Frigid Air / Feb 21 300K

Call the HVAC man. The heat ain't working.

There wasn't a bank thermometer within eyesight at the start of yesterday's 300K in Harrisburg, NC. Had there been, we might have loaded the bikes, climbed back in the car, cranked the heat and headed home to a warm bed and a hot breakfast. We knew it was cold, but we couldn't put an exact figure on it. When we passed the first bank, about 10 miles in, the big display showed 17, a fine prime number and a fair blackjack hand, but a frigid biking temperature that burned my face when we picked up speed on the downhills. This was my coldest start ever -- and I've been keeping meticulous tabs since 1936, so I'm fairly certain about this. My toes hurt. My lungs hurt. But I had legs all day, and that's what counts on the bike.

Eight of us rolled out of the parking lot at 6:05 a.m. -- me, Jerry, Branson, Joel, Glenn, James, Gary and newcomer Paul, out for his first 300K. Others had signed up for the start, but they are smarter than us, smart enough to be a no-show. Chuck got Saturday's MENSA award. He showed up for the start but forgot his shoes and could not ride. Pure genius. We'll give him partial credit.

Branson chose to ride fixed gear; he and Gary would ride as a duo, with James not far behind. Jerry, Joel, Glenn, Paul and I rode together for the majority of the trip.

The temperature climbed rapidly in the morning if the banks are to be believed -- but their credibility has been sharply eroded in recent weeks. From the low of 17, we saw, in rapid succession, 25 then 36 then 49. Is the stimulus package already taking hold? But I knew what this really meant. Warm air was pushing in from the south southeast. So guess which direction we were heading? We had headwind or a strong crosswind most of the way out. We all knew once we made the turnaround on this out-and-back course, we could let out the jib sails for the journey home.

This course suited my riding style. I'd call it a flat to rolling course, with smooth pavement on most roads and long stretches that allowed the day's rhythms and themes to develop. When we wound things up a few times, I felt the harmonic vibration of the chain: the song of the machine. I'd put the front Berthoud bag on my Coho and loaded it down with a light rain jacket, a camera, gels, glasses, a toothbrush, tools and tubes. I had not ridden with the front bag for a while, and I fretted that I would feel the extra weight in the hills. In fact, the Coho has never felt better beneath me. It was one more simple joy of a very pleasurable day on the bikes.

Highway 73, which Joel affectionately called our Alpine stage, was an early season test of the legs and lungs, a 12-mile stretch between Mt. Gilead and Ellerbe that crossed a series of ridges. Drop down to a river or a creek or a swamp, then settle in for a short climb. The crest of each hill provided a glimpse of the next ridge. There it was: your goal, in sharp geographic relief. All of life's goals should be so clear on the horizon. On the return trip, Glenn and I rode off the front of our small peloton, turned up the heat, put our machines through the paces in one of those perfect cycling moments of synchronization and sweat. Glenn was on his new Franklin frame, painted very much like the old silver/blue Raleigh Pros. The Franklin had just been built up and still had that new bike smell. "But I about wore it off on that road," he said.

From Feb-21-09-300k

The route took us past the Rockingham Speedway. I suspected an event was going on; a motor home passed us as we neared the track. From the sound of things the 1/4 mile drag strip was being used. That was confirmed when the wind blew the smell of rubber and alcohol fuel across our path. In years past, Saturday's route would have been dicey; NASCAR's second race of the season was typically held here on this weekend, and the roads we were on would have been clogged with thousands of cars and beer-fueled race fans. But NASCAR's premier circuit doesn't come here any more; the races have moved to modern tracks in Florida and Texas, and that's a shame.

Our little crew gave randonneuring a good name, soft pedaling when someone stopped for a nature break, regrouping at each control, all taking a fair share of pulls at the front, although we graciously let Glenn lead the way whenever he felt the urge, which was often. At the turnaround in Laurinburg, we stopped for the breakfast I'd missed that morning. The restaurant: "Breakfast Anytime!" That is, anytime before 3 p.m., when they close.

Here are a few shots I snapped.


Glenn is a natural on a bike, focused and workmanlike, and his machines are always one final polish away from the Handmade Bike Show -- hey, when you're showing up to do battle, a shiny tank works its own shock and awe.


Joel was just back from Sebring, where he'd reeled off 355 miles in 24 hours. He called this 190-mile ride his recovery day. You can count on Joel for entertainment during the ride. He thought he spotted Scarlet Johansson along the route. Actually it proved to be her lesser known cousin, Ruby Johansson.


