South Mountain Ride

I was zippin down the 101 heading to Scottsdale Friday nite, when suddenly everybody started to go very very slow--this is 8:30 p.m. and I'm not far from Steve and Kim's place--all the sudden there were a series of bright stobe flashes, like lightening. Holy Shit! I'm busted! It was those speed cameras that take your picture. I remember Steve telling me about them--about they got some woman going 130 mph. They had a grace period and with my luck the grace period is over.

My speeding ticket will come in the mail soon. I was going 80 mph at least. So was everybody else, Gentle Reader--except they all knew where the cameras were placed, and slowed down, way down--while I sped on. ZAP , POW, POW! Those lights! Bastards!


Here's South Mountain about 6 a.m. The Sun is just coming up, and Steve and I are crossing the bridge into Tempe and the campus of Arizona State University.


Yours on the old Tempe Bridge. I-Hop is just a few minutes away and breakfast. Its a beautful Spring morning. Still kind of cold, and we had to wear warmers--and we'd have to carry that stuff with us all day. To stay warm, and not have to carry a jacket all day, I have yesterday's newspaper tucked under my jersey. The paper keeps out the cold morning air. I tossed the paper at I-Hop, and then wished I hadn't because it was still cool after breakfast. Even in Tempe it was cool until almost 9 a.m.


ASU Crew Club sets off for an early morning workout.


We're on the old bridge. The new bridge has some cool design elements. I 'd like to steal this and use for a jersey logo. The sun is coming up over the Superstition Mtns--Let's get rolling to I-Hop!


I have to say that this 100 mile ride was just what we needed. Weather was finally good for a change, and Steve as always is strong and sets a good pace. In no time we have ridden about 50 miles, and West out onto the Gila Bend Indian Reservation.

Now we're heading East, thru Guadalupe, and South Mtn is coming into view. Guadalupe is just waking up. The fields are green, the cows are fat, and the horses are alert and watching us as we cruise past.


Getting closer. We've made good time--We actually discuss by-passing riding to the top. We need to be back early as possible--but we agree we're feeling strong, and we need to do some climbing.


Of course, one of us gets a flat. Flats take time to fix. Everything has to stop and you make the best of it. Steve fixes the flat tire while I fill up water bottles and snap a few photos of the old Ranger Station where we've stopped.


Circa 1929 sturcture.


Part of the old Ranger Station. There's a drinking fountain which has very cold water, and a restroom.


South Mtn from the Ranger Station. From here 8 miles to the summit and the towers.

Steve and I climbed the 8 miles and I believe we both felt pretty strong. I started to really feel it and had not ridden like this in about 3 weeks. The last two miles to the summit were brutal and even the last mile was killing me.

We made it to the top and I thought I was going to pass out. I didn't have much water, and it was now about 11:30 in the morning. It was very hot at the top and there was no shade--but I had to get myself together so I could get back down. Just a creepy feeling knowing that you pushed yourself almost to your limit. Mes amis, I was right on the edge. It felt like my heart was going to bust out of my chest and bounce down the mountain, me chasing after!

Oh yes, I must mention that right before the TV towers, we did the other peak called Dobbs Lookout or something like that--pretty cool.


The top!


Hey? Is that Wilbur Wright at Kitty Hawk? On examination, you can still see the elements of the bicycle in these gliders--they're not much different from the test kites and gliders the Wright Bros flew in 1904.

This was such a beautiful weekend! The para sail guys and hang glider people were up there. It was very hot so we didn't stay long--


On the way back, I got this quick snap-shot of "A" Mountain. On our way to lunch now as we ride thru ASU campus, pass the Mountain, go over that bridge, and thru Papago Park. It is 87 degrees or hotter up here in Phoenix. And we're trying to get back to Scottsdale. No place to stop really--just need to get back.

Of course 2 miles from Steve's house, I get a flat tire on the front wheel. Steve says just pump it up and keep going. This did save us some time, and finally we were back by 3:30 pm--we rode a good solid 117 miles.

So to recover so I could make the drive home, I slept on the floor for about 15 minutes. That really revived me and I took a quick shower and went on my way. It was a fast weekend, mainly on the bike which is what I like.

The 600 km looms around the corner, mes amis! Stay tuned...

Owt---

Rode in on a Broom

I probably should have taken before and after photos, Gentle Readers, of my new bike locker. I promise a full photo essay soon! All I can say is that is was filthy, and this morning I arrived early with a old rag, a broom, and bust bin to shovel out the dirt and spider webs.

A phone call to security forces, which probably would have been forwarded to the Mail Room, where I picked up the key the other day, could have eventually gotten some one out there to at least use a leaf blower and blast all that shit out.

People coming to work saw me marching across the TMC campus broom and dust bin in hand, probably wondering to themselves what the hell I was up to. Bubba or Bobby Dewayne was maybee thinkin to themselves, "That thar boy up and ought tah ride that there broom on in to his lolly-pop desk job..." Well damn their NASCAR hats, gotees, and RayBans! Je suis un Randonneur, cowboy!

