of course, but it gave me a good reminder of how little we can take for granted in the randonneuring world.

Needing a 200k for December, and seeing a rare (for December) above freezing day, I set off for the Arco Gas station in Redmond to do the Snoqualmie Valley and Falls Permanent this past Saturday. I rode to the start, and as the fog thickened I stopped a couple of times to seriously ponder whether I should even do this ride today. But, nice days in December are not to be wasted. This kept me going.

My original plan was to start at 5a, but I overshot the Arco gas station, and then rode back to get a receipt, only to find out that I really needed to use the bathroom. The Arco station had no food and no restrooms, and so I was forced to go to the 7-11 near Sammamish Valley Cycle. The clerk there refused to let me use the bathroom, so I just bought food. As I lined up to pay, he asked me if I was from India. When I replied in the affirmative, he let me use the restroom in the back: no lock on the door, and the door didn't close completely. Lovely! Apparently he thought that an Indian wouldn't mind the substandard restroom facilities. I was in no position to argue the injustice of it all to him however. Redmond 7-11 bathrooms are apparently for Indian looking people only.

6a: Start to Lake Stevens

It was foggy. The climb up Novelty Hill Road wasn't particularly cruel, and the turns came fast and easy, and the route sheet was rarely consulted. The joy of riding familiar roads. The sun started poking his head out of the mountains near Snoqualmie Valley Road, and I stopped to take a picture of the glorious light on the greenery.

Traffic was light, but the lights at all of the farms were on. Some people start early. I reached Lake Stevens with plenty of time to spare, and took off after about 10 minutes. My left knee let me know that it was still in trouble, but nothing untoward.

Lake Stevens to Sultan

The fog was lifting, and the trail was full of runners, and quite a few men wearing "Army" uniforms running on the trail. I almost took out one gentleman who hastily turned left with nary a warning, and my "On the left" went for nought: iPod. Just before the climb up Old Owen Road I met another bicyclist out on a permanent ride:

Unenventful roads and an even more uneventful climb up Old Owen Road later, I was at the SubShop in Sultan, which is a faster stop than the Bakery (blasphemy!). My plans of holding off Mark Roberts (who was to start an hour and a half later on this same ride) succeded. But as I was finishing my food I was greeted with "Narayan, what are you doing here?". It was Mark. I had only beaten him here by 10 minutes! ;)

Sultan to North Bend

I set off ahead of Mark (who got a nice Coffee and a sandwich), knowing fully well that he would catch me before long. This has always been the stretch where I have lost time in the past, and this was no exception. However, I pushed the pace a little, trying to gain some time, and this had disastrous consequences. Shortly before the return trek on W Snoqualmie Valley Road, my left leg started troubling me too. It wasn't the knee, but rather the outside of the right knee right where the upper part of the leg attaches to the lower part of the leg (hey, I am not a doctor).

I slowed the pace down, and stopped to stretch the IT Band. Mark caught me just as I started back up, and rode with me for a while. My evening plans included the Nutcracker at McCaw hall (My wife's company Christmas Party), and Mark's included dinner with friends. After asking me to raise my saddle a little bit, Mark took off. Did I stop and raise my saddle? Nope. I was quite sure that it wasn't anything to do with fit. After all, I had completed a 1000 with this same fit. Near Sandy's, my right knee started hurting a "tad". I didn't have time to stop and have coffee at Carnation. I was riding slower than 15kmph now as I ignored my legs' request. This weather may not come around again. I did stop and stretch a few times.

The climb up to the falls, was not quite as bad I thought it would be. I half expected to not encounter Mark on his way back from North Bend, but I did see him in Snoqualmie, shouting encouragement. When I got to North Bend, I was thankful for the break.

North Bend to Redmond

A sane man would have bagged it here. Home wasn't that far off. I thought about the weather, the R-24, and plodded on after about a 10 minute break. Darkness was falling all around us and Mt Si was lit up beautifully from the setting sun. I was running late, and didn't manage to win any brownie points on this ride, that's for sure. I don't remember much of the details of this section, except to say that I tried to find every conceivable leg position, pedal action and muscle pressure. The final solution (shudder!) was to move my knee towards the top-tube, and not apply any pressure at all on the downward stroke of my right leg. This gave me relief from the pain, but the pace was horrible. I finally arrived at the Fred Meyer about 11 hours and 45 minutes after I started. I was running late for the Christmas Party and in some pain.

My left knee hurt, but my right knee was in a class apart. I saw a doctor, and have been recommended Physical Therapy, and a bike fit at the hands of Mr Erik Moen.

Nutcracker Update

I came home, showered and very quickly set off for Downtown Seattle. We were quite late to the Christmas Party and all the vegetarian food was gone. Nice! To top matters off, I kept nodding off during the Ballet, and despite my wife's best attemts at keeping me awake by nudging, hitting, and tapping all failed. I don't think I am a ballet man.

Knee Update

Having been thoroughly freaked out by the experience, I visited Erik Moen at Corpore Sano, and got a bike fit. He was aghast at my bike fit. My self-guided idiocy was hard on his eyes, and he set me up the right way (My saddle was raised 3 cms). The benefit he said, will be better climbing ability and better speed. I have been cleared to ride 10-20 miles on flat lands only. My January permanent is now under serious jeopardy. However, all this snow and ice has meant that I haven't been out to test my new position.

Happy 10th Birthday, RUSA!

Many thanks to Eric Vigoren, Maggie Williams and Peter Beeson for organizing an awesome ride. There was another woman volunteering at both the bad carb and good carb controls, but I didn't catch her name. Thanks go to her too! A very enjoyable day.

