Two Mad Dogs and An Englishman

This past weekend, the Oregon Randonneurs and the Seattle Int'l Randonneurs hosted a 12-Hour "Dart" event, in which teams from both clubs converged on a central point (in this case, Centralia, Washington) from various distant points (at least 180 kilometers distant) via routes designed and submitted by the individual teams. I really wanted to try a Dart this year, and when I learned that my friends Andrew and Bill were also interested, I immediately suggested we team up. We needed at least three riders for a team, but could have as many as five. We could not find anyone else to join us however, nor did the Oregon club field any other teams. As sole representatives of Or Rando, we were determined to do well. The Seattle club fielded four teams, but I think we had the best team name - because Andrew is English, and we are all a wee bit demented, Noel Coward's phrase seemed appropriate.



There are all sorts of tricky rules for a Dart. Your route has to be at least 180 kilometers in distance, and you get credit only for the shortest route between controls that is safe for cycling. So you could, in theory, design a longer route, but not get credit for all the distance. The other main rule is that your team must ride at least 25 kilometers between the tenth and twelfth hour. Andrew designed our route - a part of which I've described in earlier posts about my pre-rides of it. He promised it would not be too hilly.

We left downtown Portland at 7:17 AM, two minutes after our scheduled start time. We needed someone to sign our brevet cars, so we stopped at the nearest Starbucks (none of the non-Starbucks shops was open yet) and bought the least expensive thing we could find - the teeny, tiny vanilla bean scone.




It was 35 degrees and very frosty, but we took that as a good sign that, after a week of rain, we were in for a clear day. We were all wearing multiple layers, and were already worrying about where we would stow all that extra clothing if we did, indeed, need to start stripping it off as (if) the day warmed up.

Our first control point was across the Columbia River in downtown Vancouver, Washington. Yet another Starbucks. Bill asked if we were going to do the Starbucks tour of Washington. A quick bathroom break and hot soy milk cocoa and we were ready to go, but then a man came out and started asking Andrew questions about his Bike Friday. Andrew politely answered his questions, and then the guy started talking about biking in general. He was a nice old guy, and we didn't want to be rude, but we were late out of the control and getting later by the minute. As Lynne would say, I was "starting to get all OCD" . . . Finally he went on his way, and we went on our way.

The sun was well up at this point, and it was obvious that it was going to be a glorious day. On to Battle Ground Safeway, and the second control. Again, this was a section of the route that I had pre-ridden, so I knew where most of the turns were well ahead of time. Nevertheless, for some reason I got confused on St. James Road, and for about 1/2 a mile was absolutely CONVINCED that we'd missed our turn. Andrew kept reassuring me that we had not, and eventually things started to look familiar again. We reached the second control in good time, but then spent more time faffing around there than we should have. Most of it was my fault - the elastic in my riding capris had come undone, and I spent at least 10 minutes fighting to get it back in place. Note to self: Next time bring a safety pin to attach to one end of the elastic.

Our next stop was the La Center Little League Field. It was not a scheduled control, but Andrew knew that it had a good restroom (always an important consideration) and it would also be a good point to make wardrobe adjustments. Given that we would be starting some serious hill climbing shortly after La Center, we wanted to pare off some of the heavier layers.



There were a couple of small climbs between Battle Ground and La Center (one especially nasty but short 16% pitch on J.A. Moore Road) but the first REAL climbing of the day came shortly after we passed through Woodland and turned up onto Green Mountain Road. I knew from my pre-ride that Green Mountain was steep, but now with my nifty new computer, I knew exactly how steep it was. It started at an incline of 9% and quickly ramped up - 11%, 12%, 13%, 14%, 18%!!! Most of the time it ranged between 11 and 14% - I started to look forward to those brief points when it was ONLY 9%. The view from the top, when I finally got there, was pretty nice, however.



The road down from the top of Green Mountain was also very steep, with many technical turns and a lot of loose gravel on the road surface. In the other words, all that climbing and no pay off. "Oh well," I thought to myself, "at least we are done climbing for the day." Silly me.

At the bottom of Green Mountain, we turned onto Cloverdale Road, which rolled gently north toward Kalama. We were surprised by a herd of deer, at least five or six head, which came bounding gracefully over the road ahead of us. Once they reached the other side of the road, they turned back, looked at us, and then bounded back the way they had come. A few stood still long enough for a photo, however.



Next stop, Kelso - our third control of the day. Another Safeway for me and Andrew and, for Bill, another Starbucks. It was also lunch time. I'd packed "real" food (as in "not Clif Bars")- some potatoes, a few bananas, a couple of eggs and some baked tofu that I had covered in VERY salty Cajun-style seasonings. I had already eaten most of the bananas at the previous controls, but proceeded to make quick work of the eggs, half of the potatoes and half of the tofu. Andrew bought some pita chips and I helped him with those, as well. Some more wardrobe adjustments, and some equipment repairs, and it was time to go.



Once again, we pulled out of the control a few minutes behind schedule, but I figured we'd make up the time because the rest of the course was pretty flat. Right.

We were now entering that part of the route that I had not pre-ridden, and we promptly got lost. Our cue sheet directed us to turn left on a street that (1) was one-way in the wrong direction and (2) we couldn't get to, anyway. So we went to the NEXT street and turned left there. That immediately took us up onto a bridge. I looked down from the bridge, and saw a sign for the street that was the next turn listed on our cue sheet. So we turned around, went back down off the bridge, figured out how to get under it and got onto the street our cue sheet said we should be on. Sadly, there was a street by the same name on the OTHER side of the Cowlitz River (over which the bridge we had just left went) and THAT was the one we were supposed to be on. We eventually figured this out, and got back on track.

We were now on the west side of the Cowlitz River, heading north on the Westside Highway. Not the best of cycling roads, but not terrible. A little bit hilly, but mostly gentle rollers. The sun was out, it was warm, and we were making great time. We shortly turned off the Westside Highway, onto Sandy Bend Road, and I soon realized that we were not done with our climbing for the day, after all. Indeed, Green Mountain had just been the trailer for the main event, so to speak. For the next 20 miles we climbed roller after roller, each time thinking "This has to be the last of it." But the weather was still good, and the scenery beautiful, so I didn't mind the hills all that much.





At the turn off onto Highway 506 toward our 10-Hour control, we crossed paths with one of the teams from the Seattle club. They, too, were headed toward their 10-Hour control. We chatted for a while, took each other's pictures, and headed off in opposite directions.



Our 10-Hour control was in Winlock, Washington. By Andrew's calculations, we would reach there at about 4:21 PM. We could not leave until 5:17 PM, the 10-hour mark, and so we were hoping we'd find ways to fill the 45 minutes or so. We needn't have worried. First of all, we had already proved that we could waste significant amounts of time at controls without even trying. Second of all, it turns out that Winlock offered of us all sorts of ways to waste time. For example, playing on the giant metal chickens that have been placed all along the (very short) main drag.



Or admiring the World's Largest Egg



We also made use of the public library's very nice rest room, did some administrative work on our brevet cards, and I ate the last of my potatoes and tofu. The 10-Hour point arrived, we got ATM slips to verify where we were, and started off on the home stretch. Finally, the route WAS completely flat, we had two hours to cover less than 18 miles, and the weather was perfect. We were golden.



Whoops.

One problem with Internet mapping tools is that they don't know when a highway overpass has been washed out by a humongous flood.

