Wes at Gold Rush

Our riding buddy Wes Johnson is lining up for the California Gold Rush 1200K, which gets under way this evening. Apparently, his adventure has already begun. His bike frame suffered a crack in transit, forcing him to scramble for a back-up. He'll be riding a brand new Fuji carbon bike.

He will be tweeting from the route as time permits. You can follow his progress here:

http://twitter.com/kicbakunc

Tailwinds to Wes and other friends attempting the ride this week. A full list of the riders can be found here.

Firecracker 400 / July 4th 400K / Statesville NC

Don't look now, but we're developing a regional identity on the mid-Atlantic brevets. Put on a randonneuring event in Virginia, Maryland, Georgia, South Carolina or the Tar Heel state of North Carolina, and you're likely to pull riders from a three or four-state area. This is an encouraging trend. As we ride and swap stories with talented randonneurs from neighboring states, we're forging new bonds of friendships and allegiances among our various clubs.

And so it was on the July 4 400K out of Statesville, N.C., hosted by RBA Tony Goodnight. The event drew 15 riders. About half of the riders were locals. The others came from Georgia (Wendy, David, Gator, Leslie), Tennessee (Bill), South Carolina (Phil) and Indiana (Bob).

The start time was a new one for me: 12:01 a.m. That meant we'd be writing off sleep that first night and counting on the dawn sun and our biological clocks to recharge us at mile 90 or so. Also, to get me through the night, I downed a Starbucks double shot espresso at the ride start.

The pre-ride description of the course sounded "scenic," to borrow a word from our DC-Rand friends. Translation: hills stacked upon hills like a seven-layer cake. Our route took us from the edge of the Piedmont into the serious slopes of the Blue Ridge Mountain, very near Mt. Mitchell, the highest point on the East Coast. We'd start with a climb over Brushy Mountain, climb seven miles up to the Alpine village of Little Switzerland (elevation: 3,455 ft.) on the Blue Ridge Parkway, and climb back up to the Parkway after dropping off the back side. Of course, there were a couple of unadvertised specials, like a one-mile climb up from a creek on the return trip, and lots of painfully rolling stretches on Blue Rock Road near Burnsville.

The group rolled out of the Economy Inn with great enthusiasm, with Branson and the Georgia crew setting a rich pace. We hung together until Brushy Mountain sent out heavy gravity waves that pulled the pack apart. It was there that David logged the group's first mechanical: a broken rear derailleur cable. He apparently soldiered on, pushing big gears for the remaining 220 miles. Not a fun way to do this challenging course.

I rode most of the night/day with Branson, Lynn and Joel. I'm using ride together loosely since Lynn, a superb climber, was off the front any time the world turned vertical. We lost Joel towards the end of ride when he opted to give his legs a breather in the heat.

We finished up at 9:32, for a total time of 21:31. Joel showed up a few minutes behind us. A shout-out to Brother Rob, who finished just after midnight, for his first successful 400K.

Some mental / emotional snapshots along the way: The clerk at the Lenoir Fast Stop who wouldn't sign her name to our cards -- unless her last name happens to be Fast Stop....the incredible climb up 226-A -- seven miles of no-traffic, shaded, scenic bliss...Joel's unflaggingly positive attitude -- he's always a joy to ride with...two iced Cheerwines in glass bottles that cheered up my parched innards....the mental cussing on Blue Rock Road....the Steak House in Marion, where we had a sit-down breakfast...Phil C smiling as he changed a flat; he kept our visitor from Indiana company...the view of Mt. Mitchell on the blue-ridged horizon...the rock caves carved into the road beside Emerald City, where we got big scoops of ice cream and sat on a shaded bench...the smell of burning brakes from the camper/trailer on the long descent down 80....the dog that charged out into the road as I was descending a steep hill at around 35 mph -- a very narrow miss....afternoon clouds that dropped the temperature a good 10 degrees...the July 4th fireworks exploding in the sky as we neared the finish in Statesville.

Another great day on the bikes. A big thanks to Tony for opening up a whole new series of adventures.

A few pix:

The view as the sun climbed the sky and we neared the mountains.

RBA Tony Goodnight.

This is about as "scenic" as it gets.

Lynn at the last control before the finish.

Branson and Joel at the Blue Ridge Parkway and 80.