Paul was on his first 300K, and he occasionally lost contact with us. We encouraged him to stay off the front to save his legs. Apparently that worked. At the end of the day, he took off like a horse feeling the whip, dropping a few of us on the long climb into Locust. His secret fuel: the Java from Breakfast Anytime.


Here's my good riding buddy Jerry, who provided the weekend's music, Mazda and camaraderie. Thank you, sir. A picture taking a picture.

We rolled into the finish right around 9 p.m. Too cold to swap stories, we loaded up, cranked the heat and headed out. Another fun day on the bikes. Thanks to Tony for a great event.

Postscript. Branson captured these pictures of the train coming back from Laurenburg. That's Joel on the front. Notice two of us are running our edeluxs. With no fear of burning out the bulb, we just leave em on all the time. BTW: Branson has designed a fantastic new jersey for the N.C. Rando crew. You need one.







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Supernova E3: a glowing review

Talk about your glowing endorsement. When a pedestrian stops you with – “Hey! What kind of light is that?”– you know it's good.

Yes, I’m talking about the new Supernova E3.

I finally wired my light this evening, impatiently checked the sky. Still too much sun. Like the bard said, Out, damn'd spot! out, I say.

Oh, yeah, Spot. I took the dog for a walk, counted the minutes, waited for the Dark Monster to get up and pull the shades down. Finally. I rolled the Coho from the basement and headed out for a test run.

First planned stop: the neighborhood Quik Mart for a feels-like-a-winner! lottery ticket. I had the light on as I headed down Glenwood, a big street that slices through the heart of Raleigh like a cardiologist with a tee time. Two of the light-sensitive street lights blinked off as I neared them. Was the Supernova doing that? Why yes, I think it was.

The Quik Mart is a half mile from the house. By the time I reached it, the E3 standlight was already charged. Here’s a shot of it.


And while I’m taking shots, here’s one of the dual tail lights. Those rear light brackets on the Coho are a fantastic feature.



Winning ticket in hand, I rolled off to a little neighborhood I like to call the Heart of Darkness.

First impressions: the Supernova throws a hot white light. It has a more diffuse pattern than the trapezoidal beam of the E3. The hottest part of the beam appears to be narrower and longer than the E6 pattern.

Also, the Supernova is clearly brighter than the E6. How can I say that without a side-by-side comparison? Easy. The E6’s yellow light was typically overwhelmed by city street lights. The E3’s beam remained visible.

I tried to get a couple shots of the light’s beam while rolling down a slight hill. Let me say up front that the camera does not do the light justice -- unless justice is six feet of rope and a hanging tree. I’ve posted the video anyway because you do get a sense of the light’s reach. Watch the video and you’ll see the reflective striping light up on a road barricade. That was a couple hundred yards away when I first started down the hill.



Here’s another short video that shows the E3 can hold its own against a streetlight.



Now back to the opening story. I was heading up a side street when a man walking his dogs saw me coming. He yelled out: “Hey, what kind of light is that.” I turned around, stopped and showed him, telling him in general terms it was a generator hub. “Yeah,” he said, “but what kind is it? I’ve been looking for one. That thing is really bright.”

Yes indeed. Like a Supernova.

Update: Blair Witch Project 3 just called. They want to buy my extra footage.

Update 2: The Lottery just called. The limo's on its way.

Mechanical Issues

A friend wrote this week:

It seems I learn a little more about how to do these rides each time out. My main weakness now is I don't know about bicycle maintenance & repair. I haven't been able to find a course so I pick up what I can. Any time you have hard earned advice I have an open mind.

My randonneuring experience on more than 50 brevets or permanents is that only a few mechanical issues (beyond a crucial part failure, like a rim or the frame) will end your ride. For instance, I’ve ridden more than 120 miles where the rear dérailleur would not shift. It was inconvenient but not a show-stopper. But there are some things that will sideline you for good if not repaired.

* Tires. I carry one now, folded up beneath my rear tool bag. I’ve cut a tire so badly that it could not be booted. But for those cuts that can be repaired, I usually carry a tire boot. I have one made by Park Tools. Truth is, I’ve had very few flats on brevets (knock on wood). One reason is that I always inspect my tires before any brevet. It only takes a minute for a quick check. Do the tires look worn? Are there any big, suspicious cuts that might conceal a piece of glass or metal? If so, I fix, or switch the tire. Also, I use Michelin Pro Race tires. They are incredibly puncture resistant and perform well in roll tests.

