3 Bros LLake LLoop

Check out that hand in the photo above. It’s not a pretty picture, but that’s what you’ll end up with following a roadside repair of a broken chain.

Those multi-tools in our seat bags usually include a chain tool. I saw one in action for the first time on Saturday’s Lake Loop. Brother Tim inadvertently crashed his derailleur into his rear wheel. The collateral damage included the derailleur, a snapped chain and a broken spoke, which showed up about 20 miles down the road.

For the third consecutive year, the Dayton Bros. gathered on the last weekend in October for a sibling ride around Buggs Island Lake. A fun time was had by all.

I owe a lot of my cycling success to Brothers Rob & Tim. I give Rob credit for introducing me to my first 10-speed. In 1971 he returned home from the Higgins bike shop in Greensboro with a monster red-black Raleigh Grand Prix. It was the biggest bike I’d ever seen at the time --- probably a 25-inch frame and about two inches too tall for him. It was also the first derailleur bike I’d ever been on. I took it up one hill and I was hooked.

One week later, with paycheck in hand from the Big-T Burger in Clarksville, I visited Higgins and plunked down $375 on a champagne Raleigh International. A few weeks later, Brother Tim did the very same thing. We’d soon do a multi-day tour on those matching bikes.

It saddens me to say those bikes have been retired from active duty: Tim bent the hell out of his in a spectacular head-on crash into a deep ditch. Mine was hit by a motorist during the 1981 NYC transit strike. I still have the frame with a tidy dent in the seat tube. It’s rideable but no longer built up.

Those bikes may be history, but we’re still in the saddle, and those early riding years in the Clarksville area are some of our favorite memories. So it’s fitting that we’ve begun to return there for our annual cycling reunion.

This year’s ride was poised to be our first rain event, but the clouds mercifully lifted by Saturday’s 8:30 a.m. start from the Best Western parking lot in Clarksville. The roads were wet for the first hour but dried rapidly as a 10 mph northwest wind kicked up.

We cruised slowly south toward Oxford, pausing briefly to take pictures of these llamas. I’ve seen them out before on Shiny Rock Road. This is the first time they’ve been over by the fence. LLovely, yes?

After we passed through Stovall, Tim dropped his chain. When he attempted to pedal it back on, something went awry and he pulled the derailleur into his spokes, snapping the chain and putting an impressive crimp in the derailleur body. After a choice cuss word or two, he got to work and in about 15 minutes had shortened the chain and turned the bike into a single speed.


Here we are doing the roadside repair. Me? I offered technical assistance only.

Tim set his Trek up with a 100-inch gear and for the rest of the day didn’t feel comfortable unless he was cranking along at 20 mph. Our casual ride suddenly put on a business suit.

About 20 miles up the road, climbing up from Nutbush Creek, snap went a spoke in Tim’s rear wheel, obviously damaged by the derailleur incident. No worries. I pulled out a spoke wrench, and we managed to get the wobbly wheel to clear the brakes and the chainstays. Tim was not going to be denied by any mechanical woes. Good attitude.

As we headed into Drewry, we met up with the only other cyclist we’d see all day – Bubba, riding a Schwinn with a collection of improvised parts. Bubba was solid on the pedals and easily cruised along with us for several miles. He said he rode about 50 miles a week. I asked about his high visibility hat. He said he used that to keep from being shot by the deer hunters.



About a mile up the road, the hunters appeared. Hmmm. I wonder where I can get one of those hats. Hunters in another truck razzed this fellow about the buck's small size. "That's all right," he said. "The little ones eat, too."



On the east side of Drewry, we made a quick stop at an old bulk barn converted into a General Store. Not much merchandise in there but plenty of country flavor.


On to the dam for the Tres Amigos photo shoot. Can you tell we all go to the same barber?

As usual, our ride coincided with the annual Boydton Day. Sure there’s a parade and lots of music, but we come for the barbecue. Maybe I'm just arriving there at a weak moment, but for my money those are the best barbecue sandwiches I’ve ever eaten – and a bargain at $3.00. I had two, as did Brother Tim. The cue tastes like Piedmont style, but I also detected vinegar, a hallmark of Eastern cue. The pig was being cooked about 50 feet away and I asked about the recipe. “It’s a secret,” the woman said at the barbecue window. “He won’t tell nobody.”

