Desert Rivers 400k: Yakima Canyon Delights...as Always: Final PBP Qualifier

For some reason, the 400k has always been my favorite length of brevet. Mind you, I've only done a handful, but still it seems to suit me. This one, the Desert Rivers 400k, was one of my favorites because the route featured the Yakima River canyon.

I have loved driving our family through this canyon for years now, all eyes peeled for Bighorn Sheep (except mine as the driver, right, though yes I do peek through my peripheral vision when I can). I have loved every minute floating a raft down the Yak looking for those fat 'n happy trout. It was on such a trip that I introduced the SingingCyclist to fly fishing for trout.

I have loved bank fishing the Yak as well. In fact I remember one time in particular taking a day off work over 15 years ago to drive up to the Yak from Seattle with a fishing pal. He didn't tell me he had to be back just after lunch! I was just getting into it, but when he told me he had to get home I was shocked. I thought we had the day to ourselves. I threw out a few more desultory casts, then dragged in my line and started to step up onto the grassy bank when I spooked a monster trout lurking just under that deeply undercut grassy riverbank. Instead of working the bank for that monster's pals, I had to drive us back home. The memory of that "one that got away" moment haunts me still.

Now I have a new Yakima treat to add to my list: riding up and down the canyon in rain and sun. We had both. In all shades of exploratory dimensions, the Yakima River canyon never disappoints. Fisher folks talk about their "home waters". I know what constituted home waters for me in Colorado: the then under-appreciated St. Vrain River and it's various forks. Hardly a river by most standards, but sweet and special by those who knew it. Today, could my home waters be the Yak? I don't get there enough, but it is in the running as far as fishing goes. And for biking river valleys or river canyons, the Yak is up there as well. Though I do recall my first 300k through the Umatilla River valley, and that was pretty fabulous too. But then I can't forget riding through the car-banned upper Virgin River Valley in Zion National Park with DartreDame. That was as glorious an evening, river bicycle ride as one could have in a lifetime. Well, now that I think on it, cycling the Chesapeake & Ohio Canal towpath along the Potomac River was pretty darned special too.

I guess I've come--in writing this very post--to the inescapable and now clearly obvious conclusion that my most favorite bicycle riding is through beautiful river valleys and gorges. I suppose I've always know that, but hadn't consciously put it forward before. Well, there you go.

See that railroad track? One night--I think on the very trip SingingCyclist caught his first fish--Dartre, Singing and I were camped out behind Red's Fly Shop. Red's used to be very low brow, just a shop with places to pitch your own tent. They rented drift boats and guided sports, but that was about it. Now, it's a regular high brow lodge. Not the same.

But back to the track. We were dead asleep after a day of raft rowing, fishing and frolicking. Suddenly this freight train came down the track which was just across the river, and I'd have sworn--Dartre and I both would have sworn--that that freight train was about to barrel right through our tent and run us over. It was so loud it was unimaginable. Singing slept right through it as kids will do. 

Next morning we realized that it was the fact that the train noise carried across the river added to the fact that the track was right up against the tall canyon wall that so enhanced the roar and rumble of that train. It was like nothing else I've experienced!

Part of what makes river valleys so special is their dramatic evening lighting and soft breezes. Swallows love these rugged cliffs for nesting, and cycling through swooping swallows as the Sun's rays tinge a reddish glow onto our world is sublime. Even grazing cows and goats appear happier in the gloam. All is right and settled and patient with the world between the Sun's setting and darkness.

As you come up and out of the gorge heading South, the orchards take over again, and the sky opens up. The Desert River becomes more desert than river once more.

The photo above is of one cyclist among hundreds I encountered driving back home through the canyon the day after the brevet. This Your Canyon for a Day event opens up the canyon to bicycles and people of all kinds and ages and sizes, and closes it to cars.

Here riparian habitat meets the cycling habitat. It was festive and colorful and a true happening, this opening of the canyon to cyclists only. With my bike on my roof rack they thought I was one of them and let me through. For safety's sake, though I drove slowly, it would have been better had I avoided the canyon that trip.

But driving back through the Yakima River canyon where I had just ridden my 400k was even better because I knew that by finishing this Desert River 400k brevet I had qualified for Paris Brest Paris. I was on my way!

Much thanks to Paul Whitney and Cathy for organizing and volunteering for this brevet!!

Keep it riparian,

CurioRando

Oregon Coast 600k: Rolling Like a River to the Sea, PBP Qualifier #3

I rode out with the rest of the gang for the start of the Oregon Coast 600k Brevet, and we crossed rivers like the one above, racing it to the seacoast.

Check out the little red one!

Eventually, we made it to the shore. I hadn't seen the Oregon coast in years; it didn't disappoint.

Seastacks and salt air tempted lingering, but alas I was Paris bound this trip. Oregon coast lingering must come another day.

