Sea to Sky 200k

The rains have come to the northwest and a close to the end of the regular randonneuring season. This was another year of milestones for me: Endless Mountains 1240k in PA, earning the Mondial award (40,000 kms and counting), riding to Whitefish, and another whole series of rides. And yet the ride that stands above them all was a short little 200k. This ride was by far the best grand adventure, blending physical challenge, spectacular scenery and new cultural experiences.

At first I didn't think 13,000 feet of elevation gain was possible in this 200k. There must be some sort of mistake, but I had never been to Hawaii before. Could it be possible that you can go from sea level to 9,000 feet in under 100 miles on this tiny island? I had a hard time conceptualizing the difficulty of this ride and what I could do to prepare. The permanent owner David did a good job trying to scare me about this ride. "Most people are going to Hawaii on vacation to relax," he started part of his reply. This route has lots of climbing through areas with no services. I sent a quick reply: Sign me up.

I looked out of the window of the airplane and watched huge waterfalls cascade down through dense forest and white crests of waves crash on rocky beaches and hidden coves with quiet sandy beaches. This was my first trip to the tropics and when I stepped off the airplane, I felt like I had walked into the tropical house from the botanical garden I visited as a kid. Dense humidity mixed with an ocean breeze, and a perfect 82 degrees.

Two of my best friends were getting married on a small farm outside of Hilo. I spent the first part of my trip helping with their festivities and gorging myself with fresh tropical fruit and washing it down with cool drinks every evening. We snorkeled with sea turtles on the sandy beaches and warmed our skin with the intense tropical sun. The idea of cycling up the largest mountain on the island was put on the back burner until after the wedding.

The start of the ride was over on the other side of the island. I found that the local bus, Hele-On, left from downtown Hilo and would deliver me to the start near Waimea in time for a 6am start for only $3.00. However, this meant catching the 3:50am bus. I clipped into my pedals at 3:00 sharp and coasted the 6 miles and 1500 feet down from the house where we were staying to the bus station downtown. The only company were the loud coqui frogs and the dense smell of guava and yellow ginger as I sped through the darkness.

I wasn't sure what to expect when I showed up to the bus station. I couldn't help but wonder who would be taking a public city bus at 3:50am but assumed that it would be that crowded this early in the morning. I was shocked when there were over 30 people waiting at the stop with me. All of them locals who were using the bus to get to work on the other side of the island. I stuck out like a sore thumb in my spandex and neon vest and pale skin and them in baggy sweatshirts, jeans and sun-baked skin. I found a seat in the back of the bus and dozed for the 2 hour ride around the island. The bus continued to fill at each stop until all of the seats were taken and people began to sit on small folding chairs in the aisle. My stop was approaching and I wasn't sure how to navigate up to the front of the bus to exit. I carefully moved around people. "Where you goin' white man?" a large man abruptly asked me as I tried to get past him. I couldn't tell if he was mad at me or trying to help, but I replied that I was going to Waimea. "Next stop," he said, "not this one." I thanked him and crawled over more legs and bodies to get off the now over-packed bus.

A cold wind howled around me as I made my way through the deserted downtown of Waimea. I put on more layers and a rain jacket as I descended to the coast in the pre-dawn darkness. It was a ten mile descent to the gas station at the start of the ride. Each curve became warmer as I dropped from 2500 ft elevation back down to sea level. I showed up just fifteen minutes before the ride start time of 6:00. I bought a cup of coffee and a muffin for breakfast and re-organized my handlebar bag for the ride ahead.

6:00 sharp. I left the start of the ride with a huge grin on my face. Dawn was trickling over the island. Mauna Loa was shrouded in pink clouds as if the sun was causing an eruption. I could feel my body warm up with the series of rollers as I headed north to the tip of the island. 30 minutes into the ride the sun exploded through a break in the clouds over the ridge to my right at the same time a gust of wind caught me off guard from the same direction as if the wind were the tangible hand of the sun. I rested my elbows on my handlebars and held onto my handlebar bag as if there were invisible aerobars on my bike and pretended for a moment that I was in the Ironman. I put myself in their headspace on this exact section of road and tried to hear the sound of race tires and a solid disc rear wheel as they raced to capture the lead. I sat up and smiled, glad that steel touring bike and wide tires would carry me to different challenges.

The route curved around the northern end of the island toward the town of Hawi, the first control. I was rewarded with an incredible view of the island of Maui just to the north. There were patches of rain squalls in the channel and I could make out a few rainbows in the morning sun. These were pleasant distractions from the pounding headwind and the first true hills of the ride. I waved at the curious children who were waiting for the school bus at the ends of their driveway and was met with blank stares and the occasional tentative wave.

The control was at the Kohala Coffee Mill, a welcomed break. I grabbed a fresh tropical smoothie and refilled my bottles. I left the control and was glad the route turned south out of the headwinds. The sun was now out in full force although the roads were still wet from a squall that had just passed. The route also headed
back inland and began to climb. And climb. I had looked at the elevation profile, but I was still early in the route, this wasn't supposed to be the hard part of the ride yet and yet here I was in my smallest gear crawling uphill. In fact I would gain 3,000 feet in the next 15 miles. I had a moment of fear as the realization of the difficulty of this ride swept over me. I pushed those thoughts down, ate some food and admired the view.

Kohala is the oldest and extinct volcano on the Big Island. The slopes of the mountain are covered in grassy pastureland and dotted with old cinder cones called pu'u. Cows and horses looked up as I slowly pedaled by. I was buffeted by the side winds from the east again and was glad when the road was protected by eucalyptus trees. These same winds made the decent into Waimea a challenge. At each switchback, I had to slow down to avoid getting pushed into the guardrail. I balanced the urge to make up time from climbing with the need to make it to the bottom of the hill safely.

Waimea wasn't a control, but it was the last stop for food and water until the top of the climb and I was running late. If Waimea was a control, then I arrived at the closing time and I still needed to buy lunch. I pulled into the first gas station I could find and bought as much food and water as I could carry with me, two full water bottles and an extra 25oz collapsable bladder. I hurried out of town desperate to make up some time. Again the fear of not finishing on time bubbled up under the surface. I was only 40 miles into this ride and I was pushing the time limit with the majority of the climbing later in the day. How could I finish this in time?

Two miles out of town, I was swept up by a 25 mph tailwind. I made up 30 minutes on the clock in just a few miles and reached the bottom of the big climb. I had 7,000 feet to climb in 30 miles and began to rise up out of the lava plain. The tropical sun beamed down in full force and cast almost no shadows as I crawled up the relentless grade. As I looked out over the sun-burnt grassland, it was hard to remember the lush tropical forest just 60 miles away and realize that this was the same island. I reached the Saddle Road, the main road that traverses the island from Hilo to Kona in-between Mauna Kea and Mauna Loa. This is a wide modern road and crosses the most recent lava flows of the route and the scattered cinder cones. The route turned back to the east and back into the wind. This time there weren't any trees to protect me. I put down my head and struggled to keep any kind of momentum.