Let's just say that it was a good thing Andrew had his GPS with him, as I went into full OCD panic-mode. We were 11 miles from Centralia, but I had no idea how to get there without going on the road that no longer existed. But Andrew fiddled with his little satellite receiver and soon we were headed in something that appeared to be in the right direction. Shortly thereafter we found ourselves in downtown Chehalis, and back on our original route.

Our detour ended up being less than 2 miles, but we had eaten up some time fretting about where to go, so we knew that we might be cutting it close. We picked up the pace, and pulled into the 12-Hour control (and official finish line) at the Olympic Club Hotel with 17 minutes to spare. I was starving. I checked into the hotel, carried my bike up the (very) steep stairs to my room, came back down to the bar where the other riders had gathered, and promptly ordered a beer, a veggie burger, tater tots, and another beer. Bill and Andrew came in a few minutes later, and we celebrated a ride well done.



The next morning we all gathered for breakfast before dispersing back to our starting points. We shared our stories, and ate a few more mountains of food. I had been planning to take the train back to Portland, but my friend Susan pointed out that she had plenty of room for me, my bike and my luggage in her car and she had to go through Portland to get home, anyway. The train wasn't due for at least another two and one-half hours, and there was nowhere nice in Centralia to hang out and wait, so I took her up on her offer.



Ride Stats:

Total Distance: 118.59 miles/190.85 km
Total time: 11 hours, 43 minutes
Total saddle time: 8 hours, 47 minutes
Average Speed: 13.5 mph
Max Speed: 45 mph (I sense a trend here)
Min Speed: 2 mph (Green Mtn.)
Total Elevation Gain: 5465 ft
Max Elevation: 909 (Green Mtn.)
Max Incline: 18%
Average Incline: 3%
Calories burned: 5372
Calories consumed: At least that many ;-)

The rest of my pictures are here

Yay Me!

Yay Me!
Originally uploaded by cecilanne

My RUSA distance award arrived yesterday. 2000 km in sanctioned events. This year I am shooting for at least 3000 km, plus an R12 and the Super Randonneur. Only slightly amibitious . . .

Road Trip!

I have a general rule that I do not drive my car to ride my bike. It just doesn't make sense to me to drive 5, 10, or 20 miles when I can just as easily hop on my bike, ride to the start and then ride home afterward. Of course, almost all my rides start within 20 miles of my home, so that's easy enough for me to say. Sometimes, though, I just have to suck it up and take the car. Like this weekend, for instance, when I decided to ride the Seattle Randonneurs' first 200K of the 2008 season. I decided that I just did not feel like riding my bike the 180 or so miles to Kent, Washington. So on Friday I packed up the car and headed North on I-5 for the Emerald City of Seattle. I planned to spend the night at my brother's house in North Seattle and then in the morning drive down to Kent for the ride. Friday was my mother's 76th birthday (not to mention "Pi Day" and the anniversary of Albert Einstein's birth), and she was staying with my brother (another reason I drove up, so I could bring her back to Portland with me) so we all went out for Chinese food at the very good Judy Fu's Snappy Dragon.

I set my alarm for 4:30 AM (after finally convincing Mom and bro' that I REALLY needed to go to sleep), and woke up to the sound of heavy rain on the skylights. Ugh. Oh well, I was prepared for rain - heck, I was prepared for snow, because I knew we were heading up into the foothills of Mt. Rainier.



I was out the door by 5:15 - I had not had any tea yet, but assumed that (this being Seattle, after all) I would find a coffee house open somewhere along the 32 miles between North Seattle and Kent. Happily enough, there was a Starbucks open by the Renton IKEA - probably for those early morning bargain hunters.

I arrived at the start pretty early, but there were already at least 50 other riders there, with more arriving as the seconds passed. Over 100 riders started, I believe. And it was raining heavily. My friends Lynne and Bill had also driven up, and had scored beds in the organizer's house (which was where the ride started), so they had little to do to get ready but roll out of bed and into their clothes. Yes, I was jealous. Because it was so cold and wet, it took me a while to get all my gear together - my fingers sort of stopped working for a while. But I was almost ready when Bill and Lynne rolled up, and we were off. The ride began with a long, steep, swift downhill. I knew, of course, that meant that the ride would end with some sort of UP-hill, but I put that out of my mind for the moment.

Not too long into the ride, I realized that my new computer was not registering. Given that being able to follow the cue sheet required me to know how far I had traveled, I pulled over to figure out what was going wrong. Lynne and Bill went on ahead - I figured I'd catch up to them at some point. I spent a considerable amount of time screwing with the spoke magnet and pick-up before I figured out that I simply hadn't mounted the receiver correctly. Dur. Oh well. By this point, most of the riders had passed me by - so I hoped I'd be able to figure out where I was on the cue sheet and then do whatever math was required to figure out my actual mileage. Fortunately, I caught up with another rider at a red light - Gene, a Tacoma Wheelman on his first brevet - he knew the roads and was very friendly and great company.

We soon caught up with Lynne and Bill on the first climb of the day. Gene pulled ahead, and Bill dropped off, and Lynne and I rode together to the first control.   There we chatted a bit with Mark Thomas, who was checking our cards, and split a tasty vegan muffin I had brought from home.   Lynne demonstrated how she had customized the rain cover for her Bell Metropolis helmet.



We caught up with Gene and his friends (as well as another Or Rando member, Paul Scherlie) in Auburn, and rode with them most of the way to the second control at the bakery in Black Diamond. We went down the main street of Auburn as a group, taking the lane - it was a biker invasion. There's a long climb just before Black Diamond, at which point our group broke up. I was ahead of Lynne - a little further ahead than I thought, and so did not realize that she missed the turn off to the control. When I had gotten there, Gene was waiting directing traffic, and I thought that Lynne was close enough behind me that he would still be there when she reached the turn. Oops. So she got a little extra mileage in. She made up for it with a giant cinnamon apple bun with cream cheese frosting.



I helped her a little with that. The bakery was warm, friendly, and filled with soggy, hungry cyclists. On the way into Black Diamond, we had seen dozens of cyclists headed in the opposite direction, and got a little confused because we knew our route did not go back that way - it turned out that another cycling club was also out for a rain ride, and had started from the bakery (all the best rides involve bakeries).

It was a new experience to be on a long ride where I did not know ANY of the roads. Well, that's not exactly true - there was a stretch toward the end of the ride that I knew from RAMROD two years ago - but most of the route was a complete mystery to me. Lynne had looked at a map the night before, and so had a vague idea where we were going, but I was completely turned around. It was kind of fun, but also kind of disorienting. At one point we were riding along the edge of Puget Sound, and I thought it was some lake EAST of Seattle. Silly me.

It poured rain off and on for the first 84 miles, and so the scenery wasn't much to look at - mostly gray and dark and shadowy. We did get a couple good views of the sound from Dash Point, and later on we saw some nice snowy foothills around Mt. Rainier. Of course, we never saw Rainier itself. That would have been asking too much.