Bikers: only 13 curves to Little Switzerland.

A New Kid in Town: Kerr Lake Loop Permanent, July 3, 2009

I knew it was going to be a special day. All three of my riding companions—Alan, Byron, and Mike—have RUSA numbers so low they look more like baseball stats. It was also a holiday, or, at least, almost a holiday. We saw one cyclist on Bike Route 1 south of Oxford with a flag attached to his handlebars that confirmed as much. And then there were the flags lining the Kerr Lake Dam. The lunch at Rose’s in Boydton, VA, where Mike and I ordered the tuna salad sub special on a hot tip from Branson. Two state-line sprints . . .

But let’s back up to the beginning. There was this “new” guy named Alan, pictured here, that shows up to ride with us. At least I thought he was new, since I’d never personally seen him before on a RUSA ride.

After the Oxford, NC, control at about mile 111, just when the rest of us thought we would settle into recovery mode for the remainder of the ride, Alan throws down a challenge, jumping out in front. The rest of us just couldn’t let the new kid on the block go uncontested. It turns out that the dude executes one monster pull along Cannaday Mills Rd all the way to the Tar River, on aero bars no less, as we hold onto our helmets!

“Aero bars Alan” pulls us along Cannaday Mills Rd.

Check out Byron’s blog here for an account of the ride and some pictures of a great day on the bikes. Thanks fellows! Oh yeah, it sure is great to have the new kid to hang out and ride with!

Got Time to Kill? Bikes and More Bikes

Randonneur extraordinaire Bill Bryant sent me a link to this Flickr photo album. You didn't really have anything to do at work today, did you?

Audax Atlanta Summer Solstice 300km Brevet, June 20, 2009

From cauldron to fire, riding-buddy Lin and I slipped down from Raleigh to within a stone’s throw of steamy Hotlanta two weekends ago to join up with what proved to be a wonderful group of fun folks on a great “celebratory ride,” as local RBA, Andy Akard, termed it. He was right.

From the very first moment I saw the Summer Solstice 300km posting on the NC Randonneuring listserv, I was intrigued. The brevet would be historical: the first on a closed course utilizing the longest paved rails-to-trails route in the US. The concrete Silver Comet Trail stretches westward from Smyrna, GA (near Atlanta), to the Georgia-Alabama line where it joins the asphalt Chief Ladiga Trail, stretching southwest to its terminus in Anniston, AL. The combined length of the two trails is about a hundred miles, sufficiently long for a 300km out-and-back.

The ride began near the midway point of the combined trails in Cedartown, GA, at the historical train depot. The route first headed east toward Atlanta to the turn-around control at a trail-side bike shop before heading back to the Cedartown train depot. Riders then headed west on a second out-and-back to Anniston, AL, where they briefly left the trail for the turn-around control.

After a pre-ride briefing that included safety tips immanent to the trail, a baker’s dozen 13 riders began heading out a few minutes after 06:00. We threaded our way through town on a clearly marked trail. Once we were out of town, the trail straightened. It was still cool, if you think 70 degrees F is cool.

Enjoying the morning sunrise, we approached the steep hills just east of Cedartown, an obvious deviation from the original railroad bed. As we climbed, so did the temperature with each pedal stroke. The lazy, cool air remained in the valley. Now riding along a ridgeline, we were in full view of the morning sun.

This was the slowest part of the ride. It wasn’t that the hills were too onerous. It was hard to maintain any sort of momentum. The steep descents included sharp turns and often culminated at controlled intersections. I was hoping to average at least a modest 12 mph in order to finish the brevet before dark. After the first hour, with the hills behind me, I’d averaged less than 12 mph.

The trail is extremely well marked with small communities popping up every 8 to 10 miles. Lin and I were amused at the periodic trail sign informing users that the next 10 miles was a “Remote Area.” The signs are actually comforting to randonneurs, who think: “Only 10 miles to the next town!”

The first “next” town was Rockmart with hotels, restaurants, and coffee shops. The trail wound through the middle of town past a park along a stream.

On the next leg of the journey, Lin and I made good time as we crossed the rolling hills west of Atlanta on a former railroad bed—cut through wooded hillsides, including a tunnel—resembling a parkway. By now, my average speed had increased above 12 mph.