I reached down for a water bottle and realized that it was empty. I had drained my backup bladder hours ago. Now I was crossing a windy lava desert with only 3/4 of a bottle. I passed the Mauna Kea state park in the wild hopes they might have some water in the restroom but was met with a sign indicating that there was no potable water, not even a sink to wash my hands and face. I choked down the rest of the food I had without more than a sip of water and pressed on.

I saw the sign for the turn for the final climb from a mile away but it felt like it took hours to get there --a mirage in the desert. Six miles and then I would be at the top. I reached down and polished off the rest of my water. No use carrying it to the top. It seemed and endless distance but there was nothing to do but push on. The ride up to the first switchback went well. I was able to keep pace until I rounded the corner and encountered the first gradient over 10%. I stood out of the saddle and immediately spiked my heart rate.  I forgot what life was like at 7,000 ft elevation. I sat back down and continued on but still couldn't catch my breath. I pulled over to the side and tried to relax to bring my heart rate down.

Five miles to go. In my lowest gear, I crawled up the next switchback only to come into view of the next pitches of the climb. Each half mile I was forced off the bike to rest a minute until my heart calmed down. Two miles to go. I crested the steepest pitch so far and got a short reprieve as the grade backed off to almost flat and I could see the final push. One mile to go. I paused again to let my heart rate go down, but I still couldn't catch my breath. I put my head down on my handlebar bag and closed my eyes and could feel my face pounding with each beat of my heart. I sat up, swung my leg off my bike and slowly began to walk and push my bike up the steepest parts of the last pitch. 1/4 mile to go. I turned around to admire the incredible view down to the lava plains. There was a caution sign for drivers doing to the descent warning them of the 17% grade that I had just ascended. Finally the route flattened out and I slowly pedaled to the visitors center at 9,000ft.

I was greeted by clapping as some tourists applauded my effort and someone offered me an extra tray of food. I quickly filled my water bottles and guzzled the first bottle without stopping. I checked the time and realized that there was no way I would finish the ride in time. I had over 45 miles to go and less than 3 hours to finish. It had been a valiant effort, but just wasn't able to climb fast enough. I could just pedal back to Hilo rather than finish the ride. But I should just see what time it is when I get back down to the turn. I packed up my bag and turned around to head down. Again winds whipped at my bike threatening to push me into the guardrail. I slowed down until I could keep control of the bike but was still surprised at how fast I made it back to the Saddle Road.

Left or right? Is there any way I can finish? I might as well try. I turned right and was greeted by a 30 mph tailwind. My tires hummed in the quiet vacuum as I headed back to Wimea. I looked one more time at my watch and realized that there was only one thing to do. I put my head down and buried myself into the ride. I would push as hard as I could and would not check the clock. I just needed to ride until I reached the finish and I would either be in time or not. On a small uphill, both legs began cramping and I took three Endurolyte tablets at once. Now was no time to deal with cramps. The descent to the valley floor was incredible and I couldn't grasp how quickly the miles were going past. I powered into the headwinds just before Wimea knowing that it was a 10 mile descent to the finish.

The setting Kona sun blinded me briefly as the road turned west to the beach. Nothing was stopping me from the finish and I watched the miles fly by. I pulled into the parking lot of the finish and rushed into the store to get my finish receipt. I picked out the closest candy bar to the counter and collapsed on a bench outside. I couldn't bare to look at the time. Did I do it? 6:45 pm. I still had 45 minutes to spare! I couldn't believe it and sat there in shock for a minute as I let the day wash over me.

The day wasn't quite over. I still had to get back to the bus stop 10 miles away in Wimea. The rando clock had been turned off and now I could relax up the long climb and slowly spin in my lowest gear. McDonalds was the only place to get food late in Wimea and I stuffed myself with hot food and hot tea. I patiently waited for the next bus that came through at midnight. I loaded my bike and collapsed in to the seat and slept until the last stop in Hilo. In the darkness, the only sounds were the coqui frogs welcoming me back to Hilo as I slowly began the 4 mile climb back to the house.

The Ultra 600k

I ride my bike to see the world, to discover the unknown, and to explore at a speed that exposes my senses to my surroundings. I find myself relaxing and calming during a difficult challenge, honing my skills on the ultimate focus of the end goal. Like breathing into a deep Yoga stretch, I channel all of my energy into mindful motions to create speed and power. There are times when this task isn't easy. In the heat of the sun, on the slant of a steep hill, and in the darkness of hunger, worry and stress creep in and gnaw at my confidence. But they will not last forever. The light at the end of the tunnel will grow brighter, just as soon as I get to the top of the next pass. 

Washington Pass. "Number five," I repeated to myself. "This is hard because it is hard." This was the fifth pass in just over 24 hours and I was ready for a break. My mind began to dream up the perfect breakfast. Hot coffee with cream and sugar, thick slabs of butter melting over fresh waffles. It was a good sign that I was hungry. My body was still open to the idea that food would produce energy. I needed energy and power, not rest. Not yet. There was still a mountain to climb. As my legs continued in their perpetual metronome-ic left, right, left, right, my mind wandered south through the mountains. I wondered how my friends were doing climbing, rafting, and hiking. They would be counting carabiners, securing PFD straps and tying shoelaces rather than counting milage posts. Was that regret passing over my brain, jealous of their sunny trips and my insane decision to ride across the Cascades? 

I rounded a corner and could see the end of the shadow ahead. In the mountains pre-dawn and dawn is drawn by the mountains casting their grand shadows across the landscape hiding the morning until the sun rises high enough to defy even their magnificent height. Birds began chirping just ahead, heralding the warmth of the impending morning. The sun slid from the top of my helmet down my back and across my legs as I emerged from the cold darkness into the morning. The new day had begun. I felt photosynthetic as the sun warmed my blood and gave me new energy. I stood out of the pedals and powered forward up the pass and crested past the summit sign. Another mountain climbed. Another stage competed. Not the finish, but one step closer. 

I looked back over my shoulder, back down the valley to the mountain peaks that still dominated the horizon. I was briefly amazed by the distance I had covered on my bicycle. The grandness of this landscape diminished all human scale. The thin ribbon of road stretched into the distance and yet I had managed to thread my way through those peaks to this point. The trumpets were sounding my return to the western slopes, back to the warmth of civilization and the finish. 

I was relived when I reminded myself that I would finish riding the 600k route today. It was an abbreviation of the 1200k rides I competed earlier in the year. Only two days of riding instead of four. I reminded myself that I started riding yesterday and would be finish riding today. Another simple fact that had been muddled through miles in the past 30 hours. The little sleep, thunderstorms, and heat stretched the hours and rippled them into days of adventure. Six of us started the challenge: Ride 300k across the three major passes on Highway 20, turn around and come back. A simple destination through some of the most majestic stretches of road in Washington. I jumped at the opportunity to ride through the mountains one last time before the rain and snows descended on the Northwest. 