The route was pretty hilly. According to my nifty new computer, the total elevation gain was just under 5800 feet. Our highest point was just over 1600 feet near Greenwater. That was also where it was 38 degrees and sleeting! Hot chocolate never tasted so good. There were only two climbs that I would consider difficult, though. The first one came at about the 45 mile point - a 1.5 mile climb with a grade between 6 and 8%. The good news was that it less than two miles from the end of that climb to the aforementioned justifiably famous Black Diamond bakery. The second tough climb was toward the end of the ride - only another mile or so in length, but this time the grade was 8 to 11%. Ouch. There was also a long slug on Hwy 410 to Greenwater, but the grade on that was gentle - no more than 2 or 3% at any given time - it just never seemed to end.

At the finish, the organizer, Greg Cox, had opened up his house for a chili feed. Vats and vats of delicious chili, cornbread, sweets, fruit, lasagna, salad, trail mix. And a shower for those who brought their own towels. Which I had. It was good to be clean.



Equipment report: I was in full-on raingear mode. I wore my uber-reflective "Don't-Hit-Me Orange" Bell Metropolis helmet (sans custom rain cover), longsleeve wool jersey, Showers Pass jacket, Terry long shorts, Craft "Storm" tights, wool socks, PI Mid-Alp Gore-Tex boots, and Sugoi Resistor booties. On my hands I had my Descente "Wombats", covered by my Sasquatch S'mittens I was completely dry, head to toe, for the first five hours. Well, not completely dry. My hands were wet, but they stayed pretty warm as long as I kept moving. If we stopped for any extended period, my fingers would freeze up. At hour five, my left sock began to feel quite wet, and by hour 5.5 my right sock was wet as well. My boots weren't filled with water the way some of my other shoes can get, but there was definitely some sloshing going on down by my toes. I think that it must come up through the holes in the sole where my cleats are attached. Lynne's feet (same boots, same booties) were also wet. Fortunately, I had extra socks with me, and changed them out in Greenwater. I stuck in some chemical toe warmers for good measure. I had also brought spare dry shorts, but never needed them because the Craft tights were completely waterproof. Hooray for Swedish technology! The Sugoi booties are great, but they have one major flaw. They do not appear to be made for riders who actually stop at stop signs and put their feet down. I have had mine for less then three months, and already have shredded the toes.

Ride stats:
Total Ride Time: 11 hours 59 minutes
Saddle Time: 9 hours, 44 minutes, 5 sec
Distance 127.92 miles
Avg. Speed 13.1 mph
Max Speed 45 mph
Total Elevation Gain 5794 feet
Avg. Climb 3%
Max Climb 11%
Avg Temp 40 degrees

Did I mentioned it was muddy?

The Snoozeville Populaire

Okay, first things first, I KNOW that the real name is Snooseville. But this ride has been called Snoozeville since its inception, and you know how folks can be about change. . .

Anyhoo, today was the Oregon Randonneurs' first organized ride of the season. It was a "Populaire," which, according to the RUSA "glossary" is "a shorter randonneuring event usually run under the regulations and pace of a standard brevet, but being less than 200 kilometers in length. . . often 100 or 150 kilometers in length and frequently used by experienced randonneurs for training and/or socializing, as well as introducing new riders to the ways of randonneuring." Last year, we had 39 riders. This year I am guessing there were at least twice that many. I am chalking part of it up to the promising weather forecast, but I have also noted an increased interest in randonneuring on the part of many riders who are tiring of doing the same old supported rides every year.

The ride was to start at 8:00 AM, from the Cornelius Pass Roadhouse in Hillsboro, about 20 miles from home. As usual, I rode to the start, which meant leaving Ladd's at 5:30. My friend Nat decided to join me (I can always count on Nat to go the extra miles) and he showed up at my house right on time. Of course, I was still faffing around, trying to get my new computer to cooperate (more on that later), but in short order was ready to go. We were meeting Lynne (another person I can count on to go the extra miles) at the top of her hill at 6:30, and from there were going to pick up our friend Jason at his house at 6:45. Assuming all went as planned, we would get to the start in plenty of time to register, powder our noses, and (being "experienced randonneurs") socialize . . .

Climbing up through Washington Park past the Zoo to get to the Hwy 26 bike path, I began to feel seriously overdressed. It had rained all night, and I had put on rain gear just in case it started up again. I also had on a long sleeve wool jersey, leg warmers. and winter gloves. The cloud cover had kept the temperatures up, however, and so I got a little warm (especially on the 15% grade by the Rose Garden)(did I mention I have a new bike computer?). Coming DOWN from the Zoo, I appreciated all that gear, however . . .

When we got to the hill by Lynne's house, she wasn't yet there, so we headed down to meet her. With her new headlight, it wasn't difficult to see her coming up the hill toward us. Then it was off to Jason's, where he was ready and waiting. He led us to the path he takes on his daily commute - a really great route with no traffic (part of it is on a park path, the rest on low traffic streets).

We got to the start by 7:20, and there were already dozens of riders there. A lot of familiar faces, and a few that I had never seen before. A whole bunch of skinny guys in matching spandex race kit were there. They looked pretty funny mixed in with the generally wool-clad randos. Of course, once the ride started, they took off like bats out of hell and we never saw them again. I wonder if they'll show up for the longer rides . . .

Lynne and I had decided that if people were going to tease us about the fact that we were slowly morphing into each other (there had been mutterings of "Bobbsey Twins"), we should give them something to really work with. So, from the top of our "Don't Hit Me Orange"-colored helmeted heads to our Sugoi Resistor booty-covered feet, we were a matched set. Of course, Lynne's pink Road ID band was on her ankle, and mine was on my wrist, but otherwise . . . . anyway, I think we got more of a kick out of it than anyone else.



Bill gave the usual instructions and we were off.



I was riding more quickly than usual, because I needed to get back to entertain my mother who is in town, and I also had an appointment to get my hairs cut (each and every one). Of course, these days "more quickly than usual" is a relative term - I was passed by about 3/4 of the riders before I reached the first control.

The first control was Fern Flat, at the end of Dairy Creek Road. Dairy Creek road is a 7.5 mile climb disguised as a flat. It LOOKS flat, but once you turn around and head back the way you came, you realize that you'd been climbing the whole time. As I rode up to the control, the first thing I saw was a rider (male, of course) answering the call of nature off the bridge that was the info control clue. It was impossible to look for the bridge number without having to also look at what he was doing. Perhaps next time he'll rethink that strategy. It's a good thing that Bill was there to fill in my card for me - otherwise, I might have answered the question with "urine" or, perhaps, something even MORE inappropriate . . .

Sign on Dairy Creek Road - How, exactly, does someone lose a COW?

I saw a few friends at Fern Flat that I hadn't seen at the start, met a few folks that I only knew as on-line personalities, but I didn't stay long - I was on a mission. I rode most of the way from Fern Flat to Roy with a guy named Tim, who mentioned that he'd been reading Lynne's and my blog posts about randonneuring and decided to try it. I tried to talk him into doing the Berkie Brevet next month, but he is still undecided. "How do you train for 200s and 300s?," he asked me. "I ride my ass off," I said.

From Fern Flat to the next info control at Cedar Canyon was pretty uneventful. There was a "secret" control just past Frogger Junction, and I was pleased to see that the info control at Jack Road and Cedar Canyon was new (we all knew that there were two faded green plastic strips tied to the pole - it was definitely time for a change). Today we had POM-POMs tied to the pole - very colorful!

Then it was on to Forest Grove, for the "open" control. In THEORY, we could have gotten our cards signed anywhere, but of course we all went to Maggie's Buns - great food, nice people, and a discount for cyclists! Maggie was working the register - she asked what I wanted.