* Tubes. I usually carry two tubes and a patch kit. As I’ve just noted, I’ve had very few problems with flats on rides because of preventive maintenance. I foresee the day when I have three flats, but I'm not looking forward to it.

* Broke spoke. I’ve had this happen a couple times. This is a huge problem on modern bikes with very little clearance and low spoke count wheels. I’ve switched over to 32-spoke or higher wheels, and I usually carry spare spokes or a fiber fix spoke kit. I also carry a spoke wrench. I’ve built several sets of wheels, which is a fun way to learn about wheel repair. That’s an invaluable skill on long rides. I periodically take my wheels off, check them for loose spokes and true them.

* Bottom bracket. I’ve had the BB loosen up on a few long rides. This can bring things grinding to a halt -- or at the very least, prove to be incredibly annoying. There’s usually not much you can do about this unless you’re willing to carry an assortment of tools (or stop in the local Wal-Mart and buy a $5.99 tool set with hammer and punch, as I once did). The better solution: If you suspect the BB's loose, or if the bike is fairly new, get it tightened before the ride. This one comes to mind because the BB on my new Coho just loosened up. The BB was a brand I did not have the tool for at home. I had to go into Ed's shop after pulling the crank arms. I ordered the puller while I was there.

* Rear derailleur adjustment. I’ll be honest. The 10-speed der. adjustment is still a mystery to me. I can get it close, but never perfect. Hearing myself say this, I’m going to crack this riddle. But it should not stop you. I rode PBP with my rear derailleur out of adjustment. I figured out which gears to avoid.

* Broken chain. I’ve seen this happen a few times and it will definitely end your day if you can’t repair. But it can be done roadside, assuming you carry a chain tool. I usually do, as well as an extra pin and a bit of extra chain. My current chain has one of those snap links in it, so I could shorten the chain if need be and get back on the road.

Of course, you can expect things to get ugly on a chain fix. Here's a shot of Brother Tim's hands after a successful repair. He broke a spoke on the same ride b/c the rear der. damaged some spokes when the chain snapped. He finished the century with a very wobbly wheel but a great attitude. He was not going to be denied.

* Front derailleur adjustment. I’ve seen people break chains by throwing the chain and trying to pedal it back on. The front der. is usually pretty easy to adjust with the two set screws. If you’ve been throwing your chain to the outside, or dropping it inside, take a moment to get this squared away.

* Lights. A broken light could/should put an end to the night ride. What to do? On my set-up, I carry a spare bulb for the front dynohub light (and often a spare battery light). I have redundant lights in the back.

Rain Men / Spartanburg 300K brevet

The calls and email started trickling in on Friday afternoon. Was I still planning to do the Spartanburg 300K?

Well, yes.

Had I seen the forecast?

Umm. Yes, I’d seen it.

In fact, seen it on every weather Web site I could pull up. Looking for one that promised something more optimistic. But I couldn’t find it. They were all the same. 100 percent chance of rain. Heavy at times. 1-2 inches expected.

Yes, several of my riding buddies had been eyeing the weather. Now they were bailing like the management team at Enron. But I was in, come hell or high water – and most likely the latter. I’d signed up for the S.C. 300K, and I had pride on the line, that suspect human emotion that usually comes before the fall.

I’d promised to give riding buddy Jerry a lift. When I talked to him he was still gung ho. And riding buddy Branson was still in.

And so there you go. Rain Men. Without the math skills.

Jerry and I drove down to Spartanburg after work, stopped for a barbecue dinner at Jimmy’s in Lexington. As we neared our destination, waves of driving rain lashed the car. At one point we hydroplaned helplessly, a sick feeling of the car slip-sliding at 60 mph until the wheels found a shallow spot and grabbed asphalt.

I feared this was just the appetizer tray for the storm that would be dished up tomorrow.

We pulled up to the Quality Inn near the start and began unloading the bikes in a heavy rain. That’s when Jerry discovered he was missing one of his nuts – specifically, the one that fits on the end of his front wheel skewer. Without it his bicycle was unrideable. We searched for about a half hour on the wet, black pavement and in the back of my car. We even recruited the guy from the front desk. No luck. It looked like Jerry’s ride might be over before it started.

Jerry went off to his room, perhaps to contemplate his good fortune, while I went to mine and did a final set-up on the Coho, the Weather Channel in the background painting a meteorological picture of Doom and Gloom. Not much had changed in the forecast, except now the forecasters had begun to overlay tornado warning grids on the region just east of us.

How to pack for this ride? The only thing I knew to do was overpack. And so I crammed two extra pairs of socks, an extra skull cap, extra gloves in my Berthoud bag. The thing bulged like a beer belly in a Father’s Day t-shirt. Overpacked? You bet.

