SIR 600K: Taking the hard road home.

First and foremost, many thanks to all the volunteers and organizers of this ride. We could not have done this without you. Thanks for taking the time and spending the weekend for us. I qualified for PBP thanks to you, and hopefully this time around, I will actually get to go to Paris! ;)

Prologue

I was pretty nervous before this ride. The 200, 300 and 400 had got me walking my bike at least once, and on my knees more than once. I was nervous in 2007, but I was quite nervous for this one. I didn't think I'd get any sleep, and the thought of Tahuya after 500 punishing kilometers was more than my mind could handle. I steeled myself for the first sleepless 600 of my Randonneuring life.

Sorry about all the annoying references to 2007. This is my second attempt at this route, and I kept thinking about how the present compared with the past.

Day 1: Start to Buckley

There was a nice group of riders at the start; some were laughing, and quite a few lost in thought. I was one of the latter. Mark Thomas gave me both of the wool jerseys that I ordered, and I stashed them in the drop bag. I was carrying Sustained Energy, in the vain hopes that it would be rocket fuel; I had enough - I thought - to last me until the overnight in Elma. The idea was to just get water and move on at the controls. We'd see how this would work out. I had more in the drop bag to last me day 2. I left all the rain gear at home.

After the usual pre-ride instructions, we set off into the slightly chilly morning. The weather forecast was spectacular, atoning for the dousing we got during the latter part of the 400k. I was dressed in shorts and a short-sleeve jersey, and though I was cold for the first little part of the ride, it wasn't uncomfortably cold. I found myself stopped at several lights with Jan Heine. Imagine that?! Even as we hit the hill leading to the International district, a significant proportion was still within eyesight, but I probably had the lights to thank for that.

This section of the route used to be my commute when I lived in Factoria and worked in Downtown Seattle, so I knew it pretty well. Several randonneurs whooped it up in the tunnel leading to the I-90 bridge. I found myself riding with Lynne from Portland (riding her first 600), and Mitchel Schoenfeld, but Mitchel quickly outpaced us on the bridge, and Lynne outpaced me on the hill into Mercer Island. I was alone with my thoughts again. We made a wrong turn (repeat of 2007), and Jeff Tilden's hand circling the air told us to retreat to the North Mercer Way turn. I was still in contact with riders and this was an encouraging sign. We made it across the slough and then onto Lake Washington Boulevard. My thoughts were focused on Coal Creek Parkway (on which I sucked in 2007), but for some reason only one hill bothered me. These rollers have gotten easier. I had some trouble shifting into the granny (bad sign on this ride), but somehow made it up.

May Valley road was idyllic and peaceful, and a cop car followed us patiently along until it was safe to pass, going by with a wave. Lynne was riding smoothly, and somewhere ahead were Jeff and Mitchel. I knew that there would be a secret control someplace on May Valley road, and sure enough we stopped briefly when Elaine Jameson demanded we produce our cards and then sent us along after signing it. Jeff Tilden was now riding with us, and this was another good sign. Jeff was a great source of encouragement as I made my way up the rollers of Issaquah - Hobart Road. My chain popped off once and Jeff left me, dancing on the pedals as he muscled his way over yet another roller. I caught up with him and Lynne, and we rode all the way to Buckley. There was quite a crowd at Buckley. More good signs.

Day 1: Buckley to Eatonville

I had a decent cushion in Buckley; more than an hours worth. I was determined to make a quick stop at Buckley, and left after refilling my water bottles and buying a PowerBar. As I made the turn onto SR-162, I reached down to get some water, and came up empty! I had left my water bottles at the Buckley control. I quickly checked for my control card, but luckily I had picked that up! I cursed my carelessness at the control, and rode back, seeing all those who had left a few minutes behind me, explaining to everyone why I was riding in the opposite direction.

The store owners had kindly stashed my water bottles. I thanked them and made way again, and had wasted 20 minutes. I was quite mad at myself and had to to calm myself down; I need the nervous energy to fret about the ride. I had more granny trouble along the next few hills on Orville Road, but finally figured out how to get it to shift to the granny. Yaay for me! Traffic was less than courteous on Orville Road, but luckily I sucked less than on the Fleche. SR 161 brought me crashing down to earth, as the climb into Eatonville in the hot temperatures slowed me down terribly. The granny got a workout, and I made it into Eatonville, and found the Truly Scrumptious Bakery, for the very first time.

Day 1: Eatonville to Packwood

There were quite a few bikes at the bakery, and I found Andy Speier, Mitchel Schoenfeld, Jeff Loomis, Joe Platzner and Chris Heg finishing up their food and getting ready to leave. I ordered a Maple Bar, quickly wolfed it down, mixed up more Sustained Energy and took off. I had stopped for less than 10 minutes. I would have spent less, but I had to text my wife and updated Facebook. Ah, the perils of modern technology!

Lynne had gone ahead of me, and I probably would never see her again given our climbing discrepancies. I spotted Dan Jensen at the convenience store, and knew he would pass me sooner than later. I ground my way towards Highway 7, the temperature veering towards hot. Not bad though. I thought about stopping at Elbe, having already finished off both my water bottles, but had a brain fart and suffered on through to Ashford, where I got a 1.5 liter bottle of water and refilled my supplies for the Skate Creek Road climb. A motorcylist and his son sitting outside the store were all ears about all the cyclists on the road, and were quite surprised when I told them where we were headed. He seemed familiar with the Tahuya hills, and wished me luck. Dan Jensen pulled in just as I was leaving. I knew he'd catch me before long.

After I turned onto Kernahan Road a coyote crossed the road and headed into the undergrowth, traffic stopped, and the temperature though still hot seemed to cool down a little. That there were ample opportunities for shade probably also helped. Dan Jensen caught me here, and I was able to stay with him, either because he was feeling charitable, or I had found a hidden fount of strength that I was previously unaware of. I am thinking it's the former. Dan was motoring along, but at a slower pace than normal; he let on that he doesn't do well in the heat. Our pace, surprisingly, was compatible, and we made our way up the 11-mile climb at a decent pace. I had used my granny in 2007, but somehow was able to make it up on my middle chain ring this time. Thanks, Erik Moen!

Dan was the powerhouse on our Fleche team (William Tell's Arrow), and his familiar company calmed my nerves down a little bit. He is a great conversationalist and we chatted about one ride or the other, one thorny issue or the other. We even share a taste for the crass: we are both fans of South Park! We stopped to take a photo of Mount Rainier, and I knew that the "summit" was someplace close. As we got to the top, Dan and I bombed down to the bottom, oftentimes riding side by side. I probably made him hit more potholes than necessary by riding alongside him, but he didn't seem to complain. We got to Packwood in plenty of time, and found almost nobody there. Ok, first bad sign.

Day 1: Packwood to Centralia via Morton

Dan went to get real food, and I ate another PowerBar, and lubed up. In my insane quest to eat fast and leave fast, I ate my Bear Claw too fast, and was rewarded with a bout of nausea. I forgot that I have to slow down my eating in the heat. I have been faced with some chafing issues since I switched away from Bag Balm and started wearing new shorts, and I was determined to avoid this if at all I could. We left after 2o minutes; this was my first long stop of the day, but my spirits were buoyed a bit at having done the first 200k in 10:30. Things were looking good. This was my fastest ever 200 this year. The next stretch threatened to take it all away though.

I had been dreading this stretch ever since the route was announced; all I can remember of this stretch from 2007 is the heat and the headwind packing a one-two punch and transforming me into a sweaty miserable mess. I can still remember Jon Muellner pulling slowly away as I struggled to stay in his slipstream. This time however, the weather gods seemed to make up for that tour of misery. We had a rousing tailwind, and though the temperature was hot and the shoulder inhospitable in places thanks to irresponsible beer drinkers, we made excellent time. I tucked in behind Dan, and was towed at a very comfortable pace, first into Randle (where the temperature read 87 deg F), and after a nice series of hills, into Morton. I knew that relief was up ahead on SR 508, and then the piano would get dropped on our heads.

We hit Morton, and decided to stock up for the night because of the paucity of services leading into Centralia. It was a welcome break. I had a brain fart and got my card signed here. The question from the store clerk "What's this?" should have clued me in, but I must have been a bit out of it. I had (very) briefly entertained thoughts of a secret control on Alpha - Centralia Road and thought of riding on, but wisely remembered that there hadn'd been one in 2007. We ran into David Harper who was having stomach issues, but decided to join forces with us into Centralia. David is a very strong rider and we just mowed down that stretch of 508 before the first hills hit. David took off leaving me and Dan in the dust, but we reeled him in. I was feeling surprisingly good after the last few miles, using the granny not once. I knew I'd pay for this hubris on Day 2, but I was having fun. Dusk was creeping on, and we stopped at the intersection of Alpha - Centralia Road to put on our reflective gear, and turn on our blinkies for the night.