Me: "A brownie, please." "

Maggie: "Do you want an Orgasm Bar?"

Me: "No, not today, thanks."

Maggie: "Are you sure?" (disappointed look).

Me: "Aw, honey, I'm in menopause; I don't get those anymore."

I thought Maggie was going bust a gut laughing. She gave me my brownie for free. It was a blackberry brownie, and quite delicious.

From Maggie's back to the roadhouse, I was pretty much on auto-pilot. My right knee had been complaining since about 9:00 AM (incipient patellar tendonitis?) and I was eager to be done. Of course, at this point I was still 35 miles from home, and there were some big hills in the middle of that 32 miles - I hoped my knee would hold out long enough to get me there. I took it easy, and stopped to take pictures of people's yards.



Passing through Verboort, I came across the Velo race team (to be more precise, they came across me - I was waiting at the intersection of Porter and Verboort as they came flying past: "Hi, Cecil!", "Hi, Ty!"). I briefly contemplated trying to catch them, but got over it.

I was still riding as hard as I could, and was on track to complete the ride in about 4.5 hours - but then I got stuck waiting for a very long, very slow timber train at Cory Road. While I was waiting, my friend Mike, who was also doing the Velo ride (but not with the race team), and Carl (Karl?), another randonneur, rode up. The three of us rode most of the rest of the way together, until Mike peeled off for Longbottom's.

Back at the Roadhouse, Bill was signing card and handing out lapel pins - a nice touch, I thought. Of course, TRFKAF is now sporting the pin, along with all his other ride jewelry. I popped inside to powder my nose, and to check on what was suspiciously starting to feel like a saddle sore (and which proved to indeed BE a saddle sore - it's been ages since I've had one - must be time for new shorts). On the way to the rest room, I was hailed by Richard, Nance and Nat. They'd been there at least half an hour, because they already had their lunch and were well into eating it (mmm, fried things . . . ). After admiring Nat's British Commando sweater, it was time for me to be off.

The climb back up to the top of Sylvan was more painful than usual, thanks to my grumpy knee and grumpier posterior. ON the other hand, I enjoyed the descent into downtown more than usual, so it all worked out. At the end of the day, I had covered 101 miles in just over 7 hours riding, with another 1.75 hours of standing around at the start or controls (aka "faffing" time). I hadn't drunk enough water (always a problem on cooler days - I don't get as thirsty, and so don't think to drink), so I had a killer headache, but that was easily resolved with water, food and Vitamin 'I".

Total Stats (did I mention I have a new computer?)

Distance: 101.19 miles
Total Time: 9 hours
Total saddle time: 7 hours, 11 minutes, 32 seconds
Average Speed: 14 mph
Maximum Speed: 32 mph
Elevation Gain: 4048 ft
Maximum Altitude: 789 feet
Average Climb/Incline: 2%
Maximum Climb/Incline: 15% (that nasty little pitch up from the Rose Garden in Washington Park)

Rocky Mountain High/Rocky Mountain Way

Okay, folks, everyone send good "Don't Get Smashed In Shipping" vibes in the direction of Colorado Springs, because my baby's off to paint . . .

I Want to Ride My Bicycle . . . I Want to Ride My Bike

As regular readers will recall, last December I was all set to take delivery of my new custom Sweetpea bicycle. Sadly, the "B" team at Fed Ex decided it would be fun to smoosh the bike's headtube on the way back from the powder coating plant in Colorado.

One sad telephone call later, and Natalie was busting out her fabrication tools all over again. Time passed, and the new and improved Sweetpea is almost ready to go back to the painters (this time packed in a giant lead case, no doubt . . .

If all goes well, I may be riding H.W. Jr. within a few weeks!

2.5 times my weight in food

Usually, my obsession with exercise benefits no one but myself (and I have family members who question whether I benefit from it). This past month, however, I was able to put my obsession to good use. From February 1 through 29, Department of Justice participated in the Governor's Food Drive to benefit the Oregon Food Bank. There were many ways we could contribute, and one way was the "Fitness Challenge." The Challenge originally started as a walking fund-raiser; folks would pledge to give a certain amount for every mile walked by Challenge participants. It was later expanded to include running and swimming (each mile run or swum would equal a mile walked), and cycling (with each mile biked equaling .4 of a mile walked - complex calculations were employed to come up with that ratio). The only catch was that it had to be done before or after work, or during breaks. Anyway, because I walk just over 3 miles every day to and from my commuter bus, and because I either swim, run or ride most lunchtimes, I figured I could probably get some miles in and raise some money for the food bank.

By February 29, I had racked up 104 miles. Again using complex calculations based on the pledges made, and the amount of food those pledges would buy, my contribution equaled 326 pounds of food - or 2.5 times my body weight.

It's a good feeling.

Dart Pre-Ride, Part the Second

Yesterday I drove with my bike out to Battle Ground, Washington to continue testing out the route that my friend Andrew had designed for us to follow on the 180km "Dart" that we plan to ride in March. I'd done a portion of the route last week, but wanted to get a little bit further along this time. We have to submit the route for approval by March 9, and I wanted to have as much of it pre-ridden as I could by then. The section I'd chosen for Saturday's ride was from Battle Ground to Kelso, by way of LaCenter, Woodland, Kalama and Carrolls. The stretch from LaCenter to Kelso would all be new terrain for me, and I had no idea what to expect.

It was sunny, breezy and cold - 34 degrees - when I pulled into the parking lot of the Safeway in Battle Ground, my chosen start point. I had chemical hand and toe warmers with me, and decided to deploy them. I also pulled out the fleece ear warmers and wool helmet liner. I was quickly ready to ride and set off, after first checking that I had (1) locked the car, and (2) not locked my keys in it (I checked on that 4 times - because like all the cyclists I know, I am just a LITTLE bit OCD . . . )

The route from Battle Ground to LaCenter starts on a busy highway, but quickly gave over to farmland. Near Daybreak Park I turned onto the route followed by the Vancouver Bike Club's annual "Ride Around Clark County." Nice, narrow country roads with no shoulders that change their names every time they curve . . . just the kind of thing to give an anal OCD cyclist working on a cue sheet fits. Except for one steep sharp pitch on JA Moore Road, and another steep roller on Lockwood Creek, the route was very flat. I wish I could say the same for the section from LaCenter to Kelso.

I should have known there would be trouble when I was mapping the route out on Friday night and saw that I would be spending a good bit of time on "Green Mountain Road." Keyword: MOUNTAIN. It turned out to be over three miles of very steep uphill. I think that my top speed was about 5 mph, but I spent most of the time down between 3-4 mph. I had to stop THREE times because I was going so slowly that maintaining verticality was a challenge. I kept thinking, "Boy, I'd better get some awesome descent as pay-off for this!" But alas, it was not to be. The road back down (Lane Road - I kept wondering if it had a counterpart called "Road Lane" somewhere) was treacherous; very steep, with tight turns and a fine film of sand and gravel over the entire road surface. I, who rarely use my brakes on descents if I can help it, rode my brakes down the whole way. Toward the end, there is a section where the pavement was gone, and there was just hard pack dirt and gravel. It was only about 3 ft. wide, though, and passable. Whew! The rest of the route had more gentle slopes, but I was climbing for most of the segment. I spent most of my time paralleling I-5 on the old Pacific Highway (aka Cloverdale, 1st Street, Meeker, Cottonwood, Old 99 S, Kelso Drive, etc. etc. depending on what town I was in . . .). The roads were for the most part good, but had little to no shoulder. Traffic was light, though, and most of the drivers polites. I was chased by FOUR dogs at various times - one of them a large and scary Rottweiler . . . that was not so much fun.


