Recumbent Bicycles for Randonneuring, Interviewing John Vincent, Part 1: Eliminating Pain

Recumbent bicycles? What do I know? I've never ridden one.

I've seen them race past me, or more accurately charge ahead in a group start never to be seen again, by me at least. Except when it comes to those hills. Sometimes I catch one there.

But I do see them more often now, so I asked my randonneuring pal, John Vincent, to shine some light on the subject of recumbents. Who better than John, a newbie recumbent rider?

I met John on my first 200k this year, the Birkie 200k organized by the Oregon Randonneurs. John is also a member of the Seattle International Randonneurs. The day we met, a very soggy day indeed, John was still riding upright or diamond frame bicycles, and spent much of the brevet regaling me with this whole recumbent thing: the bike he was going to get. At the time, I was so focused on just figuring out the whole randonneuring thing I didn't focus on his recumbent obsession.

But let's hear about it from John who has just made the transition from an upright bicycle to a recumbent bicycle. What I think is most valuable about this interview is John's clarity about the choice to go recumbent. He is not what you might expect. He switched for a purpose, but he is clearly not one of those overzealous converts (I'm not just talking recumbents, I'm referring to all kinds of converts) who is on a mission to convert us.

He just tells it like it is. Refreshing, I think.

What follows is Part 1 of my two-part interview with John. Photos are of John on his new recumbent taken, I believe, by his wife Sandy. The second and final installment of this interview series, Recumbent Bicycles for Randonneuring, Interviewing John Vincent, Part 2: Builders, Relative Merits, Peering into the Future, is here.

After you've read his interview, check out this site about recumbent videos at the 2007 Paris Brest Paris that John suggested as a good resource.


Keep it reclined,


CurioRando

Eliminating Pain

CurioRando: How long have you been riding a bicycle?

John Vincent: 17 years. Since ‘92

CR: About how many miles a year?

JV: Between 5000 and 8000 miles/year.



CR: How many brevets or organized rides?

JV: A couple of 600’s. Went to Paris Brest Paris (PBP) and Glacier 1000, but didn’t finish either. I’ve done a bunch of 200’s, 300’s and some 400’s. Two Super Randonneur years. This is my third SR year.

CR: What do you like most about Randonneuring?

JV: I love the goals. I love the challenge. Love doing something that seems a little bit impossible…that scares me a little bit. I’ve done enough long rides to know that the more rides you do, the better you become.

I’m not really a great long distance rider. There are tons of riders who are truly skinny, long distance riders and who are just exceptional. So I’m just one of the duffers in the back who manage to finish most of my rides. I love the whole preparation. I like to obsess a little bit, it’s fun, and addictive. It is a challenge that an average person can accomplish. It’s part of my nature.

You have to really focus on this. It has to be more than a hobby. The commitment to do a long ride like a 1000k or PBP is just really over the top. It’s far longer than regular people normally ride. I love the whole thing about it. I find that without a goal I don’t really have a reason to ride on a rainy and cold Saturday morning. I think that’s what’s missing from a lot of people’s lives today. They don’t have a goal, don’t have a passion. I’m pretty passionate. I spend a lot of money on it. I don’t have a cabin or a boat. I have a bike. That’s what I do. That’s what I like.

CR: Planning to ride PBP in 2011?

JV: Oh, yes.



CR: I know you recently made the change over to a recumbent, why a recumbent and what got you going in that direction?

JV: I had an MRI on my shoulder a couple years ago that indicated I have Osteoarthritis. Over a period of time I had gotten to the point where every ride I was on was painful in my right shoulder. To top that off, I also have a case of Spinal Stenosis, and they were prescribing Vicodin. I’m just going to be honest about this: I’d be on a ride, and when my shoulder would hurt I’d take Vicodin. I was surviving that way. I’d literally be on a 600k ride and all of my effort went into pain management, not working my legs or my lungs. I was just trying to survive and hang in there, mostly with a lot of shoulder pain. I couldn’t sleep on a 600k. I’d doze for 20 minutes, toss and turn and get up finally, and go. But I couldn’t ever really rest.



CR: What is this diagnosis exactly?

JV: Spinal Stenosis. The kind of Stenosis I have is like an old guy you’ll see. Bones get bigger as you get older, and some of those bones that get bigger and thicker are your vertebrae. If your vertebrae close up a little bit, you’ll eventually have your toes go numb. If you see an old man in a three-wheeled motorized cart at Safeway because he can’t stand up straight or is bent over when walking…that’s what I have. At times, I can hardly walk. I just don’t walk very well. I can do basic things, but I can’t hike anymore. So a number of things are going on at the same time. While that wasn’t really painful, it was causing weakness in my legs. Serious weakness. All of a sudden when I got a recumbent I felt like I had a lot more strength in my legs. I don’t depend on my back as much to support it, and I don’t have any shoulder pain. It’s like a freeing experience. Anything over 15 miles, I’d start to hurt. For years I’ve endured it, and it’s kind of made it a slugfest on longer rides.



CR: Any particular recumbent riders inspire you to make this change?

JV: There was a change in recumbents about five years ago. There was this guy, Dave Karcher, who built carbon fiber recumbents. One of the things that had kept me away from recumbents was their weight. I just couldn’t envision myself riding a heavy bike. I could certainly afford to lose a lot of weight myself, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to go out and get a 25-30 pound bike. And I wanted something fast. I enjoy buying lightweight bikes. Even though I’m not fast, I didn’t want something to make me slower. So David Karcher came out with a carbon fiber recumbent he called a Carbent. He started manufacturing them, and he was a one-man operation. At the same time there was Bacchetta. Bacchetta produced a Carbon Aero and a Ti (titanium) Aero bike. They stopped making the Aero because (from what I heard) of supply problems. These were all high racer styled bents. High racers meaning that you’re sitting up above two normal-sized bicycle wheels when you ride. Plus you are significantly reclined.

I started watching some of the speeds and some of the comments of other riders. In the Northwest we have some incredible recumbent riders. One of them is Michael Wolfe. He is a member of Team Bacchetta and he has a Ti Aero and a Carbent. (Dana Leiberman bought David Karcher’s operation in California and he builds Carbents now down in Van Nuys California). Michael has shown that bents aren’t slow, and that they can climb. Further, at one point I realized my dream of owning a custom upright bike was gone as this pain wasn’t going away. You’re buying a Tony Pereira which is an awesome bike. (See previous post on CurioRando's next Randonneuring bicycle: a Pereira.) I considered a Pereira, but I realized there is nothing I could do on a regular bike without a certain level of shoulder pain, so I made the decision to step up to buy a carbon fiber recumbent bike. I bought a Carbent.



CR: Cool. What do you think are the recumbent advantages and disadvantages for randonneuring?

JV: One advantage is that over the long haul of a ride—this is not uncommon to hear—is the pain that you suffer in your body parts is only in your legs when riding a recumbent. I want all that pain to be in my legs. I don’t want it to be in my shoulders, my hands, my neck and my back. As a person feels more pain, more energy is put into staying comfortable and relieving pain.

On a recumbent there is only one kind of pain. Legs get a huge workout, but I have no pain in my neck, shoulder, hands. Some of the recumbent riders at PBP noticed that when they were 1000k into the event, they were passing riders on upright bikes who had passed them hundreds of miles before. This is because those upright riders were now dealing with various seat and neck problems.