So I swept out and carried off three shovel loads of what looks like years of dust and grit. I can't see how it got so messed up in there. I might be that the parking garage leaks and all the water drips down on the bike lockers--but this is a chance for me to pimp my bike locker with photos of svelt ladies and Hello Kitty posters!

Sweet!

Meth

My good friend and colleague at AHSL got his nice road bike stolen out of his garage this last Friday afternoon. I am feeling very bad for him and his family--because, as he told me in an email today--the thief came back and broke into their house Saturday. He says they smashed out the back kitchen widow in the door with one of his golf clubs. This is pretty upsetting to me, and Stef thinks its because of people on Meth.

When I bought my place here in Dog Mtn a few years ago, one evening I went outside and there were like 30 FBI and DEA agents--with guns drawn, and with K-9 Units going over the house across the street. So I had drug dealers living on my street. I knew something was up... They got a lot of visitors, and cars would be driving by all the time, and turning around in the cul du sac which is our street. The cars were nice cars, but kind of pimped. The clients of my former drug dealing neighbors crusied by for months after the Heat got them out. The house sat empty for about a year until it was fianlly bought by a couple and their kind of dim-witted pubesant daughter. Geez--at least the drug dearler dude and his freak waved and kept things tidy.

Anyway, I'm just kind of bummed out because we work hard to have nice things and then someone just smashes down your door and takes what ever they can grab, so they can get high.

So this excrement grabbed Stef's road bike, only to realize this object was beyond his mental or physical capabilities--

Owt

DNF

The 400 didn't go so well--it was a let down. It was so cold and the wind was so strong. My legs were like noodles--I had no energy. It's like the wind just came in and robbed me of my spirit. I felt cold and empty. Everytime we seem to take on this kind physical and mental endevor, the forces of nature hammers us down.

When it was all said and done--I must say that we needed this rain. Rainfall and then sunshine make the desert around these parts quite spectacular. Driving home from Casa Grande, after dropping off Steve to met Kim for a ride home, I took the brevet route back to Tucson for awhile--a fender-bender on the Fwy had traffic backed up for 14 miles from Picacho Peak to just past Eloy--anyway, I was driving through the farm land fresh after the rain. The roads were deserted--I saw coyotes darting around. Birds were everywhere, all kinds. It was like everything came to life. The sky was that awesome deep blue, and the mountains were dark with rain. Big clouds hung on Mt Lemmon--there's snow on the Catalinas now.

I cut over West on the I-10 Frontage Rd, then went just under the Fwy and just a few miles ahead of where traffic was all backed up. Right there as you come out of the going under the Fwy, Picacho Peak is right there. A cloud was just hanging on top of it, and the cloud looked just like a white river flowing around and around the peak in a slow circle.

So even though I didn't complete the 257 miles that make up 400 Kilometers, I was happy I got to see the Peak in this special way.

Allure Libre

French Toast

As the Regional Brevet Administrator, or RBA, Susan Plonsky has the job of running the show. After the brevets are planned out, she makes sure, through her various contacts, that our brevet cards we carry with us--and so carefully guard--make it to Paris, France.

Susan rides the brevets solo the week before. That way she can be the offical for our brevets. It takes a lot of courage to do this--ride hundreds of miles on your own through the desert. Since I had the week off before the new job, and wanted to do a few training rides, Susan asked me to ride with her through more of the remote parts of the 400 Km course.

All I can say is that the head winds were relentless--a storm front was moving into Tucson. I met her at Ajo Way and Kinney at the McD's and soon I realized we were on the "Shoot Out" course that the pros and hard core dude's train on. The road sucked, and the head wind was brutal. Just for a break we stopped for a photo op at Mission San Xavier, and took the picture below.



I carried my new handle bar bag, which seemed to work well. Mostly I stashed my camera in there and it took up most of the room. I need a new camera I guess, because I know you all don't want to read, you want to see the pictures!

Head winds were tough, and I was getting beat down. Susan road strong and I had to stay on her wheel and get pulled along.

Very tough was the head wind from Green Valley to Amado Jct. That's on the Frontage Rd of I-19. And the ride to Arivaca, which is a great 22 miles through wilderness and cattle ranches--very difficult indeed.

Only on 286 through the Buenos Aires Wildlife Refuge did we get a break--for 35 miles we road at 20+ mph with the tailwind, and I recovered and got my strenght back. The sun set and the mountains were beautiful to behold. My lights worked very well and there was little or no traffic all the way to the store in Three Points.

Susan had ridden about 190 miles, and was on her way back to Casa Grande. I road East on Ajo Way back to my car. It was dark and the 10 miles were long and lonely, but I was able to ride pretty fast. At one point I ran over something on the shoulder and it jarred me so hard that my lights came loose, and my back-up light came flying off. I ran out onto the hwy and fetched it. I just remember long strands of plastic bags clinging to the scawny trees next to the shoulder--Sometimes they looked like ghosts with flowing hair and clothes. It was creepy and I was glad when the stop lights at Ajo Way and Kinney came into view.