At mile 29, just eighteen miles to the turn-around, a group of randonneurs that started a few minutes after us caught us. Lin and I joined their paceline. Our timing was impeccable, since . . .

. . . after just a few minutes, the paceline pulls over for a rest stop, water-bottle refill, and photo-op.

Nearing Smyrna, trail use increased. Already we’d seen a number of pacelines headed toward us. The multi-use trail is intended for walkers, joggers, skaters, and the likes. Dogs on leashes were well healed so as not to interfere with other types of traffic. Even though everyone else seemed accustomed to this type of navigation, I was still learning. Several times I got pinched off from our paceline when I felt I could not safely pass a trail user in my lane with oncoming traffic.

At the control, Lin and I got our cards timed and initialed, purchased some water, hit the restroom, and chatted a few minutes with nearby cyclists. We informed our paceline partners that we would be heading back ahead of them, but “soft pedaling” so that they would catch us. When they caught us, we were accused of anything but “soft pedaling.” Subsequently, soft pedaling became one of the themes of banter for the day.

Our small group remained intact and in good spirits all the way back to Rockmart. A couple of folks, including Lin, went off the front chasing each other up the hills.

Back at Rockmart, three members of our group decided to eat lunch. Lin and I opted out, however. The hills east of Cedartown lay just ahead. We found a small café and ordered bottled water. Upon overhearing the details of our plans we shared with other cyclists in the place, the proprietor offered to fill our Camelbacks with ice, gratis! We tipped him. After a few minutes in air-conditioning and a couple of swigs of endurance drink, Lin and I headed for the hills that separated us from lunch back in Cedartown.

The hills were steeper in this direction. Lin and I witnessed an occasional cyclist, feet on the ground, escorting a bicycle uphill. No shame in that. On the contrary, judging by the diversity of people and the diverse types of cycles we saw, I’m betting the Silver Comet Trail will prove to be a significant incubator for the sport of cycling and the development of local cyclists.

After getting our cards signed and wolfing down turkey and cheese sandwiches awaiting us in the cooler, Lin and I ducked off to a local convenient store. It was there the clerk informed us that the temperature outside was a hundred. We filled our camelbacks with ice, guzzled down a cold drink, and made our way one block to the Silver Comet Trail to head toward Alabama.

When we arrived at the Georgia-Alabama state line, we agreed to the obligatory photograph as an excuse for a rest break.

An hour or so later, Lin and I found ourselves poking along at 12 mph on level terrain in the punishing afternoon heat. We found some shade alongside the trail and rested for a few minutes. After getting back on our bikes, we were overtaken by a reshuffled group of randonneurs, given that three sane riders had opted out at Cedartown.

We regrouped and rode together through the Tallegeda National Forest, which was one of my favorite parts of the ride, given the occasional clear water stream we passed over and the close-up, trail-side greenery.

Later, we found a lemonade stand and stopped for a refreshing break . . .

. . . enjoying ourselves in the shade . . .

. . . in full view of Tallegeda National Forest.

We then pushed on to the turn-around at Anniston, where we decided to escape the heat inside Zaxby’s and enjoy a quick meal before tackling the remaining 47 miles.

Before reentering the Tallegeda Forest, we stopped in Piedmont, AL, to catch the sunset and don reflective gear. Lin noted that the town had come to life, judging from the number of people now enjoying the trail that had been hiding from the heat when we passed earlier in the day.

What a day, seeing the sun both rise and set while on the bike! I enjoyed this stretch of the ride with Tom, here.

Aspects of the last 90 minutes of the ride seemed surreal, if not alien, riding through Tallegeda National Forest and, later, in Georgia, passing ponds each inhabited by a different species of frog. The almost-deafening frog choruses were nothing I’d heard before. Lin noted another spectacle: fireflies congregating in pine tops, their glow illuminating the needles.

By now, you’ve realized that I didn’t manage 12 mph and therefore didn’t make it back to Cedartown by dark.

It is a mistake to overestimate the “easiness” of a closed course. Our hosts reminded us that there is no such thing as an easy 187-mile brevet. If you add a little headwind, raise the temperature to 100 degrees, simmer at high humidity, then you have yourself a nice challenge! This was in fact my slowest 300km.

But I was anything but disappointed. I was excited to learn that there are plans for another Summer Solstice 300km brevet next year!