Climbing is a challenge for me, but it has been said that when you can get your legs conditioned you can climb as fast as a seated bike rider. You just have to get used to it. I’ve got a long way to go on this regard. And then going downhill, riding into the wind, and riding on flat ground I’m faster. For me those are advantages for the long distance rider.

Then there have been examples of recumbent success: the four-man team on RAAM (Ride Across America) won this year on 23 pound aluminum recumbents. They beat all the other 4 man teams. Four guys in their mid to late 40’s beat all the diamond frames. They climbed as fast going over the Rockies as all the other bikes. They actually took over first place while going over the Rockies!



CR: Great. Let me ask you…

JV: Let me tell me about what I think is a problem with them. I’m pretty inspired about recumbents, and I’m a little defensive, internally, about recumbents, because I love upright bikes. It’s almost like I’ve had to go against my natural instinct toward upright bikes. Getting a recumbent is almost like moving from being a Boston Red Sox fan to a becoming a New York Yankees fan. I’m rooting for the other side or something. It’s a major change. People--I include myself--have a lot of basic prejudice against recumbents. Now the con side: at this point, I’m just not that fast uphill as I could be because I’m uncomfortable leaning back.



CR: You’re uncomfortable because you feel like you’re going to fall back over yourself or…?

JV: Your feet are up where your head is when you’re climbing. And you can’t use your upper body. On a regular bike I can fight, pull back, and scrabble with the handlebars. When I pull on the handlebars going up hill I end up all over the road. I have to separate my upper body from my lower body. I have to get it in a lower gear because I can’t use my shoulders and arms. So it’s going to take some time for me to stay relaxed and just lean back and push a lower gear. I sometimes feel like l’m upside down. It’s an uncomfortable position and it just doesn’t feel safe. But, I know that people get used to it. Some people say that drivers can’t see you and that‘s why people don’t like them, and I think that is part of why people don’t trust them. I just think that they’re just another form of transportation, and they are as safe as you want them to be. I try to ride defensively.



CR: Advice to those considering going recumbent?

JV: Well, I think there is a fellow up in Canada, David Cambon, and he made a good recommendation: get the lightest bike you possibly can. David has an excellent article about lightweight recumbents that can be found with a Google search. In the randonneuring world, typically carbon is not recommended for upright bikes. But if you’re going to go recumbent, shelling out the money to get a carbon fiber bike gets you a lightweight bike. There is a great deal of difference between a 25 pound bike and an 18 – 19 pound recumbent. I think that is big for any rider.

And then I think I heard a comment from John Kramer who was on the 400k brevet that you just rode on (see this previous post about the 400k per CurioRando), and he rode it on his recumbent. Kramer said “It may take a season." You don’t just hop on a bike as a whim and say this is good or bad. It takes a certain level of commitment to ride a recumbent successfully. I don’t expect to be fast on a recumbent, but I expect to be comfortable and I expect to finish, and it's taking me some time.

For a new person transitioning, give yourself time, maybe a season to improve. I figure I’m at about 80% there right now.



CR: Any realizations you hadn’t anticipated going recumbent?

JV: I didn’t realize the level of commitment that it’d take to become a good recumbent rider. I’d say I’m a much, much better rider now and I can hold a straight line. I can climb some hills, but when I look at the confidence of riding an upright, I look at a hill and I think: no big deal. I can shift into a little gear on an upright, and I can go up slowly, or I can go up in a bigger gear and work harder. On a recumbent there are some hills on which I lack confidence. On an upright I’m not intimidated by any hill. Getting to the point of looking at a hill and thinking it’s no big deal on my recumbent will take awhile. I still have some anxiety on a recumbent when I look at some steeper hills.



CR: Would you go back to an upright bike?

JV: Not anymore. I can’t do it. When I had my recumbent bike being repaired (See Part 2 of this interview where John details the car-bicycle accident he endured) I ‘d sit on an upright bike and go for a 15 mile ride. I wasn’t comfortable. I had such shoulder discomfort that after 15 miles it just didn’t feel good. There are all these pressure points that I had kind of forgotten about.

For me there is no turning back. When my recumbent is being repaired I ride my Glen Erickson singlespeed or my Eddy Merckx Titanium, and they are fine to ride but I just don’t feel the same. When I ride my recumbent I have no discomfort (laughing). Zero pain! So when I’m doing a 20-miler on my recumbent and I’m just doing a little lap around the community and back to the house, I just feel great. I ride faster and recognize its benefits. Sometimes I get into discussions with dedicated upright riders and they just roll their eyes at me.

Once I can stay on my bike and not get off on steep hills, and once I gain some of the confidence that I have on my other (upright) bikes, I’ll be fine. To me the advantage of a recumbent is you don’t have any of the things that distract: sitting on a saddle for 20, 36 or 40 hours tends to have its impact. I also know that my shoulders, neck, toes and hands don’t get numb. I don’t wear gloves any more. I don’t’ need padding from vibration. I hold my handlebars lightly. No weight is being applied there. For me it is a no-brainer: I make it on the recumbent or I don’t ride. There isn’t another way for me. It’s too nice a ride to go back to the pain I was having.

Ride Report: Mountain Passes of the Wallowa Mountain Loop, Oregon

UPDATE

FYI: The Wallowa loop road is currently closed due to washout from flooding! Repair is underway but is not open yet! For updates you can visit the Wallowa/Whitman National Forest web site to track repair progress and possible opening. This message thanks to an anonymous commenter below. Thanks!

(This is a joint post of DartreDame and CurioRando)

It started as a germ of an idea—as many crazy ideas do. Mary B., our friend in Joseph, Oregon, had told us that she biked to Salt Creek Summit for a ride a friend had organized for his birthday. 6100 feet up, it was a beautiful spot, just about 20 miles from Joseph. Our friend Rich told us that he had come at the Summit the other way, from Halfway to Joseph, as Day 5 of Cycle Oregon. The road from Halfway (Wallowa Mountain Loop) is only open from April to October. Running right through Hell’s Canyon Recreation Area, it is known as one of the premier scenic byways in all of America. “It kicked my butt,” said Rich to us with a proud smile, “But I did it! No sag-wagons here.”

And there it was.

The germ of an idea: Bike from Joseph to Halfway and back. We fertilized it by pulling out topo maps, tracing the route through a giant map, a route that seemed to go up, up, up, and then down, down, down…and then the same thing all over again. We added compost by researching good B&B’s in Halfway to stay overnight so we could do it over two days and wouldn’t have to carry gear. And then, the final touch—like adding a heat lamp to a growing garden. We committed. We decided we wouldn’t be too proud to hitch a ride back if we didn’t finish, but we were definitely going to give this a shot.

Day 5 - Halfway to Wallowa Lake

http://www.bikely.com/

The details of the trip: 75 miles each way, with three summits. About 4,600+ feet of climbing out to Halfway, elevation: about 2,600 feet. And then 75 miles back, with about 6,000 feet of climbing, back into Joseph, elevation: about 4,100 feet.  Here's a great link that shows the topography and the elevation profile for the route that's too big to load into the blog: www.vlmk.com/co2008/day5.pdf


Pedals ready?

Here’s our collage of images…

The world looks different on a bicycle. The whole way through, we didn’t see another bicycle on the road. Lots of hunters, motorhomes, SUVs, dogs, grouse, turkeys, hawks, quail, beautiful white moths, you name it, but no bikes. The views are completely different on a bicycle. You’re smaller and the grandeur around you is grander and larger. You see things you wouldn’t see in a car, and everything is far brighter.

