Carolina Crossroads Checkout Ride

The Carolina Crossroads route for Saturday's ride is now ready to go. The checkout ride has been completed, the cue sheet has been double-checked, and the bonus miles have been ridden so you that don't have to.

Geof, Lynn and I christened the Carolina Crossroads permanent yesterday, striking out for new destinations under deep blue autumn skies. The route is surprisingly quiet, even into and out of downtown Raleigh, and the portions south of Benson are nearly desolate. It's the kind of backroad riding that I like best. We battled a headwind to the turnaround at the Crossroads Grocery & Grill. The grocery and grill are being renovated and both are currently closed, but we talked to the owners and they said they'd be on hand with sodas and snacks for Saturday's ride.

By afternoon, the sky had clouded up and taken on the mantle of winter but the temperatures remained perfect, and we warmed up nicely after each stop. We came back into town as darkness fell for about 11 total hours. A great day on the bikes; thanks to Lynn and Geof for the company. These pix were taken along the way.

Details on Saturday's rides:

200K: Carolina Crossroads 200K: Time 7 a.m. / Leave from Natty Greene's in Raleigh. Fee: $10 (to be used for party expenses)

100K: Dean's Benson Mule Pull. Time: 9 a.m./ Leave from Swift Creek Coffee House in Garner. Fee: $10 (to be used for party expenses).

Please let us know ASAP if you are riding so we can prepare cards, etc.

Al's Picnic Ride 10-15-11

This picture was stolen from Dr. Keith. I'm glad he's a doctor
and not a lawyer who might sue me for a copyright violation.

I reached the highwater mark of my working life back in high school, when I flipped grilled meat at the Big-T Burger in Clarksville, Virginia. The restaurant is long gone. Sadly, it has been converted into a laundromat, and the big boys, McDonald's and Hardees, have shuffled in to take its place. That's a shame, but even the Golden Arches can't rob me of my golden memories. Because when this boy met grill, the magic happened. It's true what they say -- a short order cook has such a supple wrist, and in my own deep-fried coming-of-age epiphany, I realized that we were selling the sizzle, not the steak.

Once a year or so, I get to relive those glory days, when Fearless Leader Al or ROMA RBA Matt Settle turns me loose on a gas-fired altar and lets me lord it over the open flames, flipping burgers for my riding buddies. I am transformed: Grill.Effin.Master.

Saturday was a glorious day. Thirty-five randonneurs under a deep blue sky, puffy clouds, perfect temps -- but enough about the bike ride already. The main attraction was a propane gas grill about the length of a 1967 Buick, with a glorious side burner for baked beans. I had my way with 8 boxes of Bubba Burgers (slogan: "You'll never bite a burger better than a Bubba!"), each one a 1/3-lb slab of juicy, 100% USDA choice chuck. The flames leaped three feet high, curled the hair off my arm, each time hot grease hit the flames. I roasted the red right out of a dozen red hots. I had Boca veggie burgers begging for mercy. I showed none.

Now, I'm not saying these were the greatest burgers I've ever flipped, but I did see a couple patrons swoon, although that may have been caused by a slight propane leak.

Thanks to all for a great day on the grill. Thanks to Al for hosting. Let's do it again next year.

Salisbury 300K -- July 2

Halfway up Oklahoma Road in Alleghany County, I was grateful I'd signed up for the 300K, not one of the two longer events, the 400K or the 600K, offered by Tony G on July 2. It was still dark when I began the five-mile climb, so I couldn't really see how steep this section of Oklahoma Road was. What I knew for certain was that some cyclists had selected walking -- what Spencer calls the 24 inch (2 feet) gear -- as the better choice for reaching the top.

That short painful stretch up Oklahoma Road would be the steepest pitch we'd see, but it was one of many hills to confront us and wear us down on the 190-mile course. What were the guys on the longer rides seeing?

Like many of the U.S. riders heading to PBP, I've opted for the nighttime or evening start, so Tony G's weekend of rides, with a full range of distances, was a good dress rehearsal. We struck out from Salisbury at midnight after a short speech by Tony about a few of the bigger climbs and descents we'd see. I chose the 300K distance as the long training ride I needed for PBP. If all went well, I'd still make it home for dinner on Saturday evening.

The usual suspects came out for the fun and games, including: Chris and Annette and Jimmy, who signed up for the 200K; Branson, Lynn, Joel, Jerry, Steve, John O and [edit] John P on the 300; Geof, Tim and Bryan on the 400K; and Vance, Woody G and Phil C on the 600K. I also spent a good deal of the night riding with Taylor from Ohio.