Bill Alsup, veteran randonneur, and I rode many a mile together, but most were decidedly not as portrayed above. First, we mainly rode together at night. Second, it was mostly either raining or downright raining hard. Or foggy. Or all of the above when we were tired.

Bill's smile, however, as pictured above was never far away.

This was my second successful 600k, and it was tough. An hour's sleep only, and I got into this rhythm of getting into the controles near the limit, then eating and resting and lingering too long causing me to get to the next controle near the limit, etc. I have to say that the tension that's built by never having the cushion you'd like is itself wearing. Not advisable.

I ended up riding in to the finish with Will Goss, another vet, and it was great riding with both Bill and Will. Really a very friendly crowd of randonneurs those two days.

Many, many thanks to Susan Otcenas and Susan France. A well-organized and beautiful route!

Keep it coastly,

CurioRando

Critters of the Night Brevet 200k, PBP Qualifier #2

Yep, I saw another Bobcat while riding a brevet in Oregon. I spied one on my first 400k (the same brevet I ran over a weasel). This time it was on Geiger Road at 3:30am where the road crosses a small stream. What a rush! I love nighttime riding on lonely country roads.

This route was put together by Marcello of the Oregon Randonneurs. Come to think of it, I met Marcello on this very 400k while I was photographing a Turkey Vulture. But this brevet last night was his night-starting 200k. I needed a 200k Qualifier for Paris Brest Paris, and I like the idea of practicing night starts as that's what it will be in Paris.

Only six of us started at 5pm--I wonder why more didn't join us?--and we jumped out fast. Once again, despite telling myself to start slowly I got into trying to hang with the faster guys. My rationale was that since we faced a stiff headwind, it'd be worth it. And it would have been if I wasn't too slow.

So I peeled off after 20k and rode the rest on my own. The weather held, and despite getting a spit of rain now and then, mostly we saw stars.

Before it got dark, I captured the picture above of a chawed tree along a bridge crossing a small stream. I'm guessing beaver since it was near the stream and porcupine often chew bark higher up the trunk, but I'm not certain. What do you think? Below is a closer look.

Reminiscent of a previous post featuring a beaver-chawed tree. Is there more beaver activity now, or am I just tuning in to beavers now that I've seen their handiwork while riding? Am I experiencing a rando version of the familiar Baader-Meinhof Phenomenon again?

I also really like the sounds. Lots of frogs last night. Once, it was quiet, and I was riding along when a frog croaked right next to me all of a sudden and very loudly. Maybe I startled him, but I know he sure startled me out of my pedaling reverie!

Like to hear some frogs I recorded last night? Check this audio file out!

Also saw a raccoon that crossed a road in front of me--from a wooded area along a stream on one side to an open field on the other. When he understood that he'd be out in the open by the time I got to him, he spun around and loped back from whence he came back into the brush and stood there staring at me in that scornful, defiant way they do.

It was a cold night--frost on my window after my 1.5 hour nap before driving back home to Seattle.

But it was nice and toasty in Marcello's and his wife Kathy's house. I was the last finisher, and she conjured up some biscuits and jam and hot tea for me. Really hit the spot. And as I ate she regaled me of their chicken-raising adventures. I was really interested as I've been contemplating chickens, even getting Dartre's blessing. But in the end, even though Kathy reminded me of how affectionate they can be (I really took to the chickens when I visited the farm where my grandfather grew up in Oxford, PA when I was a wee lad), I think I've come to the realization that we just don't need more responsibility in our lives.

On the way home from this nighttime brevet, I was pretty beat. But as I came upon the exit for the Nisqually Wildlife Refuge I had to stop. I used to visit there years ago, but they recently removed the dikes and opened up the area for reclamation by Puget Sound. The Ranger told me they doubled the amount of esturay in the Southern Puget Sound in this one restoration. Perhaps as much as 750 acres of restoration, I'm not certain.

I was too pooped to go for a stroll--I really wanted to be back home with the family--but I put it on our family to do list: visit the Nisqually Wildlife Refuge. As I was leaving I saw an older couple with cameras and huge wildlife lenses. They were fixated on the little pond adjacent the Info Center. There, just in front of us was a pair of Wood Ducks. Talk about beautiful! They said they were told that they had just descended on this spot for the first time this year.

Perhaps the most beautifulest of all the ducks (though the Harlequin is right in there), the Wood Duck is stunning.

But all the critters great and small have their habits, whether they be wild or domesticated. I am enchanted by them all.

Night brevets are cool!

Photo of Bobcat courtesy of National Geographic. Wood Duck photos courtesy of Wiki.

Keep it croaking,

CurioRando

2011 Paris Brest Paris 300k Qualifier, Check!

I just finished the Oregon Randonneurs Winter Grab Bag 200k/300k Brevet last weekend, and I have a few observations. First, the picture above is of longtime randonneur, Duane Wright and his trusty fixed gear Peugeot as I dropped him off after we finished our 300k brevet.