Allure Libre!

Pre 400 Km Prep

The aero bars are off to make way for a handle bar bag. The bag I got at the GABA swap meet for $15. I just think I need to figure out how to make use of the extra space. Probably can hold one more water bottle, food, and warm gear. I know I have to drink more and eat more. The extra space may help in this matter.

You might notice my commuter light mounted to the right handle bar drop. This may not work but I'm going to give it a try.

I think I just need to relax--I spent most of today working on the bike--I put on new tires, and made adjustments. It's best to figure this stuff out now then try to mess with it on the road.

Steve and I had a very strong 400 Km last year. That's because we had a nice pace line going through the remote part of the course, down by the border of Old Mexico. Rich Combs and Mike Allen are not with us this year.

Stay tuned for my training adventures!

Cheers,

What I Wished For

Be careful what you wish for--because you might get it. Yesterday I drove to TMC for some formalities with the new job. So I drove the route what will be my commute.

I must say that it will be a long commute and pretty daunting. It was 80 degrees and seemed much hotter and I saw cyclists out on the road--they looked like they were working hard--yeah, this one guy going up that long climb, North on Swan, to Skyline--he was suffering. Now I know why the riders in the peleton are called prisoners. You don't own the road, the road owns you.

I'll make my peace and stop complaining--I mean, I did want a good commute--and I got it.

At TMC I had a physical. They say I'm in good shape, and were pretty impressed with my blood pressure, which seemed stronger than they noramally see. But the nurses there gave me all kinds of shots and I had to have a blood draw--and I was saying, "Hey this is for nurses and doctors and stuff--I'm just the library guy!" "No--doesn't matter," they said. "Give me your arm--" O! how I hate shots.

So my last day at AHSL is Thursday. Friday evening we're all going to get together and meet at Gentle Ben's and everyone will have a few beers and hang out. Gentle Reader, if you are in Tucson pls come by and wish me the best. My plan is to try to kiss as many of the girls as possible, so I've invited all the ones I like. With luck, they won't bring their boyfriends!

Allure Libre!

New Job! New Job!

Well you know I got's me a new job. Yep. More money, 8-2-4:30 mon - fri . A bad-ass commute that will either get me killed--or turn me into a mutant.

There's the Danger Commute, and then there's the little girl commute. I like to see the bunnies and I do appreciate the song birds. I like to hear the rooster crow in the mornings. I like to see the horses on River Ave. I like to see the pretty girls out jogging...

Riding on River, and then riding on Ina/Skyline--this is a man's ride; gritty! fast! speed! idiots behind the wheels of automobiles! Soccer Moms on cell phones! Holy sh_t but it is awesome. I feel like the Big Bad Wolf amongst the sheep.

But the speedy weedies could most likely care less. They're probably thinking to themselves, "Why can't you just drive a car like everybody else?"

I start the new job March 13th--I'll take about 10 days off to ride my bike and train for the 400 km brevet.

Friday March 3rd, after work, we're all meeting at Gentle Ben's. You're invited!

Cheers!

Cochise Revisited

Back in October, my bike in the hotel room after Cochise...

I read the official results of the Cochise Classic right before the weekend, and it included all the statistics on the event. Concerning the 252 mile ride, 30 riders had signed up and only 19 finished.

This isn't very scientific, but if you look at the times, you will see that at number 16, I was leading the second half of the riders. The storm and the wind, as you know Gentle Readers, pounded away at me and my fellow cyclists--we were slowed down almost to a crawl in that wind and rain, and hail.

The last three riders that came in were a good 2.5 to 3 hours behind my finising time--that means that 11 racers between me and the last three didn't finish. DNF.

Its clear I was pretty lucky, mes amis.

A River Runs Thru It

I haven't offically told the office, just a few close friends, but I have accepted a new position at TMC. A pretty good gig--and of course one of the great things about it is that I will be able to bike into the office. My new library is housed where the indoor pool used to be, so there's a locker room just right there. And right outside are bike lockers. One of the HR girls that helped me out during the interviewing process got one reserved for me.

At UMC they had some and I went to ask about it at UMC security a few years ago. So I walked in and the head or supervisor was a woman who looked like a weight lifter. "No, you can't have one, they are for UMC employees only," would have sufficed. Instead she gave me a lecture about how they cost $40,000.

Anyway, I had taken Bev's car to the dealership, and then would bike home--it was such a nice day. So I set out to ride to TMC to get a feel for what would be my new bike commute. Boy was I in for a surprise!

First of all, the river bike path runs out quickly after Campbell Ave. I had always tought it went thru. So I rode up Campbell North from River Ave to Ina. Ina Road eventually turns into Skyline Drive, which I'm happy to report has been re-paved and there's bike line all the way to Swan. At Swan, there's about a 4 mile downhill into the office.

