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!

SIR Spring 300K: Breathing room

Prologue

After a "less than stellar but still good enough to finish" performance at the Chili Feed 200, I was quite excited about this relatively flat 300. I carpooled with Jason to the start, which featured an impressive array of food and drink. I downed a donut and some coffee there to start my day off right. A lot of riders, and a lot of new faces. This bodes well! But we shall not speak of "the" ride today. There were several BC Randonneurs: Ali and Roger Holt among them. It was good to meet them after a long time.

Start to Hollywood Hills

I was in front of the women's loo when the bulk of the pre-ride instructions were given, but I heard the words "train tracks"... (I was guarding the entrance because a dude was using it). We set off into the pre-dawn hours, and a trail of red blinking taillights could be seen climbing up the little hill. I found my natural position, and chatted with Roger Holt about the fine art of recovering from injuries, though his were far serious than my own.

Roger's pace was too good for me: I backed off and fell in line with a 'bent rider who was only headed as far as Marymoor. On the descent into Lake Forest Park, the 'bent vanished, and just before the turn onto the trail, I saw Ken Krichman walking up the road. He had let a bottle fly off. Ok, I would have some company shortly I thought, but kept riding on, mindful of the narrow time cushion I had survived on a fortnight ago.

I was a little nervous about the routing off the trail, having checked it out the previous day, but there was a rider wearing a Brooks jersey (Chris Stevens), who pointed me in the right direction: he had stopped to take off some clothing. I was making good time, and when I checked my watch as I was nearing the control. I found out that I had more than a half-hour on hand. This cheered me up considerably. I finally got to the Hollywood Hills control and met Mark and Chris Thomas, manning the control.

Hollywood Hills to Beaver Creek Park

I was planning to make a quick stop of it, and when Mark told me that I had 39 minutes in the bank, I was overjoyed. "You are on target for a 15 hour finish", he said. I live right up the hill from the control, and maybe I could take a half-hour nap ?

I set off again for the next control on my morning commute route, and as I was nearing the point where the brevet route diverged from my commute route, I saw Frank Kaplan (who I mistook for somebody else), coming toward me. "Do you know where you are going?", he asked. When I replied in the affirmative, he stuck with me, and we chatted along until I got him to East Lake Sammamish Parkway. Recognizing his superior pace, I told him that he was under no obligation to stay with me. After saying his thanks and wishing me a nice ride, he set off, soon a blur in the distance.

I didn't want anybody to see me suck climbing Louis Thompson Road, and more than a few zigs and zags later, I met a smiling Gary Prince taking photos at the top of a little rise. This is where I heard of the Tofu Sandwiches at the next control. I made it to the next control to see quite a few riders leaving the control. This was another good sign. On the Chili Feed 200, I had hardly met anybody at the controls.

Beaver Creek Park to Sultan

In the randonneuring world, there are controls, and there are controls. This was of the latter kind: Food and drink of every kind was laid out in front of us. Vernonia is the gold standard of Controls, but this one was almost as good as Vernonia (they have French-press Coffee).

A smiling Geoff Swarts welcomed me along with two other volunteers whose name completely escapes me now. She even affixed a "wow" sticker on my fender. Shame on me! I had more than an hour in the bank. This was welcome news, and some much needed breathing room. I saw Jason, and Peg at the control, and this gave some hope that I would actually make decent time. I spent about 15 minutes doing control activities and eating the Tofu sandwich. Just as I was readying myself to leave, the rider in the Brooks jersey rode in, looking all classy. And so did Chuck Hoffman.

I took off again, not wishing to waste any more time, and after a easy-looking-but-not-for-me climb up Ames Lake, I found myself on the gentle rollers of W Snoqualmie Road. The day had started clearing up, and I could see signs of blue everywhere. Pacelines of bicycles littered the roadway. The day was warming up, but not enough for me to take off my jacket. I was passed by a couple of riders on this stretch, and just before the next turn on Crescent Lake Road, Chris passed me too. I was now pretty sure that I was Lanterne Rouge. No matter, I had time in the bank.

I have always suffered on Ben Howard road going East. That one sharp climb always kicks my tail. Zig and Zag to the rescue again. After that one climb things eased up a bit, but we will be visiting these parts again on the 4-Pass 600. Gulp! I thought Chris vanished off in to the distance, but somehow I got to the Sultan Coffee shop only a couple of minutes after him.

Sultan to Granite Falls

I got some chips at the Sub Shop, and mixed up the last of my Sustained Energy: two bottles worth. The next stretch was not easy. Reiner Road would take a healthy bite out of my leg. I finally got to take off my jacket and gloves. I left before Chris and the first little climb up (which I most dread for some reason) wasn't very hard. The area doesn't seem to have escaped the turmoils of the housing market: I noticed that several of the houses were subject to foreclosure. There is a lovely little descent down Reiner, and then a gentle flattish stretch after which the road takes a turn for the worse: Up. I zig-zagged my way, and I spotted a smiling Mark Thomas with his camera ready to capture every wince and whine.

Me: "I hate you" (this is a running joke between us).

MT: "Hahaahaha. It wasn't even my idea. You look like you are enjoying it though"

Me: "There is some pleasure in pain, I guess"

MT: "But not as much as watching others suffer"

Me: "You know how I console myself?"

MT: "How's that?"