Prologue

It has been 10 years since RUSA came together thanks to a few visionary randonneurs and randonneuses. To celebrate this August (pun intended) occassion randonneuring clubs across the nation organized rides, and the Seattle Randonneurs were no exception, hosting a 100k populaire and a 200k RUSA brevet out of Bremerton. Lured by the tantalizing pictures of the medal, I set out to ride to the ferry terminal from my house in Kirkland, at 2.35 in the morning. The roads were mostly without traffic, and the highlight was the 45 mph swoop down Kamber Road in Bellevue. Some things are worth climbing for. I reached the terminal at 4.05a, a bit too early for my tastes. I could have had atleast 30 minutes more sleep. Several riders showed up slowly, but I can happily say that I was the first. I was wearing the SIR wool jersey, but had my Canada Goose jersey in my saddlebag as insurance. However, I had forgotten my camera, and lousy cellphone photos would have to do. I can imagine Dave Read chuckling.

I didn't realize this at that time but I would also go over 10,000k in brevet/permanent distances, if I successfully completed this brevet. Now, when compared to the accomplishments of several randonneurs, this is a very puny milestone indeed. Karen Smith completed 40,000 brevet kilometers last year, and Ken Bonner has probably a million kilometers under his belt. But 10,000 was where I was, and I hope the next 10,000 doesn't take 5 years!

People slowly started arriving at the ferry terminal, and I sat and chatted with the riders who arrived. When the counters opened, I went first to pay, and the woman asked me if I was paying for everybody. You should have seen the look on her face when I said "No". The huge number of cyclists completely swamped her, and I am sure they had fun with the 30 or so cyclists each paying individually. Is there a better way ?

Registration and Start

We registered on the ferry, and Peter Beeson took our money and made us sign autographs, and arranged for some entertainment from a fully stoned young man on the ferry ride to Bremerton. There were about 40 riders at the start, and I spotted several familiar faces: Robin and Amy Pieper, John Vincent, Dan Turner, Chuck Pailthorp, and a few others. A few words from Eric about the route, and we were sent off in one big bunch. The first hills on SR 3 had me at the back of the pack, my rightful place. Huge warships lined the Bremerton waterfront to our left, as we headed on "familiar" roads (we had just ridden this stretch on the Tahuya 200k). A very relaxing stretch along the waterfront with Dan Turner later, we were at the Bad carb Control, staffed by several people, including Peter, Maggie Williams and Eric Vigoren. The cookies were delicious, but the strident calls for poetry began to be heard. Paul Johnson pulled in, and then pulled out immediately afterward. That was the last I was to see of him.

Bad carb control to Good carb control

Thoroughly sated, and fully protected from the sun, I set off with Dan, who promptly dropped me while cheating with his aerobars. Banner Road certainly caught my attention, but thankfully it was only a mile and half or less. The info control question was a big vague, and I put down both possible answers to it, while promptly spilling the entire contents of my wallet on the ground. Charles Pailthorp, the genial professor from Olympia (who makes killer fruit smoothies) picked the contents up for me, and we left the control with cries of "Bring back Fleche Gordon's space cadets". True to the words on the cue sheet, we endured the rolling hills, some better than others, and it is a very easy guess as to how I endured them. The day was warming up and that proved to be a challenge as well.

SR 106 has some of the nastiest chipseal and I made my way to the control, hoping all the while that history would not repeat itself: I have suffered flats each of the last three times I have cycled along this route (though in the opposite direction everytime). Thankfully, my luck held, and I didn't suffer any flats. A lot of riders were making their way back to SR3, and Shan Perera was ahead of almost everybody. The good carb control was at Twanoh state park, which is right on the waters of the Hood Canal. There was a new, massive landslide across the water on US 1o1, and I wondered about how they had patched the road up. Riding the North Hood Canal permanent seems to be imminent. Responding to comments that I look "toasty", I took off my wool jersey, and donned my Goose jersey, to which Robert Higdon remarked "Keep it on buddy". Ouch! I had a two V8s, some chips, some bananas and a bagel. I bonked a little before the control, and wanted to make sure that I was well fuelled.

Good Carb control to Camp Union grocery

After enduring several requests to write poetry, but hardly budging, I set off to do the Tahuya portion of the ride, on many new roads. Accompanied by a hot sun, and a nice westerly wind, progress was somewhat unspectacular, but the sight of the day was the wooden bicycling sculpture advertising some local politician. I hope she wins!

The turn onto Old Belfair road was not so hard to spot anymore (not to Matt Mikul however), and as I was merrily chugging along when I was caught by the ever smiling Ray McFall, who aparently did some "bonus" miles. "How is your navigating?" he asked. I replied that I was slow but not that bad at navigating, and he responded by staying with me till the turn onto Bear-Creek Dewatto Road. This road however starts climbing at a decent clip into the hills of Tahuya, and even though we both were seriously bothered by the heat, Ray pulled away. I plodded along, stopping at whatever shade I could find. The road gently climbed after its initial assault, into logging territory, just like any other road in Tahuya. We were blessed with some new and nice views of the mountains, before the control at Camp Union. Ray was chilling out there, pointing me to water and a nice bag of ice left behind by some kind soul.

Camp Union to Liquid Carb control

I filled my CamelBak with water, drank about a liter of it, and then proceeded to fill it with water again. After I filled the bag with water, I put some ice between my back and the plastic to cool me down further, as I rode further. Ray set off before me, but I got my card signed and took off into the heat of the day. We may have left the general vicinity of the Tahuya Hills, but the climbing had not come to an end. Eric does not organize "cake walk" routes, that's for sure.