Now, only three of us remain. The others turned back by their own challenges of the ride. We aren't riding against each other, but we aren't choosing to ride together at this point. Our speed vary and the busy traffic limits the conversations that kept us awake through the night. Now, we chase the clock back to Arlington.

The waters of the mountain lakes are gemstones contrasting with the muted, dusty colors of the dry eastern slopes. Ferns, trees, and green plants burst from the shores as Western Washington returns to view. One more glance over the shoulder and the last grey mountain top slips behind the bow of the fir tree tops and I bid a farewell. My bicycle is twisted between the forces of gravity and the powers of the wind as I tuck into the wind spinning up the valley. Soon, the trees thicken and break the wind into a softer breeze. The steep mountain sides crumble into foothills. I roll along in satisfaction and begin counting the miles to home. 

Last weekend I completed Jan's Mountain 600k variation in 37h 53m. This incredible ride finishes my 10 series of Randonneuring events and 55 consecutive months of riding. Thanks to Jan and Ryan for encouragement and organization and to Brad for endless conversation. 

Pineapple Express

The moment the weatherman utter these words, skiers around the northwest shutter and hang up their skis for a few weekends and watch the snow melt before their eyes. Unseasonably warm, humid air gets blown in straight from Hawaii and bombards the west coast with torrential rains. The cold drizzle of January gets drowned by heavy rains and temperatures in the 50s. The snow level jumps up to 8 or 10,000 feet and people living in the river valleys bring out the sandbags and the pontoon floats as they watch the water creep closer to their front doors. I decided this would be an exciting weekend to go for a ride.

Although the thermometer read a balmy 51 degrees at 6:30am on Saturday morning, leaving the house in the pouring rain reminded me of diving into the cold water of a swimming pool. Instantly water was running down my face and splattering on my rain jacket. Scott was the only one crazy enough to join me for a ride during this deluge. We spent the first few hours on the bikes verifying the forecasted 10-15mph winds out of the south west. Bent on the drops battling headwinds with a hose in the face was shocking to the system. Finally, the sky started to brighten and we turned west to head over the hills in Capital Forest. Rivers of water filled the swollen drainage ditch beside the road on the climb up Bordeaux. The trees provided a shelter from the winds and rain; the patter and splat of large drops fell around us on the road.

I was nervous about getting across the Chehalis River as it typically spills its banks each winter. Water had filled the wetlands and spread into the nearby fields, but the road was high enough to escape flooding today. We followed the valley into Elma and then turned west and back into the rain towards Grays Harbor. My speedometer jumped between 12 and 13 mph even though we were at maximum effort. The only hope was that this wind would continue for the return trip. I couldn't pass by the coffee shop in Montesano. The sweet pastries and hot coffee tasted better today than ever before. We squeezed the water out of our gloves and pushed on to our turn around of Cosmopolis. We picked up our time stamped receipts and turned around to head for home.

Hot soup with crackers, bread, maybe another cup of coffee? Chips? maybe. I had a warm vision of what I was going to eat at the grocery store back in Montesano. Mostly the soup from the big pot sitting in the deli section, but not today. The soup pots stood empty and the deli was closed. Devastated, I settled on a turkey sandwich, the Randonneuring standby. My lunch disappointment was pushed aside, or blown aside by the much anticipated tailwind. The rain even started to let up a bit as we cruised back to Elma at 20 mph. We followed quiet roads back along the Chehalis River into Oakville. The post lunch food coma dulled our pace but sparked up some conversations as we pedaled through a light mist and even patches of clearing sky.

First ride of 2011 (r35)

For a brief second I considered taking off my rain jacket, but that would certainly make it rain again. Small showers chased us back on familiar roads, and a pleasant tailwind kept us motivated. We crossed through a few places with water still running over the roads including one spot that you could feel the current pulling the bike to the side even though it was only 4 inches of water. We left in the dark and wet and returned in the same fashion. A steaming cup of hot chocolate with whip cream ended our adventure. I wondered if a hot shower would feel good after being wet all day, and was glad to find out that it did. I still feel like a sponge that has soaked up as much water as possible. It will probably take a trip to the heat of Texas in May to dry me out. That's right, Stampede 1200k will start on May 11th, more details to follow.

Recap and Finish 2010

Brevets and Permanents I did in 2010

I haven't posted anything since May about my rides, but that doesn't mean that I haven't been riding. This has been my busiest year to date. In June I completed my first 1000k ride in the Blue Mountains of Oregon. My body wasn't ready for the heat and sun on this ride, but I scraped through and enjoyed every minute. Twelve days later I was back in the saddle on the Cascade 1200k. This year I managed to get the ride safely (without getting hit by a car while commuting in 2008) and finished the ride with a big smile on my face. After a stomach bug on the first day, I recovered and finished in good time. John and I decided it would be fun to ride to the start of the famous 3 Volcanoes dirt road 300k. I'm glad I had fenders because we finished in a nice shower. It can rain any time of the year in the northwest. The Boarder to boarder 1000k stretched the flattest part of Washington from Canada to Oregon and back. This became my fastest long ride yet. In Oregon, I crashed when I got a flat tire on a descent during a 600k. I finished the ride and must not have been too hurt because I took another spin around the Cascades on the summer 600k. I could bare to miss an epic adventure down the coast for the Crater Lake 1000k. We followed the coast and then turned up a mountain to wind our way to Klamath Falls. I was able to get good weather on this ride and camped out in a bivy sack for the two nights.

These long rides set me up for a goal I never new I had. My first year Randonneuring I read about the few crazies who had just become K-Hounds (riders who completed 10,000k of events in one year). I felt like I had enough after 4765km of riding that year. When I finished 8200km last year, I knew that it was possible for met to reach 10k. This year on November 11th, I pedaled around Thurston County with a group of friends to 10,000km. 


I couldn't stop there because I still had an consecutive r12 on the line. I have been riding 200k every month since March 2008. Scott and I found the only day of sunshine in December and pedaled the familiar route up to Brinnon and managed to get back just before the sun set. 


After this busy year, I could only think of one thing to do on New Years Eve that would wrap up 2010 and spring me into 2011. I worked until 6:00 pm and ran home to gear up for one last ride. I didn't want to repeat the frozen toes of the 300k I did last year, so something shorter would be more enjoyable. A quick and easy 100k around the block and I might even be home before midnight. The weather was a crisp 25 degrees and the sun had set when I turned on my light to pedal out of town. I knew this route so well that I was only glancing at the cue sheet. There were only a few cars on the road as I left town, most were already at home or off at parties. 