At the top of Oklahoma we joined Highway 21 for 12 mile run to a control on the far side of Sparta. The control had a cafe and we refueled with coffee and eggs and bacon. The sun was up now, and so were our spirits. We knew we'd have some rollers before dropping out of the steep stuff and into the more forgiving foothills.

 

I rode much of the ride with Steve and Joel and finished with Lynn and the amazing Branson on fixed gear. Our crew separated through the hilly sections but regrouped in Jonesville at the Southern Belle's Restaurant for a delicious lunch. Joel may have been slightly delirious at this point for he insisted I take a picture of the men's room for the blog. Joel, this one's for you.

We finished in mid afternoon and showered off using a garden house at the Windsong Bike Shop.

After a day of rest on Sunday, Lynn and I tackled Black Creek on July 4, giving me a 500K weekend. My PBP training over the few remaining weekends will likely include back-to-back 200Ks.

On the bike front, lots of new equipment has been installed, and all is good except for the rear wheel I built, which is a little creaky under load in the lowest gears. I'm going to stress the spokes a bit on the drive side and grease them a bit to see if that cures it.

Another great day, or 2, on the bikes.

A few more pix below...

Scenes from Mountain Training Camp

Scenes from mountain training we do in advance of big events like PBP. Temps were much cooler than the flatlands with lots of shade and plenty of challenging climbs, like the one up 226A to Little Switzerland....

Choosing Roads

Given a choice, would you spend 60 miles on quiet, two-lane backroads or on this boring, four-lane highway, sharing the asphalt with some truck traffic but also having exclusive use of a wide, smooth shoulder?

Sometimes boring is the way to go.

On yesterday's trip from Wilmington to Raleigh, I opted for four hours of four-lane travel up Highway 421 to Clinton, where I switched over to Highway 701.

Normally, I'm a backroads kinda guy. But not yesterday. Fact is, I came down on the back roads, mainly Bike Route 5, and I'm tired of that route. It's the one we have used for years on our 600K. It has extended sections of rough chip and seal, and then there's a pocketapocketapocketa 19 mile stretch down Highway 53 after you pass through White Lake. It's a toin coss  whether you'll lose your eyeteeth or your sanity. 

The Deaner!

The ride to the beach was for a work convention, and it was a good opportunity to shake out any kinks in new components I've installed on my PBP bike. Those include new wheels, tires, cassette (thanks Bob B!), chainrings and bottom bracket. (All went fine but it appears the left crank arm moved out slightly on the axle. I'm going to reinstall this week.) The highlight of the outward leg was running into Dean near the finish of one of his populaires. Small world!

I did not fully trace our 600K route. In the town of Currie, I turned right onto Blueberry Road, and that put me on to 421 for a 12 mile run into Wilmington. That portion of 421 is actually signed as Bike Route 5, and the shoulder is plenty ample for biking, although shoulder debris and traffic picked up considerably about two miles from Wilmington. Still, I felt comfortable on the way down, so I began contemplating the return trip back up that same road. Why turn off on Blueberry Road again when I could simply chug on up the highway to Clinton, about the halfway point between Wilmington and Raleigh? The return trip would be 130 miles, according to Google Maps, rather than the 165 miles required for the White Lake route. And nearly all the traffic that used to head to the beach on 421 would be on the newer, faster I-40, which runs parallel a few miles to the east.

One of Map app turn-by-turn directions.

I used a Google Map app for the iPhone to generate a cue sheet. However, it really wasn't all that useful, and it doesn't appear to give the turn by turn maps that are available on the resident Maps feature on the iPhone. That acts more like a true GPS, displaying your position as a blinking blue dot and giving you a detailed look at each turn as you advance the directions one by one. There is no biking option on that map, so I used the walking one. The image shows one of those turns.

The route to Clinton was superb, even after the road turned to a two lane about 20 miles out of Wilmington. I still enjoyed a nice wide shoulder and the trucks that passed, cargo trailers from Wilmington's port or livestock transporters, were all courteous. The only drawback on this portion of the route was the heavy smoke in the air from a nearby wildfire. 

Once I got into Clinton, the bypass route I stayed on was joined by Highway 701, the speed limit jumped to 65 and the shoulder had a rumble strip. That meant for about 6 miles I had about 18 inches of pavement to work with, and there was often lots of debris. Finally, 701 split off, but it was a two lane road with a shoulder that carried a lot of end-of-day traffic. After stopping for a soda and ice cream, I used Google Maps to generate a side-road route the rest of the way home.

I found a small barn in Sampson County, just below Newton Grove, to wait out a massive thunderstorm, and that cooled the evening off, making for a pleasurable ride for the last 40 miles. Here's a shot after the storm.

