John’s Ramblings

Just about this time last year, I saw the website for the Mt. Adams Country Bike Tour in Trout Lake, Washington.  It was too late to plan a trip there in naught-seven, so this was the year to go.

Several of the other Green River Riders also put this ride on their to-do list, and opted to camp/RV in White Salmon, Washington.  Terri was willing to do another 4 hour drive to one of my bike rides, but as compensation we would not rough it as far as accomodations go.  I’d call that a fair enough trade, with the bonus that I wouldn’t be camped on a small patch of grass nestled between Hwy 14 and the Burlington-Northern/Santa Fe Railroad.  We stayed across the Columbia in Hood River, Oregon.  I picked a Bed and Breakfast called Villa Columbia, solely from their website.  Great choice.  The house is beautiful, and the hosts are very nice.  After checking in to our room, we refueled at the Full Sail Brewery and Pub.  Hood River isn’t the cheapest city to eat and lodge in, but we loved the small-town feel with big-town amenities like 3 brewpubs, several wineries, and great dining options.  I would strongly consider a return trip to spend more time exploring the town, and the road cycling possibilities.

Saturday’s forecast for Trout Lake was for 98 degrees Farenheit, so I wanted to make an early start to the day.  Since we were staying 35 miles away, this meant leaving the B&B before 6:30 a.m.  Breakfast (the second “B” in “B&B”) isn’t until 8 a.m., Boba (the owner) made us a breakfast to go, and stashed it in the fridge for us.  We made it to Trout Lake shortly after 7.  We were told that the second of the two 50 mile loops, the “Forest Loop“, was closed due to heavy snow on the road.  You could still ride the route, but it would be 15 miles up, then back.  They were also recommending that riders do the “Valley Loop” first to avoid the heat at the lower elevations later in the day.  Not having heard from my Green River Rider compatriots, I opted to start the Valley Loop with Terri, thinking that they would eventually catch up to us.  Terri and I assumed that at some point we would split up due to our different pace and mileage goals, and that I would end the day riding with the faster group after a more leisurely pace in the morning.

The morning was beautiful, and we enjoyed our leisurely spin through farm and ranch land.  Temperature at the start was somewhere in the low 60’s and the sky was crystal-clear.  It was more than one occasion during this stretch where you would have a view of Mt. Adams on your left (like the one above), and a view of Mt. Hood on your right (like the one below).

After five miles or so, we turned left onto Hwy 141 for a long descent to BZ Corner. From there we turned left and began to pay for all that descent. The first climb was about 3 miles long, where it flattened out for a mile before kicking up again for 2 or so more miles. Terri completely bonked on the climb, and ended up walking to the rest stop at the top. Knowing that the situation would only get worse as the day heated up, we called her riding day complete. The problem was that the SAG support on the ride was practically non-existent. In order to get her from back to the start, I rode back down to BZ Corner, then back up that long descent to the car, for about 12 “bonus miles” for the day. I loaded my bike, drove to the rest stop, unloaded my bike, loaded Terri’s bike, and rejoined the route about 2 hours after I had left it.

The rest stop, by the way, had the following:

• 1 porta-pottie
• a plate of cookies
• mini bagels with peanut butter (smooth), no jam
• boiled potato hunks
• 2 thermos jugs of cold water

Hey John, didn’t your muscles tighten up during that whole driving the car thing? Why yes, they did.  And no, I didn’t stretch before or after my “rescue the damsel in distress” moment.  But John, wasn’t it getting pretty dang hot by now? Absolutely.  Hey genius, wouldn’t a rational person decide to just call it a day at this point, knowing it was going to get close to 100 degrees in a short period of time? Yes, a rational person would.  I was obviously already suffering from cloudy thinking at this point as I clicked back in to the pedals with just my two water bottles.  Didn’t you start the day with your bottles AND a Camelbak? Yes, but there would be plenty of water stops along the route, I thought, so I left the Camelbak in the car with Terri.  Bad move.  The next water stop was a mile or so after the top of the next climb, an unmanned stop.  As it turns out, the stop was not only unmanned, it was unwatered as well.

I consumed one entire bottle during that second climb, so I then had to make 1 bottle last for the next 16 or so miles until the next rest stop.  While the scenery was lovely, the temperature continued to climb past 100 degrees.  I saw some riders stopped alongside the road, sitting under a tree.  As it turns out, they were waiting for a SAG wagon to pick them up, which never arrived.  In fact, I only saw a SAG wagon (unmarked) once, and that was on the last hill of the day.  This couple ended up getting rescued by the personal support vehicle of my friends the Green River Riders!