Here are my observations:

• Good thinking on scheduling a 300k so early!
• Why on earth would you put the 200k folks finishing up in the same room with the 300k folks trying to gird their loins for the last 100k? Just kidding, it was cool, but it did test my resolve! Good PBP practice.
• Great route idea of three 100k-ish loops all starting and ending at the motel. Perfect for drop bag convenience on a winter day.
• Fabulous food and drink plying.
• Great spirit of encouragement and conviviality!
• Thanks for keeping the potentially really nasty weather away. Looking back, I feel guilty for cursing the wind at one point when I ponder how bad it could have been.
• Marcello and his family were fabulous hosts who understood our needs and anticipated meeting them!
• I'm glad I've been doing my R-12.
• Even though it is February still, the frogs were making serious love calls all day and night.

Now my observations about the gentleman with the Peugeot pictured above:

• Duane first did PBP in 1995.
• He runs marathons all the time.
• He dances.
• He is a photographer.
• He is a great conversationalist concerned about the world and all others.
• He likes to savor.
• Duane did this 300k, and many other brevets, on his fixed gear bike.
• I was clever enough to ask Duane to ride the final 100k with me before I left that warm motel room and ventured out once more into that dark night.

Truly, Duane was a delight to ride with. I had heard tales of Duane, and had gotten the gist of those stories about how he often uses all the allotted time for each brevet. But like all stories, they capture some of the truth, but miss other pieces. The only real point of deviation between Duane and me--and we realized this on the drive back to our mutual hometown of Seattle from Newberg, Oregon--was that on this particular Super Bowl Sunday, he hailed from Wisconsin and I was from Pittsburgh! Ah well. Congrats, Duane, your Packers bested my Steelers this day, but thanks for riding into and out of the night together. That's what I love about randonneuring.

And for the record, I now have my 300k PBP Qualifier in the checked box!!

For a sampling of Duane's own ride reporting, here's a link to a 600k pre-ride report from ten years ago! Damn near pre-Internet days.

Thanks again, Marcello, Susan and all you Oregon Randonneurs for your hospitality! And, thanks, Duane, for your companionship!


Keep it qualifying,

CurioRando

My Quest for the 600k: DNF

The Willamette Headwaters 600k Brevet

Resignation...
Regret...
Re-evaluation...
Re-ignition

DNF, for the uninitiated, means Did Not Finish, and it is the designation a randonneur earns, in place of a finish time, when one quits before finishing a brevet in the allotted time.

Before I go further I want to thank all the organizers, especially Michael Wolfe, for a super scenic route, outrageous organization and a spectacular spirit. A brevet depends on all three, but the spirit counts for much. This brevet really deserves pics, so I'll post some links to others' pics so you get a sense of how beautiful this route really is. Michael, I know the logistics involved were really, really intense. Thanks so much for your contribution to our sport and to all of us who participated!

For the sake of getting all that's in my head and heart down onto this page, I'm going to organize into categories of Facts, Feelings, and Shifts.

One last prefatory remark: it's easy to quickly get drawn into the drama of long rides, the elation, the disappointment, the deep lessons learned--and I'm confident I'll go there--but really this is only about riding a bike. It's not about the real hardships that ordinary people overcome in everyday life and certainly not about the unfathomable hardships that extraordinary people overcome in their everyday lives. It's just making wheels go around.

Facts

• 
  
  This was my first attempt at a 600k, the longest distance I'd yet attempted.
• 
  
  At over 20,000 feet of climbing, this was by far the most elevation I'd ever taken on.
• 
  
  I rode fast for the first 100k and 200k--my fastest ever 200k in fact--by hanging onto better riders and to help bank time for the climbs to come when I'd surely slow.
• 
  
  As I rode with the fast pack, it became known that several of us (four?) were attempting our first 600k. One veteran rider exclaimed, "Your doing your first 600k on this route (thinking of all the elevation gain)? That's ballsy!".
• 
  
  We rode on the Row River Trail which is built on an old railroad grade which was the location for Buster Keaton's The General. If you read the Wiki description closely, there is a scene in the movie where Buster's character chases The General, which is a train, while riding a boneshaker, an early bicycle.
• 
  
  I rode with one, then two, great new pals who helped me through some tough climbs and nightness.
• 
  
  I forsook my "success plan" by having dinner with my two pals at a table outside a restaurant at a wine and beer tasting festival after an intense and long forest service road descent. My "success plan" calls for no solid food stops, just powdered Perpetuem, but I decided that having companions for the upcoming nighttime climb was worth the change of plans.
• 
  
  I arrived at a secret controle with my pals and had soup and hot chocolate and great gladness in the middle of the night--all staffed by a hardy volunteer and his pickup truck of many wonders, Michael Rasmussen.
• 
  