With another big storm approaching, and the rain beginning to fall, I found a grill in Meadow Village for a quick cheeseburger and two Mountain Dews.

Traffic picked up as I came up Cleveland Road, approaching Highway 50. Subdivisions have sprung up out that way that put pressure on what were once empty farm roads. Drivers were courteous with the exception of two carloads of teenagers.

Once I hit 50, it was smooth sailing through Garner and into Raleigh. I've ridden those roads many times, and there is comfort in knowing the little climbs and the stoplights and the busy stretches. But there is also adventure in trying out new roads, like 421, and in navigating on the fly. I arrived home at 11 p.m., for a 9.5 hour trip and another great day on the bike. 

Yanceyville Ramble 200K

An ideal day for a 200K into the quiet, rolling roads of north central North Carolina. This was one of the most pleasurable rides I've been on in a while. Branson's Yanceyville Ramble 200K, which he adopted and adapted when John M went to New Zealand, launches from a Cracker Barrel off I-85 in Durham. A plate of pancakes, then four miles of urban riding before we spill out in the countryside. The route has shallow hills for 30 miles, but that changes when on Gunn Poole Road, and its three sisters, who have more temper on the return trip, especially sister #2, who kicks up angrily on the bottom section. I hit 41.3 mph rolling down on the way out, which gives you some idea of the steepness. You'll also encounter hills before Yanceyville, the home of Gilbert's North Road's Bike Shop, and hills around Hyco Lake. Several flat sections provide recovery time. The turnaround takes you to a restaurant which serves good burgers. Jerry bought and he is our new best friend. Wes pushed the pace on the way home, and we had to work to catch him after he dropped us going up a long grade on Pleasant Green Road. He is in exceptionally fine form this season. The cicadas were out again this weekend with their background music on several sections. Clouds in the morning and tailwinds, patches of sun in the afternoon and a bottle of Cheerwine at the finish made for a very fine day on the bikes. Branson has posted the ride stats, including his ride to and from the finish. There appears to be about 6,000 feet of climbing on the route.

The Year of the Cicada

For a while, I thought I was going mad on last Saturday's Lake Loop. From deep in the woods I thought I heard the background hum of a million cars or perhaps one very large UFO. Didn't anyone else hear it? Well, yes, they did. This is the year of the cicadas. There are millions of them around now, vibrating furiously and creating an eerie environmental rumble.

Listen to this video I shot and you can hear what the world sounded like for a good chunk of Saturday's ride (the rising sound near the end is an approaching motorcycle).

We only heard them on the North Carolina side of Kerr Lake, and I now understand why. They are spreading slowly from south to north and hadn't yet moved up into Virginia. The lake probably acts as a natural barrier to slow their northward advance.

A very good article about the cicadas appeared in today's New York Times, explaining the bugs' 13 year cycle. A couple paragraphs from that article:

This is a “cicada year,” one of nature’s stranger, creepier rituals. Since last month, the little black bugs with beady red eyes and wings have begun emerging by the millions — some scientists say billions — from beneath the ground in 15 states, where they have been waiting since 1998. They emerged first in Georgia and Alabama and are now working their way through Tennessee and Virginia. Soon they will appear as far north as Iowa.

What it means for humans is not much. Cicadas do not bite. They do not harm crops. But they buzz with the volume of a rattling car engine, land on people and generally evoke disgust. And this particular bunch of cicadas, known as the Great Southern Brood, is the largest cyclical population in the world.

  

Tim's Texas Stampede 1200K Ride Report

Our very own Tim, just back from a successful completion of theTexas Stampede 1200K, sent this along for posting. Enjoy!

Wow, where to begin.  This is by far the most epic thing I’ve ever done.  I was on the last 5 mile stretch with Kevin and I looked over and said “I’ll never be more of a man than I was over the last 4 days”.   He laughed and said he’d use the quote in his blog.

My wonderful wife Susan, her mom and I drive to Texas in Susan’s new car. They have family in Grandbury near the event.  I visit and they spend the week there. They escort me to Waxahachie Tuesday afternoon for registration and inspections.  I meet my buddy Geoff from Cary there and we tag along with others to some Italian cuisine for carbo loading.  I sit beside Dave and Judith from England as we have a bloody good time discussing past events.  This is like their 18th 1200K event but their first in the states.