Me: "I am not doing these hills after climbing 3 Mountain Passes!"

I stopped for about 10 seconds to take a breather on the last vicious stretch, but didn't stay to chat with Mark once I made it to the top. Mark didn't mind. Pipeline road offered some reward for that last nasty climb. The roads after the Woods Creek turn were something else. Chris saved me from bonus miles when he read the BL instruction on Roesiger Lake Road which I completely missed. :) When I crested the vicious little hill on N Lake Roesiger, he was gone. I got to Granite Falls eventually, losing about 10 minutes of my buffer, but I wasn't complaining.

Granite Falls to Conway

I found out that Chris had arrived here only moments ago, and so I made quick work of this control. Got myself a snickers bar, filled my water bottles (no more Sustained Energy, alas), and took off with Chris, who then dropped me promptly. When we got to Arlington, I saw him atop the steep little hill and was happy to keep somebody in my sights. A vicious crosswind greeted me on Highway 9, but there are no steep pitches here. The crosswind turned into a nice tailwind on Highway 534 and blew me into Conway in no time. I saw a blue jersey leaving Conway, just as I pulled in to the gas station there. More time in the bank!

Conway to Stanwood

Chris had gotten there a while back, and looked set to leave. I made a pact with him to ride at night, and we left together after I lubed myself and filled my bottles with Powerade. We would have the dark hours upon us in a little while, and so we put on our night gear as well. I rode behind Chris, and we made it to Stanwood in no time. Again that blue shirt was leaving the control as we were arriving. Drat!

Stanwood to Machias

We just got our cards signed. I called my wife to tell her that I was doing well, and promised to call her again when I knew of my finish time estimate. The wind was quite merciless. After we passed Interstate 5, Chris took off. 43rd Ave delivered a little kicker, but the pain was short-lived. Thank goodness. I had resigned myself to riding by myself again, seeing that I was visibly slowing down Chris, but he was within sight. I passed him fixing his water bottle cage just before the trail, and stopped there to use the restroom. Chris caught up here.

Centennial Trail's gentle little climb has always owned me, but today the story was a bit better. Although I lost Chris again, I found myself in the company of a woman who had just bought a bike, and was trying out clip-less pedals for the first time. "How long does it take for one to get used to these things?" she asked. This brought back memories of my first first clip-less pedals usage in 2001. We engaged in some friendly conversation, and the topic came around to how far I was riding today. I just told her that I was out to get to Snohomish. She mentioned seeing a lot of "you people" near the end of the trail where she got on (this meant that they were at least 3 hours ahead of me).. ;)

She took off into the distance, and I settled into a comfortable rhythm, the blinkie lights of Chris gradually fading off into the distance. I got to Machias station, and saw Mark Thomas again, signing cards in lieu of the info control question. He truly was all over the course. Lyn Gill, Jennifer Chang and Bill Gobie were preparing to leave just as I entered. Chris had already made himself comfortable.

We all know that Mark is a class act, but he goes above and beyond: He offered to come and pick me up at the finish and drive me home. Thanks Mark, for all you do.

Machias to Woodinville

After eating some chips and donning our night gear, we set off down the trail again. Chris decided to stick with me, and we rode together all the way up the climbs on Springhetti and Broadway. Broadway just climbs forever. Its several false flats are annoying to say the least, and we finally got to Yew and made it safely across 522 to the turn on Bostian. Now this road also owns me. I lost Chris here, and didn't meet him until the control. Traffic was non-existent so I survived by zig-zagging up some of the steep ones. I arrived in Woodinville at the stroke of 10p.

Woodinville to Finish

Bill Gobie, Lyn Gill and Jennifer Chang were getting ready to leave again. Chris took off too about a couple of minutes ahead of me. I figured he was cooling down, and had to take off. A scintillating descent later, I spotted Chris a half a mile away from me, and all my insane attempts at catching up to him failed. I settled into a comfortable rhythm on the trail, which was completely deserted. The tree roots were a bit annoying though, but nothing to really whine about. A few miles away from the finish I saw some blinking taillights again, and caught up to Jennifer Chang.

It had been a while since I met her (on my ill-fated DNF of the 4-Pass 600), and we caught up on "old" times. I was a little confused about where to get off the trail, and we stopped and chatted with some U-Dub students, and they eased my mind a bit. Jennifer also seemed to know the area, so we stuck together, and Jennifer let out a "So, we're going to finish" when she saw the QFC.

We rolled into the Pub at exactly 11:40. 17 hours and 40 minutes. Bill and Lyn had finished 10 minutes earlier. The kind organizers, David Harper and Gary Prince, were with Bill Gobie, sitting inside nursing their drinks, and Jennifer and I joined them. The food tasted so good.

Ron Himschoot finished a few minutes later.

Epilogue

I received a message from Jason Dul. He trounced his 17:03 previous best with a 15:11. Way to go! Bill made a habit of leaving controls just as I was arriving. I think next time I will wear some cologne.

My thanks to all the volunteers: You pre-rode in not-so-great weather, had excellent food at the controls, were all over the course, stayed late at the finish, ordered perfect weather for us, and made it a fine day to ride. See you on the 400!

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.

R-12 #2 completed

Short version: Finished the Three Rivers Cruise Permanent in 10:46 to complete my second R-12. Au Revoir!

