The NOAA forecast for Saturday called for 20% probability of precipitation and 40% cloud cover. So I reinstalled the full coverage Honjo fenders against the possibility of sprinkles over the weekend. I felt sheepish with this choice as it was hot in Portland. I have been told that your experience is dictated by what you expect. Saturday morning was warm at the campsite. I decided to put an extra turtle neck into my bag, but went with the two layers of gloves and forgot the Gortex ski gloves I loaned to Ellen. I felt justified with my choice, especially after the brief cold and damp weather report around the roaring campfire meeting last night.
Eight intrepid Portland Velo riders set off from the campground at Diamond Lake, 5200 feet above sea level, for the Crater Lake Rim Ride. Chatting with Dean and David, the groupo compacto looked good; we knew how to ride together in a nice double pace line. Later, Jen rode off the front. David went after her, then Cindy, Mary and the others left Dean and I riding tempo together. I felt much stronger than a year ago, the larger chain rings evidence of re-found fitness and strength from a year of continual longer rides, tours and brevets.
Carlo and Michelle shouted encouragement from their car as we turned onto the North entrance road. Five bucks per person to enter the park! Reminds me of Wisconsin’s pervasive user fees! Profound beauty has its price. The park service employee at the gate said it was forecast 32 degrees at the rim. Up we go, then down onto the pumice plain barren of vegetation. Then up and up the steady effort warming me considerably, I removed the layers, one by one, until I was topless. The passengers snuggled up in their cars stared out as the infernal combustion sped them past. Ellen and I were alone, the others’ tempo too high this early in the early ride. I can wait for hard efforts. Ellen always comes alive after twenty miles, then watch out for higher tempo. We rode to high elevation in the clouds, it was like those Tour de France stages where the cameras fail to pierce the fog and mist as riders continue through the forests and rock, up and down the narrow wet roads.
Ellen rode on into the steeper sections of the climb, as I disrobed because I continued to overheat in 32 degrees. The tail wind was strong, and no convective cooling was available to me, or anyone. I met Mary at the Rim Drive intersection; she was cold in the damp summer weight jersey and shorts. I was cool dressed in shorts and socks, the remainder of my outfit draped over the bars and Berthoud bag, unnecessary until now. It reminded me of spring skiing at Old Man Pass, only shorts and ski boots!
I met Dean and Barbara at the junction lot. He was cold, and rode on as I chatted, waiting for Ellen. She was cold after the climb, damp with perspiration I am sure. So I asked Barb if we could sit in the car with her for a bit. We chatted for a while. Ellen decided to sit out for a few miles, and off they drove, warm.
I was shivering while climbing with the North wind blowing from the left. I passed a recumbent rider, said hi and continued. As I warmed up a bit, I braved the descent without the jacket. Oops, need to stop and put it on quick, soon the recumbent from Mid Valley Bicycle Club swept past. Then the muffin and juice stop appeared on the right overlooking Wizard Island. I must stop and acquire calories, and chat a bit. Only a half of blueberry muffin, and two cheese bagels for me, should have taken more, and back onto the road. The volunteers were very cold in the wind! Brave souls in cotton sweatshirts.
Up and down, up and down, the rim views from Pumice, Point, Palisades Point and Wineglass tempted me on the right. The wind from the left kept driving me on. Snow began to fall, the road was damp, then wet as was my green white and red Italian jersey that Jack Newlevant had presented me only last week. The recumbent passed me, then a Crater Lake Trolley. Next a white Ford crew cab full of folks, tooted his horn. The recumbent followed him into the overlook, and the bike leaped into the bed. I was on the long climb towards the Cloud Cap turn off, when two PV riders from the pace line descended towards me. We chatted agreeing that the conditions were rapidly deteriorating toward atrocious. I turned to follow them toward camp. The conditions were deteriorating that was for sure. But, I hesitated, and swung the bike around uphill again into the increasing snow fall.
On the left were sheriff’s’ and Park Service Search and Rescue vehicles. Were they on a training exercise or the real thing? What was all that white scum on the roads, whipped up by the tires in the wet? Back at camp, one said pollen, another said oil. Was it slippery? Not under my 30mm tires.
I had done this before. In Milwaukee I blasted down the icy alley behind Dad’s house on my 20 inch. Later I delivered papers all winter, first on my heavyweight balloon Rollfast, then the black Raleigh Sport 3 speed. My life is full of winter riding experiences. Up and up, the snow accumulating on the soft Moreno wool red, white and green sleeves. I shook my arms to get it off, on went the jacket, off went the jacket, on, off, then I reached the top where I happily turned towards Cloud Cap, last year in the heat. Now sheltered from blowing snow in the wind shadow of a stunted pine, I gladly put on that extra layer from my bag, my Cross Crusade hat, and both pair of wool gloves. Last was the one plastic bagel bag onto the right hand, brake hand, for the long descent to the lunch stop. I kept my left hand in the front bag, nice and toasty. Looking down at 40 mph, my legs were soaked, their only protection were wet knee warmers and shorts, not a condition for surviving long at this rate of heat loss. I need more plastic.