This was another stretch I had been dreading. In 2007, I had ridden this stretch with Allison Bailey, Peg Winczewski, and Allan deCamp, and gotten a few miles ahead on this road before night fell. I was just a few minutes off my 2007 pace! This was good. Very good. I was feeling really good on this stretch. The combination of Sustained Energy, and regular Nuun intake was fueling me really well. I even engaged in a little "King of the Mountain" point sprints with Dan, and he effortlessly dusted me a couple of times before letting me "win" a couple of times. ;)

David's stomach distress made a roaring comeback unfortunately; he started dropping back and I passed him hurling his guts out, and kept going albeit at a slower pace to give him some privacy. When I climbed up the umpteenth dip in the road, he was nowhere to be seen. But David is nothing if not persistent, and in a few minutes I'd see his light bobbing in the distance. We repeated this exercise a few times, and then completely lost sight of him near that rousing descent into Centralia. No deer this time! We arrived at Centralia at 10:30p to find Lynne at the Chevron eating some hot soup.

Day 1: Centralia to Elma

A few minutes after I got my supplies and lubed up again, David entered the store announcing "I am not done yet!". His confident manner gave me great hope that he would continue the ride with us. I was unable to find anything vegetarian and hot, and I settled for another PowerBar. David sat down to have a nap, and when the three of us (Lynne, Dan and I) were preparing to leave we asked him if he wanted to join us. David replied in the negative, but I was sure he would continue on after a few minutes rest. In hingsight, I regret leaving him behind.

We left after about 15 minutes and surprisingly caught sight of two blinkies in the distance: Corey Thompson and Joe Platzner. We joined forces, and started to nip away at the miles. Joe, Corey and Dan took some monster pulls: Lynne and I hung on for dear life. I found Joe to be pleasant and funny, and was a great source of encouragement and mirth. The chipseal roads of Elma Gate Road slowed us down, and we made the easily-missed turn onto Cemetery Road.

Just after we turned onto South Bank Road, I begged the three of them to back of the pace a little bit, and we slowed down for a while, stopped to eat and take a potty break. We left as a group, but Corey and Joe dropped back a little, and Lynne and I rode side-by-side talking about everything from Software Development at Microsoft (our little secret) to her kids' education and careers. We finally got to Elma at 1.30a. I had Five and a half hours in the bank. I was positively giddy.

Day 2: Overnight

Don Jameson and Ron Himschoot were manning the overnight control, and they quickly signed our cards and showed us to the food. I quickly ate some Pizza, and then Dan and I headed for our room, while Lynne headed for hers. I wasn't sure how long she planned to sleep for, but in hindsight it would have been good to synchronize our schedules so we could ride together.

I showered first, and then hit the sack, and then Dan showered, but my night was fitful as the third member of our room - whose name I never did catch - was a snorer. I even considered waking up and taking off, but put that thought quickly out of my head. We woke up at 5, and I was rather slow in the morning. I tried to leave the overnight with just a short-sleeve jersey, but Ron Himschoot in his inimitable style said "Your'e being optimistic", and then asked me to carry a long sleeve jersey to help against the cold. I was slower leaving, but Dan and I left at 5.35a, a full hour and half in the bank. This was a luxurious 600k!

Day 2: Elma to Potlatch

The air was chilly, and a bit of a fog hung in the air as we rode away from the overnight, the denizens of Elma long having hit the sack after a night of fun. Traffic was light, and lighter after the turn onto Cloquallum Road. We made decent time rolling uphill along the false flat, but two or three riders passed us, and I only seem to remember Chris Willett now. You know what they say about old age? Oh, I forget now.

Just past the jail and before the turn onto the overnight, we caught up to our companion of the night before, said our hello's and passed him. We were a little surprised when a few seconds later, he clicked up and took off. Randonneuring is not a race, right ? In any case, Dan quickly dropped me, and got into Potlatch. There was another huge crowd again here: Jennifer Chang, Corey Thompson, Joe Platzner, Andy Speier, and others. We had more than 2 hours in the bank.

Day 2: Potlatch to Tahuya via Belfair

I had a Subway Veggie Footlong sandwich, and SIR took over this little Subway; I was one of the first to leave, and enjoyed the views of the Olympic mountains across the Hood Canal. The waters were calm, and there wasn't a wisp of a wind. Dan caught up and we were a team again. The Corey-Joe-Andy-Chris-Unknown train passed us at great speed, and Dan and I watched it fly by giving us no chance to jump on. We caught the train at the Starbucks at Belfair, where it was refuelling. Andy, Corey and Joe were there again, having stopped for refreshments (and cigarettes?). We left after a 10-minute break.

That little road out of Belfair and into Tahuya has increased in busy and decreased in courtesy towards bicyclists. Dan and I were subjected to several honks and close shaves, but we rode on. It seemed to ease a little after we passed the turn onto Belfair-Tahuya Road, and this was a good thing. We made decent time to Tahuya, where we were met by a huge gathering of volunteers: Don and Elaine Jameson, Willard Goss, Pamela Creighton, and Rick Blacker.

Day 2: Tahuya to Seabeck

The Tahuya control is always an oasis, and I have great regard for those who staff it: it was hot. The wind coming off the canal cooled us a little bit, and I crashed on the chairs, as the volunteers attended to my every need: food, drink and shade. I ate prodigious amounts of food, mixed up more Sustained Energy, and got ready to leave. Jennifer Chang took off just before I did, but I never had a hope of catching her. I left a little before Dan, sure in the belief that like yesterday he would catch me before long. I was so focused on what lay next that I almost forgot to thank the volunteers, and their friendly calls to "Have a nice ride, Narayan" woke me up. I said my goodbye's and settled into getting my butt kicked.

No matter how you slice it, the Tahuya Hills aren't to be conquered; they are merely to be survived. I find that this line of thinking calms my nerves down. I tackled the first of the hills at a somewhat moderate pace. The day was quite warm, and the hills came one after the other. I remember the spot where Paul Johnson got a flat in 2007 and encouraged us to motor on. I saw quite a few cyclists in the opposite direction, all of them waving or saying hello. There was a short-but-steep stretch on Tahuya River Road that got me begging for lower gears, but I made it to the top just fine. I knew Dewatto Road would bring along some misery, with the hill just past the County line of the choice kind. I stopped in the shade for a little bit, but before long I was staring at the Olympic Mountains in the distance and the waters of the Hood Canal at my feet. I made it down the hairpin bends just fine, taking them at a nice sweep before I was greeted by the welcome chill from being near water.

I slowed down here a bit to recover for the next little bit, as I knew there were two monsters coming up: the county line hill and Holly hill. I expected Dan to catch up to me by now, but I didn't see him. I should have stopped to meet him, but I kept on, mindful of the fact that I usually lose time in the Tahuya Hills. Dewatto Holly Road is a gentle uphill at first, but that only hides what comes next. A little past Oak Lake the Mason-Kitsap county line hill looms, and with it comes one of the steeper climbs of the Tahuya hills.

As I was climbing the county line hill, a large group of cyclists bombed their way downhill. I made it up the county line hill very slowly - zigzagging once or thrice - and was met with a second group of cyclists. One of them recognized us and yelled "Go Rando!". I was still recovering from the climb, and only had a muted "hello" in return. Ok, one devil done, another one to go. I remember riding portions of this with Vic Ringkvist and Steve Hameister in 2007, and this time around stopped at almost the same exact spot to pee.

I was passed by a few riders on this stretch of road: Andy Speier and Joe Platzner coming to mind. Joe rode with me for a little bit offering encouragement and joking around and this helped me take my mind off the ride. This was the second time Joe would be a welcome break, and it wasn't the last time I'd view him as a welcome break either.

I finally made it to Holly hill and crawled my way up. Andy danced up the hill, and so did Joe. I zigzagged a few times, but traffic was rather heavy and I couldn't do it quite as many times as I'd have liked, but in the end I survived. This hill tends to be more of a drag mentally than physically as it doesn't last long enough to cause misery, but leaves a welt nevertheless. I felt the effects of this climb all the way to Seabeck, which of late has taken forever to arrive! Traffic has gotten heavier too. I finally arrived at Seabeck having lost a half-hour of my cushion.

Day 2: Seabeck to the Finish

There was a very healthy group of Randonneurs here; Corey Thompson mentioned that there was a good amount of soup and sandwiches available in the back, but I was in no mood to waste time here. A friendly face was at the counter, having signed numerous cards from years past. Jennifer Chang left just as I was about to buy my food - two bottles of Gatorade and a Bear Claw. Dan Jensen showed up just as I was leaving, and looking good. He said he had me in his sights a few times, but he either had to stop or I pulled away. I felt guilty hearing this as he had done so much to pull me into Elma, but I was again sure he would catch up.