Long version, below:

I have been off to Europe for darn near three weeks, but I had some unfinished business over in Randonneuring land before I could leave: my July 200k ride. I started rather late (around 8.45 on a day that promised to be hot. (I should have left early and maximized my time in the cooler temperatures).

Start to Marblemount

- I stopped in Darrington for food and water, and met Andrew, a Coloradoan bicycle touring from Steamboat Springs, and spoke to him for 20+ minutes.

- Nice tailwind on Highway 530.

- Lots of traffic on Highway 20. Hhhmmn...

- I got to Marblemount in 5 hours. Maybe I can finish this ride in 10 hours or so?

Marblemount to Concrete

- Headwind: not bad. Heat: not so good.

- Crawled up the not-so-steep climb to Rockport State Park, and took refuge in the shade.

- Regrouped by getting more water at the State Park.

- Stopped at the convenience store in Concrete before the turn, and chatted with some teenagers on bikes. It's always great to stun the young crowd. (The bathroom was disgusting. Would not recommend this store).

- Chip-seal on South Skagit Highway as nasty as ever. The heat was bad. Traffic: low.

- Ran out of water just past the information control, and knocked on a house to get some water. A very helpful lady tied up her dog and gave me bottled water. Thanks very much!

- Rested in the shade a little bit and then took off for Clear Lake.

- Getting off the chip-seal was awesome...

- Stopped at the store in Clear Lake to get some more water, and some Ice Cream.

Clear Lake to Finish

- Had a bit of a cross-wind but felt good on the rollers of Highway 9.

- Stopped once at the bar near the roundabout to get some water and Ice Cream. Chatted with the locals drinking, who warned me that Highway 9 was a bad road for bicyclists. I headed out after thanking them for their warnings.

- Stopped again a little while later to use a porta-potty on a construction site, after getting permission.

- Finished in around 10:45.

- Yaaay! R-12 #2.

SIR Spring 600: Truth in advertising

Prologue

Starting a 600 without first completing a 400 is something I have never done before. Endless promises of a flat 600 had me fantasizing about a strong finish, something very quickly dispelled by the organizer, Albert. "The course is not flat", he said while shuttling between the drop bag truck and the hotel lobby. A lot of new roads, and a lot of familiar roads awaited.

I met a lot of the usual suspects at the start. Michael Huber was there and confessed to being quite strong on the bike this year and was having grand ideas of riding straight through. I found myself on the opposite side of the spectrum. Having DNF'd the 400 in Ephrata (at about 300k), I was wondering how I would fare. My only goal was to finish, and I rode with precisely that aim in mind. I would keep my control stops short, and en route dalliances to a minimum. Three hours of sleep at the overnight would be nice, but not necessary.

Start to Ruston

I rolled out at the back of the pack, having stopped to use the restroom to apply bag balm. We stayed in a big bunch, aided by the red lights on 15th and the West Valley highway, though Bill Alsup, Duane Wright and I were already at the bottom end. I caught up to Rick Haight. Rick volunteered on the PBP qualifier of 2007, and I joked about how I begged for coffee on the road to Whitney, and Kent Peterson, mindful of not supporting outside the controls, offered a "You are only a few miles out of the control!"... He was just getting warmed up and separated himself on the initial incline of Military Road. When I crested that hill, all I could see was The Kramer on his 'bent and Rick pulling away. The pack was gone.

I somehow found myself alone on the turn onto S 360th, and thought Duane would have trouble with this turn, and as I stopped to fix my dropped chain, I saw Duane fly by the turn. I tried waiting for him at the SR 99 intersection, but he didn't show up quickly enough for me. I caught up with Bill and passed a crouched Dan Jensen, fixing a flat. Bill stopped to take a picture of the bridge and I kept riding (having left the camera at home as a time-saving measure). The trail along the water was full of runners and even some cyclists getting their bikes off their cars. I got through the tunnel, and crested the little hill to the first control at Ruston, where I was met by Robin and Amy Pieper, and Charlie White and his son.I had about an hour in the bank. This was unexpected good news.

Ruston to Waterman Point

Amy and Robin filled my water bottles, and after a brief discussion on who was behind me, I left for the next control. The left turn onto Pearl put me in the company of a few "normal" bike riders, and on a mostly shoulder-less road with cars trying to get to the start of a run. I was off the madness quickly though and onto the Tacoma Narrows bridge which shares quite a few similarities with Vancouver's Lions Gate Bridge: Great views and Green in colour.

After a nice scenic stretch next to the water in a still sleepy Gig Harbour, I found myself on some of the roads that we rode on the Tahuya 200 last year, except in reverse. Orchard Road bit me a couple of times, the first bite forcing me to zig zag. The second bite was a bit less painful than the first, and reminded me of Port Gamble Road. After some more riding along the water, Dan Jensen caught up to me, and we rode maybe a mile together before we found ourselves face to face with Eric Vigoren, manning this control.

Waterman Point to Cosmopolis

After a few cookies, some nice catching up, and a visit to the porta-potty, I took off with Dan Jensen. He was clearly a faster ride than I was, and dropped me, but I passed him when he stopped to take a picture and then went to a bike shop. On Clifton Road we passed by Anderson Hill Road, and I could only think of thanking Albert for resisting the temptation to put us on that three-headed monster during daylight hours.

