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

Our Bums on the Saddles in India?!

One of the delights of my life is the opportunity to visit India. Our next trip, coming very soon, will be my third, and this time we are planning to cycle the streets of this fascinating country peopled with truly wonderful and generous folk.

But wait, there's more. We are traveling to Bangalore just as they are kicking off their first ever randonneuring brevet, or organized, long distance, unsupported ride. Not only that, but we are visiting DartreDame's parents (SingingCyclist's grandparents), and one of their neighbors who lives in their small apartment building is an original Bangalore randonneur.

Imagine the odds: there are over a billion Indians, and just over 100 of those billion participated in their first ever Bangalore brevet, and of those 100 one is a friend of my mother-in-law and father-in-law!

So yes, we plan to cycle, and we plan to visit with a few randonneurs. Another Bangalore randonneur I came upon via twitter is the blogger responsible for the Bums on the Saddle blog. Rohan apparently is the owner of a bike shop in Bangalore, and he is quite the proponent of cycling in Bangalore, and near as I can tell one of the organizers of the randonneuring community in Bangalore.

Check out his blog and you'll discover links to Bangalore Brevets Facebook pages, details on the Bangalore brevets, plans to participate in Paris Brest Paris for the first time like me, and much more. Most of all, you'll be charmed I'm sure by the enthusiasm they exhibit for their newly discovered sport of randonneuring. This spirit of enthusiasm and appreciation for the best of Life is precisely one of the aspects I treasure about my visits to India. If you'll permit me a generalization, I must say that this unselfconcious exuberance for Life is characteristic of India and Indians. One need look no farther than the the unbelievable castles, the heart-stoppingly beautiful clothing, the powerful and evocative fragrances of incense, the incomparably delicious and diverse cuisine, and iconically, the Taj Majal itself, one of the world's true wonders.

But of course, the best example of Indian beauties--Taj Majal included and that is saying something!--is Indian women. Exhibits A and B: DartreDame and her mother!

Can you tell I'm excited?

And what of the cycling there? I must admit I'm a little nervous because there are so many cars and autorickshaws and motorscooters that it is a bit intimidating. I've learned though that the bicycle rides begin early in the morning when it is pretty quiet, so one gets out of town before the craziness. That makes sense, and from another link I can't find now the quiet morning streets are a treasure of their own.

The only bummer is that we are missing the actual brevets by mere days. The launch (not ACP-sponsored) was on December 5 and the first official brevet, the 200k MG Road, Bangalore - Mandya - MG Road, Bangalore Brevet, will be on January 15, after we depart.

But if all goes well for me this year and all goes well for the Bangalore randonneurs, we will all rendezvous at our very first Paris Brest Paris come August!

Oh, and for examples of the stunning Indian garb I mentioned check out this link to my previous post. And, for street scenes of working bicyclists, see this previous post.


Keep it enthused!

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

Dreaming of My First 1000k

Photo courtesy of Geoff Swarts and his Green Hornet Randoing blog.

I am itching to do a 1000k. And the wacky thing is I haven't even done a 600k yet! How crazy is that?

Well, I am working toward the Seattle International Randonneurs Sept 24 Crater Lake 1000k, and Geoff and Vincent Muoneke just pre-rode it. To see their pre-ride report, check out Geoff's website.

Thanks, guys for putting all the details together, and for whetting the appetite. I am both terrified and excited. Perfect!

I may end up having a work conflict, but otherwise, I plan to be there!!

Keep it deeply blue,

CurioRando

Vicariously Visting Vancouver Island for 1200 Grand Kilometers

The caption for this photo from the BC Randonneurs Cycling Club VanIsle 1200 website reads: "Van Isle 1200, July 21, 2010. Dewain patiently waiting for me while I take photos of riders passing by the Saanich Inlet."

Dartre and I have a special passion for Vancouver Island from a very particular visit there once. It means a great deal to us.

On another visit I had a pretty interesting black bear encounter while fishing along a bear-frequented river. It is a wild and special place with storied Steelhead streams and lots of open space.

The BC Randonneurs Cycling Club's VanIsle 1200 website has ride reports, fresh photos from the 1200 kilometer grand randonnée that began yesterday and continues into Sunday. Do check them out.

And until I get to ride this one myself, I'll be visiting that special island vicariously through these fabulous rando ride reports and photos. If you're unfamiliar with the sheer size of Vancouver Island, grab a globe and you'll be astounded.