I downed a bottle of Nuun, and then made my way out, leaving the big group behind. Some company would have been welcome but I didn't want to burn daylight. They could make time on the road; I couldn't aspire to. A first time rider of this course hears so much about the Tahuya hills that he (or she) is tempted to think that the ride is in the bag at this point, and that little remains between here and the finish really worth losing any sleep over. A good deal more lies ahead: Anderson Hill Road.

The first little climb out of Seabeck was a rude shock, but I knew what was about to hit me as I pedalled my way down the first hill on Anderson Hill Road. I made it up the first bump, grinding my way to the top. The second descent hit me, and I made it halfway up and was still pedalling when I saw Chris Willett walking his bike up the soft shoulder. There was no riding area on this section, and traffic was heavy and fast. I got off my bike and walked up all the way to the top of the second hill; even that was tough. I rode all the way up in 2007!

We finally got off Anderson Hill Road, and onto Olympic View Road, but the rollers of Clear Creek road lay next. The rollers here really slowed me down; my chain dropped off a few times, and the miles in my legs started getting to me. I remember thinking it is going to be a long way back to the finish, but Andy Speier came along and rode with me for a little bit, cheering me up and then taking off on a small hill. I finally made it to Highway 3, and another series of small hills. There was much talk of a humorous sign for Robert Higdon ("Roberto, embrace your inner kitten"), but I never saw it. Crap! Would have been a nice diversion.

A few miles before Port Gamble, Joe Platzner caught up to me, and was kind enough to ride with me to the control. I am sure he recognized that I needed a pick up. Even after almost 550k, he was full of cheer, wit and vivacity, and did a great deal to change my mood. He was full of jokes and stories; we made it to Port Gamble effortlessly.

Little known Rando Fact: Joe Platzner is all awesomeness!

I spotted Andy Speier and another rider leaving the control just as we arrived.

Day 2: Port Gamble to the Finish

I was determined to get in and out of this control quickly, but my stomach played truant. I had to use the restroom and use it bad. I was in decent physical shape, and in good spirits thanks to Joe. I bought some more Gatorade, and a bear claw and left the control. The first few miles on 104 were full of cars, but Port Gamble Road was a welcome turn. Traffic calmed and the hills returned. I had done well on this stretch in 2007, and 2011 was no exception. I found myself making slow but steady progress up the hills, and got over them in no time. I was making pretty good time for the ride, and harboured ideas of a sub-37 hour finish which would be a first in almost 4 years. :)

The rest of the ride was uneventful: I made it across the Agate Pass bridge in no time, and the rollers on Highway 305 were no big deal at all. I rode to the finish control to be greeted by a cheery Mark Thomas. A large group of riders finished 2 minutes behind me, and Mark joked that I hammered to stay ahead of them. My final time was 37:32, which was 40 minutes slower than 2007, but I think I spent more time at the controls this year. If you had told me two days ago that I would get 3 hours of sleep and spend 4 hours at the overnight and still finish in 37:32 I would have cried "Impossible!". I was near 37 hours if I had avoided that Buckley misadventure.

There was a great group of people at the finish: Chris Thomas, Mark Thomas, Lyn Gill, Corey Thompson, Jeff Loomis, Joe Platzner, Andy Speier, Bill Kennedy, Don Jameson and Jeff Tilden. More importantly, there was beer at the finish! I had a Guinness and loved it. Downed about 4 slices of Vegetarian Pizza. I got a shower and changed into decent clothing. Lyn was offering free massages to people, but I couldn't avail myself of that benefit. It was awesome of her to offer massages to the riders though. Thanks, Lyn!

Shortly after I finished, Dan Jensen and Lynne Fitzsimmons came in. Dan had suffered in the heat, but persevered and finished. Lynne rode strongly on both days and picked a tough course to do her first 600. Ken Krichman finished after her, and it was great to see riders come in with megawatt smiles on their faces. We were a bit worried about Duane, whom I hadn't seen at all at any of the controls.

We couldn't stay long though. We had a ferry to catch back home. We sat on the ferry exchanging tales about the ride and about PBP. Mark and Chris were very kind and offered Joe Platzner and I a ride home, on top of all the things they had done for us this weekend. Thanks very much! As we were on I-405 we got a call from Don Jameson that Duane had finished with three minutes to spare! Go Duane!

I am headed to Paris!!!

Summary of rides from March to May

Things have been quiet at RandoDud land. But that doesn't mean I haven't been out on adventures. It just means I've been a slave to work, and cataloguing my adventures has acquired a priority that I am not proud of. Let's go about rectifying that, shall we?

SIR 100K: It was a cold but clear winter day, and the weather got warmer and warmer until it felt like a crisp Spring day. Amazing. I rode with several people: Mike Huber and Millison Fambles on West Snoqualmie Road, some newbies, Don and Mimi Boothby near Sammamish, but finished with Mitchel Schoenfeld. Finished in about 5 hours and change. Met with a whole bunch of friends at the finish. Mike Huber bought me a beer. It was a fun day to be out on the bike.

SIR 200k: Kevin Humphreys gave me a ride north, and the Jenses provided the hospitality. We started off with a nice downhill, but you all know what that means for the finish right? Rode with Deirdre Arscott and Bob Lepage from Canada, and Ron. The ride had one mean b***h of a hill that made me walk. No shame in that. Mark was at the top taking photos. From Arlington, I rode with the Alaskans Jacques Boutet and his wife Donna and Jennifer Chang, but the whole train dropped me before I got to Granite Falls: Mark's new favourite haunt. It was absolutely a fabulous day by now, and we stripped down to just shorts and a jersey. The nasty hills North of Sultan slowed me down, but I met a rookie at the Sultan control: Kashina. She was riding strong, and left a bit ahead of me, but I managed to keep her in my sights until she dropped me just after the last info control. The hills to the Jensen's provided the last stumbling block, and but for a bad shift might have ridden up the whole hill, but my chain fell off my granny, and I was forced to walk for about 50 yards. Finished in 12:03. Not bad. Great day for a ride.

SIR 300k: Kevin again gave me a ride to the start, but this was a tough ride. I got lost and lost about 25 minutes, and did some bonus miles and climbing. I fought all afternoon to get an hour at Kayak Point, where volunteers Gary and David provided us with Bahn Mi sandwiches (yum!) from Saigon Deli. A bunch of school kids and their guide were all ears about our activity, and wished me luck. Near Mt Vernon, I hooked up with Ken Krichman and Jason Hansen, but the Dr dropped us on the steep hills out of Mt Vernon. We rode together almost all the way to hilltop control at Lake Cavanaugh, we had about an hour and half in the bank. Not bad, but the days climbing was taking its toll one me.

Darkness fell on us near Carnation, and we rode to the manned control with about 3 hours to go, and only 28 miles to go. We did leave together, and stayed together, but I suffered a flat just near that beast of a hill near Klahanie, and the Dr was getting antsy about finishing in time. We left together, but I had mounted the tyre the wrong way, and it was going kathump-kathump-kathump all the time. Just near the bike path, I lost sight of them, and then almost all the air in my front tyre. Took about 15 minutes to patch that, and there was only Duane behind me.

I got completely lost right off that steep hill off the I-90 bike path, and slowly limped my way home, getting lost several times near the U-district. I was near the Hec Edmundson bridge when I saw Duane riding ahead; he probably just took the trail all the way. I caught up to him, and we finished together: 25 minutes to spare. They had shut down the kitchens and we got no food. Duane gave me a ride home. I got my butt kicked on this one.

SIR 400k: I rode real strong until Concrete, and then Burbee Hill Road happened. Had to stop numerous times, and that road took its toll on me and slowed my journey to Baker Lake down. I got to Baker Lake in 10:36 and the proceeded to waste 35 minutes at that control; I must have really needed it. There was an awesome support crew there: Kole, Jennifer, Vincent and Theo from Portland, who had crashed within the first few miles, but had gallantly started volunteering.

I got back to Concrete, and Bill Gobie and I rode on South Skagit Highway until the first of the rain drops fell. We stopped to don all our rain gear, and then the skies opened up. Bill had eaten a burger at Concrete and that started bothering him. He started dropping back, but I wasn't in a mood to stop in all this rain. I made my way to Big Rock Grocery where Jennifer and Kole met us. She gave me a new route sheet, and I took off after eating a banana and spending too much time out of the rain. Bill didn't know if he was going to make it, so he urged me on. Made good time until a few miles out of Arlington, when the sleep demon overtook me. I stopped at a gas station, and the rain had stopped a little. Bill Kennedy and Doulas Migden caught up to me here, and we rode together from here on until the finish. I was really sleepy, but was riding strong on the hills, and making some time only to lose it by stopping.