This section - Clifton Road - was a low point for me. There was a nagging uphill grade, a headwind and I found myself not going fast enough for my liking. However, Feigley Road changed all that. The descent was awesome but somewhat ruined by a pickup truck illegally backing uphill to make a left turn. I wasn't going down quite as fast as I usually go, and that saved me from just rear-ending the idiot.

The day was quite beautiful and a lot of cyclists were out riding their bikes. As I slowed down to make the left turn onto West Belfair, a couple of riders stopped on the road to ask me about the ride we were on. They knew we were together, and I did my best to give them a 2-minute summary of what we do. They were suitably impressed when I described the ride I was on. I gave them our website, but I think that a few little scraps of paper with our website written on it would be a brilliant idea. We parted with mutual wishes for a good ride.

This section of W Belfair was new to me, as I had only ridden it in the opposite direction on last years Tahuya 200. More flat riding, and as I went by Bear Creek - Dewatto Road, I uttered another round of thanks to Albert. It certainly looked like he spared us some major heartburn. After a brief jaunt on the high-traffic SR3, we were led to the chip-seal hell that is SR 106. I arrived at the Union Country Store, filled my water bottles and took off again, while Dan Jensen waited to get a sandwich.

Oh, I forgot to mention this. Since my DNF because of running out of food, I kept a solid supply of food on board. This was perhaps overkill, but I figured I needed the practice. I have cycled many a time on SR 106, but never on Purdy Cutoff road. It was a lovely stretch of road, and I greatly enjoyed the shady respite it offered. My shorts were rubbing me raw, and I stopped to put on some bag balm, and traffic got backed up behind me (I thought it was a low traffic road!). Dan passed me here.

After a steady slog uphill, I made the turn onto Dayton Airport Road, but the stretch to Matlock was new terrain. Mostly flat but the wind wasn't cooperating. I made good progress and just as I got into the Matlock store, I saw Dan Jensen pulling out. I didn't see any other rider until the overnight in Centralia. I refueled at the Matlock store and stayed about 10 minutes. Gatorade, some salted peanuts and more PowerBars. When I left the store I was met with an immediate gust of wind that told me that the wind wouldn't be doling out any favours today. It was put-your-head-down-and-slog time. Some clear cuts, some forests and distant mountains. Oh, and some "transformation centers" (Euphemism for "Pray the Gay away" ?). I also spotted what looked like Nuclear Power plant cooling towers a little before Monte-Elma Road.

The wind was nothing compared to the 4 mile stretch of chip-seal hell called Monte-Elma Road. In previous years, we have ridden this entire stretch, but today was only 4.2 miles, but I was still glad to get off it. I didn't think to stop at the Bakery in Montesano this time around. Blue Slough Road was another lovely stretch, completely shaded and totally traffic free. Lovely, indeed. I arrived at Cosmopolis with plenty of time to spare. I was greatly disappointed to see that Dan Jensen had already left. I was hoping to coax him into riding a slower pace with me at night.

Cosmopolis to Westport

A lot of brevets go through towns and villages instead of cities, and you do meet a different kind of humanity here. The Cosmopolis Chevron had a nice owner who promised to keep his store open an hour later than normal and I made it a point to refuel all my food and hydration stores here to show a small measure of gratitude for such kindness. I also informed him about Bill and Duane being behind me, and that he probably wouldn't have to stay open until 10. I left fairly quickly as I wanted to get to Westport before dark.

A nice wind-aided stretch followed where the only source of trouble was the shoulder-less bridges. However, these were dispatched with aplomb, and I found myself at Westport fairly quickly.

Westport to Rainbow Falls State Park

I had promised myself a bit of a breather here, but considering the wind, I took off in about 10 minutes after filling up on water and food, and using the restroom. I knew that darkness would fall on this stretch, so I wore my reflective ankle bands, but left my jacket off. I had brought leg warmers, but it looked like that would be overkill. The shoulder was filled with debris and a few miles out of Westport I started to ride on the main road, and moved into the shoulder only when I spied a car in my helmet mirror.

To avoid psyching myself out over the distance to the overnight control, I folded the route sheet to the Raymond turn, and focused on getting my butt to Raymond. The Peninsula is a great place to ride. Mostly flat, little traffic and features the soft sounds of waves crashing on the beach. I made good time, but about two-thirds of the way to Raymond, I stopped to don my jacket and reflective vest. I also turned on my E-delux light, a birthday gift from my wife.

What a difference this light made!! It is a totally awesome light. The E6 has a yellowish light, but the E-delux throws a white light. I had it mounted on my front rack braze-on, and though there was some wheel shadow, the light was simply superb. Pricey, but good. It light up at far lower speeds than the E6 and features a standlight, which is a great addition.

I got to Raymond in good time, and since I was ok in terms of food and water, didn't bother to ride into town for either of those necessities. I had trouble getting the left turn light onto SR6 to trigger and used the pedestrian sign to get it to turn on. I was starting to feel a bit tired a few miles out of Raymond, but kept on, hoping I would see a grocery store where I could get some coffee. Having woken up at 4a to catch a ride with Duane, I was starting to feel a bit sleepy, and after about 15 miles, I saw a sign for a tavern in Lebam, and figuring I'd take a chance, I entered. A little apprehensively, I admit.