At the stop, the remaining PV pace line riders were in cars on the way to hot chocolate at the Crater Lake Lodge. “Do you have any plastic bags” I asked? Negative although David might have one as he held a front wheel ready for the car top rack. I went to the shelter where the volunteers were making custom sandwiches. A few bread bags, and some grape bags. I stuffed them into my knee warmers and the PV folks whistled at my butt sticking out from bending over. Then another set of bags into the booties and knee warmers for another layer on my shins. The plastic covered only the front of the legs, but provided enough protection to keep the water off and wind out a bit, but not enough to get hot on the climbs to come. Three sandwiches and some Oreos went into the bag, and a handful of nuts in the mouth. I was on the road with the admonishment to be safe out there from an experienced volunteer.
I started to warm up a bit as the road tilted up again, several miles of effort later the clothes came off, layer by layer. Up and then down, clothes back on layer by layer, the plastic bags went on the hands last while the bags on my legs stayed in place and kept hypothermia at bay. The ride became almost enjoyable, as I was not overheating or over cooling, “heat retention management,” that is what I called it. Passing lots of riders now, in their yellow rain gear and black rain pants. “Nice Fenders,” came out as I rode by. The watermelon rest stop went past in a blur, not today thanks.
I finally completed the climb to the Rim Village. After that busy road, the quiet was appreciated. I took my handlebar bag inside and looked for my fellow PV riders, no PV. However, I recognized a Cross Crusade hat covering the head of a happy volunteer, and I was given the bigger of two croissants. I went looking upstairs, no PV there. I chatted briefly with some Salem Bicycle Club folks that I had spoken with Friday night. They had large cups of hot chocolate and appeared to be inside for the duration. So rather than cool off, I went to the rest room. Back onto the bike I prepared for the exposed northbound leg, into the blustery wind, uphill, up the mountain, to,8,000 feet elevation, and the heaviest snow showers of the day with the fog enclosing frequently. The Rim Drive scoots up and down, where last summer Ellen and I dawdled along taking in the view of clear air and sunshine. No dawdling today. Just up and down, on with clothes, off with clothes, as body temperature dictated. At least I was not too hot this year.
I summited that final grinding climb, and took in the inexpansive view! Fog and blowing snow showers. Visibility was about 100 feet as I left two yellow clad smiling riders, one on a Trek Y bike, and started down. FUN, at least this was fun for me. One Mercedes M-Class Wagon was going less than 10 mph, so that delayed me a bit, but after I passed, it was clear road, wing blown snow, the fog lifting, cold, and cold cold fifteen miles back to the pumice desert. There my legs were not cooperating with the effort required by the rollers leading to the North exit. I saw Dean’s car returning up the road, maybe there were more riders on the rim or at the lodge.
Past the junction of with highway 138, a trio of Harley riders stopped, laughing at the conditions as I rolled past. Soon Diamond Lake appeared around a corner, way down below, and soon I was turning off the road onto the bike path into camp.
David, Cindy, Jen and Mary were all there. They congratulated me on the accomplishment. Three Portland Velo riders completed the circumnavigation of Crater Lake Rim Drive, Carlo and Michelle, and Mike from Bend. Ellen and Linda Jellison were waiting for Dean at the lodge.
This has been an unusual summer. Last Friday, I was too hot climbing Surveyor’s Ridge during a 200km brevet. Today, well, I have seen Cindy hyper-thermic or hypo-thermic this summer. Where are those tasty “desert” rides? You know, those rides anyone can enjoy, like strawberries and cream?
I love these conditions. Later Saturday evening when I described them to our friends Beckie and David in Ashland, they nodded knowingly: Iowa and Massachusetts breed toughness. David related his winter camping in New Hampshire at 30 degrees below zero, and feeling warm. All the town’s residents hunkered down by the fireplace while he and a few friends enjoyed the out of doors. One of those friends would go on to summit Everest as leader of his party. Kindred spirits. I always enjoyed the roar of surf in a winter storm crashing over the breakwater or onto the foot of the cliff in White Fish Bay, while Milwaukee was quiet, all the residents inside where it was warm and toasty.
I expected to finish the ride, rain or shine, snow ore brine, although I did waver when given the choice. Doug Renee dubbed me the club’s “Foul Weather Specialist years ago. Preparation and Slavic endurance enabled me to enjoy the pounding of sleet on my cheeks and lips, my lips are still sore. This was a hard ride for a hard rider. The famous Russian Andre Tchmil, winner of the wet and muddy 1994 Paris Roubaix would understand. Les Sylphides Ballet is playing as I write this, warm and dry at my desk, fondly remembering the escapade of winter in August.
Monday, August 30, 2010
Crater Lake August 28, 2010
Friday, June 18, 2010
Preparation for Paris Brest Paris 2011
Objective: Finish the Oregon Blue Mountains 1000 km brevet, 75 hour time limit, no matter how long it takes!
