Rudi

The Prisoner by Rudi Nadler

After work a few nights ago, I dropped by Pima Street Bikes. I had called Phil to make sure he would be there—sometimes he has to leave early—I needed a few tubes…

It’s not often—or ever—that one meets a Jedi Master. But there he was; The Legend—Rudi Nadler… I could tell the moment I met him that this was a man on a much higher level spiritually, and intellectually than most mere members of the mob—like Yours for instance. So I stood humbly checking my manners and waiting as politely as I could while he and Phil, whom I call “The Professor” finished up their business—which was artwork Rudi was giving to Phil and Judy as a gift.

“Phil says you’re the Randonneur.”

Whoa—an audience with the Master. Stand yer arse up straight, Brucie!

Gulp. “Umm—yes…”

“Paris-Brest-Paris… That’s this year? Ah! Yes this Summer. I shall be happy when I’m riding that one day!”

He smiled at me and I felt glad that he knew of us Randonneurs.

“My friend Stef bought a print from you he said…” What a stupid thing for me to say!

“Stef? I remember him—he got the Prisoner. Yes. Do you want one?”

“Umm… I need tubes… yeah—” Think of Napoleon Dynamite when he says to himself “Idiot!”

“Of course! Bye Phil! And Bruce--See you on the road!”

What a cool Dude. We shook hands and he was off on his single speed.

Cheers!

Fire and Ice... Cool

When Arizonans think of historic Picacho Peak--and see it as they drive down I-10, the Picacho Peak Dairy Queen icon flashes in their minds--and now the two seem to symbolize each other.

Most probably don't know that the Interstate they've been on is the old stage coach line, and that just east of the DQ across the road was the stage coach stop... What's kind of cool to think about today is that we've rode pretty much the stage coach line from the Fry's at Cortaro Farms Rd and Silverbell--which is just a mile from another stage coach stop (the site still remains as part of a steak house) to the next stop at the Picacho Peak Dairy Queen 30 miles Norhtwest.


A knat has collided with the Wing--John, the veterinarian of our peleton, along with Joan, have flushed out the insect wreckage from Wing's eye, and patched it with tape and DQ-embossed paper napkins. The Wing says he feels no pain--but I know it must hurt.


Our arrival at the DQ is uneventful as we've had a nice tailwind. It had just opened and we all had a nice breakfast. There's no crowd so we take our time. Since its getting hot early--90 degrees by 9am as we're rolling out--Larry offers Kathy endurolites.


Joan is ready to roll--let's get back before the headwind picks up!


The Wing is undaunted. I'll keep an eye out (no pun intended) so that he dosen't crash into me. Actually Dude, stay in the back so we'll be safe... ha ha ha ha!


Larry and Joan on the tandum have pulled us through the strong headwinds as we head back to Tucson. We've stopped at the Chevron at the Marana Exit. We get ice and water. Gatorade is three for two bucks--a good deal. So we relax.


When the wind died down, Kathy worked on some sprints. She's getting very strong, and has lost 13 pounds!


Its nice to relax. We've made good time and only have 11 miles until home.


As we're sitting and chatting, a car pulls up. At first we all think the car is overheating, but it becomes appearent there's a fire. The owner of car quickly gets his laundry and other things out of the trunk!


I got the fire extingisher and passed it to John--all the customers got in their cars and quickly took off. The manager grabbed the fire extingisher from John, saying "They'll charge me 50 bucks to re-charge this thing..." We all grabbed our bikes and were ready to roll out when shortly thereafter the car's tire's exploded--and there was a BIG fire! Kathy really emphised us leaving--as we were at a gas station--and the whole place could explode! I agreed whole-heartedly!


The Rural Fire Dept showed up pretty fast--and those guys moved! The fire was out in seconds with the foam they sprayed on the car.

Well, the store manager saved his 50 bucks, but some poor old guy lost his car. I think had we just gone ahead and used the fire extingisher in the first place, the scene would have been less dramatic and the fire out.

Cheers!

Bike Path Photos

This is my 12 mile ride home on the new paved river path. In the previous post, I rode in for the first time on River Rd. The path you see in the photos is down below in the Riallto River bed.


I put my campus bike in the locker over the weekend. Normally its parked over by the Pain Clinic during the week, so I can step out the door and ride it to lunch somewhere off campus, or ride to the pool for lunch-time lap swim.


Here's the new Alvernon Rd Bridge. Kind of confusing here because you think the bike path just off Alvernon Rd will take you on your way to the bike path.


It doesn't get you very far, as you can see. You have to ride over the bridge and make a dangerous left onto the bike path at the stop light. Coming in to work, there's a way that goes under the bridge, but you're on the north side of the river. I'm not sure if it goes under the Alvernon Bridge--must be a bridge or two before. I'll figure it out one of these days. Its not safe and very ass-backwards.

You'd think with all the planning and money put into this project, they wouldn't have screwed this up--


Pretty much looks like this for several miles.


The river is dry as a bone of course, and there always seems to be a hot dry head-wind on this section.


Be sure to take this bridge and ride the rest on the way to Campbell Ave on the south side of the river bank.