(Waxahachie to Marble Falls)  (Mile 0 to 225)

We gather Wednesday morning at 5am.  56 riders will start the event.  50 are doing the 1200K while 6 are riding a 1000K.  The flags are already at full salute.  We are traveling 225 miles to Marble Falls.  Our heading is southwest.  The first day forecast is for 20 mph SW winds gusting to 30+.  They are also throwing in heavy rains, severe thunderstorms and large hail for the afternoon.  The gun fires, the clock starts and I’m rolling along nervously second guessing my being here.  A while later Geoff coaxes me to the front of the pack while he and I lead the herd for several miles as we’re proudly sporting our NC rando jerseys.  I eventually get wise, go to the back and stay there for the rest of the day/night.  They have intentions of keeping us all together to the first control at mile 73 but the headwinds are shredding us all apart.  The peloton containing +/-30 riders is where I spend most of the day.  Around mile 100 or so some riders start leaving the peloton as the big group takes an extended unscheduled rest stop.  I stay conservative and stay with the herd.  The big guys, including myself are struggling a bit more in the winds.

Clouds are getting angry now.  People start peeling off the back of the peloton and finally it’s my turn to sit up and ride solo a bit.  I roll in to the next control at mile 141 and everyone in front of me is there except for one dude who is just way out there. As I roll in they point behind me and I turn to see black clouds.  The organizer is attempting to hold everyone there while this super cell blows past.  Lots of heavy rain, wind, lightning for about 30 min.  We leave out as the worst is over.  Some minor flooding on the roads as one cyclist goes down crossing water.   I’m cruising along with the peloton to the next control in Jonestown mile 194.  Rainy and getting dark now as we have long climbs and a fast decent into town on a big 4 lane road.  The local police are not happy with us on this road and when we stop they relay their concerns.  They finally realize we have no choice and decide to just escort us out of town.  They also relay to us that Marble Falls is currently getting severe lightning, large hail and 60 mph winds. We’re just idiots on a bike. Party on!

I have a mechanical leaving town and lose the group.  A few more miles and boom!  The lightning becomes frequent enough that I don’t need a headlight.  Winds are gusting fairly hard now and the rain begins as I see a church ahead on the right.  I see a fellow cyclist under a side porch and I also here him calling out.  This is where I first spend time with my new friend Kevin from Southern California.  We wait out the storm on picnic tables under the porch.  One other rider joins us briefly.  It also hails for about 5 minutes before things start to quiet down.  After a few we mount the bikes and continue on.  We reach Marble Falls at 12:40 am.  Dinner is waiting, lasagna and spaghetti.  They take our bikes and our drop bags to the room while we eat.  The volunteers here are second to none!  A quick shower and to bed at 2:00 am.

(Marble Falls to Sealy)  (Mile 225 to 466)

Alarm goes off at 4:00 am.  Oh good, 2 hours sleep!  Breakfast in the lobby as I whip up a big’ol waffle!  Our heading today is mostly East towards Houston after a tad bit more south.  Weather board is giving us 10 to 20 mph East winds today, not to mention severe storms, torrential rains, large hail and damaging winds.  There are some very long faces this morning as we are in for another long day of headwinds.  I head out before 5:00 am, a few minutes before the peloton as I’m hoping for a few miles of soft pedaling.  A nice 2 mile section of gravel road this morning, doesn’t ride much different than their asphalt.  I ride with Spencer from Missouri a bit this morning.  He is riding a fixed gear bike.  There’s a show-off in every crowd.  Spencer rode with some NC randos a few weeks ago so I chatted with him about the ride.  He and Branson are my new heroes.  These guys are bad a$$.  We hit some 15% climbs this morning with switchbacks and he has to walk a couple of the elbow turns but still beats me to the top.  By the next control mile 262, Dripping Springs, I’m hanging out with the peloton.  There we are told another super cell weather system is bearing down on us.  We are also given a two hour buffer on our control times today, BUT the 90 hour ride limit will NOT be extended.  We continue on under darkening skies.  Sometime late morning the crap hits the fan.  The winds are swirling and there is a sudden 15 degree temperature drop.  Lightning bolt on the right as I slide over a few feet left, then a bolt on the left as I slide back to the right, then bolts all around, raining sideways.  I keep looking up watching for something worse.  The storm is relentless; riders are confused about what to do.  A few see a house with a back porch.  I don’t see another refuge.  It's raining harder as I can barely make out a half dozen riders still in front of me.  Someone up front yells “stay on the bike”.  I actually feel safer on the bike as to putting my foot down so I mosey on.  Lightning is so close my skin crawls.  Finally the worst passes on and we breathe a sigh of relief.  I’m wondering if there is an extra fee for all this.  After all that the remainder of the day seems a void.  The temps stay in the 50s and I barely have enough clothes.  At one control the C store owner is emptying trash cans and I steal one of his new trash bags and stuff it in my pocket for later on.  At a control in Lockhart, mile 353, I have my first “Whataburger”.  I’m late getting there so I eat hurriedly as the group is about to leave.  I cruise some more with the group.  There is a little café at mile 383 that is known by the local randos so one of the local riders’ phones in an order for us and it’s all waiting for us when we get there.  It’s dark now and sleep deprivation sets in.  The group is getting a little uneasy, cranky and a little short tempered with each other.  Judith from England caps it all with “I’m getting bloody bored with this”. I chuckle, but keep to myself for the rest of the evening.  I’m really struggling to stay awake as we tool into La Grange.  I see a Hampton Inn a couple blocks away and seriously consider a couple hours of sleep on a bed, but too much money for a short nap.  We stop at a C store.  There are some very long faces as it’s now 11:00 pm and we still have 55 miles left to the overnight control.  I tell the group that I plan to grab some sleep at the next convenient place I see.  I stay with them another 20 miles but then peel off in a town named New Ulm.  I stop and walk around a bit.  It’s getting cold now and I start getting the shakes.  I remember the trash bag and I make me a makeshift vest.  I continue riding, 25 miles to the motel.  Five miles later sleep has taken over. I lie down and set my alarm for 30 min.  Twenty minutes later a car pulls up and a girl who is part of the sag support gets out thinking that there has been an accident but I explain that I just couldn’t ride any farther and had to sleep.  They offer water and food but I’m good on supplies and just need to pedal another 20 miles.  I ask about riders behind me but they say I’m at least an hour ahead of anyone behind me so I continue on by myself.  I finally arrive in Sealy at 4:56 am, an hour behind the herd. Food, shower.  To bed at 6:00 am.