  I arrived at the overnight controle with about an hour and forty-five minutes left before the time limit.
• 
  
  I got about 40 minutes of sleep at the overnight. Yes, it was hard to get up.
• 
  
  The overnight volunteers were angels. No brag, just fact. I'm sorry I don't recall their names, but it was like being at a high brow bed and breakfast! Thanks, volunteers!
• 
  
  Waiting for my companions to depart by indulging in breakfast and such (Keven decided then that due to knee pain and fear of injury that he was abandoning), I spied Peg Winczewski departing. Peg is as good an anchor as one could want and had arrived at the controle with us. I watched Peg depart with her customary earnestness. Watching her depart, it occurred to me that perhaps I should be getting a move on too, but I didn't exactly.
• 
  
  I left the overnight controle about an hour and twenty minutes after the time limit (maybe an hour after Peg?) with my one remaining pal, Ted.
• 
  
  On the big climb out of that valley, Ted encouraged me to ride on ahead. I declined at first, then I reluctantly did just that.
• 
  
  Our route had been modified due to forest fire smoke.
• 
  
  I arrived at the next controle thirty minutes past the time limit.
• 
  
  When I called to convey that I was going to DNF, Michael Wolfe told me he'd wave my missing the controle deadline because he'd intended it to be only an information controle anyway because the forest fire course change had pinched his own time to fully reorganize.
• 
  
  I told him that despite his generosity, I was spent. I was going to DNF. I also learned then that Ted had already DNF'd earlier.
• 
  
  It was 455 kilometers into the ride, and most of the climbing was past with just one major ascent remaining.
• 
  
  I hitchhiked back to the start by the kindness of two strangers, each a gem in their own respect.
• 
  
  As I got back to the start I saw the faster riders finishing up their rides.
• 
  
  I got into my truck, drove to the Interstate, took a nap before getting on the Interstate, then drove back to Seattle.

 Feelings

It was a rush to hang on to the faster riders' wheels for a while. I knew I was burning my candle quickly, but this was offset by the time cushion I was building up. There really wasn't an alternative, so I rushed forward probably using up some energy stores but also making it possible to stay in the hunt. This felt right, and exhilarating.

The climbs were tough, and long. We walked up some, which I'd recently discovered has a quickly restorative effect when your legs are tired. Looking back, I may have walked a little overly much. Then again, I was tired. I didn't ingest caffeine as night wore on because I was afraid--now this seems silly--that I wouldn't be able to sleep at the overnight if I were caffeined up.



Walking is a quick restorative; don't let your pride deny your legs a helpful treat!



Hooking up with Ted was a relief. I knew I was at the back, and I don't mind the solitude, but I was glad to feel like I was in with at least one other who was still in the hunt. We talked of many things, and you really can get to know someone pretty well on a bike in the wilderness, in the dark, when you're hurting and going through your respective phases, and it's just you and him. Ted's a really good person.



Ted

 Later, we hooked up with a rider I had nicknamed "Stripey" from afar. This was because his striped stockings were distinctive, and it was a moniker that Ted recognized. Our touchstone for that other guy who was also hanging onto the back was thus: Stripey. And then as Ted and I were wrestling with a navigational decision (Ted had a day-old Garmin that he barely knew how to utilize it was so new, and I wasn't much use), along comes Stripey. Well it turned out Stripey had a name. He was Keven from Vancouver, BC, and he too was a great companion though I didn't get to know him quite as well since we didn't hang together as much. Now we fairly constituted a pack.

One thing that Ted and Keven had in common was that they were fearless descenders compared to me. I was amazed at how they'd whip around blind corners while I had to make certain nobody was coming the other way. This was despite the fact that we saw exactly one car over the hours that comprised the whole ascent and descent. I really felt compromised by my poor descending and while they waited for me when necessary, I realized I have much to learn and practice in this regard.

It was on one of these long descents that I convinced myself that when I hit a bump that my phone had popped out of my bag. I heard something, but didn't give it much notice. Later, not finding my phone, I assumed it was the casualty. Turns out all that was just my foggy brain not finding my phone and leaping to conclusions.

After the descent we rolled into the Oakridge Keg and Cask Festival. Oakridge, it seems is literally surrounded by forest service land. We were quite the spectacle for that crowd and everyone wanted to chat about our endeavor, our route, our bicycles. This is where I made that choice to stay and have dinner with Keven and Ted. It seemed to make sense to stay with them then, but now I can see that it wasn't necessarily such a good idea. It was really both a good idea for keeping company, but at the same time a great risk. Still hard to decide what I'd do in the same situation again.

One thing is certain: I relaxed. I ate at a table like a human being, with a napkin and silverware. While it felt good to rest and I'm certain that was a restorative, I now see that I also altered my sense of urgency here. As long as I was with others I reasoned, I was OK. Looking back, I'd backed myself into a fog of unexamined assuredness. Of course, we did eat at a restaurant called The Brewers Union Local 180, so I further rationalized my stopping due to the labor reference, my being a labor guy and all.