The thing I notied on Skyline/Ina is that people drive very fast. The pavement is all new and so is the bike lane--but again, it wasn't even rush hour and the road was busy and people were driving like bats out of Hell. I was able to ride quite fast myself--so I'll give it a try.

I stopped in a local bike shop and looked at a map and got their take on the commute. They offered up traveling down Glenn to TMC. So this might be an alternative to the danger roads mentioned above--or for when I running late and just want to get to work no-frills. There is no way I'm going to try and drive every day. I don't need that kind of stress.

Wish me luck everyone!

Love

300 Tales

I will tell you the sad story of my week. But I forced the happy ending I wanted as I could not sit at home while the wind howled through the desert landscape. My fellow Randonneurs where out there and I decided that I would get on the bike, ride from home, and meet Steve on the course to show my support.

Wednesday night my dog Callie woke me up about 2am because she needed to go outside. That was the start of things. Callie was sick all day on my birthday, and most of Friday. I would not be able to leave her alone in the house because she would have to go outside every half hour to suffer the runs.

After $200 at the vet and pills and injections, Callie was slowly getting back to her normal self. I had to forego the brevet, Gentle Readers, to take care of the dog. Bev had Nat'l Guard all weekend, and my neighbors who help me out in times like this, were out of town and I was taking care of their place.

Late Saturday afternoon when Callie finally took her first solid shit in three days--I could wait no more and jumped on the bike and took off. I kind of knew where I might meet Steve on the course--and I had called Susan our RBA for intellegence reports. My ride had been ready since Thursday so I got in the saddle and took off--my plan to draft Steve up the I-10 frontage road.

Mes Amis the wind was brutal and must have known my intentions. The wind was strong and relentless. I just tried to keep a steady pace and try to have fresh legs to draft Steve. I would ride out about 15 miles to meet him, then help him ride at least to the Picacho Peak Dairy Queen--further if I could get a ride back. My plan was to also ride with Steve in the darkness for the last long-haul to Casa Grande, bum a ride part way home if I had to.

My new Lumotec Lamp...

As I neared the Marana exit off I-10, I saw three lone riders on the course before I saw Steve. He and a group of other riders just pulled out of the mini-mart controle. I turned around and then sped up to meet them. I'm guessing Steve saw me and the pace line slowed for me to catch them.

What can I say? I rode and took my turn with the pace line. I was feeling strong and had to slow a few times because I think I was going a little too fast. The guys had already over 100 miles on their legs. In the pace line, John Heller and Eric Ewing caught up to where I was sitting and they couldn't believe it was me. I quickly negotiated a lift back to Tucson should I ride all the way to Casa Grande. I also had to promise that after the ride I would go out to the resturant for beer and grub.


The hub on my LeMond

So I rode with Steve and three other fellows up the frontage Rd. In my zeal to hit the road, I didn't quite bring enough warm clothes so as we neared the final controle at La Palma, I had to hang back out of the wind to stay warm--and wouldn't you know it--I flatted about a mile from the I-10 overpass. Everybody was cheerful and waited while I struggled with the tire.

I believe I rode about 75 or 80 miles. I just had to get out and ride. If I would have done the 300 I would have had to come home to a mess with the dog and Bev in my face, and I would be having to push a rug shampooer after riding 190 miles. So everything worked out just fine.

At the resturant, John and Eric paid for my dinner and beer. They had a change of clothes and there I was in my riding tights. I got some looks from the folks in the place but I didn't seem to care after a while. It was a good thing I did the ride because shortly after we had dinner the guys were falling asleep and were unable to drive or even stand. I ended up driving up back to Tucson while everyone else slept.

The best thing about this little trek is that my Schmitd Dynamo worked flawlessly. It was given to me by Gerry Goode, and although he complained about drag, I could feel none. The Lumotec light given to me by Steve worked well and I have one less thing to worry about. The light just looks like a motorcycle light and I can see the road and ride faster.

Yes the 300 seems to be my curse. The last one it rained and this one left me unable to even start. I'll have to do a make-up 300 someplace. But the 400 is around the corner, and then the 600--which I will be ready for come Hell or Highwater!

Allure Libre!

Ride Report and Rant (sans expletives)

I've ridden in the last few days and it has been okay--kind of cold on Wednsday, but there was an awesome sunrise. I met this guy named Alex on Mountain Ave and rode with him for awhile. His ride is 17 miles and he rides it 3 days a week. I was cold but he seemed nice and warm because he had on more layers. This morning I had on more layers and my ride was much more pleasant.

Well, there's an unknow cyclist up in UMC. He got hit Tuesday at Mountain and Roger. I know this intersection well. Last night on the way home I went through that intersection and I could see where the police had painted marks and arrows on the pavement.