Our bellies full, we cruised up to Skipwith, where Rob began to suffer from the dreaded “dead legs” and took a shortcut back to Clarksville. Tim and I did an out-and-back up to Chase City to turn the 85-mile loop into a century.

We didn’t have quite enough miles as we neared town so we detoured into Clarksville’s Industrial Park (Hey! Where are the businesses?) and then into Occoneechee State Park, a beautiful peninsula of old oaks and rolling fields.

Then we rolled down the hill and across the old bridge, which has finally reopened, and into Clarksville with 100.1 on the odometer, for my third century this month.

After a shower, the Three Bros. and Rob’s wife Susan hit the Pizza Pub for a couple pies, before we went our separate ways.

Thanks, Bros, for another fine day on the bikes. I’m already looking forward to next year’s event.

Notes from Woody in Oz

My good friend Woody and his wife Jane are now living the good life in Byron Bay, Australia.


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Byron Bay is a small beach town that’s renowned for its hippie vibe. Just how hip? When we were there in 2001, they turned down Bob Dylan’s request to play for fear he’d draw too big of a crowd.

The easternmost point on mainland Australia, Byron Bay is blessed with several surf breaks, including Tallows, Wategoes and the Pass. Byron'spoint breaks, which feature rolling waves that curl into several sheltered coves, are a longboarder’s mecca, rivaling Malibu in California with rides of 400 yards or more. The Pass is very family-friendly; it’s not unusual to see Mom and Daughter paddling out for a morning session.

On two trips to Byron Bay, both times with Woody, we spent a good portion of our time surfing there, either on the longboard breaks or on the steeper east-facing beach break of Tallows or Cozy Corner. Several longboard manufacturers have set up shop in Byron. Woody, friend Brian and son Daniel have boards that were shaped there.

Woody has returned to Byron several times and just settled in for a six-month stay with Jane. He’s been sending along regular surf reports. He also sent along this story of a shark attack at The Pass. Did I mention Woody is a talented writer?

Crikey!

A local woman was attacked by a shark on Monday while paddling a surf ski right off the beach here at Byron Bay. Fortunately, she was not seriously hurt. She and her husband told news reporters about how a 1.8 meter-long White Pointer lunged at her, but she was able to stop the beast with her paddle, suffering a few wrist and arm lacerations in the process. The Byron Bay police and lifeguards cleared the beach, and for a day all news of the pending Parliamentary and prime minister elections took a back seat to the story of the brave Byron Bay woman who fought off the shark and has vowed to return to the water as soon as the bandages come off.

The attack happened about 150 meters off the beach at a spot called The Pass, which is one of my favorite surf spots in all of Australia. I had checked the surf there just an hour before the attack and had decided not to go out. The Pass is a peaceful spot in the heart of Byron Bay. It's the kind of place where mums sit with their legs spread wide at the water's edge, cradling their nappie-clad toddlers as they splash in the surge. For surfers, The Pass is about as safe as it gets. The only danger is the environmental threat posed by what might be seeping out of those nappies.

This incident was a little disconcerting to me. I know about sharks. I know that in Australia, shark attacks only happen in the far south, where Great Whites thrive in the cold water eating seal pups and penguins. The smaller sharks here in the temperate middle of the country don't bother people, unless you happen to be spearfishing and pulling a string of bloody mackerel at your side.

The next day was Tuesday, and there was no way to pretend that the shark was still out there. News reports said that the shark had been "ushered" out to sea, whatever that means. But on Tuesday the surf was good, and people were returning to the water. I figured there were enough other people in the water to improve my odds of not being the one hit. I suspect others were thinking the same thing. But while the surf had gotten bigger overnight, so had the shark. The White Pointer had become a Great White Shark in the American news reports, and it had grown from 1.8 meters to 3 meters as the story continued to be told.