Congratulations to RBA Andy Akard, pictured here, Richard Beck, Audax Atlanta Randonneurs, and all the riders for a successful and unique Summer Solstice brevet! Thank you for hosting this truly fun, celebratory event. We enjoyed your company.

Andy’s bike agrees. It still has that post-brevet glow.

Fun With Google Maps (and your iPhone)

I recently used my iPhone to take pictures on the way to and from the beach (see this post and that post). The iPhone is GPS-enabled, and the pictures are tagged by location. When they're loaded into a Google Web album, the pictures are tagged along the route so you can see where each was taken.

Here's the link to the image above. Zoom in for a look at where each shot was snapped.

"Over It"

Skillful stunt riding, great editing, and a tongue-in-cheek message about getting older make Dinosaur Jr's latest worth a post.

Beach Ride Part 2

When you ride your bike 165 miles to a convention, everybody is impressed. Gee whiz, you're a hero for a couple days. People marvel at what you've done, and you get to be all false modesty with your it's-really-not-that-far-and-anybody-can-do-it spiel.

But then everybody asks: well, are you going to ride your bike home? Truth be told, the plan was to find somebody with a bike rack and hang it on the back of their car and cruise home in air conditioned, radio blasting comfort. Hero for a day is all you were really after, right sport?

But somewhere along the way, the thinking changes. Yeah, what the hey, ride the bike. Because 11 hours on the bike beats 3 hours in the car any day of the week. That 3-hour car ride will be dull, while a bike ride, no matter how short, always holds the promise of adventure and usually delivers.

And so, I struck out at 4 a.m. yesterday morning and racked up another 170 miles and had a fine time doing it. Pix follow....

Bladenboro estate...



A sunny day. Perfect for sunflowers....




Here's a nest of Bladen County tar snakes.



Ah! Road closed means no traffic for a few miles. You can see the yellow crane in the distance on the second shot. They waved when I came through -- and they knew I was coming, as one of the DOT trucks passed me as I headed toward the closed portion. I actually got on the road between the closed signs because I missed the turn on to River Road and came in on a side road.




This place wasn't scenic enough on the way down so they added hay bales...



Coho at rest...



Which came first, the tree or the shed? Not sure, but yes it grows right out the roof. My camera is going crazy again.



What a nice day for a bike ride....





Corn is ready...



Here comes Amtrak!





Hog Heaven Lane again...



Warren's Cricket Farm is at the end of Hog Heaven....




It faces Bait Road...



Post ride celebration at Raleigh Morning Times...

Sunset Beach

 

Beach Ride / June 19

I must be living right. Forecast for the beach ride called for heat and a headwind. The heat was on, but the wind was out of the northwest all day -- and I was heading southeast. Many low traffic roads and flat terrain made for a leisurely 165 miles. Pix follow:

John Lee Ellis of Last Chance fame always jokes about expanding his territory outside of the Colorado boundaries. Has the land grab begun? Check out that sign I spotted.



Remember me bragging about finding that dirt road while scoping out the route in Google Maps? Well, I missed one. Shoulda known by the name -- Hog Heaven...

Here's the sign....





And the road, which actually was well-packed and dry.


Look familiar? This Civil War cemetery is on our 600K route.


Bad tracks, bad!


The road more traveled. I crossed I-95 just above Fayetteville.


Tobacco, North Carolina's version of Killer Weed.


Cool church...


Cooler church...

Now, where in the hell are my cowboy boots? (Buddy Chip & the Backsliders; great song, dopey home video somebody made)




Scenery along the way...


Bladen County Tar Snakes


Yup, we're in the South...


Looks like I was traveling at warp speed when I snapped a shot of the bridge just before Tar Heel.


Speaking of Tar Heel, here's the town sign. There's a big pig slaughterhouse here -- the biggest in the world, maybe the universe. A dozen trucks hauling pigs or waste passed me on area roads.


Did I mention it was hot? -- 93, according to one bank thermometer, so lots of these along the way...


Here's the Coho chillin in the shade, while I enjoyed an ice cold Perrier, a surprising delight in the convenience store cooler.


Glad I didn't go down rough and ready. Peacock was bad enough...


And did I mention tailwinds?...


I think this is the Waccamaw...


The trees seemed shocked that I made it. No need, a piece of cake.

Another great day on the bike.