On Clear Creek road, the first mechanical problem of the route reared its head. When shifting up from the granny to the middle chainring, the chain slipped and fell between the small chainring, and my chain stay and lodged firmly there. Attempts to pedal my way out of it didn't help, and it only got further lodged in. I laid the bike down, and then after several attempts finally got the chain free and back on the middle chainring. Of course, Clear Creek also featured some headwind, but the downhill on Sherman Hill was lovely. I saw a huge group of 100k riders at the Bond Road intersection, and recognized Mark and Chris Thomas.

Big Valley road, although mostly flat, had some wicked headwind, and I was clearly not my best here. I suspect I was bonking here, as the road didn't seem particularly harsh, and I remember it fondly from previous brevets. I stopped at the info control, and was now on some very familiar roads. The last few miles of my first ever 600k was in these parts, and I remembered being passed by Chris Menge just before the Hood Canal turn.

I saw the huge giraffe, but went toward the driveway past it, but I had to turn back around to head to the control, where I was met by Eric and Peter. Jon Muellner was fixing a flat, and set out before me. This control was awesome, and I spent a little too much time here. I drank a small beer (which I almost never do) to celebrate RUSA's 10th birthday, compliments of the club. This beer at controls is a fabulous idea. Maybe we should have them at the end of 600 PBP qualifiers! I stuffed myself silly at this control: courtesy of some veggie dogs which Eric very kindly made, Sprite, Chips and water, I was a new man! I spent about 25 minutes here but what the heck? It's not often that RUSA celebrates its 10th anniversary! In fact, after careful analysis, I concluded that it would only happen once.

Liquid carb control to the finish.

"How good are you at navigating?" asked Dan. Hadn't I been asked this question already? Dan dropped me (again!), and I could not catch upto him, despite his stopping to lend Jon Muellner a tube. Poor Jon was fixing another flat! Tyre woes! It would have been nice to stay with him, but he assured me he was okay. After helping Dan with the left turn onto SR 308, I slowed down to enjoy the ride , as I was not going to make the next ferry anyways. The nasty bad pavement towards the end was a downer, but I made it to the finish in 11 hours and 5 minutes. A fantastic way to spend a day on the bike!

Happy Birthday, RUSA! I have to wait 10 years for the next Anniversary ride ? Bummer.

The Tahuya 200K

Prologue

Having successfully completed my R-12 quest, it was time to enjoy the brevet season one more time. I rode the 8 miles or so to the Starbucks near Lake Forest Park, and Wayne Methner gave me a ride to the West Seattle ferry terminal. We talked about our riding so far, and it was pretty much the same thing: life getting in the way of riding. We got to the ferry terminal with plenty of time to spare, and rode down to the start from the parking lot, and found a gaggle of randonneurs. I chatted with Mike Richeson and John Morris, whose company I have only experienced at the start of these rides. The ferry crossing was great. This was going to be a mixture of old and new routes for me, and I was looking forward to a nice ride. Even if the fact that Mark Thomas took 13 hours to complete this ride indicated I would most likely end up with a Hors Delais.

Start to Purdy

After some pre-ride instructions from Peter McKay, who referred to this ride as a certifiable "Ball-buster of a ride", we all set off. It takes me a while to warm up, and the rolling terrain meant that I was very quickly spit out the back. I settled into a comfortable rhythm on the rollers that marked the first few kilometers, but I misread the sign for Olalla Valley road and wondered if I was going in the right direction. I shouted this thought out as I passed Tom Barocan on a sweeping downhill, thinking I would have to climb this hill if I was wrong. I needn't have worried because the road only went that one way. However, this little logical gem didn't hit me as my brain was addled without the effects of Caffeine. The faster riders had long since vanished, but Bill Gobie, myself, Jeff Loomis and Chuck Hoffman were all strung out on the roads within sight of each other. The roads were bereft of traffic, and new roads are always a joy to ride in. The 0.4 mi stretch on Burley Olalla Rd caught my attention courtesy of the short-but-steep climb to the turn onto Fagerud road. The tone of the day's ride had been set. A few of the roads on this stretch had very Scandinavian names.

The first inkling of the existence of cars in this world came on 144th Ave, which had a steady stream of traffic. Peter and Amy passed me just before the route left 144th, in a car stuffed to the gills with control paraphernalia. I knew I would be seeing them before long. I caught upto Jeff Loomis near Carr Inlet and had a nice chat with him, soon lost him and managed to reel him in, only to lose him again. The route was relatively flat till the first control, where I found a huge group. I had my sights set on a short stop, and was quite pleasantly surprised that I had made pretty good time to this control, getting there at 8.35 or so.

Tom Barocan is visiting India and wanted to talk to me about this...

Purdy to Kay's Corner

I refilled my CamelBak, bought food, and rushed out to the roads, after bidding bye bye to Bill Gobie, knowing that he would catch me in no time. He was riding strong. About a mile out of the control, I reached in my back pocket to get some food, and quite annoyingly couldn't find it. Of course, I had paid for my food and left it behind at the counter. Very smart. I rode back and saw some riders wondering where I was going and I had to fess up. Bill and Tom were still there, and I quickly picked up my food, and went in the wrong direction. After about a 100 yards, I realized that I was going in the wrong direction, and turned myself around. My navigational brain was mostly unavailable.

The road seemed wet, but there was no rain. Ten pleasant kilometers later, I found myself on SR3, leading into Belfair. I took the previous turn than the one I was supposed to (the easy to miss turn), but quickly corrected myself when I saw the yellow "Dead End" sign. Shortly after this I left the world of smooth pavement, and entered the world of chipseal. Now, if you have ridden this particular part of the world before, the surface may not surprise but is sure to shock. SR 300 had a fresh coat of chipseal. The other thing is the absolutely certainty of you being accosted by a bad driver. Luckily, I got mine out of the way, right after I started on SR 300. Let's just say that the driver's horn was stuck and he could not find a way to get it unstuck.