Apparently at this 4 Way Stop, a lady ran the stop sign and just turned left and ran over the guy. He's still unconscience and had no ID, so they don't know who he is. They suspect that he's an out-of-town visitor, maybe a guy out here training in Tucson because of the nice weather.

There's also this student named Tina that I see around and say hi too. She's a triathlet and soon to be medical student. A few days ago the same thing happened to her--a guy turned left, and instead of running her over, she slammed into his truck. Her collar bone shattered. At least the guy stopped and helped her out and got her to the Hospital.

So I am being extra careful these days, mes amis, and I'm wearing the Road ID Steve got me as a Christmas present. If I do get run over, the ID had phone numbers and tells emergency guys that I don't have allergic reactions to stuff etc etc.

I helped this girl out at the reference desk with some of her research this morning--statistics from CDC or someplace like that. Anyway, looking at the number of how people get killed, we are much more likely to get killed in a car wreck--like 30,000 more times--than to get killed riding a bike.

But Tucson is kind of messed up--like this guy said in the paper in the editorial: lived in Tucson for four decades and seen that Tucson has never had a plan for growth, its run by developers and car dealerships--and do you think they give a Rat's Ass about streets and hwys and us getting to our jobs? Gentle Readers, as long as they can get our asses in one of their custom homes that's about all they care about.

Its not easy to get around parts of the city, and Mountain Ave, which is the premire bike commute street in Tucson with its eleoquently designed bike friendly 30 mph (for cars) Avenue of Love--O no! Its the speed zone for the slackers who work at UMC and go to UofA that are running late, trying to beat the traffic, and trying to get there. Everybody speeds, nobody stops at the lights or 4 way stops. I usually have to physically put my arm out and yell "Stop!" And they act surprised to see me. If they even see me at all.

On a happy note--the last few days I drove, it sucked so bad. When I drove to the park, then biked--where I missed all the backed up traffic--I actually got home 10 minutes earlier. It was still light outside and I had time to take Callie to the park to play ball.

Owt

Winkelman in View. O! The Joy!

(Click on the picture to see larger view of Steve at the Shrine of Our Lady of Randonneurs)

When Lewis and Clark were on the Voyage of Discovery back in '04 (That's 1804), Lewis was writing in his journal that the Pacific was close. Indians they saw on the Columbia River were wearing British waist coats they had traded, and caps British sailors usually wore. When Lewis did see the ocean a few days later, he wrote, "Ocean in View. O! The Joy!" Well mes amis, you can imagine how Steve and Yours felt with Winkelman quickly coming up to greet us!


Our Voyage of Discovery begins in Catalina. Claire's is open. The plan is to have breakfast while the sun warms up the road. Catalina is a bit higher in elevation than Tucson--its freezing outside by the way.

So we're in the Cafe and the local Old Farts and Ranchers--guys who had cattle before all the land speculators came--hack, laugh, bellow, wheeze and cough. They tease one of the waitresses because she's taking "Orgimick Chemistry" there at the University.


Mystery Van with all our stuff.

Gentle Readers, explitives can only describe how cold it is. In fact this is one of the coldest times I can remember going out on the bike. It is January though... We are in the mountians... And we will be climbing up into the mountains... Hmm. I guess next time I should think about someplace warmer.


Claire's was good. Steve had too much coffee--way too much coffee. Anyway, if there's anything that goes with Randonneering in Arizona, its cattle guards. This butt-ugly cattle guard is the most dangerous I've ever encountered. It will be a short ride if Steve falls and breaks something.


While Steve surveyed the Tortolita Mts to the West, I rode up a few miles to the entrance of Bioshpere 2. I took this picture of what looks like old Hwy 77 up to Oracle. I'm afraid that its so cold my camera's not working properly. But I was able to get this shot and a few more.


Ready for the climb to Oracle. That'll warm us up.


The 13 mile ride up to Oracle is cold, mes amis. As we climb, all the cold weather clothes keep us warm, but make us sweat. You have to be sure and drink all the time or you can get dehydrated pretty fast.

In Oracle I get a flat. I have to pull the thorn out of my tire with tweezers. Flat tires can slow you down because it takes a few minutes to sort everyting out. Even with two people working together to get back on the road, it still takes time. If you try to hurry you can screw up and have a flat in another mile. Anyway, best to have a flat on the up hill--before a speedy down hill--umm, if you get a flat on the way down to Mammoth, at the speeds we went--well--you would probably not live to tell the tale. You would have to settle for your buddies telling the tale.

And the downhill ride was great, and I felt pretty comfortable going 30 to 35 mph for 12 to 15 miles to Mammoth. So we got to Mammoth and stopped at Circle K. Just got a little water to make sure everything was filled up--since I'd not been futher than the Circle K, I didn't want any surprises.


Just past the Circle K outside of Mammoth, I saw this shrine at the base of the Catholic Church of the Holy Sister of Sacrament-- or something like that. So we paid our respects, hoping for safety, good roads, and a good place to eat in Winkelman


Our prayers answered, mes amis!