After the next big climb through several hours of nighttime, the overnight controle became our next benchmark, I began to dig in again. I wanted to get there, and two other riders who it turned out were indeed behind us, Peg and Jeff, joined our troupe and I led us in to the controle with determination.

The controle was an oasis. People cooking us spaghetti, being ushered to luxury cabins for a little sleep, a warm shower. Ahhhh. This is where I made some further poor decisions. I ate spaghetti--Yum and thanks volunteers!--and after my 40 minutes (40 winks?), I ate Raisin Bran like it was breakfast time even though it was only an hour after I ate my Spaghetti. I lingered. I soaked in the warmth. I organized my bike bag. Put on new shorts and a clean jersey. I watched Peg leave with her earnestness. I reflected, but most of all, I didn't depart like a man on a mission.

When I did leave it was well over an hour AFTER the controle officially closed putting me well over an hour in the hole timewise. And on the climb up McKenzie Pass when I finally left Ted behind, I was alone with my thoughts, my suffering, my feeling sorry for myself.




Lava Fields atop the McKenzie Pass climb.

And then it dawned me during the ensuing descent that I wasn't going to make the next, and penultimate, controle on time no matter how hard I pedaled into the wind. By the time I wheeled into that controle and the store clerk wrote my time on my brevet card, I was a full 30 minutes in the hole. Even though I thought that maybe Michael the Brevet Organizer might forgive this, I made up my mind--my hungry, overheated, unrested, kind of pissy mind--that since I was late...I was done. I have DNF'd.


 

Dead Vulture: Good omen cause it's dead, or...

 But instead of calling Michael immediately to talk it over, check out my options or eat a little, rest a little, think things through a little, I impetuously called DartreDame, my wife, and told her I was spent, I was done. We talked it over, I rationalized, and then I felt a mixture of relief and collapse settle in. I was done. Dartre, for her part, did everything as a partner ought to. She checked in and offered up what staying in meant. Didn't encourage me to quit. But it can be a tough spot, right? You don't want them to encourage you to quit but you want them to be there for you. Perhaps because she too has DNF'd (on a Permanent) and finished strong as well, she understands very well.

So then, by the time I called Michael, my soul had said "No mas", and Michael's noble attempts to re-engage me were of no use; I had shut down.

Now this was followed by a bit of a high. Suddenly, I was no longer experiencing the tension of time stress or the worry of can I make it up this "one more climb?". I hitchhiked back to the start, maybe 50 miles or more with my bike, and did so by virtue of two angels. And now I had entered into a realm of adventure I've been accustomed to for years: hitchhiking, adventuring, but without time constraints, a poor man's touring. This was familiar terrain from long ago.

The first driver that stopped was a fabulous woman driving a van. The van was for her husband whose disability confined him to a wheelchair. My bike rode next to his chair in the back as I sat in front with her, and they regaled me of some of their life's stories. Her daughter and friend followed in a car behind us. Wonderful folks, our little caravan, and oh how they admired my riding all that distance. And I relaxed and soaked it in, but with a niggling in the back of my head that said: "quitter!".

The next driver was a really unique guy who I stereotyped quickly as a redneck as I slung my bike onto the bed of his pickup. And he was. He was a cowboy for real. He tended cattle up by the coast. But he was plenty else. Former army long distance runner, now a newbie mountain biker. He was a dad. An entrepreneur. He was a character. He was a real appreciator of what I was doing, this randonneuring. He ended up taking me about 20 - 30 miles out of his way and dismissed it as easily as that. He was happy to, he said, and that was right: he was happy to. I don't know what it is but there are times you just connect with total strangers in ways that feel more real than many of the relationships you have with folks you know and have worked with for years. Kind of like striking up a conversation with a seatmate on a plane, and instantly finding common ground in a suddenly deep way as both of you know you'll never see one another again. There is that intimacy of the temporarily corralled strangers.

So, there I am then, relaxed, sleepy, starting to regret a little, but now back outside the motel where we started the morning before. I grabbed my drop bag and bumped into Ted. We shared our DNF camaraderie, a few words of "next time", and I skulked off to my truck.

When I got home at last, I drove straight to meet my family at our good friends' house; they had visiting family from India and I broke another vow: I ate several bowlsful of ice cream and several Indian sweets (no sweets better than Indian milk sweets!) whilst being congratulated and cheered for going farther and higher than ever before. For them, DNF was a mere detail lost in a tale of unimaginable proportions. So what, you rode so far and so high!

DartreDame laughingly chided me for the fact that I had one sock on/one sock off, but they gave me much love and encouragement. In my mind, I was a quitter. In their minds, I had achieved more than I ever had previously, which was true too. Obviously, I was back in the arms of my homefolk.