I was completely alone on this stretch, and I looked south to see SR 106 snaking its way along the South shores of the Hood Canal. More housing developments could be seen on the hills along the highway, but the road I was on, the North Shore road seemed mostly unchanged. A gentle mist provided some wetness, but no water droplets. North shore road was quiet, except for people mowing their lawns, and coming outside to get their newspapers. The miles ticked away and pretty soon I was at Kay's corner, to be pampered by the volunteers who staffed this control: Amy Pieper, Peter McKay, "Sandwich man" Robin Pieper, iPhone photographer Mark Thomas, Eric Vigoren, his dog, and "Write a poem!" Maggie Williams.

Kay's Corner to Seabeck

I forgot the time I got here, but I had gained some more time. This boded well, as I was not hoping to gain any time in the next 50 or so kilometers. Robin made me a fantastic PB&J sandwich (I was one of the very few creamy PB takers), which I ate along with a Granola bar, and some fruit. I had some Snickers bars in my back pocket. Robert Higdon was working on his rear wheel at the control. Bill Gobie, John Vincent and Chuck Hoffman all rolled in minutes after me. After hanging out for about 10 minutes, I took off. No time to be wasted. Chuck Hoffman impressed me by staying less than 5 minutes at this control.

I caught up with Chuck shortly afterward on an uphill stretch, and we were riding together when a young dog [often referred to by the moniker "puppy"] came towards us. I had heard tales of a monster lurking at the base of Holly Hill, but this was way too early. I yelled at the top of my lungs as I passed the dog, and it had the undesired effect of making Chuck jump. I didn't scare the dog, but I sure got Chuck's attention.

Now, there are some secrets to riding the Tahuya Hills. I didn't know any better the first time I rode through these hills, and they ate me alive. I hope you are paying attention because I am not saying this again: Fresh tyres, food, water, and bombing down every single downhill so you have enough momentum to climb the uphill. You can dispatch about 90% of this hills on this leg, if you follow this simple advice. Of course, Dewatto Road will make you cry for your mother, and Seabeck Holly Road is a beast, but most of the roads are handled thus. This being my fourth go-around through this area, I was well armed with food, water, fairly new tyres, and the right attitude. Doing hill repeats up the Winery hill (Chateau St. Michelle) probably also helped.

What Tahuya takes away in terms of hills and pavement, it gives back in scenery and lack of traffic. There was quite a lot of cars parked on Tahuya River Road, and it looked like they were hunters. I saw a dog walk back towards its master with a rabbit in its mouth. But, I could be wrong. This was the first time I have seen more than 10 cars in Tahuya.

I was passed by a blue jersey on Dewatto road, but it turns out he was not on this ride, but lived locally and was out for a ride. He was surprised to see a control at Kay's corner. He wished me well, and left me behind. The floods of last year had affected this area pretty badly, and the scars were there in plain sight. Mudslides, washed out roads, and hitherto unseen stop signs for one-way traffic. The hill past Bear Creek - Dewatto Road got my attention as it always does, and this was one of the few hills that I crawled up on. I stopped to eat something just before the great climb on Seabeck-Holly road, and saw Robert Higdon at the bottom of Holly Hill with a dog running towards him, and knew that the monster had returned. He stopped to take a picture, and rode off.

I charged towards the hill with all the speed I could muster, and yelled at the top of my lungs, and the poor dog ran away into the thickets, not wanting to deal with another brown behemoth on two wheels. Of course, all my momentum came crashing down on the hill, and I crawled up the incline, fighting every pedal stroke, and every breath. This hill is always hard. I pity the riders who do loops on this course, in the annual Tahuya-Seabeck-Tahuya Road race (TBT, if you will). By the time I made it to the top, Robert was nowhere to be found. It usually takes me a good 3 or 4 miles to recover from Holly Hill, and this time was no different. Peter and Amy passed me just past Holly Hill, shouting words of encouragement, but it didn't help my speed any. I slowly plodded my way to Seabeck, expecting the downhill to start anytime now. However, it took forever for the road to decisively point downward. I tucked in, and let it rip, dropping several cars, foolish enough to try and keep up with me. I rolled into the Seabeck General store, and found out that I had banked a further half-hour. This has never happened to me, and I was pretty happy about that.

Seabeck to Lofall [Union 76 Minimart]

The store owners of the Seabeck General store have always laid out a welcome mat for SIR riders, and we in turn have managed to not ruin our reputations. The display case at the store features two cups, proudly displayed for one to see. The store owner, was chatting outside with Robin Pieper. The fantastic four (Robert Higdon, Matt Mikul, Chris Gay and Joby Dorr) were at this control, as was Albert Meerscheidt. Matt laughed about every rider walking into this control being worried about Anderson Hill Road. Chuck Hoffman pulled in about 10 minutes after I did. I refilled water using Peter McKay's supplies, got some food (and took it with me!), and took off for the most infamous 4.3 kilometers in SIR lore.

I survived the next 4.3 kilometers, with the last hill really kicking my butt. My chain dropped off once when I tried to shift too quickly, and I stopped under the pretext of having to fix my chain. This happened again on the next steep climb. I finally made it to the turn onto Olympic View Road, which indicates the end of the worst hills on the course. Or does it ? For some weird reason, I have always been slow on Clear Creek Road. Last years 600 was the first time, and this was the second time. The wind was unfavourable too. I spotted Robert Higdon first and Albert Meerscheidt next, fixing flats on this stretch. There was quite a large amount of glass on this road. Robert looked very disconsolate. I should have stopped to chat with him, but somehow didn't. I limped my way in to the next control, my average speed being about 15 kph. I pulled into this control wanting water, and food, and something salty.