The second staffed rest stop had water, cookies, bagels, and a hose which I used to spray my head and face with cold water.  They also had sample-sized Larabars which I no longer had the hand-strength to open, apparently.  Some old dude offered to help me by pulling a wire clipper out of his pocket and snipping the package.  As I put the morsel into my mouth, he announced that wire clippers were handy for everything, including clipping his fingernails.  Thanks for the additional info, and no, I don’t want to know what that crunchy-bit was that I just swallowed).

The last 10 miles were brutally hot.  The maximum air temp as measured by my Polar HRM was 107 degrees.  Due to the position of the sun vs. the direction of travel, “our” side of the rode had zero shade, but the opposite side had maybe 30% shade.  Most riders opted to ride on the wrong side of the road, only venturing to the proper side when you heard the occasional vehicle approach in the distance.  I knew that I was approaching my limits to deal with the heat and the hills, so I stopped at least once in the middle of each climb to stand in the shade and let my heart rate come down (which took longer and longer to come down with each hill).  Once again I made it to the finish line, but it was far from pretty.  I finished at 2:30 p.m., 66 miles and 3700′ of hot climbing later.

This is absolutely beautiful country, and the roads are in splendid condition.  There was only one stretch of a mile or so with chip-seal pavement.  If the weather had been a little less extreme, I would probably have come away from the ride with a more favorable view of the event.  I was disappointed that the organizers made no effort to at least post on their website that half the course would be closed due to snow, which sounded like it was going to be the most scenic half.  More disappointing was that the SAG and water support were inadequate.  They have no control over the weather, but they do have control over their communication, and the support that they provide (or not).  As we debriefed that evening over a beer, one of my astute colleagues made the observation that rides organized by bike clubs may have a distinct tactical advantage over bike rides organized by business groups (this ride is put on by the Trout Lake Business Owners Association), by virtue of having a better understanding of the needs of cyclists, especially under extreme conditions.

I’d love to ride this route again, but it would have to be with better support.

A lovely evening for a ride last night.  Seven riders assembled at Cycle Therapy for a 6:30 p.m. spin through the valley.

We zipped north into a headwind at slightly less than warp-speed. When most of us headed for a little hillclimb in Tukwila, my personal pace dropped to impulse-power. We regrouped at the top, but the group took a mystery left turn toward Seattle, a move which, if I had followed suit, would have likely meant:

1. another hillclimb or some such indignity, and
2. missing my 8:30 dinner hour with the Mrs.

Not being one to miss an opportunity eat a meal or a skip a hillclimb, I screamed my goodbyes to the disappearing peloton and rode the tailwinds back to Kent. It was a nice little 25 miler, and my knees are still intact for this coming weekend’s Mt. Adams Country Bike Tour. At 100 miles and 6,600′ of climbing, rest and stretching may be the agenda for the remainder of the week.

On a completely different note, professional cyclist David Zabriskie has begun marketing his own brand of chamois cream, DZ Nuts. He claims he’s out to “protect your junk”. I’m tempted to shell out the $22 for a tube (because the marketing guys have my number), but then I’d be tempted to shell out another $22 for the t-shirt (because the marketing guys have my number on speed-dial).

I’ve been wearing this brain-bucket for 3 full seasons now, and the padding inside is showing it’s age, to say the least.  Thousands of miles and gallons of perspiration have left the pads inside the helmet a bit lacking in the looks and comfort department.

Some searching on the internet revealed some dealers capable of selling me replacement pads, but they all seemed to be located in the UK, which seemed a bit far to ship helmet padding. I then stumbled across an entry in the Road Bike Review message boards, where someone said that you can just call Giro customer service to have them send you the replacements… for free!  This seemed like it would be a far more comfortable price-point for me than either shipping pads across the globe, or buying a new helmet.

For future reference, you call Giro at 800-456-2355.  Don’t be alarmed when the machine answers “Bell-Easton”.  Punch the number for “consumers” (not dealers).  Tell them your helmet model and size.  Give them your address.  Done.  I called last Thursday, and my new pads arrived in the mail today.  Then:

Remove old pads (they are velcro’d in place).

Install new pads.

Admire handiwork.

Put on head, ride bike.

Saving money is a good thing.  Even if the pads would have only cost me $10 bucks, that will buy a couple of malted-barley recovery beverages at my local watering hole after I try out my reupholstered helmet.

I went down to Cycle Therapy (local bike store) to join up with the Tuesday night ride.  Five riders showed, and we started out on a southerly route in order to have the tailwinds when we were headed home.  We did much of the ride in the neighborhood of 20 mph, which is a pretty good workout for this aging body.