Entering Rainier at 11:00

Reset to 00:00

I enjoy riding at night in the solitude and quiet. Sometimes I feel like a train following the track of my cue sheet into the dark. The air bit at any exposed skin and I had to readjust my layers. In Rochester, I stopped in the busy gas station and was bedazzled by the bright lights and lots of people. I picked out a Snickers bar and saved my receipt for the control and headed back onto the rural road for the next town. In Tenino, I pulled over for my first warm up break. I could feel the temperature falling so I pulled over and popped the top off my thermos. I sipped on the watery hot chocolate I made before I left, but it tasted like the best hot chocolate I had ever had. I slipped on my down jacket over my other layers and set back off down the trail. My headlight reflected in a million diamonds of frost shining on the trail. It was so thick, I was leaving tire tracks behind me and could feel the frost crunching under my tire. I quickly left the trail for the safer, salted shoulder of the road. From Rainier, I headed back home along familiar roads. I could tell it was getting closer to midnight when I starting hearing the pop, pop, bang of fireworks. I was approaching Lacey when I realized how close it must be to the new year. I pulled out my camera and snapped a picture of my clock on the new year as the sky erupted around me in jets of color. 

Cold but happy in Rainier

Without wasting any more time, I swung back into town and headed home. Immediately, I hopped straight into a hot bath with a big bowl of soup. All the toes were cold but functioning and quickly warmed up in the heat. This will be the first ride of my p12 award which is awarded for completing 100k each month, a shorter version of the r12. I can't wait for the new adventures waiting in 2011!

Oregon Coast 600k

I love riding the Oregon Coast, so I was excited to do this ride before it started. Riding south on 101 feels like I'm back on tour cruising down to California and beyond. This time, we're heading only as far south as Lincoln City but we are getting some beautiful views of the Pacific. The week before this ride, I re-injured my back lifting a bike at work, so I knew I was going to be a little sore on the ride. I was going to take it easy and had a few different bailout plans if I needed to use them.

This ride started in Forest Grove, like many of the Western Oregon rides. Alan, Corey, Millison, and I drove out to the start from Alan's house in Portland. The morning was cool and we had on most of our extra clothes. It was hard to predict what the weather was going to do today. We headed north to Vernonia along a bike trail and then back on small highways. In the small town of Birkenfeld, I stopped to get some IBP for my back. It was hurting from sitting in a pace line with the group. Riding alone, I was able to coast and stretch more often without having anyone right behind me. I put on my headphones and headed up a small pass over the Coast Range. Sun and rain showers alternated all morning but the temperature stayed relatively warm. As we headed out to the point in Fort Stevens, the wind started to pick up. Riding alone, I had fears of a repeat of the 400k. At the end of the point, we turned around but the wind kept it's same direction.

From the point, I was soon back on the familiar 101 South heading down through Seaside and Cannon Beach. At some point I made the mistake of dropping or leaving my bottle of IBP and Endurolytes so I had to stop and pick some up at a grocery store just outside of Seaside. My back was frustrating me, but it was hard to keep that frustration when the weather was sunny and warm. Originally, we had planned to stop in Cannon Beach for lunch, but Corey and Alan were long gone, so I just kept going. I was feeling slow, but steady and wanted to maximize my daylight at my slower speed. I stopped at a small grocery store just before Miami Foley road to pick up a snack. The valley ride along the Miami Foley Road was something out of a Randonneur's fantasy. There was almost no traffic and the sun highlighted the dark clouds while a rushing river followed the road. In Tillamook, I stopped at a Subway and chatted with the sandwich artist who had just seen some riders ahead of me.

Rather than climb over the 3 capes, the route stays inland and follows 101S to the Sandlake Rd to Pacific City. The wonderful Pelican Brewery has delicious beer and incredible clam chowder. It was tempting to kick back a few pints and call it a day, but the warmth of the chowder spurred me on. (I resisted the beer this time) I should have had a cup of coffee there, because not long after I was back on the bike, I was starting to get tired. I pulled over at a lookout and took a 15 minute nap. It was surreal to wake up and hear the crash of the surf below. Just a few miles later, I came upon another rider and realized that it was my friend Millison. He was confused with the multiple roads named Slab Creek (our next turn). We found the correct road and started climbing the last pass before the overnight control. The best solution to falling asleep is to have someone to talk to. We took a short break at the informational control and then finished the big climb just in time for the sky to open up and the rain to pour down on us. Descending this twisting forest service road with its potholes and poor visibility is challenging anyway, but with water running off my helmet, it was nearly impossible. I picked the best lines and hoped for the best. By the time we got to the bottom, the rain had stopped and we found our way back to the highway and the few miles to Lincoln City.

Earlier in the ride, we had talked about riding through the night rather than sleeping at the overnight control. Now that we were here, the idea of sleeping sounded much more enticing, but I was concerned about how my back would feel in the morning. After changing into fresh dry clothes, getting some food and sitting in warm room, Millison and I felt like we were ready to take on the night, well sort of. Just as we reached the door of the hotel, he turned to me and said that he needed a nap. I wasn't going to say no, so we crashed out in the laundry room floor for a half hour. I was really cold when we got up, and I put on all of my clothes including my emergency balaclava. Later I found out that it was about 36 degrees. We left the lights of Lincoln City and turned off of 101 heading east. The next miles are a bit of a blur. I kept randomly talking just to stay awake and pass the time. I don't think I could have finished that section without some company.

Our goal was to reach the diner in Siletz. We could taste the hot coffee, gravy, and pancakes. But when we got there cold and hungry, the closed sign was still on the door. We could see some people inside and went on in. Three older men were sitting drinking coffee and told us that the cook was sick today so the diner was closed. When we told them how far we were biking, they poured us a cup of coffee and let us warm up for a bit. By then the low hung clouds were getting lighter. We had more showers on and off as we climbed on to the short gravel section. The wet hard-pack gravel with loose rock on top was challenging to go down. Even my wide tires didn't want to grip on the road. With adrenaline pumping, we made it down the other side only to climb back up to the town of Summit. Still no stores open, we counted the miles to Blodgett. The open sign on the store was a beautiful sight. We devoured some hot food and hot coffee while we warmed up.

The sun was shining and warming our muscles and we pedaled slowly out of town heading to the next control, one tiny step at a time. Just as we reached the Safeway, a light drizzle turned into hail and pelted us across the parking lot. The weather today was all over the place. More coffee, food and back on the bikes. Rollers at this point in the ride were challenging to keep your energy up. The steep grades were difficult and the repetition was mind numbing. More showers kept battering us every few minutes. Just when it looked like we would be dry for a few minutes, we would turn down the next road and get drenched again. Digging deep, we found the motivation to keep the pedals turing even after we had to stop and fix a flat in pouring rain. Fellow riders Michael and John caught up with us and pedaled just ahead of us into Dallas. More food and coffee in Dallas to give me enough energy to pedal home.

The lack of sleep was hard to keep focused at this point. All I wanted to do was stop, but we slowly moved along and the last miles of roads disappeared behind us. Finally, we could see the hotel just past the next intersection. It felt so good to be finished. We flopped into chairs and handed our brevet cards to the organizers. A hot shower, burgers and beer and we were ready to head back to Olympia.