Go get 'em randos!!!

Keep it grand,

CurioRando

Dartre's First 200k: The Three Rivers Cruise!

We didn't hunt and we didn't trespass. And sadly we didn't fish, even though the sign didn't exactly say we'd get shot if we fished. Problem is there isn't much of a remedy for being shot unfairly. But we did pass through some of Western Washington's most beautiful river valleys: the Stilligaumish, the Sauk and the Skagit. As steelhead fishers, Dartre and I certainly checked out some prime fishin' spots.

The Three Rivers Cruise is Seattle International Randonneurs Permanent #4089, and it was 200k via Arlington, Darrington, Rockport, Marblemount, back through Rockport, Concrete and returning to Arlington. In the pre-dawn light, this blue barn stood watch. Is the barn saying "Oh!" (top two windows as eyes, double-X doors as nose, and open area as mouth)?

Our companion, John Vincent (see Part 1 here and Part 2 here for John's interview about his recumbent experiences), and Dartre stopped as the sun was emerging. If you look closely you'll see the frost is indeed still on the punkins. It was 27 degrees.

The Sun emerges with its special first light.

John rode ahead of us as we headed upstream along the Stilly toward Darrington. Fire trucks and aide cars sped past us at a very fast clip, and our brains couldn't shake on this quiet Sunday morning a nagging dread that perhaps John had been hit. We were relieved/sorry to see the equipment stopped for a house fire. Hope all ended up relatively OK there!

Heading up the Skagit hoping for Bald Eagles. About three months too soon I'm guessing. A few years ago on a frigid float trip we spotted about 300 one day. Note the fabulous shoulder for cycling!

In Marblemount, John displays...I can't remember what the conversation was exactly, but he was displaying hardiness of some kind! Perhaps he was demonstrating how he wasn't the object for the aide vehicles' speeding so. John let me sit on his recumbent and pick it up. Damn, that is a light bicycle!

Here, Dartre displays...what can I say: a smooch heading my way as I practice my behind-the-back-with-my-phone photography skills. Only on deserted stretches of road, I promise.

The Skagit with snowcaps in the background.

Our day warms as Autumn settles in.

Feet planted in Concrete.

The Skagit is a powerful river, colored by glacial till.

Typical Skagit gravel bars.

On the bridge over the Skagit just before turning onto the South Skagit Highway, and miles of chipseal.

Even chipseal roads can capture the special light of a late afternoon sun.

It was about 3000 feet of total climbing, about all we needed.

And for Dartre, it was her first ever 200k! No small feat.

Congratulations, DartreDame! You are a Randonneur!

Keep it flowin,

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

R-12 and Planning for 2010

A medal I'll plan to win in 2010.

I had convinced myself that since I completed one each of the 200k, 300k and 400k brevets this season that I might as well go for the 600k. That is, until I saw that the only 600k I could really attempt was a brutal one.

At first, I was bummed. The SIR Mountain Pass 600k looked tough, and by all accounts it was, with lots of climbing over multiple mountain passes. When I consulted the intermediates/veterans, they advised against this being my first 600k. Particularly because of the remoteness.

Good logic, but still a little bummed, I pondered and cast about. California? Maybe, but is this really how I want to spend my and my family's time and resources? Dartre said that if I really thought California was a shot, I should look at it. If I completed a 600k, I'd win the Super Randonneur award. The lure of the Super Randonneur called me like Die Lorelei, the famous German siren who wooed sailors to their death on the rocks of the Rhine River (At least something stuck from High School German Classes. Thank you, Herr Nelson!).

For the uninitiated, the Super Randonneur Award is given to randonneurs who complete a 200k, 300k, 400k, and 600k in one season. The medal is pictured below.

The more I pondered and visualized crashing on the rocks, the more I harkened back to my ultimate goal: PBP in 2011.

That gave me the clue that continual long distance training is what I really need, and so that naturally turned me toward the R-12. The R-12 is an award for randonneurs completing a 200k or longer brevet every month for twelve consecutive months.

Now that is doable, excellent training toward my ultimate goal, and something I can start on immediately. Therefore, on the same weekend that the intrepid were tackling the SIR Mountain Pass 600k, I did my first permanent to move my R-12 objective forward to two months in a row. A modest beginning, but then a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single crank revolution, according to Confucius, I think.

And of course, the 600k and Super Randonneur Award still beckon for 2010.