Shifts

Gradually, as I told folks of my latest adventure and explained why I'd quit, I couldn't quite conjure up the real reason. Was I completely physically exhausted? If I answered really and truly honestly...no. In fact, once I started hitchhiking home I felt physically pretty good.

I started to shift into regret. I could have kept going. Even if I didn't finish on time, at least I should have kept going. What was it that made it feel impossible to go back on the bike for that last big climb? I had done much more than that already. There's even a term for finishing a brevet, but past the time limits: hors delai. It is a respected status because it shows one didn't quit even though the clock had run out. I'd never even given that option a second thought. I dismissed it before it had a chance to alight onto my brain, because I'd shut down. A handy excuse was that I had an important work meeting Monday morning so as long as I had quit, why not just get home ASAP? And so I did.

Shift #1

Then I read Dr. Codfish's column in the Fall, 2010 American Randonneur, the official publication of Randonneurs USA. Dr. Codfish, or Paul Johnson, writes the blog, The Dr. Codfish Chronicles, and it is filled with sage rando advice. This particular column, titled Reaching the finish line...the endurance mind, is about finishing. He writes about the obvious: visualization, preparation, having a contingency plan. But he also writes about the not-so-obvious: feeding your head, making your own rules, the power of having experienced looking into the void. But, most of all, Dr. Codfish explicitly advises never to decide to quit until AFTER you've eaten a little, drunk a little, napped or rested a little, and made a bargain to continue on just a little longer. Then decide.

Reading those words just hours after my decision to DNF, I felt small. Why hadn't I just tried...a little?

Well, I eventually decided three things about this when to quit idea. First, being honest with myself, I quit too soon. Ouch! Second, so I did, that's good to admit, but it doesn't define me as a quitter or anything else. It was one decision among many. I wish now I hadn't done it, but it couldn't be undone. Just let it be the reality, but not my defining reality. Third, I realized that once again in this damn fool business that is our randonneuring, I had learned another lesson. Good for me!

If you haven't read Dr. Codfish's column, read it. If you have read it, reread it. If you aren't a RUSA member, you could go online, but I don't think it's up yet. So join RUSA. That article is more than worth the cost of admission.

Shift #2

I still don't know why it took me so long to make this second shift--could it be I was too busy wallowing in my quitterdom?--but it took almost two weeks. Finally though, I just did the math. If I left the overnight controle between 75 and 90 minutes after the controle closed and I was 30 minutes late coming into that last controle, then I had actually made up between 45 and 60 minutes on what was one serious climb and a descent into a nasty headwind. I was improving my time even though I'd departed the overnight later than I should have. At that rate and with what I knew to be just one more longish but not so steep climb, I really had a pretty promising, not doomsday, trajectory. Huh.

Shift #3

Three years ago almost to the day, I set some wheels in motion, the full consequences of which I hadn't really seriously considered. It began when I read online about the just completed Paris Brest Paris event in 2007. I surfed wildly from website to website soaking in all I could absorb: camaraderie, testing one's limits, self-supported, suffering, Paris, cycling, tradition, fanfare, French food, and festival. I announced to Dartre (who acquired her nickname DartreDame on an earlier trip to Paris, the very one in which our budding romance blossomed beyond my imagination!) that I hoped to ride in the next Paris Brest Paris, and if she was supportive then I would commence my journey that I knew would take me to soaring heights as well as the accompanying lows. I had enough life experience to appreciate that there would be unforeseen lows, I just didn't have the foresight to imagine exactly how they'd manifest themselves.

Well, the wheels I'd set in motion when Dartre proclaimed her support for my quest were big wheels on a steep descent. Dartre and her sister were thinking about how to celebrate their parents' 50th wedding anniversary coming up in 2011. Since their parents live in India and celebrants live around the globe, why not France in August of 2011. Since Curio will be riding there anyway for Paris Brest Paris, let's just all meet in France and we can have one big party/PBP. Manufique!

Almost exactly after this DNF, Dartre's sister and Dartre decided it was time to seriously plan. So as I was experiencing Shifts 1 and 2, they were deciding where to go (Provence), which house with which amenities (cheaper one), when to depart Provence for Paris and PBP (later than Curio), when Dartre and I would cyclo-tour for a week (first week in August), where we'd cyclo-tour (Dordogne), etc.

Suddenly, my DNF was now also a ticket to nowhere. Without a 600k, let alone a 1000k, I was seriously risking being unable to register for Paris Brest Paris 2011. The result was that while it was now set that we were going to France, the impetus for going there in the first place--Paris Brest Paris--was slipping through my fingers.

This sent me back to surfing the Internet. I had to find an alternative 600k, hopefully flatter, so that I could improve my chances or I could see 2011 and France and family trip all adding up to one word for me: Bittersweet.