I was surfing around the cape from The Pass, at a spot called Cozy Corner, because of the rock outcrops and sheltering headland that protects the waves from northerly winds. The water was clear, and I could see the shadow of my surfboard on the bottom. Other surfers remarked on this. Murky water is where you are most likely to be hit by a shark. If a shark can see you, the reasoning goes, then they will know better than to bite you. So, as the news spun the shark story into something bigger than it was, we surfers were engaged in our own magical thinking, to make it smaller and more remote.

The sun was shining, and the waves were as pretty as the water. They were only about waist high, but they were breaking with the sewing machine-like precision that surfers dream about, and as soon as you finished one ride you could hop on another. If you're a snow skier, imagine fresh powder and no lift lines. It was that kind of day.

But Cozy Corner is a safe distance from The Pass, where the attack had happened. On Wednesday, the only spot with good surf was The Pass, right where the shark had last been seen. It was not a pretty day. The wind was howling out of the south, making The Pass the only surfable spot in the area. I went out late in the afternoon, again rationalizing that having other surfers in the water would make it safer for me to be out. The sun was beginning to set, and the water became darker. As I was paddling back out after a ride, I spotted Toshi, who operates a local surf shop with her husband, Michael. I said hello to her, and she started talking about the shark. She knew the woman who had been attacked and knew all the details. "It happened right over there," she said, pointing to a spot less than 100 feet from where we sat. "This kind of water is the worst. It's so murky."

Her teenaged son was surfing with her. The sun was setting, the water was getting darker, but they kept right on surfing. "It wasn't a Great White," she continued. "It was a White Pointer." That made everything right.

By Friday the winds had subsided, the waters calmed, and for the first time since the attack the water at The Pass was clear, sparkling and inviting. Families were spread along the beach, and kiddies of all ages were splashing about in the water. Two mothers watching their kids in the surf were talking about the shark attack that already seemed like ancient history. "It happened up the beach at Wategos," I overheard one of them say. "It will be a long time before I go back in the water at Wategos."

Chicken Stories: Siler City Express / Oct. 20, 2007

“The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind.” -- Bob Dylan

And the question is: what were those cyclists doing on yesterday’s Siler City permanent?

It was truly an odd wind day on the 200K Siler City Express. We had a tailwind as we headed through the rolling hills of the Uwharries. We hit the turnaround, reversed course and voila: tailwinds. Nature is magic, no?

Only on a few stretches where we angled due north did we have the wind in our teeth. And then, who was complaining? Not me. Not Joe. Not Wes. The weather was too damned nice for griping, with temps in the high 70s, buckets of sunshine and low humidity. The prolonged Indian Summer has turned into the Indian Fall.

The ride had been scheduled by Paul P, and we picked an 8 a.m. start. But 8 a.m. came and went. No Paul. So we shoved off at 8:10 as a trio rather than a quartet. We’d eventually see Paul heading out when we were on le retour. He was 40 miles behind us at that point. A house full of flu was to blame for his late start, he said.

For those who don’t know the Siler City Express, the route tracks the crème de la crème of N.C.’s brevet series. The first leg of the course runs from Siler City to Coleridge, through Erect and up 705, the “Pottery Highway” into Seagrove. That’s not to be confused with the “Pot Highway,” which runs into the heart of Asheville’s Bead and Candle District. It was the perfect stretch to hear of JoeRay’s flirtation with a new carbon bike. Apparently, while the store price couldn’t be beat, the true cost might be his marriage. By the end of the ride, it was clear he'd turned chicken. Peace in the home roost: priceless.


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The Seagrove control is at the Hardees, where two bacon, egg and cheese biscuits were on special for $2.19. At that price, you can feed em to the ducks. Since there were no ducks hanging around, we were forced to down em ourselves.

The route heads to the Black Ankle crossroads and into Uwharrie National Forest, through Ophir and the crossroads of Uwharrie.

The Uwharrie hills are joyfully painful. JoeRay recorded a 14.3 percent grade on Flint Hill Road. Climbing over the entire route averages about 500 feet per 10 miles, roughly the same as PBP. Roads are mainly chip & seal and car traffic is extremely light. Development is apparently restricted in this area although we saw several new homesites on the edge of the forest.