Warm, tart, wild apples eaten right off the tree, just like it used to be for CurioRando growing up in Pennsylvania.

The road is dangerous for small critters!  The roadkill we saw included:  frogs, birds, grasshoppers, snakes (even a rattler), squirrels, rabbits. 

Vastness—big country, big hills, big plains, big valleys, BIG climbs, BIG descents. Surprises: coming to a downhill sooner than expected!  Or reaching the summit just when you thought you really needed to be done!

Patches of green stretching out in the horizon amidst brown straw.

Blue, blue skies.  Sunshine, warm on the face, hot on the arms.  Dappled light, snaking through the trees.

Lodgepole pines, some bowing, some in deep curtsy to the valley.  Ponderosa pines with pumpkin striped bark.

Snatches of flowers amidst rocky outcroppings: daisies, asters, purple thistles, some flower that’s orange on top and yellow on bottom, red and orange lichen. Small blue berries with beautiful green foliage.

Mysterious shadows on the rivers. Cooling, melodic water. Imnaha, Snake, creeks everywhere. Rushing water, eroded rocks, little waterfalls. 

Wind shuddering, whispering, chattering through the trees, whipping at us from front and too occasionally at our backs. One hard climb, it seemed like the wind was behind us for the first time, ushering us up the mountain, welcoming us to the top.

Realizing 30 mile descents are hard on the arms!

Switchbacks stacked up so that you can look straight down and see where you are going to be a couple of minutes and hundreds of feet later. Blessed switchbacks, because otherwise it would be straight up.

Always got a wave from a passing motorist if we waved first and only two cars the whole trip came a little too close for comfort. Most gave us a wide berth and it seemed like we had more respect on the mountains than we do around home.

So much more that can’t be captured in words or even pictures (and just an FYI: our pictures were taken on CurioRando’s cell phone camera to save weight so they’re not as sharp as we would like)…

Our top lessons from this trip:

1. Slow and steady wins the race. As Rich told us, there are no flats on this ride, just ups and downs. 2,000 and 3,000 foot sustained climbs over 18-30 miles was a new experience. It’s just about stamina and saving yourself. We didn’t tear up any hills. The most exertion all at once we expended was at the very end when CurioRando revved up and DartreDame drafted behind him all the way into Joseph, both of us pushing our limits for a grand finale.

2.  Love your Granny!  We used our granny gears a lot!  No shame there--they saved our knees and got us up the mountain.

3.  Carry your own water!  Campground maps and brochures lie.  According to those, there were five spots with water.  We found only one that was actually open.  Kind strangers gave us water and we were much obliged.

4.  Check your equipment.  CurioRando had two flats (the first pictured on top and the second just to the left) and discovered that his tires were completely worn through!  Just got lucky that the tire boot actually held up for the rest of the ride.

5. Trust yourself. What got us going was a belief that we might actually be able to do this, in spite of our fears and even though it was a completely new experience. CurioRando worried about his injuries, DartreDame worried about her fitness. But in the end, we trusted and we made it.

6. When in doubt, dunk. It may be tempting to ride by a little creek on a long, hot climb to get to the top. But it almost always pays to get your head wet, let water drizzle down your neck, even dunk your whole shirt in the river as DartreDame did! The whole world is better for the next half hour. This saved us on the long climbs up in the middle of the beating down heat.

7.  Talk to people you meet.  CurioRando got a great wolf story from the archery elk hunters (who were out from Coos Bay for a whole months!) who bugled in a pack of six or seven wolves.  "It's hard to believe how big a wolf is until you are 20 yards away," said one hunter.

8.  Massage.  When we got into Halfway, we had plenty of sore spots.

We gave each other massages and boy, did it help. Fresh as daisies the next day!

9. Recover and you get stronger the next day. We took Recoverite as soon as we got in, had a good night’s sleep and we actually felt stronger the next day. Knees, joints, everything seemed to work just a little more lubricated and determined than the day before.

10. Riding together strengthens our bond. We had a blast! Plain and simple. Enjoying each other’s company, supportively riding, taking in the new vistas around the corner. (And CurioRando even got DartreDame signed up to be a Randonneur now!) Maybe this isn’t always so, but it sure is our experience!

From Polluto-commuting to Cyclo-commuting

I don't commute by bicycle nearly often enough. Want to hear my excuses?

1. Logistics. I struggle with getting my act together enough to get ready.
2. Need my car at work. I have out-of-the-office meetings to which I can't cycle.
3. There is no number 3.

Pretty pathetic, eh?
I'll now debunk my own myths.

1. Get over the logistics. Commit. It gets easier. If I'm not committed, then I'll find a way so it doesn't happen.
2. Not true. It's not that I need my car at work, it's that I need to travel from my office to meetings sometimes. I often--not always--control when those meetings are. Light Rail is now available. I could cycle to Link Light Rail or cycle to most meetings. Just requires a little planning.
3. Uh, there aren't many reasons NOT to.

So, here is my commitment to myself and you. I say "you" since my driving my vehicle pollutes your world too so when I commit to reduce that driving I am also committing to you.
I pledge to work out a plan so that after Labor Day (little vacationing until then) I will have a solid commitment of how and by how much I will cyclocommute instead of pollutocommute.
Could be that on certain days of the week (Thursday & Friday?) I'll cycle. Or, that I'll drive no more than two days/week. Whatever it will be, I plan to make it manageable and a platform from which I can aspire higher. The intent is to succeed at this plan.
What's the impetus? I've been thinking about this for some time, but the added push was while on my Oregon Randonneurs Alsea Falls 400k Brevet, Tom Russell suggested regular commuting as good randonneuring prep. That is what is pushing me over this hump. I got alot from that brevet as I described in my post of same.
Did you know there is plenty of support for commuting by bicycle? In Seattle for instance, the Cascade Bicycle Club offers classes: everything from urban cycling skills and bicycle maintenance to commuting skills and programs tailored to youth and seniors. Bet you got the same support.

This photo and the graphic at the top of the post are both from the Cascade Bicycle Club Education Foundation link.
For further inspiration, go no further than Kent Peterson's Bike Blog. He drives no car. Just doesn't do it, and hasn't for a long time.
Keep it clean,
CurioRando

Update: see my specific commitment post here and two follow-up posts here and here.

Introducing SingingCyclist: I Wanna Hold Your Hand!

Question: Who sang this song most recently and in what unusual place?
"I wanna hold your haaaaand,
I wanna hold your hand!"

Answer: The SingingCyclist (aka DartreDame's son and CurioRando's stepson, otherwise known as Janak) as he descended 600 feet from a 4500 foot summit of the Zumwalt Prairie road in Joseph, Oregon!

Hi! I am the singing cyclist and you’ll soon find out why! I only just started biking in the last year or two and my longest ride to date was a year ago when I was 11 years old. That ride was a 25 miler (which was only that long by accident of my mom, DartreDame, getting lost) on a day that was about 100 degrees. And it was somewhat remarkable that I didn't get turned off completely given that mom hadn't packed enough water or sunscreen and I was only wearing sandals. Yes, it did take a while to finish...six slow but steady wins the race hours!