It's just over 38 miles from Battle Ground to Kelso, and it took me 3 hours and 10 minutes to cover it, riding as hard as I could and stopping as little as possible (I stopped only to make notes for the cue sheet and to rest on Green Mountain Road). By the time I got to my designated end point, the 3 Rivers Safeway in Kelso, I was so very ready for my PB and banana sammich.

Coming home, I took Cloverdale up to Green Mountain instead of Lane. That was a mistake. The climb was even steeper than coming up the other side, and over two miles longer. At the top, the snow was deep on the ground and the sand was deep on the road. I wasn't able to really open up until I was almost to the bottom. Even so, at that point I still sustained speeds of 38 mph + the entire way down, with a top speed of 45 mph.

I stopped for another snack in LaCenter. I was virtuous and passed up the Girl Scout cookies being sold (I could have eaten an entire box and then later regretted it), and instead had some salty crackers, an orange and some more Gatorade. Back at the Battle Ground Safeway I got some very tasty chocolate soy milk and a Diet Coke, and finished off my salty crackers.

When I got home, Greg had all the ingredients set out for pizza. I quickly assembled it and shortly thereafter sat down to an eclectic but satisfying meal of a baked potato, a baked yam, two slices of pizza and salad. Greg ate the rest of the pizza, but I got his crusts . . .

An Untapped Demographic?

Make your own Obama poster!

Three Days, 228 miles. Not Bad For Mid-February . . .

Just when I was beginning to think I would never be able to take my fenders off the bike, the Presidents' Day weekend not only promised to be remarkably warm, sunny and dry, it followed THROUGH on that promise (unlike any actual PRESIDENT) . . . and so, like any good American, I took full advantage of the unexpected bonus, and rode my increasingly bony a** off.

Saturday, I met some friends down in Newberg to ride another 200 km (124.1 miles, give or take) "permanent" route, so as to get my February ride in for the RUSA R12 award.  We chose to ride the "Three Prairies" permanent route, a relatively flat jaunt that starts and ends in Newberg (and goes back there in the middle of the ride as well!).  My friends Lynne and Sal, who are both also trying for an R12, signed up to ride along with me.  Our friend Andrew also tagged along but because he did not register for the ride in time, he could not get credit toward an R12.  More importantly, because he was not registered, he would not be allowed to help any of us if we encountered mechanical trouble.  We could help HIM, apparently (I told him 'Don't count on it. . . .") but not vice versa.

We arranged to leave Newberg at 8:00 AM - a relatively late start for a 200K, but Sal was driving up from Salem, and he likes to start at "civilized" times.  I didn't mind - it meant we would be starting in daylight.  Always a plus.  I was up at 5:30, out the door by 6:30, but then spent 5 minutes scraping ice of my car.  Hmmm.  Good thing I had both hand and toe warmers packed in my bag.  By mid-day, the temperature had reached 52 degrees, and I could discard the digit warmers.



I arrived in Newberg with plenty of time for a tasty soy cocoa at the Coffee Cottage, our designated meeting/start place.  As we headed out, the temperature was 34 degrees, and there was frost on the ground in places.  The 3 Prairies ride is just that - it loops through French, Red and Howell Prairies, with stops in Dallas and Mt. Angel, in addition with a stop in Newberg in the middle.  In other words, we saw the good people at the Coffee Cottage at 7:30 AM, 1:54 PM, and 7:20 PM.  More importantly, we ate their tasty baked goods at 7:30 AM, 1:54 PM, and 7:20 PM.  The brownie at lunch was particularly delicious (of course, after I've been riding for 70 miles, I find that most food is delicious).

The ride itself is advertised as "amazingly flat."  It nevertheless has about 3000 feet of elevation gain, but it is all in the form of long, steady grades - no rollers or sharp pitches (which, sadly, also means no screaming descents).  Apart from the wine-tasting traffic hell that is the stretch between Newberg and Dayton, the roads were mostly low-traffic and rural (i.e. chip seal).  LOTS of baby animals, mostly lambs.  



At one point we startled a Coopers hawk that had just settled down to a nice lunch  - apparently some large rodent, judging from the limp four-legged form hanging from the hawk's talons as it took off to find a less popular cafe.

Compared to Lynne's and my January 200 km ride, this one was a piece of cake - we reached all the controls well ahead of schedule (so I was not turning into an OCD mess) and we only had to ride in the dark for about an hour.  I was not all that disappointed that we were still riding at sundown, because the sunset was spectacular!



We finished the ride at 7:30.  Lynne's husband had called to tell her that he was cooking her a steak for dinner - for my part, I was looking forward to making the world's largest burrito.  I pretty much just emptied the contents of my refrigerator into a tortilla.  Some black beans, some left over baked tofu, some leftover filling from stuffed mushrooms (mushrooms, onions, garlic, TVP and spices), half an avocado, tomatoes, lettuce, lots of salsa, some plain yogurt  . . . by the time I was done filling it, I couldn't fold the tortilla properly, so I made a tin foil cone to keep it from exploding.


Sunday, it was even sunnier and warmer than Saturday had been.  Lynne rode over to my house, and we rode out to North Portland to meet our friend Beth for a short ride out to Smith & Bybee Lakes and then back to North Portland through St. Johns.  This was most definitely a more leisurely ride - neither Lynne nor I felt like pushing it much after Saturday's adventure, and I had a 70+ mile ride planned for Monday . . . so we just meandered our way out along the Columbia Slough past Portland Meadows, PIR and the golf course to the lakes and on past on the Marine Drive bike path. At the end of the bike path we decided to skip riding into Kelly Point Park and just waved at it as we rode on past on our way to St. John's and the very fine Anna Bananas for some very tasty cheese and bread and,  of course, bananas!  I dropped Lynne off at a MAX stop (she didn't feel like riding up and over Sylvan again - I can't blame her) and I headed home to spend some quality time at the garden center with Greg.  We needed to re-pot the two dwarf blueberries that live on our front porch before the terra cotta pots they had been in completely disintegrated.  Since I can never leave the nursery without several enormous bags of compost, we also spent some quality time amending soil.  By the time we were done, I was definitely ready for dinner - the first outdoor grilling of the year - piles of grilled vegetables on arugula and grilled lavash pizzas with green olives, fennel and dill . . . mmmmm

For Monday, I had set myself the task of "pre-riding" part of a route my friend Andrew had put together for us to use in a 12-hr "Dart" scheduled for March 22.  We will start from Portland and end in Centralia, Washington, with stops in Vancouver, Battle Ground, Kelso and Winlock. I planned to check out the section from Portland to Battle Ground, because neither Andre nor I knew much about the roads that were in his map (he was drawing on other folks' knowledge in planning).  I spent a few hours on Sunday night checking the cue sheet against gmaps, and finding that there were some very confusing parts to the directions.  Mainly, all the streets seemed to have different names!  Anyway, I finally figured it out (at least I hoped I had).  By my calculations, the "pre-ride" would be about 40 miles, and then to get home would be another 30 or so, so I planned to leave as soon as it was light out.