Lofall [Union 76 Minimart] to the Finish


Lofall is the town featuring the controle. I could only think of offal. Pardon me. I bought some jojo's and some water. The heat took my desire to eat Snickers bars completely away, and I longed for a PB&J sandwich. I must have made Robin make me another one for the road. I filled up on water and left this control in record time, spending under 5 minutes at this control. Chuck beat me again though, spending less than a couple of minutes. I never saw him again until the finish. The day was now hot, and I was sweating profusely, and going through water fairly rapidly. My poor riding speed continued, and I limped my way through Chico way. I should have probably stopped to eat something cold somewhere, but I wasn't very keen on stopping. I was keen on finishing.

Silverdale, came and went, its lack of shoulders and high traffic a bit disconcerting, but traffic was uniformly courteous. Lots of cars before the turn onto Chico Street for some reason. I was amused by the name Chico; it was the silly nickname of a neighbourhood boy (and his brother, Bingo, both of whom I hated!). I had completely forgotten their nicknames, and Chico street reminded me of both of them. Go figure!

I got on SR3, and a few cars started honking their horns, as if to warn me that I was prohibited from riding on the freeway. The shoulder was littered with debris, and a short bridge with a narrow shoulder provided some quickening heartbeats, but it was nothing to be scared of. I was mostly scared of getting a flat, not by the traffic. Ditto for SR16. When I got to Tremont St, I could smell the barn, and tried to ride as fast as I could. I stopped on Lund street (which also made me chuckle, but I won't tell you why!) to call Wayne Methner, and ask him to leave without me. I had not seen him at a single control, and it didn't make any sense for him to wait around for me just because I was a slowpoke.

SE Mile Hill reminded me of Port Gamble, with its long climbs which one could see from miles away. Not as vicious, but it definitely was not an easy ending to a hard ride. I rode through two solid patches of glass, and started wishing that I would not get a flat so close to the end, and thankfully I didn't. I caught up with a gentleman riding a road bike, who turned out to be a ferry worker. He was quite interested in the activities of randonneurs and SIR in general, and had met several of us in the morning.

The last miles featured more rollers, but the smell of the barn was too strong. I finished to applause I might add, from the spectators at the finish: Amy, Mark, Peter, Robin and a few other riders who were waiting for the ferry. A V-8, some sprite and more food later, I was happy again. Had a good time chatting with Albert and Amy. It was a fun but hard ride indeed. 8300 feet of climbing, give or take. Final time: 11 hours and 6 minutes (which translates to 666 minutes). Albert Meerscheidt finished, despite all his punctures, only 5 minutes after me. Robert Higdon, much to his credit, considered DNFing, reconsidered, and rode to the finish. Way to go!

I caught the next ferry, and rode leisurely to Downtown Seattle with Mark, who then gave me a lift home. Now, I get to write a ride report as a poem. I suggest you buy a vial of cyanide and keep it handy. Don't blame me, blame the newsletter editor.

My first R-12!

July 20, 2008: Prologue



The first time I heard about this R-12 thing, I thought it was crazy. Riding in the cold, icy months weren't very appealing, and so I conveniently filed that under the "I am not doing it because it is too hard" category. It's funny how repeated mentions on the SIR mailing list and casual conversation can force you to refile things under the "I wonder if I could do it" category! Several of our club friends and American Randonneur reinforced the opinion that R-12 honorees from the Pacific Northwest were studs. Keen to prove my stud credentials, I started my R-12 quest in March of 2007.

And then the "I am not going to France because of the USCIS" malaise hit me, and I forgot to ride a single 200k in July of 2007. Oh well! Started again in August of 2007 with the 400k ride of Poor Man's PBP, organized by the Oregon Randonneurs. Peg W, ever the subtle motivator, told me that I was being "crazy", trying to ride outside during the winter.

This July is my final 200 towards my first R-12. I was planning to ride the Tahuya 200, but I wasn't sure I could finish that ride in time (my confidence is at an all time low), and as insurance I planned to ride a permanent the weekend before, and picked a "new" permanent: Redmond-Carbon Glacier. Thai Nguyen, Shan Perera and Galvin Chow are perpetual riders of this route that takes you through Issaquah, Cumberland, Buckley, Enumclaw, Wilkerson and Carbonado, to the lovely Carbon Glacier entrance on Mt Rainer National Park, and then back. They were full of praise for this route words. I'd never ridden this route before, so I looked forward to some new, some old, roads.

Start to Cumberland

I set off from home for Sammamish Valley Cycle, around 6.45 in the morning. The air was chilly, and the descent down the winery hill was cold. I stuck to the trail, and saw the earlybirds running and cycling along. A couple of miles after I entered the trail, I was forced to stop for geese crossing the trail, a once in a lifetime shot that my early-morning-brain failed to recognize. That moment is lost forever! When I got to the start at around o710 the shop was closed! I knew this, so, I visited the nearby coffee store, Victors to get my receipt. Victor's Celtic Coffee is very highly recommended. It is the creme de la creme of local coffee houses!

The day was forecast to be warm, so I had taken my CamelBak, but forgotten my camera. The wussy cellphone camera would have to suffice. The route starts off completely flat, save for a few bumps on East Lake Sammamish Parkway, and I made pretty good time to Issaquah, which was just barely awake as I cycled through. The roads were empty, and I knew that it would be a handful on the return journey. I passed the Darigold plant on Front Street and thought about the vast amounts of Chocolate milk consumed on randonneuring rides across North America. These guys should sponsor us! The first real turn after getting onto East Lake Sammamish Parkway would be the left turn onto Kent-Kangley Road, and so there is a minimum of navigation required to the first control at Cumberland.