(Sealy to Crockett)  (Mile 466 to 622)

Up at 8:00 am, another wonderful 2 hour sleep.  Slow getting ready this morning. I finally get downstairs.  We’re heading north today, weather board, let me guess, north winds 10 to 15 mph, 90 degrees.  Third day in a row of continuous headwinds.  The herd is still there and Dan calls out to me that they are rolling in 2 minutes.  I skip breakfast in order to catch a ride pending another long day fighting the wind.  To the first control is flat terrain.  I’m feeling great not having to climb hills so I venture out front, drop down on the aero bars and proceed to pick the pace up a bit.  After a few minutes I get the Texas version of STFD and I smile and ease up a bit.  About 5 miles from the control I flat for the second time on the ride.  A quick fix and I regroup at the control in Magnolia, mile 520.  I’m hungry having skipped breakfast and there is a Mexican serving up some Mexican cuisine in one of those carnival food trucks beside the C store.  I have him make me a breakfast burrito.  This guy has talent.  It starts getting hot and I have another flat just a few miles later.  I’m now riding solo with a headwind, hot and I’m getting sleepy again.  I find a church and check in with Susan.  I can tell that today will be my getting over the hump day.  For now I take a 30 minute nap.  I ride another 30 miles, stop at another church and take another 30 min. nap.  I’m running on fumes now.  I need lots of food.  In Huntsville, mile 570, I stop at a Subway for major fueling.  I’m just about finished when 4 riders approach.  It’s Kevin riding with 3 recumbent cyclists.  I chat with Kevin a bit and he encourages me to ride with them as they are having an enjoyable day on the bikes.  I head back inside while they eat.  Peggy, Sara Kay and Daniel round out the group.  They become my pals for the rest of the ride.

They are chipper and joking around a bit and this festiveness was something I hadn’t seen riding with the herd.  Sara Kay rolls out a manly burp that quiets the restaurant and we bust out laughing.  Party on! We head out for Crockett together.  52 miles to the motel.  They are rolling a good pace and I enjoy their company.  We reach the motel at 12:45 am.  I’m starting to have some serious butt issues.  The roads in Texas are much worse than North Carolina roads.  My 700x23 tires and narrow seat combined with a very rough chip-n-seal surface have done me in.  Maybe I can sleep this off.  The girls vote for leaving at 4:00 am.  Do what? OMG, I’ll be lucky to get 1 hour sleep.  I room with Daniel.  I shower as he starts on dinner that we kinda have to prepare ourselves.  We have set our alarms for 3:00 am.  It’s now 1:30 as Daniel gives up on the food and heads for the shower.  I eat half of my food but trash the rest as I need sleep foremost.

(Crockett to Waxahachie)  (622 miles to 770 miles)

Up at 3:00 am after just over an hour of sleep.  Oh this is ridiculous.  I can’t function all day after just an hour of sleep.  We are all a little nervous about finishing on time.  We’ve battled headwinds for 3 days and today we travel northwest with, you guessed it, northwest winds.  Another long day is in store without much time in the bank.   We’ll really have to watch our down time early on to make sure we can finish on time.  I never thought I’d be anywhere close to 90 hours finishing but this is reality.  No time for crying about it.  Speaking of crying, my bottom really hurts today.  We gather in the lobby around 3:45 but no Kevin. 