20 miles to Winkelman so says the road signs. And it is sweet because we are gradually descending. The road is pretty smooth, and we're riding 17-19 mph. This is great but of course we know it will suck coming back. Climb climb climb--climb some more. O well, enjoy the road and the wind and sun and freedom you feel on the bike. Home jobs mundane Saturday f_ckin chores and shopping malls are many many miles away.

4 or 5 milse out, we see two huge smokestacks down in the valley below. "Must be Winkelman." I say. "Must be." says Steve. By now I am starving!

So we arrive in mining town of Winkelman, and before you can blink an eye, you're in the mining town of Hayden--and just as you are about to leave Hayden--Hayden is another blink, you come upon the two choices for food. Rosa's Mexican Resturant, or Los Dos Amigos. You can guess which one we chose--If you said the one with the least amount of bullet holes in their sign, you guesed right! Only two bullet holes in Los Dos Amigos! And we liked the sound of it.

We were made to feel most welcome and had a good hot lunch. Our waitress said the building didn't have any heat, so she and the cook were staying warm over by the stove. We didn't mind. I was just glad to have a seat and eat some pretty good Mexican food. I would definintly go back and eat there again.

Kind of weird thinking about it as I write this-- but how lucky can you be to have a fast descent, find a place to chow down with your name on it, and a strong tailwind on the return! Yes Gentle Readers, we had an awesome tail wind that got us back to Mammoth in no time. We were going back just about as fast as we came down. Our Lady of Randonneurs must have heard our prayers!

What can I tell you about the return trip from Mammoth up to Oracle? It was a cold and windy long-haul. The sun was out but is was not a warm sun. Still, we had to put on sunscreen. And we had to wear our warmers--that makes you sweat. But the miles melted away and the worst was over when we finally reached Oracle. It was exhausting.

A quick 12 mile descent back to Claire's and the Mystery Van--98 miles later and we are back.
I've already done 3 century rides in January--am I crazy or what? This ride was just a little tougher than most because it was so cold.

The 300 km in February 11th. See you there!

Owt

Ride Report, or Back in the Saddle

Yes I'm back in the saddle again. My commute this morning, although not the long route, was cold but brisk--just the way I like it. Well, the first 1/4 mile was freezing and I was wondering what the Hell I was doing--why wasn't I just driving in like the rest of the mob?

Then I remembered the last few weeks were traffic has been unbearably slow. Its because of the Snow Birds--what we used to call Blue Hairs back in Oklahoma. Its lighter longer in the evenings which will make my long commute home better. I can see, motorists can see me, and I can ride faster.

This weekend Steve Tartar and Yours have planed an epic ride to Winkelman--which will be about 25 or 30 miles past Mammoth. Mammoth (click to see blog entry) was a fun ride back then, so now to Winkelman. To save about 40 miles I believe we will leave from Claire's Cafe. This of course means we will have to have a hearty breakfast before we start the climb to Oracle. Mammoth will have a fast winding downhill with some crosswinds. I hope its not too cold.

I checked in with Gerry Goode and he's given me the particulars to Winkelman, including a place to have lunch. We're leaving from Claire's because if we try to go from my place to Winkelman, we'll run out of daylight on the return. And if we leave real early its just too cold. On the brevets we can drop our warm gear at the controles. But I hate to carry all that suff with us because we have a pretty major climb from Mammoth back up to Oracle.

Steve and I are preparing mentally and physically for the 300 kilometer February 11th. I'll do some long commutes into work to get the bike adjusted and my butt ready for the long haul. Last year it rained for the whole 16 hours we were riding. I suppose I'll be telling about that one for a long time.

Allure Libre!

My back is out, and, My gas grill is on fire

Well, Gentle Readers, since the new year I've done two centuries. Not bad really. But I am reporting that my back is shot and I finally dragged myself into the chiropractor for some relief.

Its the old horseback riding mishap from years ago that has me down. When I was a few years younger--what seems another life--I had two horses. I loved them dearly, and while going to school in South Dakota, rode them on a pretty regular basis. I became an accomplished rider, and had a few spills here and there, but had a fall and really messed up my lower back. Nowadays when I do something that's just a little to much, like try to lift something too heavy, or twist the wrong way--zing--the back goes and the pain is draining.

I took today off as the doctor told me to move around and twist and bend to stay loose. I got the gas grill ready and played fetch with Callie, my dog. I was just getting the steaks for dinner ready when I noticed the smoke--like something was burning. It has been kind of breezy the last few days, and well the fuckin thing was on fire--the grease and stuff that slowly accumulates on the grill caught fire. So I turned on the hose and sprayed a little water on the grill and it went out. Of course when it went out there was this huge cloud of smoke that I'm sure everyone in Dog Mtn could have seen.