The warm weather brought out our state reptile in droves. We saw several Eastern Box Turtles, aka Terrapene Carolina, crossing the road. I stopped to move one big fellow out of harm’s way. His front door hissed shut when I picked him up.

The Eastern Box Turtle was designated North Carolina’s official reptile in 1979 by H.B. 384. Whoever wrote the legislation had a sharp eye and a sharper sense of humor. Check out the preamble:

WHEREAS, the turtle is a most useful creature who serves to control harmful and pestiferous insects, and acts as one of nature's clean-up crew, helping to preserve the purity and beauty of our waters; and

WHEREAS, the turtle is derided by some who have missed the finer things of life, but in some species has provided food that is a gourmet's delight; and

WHEREAS, the turtle, which at a superficial glance appears to be a mundane and uninteresting creature, is actually a most fascinating creature, ranging from species well adapted to modern conditions to species which have existed virtually unchanged since prehistoric times; and

WHEREAS, the turtle watches undisturbed as countless generations of faster hares run by to quick oblivion, and is thus a model of patience for mankind, and a symbol of this State's unrelenting pursuit of great and lofty goals; and

WHEREAS, the woodlands, marshes, and inland and coastal waters of North Carolina are the abode of many species of turtles; Now, therefore,

The General Assembly of North Carolina enacts:
Section 1. G.S. Chapter 145 is amended by adding a new section as follows:

"§ 145-9. State reptile.— The turtle is adopted as the official State reptile of the State of North Carolina, and the eastern box turtle is designated as the emblem representing the turtles inhabiting North Carolina."

The Uwharrie leg of our course eventually popped out of the trees for an eight-mile stretch on River Road to the turnaround. Even on a relatively cool day, you’re in for a baking. Like an oven roaster.

One big drawback to the route are a dozen poultry operations that vent ammonia gas into the valleys. If hell is a slaughterhouse, the waiting room is the factory chicken farm. Isn’t factory farm an oxymoron?


Of course, the chicken tastes better than it smells, especially when it’s between a bun and topped with lettuce and tomato. Like the sandwich JoeRay had when we hit the Hardees for lunch. Wes and I had the burgers. Everybody got a shake. JoeRay bought. Observant readers will note Wes is wearing the official PBP jersey from Australia. At this very moment, a rider in Oz is sporting the official RUSA jersey.

We rolled into Siler City at 4:52. I was back home at 6:10 and out to the movies by 7:15. The evening’s bill: King of California, where the featured restaurant was McDonald’s, not Hardees, and the only chicken in sight was the child who feared for her father’s sanity. Yeah, the same old story, with Wilco’s California Stars playing over the closing credits.

In the News: Vélib Bikes

The New York Times has an article in today's edition about the Vélib bike program in Paris. When we were in Paris, we saw the bikes all over the city. It was clear the program was wildly successful.

From the article:

Twelve weeks after the introduction of the Vélib, 15,000 bikes have been put into service at more than 1,000 stations. In that time Vélibiens (or Vélibeurs or perhaps Vélibistes) have checked out bicycles almost six million times and ridden them an estimated 7.5 million miles.

The Vélib system is simple. You swipe a credit card in a kiosk that is located beside a row of parked bikes and purchase a one-day, one-week or one-year subscription.... When you've reached your destination, you look for the nearest Vélib station, click your bike into an empty dock, watch a light change from yellow to green to acknowledge that you've returned your bike, and you're done.

One bit of good news: some American credit cards now work at the kiosks. Ours did not because they did not have a small embedded computer chip, a puce, embedded in the plastic to trigger the kiosk's release mechanism.

"From Bethel To Appomattox"

I use the inscription on this Confederate monument in Boydton as an information control for the Lake Loop Permanent. It reads: "From Bethel To Appomattox."


In the picture above, Dean and Chuck record the inscription on their control cards. So what does it mean?

Enter Branson Kimball, our resident Civil War buff. He posted this history lesson on the N.C. randon listserv.

The inscription on Mike's information control in Boydton sounds strange. A Biblical name and a Native American name joined together, placed on a war memorial. What's the significance? Here's some background if you're curious.