Finally we send a volunteer to wake him up. Daniel naps, I lay my head down but no sleep.  We finally roll around 4:30 am.  Around 150 miles left to get this finished.  We have some fun rollers this morning and I venture out ahead of the group for a while.  They eventually run me down and we do our best at making time against the wind.  We are in front of the herd (peloton) so that keeps us in a comfort zone.  Though there is nothing comfortable with my saddle today.  I’ve never felt this much pain on a bike ride.  At one time I let my pals go as I’m struggling just to stay on the saddle.  They are long gone now and I finally have to decide my fate.  If I let this get to me I’ll never finish on time, so I get a little attitude, ignore the pain and hammer on until I reel them back in.  I try to put on my happy face because this group likes happy! Mile 662, Palestine, we stop at McDonalds for breakfast.  Breakfast burrito, pancakes, coffee, great comrades and my mood improves.


We continue on, still no peloton yet so we must be making decent time.  Open fields now on busy sections of highway, but we have large shoulders of road.  I wished they were a little smoother.  I’d pay extra!  Last control before the end, Corsicana, mile 725, We arrive with others and a few minutes later the peloton arrives as well as we take over the town.  Only 44 miles to go with some time in the bank.  Everyone here will have no problem finishing on time.  There are still a few behind us though.  The peloton leaves and we leave a few minutes later.  A few miles later there is smoke up ahead, Then 6 Japanese zeros are in formation heading our way. They have just attacked a local airstrip and I’m looking for cover.  Here come the stars and stripes to chase them away.  A b-52 and a b-17 cruising around as well.  How cool is this.  At one point we stop on top of a bridge to watch the action.  No I wasn’t dreaming in my sleep.  It was just an air show at a local airport.


We mosey on.  Kevin and I are battling sleep again.  Kevin pulls off to regroup.  I’m weaving and drop back a bit.  About 30 miles from the end Kevin and I decide we need a nap.  We watch the group ride away as we look for a nice shady spot to lie down.  A little park beside a post office a couple blocks off course is our choice.  We set our alarms for 30 min.  I also make a call to Susan asking for a wake up call for backup.  Local pup gets us up after a 25 min. nap. We roll, Kevin drops the hammer for the first 5 miles, and I’m barely hanging on. STFD!  But I keep it to myself.  We make a turn and we have some short rollers, my favorite hammer terrain.  I throw down a bit for the next 5 miles.  We take out a quick 10 miles in 30 min.  20 miles left and we call a truce and decide to relish the last 20.  Seventeen miles left we stop at a little Mexican store for cold drinks and conversation.  I call Susan giving her our estimated arrival time and begging for a cooler full of recovery drinks at the finish.  We soft pedal the last 17 miles.  It’s a beautiful sunset as we’re pedaling into the sun.  The wind, after 4 days has subsided and things are very pleasant.  We even have a smooth road.  We roll in around 8:30 just a few minutes after sunset.  Susan, Geof and others cheer us in.  Our other pals are still there as well.  We present our signed cards, and then we get medals, pose for pictures.  

Then Kevin and I take a seat and start on those recovery drinks.  We pose for more pictures with our pals.  770 miles in 87 hours, 30 min.  Just for perspective it’s 780 miles from home (Wilson, N.C) to Portland Maine. 6 riders attempt the 1000K, and all finish.  50 riders start the 1200K, only 35 finish. With the 4 days of headwinds and severe weather this will go down as one of the most epic 1200K’s in the US.  I had about 8 hours of sleep over a 4 day period.   It took everything I had.

To all the folks who just earned this....

...You know who you are. All you riders who today are magnificently tired but rightfully proud for completing yesterday's 600K and earning Super Randonneur status for the very first time. Pat yourselves on the back. Ya done good.

A very special congratulations to "Rico" Dayton, who is now qualified for a little ride called Paris Brest Paris..... A highlight of my randonneuring career was seeing Brother Rob reach that historic milestone yesterday. Chapeau!

Tar Heel Riders at the Texas Rando Stampede 1200

A big tip of the cowboy hat to Tim Lucas and Geoff Simons for successfully tackling 750 miles of Texas asphalt and completing the Texas Rando Stampede 1200K. Geoff rolled in with a group of riders at 82:34 while Tim finished at 87:30. I believe it is the first 1200K for both riders, which makes it that much sweeter. I look forward to the ride reports with Texas-sized accounts of torrential rainstorms and miles of tire-devouring, chip & seal roads. Congrats to all riders who participated in the event, including fleche-mate Spencer, and kudos to Dan, Pam, George and all the other organizers of this inaugural event.