Ride Information:
Day 1: The Dalles to North Powder, 400kilometers, 4053 meters climbing
Day 2: North Powder to Mitchell, 350 kilometers, 3322 meters climbing
Day 3: Mitchell to The Dalles, 250 kilometers, 3749 meters climbing
Plan: Start slowly finding my rhythm, and a group I could work with on the long rolling drag out Highway 14 to the Columbia crossing at Umatilla. Climb to Athena and Tollgate at my own tempo. Continue from there.
Day 1 - 400 kilometers and 13,300 ft elevation gain
Morning came too early. I finally slept for a few hours, up at 5:45 to greet the day. Ian Shopland, Alan Woods, Philippe Andre, Jim Hinkley and the remaining 25 starters were all ready at 07:00 when John Kramer finished the announcements and sent us off. Ian rang his bell for the final lap! I called Ellen as we rolled along into The Dalles. Del Scharfenberg said that I looked more fit than I had in years, thanks Del. Crossing The Dalles Bridge, I was dropped initially, but maintained a steady gap to the leaders who paused at the Highway 14 junction. Philippe and Alan were also there. The highway rolls up and down until Biggs, the pace was too fast for me so I settled in with the second group of about 6. Philippe and Alan joined in as well. This group went well until the long descent after highway 97 where two groups formed. I should have waited for the second group, but continued with Alan, Philippe and Greg from Iowa. The pace was higher than plan, and I worked very hard to stay, keeping my pulls short. However, I seemed to be positioned behind Greg on his aero bars often, with little shelter when he was in front driving the pace. I got some rest with Philippe pulling, but not enough. When the wind cycled around to the Northeast, I was toasted. Fortunately, the pace slowed somewhat as temperatures soared, and we finally entered the bike path on I-82 to cross the Columbia River again. The Umatilla Tesoro control stop was just ahead.
The Control went fast, a Subway sandwich for me as I had eaten all my road sandwiches due to missing most of breakfast because of the pre-ride jitters. The air-conditioned store lured me to stay and converse with some Americorp group kids from Sacramento. The second randonneur group rolled in and was soon ready to continue. Departing the store, Alan rolled in with knee pain. Bummers, too early for that! Our route continued east towards Hat Rock State Park, flat, easy double pace line tempo, I talked with John from Yakima for a while. Nice recovery time! The tempo increased with the turn onto Cold Spring road and the climbing began. I punctured about 2 miles up the climb, alone in the north wind fixing a rear tire. Just as I finished, Hugh Kimbal from Seattle rode up, so we continued on together. It was good to have company in the wind. We chatted and climbed as the temperature went up into the 90’s. Happily I had installed a third water bottle cage anticipating this section!
I was almost finished with two bottles and getting hotter when the roving support truck appeared most unexpectedly, I had no knowledge of this ride perk! Paul, Dr. Codfish from Seattle International Randonneurs (SIR), was happy to fill us with Coke, V-8 and ice water! Saved! I heard later that Ian ran out of water on this section. It is hard to recover from bad situations on a long timed ride like this! Hugh tired out and stopped, so I continued into Athena for water and potato chips in preparation for the Mt. Weston climb. This entrée to the Blue Mountains is long, steep at the start and finish, with rolley polley plateau in the middle. I reached the summit just as sunset was upon me. The ride up was magnificent, the view beyond words, and the temperatures falling steadily. The control workers were ready with hot soup, sandwiches, pie, and bon homme, just what I needed as I bundled up for the long gradual descent past Spout Springs ski area to Elgin.
The Grand Rhonde valley was asleep on this Saturday night as I rolled through hoping to catch up with Rick Blacker of SIR. The only traffic was between the Flying J control and Union was the late night bar crowd. Then in Union a Honda Car full of kids whipped up, splattered me with what seemed to be ice cubes, and sped off. Shortly I came upon the information control. As I completed this chore, the sheriff sped around the corner. I though about waving him down, but chose not to. Why bother myself with small town problems. As I left Union, the horn of a train split the night calm. I was climbing toward North Powder and a bed. Could I beat the train to the crossing? Again the horn sounded, this time above me? The railroad grade was gently rising as I followed the creek bed below. I did not cross those tracks for many kilometers, the train far ahead by then.
I rolled into the North Powder control. There was no electrical power in the town. John Kramer and his SIR volunteers had the situation all in hand though. I was fed, showered and in bed before 30 minutes elapsed, sound asleep when 3 others came in afterwards.
Day 2 - 350 kilometers and 10,900 ft elevation gain
My 6:30 wake up came all too early at 5:55! I was up, fed, and on the bike by 6:45, riding with Rick. We had a glorious morning ride to Baker. The North Powder River valley was resplendent, the snow on the Elkhorn Mountains reflecting the early sun. Baker was full of cyclists, the motor variety, and the ride out of town is filled with the throaty Harley Hogs of my Milwaukee roots swarming past in packs, some waving back to me. I was feeling great as we climbed along the Powder River towards Sumter. Highway 7 turned west and I started climbing the first of three “Cardiac Climbs.” Rick passed me shortly and then disappeared. I was going slower and slower, my intestinal tract suddenly not good. I turned off onto a gravel road into the sparse Ponderosa Pines. I got off the bike and was major sick with diarrhea. Fortunately I was prepared with the necessaries to clean up afterward. Enough on that topic.