And so I shifted again. This time from pondering my bellybutton and the meaning of my DNF to the practicalities of finding a 600k and getting myself there. I had shifted into a next step. I found another 600k to try: Surf City 600k put on by the Santa Cruz Randonneurs!! DNF, what DNF? I was on a move toward a new success plan.

To find out how I did on the Surf City 600k, please go here.

Postscript

If you've read this far, there is little need to apologize for the length of this post. It's just long. But if you've read this post, you'll also know that it was pretty self-revealing. I thought more than twice before putting all this down for any and all to see, but I chose yes in the hope that it is fodder for other newbies. If you find it maudlin, please be kind. If you find it useful, then I am pleased.

For more pics and ride reports from other riders:

• Susan Otencas's report
• Gary Prince's pics
• Brad's Ride Report

 Keep it in perspective,

CurioRando

Tadpoles in Our Waters: SIR Permanent #0320, Mountain Loop 200k

Streamside!

When I realized I hadn't prepared enough for this past weekend's Oregon Randonneurs' Oregon Coast 600k, I ventured off to try the Seattle Randonneurs' Mountain Loop 200k. Featuring 14 miles of dirt road, it was a real departure from what I've ridden to date. It would have been better descending those 14 wet dirty miles on my soon-to-be 650B bicycle, but my old Fuji and her 32mm tires did OK.

Our National Forests do have many uses: Cycling, Camping, Hiking, Sunday Driving, fishing, Hunting...

 

Even Tadpoling!

See the long, skinny dark shapes? Those are some pretty long (nearly as long as my little finger) tadpoles I spotted on a pee break. Just as I spied them the Sun started to peek through what had been a dismal, rainy morning. My spirits picked up, and so I rode for a while serenading those tadpoles hoping that they'll soon be serenading me on a future brevet. Based on their size, I'm guessing they are more of the croaking serenaders, rather than the cheepers or ribbeters.

 

Oh, and Ice Spelunking too.

A local person on her break at the convenience store in Arlington told me it is illegal to actually enter the caves, but somebody gets killed nearly every year nonetheless.

Reminds me a little of the bowl on the flanks of Mt. Joseph.

I did this route counterclockwise, though you can do either. Depends on whether you want the dirt on the ascent or the descent.

Along the dirt road. Can you imagine building a 60 mile long road of planks?

At the Summit.

Counterclockwise elevation chart.

Waterfall (background) draining the snowcapped peak and feeding the stream (foreground).

Barn, fields, mountains, mist and clouds.

Bruce Ferguson stands in front of the period-authentic railroad depot he built from scratch in Snohomish. He rents it out for conferences and parties and such. It lies along the Centennial Trail--the final 11 kilometers of my ride--as I came into the town of Snohomish.

Enlarge for the detail of the crow with the berry in its beak!

KEEP YOUR WATERS CLEAN

Our Waters. Some would have us shrink the Ourness in our land. I'm for collectivizing. Better we hold it in trust than to trust individuals or corporations. How many children would ever marvel a tadpole were it not for our land and our water?

Keep it Ours,

CurioRando

Cycling Proselytizers

Think you're a committed cyclist? Hardcore in any weather and all? You do your R-12 events every month for a year (that's at least a 200k every month), and think that is something?

Well, move over bub. Let me introduce you to some cyclists that even RUSA record-breaker Vincent Muoneke (and a hearty Congratulations to you, Vincent!) would be obliged to respect.

Meet Byron Ramos, Couper Millar and Bradley Gabor, pictured above l to r. These three missionaries from the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints are on a two year, seven days a week in all weather door-to-door campaign on their bicycles throughout south Washington State. They cycle from house to house proselytizing for JCLDS. Their mission is for two years, and is unpaid.

I spied this trio in Milton-Freewater, Oregon a town I posted about when we did the Oregon Randonneurs 300k last summer. They were outside a restaurant, and I picked them out by their natty clothes and ties. I figured who else would ride with dress clothes on a nasty day but somebody on a mission, and I was right!


Byron, Couper and Bradley were very patient with my incredulous questioning, and I thank them. Can you imagine riding every day of the week for two years? As I motored away I couldn't help but imagine the reactions they got from all the folks whose doors they knocked upon. The bicycle is a disarmer. From my limited touring, I've learned that most folks respect that you've earned your way to the very spot at which you've met them on your bicycle.

So, these three got me thinking about other ways to visit the world by bicycle. I hope they now realize that they've inspired me to think bigger about the possibilites of the bicycle. Not to mention my respect for their commitment. Awesome.

Having said all that, I just got to say that the JCLDS position on California's Prop 8 is one that I find very disturbing. Keith Olberman does a fine job of stating my failure to understand why some insist on perpetrating their values on others when no harm to others would occur. It just baffles me, and I believe such discrimination against any of us divides us and pits us against the loving world we all seek and need.