Covered Bridges 400k

Some rides go smoothly, other rides do not. The larger forces of randonneuring sometimes work together to create unexpected difficulties. This was one of those rides. Last year, I came down and rode this 400 in personal record time as far as 400's go and was excited to have a repeat performance along this beautiful course. We gathered at the start of the ride chilly, in the early morning before the start. I followed the big pack out of town, but the group got cut apart with a few stoplights just a few miles down the road. I found myself riding next to Milison, who was on his first 400k. We started riding together just as the first winds started pushing us around. The sun was just coming up behind a huge cloud bank, but the day was dry so far. As we continued south, the fierce winds blew strongly across the fields. As the sky got lighter, we could see the first beautiful flowers blooming. The lilacs were in full bloom and many of the cherries still had flowers on their branches. Sheep were calmly grazing in the fields around Scio as we started noticing the first rain clouds. 

In Scio, Corey was having some stomach problems, so we hung out with him for a while. The rest felt good and Milison and I were enjoying some caffeine. We got Corey back on his bike and he started to feel better with some calories and hot liquid in his stomach. Now the search for covered bridges began. This was an interesting concept for a brevet; usually the rides aren't themed in this way. Each or the bridges is unique and beautiful. Riding along these back highways feels like we stepped 100 years back in time. We stopped at each bridge to answer control questions for the info controls as we continued to wonder south. All day we were working in to some kind of head wind. I started counting down the miles until we got to head back north and take advantage of a tailwind. 

Morning turned into afternoon and the sun decided to come out for a few hours. We were able to strip off some of the bulky clothing at lunch. Back on the bikes we enjoyed the last of the covered bridges and set our sights for the Mohawk General Store, our next major stop. The major of the climb of the day was a quiet brake from the wind. The small pass blocked most of the headwinds. At the Mohawk Store, we bumped into riders who were not on our brevet. Whenever we interact with other cyclists at these stops, they always are a amazed and confused as to why we would want to ride so far in one day. I was asking myself the same questions today. 

The plan from here was to bike just a few more miles south, then cross I-5 and ride the tailwind all the way home. But, the weather had other plans for us. The moment we crossed over into the valley on the west side of I-5, we were hit in the face with some more headwinds. To top it off, there were fewer trees and larger fields in this section of the ride. We hunkered down and got back into the drops and stacked up into a nice pace line and headed north. The sun was setting as we staggered into the next control. I remember being here hours earlier last year. At this point Corey and I came to the realization that at this pace, we weren't going to be getting finished until 3am. We tried to pick up the pace a little bit, but the wind slowed us down again. Sitting all day in the saddle in a pace line was making me saddle sore, not a fun way to spend the next 6 hours. I stopped not far down the road for some more chamois cream. The road continued on endlessly into the night. The winds didn't stop with the sun going down, but we push on anyway. The next stop was at a convenience store in Albany. Hot coffee and some calories helped me get back in the mood to finish this ride. As we neared the next control, we could see some riders returning back to the highway. It felt good to see riders ahead of us as it was the first time since lunch. Not much was open in downtown Independence late at night. We ended up getting invited into a loud bar by the bouncer. They put us at a table and put hot coffee down in front of us and signed our cards. Being inside with lights, music, and heat was a little bit of sensory overload. We paid for our coffee and left to finish the last 50 miles. 

Everyone was starting to get sleepy, but we kept the conversations up to keep everyone on track. Corey and I found ourselves riding along after a quick bathroom stop and we chatted to keep awake. We came upon our friend John, who was looking a little sleepy. The three of us finished the last few miles together just as the birds were starting to wake up. We didn't end up getting back to the hotel until after 4am. This wasn't my slowest 400k, but it was very close. We stubbled upstairs, turned in our cards, and each took a hot shower before passing out in bed. 

Five Fleching Friends

The annual Fleche is one of the few team events in the sport of Randonneuring. Although many people chose to ride with a group during a brevet, it is not required and many times groups will morph during the ride as people change pace and make stops. During the Fleche, teams ride from around the northwest into Olympia and celebrate a post-ride brunch. Each team is required to ride a minimum of 360k in 24 hours without taking more than a 2 hour stop in any one place. This creates unique challenges and is good training for night riding during the longer brevets. This is one of my favorite events and is the third year I've participated in this ride.

This year, our team called the Five Fleching Friends Following Fellow Fools Follies, departed Olympia at 4pm heading south to Rainier. The warm sun was on our backs and the ride felt more like a casual evening ride rather than a start of a 24 hour adventure. We ran into heavier commuter traffic as we headed around the military base into Tacoma. When I was designing this years route, I forgot to take into account that we would be riding through the most populated areas during rush hour. Luckily, there was a large shoulder and the traffic gave us plenty of room. Corey and I came up with the idea of this route based on where we would be spending our two hour nap. Some groups spend that time sleeping in a gas station, Denny's, or Post Office, but we opted for a warmer option of the hospitality of fellow rando rider Jon who happened to live about 100 miles away in Port Townsend.

It felt strange bicycling towards a major city, usually we are heading away. We were distracted by a beautiful sunset over the Olympics as we approached the Narrows Bridge. As dusk settled, we prepared for night riding with reflective gear and some warmer clothes. The night air was cool, but warmer than I was expecting. I have ridden a few times on the Kitsap Peninsula and knew that it was hilly. So I avoided those hilly roads in hope of finding a new secret flat route into Belfair. Of course, those roads are only flat on the map, and we spending the first few hours of the night screaming down steep rollers and then creeping back up the other side. Traffic was low and the stars were out above us.

At the Safeway in Belfair we grabbed a close-to-midnight snack and took a few minutes off the bike to enjoy the break. Just after the break Chris discovered our first mechanical of the night. He had lost a screw from a cleat in his shoe, not allowing him to unclip from his pedals. Corey came to the rescue with a spare bolt and we were back on the way, Chris thankful that he didn't have to ride to Port Townsend without being able to unclip his shoe. The conversations started to drift as our group began to get sleepy. I'm not used to staying up into the early hours of the morning and yet we weren't going to be into PT until 5am. After the coffee runs out, I start with mint chewing gum to help distract me from drifting off. Corey and I chatted for awhile and eventually we started to see the lights of the city ahead.

Jon, an experienced randonneur and Fleche veteran knew how to treat tired riders. He had beds and food laid out for us and we quickly sacked out on various mattress pads and spare beds. Getting up from an overnight control is one of the more difficult parts of randonneuring. The spattering rain didn't help our spirits but the promise of hot breakfast and coffee at a diner woke us up enough to cruise down the hill. Refreshed and refueled, we turned our eyes south and headed for home. It wasn't long before the drizzle of morning rain turned into heavy rain. We put our jackets on and heads down counting down the miles until we hit 101. A quick jaunt over Walker Pass and we enjoyed a few moments of 35 mph into Brinnon. I have ridden the highway to Brinnon many times and was prepared for the rollers. Soon, the sprinkles turned into full on showers and we were soaked to the bone. I always wondered how difficult a fleche could be in the rain, and now I knew.