So, this year, while spending glorious time up at our little cabin in Joseph, we decided to try again. First we tackled a 20 mile ride that did a lovely loop around Joseph and back up the back way on Hurricane Creek road. It was hard not to be inspired by the beautiful scenery: tall craggy mountains, green patches stretching out into the landscape, vultures swooping down, hawks gliding above.

Our little loop turned out to be only 18 miles, but I was determined to do 20! As a result, we cycled up and down the streets of Joseph town numerous times to reach our goal of magic 20 miles. I was proud but fairly tired.

The bicycling bug had bitten me! The next day, I insisted we go out again for a 30 MILER!!! And this time with a hill. And not just any hill. The Zumwalt Prairie hill, the same one that even DartreDame (my mom) had trouble with her first time. But I was determined. We rode up to the hill and started chugging up it! I was singing (hence the name) constantly as I climbed it, so my mom finally asked me "don't you want to conserve your energy?" I said OK... And then started singing the next minute!

Finally we reached the top। Yay! My personal best climb!

And then the infamous "I wanna hold your hand!!" as we flew down। When my mom caught up to me and asked me how I was doing, I replied "king of the world, wind in my face!" I felt good!



We biked along Eggleson Road out to Hurricane Creek Road. Whoah! A deer carcass! Some car had hit it and then moved it to the side of the road. But we still saw it! It was wild! Once again, I added more to our ride, and this time we went to the 5 mile away town of Enterprise. Hurricane Creek Road from Enterprise to Joseph is a gradual but continuous and very hard (for me) climb (500 feet, 8 miles, and at the end of the ride).

This time, when DartreDame asked me how I was doing I replied "nemesissing," referring to her telling me that this climb had been her nemesis for a couple of years before. (That came from when she and CurioRando biked from Joseph to Enterprise and back to get groceries to make pumpkin pie one freezing cold, snowy, icy and incredibly windy Thanksgiving Day a couple of years back.)

When we got back to Joseph, I was the two P's: proud and pooped :).

I really didn't think I could do any more than 30 miles ever! The next day was a virtuous rest day. We did nothing! But that didn't last long. Soon we were hungry for more! So we decided that after that day of rest, we were ready to try biking to Lostine and back, a town we estimated was about 15 miles away for a total of 30 miles again.

On the way out, we saw signs that said Lostine was further than we thought.

Uh oh.

We kept going but I was a little discouraged. My legs were tired from the other rides and it was only the beginning. I could tell my mom was already worried. She said we could always ask our friend Paul (who lives in Lostine) to give us a ride back if I was too tired. Although I insisted I could bike all the way, I was secretly thinking about the offer.

By the time we reached Enterprise, it was already 10 miles and we still had 10 miles to go—that meant a 40-mile ride roundtrip if we could make it! And I was determined again!

We made it to Lostine and I wasn't too tired, just hungry! Paul had an answer for that. Peanut butter and honey sandwiches and sweet Imnaha corn and cold green tea Snapples! He even played guitar for us and gave us a tour of his great garden. What a great stop!! It got me all ready for the ride home!

We stopped at the Blue Banana in Lostine for pictures. It is a cute-as-a-banana smoothie shop but we were so full from our sandwiches and corn that we decided we would have to come back some other time to try the smoothies and roasted nuts.


This time, the ride home seemed fine! Even the hill coming back wasn’t so bad and I didn't nemesis that much!





Once again, by the time we got to Joseph, we still needed a couple of more miles to make 40 and I insisted! So my mom took us up yet another hill to Old Chief Joseph's grave site। This was a hill that I did last year and it was really hard back then! It was hard again for sure but not as hard and I did it! We sat up at the top on the wall at the gravesite in the shade of the big tree and did high fives!







The way down was a blast! We flew down the hill and ended with a total of a 41 mile day!

All told, we did a total of 90 miles over the course of 4 days! I was really proud and happy and ready to bike some more! I told DartreDame and CurioRando that I want to do a half century this year and hopefully by next year, be ready to do a full century!

The Ultimate Randonneurs: Flying Pigeons

They play by slightly different rules, but Pigeons return home at 60 mph, almost never get lost, and can navigate like nobody's business. I know this by listening to a local radio program where they interviewed Andrew Blechman, author of Pigeons: The Fascinating Saga of the World's most Revered and Reviled Bird.

According to Blechman, Pigeons navigate by the sun and stars. But if you blindfold them, they navigate with other, more mysterious tools. One, apparently is ultrasound. He said they can hear, via ultrasound, the wind rushing over the rockies from 2000 miles away! They also steer by sensing the Earth's magnetic field.
They don't stop to flop down for naps. They don't stop to eat or drink. They'll go 24 hours at 60mph until they find home. Sunspots do screw with their navigating, but otherwise they just rocket.

To hear a podcast of the KUOW radio showon Blechman and his book, go here. A review of Blechman's book can be found in the New York Times.




Many cultures admire the Pigeon, or Rock Dove. In fact, the ubiquitous bicycle in China is the Flying Pigeon according to Wikipedia. It reminds me of the Atlas and Hero bicycles we saw all over India.





And finally, how about a YouTube video of that famous Flying Pigeon bicycle of China?

The Pigeon pictures are from Amazon (top) and Wikipedia (bottom).

Keep it going home,


CurioRando

I Went to the Town Hall Meeting on Health Care and Found...a High Wheeler!

On the way to the Town Hall Meeting in Longview, Washington the other day, I didn't quite know what to expect. What I found when I got there was a very polite crowd and a good public dialogue.

What I found on the way down was my favorite secret obsession: a high wheeler. We stopped in Centralia at the Country Cousin resaurant (where they serve Yak meat, right in Centralia, Yak meat!), and there hanging from the rafters was an old high wheeler.

I believe it is a real one from back in the day. I tried to take a few photos without causing a stir, but I'm afraid I was still a bit of a spectacle.

Anyone know what kind?

Isn't it great that a bicycle is a prop for old-timiness ambiance setting? Who doesn't like an old bicycle?

Keep it hangin' (or is it better not hangin' and rather ridden?)

CurioRando

Dog Chases Cyclist...Let's Call it Sporting, But a Cougar?

Fair warning:

Don't share this with anyone who is concerned about your cycling safety.

I don't like being chased, hairy eyeballed, or even barked at by a dog any more than the next cyclist. And while it can be dangerous to woman/man and beast, it is at least sporting. The dog can only go so fast, and they're bored because nobody plays with them. We cyclists at least shouldn't be surprised; we're cycling right into their territory.

But being stalked by a cougar. Did somebody change the rules of the game here?

This Seattle Times story tells about how mountain cyclist, Brian Klass, thought he was being stalked by a dog only to discover on dismounting that it was a cougar!

Stop. Think about that a second. Can you imagine it? He said it seemed to be in "hunting mode" and came within six feet.

Now I'm guessing he may be exagerating here. Six feet is close. Let's assume his adrenalin is coursing and it is double that: 12 feet. Can you imagine that?

A few days later we learn from another Seattle Times story that a rancher in the Leavenworth, Washington area where the cougar had been stalking, shot and killed said cougar while it had a pig snout in its jaws.

Stop. Imagine shooting a cougar in your pigpen when it has your pig's snout in its jaws.

Too much for me. Just this week I posted about how I ran over what might have been a weasel and had a bobcat cross my path during my 400k. I kind of thought those two encounters were kind of interesting.

If you're out there Brian Klaas, I'm offering you a free post if you'll "tell all" about your close encounter of the cougar kind. For that matter, Mr. Rancher, same offer to you.