I tried to nap again a mile from the control and Douglas gently prodded me with a "We are only 1 mile away from the control" to get me going. Jennifer met us again at the control. Bill had thrown in the towel, his stomach having gotten the better of him. We spend all together too much time out of the rain at Granite Falls. At least a half hour or so, and then took off again. I was their navigator having done this route many many times. We got to Monroe just before daybreak, and Jennifer was there again, giving us food, and getting us permission to use the restroom. (I am never using the 7-11 in Monroe ever again).

We got lost out of the control, but a call to Mark helped us find our way. We rode together until that long climb out of the Snoqualmie Valley. I was sleepy, tired and going backwards, but Douglas and Bill zoomed ahead of me, waiting for me at the turn. We were together until the Mark Thomas hill, which I tried to ride up and couldn't. I walked up. Douglas and Bill finished a few minutes ahead of me. Joe Llona and Ken Krichman finished a few minutes behind me. I had been doing so well, and went backwards for the second half. Need to practice my control stops during extreme rain.

Been gone a while...

The Year in Review...

I've been gone a while. Work will do that to you.. The only thing I've been able to do is complete my R-12. Here is a brief summary of what I've been up to since the Oregon Randonneurs 600k in May.

June 2010: Rode Snoqualmie Valley and Falls on a warm Spring day. Tried to crack the 10-hour barrier, but fell short by about 6 or 8 minutes.

July 2010: Rode the Olympia 200 on a hot, hot, hot day. Was well on pace for a sub-10 hour finish, but the heat took its toll. Rode with Kris Symer a lot, and finished with a bunch of guys as Les Lanterne Rouges. :)

August 2010: U.W Granite Falls. Luckily, I rode with Duane Wright. Had two successive flats on the Burke - Gilman trail just east of Lake Forest Park. It rained fairly steadily through the day, and I had my third flat on NE 100th St in Carnation. I tried bagging it here, but Duane would have none of it. He gave me his last spare tube, and we rode flat-free to the finish. We only had a half-hour to spare at the end. Had we flatted again, Duane would have had his R-12 streak halted. :) Thanks, Duane!

September 2010: Rode Three Rivers Cruise again. It was a warm day, and I had the benefit of new tyres for a flat-free finish. Missed a sub-10 hour finish by about 8 minutes. Crap!

October 2010: Rode Camano Island - Bellingham with Mike Huber and Duane Wright. It was a beautiful fall day, and we had some early bonus miles, but thanks to Mike's observant eyes, we caught this soon enough. Mike suffered a flat on Chuckanut, but we stayed together until Bellingham, where we had a luxurious stop at the Starbucks. Mike left us here, but we met Mike's wife and his daughters near Edison. We finished just as darkness was falling. Had pizza near the finish. The warm rides were done for the year.

November 2010: Rode Leschi-Auburn-Redmond-Leschi with Kris Symer and Peg. The weather held until just south of Woodinville when the skies opened up. I finished in about 11 hours and change. It was so hard to ride not 2 miles from my home but still have 20 more miles to the finish line.

December 2010: On a cold, cold day in December I rode Three Rivers Cruise v2. Darrington was cold as heck, with snow piled up on the side of the road. Billed as a flatter alternative to the popular Three Rivers Cruise permanent, I still found it within me to suck. Had a nice break in Clear Lake, and chased a tractor down hear Conway. No rain though!

January 2011: Went down to California, and tried to do a Permanent on New Years day, but the wind out of the south was brutal and I missed the first control by 2 minutes. The owner of the permanent was in town but stayed back home thinking it was crazy to ride on such a day! I even saw a Police Roadblock checking up on drivers at 7 am in the morning. I was waved through though. Came back home to Seattle and rode Snoqualmie Valley and Falls in 11 hours and change. I don't remember the weather on this day. :)

I also rode the Lake Washington Cruise Permanent with Shan Perera. Shan was late to the start, but caught me soon enough, and we rode together off and on. I saw Brian Ohlemeier on a training ride. Don't know if he recognized me, however. Shan and I had lunch at Renton, and stayed together to the finish.

February 2011: Work was crazy, but I still found time to do one 200. Didn't ride at all in January and it showed. Did a Redmond start for the Redmond-Leschi-Auburn-Redmond ride. Some rain until Cumberland, but two guys scared me with 30 miles to go. They predicted snow, and I hightailed it back to Redmond. True to their forecast I was greeted by gusting winds, rain, snow and hail on East Lake Sammamish Parkway with barely 10 miles to the finish. Didn't see Mark Thomas and Joe Platzner at the finish in Redmond. I've now completed an R-12. Looking forward to starting a new R-12 this year.

I dropped the ball on the 100k for the month resetting my P-12 quest in the process. Oh well.

2011 Goals

I've been lusting after PBP for about 7 years now. Work has been crazy, but I need to make time to train, or the qualifying rides will do me in. Hope to finish PBP this year. See you at the start line of the SIR Spring 200!

SIR 400k: Fun and Games

Many thanks to all the volunteers for a fantastic event: Joe and Jesse Llona, Amy Pieper, Mark Thomas, Geoff and Dorothy Swarts, Mrs and Mr Morse, the Westhaven Hippie Association, Peter Beeson, Eric Vigoren, and Maggie Williams...

Somewhere on the road just past Elma...

Espouse; Equitable; Extirpate; Erudite; Emancipate; Eve... The words ring out in the cool clear night air breaking the silence. With not a car in sight, the three of us ride abreast on the road uttering strange words.. It doesn't look like there is any method to this madness, but there is. A pattern. A little game we used to play as kids. What better than a game to keep the brain occupied, melt miles, and avoid sleep? What is this game you ask? You are going to have to read on..

Prologue

I ride towards the Park and ride in the early morning mist, hoping to hook up with Mike Huber, my ride to the start. I arrive on time, and so does Mike, and we load up my bike in the car and head south, chatting about rides, times, and food. There isn't much chance of me finishing with Mike, but he does promise that if he finds me on the morning's first ferry he will give me a ride home as well.

We wait for a long time at the light to turn left, but finally we buy our tickets and head over to a huge group of riders assembled at the Bremerton Ferry. The ferry has just arrived, and cars unload at a furious pace. Riders mill about, some fiddling with their bikes, some with their thoughts; I greet the ones I know, and share a casual conversation with a few. We board the ferry, and make a beeline for the little ropes to secure our bikes.

I register with the ever friendly Amy Pieper, who this past week rode a "headwind in every direction" 400K down in Oregon. We are treated to a singing performance, and I can hear laughter behind me. Riders seem to be calm and relaxed. More familiar faces. Mark is here, volunteering as well. The ferry is late, and we we arrive at Bremerton at 7a. There are more riders in front of the Starbucks.

Start to Shelton

Joe gives us some pre-ride instructions, and we are off. The lights split the riders faster than usual, but at one of the lights I avoid a huge group by fighting to make the light. A few riders make it along with me, and we settle into a nice rhythm, riding by the big boats and the cool waters. Two hundred and thirty odd miles must elapse before we will see these boats again, some during the still of the night, others during the pre-dawn hours of Sunday.

The tricky left turn onto 304 has us climbing a little, and I am spit out of the group. Absolved of having to maintain any kind of pace, I slow down a little and watch the train recede smoothly into the distance. I am passed by more people, and we roll by dale, farm, lake and hill along W Belfair Valley Road. I ride a little with Ron Himschoot, and he pulls away too. I see Gary Prince fixing a flat, and offer to help. He waves me on, and I continue. A few miles later he flies low, a good 10 mph faster than I.

A few miles later, I see a rider on the wrong side of the road, and circle over to him. It is Gary. He is changing his tube again. He has no more spares. I assure him that I have 3 spares, and all he has to do is stay ahead of me, and help is assured. The beauty of being fast is that you can always wait for help. The lanterne rouges need to be self-sufficient. I press on, wary of wasting daylight. Gary flies by me again, and I hopefully will never see him again. For his sake. I arrive at Shelton and see Bill, Peg, Lesli and Jennifer. Ron is having a sandwich at a cafe, off the course.

Shelton to Cosmopolis

We make quick work of the control, and we all leave together, but I get dropped again. By the time I make it to the top of the little hill, they are nowhere to be seen. Solitude. Blissful at times. Stressful at times. I turn onto 108, and the dread of chipseal enters my mind. I almost catch Ralph and Carol, but it is not to be. Ron catches up to me with a "When did you get ahead of me?". We discuss our stops, and it turns out that he has had a nice Sandwich at that cafe. We ride through McCleary, where he bids me good day and is off down the road. I enter chipseal hell.