Back on the road an hour later, I was moving real slow, weak, but moving forward. I was out of water though, when John Kramer drove past, stopped and filled me up again. I could not eat, did not want to eat, so I just kept riding over the climb towards the next control at Austin House. I stopped at a spring to fill the bottles again, and douse my cycling cap and kerchief to increase evaporative cooling. At Austin House, a touring group from Sacramento was in the parking lot as were Rick and Karel from Missoula. I cleaned up and rode out with them towards the climb before Prairie City. Of course I was dropped early. I could not eat yet, so my energy was really low. But I caught first Rick, then Karel on the long fast descent into the John Day River valley, and we regrouped at the park in Prairie City where Hugh caught us.
I was very concerned about the upcoming ascent of the Strawberry Mountains and the time limit at Parrish Cabin Campground control. I rode this awesome section with Alan last year and knew the challenges ahead. Four of us started up Logan Valley road. Soon Paul drove up with Coke, V-8 and water for all. Hugh stayed with me as I slowly crawled up past the grazing cattle into the trees along the creek. This is a beautiful bike ride, the sound of water filling the air, the light filtering through the trees, the road ever up and up. Hugh stopped for water at the Trout Farm as I continued. Several steep pitches near the summit, finally, I stopped riding and walked for 200 meters. It felt so good to get off the bike a bit. The summit was past and I descended, trying to recover as I plummeted into the valley. Up and down another ridge, then into Logan Valley. The Strawberry Mountains to the right, shinning in the evening light, the prairie to the left, full of green! It was so beautiful, and I was finally feeling a bit like food again. I put some dates under my tongue and let them dissolve.
There was another steep climb out of Logan Valley before the next control at Parrish Cabin campground. At the control, the volunteer Bill asked me a lot of questions. I could not think properly to answer any of them. One question, “Do you want to clean up?” this I understood. Thus I got a quick warm shower of my sore bottom. Then I ate solid food, noodle soup and white rice. Sounds yummy? Well it stayed in my body, a good thing. Rick, Karel had arrived earlier. Hugh rolled in and we were juicy targets for the swarming mosquitoes. I stayed as long as I could stand the insects, then left with Hugh. The others were already on the road. The evening sun was in our eyes as we entered road 15, climbing first, then into the shadows descending very fast towards Canyon City and John Day. There we stopped in a closed gas station to recover, warm up a bit, and prepare for the night ride.
A John Day police sergeant drove up and started asking us questions. “What you guys doing? Where you going?" We bantered back and forth, and as the conversation wrapped up, he asked, “Are you guys packing?” I don’t have a weapon, but showed him my plastic fork asking, “Does this count?” “Ha Ha, that could be a Spork if you shorten the tangs a bit” he replied, and drove out of our lives. Alan spoke with him later that evening.
The ride on highway 26 was fantastic. The dark night masked all sights except the road lighted by the bikes. The John Day river noises were clear and close, unlike during daylight with traffic. I very much enjoyed this time with Hugh and Karel. We did the control at Dayville, more soup, noodles, cookies, and now coffee. Three cheers for caffeine, the legal performance enhancement! The road descends until the river turns north. Now the road climbs along a tributary towards Mitchell. The dark sky has no light pollution, and I see the dazzling display of the Milky Way, the Big Dipper, Orion and other constellations as we ride along. Finally, just as false dawn brightens into dawn, we crest the Keyes Creek pass and bomb the 2 km descent into Mitchell where the hotel control crew, hot shower, hot food and drink, and sleep awaits. Our 10:00 wake up call turns into 08:30 awake for both Hugh and myself. Alan and Ian arrive just as I prepare to depart.
Day 3 - 250 kilometers and 12,300 ft elevation gain
I burn up a lot of time preparing for the day, chain lube, sunscreen, breakfast, toilet all seem like big jobs. Volunteers take care of water bottles, food, well wishes, and photos. Did John get the photo as I left the parking lot? Then I am on the bike turning onto the road chasing down Hugh and Karel who think I am up the road! We turn off highway 26 onto 207 northwards. Climbing, already I am overdressed, so I disrobe while riding. Off goes the extra jersey, then arm and knee warmers, gloves, I am down to only my Oregon Randonneurs jersey and shorts. The turn onto Girds Creek comes up fast. This lonely beautiful road follows a dry canyon to the John Day River, amazing. I am on another new road that is fantastic for cycling! The new bridge leads to Twickenham, another organic road, climbing for 2 hours, we saw 4 cars and more horses, cattle, hawks, and other wildlife. The hot tailwind is from the river, so I get no convection cooling in the bright sun-warming day. Slow is the game plan here, don’t overheat, conserve water and energy. Then ahead is Paul with his support truck. V-8, ice water and sunscreen do it for me, Mark Thomas of SIR catches us at this point. Onward over really fine new chip seal that I bomb up and down for 3 km back to 207, the main road leading to Fossil. Right here, Hugh decides that I need an ice water bath on the back, oh is he in for it some day!