There were only two patrons (read: drunks) there, but the bartender was a friendly sort. They already knew about what we were doing, so I guessed that other riders must have stopped here for refreshments. They were full of conversation: "You have to ride to Centralia, huh? That's a far ways away", one quipped, while the other filled me up on the long and steep climb ahead of me in the next three to four miles. Not to be outdone, the first one made comments about bears, mountain lions and drunks ("like myself", he said). I never got the impression that they were trying to scare me, just filling me in on the road ahead. :)

I got Coffee with some milk and sugar and after making quick work of it, I got up to pay, but was told that the coffee was on the house. Awesome! I thanked the patrons, and the bartender and made my way out, refreshed. It was only a 10 minute stop, but it was a very welcome stop. Now fully awake (those months of drinking decaf now suddenly seeming worthwhile), I continued on. I half-hoped Bill or Duane would catch up to me, but that didn't happen. The roads were traffic free and I made excellent time, even climbing hard amid a very soft rain and enjoying the descent. I made the left turn onto Pe Ell, and only then did fold the route sheet all the way to the Centralia Control. When I got to Rainbow Falls state park, I saw a red blinky and turned left into the park looking for Paul.

I didn't find Paul. The time was now 2.05a. I had made good time, and with any luck I'd get my three hours of sleep tonight. I rode all over the park, but it looked purely residential. I started yelling "Paul, Paul", in the vain hopes that they might hear me. I met a trucker who told me that they were on a turn next to where the bridge was washed out. So, I made my way out of the park and onto a second road, where disaster struck.

I was met by three barking dogs, the smallest of which went straight for my ankle. It was too late when I realized what the stupid thing was about to do, but I had the presence of mind to kick out and off it went whining. I fought off the other two with my front wheel, and as the clearly inebriated owners fought to maintain control of their dogs, I fought with the dogs to stop them from mistaking me for food.

Finally order was restored, and I asked for help in the form of a phone call. One of the family members actually drove out to go see where the control was. (I didn't realize this). To say I was incensed at this point would be a severe understatement. My inability to find the control, the dogs, the wasted half hour all added up. I called Albert to ask about the control, but I used an F-word "adjective" to describe the control (I apologized to Albert at the finish). Albert didn't know where it was, and referred to Peter, who tried to calm me by telling me that getting mad wasn't productive. He asked me to continue on SR 6 and that I would find it. I thanked the couple and left, and a few hundred yards down the road, I was met by a girl who slowed down to tell me that "they" were setup a mile or two down the road. I thanked her and kept riding.

I got to the Rainbow Falls Control at 2.45a, about 35 minutes behind schedule.

Rainbow Falls Control to Centralia

I was met by a smiling Paul Johnson, Sheila Johnson and John Vincent. I was still seething from my lost time, and after a few minutes of ranting and raving, and poor Paul apologizing profusely, I sat down and was treated to a great array of Vegetarian food (excellent Szechuan Noodles). John took my bike, Sheila gave me food and drink, and Paul fought with Raccoons, that were trying to get their hands on some randonneur goodies.

After some pleasant conversation (I stopped being an a-hole), I left around 3a. I told them that Bill and Duane were behind me, and that I hadn't seen them for well over 200 miles. I didn't even know if they were still riding at this point. I was now feeling the effects of the 230-odd miles that I had ridden, but the last few miles went by without incident. I do remember riding by Curtis Hill Road and thanking Albert yet again.

I got to Centralia at 4.37a and was met by Peter Beeson, and some others getting ready to leave. Peter took my bike and escorted me to my room.

Day 2, 7:20a: Centralia to Morton

I told them I was good on food, and after asking for a 645a wake up call, I brushed my teeth, showered, and hit the sack at 4.45a. Yes, 8 minutes. The next instant Peter was waking me up. I brushed my teeth, changed into bike clothing and took off around 7.10am, but had to turn back when I got confused by the route sheet. Peter set me straight, and I rode on worried about the measly 2 hour buffer I had.

I had ridden Centralia-Alpha road in the other direction with Peg and Allison in 2007. It wasn't that terrible, but then I was in great shape that year. This year would be payback. I saw Matt Dalton and another rider fiddling with their bikes at the base of the initial climb, but they started back up, and disappeared around the turn, before I could get to them. I slowly climbed the initial leg, and as it flattened out, I saw Peg down the hill behind me.

She caught up to me on one of the steep sections, and when I hit the top. she was gone. I just slogged through this section. I knew I would be losing time, and I didn't care. I just wanted to make the Morton control on time and I would see what I could do after that. SR 508 was another hard stretch. I didn't have energy and I started stopping to eat my PowerBars. Apart from one nasty climb SR 508 was all right, but my legs weren't. It was just that the 250 miles I had ridden the previous day were getting to me. I took frequent breaks to adjust clothing and eat.

When I am tired, I try and ways to introduce some humour into my ride. One such instance was when I saw a mailbox with the name Studhalter on it. I don't know if you know my sense of humour but it leans towards the juvenile. My immediate reaction: that last name would be a death sentence to a woman. She might as well have been called Ugly. I know this is not funny now, but for some weird reason, it offered me comic relief for a few miles. Eventually SR 508 flattened out and I was riding next to a nice river, and arriving into Morton. I saw Peg leaving the control. She would be the last rider I saw on the ride. I wish I had ridden a bit fast and left with her, but it was too late.