Geoff with "Claire."

Tim

Morrisville 400K / Dog Day Afternoon

It happened quickly. One hundred miles into our 400K, we crested a hill in the Uwharrie Mountains and started a steep downhill run. A small white dog, keen for action, heard us coming and wandered into the road. The first group cleared him on the right. This dog was unpredictable; he turned a circle in the road and headed to the left once more. This was big trouble.

Not sure what he'd do next, I scrubbed off as much speed as I could; I was prepared to stop and make a stand, and I shifted my weight behind the seat on the chance that he crossed my front wheel. If he cut back my way again, I was on track to hit him square on.

I managed to slip by on his right and released my brakes, picking up speed again. Out of the corner of my eye I saw that Wes had cleared him as well. I thought we were all in the clear until I heard a rider and bike hit the chipseal.

John M caught the dog broadside and went down hard. I turned to see his tumble, and the contents of his handlebar bag -- a cellphone, a food container, a pair of shears -- spilling onto the road. We stopped immediately and circled back. The dog was long gone (John would see him on the return leg and note the dog had a well-defined tire mark across his flank.)

John was dazed but he was sitting up. Blood was oozing from a deep, ragged divot of skin near his elbow. John is a doctor and I watched as he instinctively checked his legs, his hip, his arm, the shoulder he'd rolled on.

His self-diagnosis took less than 30 seconds.

"Well, I don't think I broke anything," he said. Even shaken, he was calm and matter-of-fact, and he made it clear that he would press on. He needed the 400K as a qualifier for Paris Brest Paris. A dog and a divot were not going to stand in his way.

We took about 15 minutes as John gathered himself up. He made a makeshift bandage using a glove liner and an elastic ankle band to hold it on. Ende collected the items off the road and returned them to John's front bag. I checked over John's bike, put his chain back on, tweaked the bent front fender, straightened out the brake levers. On a short test ride, the bike had a new rattle in the front fender, but everything else seemed fine and the front wheel was true.

We pushed on. John was understandably slow for the first few miles, and he complained of being sore, but his form slowly returned. At the turnaround, he borrowed a flexible knee brace from Lynn and used its compression to hold a bandage in place for the rest of the ride.

John finished with Jerry and Terry just before midnight. A tip of the hat for gutting it out on a very tough 400k course. And a tip of the hat to Geof, Lynn, Branson, Capn, Wes, Jimmy and JoeRay, who had an inspired day off the front.  

To all of the riders out there on the course, wasn't that a great day for a bike ride? Let' s do it again. But watch out for the damn dogs.

Team Lantisepsis: Big Hill Baggers

Hardest fleche route I've done. Scrambling for time the entire time. Hit the 22-hour control with 7 minutes to spare. But we bagged it. A sweet trophy of a ride.

Along for the journey:

• Cap'n "Kidney Stone" Ende, who assembled the team and planned the route.

• Branson Kimball, who challenged 16,000 feet of mountainous ascents and hair-raising descents on a fixed gear.

• Guest star Spencer Klaassen of Missouri on a single speed. Spencer is an accomplished world traveler with more randonneuring swag than Mark Thomas.

The highlights:

8:10 a.m. As we head to our starting point a dreadlocked teen flags us down at Craggy Gardens. He is soaked and cold. He is not wearing any shoes. He borrows a phone. He needs a ride back to town. What are you guys doing? he asks. A bike ride? In this weather? 

8:25 a.m. Unload the bikes at the top of Mt. Mitchell, in a hard rain. The temperature: 42 degrees.

8:33 a.m. Wait in the biting cold as the other boys take care of business in a U.S. Government restroom.

8:40 a.m. Drop down from 6,660 feet into the fog, Branson off the front, legs spinning madly at 35 miles per hour. We fear for his sanity.


11:52 a.m. Mile 43. The rain has stopped, morale is high and the fellow working the gate at the Arboretum is happy to sign cards. We learn something new -- bikers get in free. We'll save that for another day.

1:06: p.m. Mile 58. A self portrait taken in Etowah is posted on Facebook.  It's all smiles for the camera and then we head the wrong way out of the parking lot.

2:51 p.m. Mile 71. Lunch in Flat Rock, sandwiches and steaming bean soup, and talk up Carl Sandburg, who has a house there equipped with U.S. Government restrooms. Carl likely had our fleche team in mind when he wrote "fierce as a dog with tongue lapping for action, cunning as a savage pitted against the wilderness."