Fossil is one of my favorite Oregon towns, friendly folks at the café, good food, and fond memories of stage race finishes and cycle touring. There is the pile of fossils up behind the high school, but no time for digging today. Hugh and Mark forge ahead as I wait for Jim to finish eating. We climb the old hill climb time trial from Columbia Plateau Stage Race, and then bomb the descent 17km towards Clarno. At the John Day Fossil Beds Hugh and Mark are napping away the late afternoon heat. We all fill up on water, soaking our shirts and hats. Across the John Day one last time onto the 13.5 km Clarno Grade. Windy, hot, 4 randonneurs slowly climb up and up. The smiling Paul support truck shows up again! This guy has great timing. Summiting, we see Cascade volcanoes in the distant early evening.
At the Antelope control, ride organizer Dave Read has warm soup and his trademark fresh Pete’s Coffee ready. With sunset it is getting cold. We change wardrobe and begin the climb towards Shantiko, Mark off the front, Hugh, Jim and I stay together in anticipation of headwinds above the crest. At Shantiko we don our final warm layers, it is getting colder each minute. The turn onto Bakeoven Road marks the beginning of a long, cold, noisy, ethereal experience. The sun has set past Mt. Adams. The new moon is setting just above Mt. Hood while Venus also shines above the summit. Beautiful. The wind howls in our faces, 25 mph steady from the Northwest as we work together through the sage brush desert, an occasional wheat field breaks the scene. Finally it is dark, the rough chip seal is poorly marked, but no traffic breaks the mood. Headlamps light the pavement, casting shadows on the brush causing grotesque shapes and images. Are those garbage bag piles on both sides? Colder now, we roll up and down, up and down, where are we, how soon to Maupin? Finally we start the twisty descent. My headlamp has limited peripheral effect and I cannot see past the apex of corners without weaving through the turn. Jim bombs down with better lighting while Hugh follows behind. What an environment for tired riders, windy, cold, black night, curvy road!
Towards the Maupin control, Jim and Hugh climb from the Deschutes crossing while I struggle, get lost, and finally manage to find the motel. There, volunteers from SIR Muoneke and Kole Kantner, learn how to make coffee, thick, black and bitter, just as I like it. I am blanked out, barely awake as I eat the noodle cup and apple strudel, drink coffee, and take some pain pills proffered by these two experienced guys. They did the pre-ride 2 weeks ago, and will ride the Wine Country 200 in Forest Grove on Tuesday. We leave the control. I am waking up, but almost fall into Jim as I leave the sidewalk onto the gravel parking lot. I struggle up the climb feeling the pain in my neck and back, legs, everywhere. After some indeterminate time, I begin to feel better. The caffeine and ibuprofen are kicking in. The climb continues, and I shift up two gears to stand. I feel better again and through the magic of modern medicine I go a bit faster. Looking back, Jim and Hugh did not follow along right away, but are not far back, so I keep pedaling expecting them to roll up. Focused on the road I complete the summit out of Maupin, Jim and Hugh are not visible. I bomb the descent into Tygh Valley, the road is straight and my lighting is adequate.
The next climb is steady 11km long and I am starting to really feel good again. Winds continue strong, but there are strange shapes like those piles of garbage bags from the sagebrush in the ditch, tall buildings, and lots of other weird visuals on this dark night. I turn onto Eightmile Creek Road. The wind is increasing, tearing through the brush and trees alongside the creek. The sounds are stronger now. Alan described it later as the Valkyrie screaming over the Norse battlefields. Winding down the creek bed on a road designed for Model T Fords, I struggle to keep my eyes focused. I am seeing double as I am too tired to track accurately. The information control at Fifteenmile Road is challenging for me, but I find the answer and complete the card.
Now only 12 km to go for me to achieve this quest. 43 minutes later I finish the descent, traverse The Dalles through the gusting winds, and turn into the Motel 6 parking lot. I walk my bike to the room where John Kramer has the final control. Mark, Karel, and Rick are enjoying the satisfaction of success. One beer and some peanuts later, John offers congratulations, a shower and a bed for a well-deserved sleep. Next up is Paris-Brest-Paris 2011.
I want to give special thanks to Ellen Michaelson, for all her support, encouragement and understanding, during my year of preparation and training for this grueling event. Thanks to my randonneur coach Philippe Andre for all his insights, to my ride partners Jim Hinkley, Alan Woods, Ian Shopland, Corey Thompson and all my riding pals for the fun filled kilometers. Thanks to Oregon Randonneurs, Seattle International Randonneurs, Portland Velo, and Team Oregon. Big special thanks to John Kramer and David Read for a fantastic event.