Nonetheless, you just have to admire Byron, Couper and Bradley. There is much to learn from such commitment. I wish them all the best weather with friendly door knockees, only downhills, no flats and no dogs! And when that doesn't all work out, I hope they know they've earned the respect of this curious cyclist!


Keep it loving and inclusive of all, every day in all weather and any circumstance,

CurioRando

Oh, the Possiblities: Brevet Schedule for 2010!

The Seattle International Randonneurs has posted our 2010 Brevet Schedule. Yippee!

My mind runs wild:

• 
  
  Will I do my first ever 600k in 2010?
  
  
  
• Will I do an even longer brevet?
• What will my wife (DartreDame when she posts here) do next year now that she is a member?
• Will we succeed in recruiting our certain friend to join too? Or someone else?
• Will we make new friends?
• Will I ride faster and make shorter Controle stops next year?
• What new weather challenges await?
• Will I get an SR series in by June for PBP purposes?
• What will my new designed-for-Randonneuring bicycle be like to ride (go here, for details)?
• What critters will we see?
• Any new weather phenomenon?
• Will I begin to feel ready for PBP, and how will I start to panic, feeling unprepared?
• What new insights will 2010 Brevets bring to my life?
• Will I complete my first R-12?
• How will volunteering for the first time change my views, if at all?

Where does your mind go?

What big randonneuring adventures in 2010?

How are you preparing now?

Here's the SIR 2010 Brevet Schedule:

Date            Brevet                   Organizer


2/28/10 Sun       Spring Populaire (RUSA)      Suzanne Nowlis

3/13/10 Sat        Chili Feed 200K (ACP)        Mary & Greg Cox

3/20/10 Sat        Bellingham 200K (ACP)       Dan Turner/Matt Dalton

3/27/10 Sat        Spring 300K (ACP)             Gary Prince/David Harper

4/3/10 Sat          Bellingham 300K (ACP)       Dan Turner/Matt Dalton

4/15-18/10         Fleche NW (ACP)               Carol & Ralph Nussbaum

4/21-25/10         Wenatchee Camp                 Mike McHale

4/25/10 Sun        200K (ACP)                       Wayne Methner

5/15/10 Sat         Spring 400K (ACP)             Joe Llona

6/5/10 Sat           Spring 600K (ACP)             Jeff Tilden, et al

6/26-30/10          Cascade1240 (RM)             Mark Roehrig

6/26-29/10          Cascade 1000K (ACP)       Mark Roehrig

7/10/10 Sat         Summer Populaire (RUSA)   Paul Johnson

7/24/10 Sat         Summer 200K (ACP)           Josh Morse

8/7/10 Sat           3 Volcanoes 300K (ACP)     Amy & Robin Pieper

8/19/10 Thu        Summer 1000K (ACP)          Mark Thomas

8/21/10 Sat         Summer 400K (ACP)           Mark Thomas

8/29/10 Sat         Mountain Populaire (RUSA)  Noel Howes

9/11/10 Sat         Summer 600K (ACP)           Robert Higdon / Chris Gay

9/12/10 Sun        Summer 200K (ACP)            Robert Higdon / Chris Gay

9/18/10 Sat         SIR/ORR Dart (RUSA)         Peg Winczewski

9/24-27/10         WA-OR 1000K (ACP)         Vincent Muoneke/Geoff Swarts

9/24/10 Fri         WA-OR 400K (ACP)           Vincent Muoneke / Geoff Swarts

9/25/10 Sat        WA-OR 600K (ACP)            Vincent Muoneke / Geoff Swarts


Great THANKS to all the individual Brevet Organizers, our RBA Mark Thomas, and the volunteers who make such dreaming possible!

Just in: the Oregon Randonneurs 2010 Brevet Schedule. Yippee, again! And great THANKS to ORR RBA Susan France and the ORR individual Brevet Organizers and volunteers for their dreamweaving too!

And now, check out the 2010 Brevet Schedule nationally at the Randonneurs USA site. Pick your location, and find a ride!


Keep it dreamy,

CurioRando

Commitment to Cyclo-Commuting

Several posts ago, I said I'd come back and commit to some level of cyclo-commuting rather than just leave it to chance to see how much I cycle to and from work.

I have given it some thought and my commitment--really this is me talking to myself--is to cycle to work a minimum of twice per week on average. The average will be calculated on a monthly basis.

So there it is. I begin with the week of Monday, October 5.

Wish me luck. If you've got suggestions, I'll take 'em. Some have made them already.

Anyone else out there ready to make a pledge themselves?

Anyone who already has and wants to report on it?

As Tom Russell told me on our 400k brevet organized by the Oregon Randonneurs, regular cyclo-commuting is a good tactic for randonneurs to build a mileage base, keep the wheels turning regularly, etc.

So how can I go wrong?

Keep it pledged,

CurioRando

Update: After committing, I got something in the mail and something at our door.