Both photos courtesy of Wikipedia.

For a more in-depth story about a variety of encounters with the same cougar prior to the pig incident see this Seattle Times story.

Secret confession: though my Bobcat sighting was my second ever, I've yet to spot a cougar (seen cougar tracks in snow) and I'm just dying to. Er, I mean I'd love to...someday.

Lastly, if you'd like some fascinating reading about a huge variety of cyclist-critter encounters and other wild things that cyclists happen upon (nude couples well, coupling, for example) check out the Fat Cyclist's post and his 144 comments.

Keep it out of your pigpen,

CurioRando

Power of Compassion Broke the Cycle of Vengence Today

Scottish Justice Secretary Kenny MacAskill

I have been noodling for a little while about a post I might write some day about a belief I share with many others that acts of altruism or compassion are not simply expressed and then lost. It is the belief that these acts of compassion or selfless kindness feed a reservoir that promulgates or spurs further acts of altruism. I had hoped to illustrate the point with some randonneuring examples.

I was planning to write about how I tested a corollary to this theory in my college Research Psychology class thirty years ago. The short version is that we approached strangers on the street and asked for directions and variously reinforced them. We found a difference, though not statistically significant, and of course our methodology was suspect. The idea, however, that altruism begets altruism stuck with me.

I was planning to draw this together with randonneuring by telling of a few unselfish gestures. The first is when the randonneur I'd been riding a few shorter brevets with told me I should not ride with him on my next longer brevet: my 400k attempt. John Vincent told me that he'd slow me down, and that I should ride with others so as to increase my chance of success. Riding with him, his logic went, decreased my opportunities.

It is a small thing in the scheme of the world, but it touched me: his generosity.

Then when I attempted my first 400k and ended up riding with another new acquaintance, Tom Russell, I could tell Tom was hoping to finish in under 24 hours. And given his pace, he'd have had no problem. As I reported in my Oregon Randonneurs Alsea Falls 400k Ride Report, Tom chose to hang back with me and my slower pace instead even though he knew he'd finish in more than 24 hours.

Is this a big deal? Not really, but it touched me again. In the race for time and accomplishment today, it is refreshing when someone steps back from these expectations to just lend a hand. The question then is will I extend their acts to fellow randonneurs as they have done. I can only say I hope to.

So as you see, these examples didn't add up to a complete post so much as a notion I'd been noodling.

Then today when I heard Scottish Justice Secretary Kenny MacAskill's statement about his releasing the sole person convicted of the Lockerbie bombing on grounds of compassion, I felt compelled to post.

After a nearly endless cycle of cries for vengeance in so many circumstances all around the globe, I was hearing on my radio a departure from vengeance and opening up to compassion. And not with bashfulness or apology. Kenny MacAskill called upon the Scottish people's heritage of honoring humanity and openly called upon Scottish values of compassion and mercy.

I couldn't believe my ears it was so extraordinary.

Here are his concluding remarks:

“Scotland will forever remember the crime that has been perpetrated against our people and those from many other lands. The pain and suffering will remain forever. Some hurt can never heal. Some scars can never fade.

“Those who have been bereaved cannot be expected to forget, let alone forgive. Their pain runs deep and the wounds remain.

"However, Mr Al Megrahi now faces a sentence imposed by a higher power. It is one that no court, in any jurisdiction, in any land, could revoke or overrule. It is terminal, final and irrevocable. He is going to die.

“In Scotland, we are a people who pride ourselves on our humanity.

“It is viewed as a defining characteristic of Scotland and the Scottish people.

“The perpetration of an atrocity and outrage cannot and should not be a basis for losing sight of who we are, the values we seek to uphold, and the faith and beliefs by which we seek to live.

“Mr Al Megrahi did not show his victims any comfort or compassion. They were not allowed to return to the bosom of their families to see out their lives, let alone their dying days. No compassion was shown by him to them.

“But that alone is not a reason for us to deny compassion to him and his family in his final days.

“Our justice system demands that judgment be imposed but compassion be available.

“Our beliefs dictate that justice be served, but mercy be shown.

“Compassion and mercy are about upholding the beliefs that we seek to live by, remaining true to our values as a people. No matter the severity of the provocation or the atrocity perpetrated.

“For these reasons - and these reasons alone - it is my decision that Mr Abdelbaset Ali Mohmed Al Megrahi, convicted in 2001 for the Lockerbie bombing, now terminally ill with prostate cancer, be released on compassionate grounds and allowed to return to Libya to die.”

Click here to watch Secretary MacAskill's full statement.

Then this evening I had dinner with several of my wife's Indian relatives. When I asked them whether they had heard MacAskill's statement, we got to discussing death penalty cases and how they are viewed. One of them said that he believed that everyone, by being human, has the capacity to change. Even those who have committed evil acts are not themselves evil. Each of us has the capacity to change. If we don't believe that, where does that leave us?

Driving home from dinner I heard another radio show: about non-violence and Martin Luther King and Gandhi. One of King's followers talked about the absolute requirement that to succeed in their campaign against racism and unjust laws they had to sincerely listen to their foes and even love their foes, all of them. She talked about how she led them in a song and added a verse about loving "even Bull Connor" the infamous "member of the Ku Klux Klan, and a staunch advocate of racial segregation" according to Wikipedia. If they didn't believe in their foes' capacity to change, then non-violence fell in upon itself.

A powerful set of insistent truths for one day.

I am awed by Kenny MacAskill's commitment to the truth that we all deserve compassion. It is consistent with Gandhi's Satyagraha or "insistence on truth". The thing that is startling is that while we were all taught about compassion and the Golden Rule as children, living by such a seemingly simple dictum is rare and hard. Kenny MacAskill reminded us that while it is hard, it is possible as individuals and as peoples.

Thank you for indulging a not-so-randonneurish post. I have simply been inspired by compassion and selflessness both big and small. And I believe that small leads to big.

Keep it, give it,

CurioRando

In Search of Bicycling Bliss

Bicycling Bliss is unlike any other single bicycling book. You might find one of the subjects of Bliss covered in some other book or a different subject in still another book, but you won't find all that this author's jammed in anywhere else in one place, and there is plenty here you just won't find anywhere at all.

I met the author, Portia H. Masterson, at the annual Cascade Bicycle Club Seattle International Bicycle Festival a couple years back. You know how you discover something by yourself without having been referred, and it feels more like your own? Silly, I know, but sometimes that's how it feels. Well, that's how it is for me with Portia and her book.

I stepped up to her booth and I discovered she had owned a bicycle shop in Golden, Colorado just after I left Golden. So, I connected with her on her Golden history, and bought her book. It is self-published and costs a whopping $29.95, but it is a goodie. I hadn't seen it anywhere else so I grabbed it. Since then, I've seen other good reviews including in Momentum, and it is now stocked in bookstores in which I hadn't seen it before.

Now understand that Portia is not a randonneur to my knowledge; the term is not in her index. However, just look at the photo below. Clearly she understands a thing or two about long distance cycling and certainly about not being self-conscious. Here's a cooling technique I think some randonneurs believe they've invented. Personally, I would have taken off my helmet, but maybe she's wary of falling rocks or...pirhana?