We met our secret control in Hoodsport just in time to see a few sun rays poke between the clouds. These vanished again once we were on the way to Shelton and our 22 hour control. We arrived in Shelton with our tails between our legs and water dripping off of our helmets. At this point we knew we would be pressed for time to reach the end of the ride before the 24 hour time cut. We had just a few more miles to go, but the weather was keeping us from making good time. With no other option other than to go on, we headed back in to the faucet and snuck closer to home. A few more brakes in the clouds helped lift our spirits home. As with the rules of the fleche, we stopped where we were and marked our position at the 24 hour mark. We were just a few kilometers from the official end, but had covered our required distance of 360k, so we were still going to get credit for the ride. We parted ways and searched out warm showers, clean clothes and a soft bed.

Lets Go Fly a Kite...in Brooklyn

Working at the Bike Stand has allowed me to meet hundreds of cyclists. As I have become a more proficient randonneur, word has spread around our regular group of customers about the crazy riding I enjoy. Every now and then people start asking about how to get involved with the sport and I start giving them the rundown of the rules, how a ride works and what to expect. Eventually some get up the courage and ask if they can tag along on a ride to see what it's all about firsthand. Instead of riding on a brevet for their first rando adventure, I usually suggest riding a permanent instead. This gives us more educational time rather than the chaotic excitement on a brevet. The permanents are also ready to ride at any time a allow us to pick our own difficulty and distance.

It was under these circumstances that we set off from the Lacey Fred Meyer with a small group of riders, ready for the adventure to Brooklyn and beyond. As I have said before, this is one of my favorite rides into the small logging community of Brooklyn, Washington. We set a moderate pace out of town and easily navigated the route to Littlerock, WA. Not much was going on at the gas station this morning and after a quick drink and snack we were off chasing the sunshine to stay warm on the brisk morning. After a few minutes of riding in our pace line, I glanced down at my speedometer and was surprised to see it reading 19 miles per hour. I wasn't working hard enough to be going this fast at the front of the line. At this point I few past a flag that pointed out the blasting tailwind. Feeling warmed up, I decided to push a little bit and enjoy the wind. The speed crept up to 21, 22, 25, 26 until I started to hear complaining behind me. We settled into about 24 mph and enjoyed being blown down the road. Somewhere in the back of my head, I thought this wind might bite us later in the ride, but the sunshine melted my worries away.

Finally we hit the gravel section, my favorite part. I love taking my bike places that most roadies don't go. It was interesting to see how our group of riders handled the terrain. After multiple flats and problems with fenders clogging, it was evident that those of us on wider tires and more fender clearance were having an easier go of things. Everyone was smiles at the top of the first large climb and we rocked down into Brooklyn. Sharp gravel caused a few more flats and delayed our descent, but we were ready for more as we approached Smith Creek Road, the second climb. The second section of gravel is even less used, and easier to ride. Back on pavement on the other side, Corey and I cruised along with Rick and chatted about rides to come.

My growling stomach indicated we were getting closer to 101 and Raymond. It was warm enough that we took our sandwiches outside and enjoyed the calories after the difficult climbing. The moment we turned north out of Raymond, we were hit by gusts of wind, this time from ahead of us. We followed the headwind for the next 60 miles. Each of us retreated in our heads and worked hard to stay together as a group. The winds swirled around our pace line forcing everyone to work hard to maintain even 13 mph. We all rode in silence; it was too windy to hear each other well. The end of the ride passed without any major events and we struggled up the final hills into town. We were blessed with a fantastic sunset, coming in just before it dipped below the black hills, ending an exhausting but rewarding day.

Another 300k

Even though the weather forecast wasn't looking pleasant, Rick and I decided to venture north to the Bellingham 300k. After riding a 300k in December, this couldn't be any harder, especially when they were advertising a flat course. The flags in the parking lot looked awfully stiff when we showed up at the start. The wind was whipping across the tulip fields and the clouds were racing across the sky. As I was organizing things in my handlebar bag before the start I realized that I forgot a hat and my helmet light. Last year I was able to finish a flat 300k before dark, so I guess I'll just have to repeat that sub 13 hour time again. We formed a huge pace line from the start to battle the headwinds south to LaConner. There weren't any tulips blooming but a few fields of daffodils gave the gray day a splash of color. Finally we made a critical turn and felt the wind pushing us from behind rather than holding us back. We road the tailwind at over 20 mph for an hour until we hit the rolling hills of Chuckanut Drive, a popular ride south of Bellingham. I enjoyed this road even more today without the regular stream of traffic this road gets on sunny days. Just outside of Bellingham the drizzle we have been having turned into heavy rain and then into hail. Spring storms can bring all kinds of weather. I was glad to not have to worry about tornadoes in this part of the country.

The tailwind blew us north out of Bellingham and up to the Canadian boarder. Even though the winds were fun, we knew it was only a matter of time before we were going to battle the wind again. The sun continued to break out between the storm clouds every few minutes and the day stayed relatively warm and the roads relatively flat. After another brief control, we turned into the strongest winds of the day. Another storm cloud opened up and flooded us with driving rain. Luckily our route turned away from the wind but up an incredibly steep road. Roads with names like South Pass, Summit Ridge or North Slope always give a good warning about oncoming hills. This South Pass was no exception. I shifted into my low gear (30x32teeth) and spun up the hill.

The steep climb did take us out of the farmlands around Bellingham and into the rolling forests. This drastically improved the wind conditions as we looped around Lake Whatcom to Cedro-Wooley. I got to demonstrate how to fix a flat tire to a man reading his paper on his front porch. He came over trying to figure out what I was doing in his driveway as I pulled a few large chunks of glass out of my tire. Inflated, I pushed on alone after my group passed me by. I caught them again at Subway in CW and we pedaled off to the metropolis of Concrete. I think more Randonneurs go to Concrete than actually live in the town. Instead of the regular route up Hwy 20, we followed some beautiful rural back roads along the river. As we climbed up to Concrete, the weather got colder and the clouds gathered together. It started misting just as we arrived.

I was in dire need of calories and coffee and took a beeline for those two things. I told Rick and the group to go on ahead so I could take a moment to eat and stretch. A few minutes later, I felt energy rising up through my body again. I plugged in my iPod and took off into the cold rain that was now drizzling down. It's amazing what food will do for your mood on a ride like this. By the time I got back to Cedro-Wolley, I was warm and happy again. I met up with 2 other riders and we headed back home. The sun had been behind clouds for the last few hours, but it was just starting to get really dark as we pulled into the final control. I made it without needing my helmet light. I shaved over 2 hours off the ride from the previous weekend and finished just over 13 hours. Another wonderful ride.