Morton to Enumclaw

I had about 3 hours in the bank when I got into Morton. Feeling tired despite having taken many a breather everywhere I decided to stay about 15 minutes. I bought some Powerade, some salted Cashew nuts, Sprite, more PowerBars and some jojos. The jojos were very poorly made, but I still ate them knowing that there would be some more climbing. I used the restroom, chatted with the friendly clerk, and rested my head on the table.

I filled the Powerade in my water bottle and left Morton on SR7 with a nice crosswind. Shortly after the control, the road tilted up, and traffic was pretty high. The jojos I ate gave me horrible heartburn, and I didn't like this section as a result. The shoulder was inadequate, and I slowly made my way up the climb. I stopped a few times to "adore the scenery". I got to Summit Cr at 1700+ feet, and then had a nice descent into Elbe.

I tried to stop at the bar, but it was overrun by bikers (the motorized kind). One of them commented "So, you made it here all the way from Canada, eh?", looking at my BC Randonneurs jersey. I left the area before they started "joking" more. The wind was now in my face, but Alder Cutoff saved me from the wind, and threw me onto a hill, with cars buzzing by. There was a fantastic downhill on SR 161, and we turned onto Orville Road.

Now, I had great dreams for Orville Road. I was hoping it would be a quiet road with no traffic and lots of views of Lake Kapowsin and Lake Ohop. I stopped to eat off the side of the road, and was met by the rudest honk off a guy driving a huge pickup. He gave me the "get moving sign", but all he had to to was go around me. When I motioned for him to go around me, he threw up his arms in disgust. I wasn't very happy with this, and said "hey", and threw up my arms in disgust. He drove a few feet away and then stopped to backup, but there were other cars behind him, and he just took off. I kept a wary eye out for him.

Pickups, pickups, and more pickups. The surface was not the greatest either, and it had the kind of short choppy lumps that were pretty annoying. My heartburn showed no sign of abating, but my appetite was still there. The grades on some of the gravel roads that led off of Orville Road were unreal. I stopped to admire as an SUV drove down one of those inclines, and progress was slow. It seemed like some sleep would help, but there was nowhere I could stop and nap.

The right turn to stay on Orville Road helped the quality of the people on it. I stopped to admire another nice view before a descent (or I may be making this up). After a few miles I stumbled upon some grass by the side of the road (near an entrance to an RV Park), and napped for a good 20 minutes. My aim was twofold: to allow Bill Alsup to catchup, and get some rest. The constant steady stream of traffic was my way of making sure I didn't sleep for a few hours.

Of all the signs you want to see in this world, "Volcano Evacuation Route" is not what you want to see at the end of a 600k. But my sleep had refreshed me, and though I wouldn't say I powered up the hill, I got there in good time. My mother called to talk. Talking to her was refreshing, even if she didn't understand why I was doing it. I turned left on to familiar roads now, having done the Redmond - Carbon Glacier only last month. The small climb just past Buckley was a kicker, but I arrived at the Enumclaw Control with plenty of time to spare.

Enumclaw to the Finish

I bought some Sprite, some salted cashew nuts, and a couple of PowerBars, and I knew that I would finish in under 37 hours. That felt good. I helped a woman operate the gas pump (she didn't know how to get that thing started). I left after about 15 minutes. The next section was completely known, except the little stretch past Main Street in Auburn (Leschi - Auburn - Leschi permanent). As I rode up the last little incline, my bike suddently downshifted, and the chain fell off, but only after making an awful noise. I stopped to put the chain back on, but I found that the chain had wedged itself between the chainstay and the small chainring. This was not good. I knew there was a killer descent onto Green Valley Road, and I could basically walk my way to the finish in under the time limits.

I tried doing all kinds of things, jiggling it, trying brute-force, and finessing it. Nothing worked. I flipped my bike over and started to work on getting the chain off, when a car pulled over and asked me if I wanted a ride somewhere. He was a cyclist himself, and when I told him about the ride, he immediately parked his car, and came over to help. We discussed our options, and he said he didn't haveto tools to get the chain off. I replied that I did, and he offered to get the thing off. After what seemed like 10 minutes of jiggling, he finally pulled it off! He was my saviour! And, I didn't even get his name.

I thanked him profusely, and he didn't even complain about having to work on a dirty chain! I wasted about 30 minutes in the process. Oh well. I knew that the finish was less than an hours ride away. The descent to 212th and then onto Green Valley Road was awesome. Green Valley Road was uneventful, but this was the first time I rode in this direction. It felt completely different. I felt strong on the bike, and soon I was cruising past Main Street and onto heavily trafficked roads. I could finally relax. I was going to make it. It is possible to finish a 600 without a 400. I finished in 37:39.

Albert was there at the hotel lobby. The room had Beer, Pizza and snacks. I shoved my face with whatever I could get my hands on, and then called my wife to let her know that I finished. Albert told me that Duane had decide to end his ride someplace near Cosmopolis, and decided to get a room in Aberdeen. I met Karel from Montana. As I was getting ready to hit the showers, Bill finished. He was only 20 minutes behind me, but he had really hammered to the finish. He had a lot of off the bike time that really added up. Karel and I discussed some permanent options that he could do if he wanted to try for an R-12. The Colbert-Metaline falls permanent (seldom ridden) was something he expressed some interest in, but it isn't rideable in the winter. Talking to him made me realize how lucky we all are to have such a living thriving randonneuring community right at our doorstep. And our weather. I know we love to complain, but atleast we can do 200's in the winter. Montanans cannot.