Branson arrived about 11:00 and took the second bed in the room. We talked weather and we talked PBP07, another epic rain event with better pastry options.

Come morning, the streets were still wet, the skies jam-packed with low clouds, but no rain was falling. Perhaps the weather forecasters had missed it. Perhaps the sky would lift and the sun would come out and we’d have a good laugh at all of our buddies who’d bagged the ride.

Perhaps I’d find a gold nugget in a creek bed while fishing for speckled trout. Anything could happen.

Speaking of finds, Jerry located the skewer nut. Catastrophe averted. Turns out it was in the last place he looked. He was back in the big show!

We had breakfast with Tom and Mary Florian, a delightful randonneuring couple from Lumberton. They’ve only been cycling for three years but they’re as gung ho as the rest of us and exceptionally strong riders. For a flatlander, Tom is a monster up the hills.

Over a toasted bagel Tom told the story of how a ferry gate (!) had busted his seat at the start of a multi-day ride, forcing him to ride about 100 miles with a duct tape repair until he found a replacement. During the ride, Mary would tell the same story, but with a few details that were lacking in Tom’s version.

We rolled over to the start at 6:40 or so and met SC RBA Bethany Davison. She was all sly smiles. Yes, there’d be a bit of rain, she said, but it would taper off by the afternoon. Haha, hey what’s that shiny thing in the creek?


Here's Bethany, Branson and Jerry at the start.

There were six hardy randonneurs lined up for the event. Rounding out the field was an S.C. rider named Jack.

Our ragtag crew hit the road promptly at 7. No lie: it began raining within 200 yards of the start. Light at first, the kind of rain you’d call refreshing if you happened to see it out the bay window of your living room while you lounged next to a crackling fire, your favorite book open in your lap.

Five miles up the road, we were caught in the middle of a sho nuff rain storm. We stopped at the first turn and I pulled on the rain jacket. My feet were soaked. My hands were soaked. This was going to be a long day. I sat on the back for a good part of the morning as the pace was a little rich for my puny legs.

Mercifully, the heavy rain abated and the light or misty rain we enjoyed until mid afternoon was bearable and at times downright pleasant, especially with the mild temperatures. We were wet, yes, but we were never really cold.

The roads were a mess, the worst I’d seen on any ride. The gully washers from the day before had littered the asphalt with gravel and mud and debris. I was the only one with fenders. The others soon had their jerseys and jackets splattered with red mud.

We lost Jack off the back shortly before Marietta. As for me, I struck out on my own from the 55-mile control when the others stopped for a biscuit and a break. That gave me a chance to gather myself back up with some easy pedaling at my own pace, a perfect tonic for tired legs.

Branson reeled me like a mackerel near Liberty, while Jerry caught us about 10 miles from the turnaround in Piercetown. Tom and Mary apparently dropped back when Mary had a mechanical issue coming up a hill.

We had a burger or fish sandwich at the turnaround, where Bethany’s husband Steve took a couple snapshots, signed our cards and cheered us on.


Here's Branson at the turnaround....


...And Jerry...


...And Mike.

I suffered back to the Holly Springs store before finally getting my legs back. Odd, as I filled my water bottles out front, one of the locals came out with a toy fishing rod. Maybe there was a good trout stream nearby.

We stopped again in Marietta for a meal and chatted with Bethany and her husband Steve at the Burger King. Our spirits were good, but as we sat inside, eating the second fast food meal of the day, the rain returned, this time as heavy as at the start. We rode for the next hour in a downpour before it tapered off to a light rain and a mist.

We finished at 9 or so, about an hour or two after the dark curtain dropped. Bethany and Steve were waiting with V8s and turkey sandwiches. Branson and I chatted them up while Jerry rode back over to the hotel and talked the desk clerk into a half-price room where we showered, washing road grime down the drain before the four-hour drive home.

When we stopped for gas on the way back I had a hunch. I went inside the gas mart.

One Gold Rush game ticket, I said.

Sorry, the clerk said. Sold out.

Haha. So much for hunches.

Postscript: I nearly forgot a highlight of the ride. With so much water on the roads and on the bikes, the only thing that was dry were our chains. For about 20 miles we endured that horrible scraping sound of metal on metal. My chain felt brittle. On every hill I expected it to snap. When we climbed up to a T-intersection, we saw a guy in an AT&T van pulled off the road. Jerry rode up to him and asked whether he might have a small bit of oil on board. Yes he did, as it turned out. He fished around in the back of the van and pulled out a fresh quart of Valvoline motor oil. Will this work, he asked? Damn straight! He may as well have handed a quart of sweet wine to a street drunk. I poured a healthy dose on the bottom pulley of our derailleurs as Branson worked the pedals.