Lapsed Randonneur Kent Peterson lives in Issaquah, and as I crossed Sunset Way, I thought of him. I came into randonneuring reading Kent's mentions (and reports!) of PBP on the touring mailing list. Kent has been nothing but helpful whenever I have approached him for help, and it would have been nice to have shared this day with him. However, Kent is no longer a member of RUSA! Terrible! Come back Kent!

South of Issaquah, the first few rollers are encountered, a recurring theme through several sections of the route. Not new roads by any means, as this permanent is a combination of some of the roads from last year's Spring 600 and the Greg Cox 200 out of Kent. The terrain was rolling, and had very few true flat spots, and there was almost no traffic for much of the morning. Lots of cyclists were out enjoying the day, capped off by the two lovely ladies who passed me on the uphill just before the turn onto Kent-Kangley road. There was a nice tailwind going to Cumberland, but these being the summer months, a headwind on the way back was inevitable.

I reached the first control at around 9.55a, a bundle of sweat.

Cumberland to Carbon Glacier

The Cumberland store functions as the control, and since a lot of riders do this permanent, the store owner at Cumberland was more than conversant with who we were. He had nothing but glowing words for the behaviour of past permanent riders, which is always good to hear. I didn't expect anything else. I called my wife to let her know I was making good progress, and set out, spending not more than 10 minutes off the bike.

Familiar roads followed but not for very long, and the stretch on SR-410 was fairly high in traffic, not to mention the presence of "objectionable" members of the passenger population. Some yelling, some screaming, some cussing, but little in the way of harm. I was glad to get out of this road, and onto SR-165, which features moderate traffic, but the vehemence of the drivers on SR-410 was missing.

I think the beauty of the next 16 or so miles cannot be overstated. It starts out being very ordinary, but rises to a crescendo in the last 13 miles. Great scenery with decreasing traffic the further you went along, this stretch was truly enjoyable. I would recommend refilling water at Wilkerson. I ran out of water at Carbonado and turned around to get some water at the house of a very helpful gardener. "If you run out of water on the way back", she said, "feel free to stop by and use my hose again". Her help and friendliness were most appreciated, on a hot day, and made the next 10-odd miles even more enjoyable. SR-165 soon transforms itself into a twisty narrow two lane road which gradually snakes its way up to the turn onto Carbon River Road and features great views of the flowing river. It also features a narrow bridge which accorded great views of the surrounding hills.

Carbon River Road has an even lower volume of traffic, which I am sure none will complain about, but gently tilted up in the direction of travel. More chance to enjoy that scenery I keep yammering on about. The chipseal was only a minor deterrent, and progress was strong towards the end of the road. There are some road markings which inform you of the distance to the end, but those are for some ride that stops about a mile short of our intended destination, the Carbon River Ranger station. Just before the control, somebody had drawn the male anatomy using a spray gun. I chuckled to myself as I rode past, hoping that this little piece of "art" wouldn't survive for long.

I finally got to the control around 12:20p, and wrote down the info control answers. I visited with a couple of New York, who had driven across America, and were now going back to New York, through Canada. They were very interested in what I was doing, and I chatted with them about our sport, the places one should not miss in Canada [Icefields Parkway], and was glad to find that they planned to go along that way too.

Carbon Glacier to Cumberland

I knew the next few 15 or so miles would be mostly downhill, and I was eager to enjoy the tranquility of these roads again. I hammered the downhill to SR-165 and stopped for a picture of the narrow bridge. The days heat had started melting the tar and as my bike went over the little bubbles that form on such days, I could hear their pops. Since I had water, I didn't bother to stop in Carbonado, and thinking I had enough water and feeling good, I rode on without stopping at Wilkerson, which in hindsight was a colossal mistake. I had food, but I ran out of water about a couple of miles past Wilkerson, and suffered in the heat of the day. I should have made excellent time back to Cumberland, but somehow it took almost the exact time to head back to Cumberland as it took to get there from Carbon Glacier, this despite the route back featuring a large downhill section. I resolved to get water at Wilkerson from now on, no matter how good I felt.

I finally got to Cumberland around 2.45p.

Cumberland to the Finish

I really wanted to see if I could crack 10 hours on this ride, but unfortunately, I had lost that opportunity on the stretch back to Cumberland. I sat down and ate some food inside the store, as the heat outside was not inviting. Cold water, some nuts and an ice cream later, I was ready for the ride home. The wind had picked up, but luckily it became a cross wind, which wasn't that bad. I was on the home stretch to finishing up my R-12 and that felt good.

There was a 10 minute construction fuelled delay near Issaquah, which allowed me to eat some more and drink some more, but the days heat was getting to me. I dreamed of stopping somewhere out of the sun for a while, and sure enough there was a McDonald's on East Lake Sammamish Parkway. Not my preferred stop, but I got some ice-cold water, gratis, out of their soda fountain, and chilled out while feasting on an Apple Pie. I spent about 20 minutes here, and then finally took off for the home stretch.



Through the efforts of one Ms Amy Pieper, SIR is the adoptee of a section of road on East Lake Sammamish. I stopped by the sign to adore it, gloat and take a picture. I remembered that cold morning that we gathered together, to clean our stretch for the first time. I was in a cheerful group and we got through our portion in no time at all, sorting garbage and recyclables. I wasn't in town for the second cleaning, but will not miss it the next time.

Traffic through much of the core area of Redmond was busy, but around 5:51p I turned onto Sammamish Valley cycle, and my R-12 quest was over! Well, I need to start R-12 quest #2. It was a beautiful route, and I highly recommend you check it out someday. It features an average amount of climbing, and features great scenery. What's not to like?