As it was, I didn't make it out the door until about 7:45.  By then, it was already noticeably warmer than it had been either Saturday or Sunday.  But it was still cold enough that I needed leg warmers, thermal gloves and a jacket over my long-sleeved jersey.  I threw some digit warmers into my bag, just in case . . .

Once I crossed over the Columbia River and into downtown Vancouver, it was noticeably chillier - there was frost on the ground and a cold wind.  A hot cocoa helped me cope with that, though, and I never did need to pull out the chemical warmers.  The route from Vancouver to Battle Ground was decidedly urban, but tolerable.  I wouldn't want to ride some of those streets on a regular work day, though.  I am guessing that they are pretty busy.  On a holiday, however, they were not so bad.

All my map reading Sunday night helped me stay on track except for one section.  Vancouver is one of those weird cities that has number streets AND numbered avenues, and they intersect each other in odd ways, so that if you have a number in mind but aren't sure if it is, for example "50th Street" or "50th Avenue," you can end up lost.  Even if you DO have that part straight, you can still get lost because every once in a while the street numbers are out of sequence.  Suffice it to say, I now know EXACTLY where to turn off St. John's Road to get to Salmon Creek.

Battle Ground is ugly.  But once you get out of Battle Ground and head toward LaCenter, it gets downright pretty.  It also gets hilly.  And one street goes through 6 name changes.  Grr.  Again, however, the map reading [aid off, and I was able to figure out where to go.  I reached LaCenter at lunch time, and thoroughly enjoyed my peanut butter and Ricemallow creme sammich. I also enjoyed pulling off the leg warmers and jacket for the first time this season.  My knees didn't know what hit them.

Andrew's cue sheet would not help me get home from LaCenter, and I didn't want to just retrace what I had just done.  Fortunately, I found a route on bikely.com that included the stretch from downtown LaCenter to downtown Vancouver (once downtown in the 'Couve, I could get home on my own).  The bikely route was GREAT.  It took me through some interesting rural parts of LaCenter and Ridgefield, and then through some Vancouver neighborhoods before dumping me out into downtown.  Riding through the neighborhoods was interesting - there were some hidden bike pass-throughs to get from one block to the next. One "enterprising" jerk had transformed one of the bike pass-throughs into a second driveway, however.



The only part of the route that I did not like was where I had to ride on Hwy 99 for a while.  That sucked.  The road surface was bad, the bike lanes were full of tire-chewing debris, and the traffic was very heavy.  Fortunately, that was only for about a mile, and then I peeled off onto the quieter neighborhoods just northwest of downtown.  The best part of the route was climbing to the top of the "ridge" in Ridgefield, and then blasting straight downhill for what seemed like ages.  The climb itself wasn't so bad, because the road I was on did it in stair-steps.  Once I got to the top and turned around to see where I had come from, I was impressed by how high up I was.

Once I crossed back over the river to Oregon, I took my standard route home from Marine Drive.  By the time I got to Ladd's Addition, my odometer showed 74.6 miles, so I rode arounf Ladd Circle a few times to ensure that it would read 75 by the time I got home.  In the end, I could have left off one of those circuits, because the final readout in my back yard was 75.2.

Like I said, not bad for mid-February.

An Open Letter to the Good People at Showers Pass

This is me:


These are my friends, Lynne and Jason:


This is my friend, Rickey:


We ride.

A lot.

Thousands of miles a year.

And we do it in Oregon, which means that many of those miles are in the rain.

Consequently, we have a vested interest (pun intended) in seeking out the most effective cycling rain gear.

As you can see, we have all concluded that the Showers Pass Elite jacket is the best item on the market, and have further concluded that no one who rides in the Pacific Northwest should be without one.

Which brings me to my dilemma.

This is TRFKAF.


TRFKAF is my riding buddy. Where I go, he goes. He's not the greatest stoker, but he keeps me company. Sadly, TRFKAF does not have a rain jacket, so he gets very wet and cold. He would love to have a Showers Pass jacket of his very own, but has been unable to find one in a size extra-extra-extra-extra-small.

So, dear Showers Pass people, this is our query - what are the chances of you coming up with a line of rain gear for rider's mascots? Inquiring rabbits want to know.

Because until then, it's the ignominy of the New York Times bag . . .

One Down, Eleven To Go

One of my goals for 2008 is to complete a randonneuring R-12. In order to do so, I must ride one (at least) brevet or permanent of at least 200 kilometers per month for 12 consecutive months. I was on my way to an R12 in 2007 until I blew out my left hamstring and calf, which kept me off the bike for a couple of months. But by last week I felt healed and strong enough to start the process all over again, so I recruited Lynne (never TOO difficult) and we signed up to do the Scio Covered Bridges permanent. 

Two other Oregon Randonneurs, Bill Alsup and Marcello Napolitano, decided to join us and we agreed that we would leave the start in Wilsonville, Oregon at 6:30 AM on January 19.

At the beginning of the week, the weather forecast wasn't too bad; for Oregon in mid-January, that is. Partly cloudy, mid-40s. Perfectly reasonable winter riding weather. As the week progressed, the forecast deteriorated. By Thursday, the forecast was for showers, with temperatures in the upper 30s. Still reasonable, as far as I was concerned, assuming I had the proper gear. Hmm. Gear. One never really has enough gear, does one? As I pondered the state of my winter apparel, I decided that a new pair of unpadded thermal tights might be a good thing to have. I decided to call Team Estrogen and chat with one of their experts. Mind you, this was at 11:00 AM on Thursday morning and I would need the tights by Saturday at 5:30 AM, which was when I would be leaving my house for the ride . . . but TE is in Hillsboro, Oregon and in the past everything I have ordered from them has arrived at my house the next day. I was counting on that to hold true this time. As it turns out, so was Lynne. While I was busy ordering tights, she was ordering a new long-sleeve wool zip-T. Anyway, I decided to get the Craft "Storm" tights, and sure enough they were waiting for me on the porch when I got home from work on Friday.

I spent most of Friday evening making sure I had everything I needed. I knew we would be in the dark for at least an hour in the morning and possibly another 2 hours in the evening (I was estimating it would take us about 11 hours to complete the route). The bike I am currently riding isn't really designed for distance riding, and so everything was just a wee bit jury-rigged. The handlebar bag that I use for longer rides prevents me from putting headlights on my bars, so I strapped the two lights that I use the most to the front fork with pump straps, instead. One of the lights, an astonishingly bright DiNotte, has a rechargeable battery pack, which also had to be strapped to the front fork and in a way that it did not interfere with the signal for my wireless computer. It also involved working around the straps for my temporary fenders, but with a little patience I was able to make it work. Another reason that I will I be glad when the new rando-specific bike is done . . .

The next task was to make sure the bike bags were packed. In the seat bag I have bike tools, spare tubes, patch kits, first aid kit, baby wipes, extra batteries, extra lights, and a lock. In front I carried my camera, my keys, my food and some more baby wipes.

Once the bike was kitted out, I needed to make sure I was kitted out. Thermal sports bra? Check. Wool zip-T? Check. Wool Jersey? Check. Shorts with long distance chamois? Check. Thermal tights? Check. Wool socks? Check. Extra wool socks? Check. Gloves? Check. Extra gloves? Check. S'Mittens? Check. Wool beanie? Check. Reflective vest and leg bands? Check.
Reflective helmet with map-reading light? Check. Winter cycling boots and shoe covers? Check. Showers Pass rain jacket? Check.