Monte-Elma road fills me with dread: the headwind is blowing strong, the road surface is what it has always been, and my pace has tanked. Bill and Jennifer pass me again part of a bunch of riders. There is little to do but put ones head down and crank away. "If you are going through hell, keep going" comes to mind, and I finally turn left onto Main Street.

I am slowly exiting my dark place when Alan Bell pulls up and says Hi! I ask him to not wait for me and press on, not thinking about what my words might mean. Alan says "Do you mind if I chat with you a bit?": a perfect gentleman. We ride together chatting about this and that, but a lot about Table Tennis, something his fiancée is very interested in. I play too, though I haven't played in a while. I resolve to play her, even if it means certain embarrassment.

We spy a rider ahead, but he isn't one of us. He is one of "them": fully-loaded bicycle tourers. Blue Slough arrives too soon, and we split from his way never to know where he is from, or where he is headed. The clock is a terrible dictator. Traffic free but still chip-seal bound, we make it to Cosmopolis where a huge group (Carol and Ralph, Jeff Loomis, Bill Gobie, Jennifer, Peg and Lesli) is present.

Cosmopolis to Westhaven State Park

After the usual control procedures, I leave before Alan, Bill and Jennifer. Alan is still in the loo, and Bill and Jennifer are just preparing to leave. I soft-pedal; Bill and Jennifer catch up. Alan is nowhere in sight. Shortly before the malls Alan joins us, and our tight paceline with me playing the tail cuts into the wind. I cannot ride their pace, even in their draft. Jennifer tries to motivate me into riding faster, but I beg her to go. She leaves, reluctantly, catching up to the group in no time.

The wind blows from the side, sometimes from the front, and I struggle. I struggled along this stretch in 2006, and why should this time be any different ? As I climb one of the few rises on this road, I find my rear wheel slipping and sliding. Dreading the diagnosis, I look down and sure enough, the rear tyre is slowly leaking air. I find a staple on the sidewall of the tyre, and remove it. I give the tyre the once over and as I am done replacing the wheel, Greg Taylor and Todd Black introduce themselves. Todd collects my tools from the ground while Greg engages me in conversation. We leave together, but don't stay together for long. These two are fast.

I collected some bonus miles in 2006, and I know exactly which mistake to avoid this time. I ride to the end of the beach, and find two bikes in the grass, and find volunteers Mrs and Mr Swarts and Master, Mrs and Mr Morse eager to help.

Westhaven to Raymond

I stuff my face with food, and am regaled with stories of "enthusiastic" people singing songs and forming arches for riders. I regret being slow. A woman offers a beer to Geoff and he politely declines. After a couple of vegetarian friendly sandwiches, two packs of cashew nuts. and a stashed banana, I bid them goodbye. I will see Geoff again next week at the Oregon 600. .

That unseen enemy, the wind, is now an ally. It shoves me through the pipe, and I find myself rolling along at a good clip, but not good enough to catch anybody. This is a lovely section of road, one that I have never tired of despite repeated journeys through. It does not disappoint. Greg and Todd pass me again a few miles South of Tokeland. They watched the surfers and the kites.. What a wonderful way to use ones speed!

I find myself alone again, my thoughts subdued, with the wind, and the water and the waves for company. Time flies (like arrows). I pull into Raymond, and see a small group this time preparing to leave. They stay back upon my request; I don't really want to be riding alone at night.

Raymond to Potlatch State Park

I leave quickly, my only luxury having called my wife to let her know my general location. Soon after we leave Raymond the road pitches up. Jennifer lags behind with me, while Bill rides on a few feet ahead. I try to exhort them to go ahead, but Bill rides back, and the three of us, with my sedentary pace as lead set off again. I am feeling low on energy and a few miles later I stop to eat. I've been bonking, and out come Bill's magic Peanut Butter and Chocolate Chip bars, and Jennifer's endurolytes, and my cashewnuts. Some water, and I am refreshed by the stop.

I find that I can now hold their pace, and we discuss our food strategies and the miles melt away along with the daylight. We stop a few miles before the turn onto 107 to wear our night clothing, and take bathroom breaks. We eat a little bit more, rest a little bit more. My companions are kind enough to stay with me, and I promise to ride hard for them. I pick up the pace into Montesano where we arrive just as darkness has started to fall.

There is a rider in a car, and it looks like his family has come to pick him up. I do not recognize him, but he assures us that he is ok. We buy food, water and Gatorade and eat some more. We stay for 15 minutes before setting off on the next torture fest: Monte Elma Road. Again. Luckily we spot a foot wide clean area and ride there, and this stretch too passes by quickly. We are still chatting, and it is clear that tiredness or sleepiness hasn't set in. The rare car flies by, but we can ride three abreast for a good part of it.

We make the Cloquallum Road turn, and the road pitches up again. Not steeply, but conversation ceases. There is not a star in the sky. This of course, does not bode well for the randonneur. The temperature has dropped too. I find myself under the grip of the sleep demon, and anxious to shake him off, I ask my fellow riders if they would play a little game with me.

My mother, who is a teacher by profession, got me hooked on the English language as a child. She would play little word games with me, most of them designed to bolster my vocabulary and my grasp of the language. Of course, we played word games at school too, and one of the more famous ones was the ones where you would try to keep a chain of words beginning with E and ending in E, going. The rules of the game were simple: Take turns, no repeats, only one form of a word to be used, and the words had to be found in a dictionary.

Bill and Jennifer consent. At first the words fly out fast, and the easy words are exhausted. The dynamics of the game become apparent. It is a test of memory, speed and diction. If you don't use the time you are idle productively to think of other words fitting the pattern you give other people time to think. We take turns pinning the other person to a corner, and we also learn new words in the process. Sleep has receded into some remote corner of our brain, as has the dark sky and the fallen temperature.

Our world is our game, and our lights are its only illumination. Oh, and the odd house: its dogs spooked by the sound (and probably the smell). Jennifer claims to be having a lot of fun, and we finally arrive at the turn onto US 101. Riding abreast at this point is impossible and so the game ends. We all revert back to silence. But it was great fun while it lasted. A mile or two out of Potlatch, we find a group of riders headed back to Bremerton. We arrive at Potlatch to a roaring fire and a warm welcome from the Llona family.

Potlatch State Park to Bremerton

We are shown to our seats. There are some riders sleeping in Joe's car. Joe and Jesse flit around us taking care of our every need. This control has been an enormous time hole for me. I spent about 45 minutes in 2006 trying to warm up after a chilly descent down to the Hood Canal. This time I eat two PBJ sandwiches and a Chicken-Flavoured soup. I start shivering and now I know that I am in trouble. I tell Bill and Jennifer that I am shivering and need to leave or I will never leave. They graciously allow me to leave.

I leave, and cannot warm up. I continue to shiver, and my bike shakes every few feet. I cannot control myself. A few miles later Stephen Barnes joins me. I am still shivering, and his arrival makes me pick up the pace. We chat about our entries into randonneuring, some of his long rides, some of mine and people we know of. I am still shivering. There are no climbs to speak of, and there is water nearby. By the time we reach Twanoh State Park, my shivering stops, but I am still cold. I finally warm up a few miles after Twanoh.

Just before the SR 3 turn, I run over glass. I swear and stop immediately, and Stephen and I go to work on my bike to make sure that I don't have any glass stuck to my tyres. We make the turn onto SR 3, and then onto Belfair Parkway. Traffic dies down, and we are alone with our thoughts again. Half-way down Belfair Parkway we see the first signs of daybreak. One of the greatest rewards of randonneuring is being able to ride late into the night and see the day break.

We turn onto Sam Chritopherson road, and we know that we aren't that far away from the finish. SR3's shoulder is a mess: we climb over, and then plunge back down to the water, seeing those big boats again. It has been 22 something hours since we went by those boats. I want to be done. The short and steep hill on Burwell hits me hard, but I see Stephen waiting for me at the top. We both turn onto the hotel lobby. The time is 5:50a. We are done!

Eric Vigoren and Maggie Williams offer us congratulations, food, drink and encouragement. We make a quick stop to get our cards signed, and take off to catch the 6:20 ferry. On the ferry, I see Bill and Jennifer. They finished about 6 minutes behind us. I catch Mike Huber and he drops me off home. Next week is the Oregon 600!

April's R-12: A truly last minute affair.

Prologue

Cue whining music..

I have been horribly busy these last few months, often working late hours, and having no time to either commute to work by bike or do a permanent, because more often than not I was at work trying to get things done. Such schedules lend themselves very poorly to improving ones riding shape. The only day left was the last day of the month, which I had to arrange with my boss since I finished everything at work the previous day. Alan Bell rescheduled his Saturday registration to ride with me, and we met at the Haggen's in Arlington by around 6.45a.