Bethel refers to the skirmish of "Big Bethel Church" near Hampton, Virginia. It is widely recognized as the first battlefield meeting between Federal and Confederate troops in The War Between The States, taking place on June 10, 1861. 3,500 Union troops, under the command of General Ebenezer Pierce, marched on a force of 1,200 entrenched Confederates, led by Colonel Daniel Harvey Hill. Ineffectual leadership among the attackers wasted their numerical advantage.

Those missteps, coupled with a determined rebel force, resulted in a quick Confederate victory. 18 Federal troops died before they retreated, while a single North Carolinian was killed in the Confederate ranks. It was a public relations disaster for the Union, bolstering hopes across the South that independence was achievable.

Of course, Appomattox needs much less explanation. On April 9th, 1865, after a brief early morning showdown near the small town of Appomattox Court House, Confederate General Robert E. Lee surrendered his Army of Northern Virginia to Union General Ulysses S. Grant. Contrary to popular belief, it was not the surrender of all Confederate forces, but only those under Lee's command.

From Bethel to Appomattox -- the first battle and the last battle in the great state of Virginia. This simple inscription can be found on many Southern monuments, but in Boydton, it honors the citizens of Mecklenburg County who answered the call of their state, during our country's darkest days.

Thanks for that, Branson. I'll do my best to hunt down another historic marker as the next information control. I've already got one in mind...

Randonneurs who like a little history with their rides should check this blog post about our 600K, which passes one of North Carolina's battlefields.

"Just Like Paris..."

Branson is becoming my favorite video subject. I shot this footage on last Saturday's Lake Loop, as we took our obligatory photo stop.

Listen as he discusses the speedy dogs on last month's permanent. Branson had no complaints about the pace this time. The day was magnificent, and as Capn Ende once said, why rush a masterpiece?

In the Blogs

Yo A: Bike Celebrity
North Carolina’s very own “Yo” Adrian makes an appearance – or at least, his head does – in the picture at the top of the Daily Randonneur. See if you can spot Adrian here.

Path to Enlightenment
Newly transplanted SIR rider Chuck Lathe has found a lot to love about his new home in Randolph County. That includes what he says is enlightened local bike planning. Lots of signs mark various bike routes in his area. Check out his posting here.

Pushing the Envelop
Out in Oregon, Dave Rowe has an interview with Greg Paley, who rode a featherweight, full-carbon, BMC SLC 01 Pro Machine on this summer’s Glacier 1000K. Paley “carried only what he could wear or stuff in his wedge pack, pockets and small Camelback,” Rowe reports, and was the event’s first finisher. In an email, Rowe told me:

“I think he'll be slammed by the traditionalists, but at the same time, I think what he is doing is going to have an impact on what we ride in 2008.”

Paley’s philosophy in many ways mirrors my own evolution in equipment and bike choice. However, I spot one potential catastrophe in his set-up: his low-spoke wheels. A very poor choice, in my experience. I broke a spoke on a set like that in an around-town ride. The bike was unrideable, and I had to call the wife for a pick-up. I’ve also seen these wheels put a NY rider in the DNF column during one of our 600Ks. So Greg, you might want to rethink that choice.

I’d be interested to hear of similar wheel failures.

Wedding Bells

It's official: Raleigh RBA Alan Johnson tied the knot Friday night to his sweetheart, Dorothy Jones.

Several of the local rando riders turned out to toast Al with his very own home-brewed beer. On hand for the festivities: Adrian, Sridhar, Tony, best man Mike O and the tandem team of Chet and Cyndy.

There apparently is no truth to a rumor that Al sought to safeguard his RBA status by an ironclad pre-nuptial agreement.


While cycling may no longer be Al's first love, rest assured he has not forgotten his cycling roots. The proof: His new custom wedding ring is made of ..... drumroll.... Titanium.

Congratulations Al & Dorothy!

Lake Loop Oct 13 2007

Sure it's the same old Loop. As JoeRay pointed out we've done the 130-mile course exactly 3.5 zillion times. But on Saturday's ride, we found ways to make it new.