I called Bev on her cell to tell her that the grill burned up. So she suggested I go over the neighbors (they're out of town and we are watching their house) and use their brand new grill. I did but the the steaks didn't come out very good--the dog got most of the steak and she's happily sleeping on the couch as I write this.

Oh yeah, Thursday night the refrigerator went out and I had to haul all our food to the nieghbor's house and put in their fridge (that included those steaks mentioned above) oh and my nieghbor had to go to Georgia all of the sudden and he asked me to take down his Christmas tree lights on his roof so he wouldn't get a $250 fine from the Dog Mtn Home Owner's Assoc.

My nieghbor, also named Bruce, and my self, put up the lights back in November. It was a two man job then, and taking them down was also a two man job--well you might guess how I probably threw out my back--climbing up and down on the roof of this huge house in a cold evening wind. Its a wonder I didn't fall off the roof and break my neck. But these things have to be done, mes amis!

So I spent Friday waiting for the refrigerator repair man to show, and luckily he had the part that went bad. So after mopping the floor--again--and bringing back the food from the nieghbors, I think I had a peanut butter and jelly sandwhich for dinner.

If you're still reading this crap you will realize that I don't have a bourgeois life style where I can just go for joy rides on expensive bicycles wearing my expensive and swank roadie clothes--there's always shit I have to deal with and if I'm lucky I get to go out and ride.

Well, next post I will have adventurs and photos so stay tuned!

Owt!

200 Km Brevet

C'est moi, mes amis! A la finis!

This was a tough one, mes amis--43 miles of headwind to the turn-around controle where lunch awaited. Steve and I rode strong, and surged remarkably far despite gusty winds. I had to hang on Steve's wheel the last few miles to the lunch stop because I seemed to have some kind of personal vendetta with the Forces of Nature today. I was not going to let the head wind break me--but I was hurting. The controle with food, water, and snacks was just in the nick of time!

The first part of the ride was uneventful but fun because everybody was feeling relaxed. John Heller, Eric Ewing, Paul Layton and Dave Peashock--and others--road the first 15 miles or so at a casual friendly pace. As people got warmed up and all salutations, gossip and stories of other rides got exchanged--things played out.

Paul and another recumbent bike fellow found their groove and moved on up. I could see Paul's new tail light for many miles until he either turned it off or was too far ahead.

Steve got his groove and was riding strong-- and I followed. We were moving right along and Dave Peashock stayed with us until the first controle. At the first controle I noticed one of the stronger riders from Phoenix just leaving the controle as we pulled in.

Eric and John were pulling a friend of their's along as it was her first brevet and she's never ridden over 70 miles. Well I got it in my mind to catch the woman from Phoenix and maybe get a pace-line going. The Phoenix people do ride strong. It took some time but right around Coolidge we caught up with her, but with our momentum to catch her we rolled past and dropped her after a mile. I bet she started out too fast with the really really fast guys like Sandiway, and blew out early. That's something you can't do in randonneering. But she probably gave it her best shot.



At the next controle, which was back at the starting point, we shed out warm clothes, filled up our water bottles, and grabbed our Camelbaks. We had to ride 43 miles West on Indian 15 to the lunch stop, and then turn around for the finish.

The Headwind was brutal Gentle Readers. Relentless is a word for it--and we slugged it out with the road, mile after mile. And really, we were riding strong--14 to 15 mph whereas last year, we would have only been able go 12--or even less. It was a headwind like I had in Cochise; a storm front is moving in the clouds and you can smell the rain. It is a lovely smell, but it rides that wind and that wind will kick your butt!

Out on Indian 15, I had seen mustangs. They're probably not mustangs but feral horses--which means that once they were domesticated, you know standing around endlessly in a stall or ram-shackle corral--but now they're free and running with the herd and they can't be re-captured. I saw about twenty of them peering down at us uneasily from a high ridge. They looked strong and defiant.


Miles ahead we see a group of riders and we start to make our way to them. Steve asks me if we should try to ride with them. They were the young, fit, looking guys at the bike shop controle--kind of cockey but you know how young dudes can be; they think they're invincible. Sooner than we thought, Steve and I were right there on their wheels. We said hello and they were all smiles--except one of the lads was in trouble--slouched over and bearly able to keep his head up. So it seemed the two would do their best to pull the suffering one to the controle.

Gentle Readers, I must tell you that I have been that fellow being pulled in by his friends--in fact I was near to the same condition about five miles from the controle. I needed water and food. I was running out of power--and the head wind was even stronger! Now we began to see other rides on their way back, and this was a good sign because it meant we were going to make it. And of course the other riders were flying because now they had the tailwind!

Steve was holding up fingers. "Four miles!" "Three miles!" "Hang on, Dude--two miles!" At last--Susan's truck! Food! I could write a book about the food, so I will say I stuffed as much of it in face as I could--then stuffed my pockets full of whatever else I could carry. Cookies, chips, power bars, granola bars, Double Stuffed Oreos if you can believe it! Two bananas...

Susan a la controle.