Bumping Up

So long 200k, the season is moving up in miles and on to a 300k. There isn't much difference between a 200k and a 300k as far as mental or physical preparation. At the end, it just feels like a long 200k (a 400k feels much harder than a 300k). The Granite Falls 300k started in the U District of Seattle so we decided to drive up the night before and stay with fellow rando rider Andy S. He lives just a few minutes ride from the start so we were able to avoid the drive up to the start early in the morning. It seems that everyone has decided that this is the year to ride and the start seemed crowded with over 80 riders standing around.

At the signal we were all off riding through Seattle to the bike trail that would take us out of town. The major rando routes around the urban areas are starting to look a little bit more familiar after riding them for a few years now. Corey and I backed off the large mass riding down the trail and took our time out of town. The sun started to come up over the valley ridge as we hit the first control. The beautiful sunrise was a good sign for the weather to come for today. We met up with Millison who was on his first 300k and was enjoying every minute of it so far. Our small group turned into a lager group as we picked up other riders down the road through the Snoqualmie Valley.

The sun was shining and warm when we pulled into Sultan for a sandwich and water break. We got strange looks from the other cyclists who were race training and on super light race bikes. They had a hard time believing that we were going over 4 times as far as they were. After the break, we headed up to Old Pipeline Rd. I can remember hitting this hill at the end of the Mountain 400k a few years ago just at sunset. It felt much easier with a fresh set of legs. We continued north to Granite Falls for another snack and then headed north again. The miles slipped away but Conway didn't feel any closer. The legs must be getting a little tired at this point.

The open fields near Conway were a nice scenic change from the forested rolling hills of the rest of the ride, but a small gust of wind forebode of difficulty ahead. As soon as we turned south, our paced slowed and everyone groaned as we ducked our heads and dug down deep for some more energy. But, it was sunny, warm and our large group took turns leading us into the wind. Nothing last forever (ok sometimes the rain does last forever) but we made it back to the trail south and eventually bumped into Mark T and Vincent at a not so informational control. Rather than have us answer a question, they were signing cards and provided some snacks for the last stretch home. Vincent was showing off his new Boxer custom rando bike. Back on the trail, we caught our first whiff of the beer and burgers awaiting us at the finish and started into the setting sun. The Seattle locals showed us the way back to the Ram Brewery, saving the out of towners from some navigation. Food never tastes so good after a long ride. We devoured dinner and loaded our bike for the drive home.

Berkie 200k 4/20/10

Too much riding and not enough writing. The season is in full swing, so here is a little recap from the Berkie 200k put on by the Oregon Randos. I always feel like I spend too much time refreshing the weather report screen during these early season brevets. The weather can be fickle and ever changing from the beginning of the week to the end and it really doesn't ever change the fact as to if I'm going to go or not. This ride was no exception but I knew it couldn't be worse than last year when it rained for the entire time. Corey and I drove down to Portland the night before the ride and stayed with fellow rando rider Allen. I could see lingering stars in the sky, promising at least some good weather. At the start, we prepped our gear  while stamping and shivering in the cold morning air. The bank thermometer said 35 degrees. Finally, it was time to start and the fast group took off through town at a full sprint. The rest of us took a little more time to warm up and watch for the first rays of sun slowly creeping over the hills. The river valleys are always cold and damp with the night air. By the time we hit the climb up and over Timber, I was ready to get the blood moving. It was fun to see new faces as well as friends from last years Oregon series.

Finally we reached Vernonia and were treated to fresh pastries and hot coffee. The air finally started warming up and the extra clothes coming off during the short out and back. Our larger group broke into a few smaller groups as we followed beautiful rivers into Berkenfeld. Randonneuring takes us into some of the most random small towns. The mustached owner of this store greeted us with incredible enthusiasm and was glad to sign our cards with a call of "See you next year" as we left. Watered and fed, we basked in the full sun that was now shining down on us. A small gust of wind greeted our return south the Vernonia. The headwind followed us all the way back into town. I was glad to be in a group on this ride and our pace line made good work taking turns into the wind.

I started feeling tired and wasn't excited about getting into the wind again, but my mood changed after a few calories and some stretching. We retraced our route back into Timber and over the hill behind the town. At this point my saving thought was a Starbucks Double Shot. I knew that the next control was a gas station and all I wanted was the cold caffeine. It has become a favorite drink of mine during the brevets. We didn't stop long, just enough to get our heads out of the wind again. Finally the temperature peaked at the predicted 57 degrees. It felt incredible to be sweating and have the sun baking my skin. Again, our team worked hard into the wind as we pulled the final stretch into Forest Grove. Corey and I were shocked when we looked at our watches and realized that it was still happy hour! Our time of 8:28 was the fastest 200k for either one of us. We rejoiced over a burger and beer with others at the McMenamins before we headed back home.

Chili Feed 200k

This was only my second Chili Feed 200k ride, unlike many others SIR members who had been participating in this event for many years. Last year I enjoyed the opportunity to hang out with many different riders rather than just the few that finished within the 2 hour time that I did. This even has turned into as much a social gathering as a regular event. One can imagine that the grand finale year of this event would bring just about every rider out to participate. Rick, Barb and I made it up to the start with lots of time to spare. This was a much different affair than last weekend in the desert. There were over 120 people at the start; the roads around Greg's house were packed with cars. This also marks the first route over 100k that I have done multiple times. It is interesting how your memory changes about a ride depending on how the weather, company and your body feel.

Traffic lights split swarm of cyclists into smaller groups as we made our way west through Kent to Tacoma. The weather was beautiful with patchy sun and clouds moving through. I got my legs warmed up on the first climb and continued to ride in various groups through the hills around Dash Point. This year they changed the route slightly and added a "bonus vista" (also read hard climb) through some neighborhoods in the area. Even though they were steep, 18%, they were short and early enough in the ride to not be a problem. My low gear of 30-32 also helps when the grades get really steep. From there, it didn't take long to get to the first control. I wanted to ride with Millison for his first 200k brevet and waited for him at the control. After no more than 5 minutes he showed up grinning and was ready to go.

Before long, we were cruising out through the sunny farms in the Green River Valley. The big paceline broke up just before the climb out of the valley to Black Diamond. The Black Diamond Bakery is a well known cycling destination for their wonderful pastries. I sat in the sun a few moments and devoured a glazed apple cinnamon roll, just like last year. When I came back from refilling my water bottles, I noticed that Millison had already left, thinking I had done the same. I pushed hard and caught up with him at the next turn. Not long after, a large gray pickup truck went by going the opposite direction and managed to toss a half can of soda at me and hit me. This was the first time I had ever been hit with anything from a vehicle, hopefully it will be the last. Luckily the can bounced off my arm and didn't cause any damage other than my ego.