Time for bed.

Up at 4:30 for a hearty breakfast of peanut butter and banana on a pumpernickel bagel, and out the door at 5:30 for the half hour drive to the start. I hate driving to the start of rides, but riding to and from the start would have added another 50 miles and 4 or so hours to the day, and at this time of year I wasn't quite ready for that!

Lynne was already at the official "start" (Wilsonville City Hall) when I arrived. It took me a while to unload the bike and make sure everything was in place. I spent another 10 minutes or so fighting with my new shoe covers and new riding boots. The boots have a thick lugged sole, and it is difficult to get a cover around it - but then I realized (far later than I should have realized) that because the shoe cover had an open bottom, I could slip the cover over my foot and up my calf before I put the boot on, and then pull the cover down over the top of the boot. Duh.

By this time it was 6:30, and we had not seen either Bill or Marcello. We figured that they, having a little more sense then we did, had decided to skip the ride. We saddled up and headed for the nearest Starbucks, in order to get something hot to drink and a time-stamped receipt. While we there, Bill showed up and then we were 3.

The beginning of the ride was less than fun - we had to go onto Interstate 5 to cross the Willamette River. 1.1 miles of debris-filled freeway shoulder in the dark is not my idea of a good time. It's not my idea of a good time in the light, either, but at least then I had a better view of the debris. Fortunately, we all had good lights, especially Lynne.

Once we were off the freeway, we headed east toward Canby and then turned south toward the first control in Scio - 50 miles away. At this point it was dark, and it was cold (somewhere around 32 degrees), but at least it wasn't raining. And I was so well-covered that, except for my toes, nose and cheeks, I was warm as toast. Lynne was TOO warm - she had to stop and remove one layer.

Those first 50 miles were, um, miserable. We were climbing steadily (I am questioning the route description, which claims a total elevation gain of only 3000 feet), and into a headwind. Our average speed was a sluggish 11.4 mph, and three hours into the ride I began to panic that we would not make any of the controls in time. Based on the time we left Wilsonville, we had to reach Scio by 11:51. Outside of Scio is a set of rollers that are nothing less than evil. Extremely steep, but with too much room at the base to allow you to use any of the momentum to help you up the next slope. I was ahead of Bill and Lynne and waited for them at the top of the first roller. When they pulled up, they asked if I had seen the cyclist ahead of us. I hadn't - I guess I had my head down as I struggled up the hill. The next roller was even worse. Just before the top, it pitched just a little too much for me, and I had to get off my bike and push it the last few yards. I can't think of the last time I had to walk my bike up a hill.

We reached Scio with literally no time to spare. My receipt from the market showed 11:51. As I rode up to the market, who should I see but Marcello. He had been at City Hall at 6:30, but must have been at the other side of the parking lot. He figured we weren't coming, and so he set off on his own. He had been the rider ahead of us on the rollers, and he admitted that he. too, had walked on the last one. After a short rest, we all four left Scio together. Marcello was faster than we were, however, and he quickly left us behind. It was still cold - 33 degrees- and it started to rain. Well, drizzle. The new tights were performing admirably, though, and I never felt wet.

The next timed control was in Salem. We had to get there by 3:55. The road had flattened out a bit, and we had turned out of the wind, but we again ended up getting into town with no time to spare. At this point I was very concerned that we would not make the cut-off time at the end in Wilsonville. It was still drizzling and it was getting dark - two things that would slow our already-slow pace. Add to that the difficulty in just getting the heck OUT of Salem. It is not a particularly bike-friendly city, and we had to detour around construction at one point. But we finally got to the edge of town and got our speed back up.

By this time it was very dark. Fortunately, the roads on this part of the ride were very familiar, because they are all in one ride or another that I do on a regular basis. I am not saying I can ride them with my eyes closed, but I can ride them with very little illumination . . . the rain (drizzle) finally stopped, and it seemed a little warmer, which I think helped us to pick up our pace. By my calculations, we had until 8:04 PM to reach Wilsonville (13 hours and 24 minutes after we started) and I was alternating between checking my watch and checking our mileage. We were definitely making better time and barring no mechanical issues it looked like we'd finish in time. I stopped panicking.

We had to go back on the freeway bridge to cross the river. The shoulder on this side was even worse than on the southbound side. I rode as quickly as I could to get the heck off, and waited for Bill and Lynne to catch up before heading back to the Starbucks from which we had begun the ride 12 hours and 58 minutes earlier.



All told, it was a tough ride. But on the plus side, most of the roads were lovely, and there were all sorts of cute baby animals at the various farms we passed. I was surprised to see so many lambs so early in the year, but Lynne explained that sheep are in season no matter what the season, and so lambing can take place year-round if the farmers let it. In addition to sheep, we saw many horse (some wearing raincoats), some alpaca, some pygmy goats, and one lonely emu. I'll try it again in the summer, perhaps . .

Total ride time: 12 hours 58 minutes
Saddle time: 10 hours 9 minutes 6 seconds
Distance: 127.5 miles
Avg. Speed: 12.5 mph
Calories burned: 6041

Beefeaters, Big Ben, and a Bulldog.

Meet the newest addition to my stable - a single-speed Specialized Langster "London." It is a truly ridiculous bike, from the red-rimmed wheels to the white-painted chain, but I think it will be pretty fun to ride. It has a flip-flop rear hub, so I can run it as either a fixed-gear or freewheel, depending on how much work I feel like doing.

A local newspaper held an eBay auction to benefit a local charity called Sisters of the Road, which provides services to Portland's homeless population. The Langster was one of the auction items, and because I had been contemplating getting a fixie for lunchtime rides in flat, flat Salem, I decided to bid on it.

I did not bid very high, because I don't really NEED another bike, but I still managed to win the auction. I had the option of paying a little more than my bid to get the "London" ediiton, and it made me laugh so much when I saw it that I just had to go for it.

Getting Better All the Time

This weekend I rode both Saturday and Sunday, about 35 miles each day. Still no long climbs, yet, but I am definitely getting back into gear. Literally.

Wastelands and Wetlands

Today Lynne came over to my side of the river for a ride. Sort of like the country mouse cyclist comes to the big city, she said, after I nearly gave her a heart attack with an abrupt turn through a bicycle pass-through she didn't realize existed . . .

Anyway, we got a late start because we wanted to let the temps rise high enough so that black ice wouldn't be a problem. Little did we realize that the temps weren't likely to rise much at all. . . Right when Lynne was about to leave her house for mine, it started snowing.



I called her:

"Um, Lynne - it's snowing at my house."

"Yeah, it's snowing at my house, too!"

"I still want to ride."

"I still want to ride, too!"

45 minutes later, my doorbell rang, and there she was, in one of her second-warmest jerseys. A Hanukkah present, I believe. Pink, of course.

And we were off.

I am still not ready to ride up "real" hills, so I chose another of the flattest routes I could find. This one wound through North Portland to a multi-use path called The Peninsula Crossing Trail.



It links Willamette and Columbia Boulevards, and then continues on past Columbia Boulevard to some really interesting wetlands, and finally to the Smith & Bybee Lakes wetlands.



From there, we rode along Marine Drive to Kelly Point Park, the westernmost part of the City of Portland, which is at the confluence of the Willamette and Columbia Rivers.