Here's how I describe Portia's writing: sensible, no-nonsense, caring, gentle, and determined. On the last point, she comes across as one of those folks who just knows that while some of her ideas are not mainstreamed yet--acupressure, meditation, journaling, breathing (I guess breathing is mainstreamed, we all seem to do it, so I'll say conscious breathing)--she's clear and unabashed from personal experience about what she knows. She isn't prone to the latest this or that, so her ideas are grounded in observation, logic, and years of listening to customers.

She also knows a fair amount about body mechanics and body geometry. There are pictures of muscles and anatomy as well as a pithy cartoon here and there as below.

She goes on to say that many cyclists pedal with their saddles too low, essentially doing to our knees what the knee-bending backpacker does.

Portia's also intrepid. When she opened her bicycle shop she didn't know how to wrench at all! Just learned it as she went. That takes some confidence.

But mostly, Bliss is thorough and it's a good book to come back to as you'll continue to draw out nuances. For randonneurs, she's all about comfort on the bicycle and long-term solutions. It's a randonneur's approach for sure.

So if Western medicine has let you down or you want to see how some of the less obvious strategies for wellness pay off if you commit, or even if you don't mind getting distracted by something you come across but weren't looking for, then Bicycling Bliss ought to interest you.

While the text is pretty dry, some of the graphics lighten it up. If the print is too fine in the drawing above it says:

"The unfortunate Timothy McTight is a high-mileage cyclist who has not committed himself to a daily stretching practice or to developing good riding form. Imbalanced and tight muscles limit his health and riding performance."

If you like a cycling book that focuses on the body, then Bliss is a comprehensive and I'd say unique find.

If you also like a book that throws in a two-page chart that outlines all the considerations for different bicycle clothing fibers:

• cotton
• wool
• nylon
• acrylic
• polyester
• polypropylene

according to:

• benefits
• drawbacks
• durability
• care
• best use
• avoid use
• common use,

then Bliss is for you.

If you like a book that respects its readers throughout all 473 pages, and that I guarantee you cannot devour in even several sittings, then what are you reading this for? Go get Blissed!

For more about blissful cycling from Portia herself, go to her Bicycling Bliss website.

Keep it Blissful (of course)

CurioRando

Critters, Conditions, Consumptions & Companions or The Oregon Randonneurs Alsea Falls 400k Ride Report

I'm betting you'd guess this is a picture of me AFTER the Oregon Randonneurs Alsea Falls 400k Brevet. Reasonable assumption given my countenance, but no, this is me right before our 6am start. I seem incapable of taking a photo of myself without blinking. I tried more than once. They all look like this.

My lids seem to want to protect my lenses from the light. Lenses are precious. They help us focus, to truly see. But they also eliminate the other in order to focus on the this. So for this ride report, I am choosing four lenses through which to view the Alsea Falls 400k: Critters, Conditions, Consumptions and Companions.

Critters

Oh, the critters. What a delight! Especially the night critters. I've camped out, backpacked, stayed up late, thrown green apples at bats to watch them invoke their radar, hunted until the sun set, played flashlight tag, and even fished once for most of the night for catfish, but I never penetrated the wild places through the night--awake all night long--before. The Alsea Falls route was really wonderful. While it wasn't the wilderness, it was for the most part forested or rural, and the wilderness creatures were present.

I saw all the usual--but each with its own charm--suspects: jays, herons, squirrels, hawks, deer, bunnies, butterflies, bees, and other unnamed-to-me insects. Knowing the names is important though. Check out this story about naming critters, about taxonomy, from last week's New York Times. One of the cited studies of taxonomy reveals that cultures worldwide almost invariably use two-word descriptions. For example, when the Mayans first encountered the Spaniards they called them village peccaries, for the Mayans were familiar with the pig-like peccaries and the peccaries provided a point of reference.

To further grasp the importance of naming, note that scientists have discovered that patients who have lost use of that part of the brain that names things, and hence know the names of no objects though their brains are otherwise fully capable, are wholly lost. As the article states, if you don't know a carrot from a cat, you don't know which to pet and which to grate.

That is the sad fate of the brain damaged, but what of our collective and voluntary naming atrophy? Carol Kaesuk Yoon writes in her story:

"No wonder so few of us can really see what is out there. Even when scads of insistent wildlife appear with a flourish right in front of us, and there is such life always — hawks migrating over the parking lot, great colorful moths banging up against the window at night — we barely seem to notice. We are so disconnected from the living world that we can live in the midst of a mass extinction, of the rapid invasion everywhere of new and noxious species, entirely unaware that anything is happening. Happily, changing all this turns out to be easy. Just find an organism, any organism, small, large, gaudy, subtle — anywhere, and they are everywhere — and get a sense of it, its shape, color, size, feel, smell, sound. Give a nod to Professor Franclemont (her Taxonomy professor of old) and meditate, luxuriate in its beetle-ness, its daffodility. Then find a name for it."

So as I was saying, I saw all the usual suspects--named and not--but I also saw some I don't see so often. I saw a few Vultures feeding on roadkill deer carcasses. Below is a photo of one--he is in the top middle of the frame--that I found feeding. I tried not to get too close, hence the poor photo, though really he wasn't obviously bothered by my approach. As I was taking this photo, a rider I had met but didn't know, Marcello (see Companions below), cycled by and we exchanged hellos.

I also saw a very large owl fly from a tree up into the top opening (for hay loading?) at the apex of the end of a barn. I'd sure be scared if I were a little field mouse and saw his shadow or heard his wing feathers whistling. I saw what I believe to be a Bullock's Oriole too.

And bats of course. Doing their best to keep the insects in check. But the highlight had to be the Bobcat that crossed in front of my path when it was fully dark. He bounded across the road on the edge of a small rise. Once he had crossed safely and was about to enter back into the foliage he stopped and stared back at me as I turned my bike and my lights lit up his eyes. Then off he went to do his/her Bobcat night thing leaving me to do my night thing.

Well, one of my night things turned out to be running over a critter. I had wondered about making critter contact earlier when I'd seen a deer cross my path a ways ahead. Having hit a deer once with my car, I got to wondering...what if I hit a deer with my bicycle. I've heard it has happened. What would I do?

Well, I found out what I would do. Not much. Tom (see Companions below) and I were riding through some backroads that snaked through farmers' fields when I heard a scrit, scrit scrit and at the same time saw a long, low critter entering the road from the brush alongside the left road edge. It just kept coming--scrit, scrit went its claws on the chipseal--until its trajectory met mine and bump went my front wheel. It happened so fast I'm not even certain whether I rode over it with my rear wheel too. I think not. I think it skedaddled fast!

It wasn't squishy. It was like running over a full fire hose: all muscled and tough. I first called it a weasel though the truth is I never saw its surprised face. Could it have been a pack rat? Also long and furry tailed (I've become all too familiar with them in Eastern Oregon). I certainly know what it wasn't. It wasn't a "regular" rat: no hair on the tail. It wasn't a porcupine: no flat tire! Not a squirrel: too small and are they nocturnal? Not a skunk: I wasn't stinking afterward any more than about 300k would normally induce. Not a mouse: way too small. Not a peccary: no tusks or villages around! Not a turtle: too fast and I didn't fall over from hitting a shell. Not a rabbit: it scurried, not hopped. Not a fox: no scampering, and besides no self-respecting fox would be so un-clever. Not a snake: no slithering. Not a cat: it was low to the ground. One indicator it wasn't a weasel is that it didn't go Pop! I went back to see if I could find it, and it was long gone.