Arlington to Sedro Woolley

We set off around 7.10a under ominous skies. I was greatly encouraged by the wide swath of clear sky to the far west and south of us hoping that as the day progressed the rains would get driven out by the brisk tailwind that we were supposed to get. It didn't quite work out that way, as there was still quite some darkness where we were immediately headed: North, and North-East.

I have ridden several times on Highway 9, but mostly only in the Southerly direction, the lone exception being the 300 where we headed North on Highway 9. Not for far though, as we turned off towards Conway on Highway 534. The road looks very different headed North, and it was like being on a new road. Traffic on Highway 9 was not bad with only the logging trucks showing signs of impatience. Wide load trucks were the best though, slowing down for us, maintaining a very good distance, and passing only when sight lines and traffic was clear.

Alan slowed down a bit to stay with me, and I sped up a little and we stayed mostly together on Highway 9. We chatted a lot, about our jobs, families, backgrounds, interests and so on. The miles melt away in such pleasant company, and you hardly notice the weather. We had been peppered by the occasional water drops here and there, but a few miles into the ride, the rain started. I had hoped that there wouldn't be much, if any, of the rain, and so left my helmet cover and rain pants at home. This would turn out to be the source of much consternation but little actual damage. We stayed warm from the slightly rolling terrain of the Highway.

Alan nearly missed the turn away from the highway, but luckily I was there close enough to avoid any Special Ks. The rain now started in earnest, but we got to the Sedro Woolley control in pretty good time. The time was 09:09.

Sedro Woolley to Bellingham

I got some Hot Chocolate, while Alan got some Fig newtons. The Hot Chocolate was truly hot and Alan suggested that I add some ice to it to cool it down so I could down it and go. Brilliant Idea! (filed away in the "Randonneuring Tips" section)

The rain had now thickened, and traffic along Highway 20 was quite busy, but we turned off on F & S Grade road, which offered a welcome respite from the traffic. I didn't even know that a "Off the Highway" route existed to Bellingham! There were a few locals out: one was clearly the local Adopt-A-Road guy, as he was walking the shoulder with an eagle eye and a trash bag. A couple of walkers looked at us and professed us "Hard-core". I agreed with them, equal measure of vanity and politeness.

We stopped briefly on Prairie Road for some clothing adjustments: I put on my skullcap. My gloves weren't soaked through and my feet were warm in my wool socks. We were among the trees so it was difficult to ascertain what the weather was going to be a few miles down the road. Old Highway 99 took us to the small town of Alger, which I would love to visit and spend some time in ("Cute Little Town", as my wife would put it). The Alger Cain Lake Road stretch, which took us past Lake Cain, Lake Reed, Lake Louise and Lake Whatcom was a lovely stretch, with lakes, verdant forests and farms: pleasing to the eye.

About halfway along Lake Whatcom Blvd, the rain stopped, even if the few people waiting for a bus in the little town of Sudden Valley looked at us like we were ghosts. There is a golf course here: I'd have to tell my brother; an avid duffer, I am sure would love play it. Seeing our shadows was much cause for cheer, even if the hill that followed made me suffer a bit. We got to Bellingham in good time.

Bellingham to La Conner

We were treated to a really grumpy clerk at this control last year, but this year there was an East Indian woman, who was polite but seemed bemused by my attire and mode of transportation. "Are you biking?" she asked me with a sort of disbelief. I bought some PowerAde, and a Bear Claw which I ate on the spot.

We made quick work of the control, and set off discussing whether we would stop at the Mambo Italiano for Lunch, a spot venerated by our very own Mark Thomas. Alan wanted to at least check it out since he had never managed to spot it, while I was wary of spending too much time at a restaurant, being fully aware of my status as the slowpoke.

We parted ways at the Cafe: I had just eaten a bear claw, had a PowerBar in reserve, and a bottle of PowerAde, and I knew this would tide me over for the next 30 miles or so, and I left Alan, and rode onto a mostly-empty Chuckanut drive. Not many tourists or locals on a Friday afternoon. I stopped a couple of times to adore the scenery while nibbling on some food. I expected Alan to catch me, but as I flew down the last hill towards Bow, I still hadn't spotted him in my rear-view mirror.

The wind hit me hard as I exited the hills of SR 11, and onto the flats of Bow. It was a W/SW wind, and it seemed like it was in my face no matter which direction the road took. We headed west on W Bow Hill Road, and my pace slowed quite a bit, with the chipseal offering another hindrance. I paused to admire the horses before the last of the small hills on Bow Hill-Edison Road, and the horses came over to take a look at what I was all about.

Alan caught me a mile or two before Highway 20 and passed me with a gentle "I am going to just putter along". I tried to stay in his slipstream but it was too much effort. I couldn't catch him while he was waiting at the light, and the result was another solo slog into the wind. I got to La Conner a little after 3p.

La Conner to the Finish

I tried to make quick work of this control as I knew Alan would probably leave ahead of me if I didn't. The clerk at the Pioneer store was familiar with our activities: she was full of questions about how far I had to go, and how ahead of time I was. When I replied "about a couple of hours", both she and the woman behind in line responded with a "Way to go". Excellent encouragement!

We left the control, and spotted a new Cafe/Bakery to our right (the right turn just after leaving the Market). This will be my preferred stop from now on, I think. Now headed in a Easterly direction, the winds turned favourable, and save for a small stop to eat on Pioneer Highway, we made excellent time. We finished a little before 6:47p, making it in a 10 h 47 minute excursion.

Many thanks to Alan for sticking with me and heeding my call for a Friday ride. I was glad I played hookie from work!

Fall Colours, rain and euphoria

Prologue

My October has looked like this: work work work, vacation (or pacation, as my nephew puts it), and sickness. Each of these things eliminated all the nice weekends. My addled brain somehow remembered that an October ride was yet to be recorded, and ailments be damned, I set out to do Leschi-Auburn-Redmond-Leschi, under the threat of oodles of precipitation. Fact of life in the Northwest.

I took the bus out to Montlake from my house, and then rode the 3.5 miles to Leschi in the early morning darkness. It wasn't cold and it wasn't raining yet. The pavement on Lake Washington Boulevard was atrocious. The wet pavement sucked up all the light my E6 was shining on the road. I got lost a few times, but made it to the start around 6.45a. It wasn't the last on this day. After munching on an Apple Fritter, I set off under threatening skies. It was dry, as of now. I briefly pondered abandoning the ride and restarting my R-12 quest #2 again, but pulled that thought out of my head pretty quick. It must have been the Apple Fritter at work.

Oh, and I forgot to take my gloves. I only had my Outdoor Research rain mitts; it turned out to be the only glove I would need all day.

Leschi to Ravensdale Market

The first part of this ride is almost completely flat, with very few inclines to worry about, but the steep little pitch to get to the turn on Seward Park Ave woke me up. The traffic on this road and on Rainier Avenue even at this early hour was enough to keep me on tenterhooks, but the turn onto Perimeter Avenue brought some respite from the automobile. I got completely confused by the directions to Cedar River Trail, and spent a good 1o minutes trying to find the parking lot mentioned. I chased after a passing cyclist (riding on the wrong side of the road), and asked her for directions. She pointed me the right way, and I resolved to update the route sheet when I got home.

It was one thing to find the trail, but another thing to follow the right trail. I took the right fork, and that lead me straight to huge pile of gravel. I beat a hasty retreat and was greeted by a little suicidal dog. I slammed on my brakes and yelled "hey!", while its owner about 50 feet away walked without a care in the world. The morning was cold and foggy, and the trail was chock full of leaves. The hills that parallelled the trail were full of trees changing colours, and I felt like a complete idiot for flying to the East Coast to see the fall colours. Much leaf peeping can be accomplished right here in the Pacific Northwest.

A couple of hours into the ride, and the rain started. It started slow, a gentle mist, and rose to a crescendo and pretty much stayed there until I got to Issaquah. Places to pull over and don some clothing were hard to come by. I kept on, passing the Maple Valley IGA that a few SIR riders have missed (while riding the Leschi-North Bend-Leschi permanent), not realizing that I had to get off the trail here. I thought briefly about it, but then continued on, thinking that the trail would end with a way to get to Highway 169. I found a nice tunnel to stop and don my helmet cover, and avoided wearing my rain pants and booties. I should have.

I must have paid more attention to my cyclecomputer. I overshot my turn, and ended up where the paved trail ends and the gravel starts, without a nice way to get back to the highway. I turned around mad at myself for missing the turn. Leaving the serenity of the trail to head over to the truck-infested Maple Valley Highway was hard indeed. The next two or so miles were some of the longest of my life: I kept thinking I was lost as the street numbers first went up, and then down, and then up again, making me want to stop and reconsider my route each time this happened. I eventually reconciled myself to just riding bonus miles when suddenly 244th St appeared to the left putting me out of my misery (in a good way!). The next little stretch was hilly with narrow roads, but beautiful as we went through steep pitch after steep pitch, making up for the ugliness of SR 169. The rain had thickened, and my lower body was completely drenched by this point. I arrived at Ravensdale market, completely drenched.