From Kelly Point Park, we rode through an industrial wasteland characterized by freight shipping terminals, back through North Portland and then through the Alameda district (Stately Mansions "R" Us) to Hollywood.

We stopped for hot cocoa and grilled cheese at the Daily Market,



and then we went searching for the Hollywood Max stop so Lynne could get back over the hill to home. It turned out to be all of about 6 blocks from the cafe. By this time it had started sprinkling again, so it was a good time to end the ride and head home!

After a hot bath and a hot cup of tea, I was thawed out enough to make dinner - Roasted Butternut Squash Soup from the Vegan With A Vengeance Cookbook, and whole wheat "no knead" bread.



Mmmmmm.

Can't Hardly Wait!

There's a rumour going round that a certain frame is next in line for powder-coating and a certain kandy-kolored heliotrope streamline baby may be coming home next week . . . . .

On the (Slow) Road to Recovery

I'm baaaaaaaaaack.

Well, sort of.

Let's put it this way - by the time I take delivery of the Heliotrope Wonder, I will be ready to ride it. I may not be ready to ride it more than 30 miles, and those would have to be flat, but at least I won't be forced to sit and stare at it with unrequited longing.

Anyway, today I went out for my first REAL bike ride in 5 weeks. I had done 30 minutes on a stationary bike on Thursday with no ill effect, and so figured I was ready to try something short and flat. I considered going out to Hillsboro for the Velo ride, but the forecast was for snow above 500 feet and I didn't feel like driving my car over the SW hills with all the Portland numbskulls who don't know how to drive in snow. Yes, my years of living in Illinois and Vermont DO make me feel a tad bit superior in that arena, thank you very much . . . .

Plus, I know myself too well - if I rode with a group I would kill myself to keep up, even if my leg were screaming at me to stop. So I decided to take a solo ride on the flattest course I know, the
Springwater Corridor, a local Rails to Trails project. My goal was to go to Gresham and then turn around and come back, but I stopped at Paesano Park, or whatever it's called (where the Barlow Century starts) because it was starting to snow and I was getting a headache from bouncing on the chipseal (my favorite part of the Springwater is when it crosses the city line into Gresham and the pavement turns to nice, smooth asphalt . . .). On the way home, the snow started falling fairly heavily, but the ground was far too warm for it to stick. It didn't snow for long, but it sure was pretty while it did - nice, big fluffy flakes.

I decided not to go all the way home on the trail - out and back rides are SO boring - and so turned off about halfway back and took city streets the rest of the way home - it snowed again briefly, but there was very little traffic, so I was not worried. What WAS worrying me was that my hands had suddenly gone completely stiff and numb. I have Raynaud's and cold weather does a number on the circulation to my extremities, and I have yet to find the perfect glove - I had on my warmest, Descente Wombats, but they were not doing the trick. Braking and shifting suddenly became a much more difficult proposition . . .and there was one pretty steep downhill on the way back. Yes, I managed to pick a route with no climbing, yet still got to go downhill fast - my kind of ride!

Checked my stats when I got home - I was out for just under 2 hours and rode 27 miles. Kind of slow, but I expected that - the chipseal certainly didn't help my pace. My leg felt okay. I made sure to stretch well once I got back, and it still feels okay - the torn calf muscle is sore, but not extremely so, and the hamstring seems fine. Of course, the pain in my hands when the blood finally started flowing back into my fingers may have masked any pain in the leg!

Anticipation, Antici-pay-yay-tion . . . . .

Front Rack
Originally uploaded by sweetpeabicycles

Bit by bit, it's all starting to come together

The Waiting Is The Hardest Part . . . .

After more than 35 years of riding "off-the-rack" bikes, I finally decided it was time to plunk down some of my hard-earned cash for a bike built specifically for me and my riding needs. But it couldn't be just any bike - I wanted something very special. Something I could potentially take to Paris in 2001 for PBP (hey, a girl can dream). I had heard about a woman in town that made bikes just for women - so this past February, I looked her up . . . .

Meet Natalie Ramsland. . . .



Natalie (and her hubby Austin) are Sweetpea Bicycles. From the moment I met Natalie, I knew I had found my builder - and it was time to order a bike . . . .

Natalie worked with a local bike fitter to get all the necessary measurements, and came up with some drawings . . . .




Then I chose components: Brooks saddle (of course), rear rack with built in bottle opener, generator hub with front rack-mounted dual headlights, gearing that can climb telephone poles, couplers so I could take it apart for that trip to Paris (or Connecticut) - the usual stuff . . . .

Now all I have to do was wait. I am not good at waiting.

Volunteering Vor the Verboort

[Click on any photo to go to my Flickr page]

Today was the annual Oregon Randonneurs Verboort Sausage Populaire. Bill Alsup and I had volunteered to staff the first control at Longbottom and then to set up the final control at the Sausage & Kraut fest and hold that fort until Susan could take over. My plan had been to ride out to Longbottom and then over to Verboort and then home, but a false step in aerobics class nixed that plan. Ah well.



Instead, I started the day by driving out to the Grand Lodge in Forest Grove to meet the other volunteers for breakfast and discuss our plans. In addition to me and Bill, volunteers included our RBA, Susan France, my friend Andrew Black, and Barb Oliver, whose husband, Ray, would be riding. Andrew was helping with registration at the start and then staffing the Snooseville control with Susan. Barb was in charge of bulk sausage buys. Last year some riders got to the end too late to get sausage, so this year we had a designated buyer.



The weather forecast was promising, and the ride had been talked up on a few listservs, so we had a pretty large group -- many of whom had never done a brevet before. Lots of folks on recumbents and tandems, lots of very nice custom touring bikes.





Susan took special care to make sure everyone heard the final instructions.



The ride started off cold. Waiting around for the start was inducing some serious shivers in folks dressed to ride. Lynne had brought her very cool insulated bottle, in which she had hot Gatorade "tea." It fits in a water bottle cage and has a pop-top like a regular cycling water bottle. I am jealous.



After 100km of riding, and a lot of bright sunshine, however, most riders were down to the bare essentials.



The scene in Verboort was, well, a scene. If I had been there to check in riders, I would have stayed very far away - lots of very big people driving very big trucks in search of very big sausages.



I arrived in Verboort at about 11:00 - I expected the first riders (who I assumed would be Michael W., Del and Sam) to arrive around noon. I spent the next half hour looking for a place to park that wouldn't require me to navigate a rutted dirt field on my crutches while trying to carry the control sign. I wanted to be near the dedicated bicycle parking, so I asked every festival worker I saw where that parking was. NO ONE KNEW! It was advertised on their website, yet two different workers asked if I had called ahead to make special arrangements. AAARGH! I finally gave up, and with the help of my friends Richard and Nance who rode up at about 11:30, I simply staked out a place by the road. About 15 minutes later, I spied something hidden behind a wall of blue rooms that looked like it MIGHT be a bike corral. I hobbled over to confirm, and then asked a random stranger to help me move the sign to better indicate the location. As it ended up, the blue rooms so concealed the control that we had to stand out by the road to direct riders in. Bill had ridden up shortly after I discovered the bike parking and he and I took turns waving people in. Eventually, he took over control duties and I stood lookout. Susan arrived sometime around 2:00 or 2:30, and it was finally time for me to drag myself home.

It wasn't nearly as much fun as riding (nothing ever is), but it was fun.