I stayed upright, but it nearly upset my bicycle and me. And as a I said in my previous post, I doubt I hurt it much. From my experience running over my stepson's arm, it doesn't seem to do any damage. I also know from the recipient's point of view. I once had my foot run over by a car tire on a picket line, and despite only wearing tennis shoes I wasn't injured. So there you have it. Unless someone makes a better argument, I'm thinking it was something in the weasel family.

Other ideas?

Conditions

Starting off, I felt pretty darn good. In fact, I had enough in the tank as we approached the summit finish for the first controle that I surged ahead when another nameless-to-me randonneur called out "Eleven minutes!" as he rode past us indicating that the controle closed in eleven minutes.

I reminded him that the organizers relented to pre-ride protests that the controle couldn't be made in time due to the toughest climb being first up. The organizers replied that they'd not hold anyone accountable for missing the time limit on that mountaintop finish first controle. In short, there was no time limit.

He called back to me, between rhythmic deep breaths: "Do it honest!" And so I grabbed his wheel and hung on. I don't know if it was my Presbyterian upbringing and the call to honesty or a more base instinct like the predatory and unconscious but instant swat at a fly that happens by. For whatever reason, despite the voice in the back of my head telling me to pace, pace, pace, it is early, early, early, I stayed with him and we made it together at 8:40. Exactly on time with not a minute to spare as they do say.

The descent was a blast! A little while later I found myself really struggling. I attributed it to the wind and my foolish early push. Everything just seemed hard. At one point, I stopped to take off some clothing and as I pushed my bicycle back onto the road the rear wheel caught tight. Huh?

I noticed that my rim was rubbing the brakes. So that explains the difficulty. But why? Then it flashed on my mind and I thought my brevet was finished. The week before the ride I broke my freewheel on my 34 year old Fuji. My LBS replaced it with another used freewheel. They'd order a new one they said, but I'd forgotten to see whether it had arrived. Now I might be paying the price.

Investigating, I discovered that no, the freewheel was OK. It was just that the wheel was out of true. That accounted for the brake rubbing. It is at this point that the so-called "Curious Randonneur" wasn't so damn curious after all. I didn't seek out the cause of the untruthfulness of my wheel. I loosened the brakes to avoid the rubbing and rode on figuring I'd true up later.

As it got hotter, I felt tireder and listlesser, and the wheels turned slowerer and slowerer. I stopped to check whether the brakes were still rubbing--funny little sound--and at last I discovered the broken spoke. I also now recalled that funny big sound a while back that I attributed to a hard getting-into-gear but even then knew that it wasn't. That must have been when the spoke broke! Again, I hadn't been curious enough to check.

I was feeling less than self-congratulatory when I discovered the offending spoke, but all that soon changed. I reached into my toolkit and pulled out Fiberfix, a Kevlar-corded replacement spoke. The first words on the Fiberfix instruction sheet soothed my ego: "Remain calm and congratulate yourself for carrying Fiberfix in your tool kit."

Right. This isn't a crisis, this is a PBP preparation gold mine! I set up shop in a weedy but shaded gully. As I went to work other randonneurs popped in to check out the condition my condition was in as randonneurs are wont to do. Two, Brian and Dan, stopped to give me a few tips and graciously gave me some space too as there is nothing worse than performing bicycle surgery with more than a few helpful surgeons/chefs. In my haste, I failed to notice that the spoke was frozen to the nipple and I ended up driving the spoke through the rim tape and into my tube. Flat tire now too.

By now though everyone had passed me, or so I assumed. But I was rolling again with a new spoke. The picture below shows the Kevlar replacement in place but with the excess cord still uncut. Remarkable invention, Fiberfix is.

For the rest of the ride, my Fuji's condition was fine, and she got me through. My body was paying a price, however. Mostly little aches around the ankles, but also a deep pain in my left groin. I'd not had it on previous rides, but my physical therapist has certainly uncovered that weakness on her PT table so I wasn't surprised. Advil masked most pain, but I occasionally felt piercing pains there.

By the end of the ride I was tired. My groin hurt a good bit. But my spirits had remained pretty good throughout. I'd even thought up three jokes per my stepson's request (see Companions below) on the way to the first controle. Not great jokes, but you could tell they could be funny if you kind of squinted your eyes and cocked your head a little.

My true bodily condition was revealed after the ride. My outside right ankle, right on the bone that sticks out (Lateral malleolus muscle?) was bright red. Scarlet. So was my left front shin (Tibialis anterior muscle). My left groin was so weak I had to pull my left leg up by my hands, as when I got into a car. My pinky fingers were numb and tingly, and also up along the outside heels of my hands. Finally, I discovered butt welts that hadn't been bothering me. Especially on the right side, the side where I had a shimmed shoe. Perhaps I'm really getting some power from that right side now?

Today, a week later, all is good excepting residual tenderness on my left shin.

Actually, I think that's pretty good considering I had my bicycle fit pretty drastically altered just a week prior to the ride. I had two wedges installed under my cleat on each shoe to adjust my over-pronation. Also, it appears I have a cycling leg length differential (I'd suspected as much since my saddle rotates the post clockwise inside the seat tube). Therefore, my cycle fit physical therapist installed a shim under my right cleat. He also raised the saddle and moved it forward in order to close the cockpit. Finally, he moved my cleats forward to move my feet rearward on the pedals.

All together, quite a bit of adjustment. Just like you're not supposed to do. I will say though that my knees essentially did not hurt as they often do!

Consumptions

I'm a Perpetuem man myself. Mostly. I also take Hammer Nutrition Endurolytes for electrolyte replacement. Hammer Gels too. But I do get these salt cravings and I can devour potato chips like nobody's business. I don't eat chips regularly. "No Meats, No Sweets, No Frits" is my non-randonneuring mantra, but on brevets the chips fairly fly into my mouth.

I also took in some caffiene in the form of Hammer Gel and one cup of coffee at the Brownsville controle. I may have also done two Excedrin tablets for the caffeine.

I drink plenty of water I think. And I bought Tums for the first time, and took three or four of them. Oh yeah, and Advil. Too many, I'm sure, but it is tough to stay to the recommendation if you're going 24 hours without sleeping.

The other thing I tried to take in was the sights. I did stop at Alsea Falls after first riding right on by. I turned around chastising myself: "How could you ride hundreds of kilometers on the Alsea Falls 400k and NOT visit Alsea Falls?" It was hard to discern just how far from the main road the Falls were, but I coasted down and parked the bicycle. Walking down, then up the steep steps actually felt good. There was one couple cavorting on a log that spanned the river and another with two children who used their camera and tripod to take posed photos of themselves as in the one below. The Falls were beautiful and I'd have loved to pause longer, but my inner clock urged me on.

The photo below shows a covered bridge that I'm guessing all Oregon randonnuers know from their Covered Bridges 400k, but it was new to me. Oops, just learned this bridge is not on the Covered Bridges 400k!


Then there is this Victorian home I took in. I wasn't the only one. As I pulled up, two men stood back admiring their work. One was the owner--who wouldn't stand back and admire if you lived in such a fine home?--and he told me it was built in the 1890's.

I also took in much of the subculture of fast food stores and modern day mercantile shops. Folks were friendly and helpful, and the air was clean and honest. I passed by many great photo spots but regrettably didn't stop in my haste. A lesson learned for next time.