A sneak peek at the 200k brevet.

Many a theory has been proposed about why 218th Ave is named the way it is... I spent the better part of 12 minutes climbing this little nugget of a hill and I came up with a few....

* The number of times you will swear at Greg Cox (unoriginal)
* The number of times I had to stop before I got to the top in 2006 (too inaccurate)
* The number of people who have died on this climb. (too dramatic)
* Distance in kilometers you will suffer AFTER you finish climbing this hill (perfect).

... and so on. If you do not know what I am talking about, next Saturday is a fine way to find out.

A fun bunch of randonneurs rode the SIR 200k pre-ride yesterday and lived to tell the tale. We met at the Cox residence and took off shortly after 7a. Since we started from the house, we got to climb an extra hill to the start as warmup. I DNF'd on this ride last year because I left an hour late and missed the first control by 12 minutes. That one stung! This time I arranged to be there on time, and leave on time, and yes, I did make all the controls on time.

We kept together until the little climb up Reith Road, except Mark who stopped to pick up a detached taillight (the tracks on 240th are deep). The sky looked ominous, but it was not raining quite yet. The weather forecast for today had varied so wildly that I brought everything, except a pair of gloves; I borrowed some from the host, and the spent the next 200k worrying about accidentally wiping my nose on my gloves (I didn't). We got some sprinkles on Dash Point road, but nothing to get us wet. Mark caught me just before the Town Center Foods control, telling me very kindly that I need not worry about taking the bus home, as he was not at his finest (ha!).

The speed at which this group of randonneurs cleared this control was impressive. I figured the others had gotten in a little earlier than Mark and I, but Mark got in, bought some Nesquick Chocolate Milk and took off, all in the matter of 3 minutes. I did the same, and the only people behind me were the Nussbaums. They of course caught me soon after the turn after I5, and dropped me on Green Valley Road, an idyllic stretch until you hit that climb up to Black Diamond. The climb lasted forever, but the Nussbaums proved hard to catch. I caught them just before the turn onto Highway 169, but they got ahead of me again just before the bakery.

Black Diamond Bakery is situated perfectly and has many redeeming qualities, chief among them being the BAKERY. I bought myself a Blueberry Strudel and a cookie, and proceeded to wolf them down as quickly as I could, but I still could not latch onto the group as they left. The food was great though I had to turn down Peter McKay's offer of free coffee. My sensitive stomach needed some babysitting (no Milk, only Soy Milk). I took off my jacket here as it had warmed up considerably.

Black Diamond represents a kind of transition point; from more houses to more open spaces, and far less traffic. After Black Diamond Ravensdale Road, the houses thin out and you get more fields and farms, which is a welcome change. It was good to be in this part of the world again. The turn onto the highway was the end of the fun though, and I suspect I was going through a micro bonk, not a good thing when you are faced with the climb to Mud Mountain Dam(n) Road. I suffered on this climb, and was the low point of the ride for me. In 2006, I averaged about 12kmph to Greenwater, but this year I was faster and it was mostly fun heading to Greenwater, with nice scenery and clear skies, even if the clearcuts were an eyesore. The river was beautiful and is sure to take your mind off the riding. I was filled with negative thoughts, and it got cold on this stretch. I saw the gang returning: Ward Beebe 10 miles ahead of me. But Mark and his group was only 4 miles ahead of me, and the Nussbaums had just left Greenwater.

I sat down to have some Gatorade and a Pay-day bar, and then took off. Bolstered by the nutrition, I pretty much hammered all the way to the top of Mud Mountain. This was great fun, and the reason why we do these rides. No need to get down on oneself. This is my 5th year randonneuring, and I still have not learned to recognize my low points. The descent on Mud Mountain Dam Road is exhilarating, but the curvy nature takes away the potential to bomb down without a care. There was some gravel too, and I was a bit more cautious. The rest of the riding to the control is all flat, and I got there a shade after 3.30, I think. The gang had all left.

I left almost immediately, filling my water bottles with Gatorade and munching on half a PayDay bar. It was only 20 miles to the finish, but I knew that a behemoth lay between me and the finish: 218th. But I also remembered two exhilarating descents, and sure enough, the descents on Whitney Hill Road and 212th were great fun.

The first part of 218th is flat, but right after that little bridge, the climb begins in earnest. I was at the lowest gear, but shifted up every once in a while to stand and "muscle" my way over. My admiration for people like Bob Brudvik (who rode today on Fixed/SS), increases by the day. I did make it to the top, and shortly after the turn I tried to shift to the big ring and my front shifter broke. Fantastic. just what I wanted! Thankfully it didn't break on 218th.

I had fantasized about finishing near 10 hours, but with the chain rubbing repeatedly against the cage, my speed tanked. I also didn't want to stand and pedal in case the darn thing completely gave away. The climb up to Greg's house was a little painful, but short. I finished in little over 10h 30m. A fine ride, on a fine day.

Ralph and Carol had bought some brownies, and they were delicious. We shot the breeze a little with Mark and Greg reminiscing about their Glacier 1000k ride last year. Mark outlined plans for the Fall 1000k, and it was scary. Let me put it this way: the Cascade 1000k will be easier than the fall 1000k. Eek!

Riders Greg Cox, Bill Dussler, Ward Beebe, Bob Brudvik, Ralph and Carol Nussbaum, Peter McKay, Mark Thomas, Rick Haight and myself.

Cruisin' the rivers with No Chain.