There were no more squeaks that day.

Update: Looks like the forecasters were dead-on with their predictions. A local newspaper article reported that "1.2 inches of rain had fallen at the [Greenville-Spartanburg] airport as of 9 p.m. Saturday."

Orange Roads & Vanilla Shake.

For riding buddies it’s hard to beat JoeRay & Wes. Check this. I showed up with a new bike for a 40-miler in Orange, Alamance County. They let me take every county line and bought me a vanilla milkshake from Mapleview at the finish. That’s what I’m talking about. These guys know how to pay proper homage.

Today was a good test ride. Yesterday was more of a shake-out ride to make sure no parts fell off. Today was a bit brisker pace, with lots of chip&seal along the route. I changed a bit of the set-up, and the bike felt great today. It actually corners better than my carbon bike and tracks perfectly. I did some hands free riding at 30 mph. Not bad. The big test is coming up, with a 225-miler next weekend.

Here are photos of Wes & JoeRay at the Saxapahaw bridge, and an action shot by JoeRay.

Fait Accompli

Ain't the Internet amazing? Before I got home with my new bike, my good friend Bill Bryant had already seen pictures of it posted by Chuck Lathe on a flicker site. Very cool! That's travel at the speed of light.

Yes, the new bike is finished, and it's a black beauty. I showed up at Chuck's place this morning with a bag of parts and some bar tape, and we did the trim work.

Chuck did most of the heavy lifting today. I managed to derail our forward progress for about half an hour. We were assisted by three of the neighbor's dogs, and Chuck's lovely wife served up some potent caffeine.

We finished up around 1 p.m. and did a 20 mile test ride on Chuck's post office loop. The launch was perfect. It rained about 30 minutes before we got rolling, so I christened my new craft on wet roads. A good start for any randonneur bike.

A few details: check the frame pump location. Beautiful Berthoud fenders. The decaleur is off the bike but it comes with a brass bell. The cable stops on the top tube don't show, but they're one of my favorite details -- a throwback to my old Raleigh Internationals. The lug work looks very tidy all around. My favorite is the one at the seat post. There's a cool braze-on loop to route cables up the right fork blade. That was a touch I hadn't seen before. It was a pleasant surprise. The E6 light is tucked out of the way on the front rack. Good, that's always a pain to mount. Check out the braze-ons for those rear lights.

As for the ride? I'll get a better sense next weekend on our 225-mile fleche. I'm going for 40 miles tomorrow with Joe & Wes.

More later. In the meantime, here's a photo or 2 of the final build today at Chuck's house. But be sure to check out Chuck's shots. They're better bike photos.

BTW: that bag was a loaner for the photos.

More Progress

Chuck just forwarded this picture. We're rolling now. The paint's on, and so are some of the parts. I have a few here, and I'll try to get to Chuck in the next day or so.

Who knows? This just might be my ride on next weekend's fleche...

Oh, JD just asked what the color is. PBP Midnight.

Weekend Rides / New Bike Progress

Just back in from a fun 60 miler with JoeRay, Danno, Wes and Jerry. We planned a big loop that took us over lots of hills in Chatham County then dumped us at the halfway point in front of the Pittsboro General Store, where everybody got waffles. The boys were feeling frisky today, and there were lots of 24 and 25 mph stretches. Jerry led us up lots of hills on the single speed.

Today’s ride topped off a good weekend of riding. JoeRay and I did 60 fast, windblown miles yesterday with the Gyros.

Folks have been asking how the Coho was coming along. When I got home, Chuck had emailed two new fotos. Here they are.



The first shot shows the frame shined up for tomorrow’s guest appearance at the Greensboro Velo Club meeting. Chuck said he doesn’t usually clean them up so much before the powder coating. I think it looks fantastic just like it is. It’s almost a shame to paint it. Could use a seat, though.



This picture shows what Chuck calls the decaleur, which is part of the device that holds the front Berthaud bag in place. I won’t use the front bag on every ride, and I didn’t want to leave that on there all the time, so Chuck made one that I can easily remove. Said Chuck: “The decaleur unbolts from the steerer tube clamp and you can take the clamp off and replace it with a 10mm spacer.”

It's been fun watching Chuck work through solutions when a customer like me asks for something a little different than what he's done before.