Riding with a group of younger / faster / competitive riders serves the very useful purpose of challenging me to ride harder and faster than I would on my own.  There’s no way that I have the mental focus to go out by myself and ride for 75 minutes at 20 mph.  Won’t happen.  I get easily distracted, stop to take pictures, and generally lose focus on the goal of riding fast for a sustained period.  Having to hang on to a wheel and then having to take my “pull” at the front of the group without dropping the pace forces me to step up my game.

Toward the end of the ride last night three of us broke away from the others, taking advantage of the tailwind to set a pace of 25 mph.  The pace crept up from there… The last time I looked down at my cyclocomputer, we were riding over 27 mph, and my heart rate was up around 92% or so of my maximum.  My legs were absolutely on fire.  The end of this little burst came pretty quickly, but it was fun while it lasted.

I am very aware that I’m not in the same league as many of these riders, for a number of reasons.  Still, it was nice to feel like I could “hang” with them for a little while, anyway.

Bush 43 used to ride around the ranch on that mountain-bike thing of his. I’m neither a mountain biker nor a fan of W., so I just never could relate.

John Kerry could occasionally be seen riding around on his Serrotta. We didn’t end up with a road-cyclist in the White House, mostly because everyone would fall asleep every time he spoke.

So this sort-of-run of candidates that can ride on two wheels stands at a hot streak of 2. I can’t visualize Gore on a bike (the only exercise I ever saw him get was that tonsil-hockey thing with Tipper at the convention). Bill used to jog from McDonald’s to McDonald’s, checking out the soccer moms and charming them out of french fries. I don’t recall any other Presidents or candidates that rode.

The Dem’s candidate for POTUS was seen cycling with his family. He’s already got my vote, but I was heartened to read that he taking a little R & R with the family by riding bikes. Then I saw the picture:

Mr. Obama, if you’d like to come out to one of my Newcomer’s rides, I can help you with that chin-strap. That helmet won’t do you any good if it falls off your noggin’.

Just sayin’.

Terri and I were scheduled to lead a Newcomer’s Ride for Cascade Bicycle Club on Sunday morning. We were fortunate to have a small intermission in our crappy weather; it wasn’t raining. It was cold and overcast and the wind was out of the south at about 12 mph. Not ideal conditions, but workable.

We had 8 total riders, however 4 of them ended up being Cascade Ride Leaders (a couple of other leaders came out for an easy spin). Note how everyone is bundled up with long sleeves and/or jackets, and full-length pants. This weather is getting to be a bit much. Come on summer, it’s mid-June for cryin’ out loud!

Memorial Day Weekend 2008 marked my third trip down to Pendleton, Oregon for their 3-Day weekend cycling event, the Century Ride of the Centuries. In the past 4 years of cycling I have not done any events more than twice, save this one. If I am able, I will likely be there in ‘09 for my fourth as well.

Day 0 - Friday

I left Auburn at 10 a.m. on Friday, having taken the day off from work. Terri had spent the week at a conference in Spokane. She rented a car, and drove a route to intersect my path in Tri-Cities. After we checked in the rental car and consolidated baggage, we proceeded to Pendleton. We stopped downtown at the Central Pacific Cafe’ to have a glass of wine with a friend from my banking days (20 years ago, yikes!) who now lives in Pendleton. Around 5:30 we headed over to the Convention Center for registration and orientation. Here I ran into Jim Carson (back for his second CROC), as well as part of my “posse”, Bruce and Dee (acquaintances from my spin-class-at-the-gym days). Not yet present were riding partner Kevin, his wife Nina, and Rodney and Lee from the Green River Riders. Work schedules dictated that they leave Seattle later in the day. The CROC folks were quite accommodating, and I was able to register my absent friends and pick up their packets. This would allow us the luxury of starting the day 1 ride from our downtown hotel, saving a drive to the “official” start line. We checked in to our hotel, met up with Kevin, Nina, Dee and Bruce, and headed for a sumptuous dinner at Raphael’s. Dinner was great, and Kevin took a dare from Nina and had the rabbit & rattlesnake sausage appetizer (tasted like chicken, if you ask me). Rod and Lee arrived at the hotel shortly after we returned, and I gave them their packets so that Rod could fulfill his desire to study the route maps. This would be a fortuitous move come Saturday.

Day 1 - Saturday

After a restful night’s sleep at the Rugged Country Lodge, we convened our little troupe in the “Rooster Room” for the complimentary continental breakfast at 6:30 a.m. The event actually provided a full breakfast at the host hotel (The Wildhorse Hotel/Casino), but that was 5 miles away and it seemed an unnecessary trip, especially since the day 1 route passed directly in front of the hotel. We reconvened in the parking lot at 7:30 a.m., and rode out as a group.