Ravensdale Market to Auburn

The look the woman womanning the store gave me was one of pure pity. A guy in a pickup, buying his favourite cancer stick asked me if I was commuting or out on a fun ride. When I mentioned I was out for fun, he said "Some fun this is!", and left after a cheery "stay safe out there!". I donned my rain pants and my booties, and my rain mitts, and not wishing to lose anymore of the measly 30 minutes that I had banked, left into the rain.

I got to SR 160, and the directions mentioned an immediate right turn onto Auburn Black Diamond Road, but I only saw Roberts Dr. Figuring that the route sheet was wrong, I kept on, hoping to come across an Auburn Black Diamond Road somewhere in the next half mile or so. Unfortunately, after about 2 miles in the pouring rain, I didn't find it. So I did the unmanly thing and asked for directions. I was told to head back the way I came and turn on Roberts Dr. (I came home and found out that the route sheet hadn't completely printed. Roberts Dr was mentioned in line 2). I had bombed down and climbed up some rollers and I had to repeat all of this again. I had lost precious time, and wasn't pleased.

The rain intensified, and though I was covered from head to toe in waterproof gear, my rain mitts had started letting water in, and my fingers were quitesoaked. I rued starting, and just hoped the ride would be over. I even thought about calling Sound Transit and plotting a bus ride home. I wasn't even halfway there, and I was already hating this ride. Thankfully not long after this low-point I found myself in the Valero gas station. I had all of 40 minutes in the bank. My excursion had probably cost me around 20 minutes.

Auburn to Cumberland

I must have been quite a sight as I entered the store and got my food and receipt. The woman at the counter looked oddly harried, and I did my best to not worsen her mood. Another dude in a bicycle stopped by and bought his favourite cancer stick. Of course, I have never met a rando who smoked. We may be of questionable sanity, but we aren't stupid. The restroom at this gas station was terrible though. I recommending going somewhere else.

I set off once again with a half hour in the bank. This was going to be one of those days. I felt weak on the bike, and weak between the ears. Neither did I have the power to make this ride go any faster nor did I have a way of making it more enjoyable. So I wallowed in a sea of self-pity, and cursed the weather in colourful language. I knew that the first few miles on Green Valley Road (from Greg Cox's Chili Feed 200) were mostly flat, and I looked forward to that stretch of road. Of course, Green Valley Road also features a climb for the last 2 or 3 miles, but all of it is pretty gentle grade. The farms along Green Valley Road were bare, but the stench of manure was thick in the air. In the spring Canadian Geese make their homes here in these farmlands temporary immigrating to the south. But this late in the year, they are probably in more comfortable environs.

My mood was quickly lifted up by the next few miles of road. I wasn't going anywhere fast, but at least I was in pleasing surroundings. The hills along this road featured trees of glorious yellow, the last hurrah of the leaves before they fell down dead. The trees were shrouded in fog and it was a very pleasing sight. I love the combination of fog and trees. The climb upto SR 169 was slow and painful, but completely bereft of traffic. There would be no stops at the Black Diamond Bakery, as we turned off onto Lawson. Feeling a bonk coming, I stopped and ate food in the rain, as car after car drove bemusedly by.

Some parts of this leg were completely new to me. I looked forward to the Green Gorge Road, as I was sure there would be some climbing, and I would get warm. The gradual plummet towards the gorge was pretty good, though the slippery conditions meant I couldn't quite let it rip downhill. A police car drove slowly by, and the officer waved to me as I started the climb out of the gorge. I arrived at Cumberland Grocery at 1.40, maintaining my nice 40 minute cushion. My only hope of banking some time would be on the flat stretches of E Lake Sammamish and the Burke Gilman Trail.

Cumberland to Woodinville

The stop at the controle was short, as I purchased supplies and left intent on eating on the go. The next few miles were familiar roads, and I knew that short of a mechanical problem, I would gain some time. The rollers before Issaquah went by, with my strength gradually returning. The rain stopped about 5 miles away from Issaquah, and while it didn't do wonders for my speed, it did make me feel better. I fought the traffic through Downtown Issaquah, and made it to the lakeside in one piece, where a fat shoulder insulated me from the cars. The hills to the west of the lake were chock full of leaves and the fiery reds in the sky from a sun making its way down were a special sight indeed. Not many cyclists out on the road, but I did see a few getting their rides in. The one thing about this route is it passes tantalizingly close to my house, but I resisted the call of home (near Chateau St Michelle), and pulled into the 7-11 dreaming of more food.

Woodinville to the Finish

A fast, flat and familiar section awaited: I left about 10 minutes after I arrived, but sunset was fast approaching. I donned all my reflective gear, dumped all my raingear and took off blissfully, knowing full well that most of the hills were done for the day. The trail was full of leaves and bicyclists without lights! I got confused by the "Turn RIGHT towards Hec Edmundson pavilion" clue and since I am not that familiar with the U-district pondered over why I had to ride in the opposite direction. The cue for Hamlin was a left turn, and that set me straight pretty quick. The last few miles are very turn heavy, so I carefully stopped at each turn making sure I wasn't getting lost. 12 hours and 20 minutes, but I had finished. My October Permanent is in the books. I hope I can recover well for getting in a November ride.

A highly recommended route!

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.

Spring 400K: I survived!

Many many many thanks are due to the volunteers for organizing this 400. I can honestly say that I would not have finished without their support, especially the controle at the top of Blewett Pass, and the Dubuque Cutoff controle. Brian Ohlemeier, Geoff Swarts, Mark Roberts, Erik Anderson, John Morris and Mark Thomas: Thanks very much!

Photos are here

I wasn't so sure of finishing this one. The Fleche and the Tahuya 600 rides last year were two that I remember being nervous for. But, not so much. The ride was constantly on my mind. The three passes were daunting, and my familiarity with the hills north of US2 didn't help matters any. None of the 4 400ks that I have done have been particularly tough. I pegged my odds of DNF'ing higher than my finish odds. I knew precious little about Snoqualmie and Blewett passes, but I was no stranger to any of the roads after US2. Duane Wright and I had ridden the Woodinville - Granite Falls permanent, and the latter half of this route reuses most of the latter part of that permanent. Reiner and Dubuque Roads were fresh in my memory.

Preparation: Swapped out the 28s for 23s. The weather was slated to cooperate, and so I could leave most of my rain gear behind, but I needed some for those pass descents. I was tempted to leave the Carradice behind, but left it on. In preparation, I cleaned out the old CamelBak, got lots of sleep and kept myself hydrated. I had to be quick at the controles: could not afford anymore than 5 minutes [I was woefully wrong about this].

There would be lots of positives: I would add to my collection of passes (current tally: Steven's going East, Washington and Rainy going West, and Barlow North). I would be in good shape to ride the 600, with more new passes to bag. The ride was four parts: The three passes and then the stretch to Maltby. The route after that is largely devoid of climbs, save for the climb to the Falls, and maybe some climbing on Paradise lake road and Woodinville-Duvall Road. The goal was to survive the passes, fly down the descents, and somehow make each control: just hang on to finish. Seemed like a plan.

Kevin Humphreys was to give me a ride to the start, and as I bombed down the hill at 70kmph I hit the train tracks hard, and my rear tire went soft. I walked to the Tully's. This was not a good start to the day. I hadn't seen Kevin since 2006, when we chatted for a while in Bellingham: he on the 400, and I on the 1000. I usually don't see him because, well, he is hours ahead of me. Once we got to the hotel area, I fixed the flat real fast, and we set off for the hotel, where I missed the pre-ride instructions thanks to lining up for the bathroom. Met Matt Mikul in the line.

Start to Cle Elum

I left about 5 minutes late. I saw the Fantastic Four in the distance, and then I was all alone. The initial bit was granny gear time, but about 3 or 4 miles later, the grade evened out and I was able to make progress at better than "crawl" pace. The weather was cool, and the scenery was spectacular. I have never travelled very far east on 90, and this was a fantastic first time. I passed Ward Beebe fixing a flat, and shortly after the summit, met up with Paul Whitney. Paul and I rode last years Spring 300 together, and we spent the stretch to Cle Elum catching up on the past year. We got to Cle Elum around 8.55.

Cle Elum to Leavenworth

A small group was still there: Peg, Lesli (from the OR group), Michael Norman, and Gary Smith. We left about 10 minutes after we arrived. The day was slowly starting to warm up, but I didn't feel then need to use sunscreen yet. Paul and I rolled out together, and I lost Paul just before the turn to Highway 97. I slowly caught up to somebody I thought was Michael Norman, but it turned out to be Jeff Tilden. Jeff is very gregarious, and we proceeded at a very decent clip up the mountain. Jeff pulled off at a restaurant after Liberty Cafe to get some water, but I soldiered on. I stopped to apply sunscreen, and Jeff joined me shortly after. It was pretty good scenery. I saw Old Blewett Road go by wondering what challenges lay ahead on the 600.