The result: a very leisurely 200K, complete with a sit-down lunch at Rose's in Boydton. Table for nine, please! Along for the ride were (l-r above): Charles, Bob, JoeRay, Dean, Lin, Branson, Jerry, Byron and yours truly.

The best new improvement: Catering by Branson & Jerry. True to his word, Branson showed up with a bulging bag of pain au chocolat, while Jerry served up the cafe au lait. For a moment, we were transported back to France for our very first le petit déjeuner au tailgate. Thanks, guys!


Here's our newest N.C. rider, Charles Lathe, a transplanted SIR rider who has settled in Randolph County. We're glad to have him -- Seattle's loss is our gain. The owner and one-man builder of Coho Bicycles, Charles rode one of his own lugged steel creations and we had a fine time admiring the details and set-up.



Speaking of rides, here's Jerry's new Mongoose. Also, Jerry had on a new (to me) Houston Randonneurs jersey. Gotta love that bug-eyed dog!


Here's another view. "Houston, we have a problem (pet)."



Not to be outdone, JoeRay had another new clothing purchase to show off: His Curious George t-shirt like the one the lady was wearing last month in Clarksville. We like em so much, this may become the official Lake Loop Team Issue T-Shirt.



Something else new: I moved the control from Uppy's in Clarksville to the Skipwith Grocery. The Grocery is the only business in town besides the Post Office. It's a little smoky inside, but even so made for a more relaxed stop. The locals seemed genuinely interested in what we were up to. Click on the picture and check out that hand-painted sign.


Here we are in loitering mode.

For those who can't get enough of a good time, here's the slideshow. Enjoy!

In the Mail: R-5000 Medal

Sweet! After months of eager anticipation, it's finally here.

The R-5000 medal. It took me three years to bag this elusive trophy.

Here's how the award is described on RUSA's Web site:

In 1961, the Audax Club Parisien created an award for those randonneurs who have completed 5000 km in BRM events. It is called the Randonneur 5000. To qualify for this award, the successful randonneur must complete the full BRM series (200, 300, 400, 600, and 1000k), a Paris-Brest-Paris, a Flèche Vélocio and additional brevets to bring the total distance up to 5000 km.

I began my quest in August 2003, when I first completed Paris Brest Paris, and sealed the deal in August 2006 by completing a 1,000k at BMB.

So what now? Oh, yeah. Get to work on R-5000 #2.

The fun never stops!

Thanks to SIR member Peter Beeson for his efforts in getting the medals in the mail.

Looking for a winter cycling vacation?

This note from Puerto Rico RBA William Medina arrived in my e-mailbox today. Looks like fun....

On January 24-27, 2008, San Juan Cycling Club will be presenting the recreational, non-competitive cyclist with a three day cycling event known as the Lighthouse Cycling Tour (3 days, 375 miles, 9 historical lighthouses). As the name suggests, for three days, we will be cycling around the island of Puerto Rico highlighting nine lighthouses strategically located around the coast.

We will be showcasing the foothills of the El Yunque Rain Forest, marinas, quiet nestled towns such as Naguabo, Yabucoa and Maunabo, a night stay over Ponce, the second largest city of Puerto Rico, the plains of Lajas and another night stay over in Rincon packed with its world class surfing beaches. In the north coast Jobos, Puerto Nuevo and other beaches, rivers, karst formations and the historical stone paved streets of Old San Juan will serve as a closing reminder of what a beautiful island we have.

The purpose of this note is to invite you to visit the Lighthouse Cycling Tour website where you will find all the information you need to come visit us in January. By the way, January can't be a better time to visit our island since we expect great weather, sunny days and a hospitable crowd of local cyclist looking forward to sharing three days of pure cycling with you all. So, take a glance at your calendar, and start making arrangements to spend a few days with us. This tour is a great way to see the island on a bike while the rest of your family can choose to follow us around or better yet, relax in the next hotel while we ride in. Don't forget to leave behind your warmers and all the foul weather gear while packing your jersey with suntan lotion and a camera. We guarantee you will leave our island with lifetime memories.

Hope to see you all ...

William A. Medina
RBA Puerto Rico
San Juan Cycling Club