I had originally signed up to do the Fall 1000, but decided to opt out and do the Carbon River Permanent as a way to redeem myself, with Erik Andersen and Dave Read, but as the weather on Sunday was slated to be much worse than Saturday - where we would get a few rain-free hours at least- I chickened out and did the Three Rivers Cruise, a route that I was very familiar with. An easy way out to further my quest towards my first R12 award. Shane, Don Boothby, Jim Jensen and Mark Jackson were the other culprits, on a cloudy, rainy and at times cold day. We could see our breaths, and that remained true for much of the day.

This group had not seen each other for a while, and we all exchanged pleasantries. Don asked me if my Immigration mess would be cleared up by 2011, and if it did, he would see me at the start of PBP 2011. He has not yet done a 400, and wants to be all prepared before then. He also promised us a lot of bald eagles and warned us to get receipts at all the controls. This "get receipts or else" was news to me, as all I had done on prior permanents was to get a signature and then mail in my card at the finish. Have randonneurs started cheating? What is up with this?

We started a bit late, as I incorrectly mounted my front wheel. Some help from Shane and Mark, and we were off at 7.10a. Jim waited for a while, but decided to take off ahead of us: we would see him one more time, with him heading West on 20, a tad before Marblemount, and that was it. The four of us set off to sunny skies - yeah, right! - and rode together for the first little while, but our relative speeds quickly split us up. Mark and Don rode together, while Shane and I rode a bit ahead (but not by a lot).

Shane is a newly minted PBP ancien. A tough gent and your quintessential randonneur. Having carpooled together, I began the process of peppering him with an endless barrage of questions: the weather, the food, the people, ahem the hills, SIR's surprisingly high DNF rate, and the experience. It was fascinating to listen to him talk. We talked a lot about Paris-Brest-Paris, which he successfully completed in August in 89:47.

It was not raining when we started, but the cold hit first. About halfway into 530, is a beautiful mountain laden with snow, and the temperature drops here usually. My toes and fingers froze here, but we still plodded on. The rain started shortly after this stretch, but not threateningly so, and stayed with us until a few kilometers before the first control. Shane remarked that this was how it felt when the rain let up, on PBP, and that shut me up pretty good. A fine data point! I had brought along a fine complement of rain clothing, in the hopes of warding off the rain gods: 3 pairs of gloves, a synthetic long sleeved jersey, and the SIR Blue Jersey on top, with thick gloves and wool leg warmers. I had other accoutrements in my bag: A helmet cover, a short-finger glove, and my rain pants.

We reached the Darrington Shell gas station around 9.15a, which was control #1, and found out that Jim had left about 15 minutes earlier. After getting receipts and signatures, and fuelling ourselves, Shane and I left. Just as we were leaving Don and Mark rolled in, looking good. A blissful tailwind guided us all the way to the turn on to 20, as it usually does, and we enjoyed the scenery of the Sauk river as it flowed at levels considerably lower than when we had done this same ride in March. There were quite a few fishermen out today. Fall foliage was rich, with yellows and reds dotting the roads along Highway 530. Fog blanketed the mountains nearby, and rendered everything beautiful. I just love riding in fog!

We saw Jim shortly after we passed the Cascadian farms store, and that was the last we would see of him. A short little dalliance with the rain later, we were in Marblemount. Don and Mark rolled in shortly after we did, and declined an invitation to have soup with us at the diner down the street. Shane and I took off for the diner, and had some delightful soup: Tomato Basil for me, Squash for him, and Pomme Frites for the both of us. A delightful 45 minute stop, and definitely recommended. Shane had some coffee to warm himself up, and not wanting to upset the delicate balance that is my stomach these days, I drank warm water. Yuck!

The winds along 20 heading west can be brutal, but today was a gentle enough day, that we could see the falling leaves corkscrewing their way to the road below. Temperatures warmed up, the rain stopped, and no drivers harassed us, a first for me on this stretch. This stretch was also our latest nice pavement for quite a while, as South Skagit Highway was a 23-odd mile long beast, with the nastiest chipseal you can imagine.

We spotted Mark's and Don's bikes at the store just before the Concrete turn off, but didn't see them: they were probably in the store getting refreshments; this was the last we would see of them. Traffic was low, the foliage was again rich, and the chipseal was ever nasty, but we made it through S Skagit Highway in one piece, but not before enjoying a nice tailwind for the most part of that stretch.

A little stretching session before turning onto Highway 9 relaxed our muscles, and shortly after the turn, the rain began in earnest. I had stowed my rain jacket, but the rain was not as bad as to require a stop-and-don-serious-rain-gear, but the headwind was brutal at times. Proves that the wind on rides is a zero-sum game, and often times negative sum game. I thought of the folks doing the 1000, on 3 days worth of rain, and consoled myself.

I stopped to get some refreshments at a little store about halfway down Highway 9, and was sure that Shane had passed me in that time, so I started hammering away in the hopes of catching him. But as it turned out, he had not passed me, but was close by. A few rollicking descents later, I was on the home stretch to the control, but spotted Shane not 40 yards behind. Powerful rider that he is, he effortlessly caught me on the bridge above the train tracks, just before the finish, and we rode in together. A nice scenic, not too long ride. And I truly (really) never used the granny.

I had a Cinnamon Pastry, and Shane had an all-american Hamburger and French fries. Apparently Shane craves real food on rides, and recounted the pain he felt at Carhaix when he found out that the McDonald's was closed. Another funny story was of how Chantel (Mrs Balkovetz, and tri-athlete) bought 2 Hamburgers for Shane at the finish of PBP, and Jeff literally gulped one of them with this eyes. Shane gave him one. So, Jeff Tilden if you are reading this, you owe Shane a Hamburger. Just teasing.

A fun ride with not so great conditions. Perfect training! Maybe Carbon River for October?