5:05 p.m. Mile 95. We stop at the control in Brevard and the sweet lady who signs our cards asks how we are getting to the next town, Rosman. Capn tells her East Fork Road. She looks puzzled. "East Fork Road? Is that paved now?" We do a little math. It will take us 9.5 hours to do the first 100 miles. And the really hard climbing has not yet begun. The panic comes in on little cat feet and sinks its claws in. 

5:28 p.m. The single speed crew are forced to walk their bikes up the perfectly paved but treacherously steep East Fork Road. They begin "flinging magnetic curses (to quote Carl again) amid the toil of piling job on job." 





5:30 p.m. Capn successfully quashes the undertones of mutiny. It will not be the last time he must step up to put down open rebellion. Capn has tapped into a universal truth: Great talent must sometimes be coddled. This sign is at the top of one hill on East Fork. It says it all.

7:28 p.m. Mile 118. At our Balsam Grove control, I head around back to use the privately owned restroom. A young boy whose house is just behind the convenience store is toting a large sack of garbage. He pitches it into a dumpster. He confides, "I'm just a little kid but my dad lets me take out the trash." I immediately declare this the quote of the ride. Carl swinging for the fence on his finest day can't touch that.

10:30 p.m. Mile 138. Well, that was hell on two wheels. We have just gutted it out on the painful nine mile climb up Route 215 to the Parkway.  In poetry, the fog may come in on little cat feet. Up on the Blue Ridge Parkway, at 5,200 feet after a rainstorm, the fog stomps around like a rutting wild boar. We use the solid yellow line to keep us on target. The folks at Pisgah Inn, located on the Parkway at Pisgah, are cheerful and accommodating. They don't blink twice when we park our damp fannies on their fine Mission Oak leather. The Inn's restaurant closed hours ago. We take an inventory of our food stock: three gels, a Snickers bar and some pocket lint. That should get us down the hill.

12:34 a.m. Mile 166. Team Lantisepsis regroups in Etowah after briefly separating when Capn diesels off the front. There is no food to be had. Things may be looking bleak but it is too dark to be certain.

2:49 a.m. Mile 188. Food! We find an open Huddle House in Asheville and hunker down over plates of eggs and hashbrowns and waffles and bacon and sausage and grits.





Capn questions whether we have the fortitude to make it up a one mile climb that stands between us and a control five miles away at Capn's house. We are uncertain whether this a psychological trick or a very steep hill.

4:30 a.m. Mile 195. We strike out from the Ende's. Our plan to catch a 30-minute catnap was foiled by a yellow lab named Ellie, who was none too pleased at us invading her sleep and was only too happy to return the favor with an ingenious strategy of nonstop earflapping. To sum up: the people did not rest, for sleep was not there and the touch of dreams was just out of reach.

5:25 a.m. Mile 202. Hey, things are looking up. We reached the post office control in Alexander in record time. Maybe we are studs after all. Since the 22 hour control store doesn't open until 6 a.m., we poke around for a few minutes then lollygag toward Marshall. Our 22 hour clock will start at 6:30 a.m.

6:23 a.m. What the =#&$@? Mile 215. We've miscalculated and roll into the 22-hour control with just 7 minutes to spare. We've all looked at the profile for the next 17 miles and know we'll have our work cut out for us -- there are two serious climbs toward the end. We'll need to work hard to make it in on time.

7:44 a.m. Mile 230. That's us, smiling away. We're at the top of the last climb. Tony met us there and snapped this shot of Team Lantisepsis.  All we have left is a 3 mile screaming descent into Hot Springs. Branson may truly be screaming as one of the toughest downhills of the entire ride threatens to shred his tired legs. The riders heading out on Tony's 200K passed us as we climbed the final hill. They waved and cheered. We felt like conquering heroes.

8:00 a.m. Mile 234. Hot Springs, hot damn! We park our bikes on the porch of the Diner, just yards away from the Appalachian Trail. We are all done. This tough old fish is out of the pond and into the record books. Ende says take a picture, this is his last fleche. He said that after the last fleche, too. We pile into a booth, order pancakes and coffee and eggs and bacon and grits and toast and juice. We begin to fill our bellies. 

Let the tall tales begin.


Thanks to the Endes for the hospitality, the Easter basket, the gig, the double lattes, the good times.


Special thanks: Tony for making it happen.


Congratulations: Jimmy's team.


Missed you: Carol and George. Next time.



Happiness

I asked professors who teach the meaning of life to tell me what is happiness.


And I went to famous executives who boss the work of thousands of men.


They all shook their heads and gave me a smile as though I was trying to fool with them.


And then one Sunday afternoon I wandered out along the Desplaines river


And I saw a crowd of Hungarians under the trees with their women and children and a keg of beer and an accordion.

-- Carl Sandburg