After a brief rolling tour of downtown Pendleton (not all that large), we headed out the old highway along the Umatilla River. The road meanders next to the river, with rocky cliffs along the right side and the valley to the left. They had swept the road clear of rocks the day before the ride, but there were still occasional rocks in the roadway that we had to steer around. Terri and I drove this same route on Tuesday in the car, and there were hundreds of rocks on the road, far more than was the case on Saturday.

The first formal rest stop was in the town of Echo, and featured Hawaiian decorations and was staffed by volunteers in grass skirts and coconut bras. In the prior two years this stop was at a wide spot in the road, about 5 miles earlier. The new location was a vast improvement, allowing for real plumbing and a lovely grassy park to stretch out in. Food is the usual assortment of bagels, peanut butter, cookies, etc., with the addition of baked potatoes. I opted for a third of a spud, and half a bagel. This stop also served as the turnaround point for the metric century. Lee and Dee decided that they would leave us guys to our own devices, and head back to Pendleton. We said our goodbyes, and headed west toward Hermiston.

The route was planned to lead us around the town of Hermiston itself, in favor of the empty backroads that are the signature of CROC. This plan was thwarted by a train stopped on the tracks, so long that we could see neither end of the thing. Rod was ready for this moment, pulling out his map and coming up with a re-route before I had even finished taking a picture! Note the multitude of cyclists milling around in the background. A few of these folks would opt to climb over the train, a decision worthy of a Darwin Award had the train suddenly moved while they were wrestling bike or body between cars.

We backtracked to the last turn, and headed through Hermiston (didn’t take long). We rejoined the CROC route without seeing any other riders, indicative that our decision to ride around the obstacle rather than wait was the correct one. We were now riding parallel to the Columbia River, along the same route I had ridden last August on the last day of the Ride Around Washington. Lunch was at Hat Rock State Park. The theme was “white trash”, and the decorations were very much in keeping with that theme. Susan Kelley’s famous cheesy grits were served, along with all the usual rest stop chow.

After Hat Rock, we do a long climb away from the Columbia, and head down Cold Springs Road through more rolling wheat fields and ranch land. As was the case last year, we passed a ranch where the owner has shot and hung three coyotes from the fence. I presume this to be a warning to other coyotes, but I’m not sure how well it works, given he still had coyotes to shoot.

The day was getting warmer, and the road was consistently gaining altitude over this 20 mile stretch. By the time we hit the last rest stop of the day (Susie’s Diner), I was too tired to even pull the camera out. Jim Carson appeared to be fresher than I because he took a few. I was completely focused on getting back to the hotel, but I managed to find the time to scarf down one of the cheeseburgers offered. I rolled out of the rest stop and immediately got a flat tire (riding through the gravel parking lot, bad idea). After a quick tube change, we were on our way back to town. Final mileage for the day was 90 (slightly shorter than advertised, since we rode from the hotel).

Day 2 - Sunday

I hear it was hard. I didn’t ride it, nor did any of my cohorts (with the exception of Jim Carson, who apparently likes to get wet even when on vacation). The hill was shrouded in rain clouds, and slogging our way up, to be followed by a dangerous descent, seemed unattractive somehow. We lounged instead, and capped the day off with a trip to Walla Walla for a pulled pork sandwich at Mr. Ed’s. The weather forecast for Monday was slightly better than Sunday, so we were hopeful that we’d get one more day of riding in before heading home on Tuesday.

Day 3 - Monday

Patches of blue sky! WooHoo!! We had a nice ride out to the Bar M Ranch, where rest stop #1 was a tribute to the USS Abraham Lincoln. A few of the sailors on this aircraft carrier were “virtually” riding with us on CROC, but doing so in the ship’s exercise room on spin bikes. After resting and snacking a bit, we headed back down the valley, then turned up the hill at Thorn Hollow, a lovely little stretch of valley with rolling hills and horses dotting the hillside.

At the top of the climb we had a few miles of slight downhill and beautiful fresh asphalt to the next rest stop, which featured chili and cornbread. Refueled (and burping onions), we rolled into the town of Adams. I was a bit disappointed that the local store was closed for Memorial Day, as I wanted to see if the inside was even half as cool as the outside was.

The group split in Adams, some going the full route and a few heading back to town via a “shortcut”. I opted for the shorter ride, as my legs were pretty well spent. We took the old Adams Road along Wildhorse Creek, a pothole-rich cycling environment that took a lot of concentration to navigate. I ended the day with just less than 65 miles.

Pendleton isn’t exactly in my back yard, and sitting in a car hour after hour is an activity that I lost my love for back in college. But to experience the “big sky” and open roads of eastern Oregon in such a well organized event is, in my opinion, and opportunity not to be missed. So unless I’ve moved to another part of the country, I’ll likely be back next year. Maybe even if I have moved.