A tailwind like the one we had is like a dream. We rode for 47 minutes at speeds of 22 to 25 mph. We rode hard as we could, and sometimes we road at 27 to 30 mph. To gain back my strenght, I continuously re-hydrated and nibbled every morsal of food I had--until it was all gone--because I knew what would no doubt happen--and it did happen, Gentle Readers--

The last 12 miles, by Steve's account, was the distance we rode--once again--into a brutal headwind. The wind shifted as we made our approach back into Casa Grande. I began to lose heart because we had been riding so strong, and I wanted to blow away our time on the 200 km from last year. It looked like we would just have to settle for finishing, which we did, about 4:20 pm in the afternoon.


Dave Peashock at the finish of the 200 Km Brevet.

Steve had to leave and get back to Scottsdale. I decided to wait for For John, Eric, and Dave--and it was about an hour before the Phoenix woman showed up. Half hour later Eric and John showed up, and they had done the smart thing and stopped by Dairy Queen to get ice cream before coming into the finish--a tradition I think I'd like to follow!

Eric and John, Mr. D and Mr. Q

So we hung out and talked and ate some more sandwhiches left overs from the lunch stop--and cookies, and muffins! and more sandwhiches! And after a while I started feeling good about my ride and everything, knowing that no matter what, I can do this. Always will be the people faster and ahead of you. And you will be faster and stronger than others. But in the end we all made it.

Yours with Susan Plonsky, aka, French Toast

Allure Libre ! Viva les Rondonneurs!

French Toast, Steak Tartar, and The Bandit

We did the Casa Grande Century this last Sunday, and it was fun--got to have time to eat at Denny's before the ride started. We took the lead from our RBA and had French Toast--Later, our RBA pulled the pace line for miles, and we said it must be that French Toast she had for breakfast! So Steve and I gave her the new handle, "French Toast"


My bike fits neatly into the back of 22X


Susan, our Beloved RBA, had ridden a 200 Km the day before.


The first ride of 2006, and Steve's third time to ride the Casa Grande Century.

Well, right away we jumped on a pack and rode in different pacelines. There were about 200 people spread out on the road--but it was fun to ride in a pack, then move up to a faster pack, and kind of leap-frog our way up. Everyone was friendly and we talked to many people. These GABA Phoenix guys were different from the GABA Tucson fellows--GAY Buh Tucson guys seem to be old and grumpy--Whereas the Phoenix people were all a mixture of young and old. Even women road--and they were fit and they road fast! Everybody was enjoying themselves.

At the first controle they had food and water. Steve and I stuffed our pokets and kept going, as we're used to fast five-minute stops on brevets. Most people however stopped and talked to friends and visited. Some people turned around or went a different route to do the metric century. We had been riding in a paceline with three young women that pulled our group right along--they turned off to do the metric century and they looked strong. As we were leaving, I over-heard one of the girl's boyfriend saying to another guy, "Holy shit, she's killing us..."

Steve and I pushed on--and most of the time we had a tough headwind... We meet up with French Toast and she pulled and pulled and pulled! Dang! Susan has a coach--a virtual coach--a thing she does on the web--he calls her sometimes, hmmm--but she will not give up any coaching secrets! Steve and Susan kept talking about food, and the matter of SteakTartar came up over and over again. All I really heard is that it's illegal, what ever the hell it is!


We actually pulled in a few stragglers thru Eloy and on to the big lunch in Casa Grande! Gentle Readers, you must know that the ride cost $20 to enter, and after December 31st, the ride amount was up to $30. Well I decided I would not pay--and ride as a Bandit. I didn't get the commerative Casa Grande socks--Bummer! But I did go to the lunch and they had a ton of food so really I didn't feel too guilty.


Peanut Butter and chocolate cake--Susan's super-secret training formula revealed!

What can I say, without Susan to pull, Steve and Yours struggled through the head wind, and it got stronger the last 17 miles of State Route 87 back to Chandler. But actually we were riding pretty strong ourselves, a far cry from last time I was on this road. That was Paul Layton's brevet this last September... O! I will not forget that ride for as long a I live! We affectionately call the the Hunt Hwy the Grunt Hwy. We were glad to be off 87. Only a few miles to go, and suddenly no head wind!

We got stuck at a light on Grunt Hwy, and a pack of riders came up behind us. We started out, but they were going so slow--I wanted to be done, mes amis! We got up to the front and broke away and just hauled ass--every light to the finish was green for us and we road like out pants were on fire! I know those guys behind us hit every light and had to wait!


Yours at the end of the ride. We did the 100 miles in just over 6 hours--that is pretty darn fast for Steak Tartar and The Bandit, and considering the headwind. There is no doubt in my mind that riding in a paceline is the way to go, mes amis. And, what the Hell, over Christams I ate and drank to much and put on a few pounds--but this will quickly burn away.

Just so glad I'm back in the saddle and feeling strong after several weeks off!

Owt