About 4 miles from the top, my CamelBak became empty, and I only had one full water bottle, which I promptly fnished off before the top. I was thirsty when I got to the top, and met Brian and Mark Roberts. They were a very comforting sight. Apparently we weren't Les Lanterne Rouge. It was Bill Alsup from Portland. Drat! They had all kinds of goodies on them, chief among them being water. I refilled, stocked up on food, and started the descent. Jeff had left about 5 minutes ago, laying down a "catch me" challenge. It was a fantastic descent! However, Mark Roberts caught me on the descent and proceeded to drop me like a hot potato! Quite a few riders were out climbing, and it was a rip roaring descent for me. I watched for rocks as Geoff pointed out in his report, but didn't touch the brakes until the turn off to US2. A fast flowing river provided the scenery for the last few miles before US2. I saw Mark Roberts returning along Highway 97, returning to the top of Blewett Pass.

Six hot hot miles later, I was in Leavenworth, and at the Subway. Jeff was already here, and so were Peg and Lesli. Peg was filling a tube sock with ice. The old Cascade 1200 trick!

Leavenworth to Skykomish

I wanted to eat solid food, but I figured I would save all the time I could, and decided to just eat candy bars. I refilled my water supplies and food, and set off for Skykomish with Jeff. Peg and Lesli left after us, but my last image of the two of them, was them flying by me with an "on your left". How they do it I know not, but they were fast. Jeff was fast too, but the heat soon took a toll on us. This is also where I started suffering some rather serious cramps, and I would just stop, wishing the pain to go away. I almost crashed once. These cramps would plague me all the way to the top of Stevens.

Progress was pitiful, but I finally made it to Coles Corner, where I saw Jeff's bike parked against the store wall. I ate a ClifBar that I had taken from the Blewett Pass not-so-secret control, and nearly threw up. The heat had melted the bar, and it was almost inedible. I ate it anyway! In hingsight it was a mistake to force it down. This started a 15 mile stretch where I was nauseous constantly. A great many negative thoughts flourished in my mind: I could just turn left on JW Mann Road and then take Ben Howard Road, and then ride home. My wife could come and pick me up. I could always do the Oregon 400 and the Oregon 600. I didn't know how I refocused, but arriving at Nason Creek rest area probably helped!

I had planned to refuel on water at Nason Creek (a tributary of the Wenatchee River, I found out), and it was a relief to find some shade. I filled up all of my water containers and just slumped to the ground. Several helpful people came up to talk to me, wanting to make sure I was ok. One guy, a cyclist, asked me how I was doing on supplies. He said he had food and water that he could share with me, and then asked about the route. I doused my head with water to try and cool off. After about a 10 minute break, I set off, confident that Jeff was still behind me, but as it turned out he had missed seeing my bike. Oh well. I caught him sitting on a shady spot, and we rode together for pretty much the entire climb. Jeff kept me from quitting. His humour, and timely witticisms helped me tremendously.

The next 18 miles was a study in contrasts: The temperature got colder as we climbed up, but the heat was searing at the lower elevations. Jeff and I stopped in the shade quite a few times, there simply was no other way to cool down. I had severe hot feet issues throughout the latter part of this ride. Of course, had we been faster, our pain would have lessened. I had left my bike computer at home (I get depressed looking at my low speeds), and so I had no way of tracking progress. At near 2000 feet, the air started to cool, and life was good again. Our slow pace also afforded us great views of the mountains, literally hundreds of waterfalls, and several thundering creeks, and raging rivers.

We arrived at the summit at around 7p, I was about an hour behind my fantasy schedule, which wasn' that bad. Jeff set off again for the bottom, and another fantastic descent ensued. I tucked in, and bombed down, and got to Skykomish at 7.37p, to be faced with the worst restroom ever known to man. Jeff was polishing off a Burrito.

Skykomish to Maltby

We spent about 15 minutes here, recovering from our exertions of the last 150-odd miles. I figured I was going to finish with about an hour to spare. We milked the descent some more, and pulled off just after Sultan (or was it Gold Bar?), where we stocked up on food, water and ate a little. This was mostly a 20 minute Rest and Recovery stop for us. We shared some chips: salt never tasted so delicious. It was around 10p, and we were set for the next punishing stretch. The horrors of Dubuque Road lay ahead, as did that killer uphill before the turn to Old Pipeline Road.

Three down, one to go. A beautiful golden moon lit the night. Just after the turn to Old Owen Road, I saw somebody sitting at the Chevron, and Jeff and I rode back thinking the more the merrier. It was Dave Harper who was having stomach problems and was done for the day, having eaten anything since Stevens Pass. I tried to talk him out of it, but he was firm. He wished us good luck, and we were on our way. I had to zig-zag across much of Old Owen road, and same for Reiner Road. When we got to the top it was great relief. I knew the route pretty well, and Jeff and I stuck together.

Dubuque Road was next. Dubuque is the Anderson Hill Road of this ride. After the initial steep pitch, I met a smiling Geoff Swarts driving the route in reverse trying to track riders. It was great to see a friendly face. Geoff is also one of our permanent co-ordinators. Apparently they were worried about us. He warned me about the two U's coming up, and after a short chat, I rode on. Jeff somehow was behind me at this point. I bombed down the first hill, pedalling like a madman, and tried to use the momentum to go up the other side, and miraculously it worked. It was harder on the second try, because the gap is a bit longer, but I made it to the other side somehow. After that, it was just a series of small hills before the turn to Dubuque Cutoff Road, where Geoff told me, more goodies were in store.

I waited for Jeff at the turn, figuring it was easy to miss, and sure enough, he showed up a few minutes later, thanking me for waiting. We made it to the secret control where Erik Anderson and John Morris both filled out water bottles, and a Coke. We left fairly soon from this control. The Coke cooled me down, and I was shivering on some of the descents. I was feeling quite good through Snohomish, and the climb on Springhetti and Broadway didn't seem so bad. We saw blinkies at the Shell gas Station and knew at once that some other kind soul had volunteered to serve us in the middle of the night, even when the controle was at a 24-hour location. It was Mark Thomas, with donuts, cookies, and all other goodies. Time was 0210.

Maltby to Finish

Mark was full of good cheer, and his humour provided a very welcome diversion from the tiredness that plagued me. We talked about the heat and how people were coping: one rider, Vincent, had thrown himself on a snowbank. When I told him that I wasn't ready to do the 600, he cautioned me against making a decision at this very moment. We had passed the four major tests with time to spare, and we only had the Falls climb to really call a climb. We took off after about 10 minutes of chatting. Paradise Lake Road and Woodinville-Duvall Road did have some climbs, but they were of the short variety, nothing really steep. A teen in a mini-van yelled something obscene at Jeff who was a ways behind me, and I pulled over to the gravel to let the morons pass. Sure enough, they yelled the same thing at me. No points for originality.

I came upon the sounds of water on the road on NE 100th, and slammed my brakes hard. Jeff was quite worried about me, and stopped too. We then gently observed the water using our headlamps and the water was only a few inches deep. The still of the night amplifies sounds. I mistook it for a raging river! I saw light to the East on Carnation Farm road, and the birds started chirping, but the moonlight was still strong.

Our collective wheels began to fall off on 203, I think. Our pace slowed to a crawl, and Jeff took up my offer of a hundred miles earlier of salted cashews, at the intersection of 203 and 202. It was Jeff's wife's birthday on Sunday, and he jokingly said that he might not have the energy to celebrate with her! We made slow if unspectacular progress, and it was a joy riding on this road with such little traffic. The last few miles to Downtown North Bend were excruciating as were the 4 miles to the Inn, which even featured a gravel stretch. I deeply hoped to not have a flat! Thankfully, I didn't. Around 628a we arrived at the Inn. 25 hours and 28 minutes later, we were done!

Brian Ohlemeier took our cards, and Jeff immediately left for home. I chatted with him about the ride, the heat, and the great support, while chowing down pizza. A nice long shower and a nice chat with Jan and Ryan Hamilton ensued. They looked as fresh as daisies, and I looked like death warmed over. Jan is not a fan of US2: he said it was hard to have any kind of rhythm. I slept for a couple of hours, after they left. My wife and I were meeting friends from Canada for lunch, so I had to get home quick. As we were getting ready to leave, we were greeted by Paul Whitney and his daughter. Paul planned to sleep in the car while his daughter drove him back to the Tri-Cities. Smart man!

Bring on the 600!