Ride Information:
Day 1: The Dalles to North Powder, 400kilometers, 4053 meters climbing
Day 2: North Powder to Mitchell, 350 kilometers, 3322 meters climbing
Day 3: Mitchell to The Dalles, 250 kilometers, 3749 meters climbing
Plan: Start slowly finding my rhythm, and a group I could work with on the long rolling drag out Highway 14 to the Columbia crossing at Umatilla. Climb to Athena and Tollgate at my own tempo. Continue from there.
Day 1 - 400 kilometers and 13,300 ft elevation gain
Morning came too early. I finally slept for a few hours, up at 5:45 to greet the day. Ian Shopland, Alan Woods, Philippe Andre, Jim Hinkley and the remaining 25 starters were all ready at 07:00 when John Kramer finished the announcements and sent us off. Ian rang his bell for the final lap! I called Ellen as we rolled along into The Dalles. Del Scharfenberg said that I looked more fit than I had in years, thanks Del. Crossing The Dalles Bridge, I was dropped initially, but maintained a steady gap to the leaders who paused at the Highway 14 junction. Philippe and Alan were also there. The highway rolls up and down until Biggs, the pace was too fast for me so I settled in with the second group of about 6. Philippe and Alan joined in as well. This group went well until the long descent after highway 97 where two groups formed. I should have waited for the second group, but continued with Alan, Philippe and Greg from Iowa. The pace was higher than plan, and I worked very hard to stay, keeping my pulls short. However, I seemed to be positioned behind Greg on his aero bars often, with little shelter when he was in front driving the pace. I got some rest with Philippe pulling, but not enough. When the wind cycled around to the Northeast, I was toasted. Fortunately, the pace slowed somewhat as temperatures soared, and we finally entered the bike path on I-82 to cross the Columbia River again. The Umatilla Tesoro control stop was just ahead.
The Control went fast, a Subway sandwich for me as I had eaten all my road sandwiches due to missing most of breakfast because of the pre-ride jitters. The air-conditioned store lured me to stay and converse with some Americorp group kids from Sacramento. The second randonneur group rolled in and was soon ready to continue. Departing the store, Alan rolled in with knee pain. Bummers, too early for that! Our route continued east towards Hat Rock State Park, flat, easy double pace line tempo, I talked with John from Yakima for a while. Nice recovery time! The tempo increased with the turn onto Cold Spring road and the climbing began. I punctured about 2 miles up the climb, alone in the north wind fixing a rear tire. Just as I finished, Hugh Kimbal from Seattle rode up, so we continued on together. It was good to have company in the wind. We chatted and climbed as the temperature went up into the 90’s. Happily I had installed a third water bottle cage anticipating this section!
I was almost finished with two bottles and getting hotter when the roving support truck appeared most unexpectedly, I had no knowledge of this ride perk! Paul, Dr. Codfish from Seattle International Randonneurs (SIR), was happy to fill us with Coke, V-8 and ice water! Saved! I heard later that Ian ran out of water on this section. It is hard to recover from bad situations on a long timed ride like this! Hugh tired out and stopped, so I continued into Athena for water and potato chips in preparation for the Mt. Weston climb. This entrée to the Blue Mountains is long, steep at the start and finish, with rolley polley plateau in the middle. I reached the summit just as sunset was upon me. The ride up was magnificent, the view beyond words, and the temperatures falling steadily. The control workers were ready with hot soup, sandwiches, pie, and bon homme, just what I needed as I bundled up for the long gradual descent past Spout Springs ski area to Elgin.
The Grand Rhonde valley was asleep on this Saturday night as I rolled through hoping to catch up with Rick Blacker of SIR. The only traffic was between the Flying J control and Union was the late night bar crowd. Then in Union a Honda Car full of kids whipped up, splattered me with what seemed to be ice cubes, and sped off. Shortly I came upon the information control. As I completed this chore, the sheriff sped around the corner. I though about waving him down, but chose not to. Why bother myself with small town problems. As I left Union, the horn of a train split the night calm. I was climbing toward North Powder and a bed. Could I beat the train to the crossing? Again the horn sounded, this time above me? The railroad grade was gently rising as I followed the creek bed below. I did not cross those tracks for many kilometers, the train far ahead by then.
I rolled into the North Powder control. There was no electrical power in the town. John Kramer and his SIR volunteers had the situation all in hand though. I was fed, showered and in bed before 30 minutes elapsed, sound asleep when 3 others came in afterwards.
Day 2 - 350 kilometers and 10,900 ft elevation gain
My 6:30 wake up came all too early at 5:55! I was up, fed, and on the bike by 6:45, riding with Rick. We had a glorious morning ride to Baker. The North Powder River valley was resplendent, the snow on the Elkhorn Mountains reflecting the early sun. Baker was full of cyclists, the motor variety, and the ride out of town is filled with the throaty Harley Hogs of my Milwaukee roots swarming past in packs, some waving back to me. I was feeling great as we climbed along the Powder River towards Sumter. Highway 7 turned west and I started climbing the first of three “Cardiac Climbs.” Rick passed me shortly and then disappeared. I was going slower and slower, my intestinal tract suddenly not good. I turned off onto a gravel road into the sparse Ponderosa Pines. I got off the bike and was major sick with diarrhea. Fortunately I was prepared with the necessaries to clean up afterward. Enough on that topic.