I got to this eventual peaceful place albeit with objectives unmet in part by reading David Rowe's eBook, The Ride of Your Life, Aligning heart and mind for success in long distance cycling. The book has been reviewed a good bit elsewhere so I won't review it here. What I got from it was a reinforcement to stay focused on what really matters--family, for me--and that planning is central to meeting objectives. So balance, naturally, is the watchword

Truth is I didn't begin the year with a plan, so I feel pretty good about what I did accomplish. The planning for next year begins now. And October 11, my next 200k Permanent and part of my longer term training plan, is coming soon.

Keep it in your dreams, then plan for it,

CurioRando

Fishing Flys in the Face of Finishing a Fine French Foray

Fish swimming up our mighty Northwest rivers tempted me mightily. I love to fish so I had to pause and watch and talk to the fishers, but in the end I did finish my brevet. I finished my first ever Permanent, the Seattle International Randonneurs Permanent #0562: Renton-Dash Point-Orting-Renton. Yippee!

A Permanent, for those who aren't acquainted, is a pre-approved brevet route that a randonneur can ride any time (with pre-approval) and for which he/she can get essentially the same credit. For me that means that because I rode a 400k in August and I just rode the 200k Permanent on September 12, I now have two months in a row of 200k or better. That puts me two months into the R-12 Award which is for successfully completing a 200k brevet every month for 12 consecutive months.

Chinook Salmon, for those not from around these parts, are big fish. The record is over 100 pounds, but this one here is nothing to sneeze at.

I wasn't the only cyclist/fisher. Here is the bike rack, and the cyclists are on the river. Talk about a good day!

One of the things I most love about fishing is the solitude. Some of course can't get out into the wilder parts, and must fish close to home. They miss the solitude, but they exchange it for comraderie. I watched one father help his about-eight-year-old son hang on to a heavy rod as the initiation to fishing the Northwest's famed rivers began. Sweet.

The rivers are "milky" due to high temperatures that melt the glaciers. The glacial till colors the water.

Cows don't fish or cycle. Poor cows.

Here, in Orting, the bicycle and pedestrian path had lots of very smiley folks enjoying the sun and the views of Mt. Rainier. Can you spot Mt. Rainier in the photo?

Here, the water was clear and you could spy fish. I saw many fishers hook and lose fish several times in the space of just a few minutes.

Here's a small glacial-fed stream.

This stream fed into one of the larger rivers, and it was low and crystal clear indicating a lower elevation (non-glacial) source.

This sledge, I think it's called, was on display in a park. Probably used as a steam-powered "donkey" for pulling fallen logs out of the forest. Correct me someone if I've got it wrong. Here's a cool site that describes steam donkeys.

The Permanent #0562 route map.

Elevation profile. Cumulative elevation is reported to be 3400 feet.

I enjoyed this route very much. Diverse. Took me places I haven't and wouldn't otherwise see (the town of Selleck, for instance that is on a dead end road, but is only 7 miles as the crow flies to North Bend, this according to local residents at an outdoor birthday party who kindly filled my water bottles). I believe the route was created by Amy Pieper. Thanks, Amy! Narayan Krishnamoorthy made all the administrative preparations for me. Thanks, Narayan! He and Geoff Swarts are the Seattle International Randonneurs Permanents Czars.

This cyclist answered my perfuntory "Have you got the tools you need" call as I sped by with a non-perfunctory, perhaps plaintive, "Actually, I could use some help," response. I stopped and helped her change her flat. She thanked me--offered to ride ahead together--and pre-apologized for the fact that she wouldn't be able to keep up with me. She urged me to feel free to pass her when I needed to. She added that she was only a "Cat 4 Women's Racer."

I believe she was conflating the fact that I could change a tire with the notion that I was necessarily a fast cyclist.

Shortly after this picture she became a very small red dot. Then a teenwy weeney red dot. Then...was there a red dot there?

She left me in the dust.

I enjoyed my first Permanent, though it kicked my butt. Having just ridden a 400k I had it in my head that a "little" 200k would be nothing. Hmmm. I also think an accumulation of more miles than I've been accustomed to was adding up and I found myself grumpy and low afterward. Just ask DartreDame. Overtraining?

In the end, I finished this brevet thinking the French had the right idea. A foray into the countryside is good for the soul. Despite being tempted to stop and wet a fishing line, I finished in time.

But I think you'll find me fishing sometime soon.

Keep those lines tight,

CurioRando