Adrenaline pumping, I pulled a small group south toward 410, ready to get on the way to Greenwater. At that point a small shower opened up over us and started raining hard enough to put on the rain jackets. Within 10 minutes it had stopped and the sun was shining again. The climb up to Greenwater isn't steep, but mentally it is challenging. The road winds up and sometimes down as you gain a significant amount of total elevation. It looks like you aren't gaining much, but your slow speed indicates otherwise. Even with 120 riders on the road, I still found myself riding alone for parts of the climb. I didn't mind, though, it was a beautiful day with a tailwind and the White River rushing beside the highway. I was glad to get to the turn around point at the store just as it started sprinkling again. At about 1800ft above sea level, the temperature was colder than anywhere else on the ride.

Millison and Rick left the store with me and we bundled up for the long decent into the wind and light rain back down into Enumclaw. It was at this point I realized that Millison's mud flap on his fender was not long enough to protect me from his spray. Spitting out a few mouthfulls of dirt made me give him some more distance behind his rear wheel. The sand a dirt from the snowplows of the winter splattered everyone and their bikes with a fine coat of mud. By the time we reached the turn, the sun was shining again and we were quickly dry.

Just after we left the last control, it started to rain lightly again on us. In an instant the wind picked up and started dropping small hail on us while we were riding. Weather in Washington can be dramatic sometimes. We kept on track and made it back into the urban area without any more events. Careful navigation through the final 10 turns (in 4 miles) and we were back at the start. Mark and Greg greeted us with hot chili and cold beer, some of the best recovery food there is. We spent the next few hours telling lies and making plans for the summer with old and new friends.

Here is a link to the Smiling Faces that Mark found on the ride.
Here is the Flickr link to the Ride.

Desert 200k

There comes a time in every western Washington cyclist's life where the need for sun outweighs all other logic and reason. 8 hour drive, sure no problem. Killer headwinds, yup. See for 30 miles in every direction, why not. In this mindset, a number of western riders showed up in Richland, Washington for a Desert 200k.  The other side of the mountains aren't just different, it's almost a different planet. The lack of trees, precipitation, and irrigation canals make this area feel more like California Washington.

John, Paul and I left the Puget Sound on Friday evening heading over White Pass to our hotel in Richland. Plans for getting out of town early were extended when we had to return for a pair of forgotten shoes. No harm done, we were quickly back on the road and still made it to our hotel before midnight. This was just training for the longer rides when we wouldn't be getting any sleep anyway. Morning came too soon and some breakfast was in order.

Sun cracked over the horizon and quickly broke the morning chill as we gathered in a parking lot waiting for the ride to start. It was strange to look over and not see Mt Rainier on the eastern horizon. Introductions went around as people gathered their gear for the ride. I was surprised to see so many bikes without fenders and so many aerobars. It must be a dry and windy place out here. A brief welcome form Paul the organizer and we started off. The ride started up a main road out of town and a small group developed in the front of the riders. No one wanted to take off quickly, so we all warmed up together for the first few miles. At the first climb, I decided to stretch my legs and sped up off the front. It felt incredible to have the dry, sunny air flowing around me. The morning chill was disappearing as the sun rose overhead.

I was joined by two other riders and we pushed hard through the first small towns in an informal paceline. By the time we got to the first control, our group had split up by a minute or two. We followed a beautiful road along the river until we made a turn west on Hwy 22 to Toppenish. The morning breeze had turned into a full on headwind at this point. Alone and exposed, I struggled to maintain speed and motivation on the open highway. There weren't any trees in the way to block the view of Mt Adams a hundred miles away. Finally I was joined by what I thought was a large pacline I could see gaining distance from behind me, but instead, there were two equally tired riders working in the wind. I joined them, relieved to rest behind someone. After a short eternity, we reached the western edge of the route and stopped to refuel and refresh in the sun at Safeway.

Three of us left the turn around and headed a short distance north to ride back on the other side of the river for the way home. The moment we headed east we were blessed with a stiff tailwind. We started making the time up from what we lost in the morning as we cruised through the wine and fruit country. The farms on this side of the river provided us with more interesting scenery than the way out. As the hours passed, the day warmed up and the layers came off. Finally I was down to just the jersey and I could feel my skin warm in the sun. I began to tire and dropped back from the two I was with. Part of me wanted to curl up in the sun and nap, but I took some Endurolyts and pushed on. Back in Prosser I stopped at a Starbucks and was glad to have some caffeine for the last push back.

I had heard rumors about the winds shifting directions midday in this area, but I thought we were in the clear with only 35 miles to go. But I was wrong. Riding alone from the control, I turned east and was taken aback by a stiff headwind. The flags on the porches were all blowing at me. I groaned, turned up my music, got in the drops and pushed on. After a few hours of riding in the wind, I came to the conclusion, that riding in the rain is still harder than riding in the wind, but the wind sure does take a mental toll. The sun was still shining and the air was still dry.

So far in my rando career, I haven't been too concerned with my finishing time. The focus was always to enjoy the ride and keeping going. The mentality has worked out well, and always been fast enough to not get cut off by time, but there are many advantages of going faster. When I heard about how flat and dry this 200k was going to be, I pulled out my times from other 200k brevets to see if I could get a little faster on this ride. As I was spinning up the last big hill on the ride, the only thing I could think about was the 9:08 time I had to beat. In fact, I wanted to push even harder and see if I could break the 9 hour mark. I had 25 minutes and about 4 miles to go to hit sub 9 and it was time to see if I could do it. Back in town it was not only about how fast I could bike, but also how many lights I got stopped at. It reminded my of being late to work on my commute into town. The bike gods were with me and and made it in with 3 minutes to spare. This was my fastest, and flattest 200k to date. I got a cold drink and laid down in the sun and enjoyed it.

Spring 100k

A year ago, the spring 100k was covered in snow. This year we had cherry blossom petals snowing down on us. We couldn't have asked for a more perfect day. The populaire marked the first organized ride of the season and it is always exciting to see old and new faces again. The morning started with a fiery red sunrise against the horizon as we gathered to drive to the start in Renton. Coffee and donuts waited at the sign-in table and there were more people in wool jerseys than rain jackets. I managed to get my bike cleaned and all put back together after getting the new frame straightened. As we gathered for a pep talk, we were surprised with a serenade from a bagpiper as we started off. Over 100 riders decided to try the 100k course instead of the ever popular Chilly Hilly.

The forested and farmed hills around Renton didn't make for incredible sweeping vistas, but the sun shining through the trees on the spring flowers was equally rewarding.

All day, conversations abounded as we got to hear about how many rainy rides everyone did last winter. Plans started to be formed for the summer as people talked of the many big rides offered in our area this year. In best SIR form, there were incredible controls. Cookies, drinks, and smiles greeted us at the major controls, all good things even on a "short" ride. Also in SIR tradition, there were plenty of hills to find in the area. We even found some extra ones not on the course with some "bonus miles". It's so easy to miss a turn when chatting with friends.

The ride ended at the Dog and Pony Alehouse with good food and lots of beer. The Olympic gold medal hockey game was in full swing on the TV. We enjoyed meeting a few new faces over a few pints and burgers as we waited for friends to finish their ride.