Thanks to all the wonderful volunteers on this ride. The Rainbow Falls control was excellent and so was the support at the overnight. It was a great 600. And it most certainly was NOT flat.

Epilogue

Duane had sent word that he would like me to call him, and when I did, he offered to come and get me. I thought his car was still in Auburn and so he was coming down with his friend to come and get his car. I showered and waited for Duane, and talked with Karel. When I left the hotel, I found out that Duane had driven down just to get me. It turns out that Duane had already retrived his car in the morning, and was just offering to come and pick me up. Duane's Nice!

SIR 400k Pre-ride: A rookie mistake.

I will update this post with photos once I have had a chance to upload them.. :(

Short version

DNF!

Had the beginnings of a cold. Didn't bank much time at any of the controls. Had 26 minutes at Farmer, where I just stopped to take a picture of the hall. Had an hour and 8 minutes at Pateros. Lost time on the section to Twisp. Nice headwind and a crosswind. Rode strong over Loup Loup pass. Had about 40 minutes at the Omak Store. Made good time on Columbia River Road, but ran out of food about 5 miles from the turn onto 155. Called Shane and Chantel, who came and picked me up: he said I was slurring my words, which is not a good sign.

In hindsight, I should have just asked him to bring me some food and continued, but I didn't want to get support outside of the controls. I learnt that I needed to carry more food than necessary. This was particularly stupid, because I carried lots of food for the first 75 miles which lasted me almost till Omak. So, it is not as though I am stupid all the time, but, in this case, with no support until Electric City, my mistake got magnified.

Long Version

Prologue

Duane and I drove together to the start, and had a nice dinner with the pre-riders at a restaurant in Ephrata. We Woke up early, and got dressed up for the early morning chill. It was cold at the start, maybe in the 40s. There were several of us: Geoff Swarts, Matt Dalton, Mark Thomas, Mike Norman, Thomas Martin, myself, Duane Wright, Tom Brett, and Bob Brudvik. This was an almost entirely new route to me. The only section that I was familar with was the section on 97 from the 97A intersection to Pateros, and the section from Pateros to Twisp, both of which I rode on the 2006 1000k. Not what I would call "hard".

Ephrata to Farmer

The first section was to go through the Sagebrush Flats, and the Moses Coulee. "A whole lot of nothing" quipped Mark Thomas. Kent Peterson that quotable ex-randonneur once said of the Sagebrush Flat "It gets the 'flat' part its name for the same reason that three-hundred pound tattooed Harley riders are sometimes named '"Tiny'. It is a description that stuck to me. Since there were no services for the first 75 miles, I was well stocked up with food and water: I had 3 Bananas, 3 PowerBars and 12 Pepperidge Farm cookies in my bag, and two water bottles. I stashed a 1-liter bottle of water in my Carradice.

The road tilted up immediately, and Duane and I quickly dropped back, while the group took off ahead of us. Duane was riding his fixed-gear, an insane choice considering the length of some of the climbs and the descents. To top this off, he had just ran a marathon the previous weekend. Not my idea of a recovery ride. The terrain was mostly dry, not much vegetation except sagebrush. The first few miles were mostly up, and once we got to the "top" of the climb, we had a nice descent on which I lost Duane. I descend like a rock, and Duane was on fixed-gear. I didn't know this then, but this was the last I would see of Duane for a while.

After a couple of bone-jarring gravel stretches of just a few feet in length, I got to a T-junction. The route sheet said make a left turn onto Highway 2, and that didn't register until I started riding towards a sign that said Highway 2 West. This was a steady climb again, and I soft-pedaled several times to let Duane catch up. But he was nowhere in sight. I had a bit of a tailwind as I approached th Farmer Control. I took a few pictures and checked th clock, and sure enough, I only had about 26 minutes in the bank.

Farmer to Pateros

My mental strength on rides is directly proportional to how well I am riding. If I am too close to the cut-offs I am not at my happiest. I ate a couple of cookies and left immediately from Farmer, and was met with long rollers. Spectacular views of the mountains everywhere, but the immediate vicinity was mostly farms. The rollers on this stretch were vicious. The paucity of training miles showed. Every mile there would be a road cutting across, going to some farm, but apart from that there was precious little.

I turned onto McNeil Canyon Road and was met with more uphills, but a little while later, I stopped to see if Duane was behind me. I thought I saw his jacket, but I wasn't too sure. I kept on and after some climbing, I saw a sign that said "McNeil Pass Summit". I hadn't expected to be climbing a mountain pass, but this was another pass climbed. The next few miles were all downhill, and I lost altitude like I have never done before: I didn't touch the brakes once, but the winds were vicious. Tucking in helps lose in minutes what one spends hours to climb.

I thought about stopping at Beebe park for water, but I had a half a bottle. I thought about turning back, but decided to keep going to save time. The day was warming up and I stopped to take off some clothing, and who should swing by but Shane, who gave me a hearty hug. I hadn't met him since we rode the Three Rivers Cruise permanent right after PBP 2007. It was fun catching up with Shane and Chantel. I got some water from him and took off again, aided by a nice tailwind. Familiar roads again. I rode this stretch at night in 2006 and it was good to see the sights during the day. I got to Pateros a couple of minutes before noon, and had about an hour and 12 minutes in the bank.