Back on the road an hour later, I was moving real slow, weak, but moving forward. I was out of water though, when John Kramer drove past, stopped and filled me up again. I could not eat, did not want to eat, so I just kept riding over the climb towards the next control at Austin House. I stopped at a spring to fill the bottles again, and douse my cycling cap and kerchief to increase evaporative cooling. At Austin House, a touring group from Sacramento was in the parking lot as were Rick and Karel from Missoula. I cleaned up and rode out with them towards the climb before Prairie City. Of course I was dropped early. I could not eat yet, so my energy was really low. But I caught first Rick, then Karel on the long fast descent into the John Day River valley, and we regrouped at the park in Prairie City where Hugh caught us.
I was very concerned about the upcoming ascent of the Strawberry Mountains and the time limit at Parrish Cabin Campground control. I rode this awesome section with Alan last year and knew the challenges ahead. Four of us started up Logan Valley road. Soon Paul drove up with Coke, V-8 and water for all. Hugh stayed with me as I slowly crawled up past the grazing cattle into the trees along the creek. This is a beautiful bike ride, the sound of water filling the air, the light filtering through the trees, the road ever up and up. Hugh stopped for water at the Trout Farm as I continued. Several steep pitches near the summit, finally, I stopped riding and walked for 200 meters. It felt so good to get off the bike a bit. The summit was past and I descended, trying to recover as I plummeted into the valley. Up and down another ridge, then into Logan Valley. The Strawberry Mountains to the right, shinning in the evening light, the prairie to the left, full of green! It was so beautiful, and I was finally feeling a bit like food again. I put some dates under my tongue and let them dissolve.
There was another steep climb out of Logan Valley before the next control at Parrish Cabin campground. At the control, the volunteer Bill asked me a lot of questions. I could not think properly to answer any of them. One question, “Do you want to clean up?” this I understood. Thus I got a quick warm shower of my sore bottom. Then I ate solid food, noodle soup and white rice. Sounds yummy? Well it stayed in my body, a good thing. Rick, Karel had arrived earlier. Hugh rolled in and we were juicy targets for the swarming mosquitoes. I stayed as long as I could stand the insects, then left with Hugh. The others were already on the road. The evening sun was in our eyes as we entered road 15, climbing first, then into the shadows descending very fast towards Canyon City and John Day. There we stopped in a closed gas station to recover, warm up a bit, and prepare for the night ride.
A John Day police sergeant drove up and started asking us questions. “What you guys doing? Where you going?" We bantered back and forth, and as the conversation wrapped up, he asked, “Are you guys packing?” I don’t have a weapon, but showed him my plastic fork asking, “Does this count?” “Ha Ha, that could be a Spork if you shorten the tangs a bit” he replied, and drove out of our lives. Alan spoke with him later that evening.
The ride on highway 26 was fantastic. The dark night masked all sights except the road lighted by the bikes. The John Day river noises were clear and close, unlike during daylight with traffic. I very much enjoyed this time with Hugh and Karel. We did the control at Dayville, more soup, noodles, cookies, and now coffee. Three cheers for caffeine, the legal performance enhancement! The road descends until the river turns north. Now the road climbs along a tributary towards Mitchell. The dark sky has no light pollution, and I see the dazzling display of the Milky Way, the Big Dipper, Orion and other constellations as we ride along. Finally, just as false dawn brightens into dawn, we crest the Keyes Creek pass and bomb the 2 km descent into Mitchell where the hotel control crew, hot shower, hot food and drink, and sleep awaits. Our 10:00 wake up call turns into 08:30 awake for both Hugh and myself. Alan and Ian arrive just as I prepare to depart.
Day 3 - 250 kilometers and 12,300 ft elevation gain
I burn up a lot of time preparing for the day, chain lube, sunscreen, breakfast, toilet all seem like big jobs. Volunteers take care of water bottles, food, well wishes, and photos. Did John get the photo as I left the parking lot? Then I am on the bike turning onto the road chasing down Hugh and Karel who think I am up the road! We turn off highway 26 onto 207 northwards. Climbing, already I am overdressed, so I disrobe while riding. Off goes the extra jersey, then arm and knee warmers, gloves, I am down to only my Oregon Randonneurs jersey and shorts. The turn onto Girds Creek comes up fast. This lonely beautiful road follows a dry canyon to the John Day River, amazing. I am on another new road that is fantastic for cycling! The new bridge leads to Twickenham, another organic road, climbing for 2 hours, we saw 4 cars and more horses, cattle, hawks, and other wildlife. The hot tailwind is from the river, so I get no convection cooling in the bright sun-warming day. Slow is the game plan here, don’t overheat, conserve water and energy. Then ahead is Paul with his support truck. V-8, ice water and sunscreen do it for me, Mark Thomas of SIR catches us at this point. Onward over really fine new chip seal that I bomb up and down for 3 km back to 207, the main road leading to Fossil. Right here, Hugh decides that I need an ice water bath on the back, oh is he in for it some day!