Companions

My first companions are Philippe Andre and Michael Wolfe, the mad creators of this route. See Michael's very desriptive pre-ride report here. It was much studied prior to this new route.

As others have noted, the idea that we'd talked ourselves into that all the climbing was over after the first major climb up Bald Mountain was folly. It was 13,000 feet of climbing all told I'm told. For me, that means this was the longest, steepest and darkest ride I've done. Bravo! Thank you Philippe and Michael. I'd also have to say this was the most beautiful route of any brevet to date for me. I'm told that Keith and Alex Kohan, Michael R. and Susan France also helped. Many thanks to all!

It was well organized with good spirit. What more could one ask?

My next companions were my wife, Pramila (aka DartreDame when she posts here) and her son, Janak, my stepson. They were incredible. They volunteered to join me for this ride just to be supportive, and I'm ever grateful. Pramila drove most of the five hour (backups out of Seattle, out of Portland, toward McMinnville, out of McMinnville) trip each way, but best of all was their planned food drop at the first controle atop Bald Mountain. Despite their getting lost and my getting there much faster than I anticipated, I only had to wait for them for about...five seconds. I topped the mountain dismayed to confirm (for they had not passed me) that they weren't there. As I was asking at the staffed controle how to deal with a later food drop, in they came. I delivered to Janak my three goofy jokes, and I was positively elated to be able to share with them my giddiness at not having such a bad time with what was the first and highest (3000 feet or so, I think) climb of the brevet.

Janak came out of the truck with a bottle of water for me in one hand and his stuffed animal (yet another Critter sighting!) in his other. They also gave me my three pounds of Perpetuem that I didn't have to haul up Eagle Mountain. Yahoo! This explains the secret of how I was able to push up toward the summit so easily.

I bid them a hasty farewell as I descended with many verbal good wishes tucked into my jersey pockets. Our good friends Aaliyah and Vesteinn (Vesteinn who completed his first century with Pramila) and their children Raisah and Kian had also made a point to wish me well because they knew how nervous (maybe grumpy is a more apt description?) I'd been. Their support carried me through the night!

Other than my critter companions, I rode alone all day and into the night. I can't remember where it was (somewhere between Monroe and Brownsville) that I once again met up with randonneurs. I recognized one, Marcello, whom I'd met at an earlier controle. When I Helloed them outside a convenience store he asked if I wanted to ride along. Boy did I! I can't convey how badly I wanted company.

His companion was Tom Russell hailing from California and relaxing on a recumbent. (Coming soon to this blog will be an interview with newbie recumbent rider but veteran randonneur, John Vincent, about his recumbent observations.) We struck out together, and it was a new ride for me. This is not to say, however, that I didn't enjoy the solitude. In fact, I did. And I was proud of my wayfinding in the night too. But I was ready for companionship.

As we started in I realized they were going a little faster than I would have liked. I made up on the hills as Tom on his recumbent naturally slowed there, but I've never been very fast on the flats. We rode along though pretty well until at one pont we were uncertain of our whereabouts. Tom volunteered to pedal back a half mile or so to double check while Marcello and I made small talk. He indicated he was wearying despite having just taken a 200mg caffiene tablet. He also had the resourcefulness to whip out his iPhone and verify we were in fact on the right road. Good going!

As we pulled into Brownsville, guess who we encountered? Pramila and Janak! What a surprise! Again with the water and the stuffy, Janak hugs and greets me. I had no idea they were planning to visit another controle. Turns out their Garmin navigated them to a small car ferry that was closed for the night, and they ended up driving around lost for hours!

Nonetheless, it was great to see them. Apparently, other randonneurs arriving before us had seen them too, and I'm getting the picture that randonneurs thought they were the "staff" at the staffed controle at Brownsville. Since randonneurs encountered them first, most ignored Keith and Alex who had in fact volunteered to staff Brownsville. Pramila told me of helping one randonneur remove his jacket because he was so spent he couldn't accomplish that simple task on his own. Turned out they were unbeknownst-to-them controle volunteers!

We rolled out of Brownsville with the end in sight, but Marcello was apparently still tiring. A little while later he told me he wanted to rest for "15 minutes". I turned around and there was no Marcello. Tom and I found his bicycle on the ground and Marcello is flat on his back on the side of the road, already half asleep. We offered to wait for him to finish his nap. We gave him a Tums tablet, but he insisted we go forward.

This was a new deal for me. Though I had read about randonneurs flopping any old where on the PBP and other long rides, I'd never done it nor seen it done. I had this odd feeling of deja vu when Marcello repeated he only needed "15 minutes" and then he'd catch up with us. It was as if Tom and I were buddies in the First World War overlooking our platoon mate who'd been mortally wounded. When our wounded pal said he'd meet us at Yankee Stadium for Opening Day next year we assured him knowing he wouldn't last another hour: "Sure, Marcello, we'll save you your usual seat behind the dugout old buddy."

I just had this sense that Marcello was done for. He couldn't finish, despite our acknowledging that we'd see him later on the route. Marcello had also told me of this other randonneur who had started late Saturday morning and was still behind us on the route. I was dubious, since I had been bringing up what I thought was the rear with my broken spoke delay, and surely such a randonneur would have caught up to me.

In the end, Tom and I pedaled off leaving Marcello on the ground somewhere just before the stop sign at the crossing of a highway.

Tom and I continued and I peppered Tom for some tips and lore. He gave it up. Randonneurs who commute every day to and from work, he said, had an edge. That constant riding, even if not long mileage, adds up and keeps you strong. He also believed that the R-12 program, riding a 200k or longer brevet every month for 12 consecutive months, builds the kind of strength a randonneur doing longer brevets needs. I logged each of these tips in my randonneur training memory bank.

When we reached the Salem controle, it became evident that we might finish in under 24 hours. Amazed though I was, I was also tired. I put it to Tom that if he wanted to push on at a sub-24 hour pace he was free to do so, but that I didn't think I could sustain it. He may have been disappointed, but Tom didn't show it. Instead, he graciously cooled his jets and stayed with me. Thanks, Tom!

Eventually, the dark was peeled away by a determined morning light. Instead of just hearing critters dart off in a rustle of weeds when they heard us pass, we could actually see the morning birds as well as hear their calls. Navigating got easier. Our spirits perked. And we made it in.

My first 400k! And with time to spare. Why was I rushing so much after all? Why didn't I cavort more at Alsea Falls? Next time, I kept thinking. Next time, I will stop to savor even more.

We checked in with Philippe and learned that indeed there was another rider out there: Bill Alsup who provides a crisp ride report here. I really like his report, and his pictures are excellent and remind me again what a great ride it was. Below is Tom on his recumbent as we cross the City line.

And what of Marcello? Of course he made it! Why had I ever doubted? Marcello is a veteran of four years randonneuring. He plans brevets. He finished with Bill Alsup and they had time to spare. Oh me, of little faith!

And this was my biggest lesson: no matter how you feel now, it can change, and better: you can change how you feel yourself. Marcello knew exactly what he needed and it worked. Now that I've seen a flopping randonneur with mine own eyes I just may have to adopt the strategy myself!

There are many lenses, and as a newbie each brevet is an overload of information. I learned a little about what I consume, and I'm learning more about conditioning with each brevet: body, mind and equipment. But most of all, I really delight in the Critters and Companions. Critters and Companions are powerful lenses through which to focus, name and take in this wonderous world.

Keep it flopping,

CurioRando