Pateros to Twisp

Shane was here to sign my card, and I filled my water bottles again with the left over water from the previous riders. Apparently the other riders had left only 15 minutes earlier, but coupled with my 10 minute stay here, I was 25 minutes behind. I had no chance of catching up with anybody. I left without waiting for Duane, figuring that his superior speed would help him catch up. The road follows the Methow river, and the wind was picking up a little bit. I had a headwind for the most part, and it turned into a cross-wind after a few miles. I saw people on boats coming down the Methow, and stopped to take pictures of interesting road names, bridges and the river itself.

I was heading straight towards an area with dark clouds and about 10 miles, I was pelted by a brief shower of sorts which dried off almost immediately. I went by the store in Carlton not buying anything as I still had a PowerBar, a Banana and about 7 cookies. Just before the Highway 20 turn off, I knocked on a house for water, but nobody was around. I just filled up water from their hose. I now had about 50 minutes in the bank. Not very good with a mountain pass coming up.

Twisp to Omak

I decided to just follow the route sheet instead of the discussed Lower Beaver Creek Road. The road tilted up for a bit, but flattened out for pretty much the rest of the way. I first tried accelerating every few hundred meters and then slacking off, but that burned me too quickly, so I just started pedalling at a consistent rate. The shoulder was not that awesome, but the grade was quite gentle. I reached the summit of Loup Loup pass in about 2 hours and 18 minutes, which put my speed at just about 5-6 miles an hour. I took a few photographs, and then left.

The descent from Loup Loup for the next 7 miles was something else. Going West on this Pass would be a bit of a pain, but I was going down this time. I had a steep pitch after 7 miles and that got me crawling again, but it wasn't for very long. I really enjoyed that 7 mile stretch: it was my high-point of the ride. I stopped to eat the last of my cookies and got to Omak around 7.20, but not before I got confused about the Main Street turn (it was 2 miles further than advertised). I had 40 minutes in the bank. Not very much, but I still had a shot at finishing.

Omak to DNF

I always pictured Omak to be a cute little town, but sadly it wasn't. Oh well.

I bought and stashed three Bananas for the road ahead. I filled up my water bottles, and then sat down to eat the Cheese Burrito that I also bought. I thought for an instant if it was adequate food, and then I remembered thinking that Shane would be some 40 miles up the road in Nespelem. Figuring that I would last 40 miles on the food I had, I waited for Duane. A bunch of kids on bikes chatted with me as I waited. I told them that I was headed to Nespelem, and they said "Wow! That's far", almost in unison. I also dressed up for the night. I made two critical mistakes here: I forgot to buy a Starbucks DoubleShot and extra food. My plan was to restock with Shane and Chantel.

Around 7.40, I figured I had to get a move on. I left Omak and turned right on to Columbia River Road. I expected it to be a very quiet road, which it was. The road surface wasn't bad either. I thought the road would follow the river downstream, which meant a whole lotta downhills, but sadly that wasn't true. The road was rolling, and I ate the first of my Bananas a little too quickly for comfort. I was feeling strong however. The hills weren't that bad and the wind had completely died down. Darkness set in, and the only things I heard were the buzzing of my tyres, critters and barking dogs. After a brilliant Sunset, I saw the Columbia River flowing to my left, and the road tilted up again. I was treated to a most spectacular moonrise above some lake, which I enjoyed greatly.

I eat a lot when I climb a lot, and this meant that I was eating the second of my bananas even before I got to about the 20 mile point. I still felt good. After about 10 miles, I ate the last of my bananas and that was when I knew I was in trouble. I thought I still had 10 something miles to go before I could possibly get my hands on food, but I was wrong about that too.

Usually pretty good about just being in the present and not worrying about the road ahead, I started thinking about the 70 miles or so that I had to the finish. This was my first clue that I was "off". I stopped for about 5 minutes to try and gather my thoughts, and I started riding again. The road tilted severely up, and I found myself having no energy to turn the pedals. I was falling asleep on the bike, and zig-zagged up this climb, whose top I couldn't see. I was completely demoralized. I knew that there would be nothing open in Nespelem, and I knew that I didn't have the energy to get to wherever Shane was.

I thought I could stop somebody and get some food, started flagging down cars, but nobody stopped. It didn't look like I was going to make it to Nespelem. It is very hard to identify the exact process by which one says "I am going to DNF", but mine came half-way up the climb to Nespelem. I was tired, hungry, and demoralized. I started walking up the hill, thinking if I could only get to the top of this climb, I would be ok. After all, I had more than an hour in the bank. But even walking felt hard.

I called Shane to let him know that I was done. I was apparently slurring my words, and not really coherent. I sat down and a car pulled up. It was a driver asking if I needed help. I asked him to give me a ride to Nespelem where Shane would come and pick me up. Shane and Chantel showed up a little while later. I got something to eat, and we loaded up my bike in their car and went looking for Duane, who I had not seen since that climb to McNeil Pass. We couldn't locate him. We loaded up the car and headed back to Ephrata.

We were really worried about Duane, but he showed up around 9.30. He had ridden through the night after taking several catnaps. That was pretty good. We drove back on Sunday, stopping at Ellensburg for a nice lunch.

I rode Redmond-Carbon Glacier the following week in 10:43. My first sub-11 hour 200k in a while... That kept my R-12 streak going :)