Fossil is one of my favorite Oregon towns, friendly folks at the café, good food, and fond memories of stage race finishes and cycle touring. There is the pile of fossils up behind the high school, but no time for digging today. Hugh and Mark forge ahead as I wait for Jim to finish eating. We climb the old hill climb time trial from Columbia Plateau Stage Race, and then bomb the descent 17km towards Clarno. At the John Day Fossil Beds Hugh and Mark are napping away the late afternoon heat. We all fill up on water, soaking our shirts and hats. Across the John Day one last time onto the 13.5 km Clarno Grade. Windy, hot, 4 randonneurs slowly climb up and up. The smiling Paul support truck shows up again! This guy has great timing. Summiting, we see Cascade volcanoes in the distant early evening.
At the Antelope control, ride organizer Dave Read has warm soup and his trademark fresh Pete’s Coffee ready. With sunset it is getting cold. We change wardrobe and begin the climb towards Shantiko, Mark off the front, Hugh, Jim and I stay together in anticipation of headwinds above the crest. At Shantiko we don our final warm layers, it is getting colder each minute. The turn onto Bakeoven Road marks the beginning of a long, cold, noisy, ethereal experience. The sun has set past Mt. Adams. The new moon is setting just above Mt. Hood while Venus also shines above the summit. Beautiful. The wind howls in our faces, 25 mph steady from the Northwest as we work together through the sage brush desert, an occasional wheat field breaks the scene. Finally it is dark, the rough chip seal is poorly marked, but no traffic breaks the mood. Headlamps light the pavement, casting shadows on the brush causing grotesque shapes and images. Are those garbage bag piles on both sides? Colder now, we roll up and down, up and down, where are we, how soon to Maupin? Finally we start the twisty descent. My headlamp has limited peripheral effect and I cannot see past the apex of corners without weaving through the turn. Jim bombs down with better lighting while Hugh follows behind. What an environment for tired riders, windy, cold, black night, curvy road!
Towards the Maupin control, Jim and Hugh climb from the Deschutes crossing while I struggle, get lost, and finally manage to find the motel. There, volunteers from SIR Muoneke and Kole Kantner, learn how to make coffee, thick, black and bitter, just as I like it. I am blanked out, barely awake as I eat the noodle cup and apple strudel, drink coffee, and take some pain pills proffered by these two experienced guys. They did the pre-ride 2 weeks ago, and will ride the Wine Country 200 in Forest Grove on Tuesday. We leave the control. I am waking up, but almost fall into Jim as I leave the sidewalk onto the gravel parking lot. I struggle up the climb feeling the pain in my neck and back, legs, everywhere. After some indeterminate time, I begin to feel better. The caffeine and ibuprofen are kicking in. The climb continues, and I shift up two gears to stand. I feel better again and through the magic of modern medicine I go a bit faster. Looking back, Jim and Hugh did not follow along right away, but are not far back, so I keep pedaling expecting them to roll up. Focused on the road I complete the summit out of Maupin, Jim and Hugh are not visible. I bomb the descent into Tygh Valley, the road is straight and my lighting is adequate.
The next climb is steady 11km long and I am starting to really feel good again. Winds continue strong, but there are strange shapes like those piles of garbage bags from the sagebrush in the ditch, tall buildings, and lots of other weird visuals on this dark night. I turn onto Eightmile Creek Road. The wind is increasing, tearing through the brush and trees alongside the creek. The sounds are stronger now. Alan described it later as the Valkyrie screaming over the Norse battlefields. Winding down the creek bed on a road designed for Model T Fords, I struggle to keep my eyes focused. I am seeing double as I am too tired to track accurately. The information control at Fifteenmile Road is challenging for me, but I find the answer and complete the card.
Now only 12 km to go for me to achieve this quest. 43 minutes later I finish the descent, traverse The Dalles through the gusting winds, and turn into the Motel 6 parking lot. I walk my bike to the room where John Kramer has the final control. Mark, Karel, and Rick are enjoying the satisfaction of success. One beer and some peanuts later, John offers congratulations, a shower and a bed for a well-deserved sleep. Next up is Paris-Brest-Paris 2011.
I want to give special thanks to Ellen Michaelson, for all her support, encouragement and understanding, during my year of preparation and training for this grueling event. Thanks to my randonneur coach Philippe Andre for all his insights, to my ride partners Jim Hinkley, Alan Woods, Ian Shopland, Corey Thompson and all my riding pals for the fun filled kilometers. Thanks to Oregon Randonneurs, Seattle International Randonneurs, Portland Velo, and Team Oregon. Big special thanks to John Kramer and David Read for a fantastic event.
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