You can continue on here on the dirt, but its rough and you can't go very fast on a road bike. Used to be this was the end of the trail. Last year when I first started my new job, this is as far as I could get on the bike path.


The new bridge here is what you would want to take--you know its right because you'll see the Racquet Ball club there on the south side of the river. I believe one day last year on an exploratory ride I rode up to it and it was mostly a dirt path to the club. The bridge is way cool, mes amis...


The thing about my commute is that I ride right into the sun comming up on the way to work, and ride right into the sun as it sets. As the sun goes down, things cool off quickly in the desert. But right then and there, its about 97 degrees--that's actually quite cool. When its 103 that's when its a hard ride.


This is the bridge at Campbell Ave. River Rd is a few blocks north. You've got to ride over the bridge, but don't ride on the pavement with the cars--ride on the narrow sidewalk to the other side. This is a busy congested area, and you're feeling like a god because you easily move past the traffic and frustrated mortorists. I know because I've been there myself. It always seems that the light turns green and you just sit there not moving--then the light turns red and you get to move up about ten feet...


You need to make a quick right turn and go under Campbell and stay on the north side of the river bank--on the way to work, I could continue on to the left, but it quickly turns into dirt until you get to where that new bridge is at the Racquet Ball Club.


Now its about four miles to my car from the Mountain Bridge. I used to take the Mountain Bridge up Mountain, then to Glenn. Glenn goes all the way East and to my office. A nice road but lots of lights and stop signs. River Rd is fastest, but now I have the river path. Not the fastest but still a good ride.


Sadly, the cars we own sit unused, on average, 23 hours a day. One good thing is that where I park the car, trees provide shade all day.


Front wheel comes off, and the bike fits nicely in the trunk. Then I have a quick 8 or 9 mile drive back home. I just leave the bike stowed as-is and ready for the next morning's ride of glory!

Commute on River Road

This morning I rode in on brand-new River Rd as it’s all fresh paved from Campbell Ave to Alvernon Bridge—for those of my Gentle Readers who don’t live in this Sun-Slopped Sit’tee, it just means that a sweet commute affords me speed and comfort. The other way is fine but bumpy, and then there’s the runners and dog owners etc etc. One must be polite, smile, wave and impress the mob that cyclists are not a bunch of self-loving hooligans.

River Road from Campbell to where I need to be going is just like a fat lazy snake sunning itself on the rocks. Its smooth and clear and you can see up ahead, and there’s no saloons or gas stations or dog grooming or tanning salons to pulling in and out of for dah motorists—no sir—just A to B. I would have taken photos for you but I was running late and had to move out. On the way home I may take some photos for y’all to ponder over the weekend

I would have liked to ride more this week but when arriving at my parking spot under the shade trees, and removing my bike from the trunk of the car—I had flat tires… Bummer. That was on the LeMond, so I took the old Raleigh again.

Saw other roadies and everyone waved. Saw older blokes riding Mt Bikes, and they were sweating profusely, which I thought rather odd—until I came up to a stop-light whereas I felt fat beads of sweat running down the gauntlet of my hairy back.

I do have a few concerns about my commute. The air is dusty. Its very hot. Pollen from the trees, and pollution is thick in the air. Its getting worse in Tucson, mes amis. My lungs often feel like they’re taking a beating. Even now in the office as I write this—my eyes are a little red and stinging, my throat hurts a little. I have this fear of wearing down my immune system over the summer and getting pneumonia again. Hey! Forced vacation!

Until then, however,

Allure Libre!

A Week of Commuting by Bike

C'est moi, mes amis!

I logged quite a few miles commuting this week. Mostly it was uneventful but there were a few high points. First of all, the bike route is completed and I can ride about 12 miles on the bike path on the river, all the way to my office. Mostly the second half of my ride there are no runners, walkers, or other cyclists to be seen. This means I can ride at a good clip and not anger others by going too fast.

Sometimes, the speedy weedies, or the Lancers—guys all decked out in their race stuff—blast down the narrow river trail disregarding people walking their dogs, or walking with their kids, etc etc… You get the idea. I say to them, if you want to ride so freakin’ fast, go ride on River Ave, you skinny, boney, little bastards. Anyway, the river path is great, but there’s these “seams” where the sections connect, and damn, but they give you a jolt when you ride over them. That can take a toll on your arse after a few miles.

Then only reason I’m riding on the river path right now is that River Ave Starting at Campbell is under construction and traffic is a little slow as there’s only one lane. I think when its done, I can ride River Ave (the river path runs along River Ave for the most part) Most of Ina/Skyline has been repaved, and I believe all that work is done—so I’ll be doing that commute here soon.

Lastly, I had a very very close call. Riding into work a car pulled out in front of me on Swan Ave and drove in the bike lane to merge. Swan is a long steep hill and I come down it going close to 35 mph. When you cross the bridge over the river, you can get some good speed which carries you through to Glenn a few miles. The bike lane is nice but there's traffic. Some people drive into the bike lane, which is between slow traffic on the right, and slow traffic on the left to "cheat" and get around and cut in. So I was going along and this lady pulled out in front of me and into the bike lane so she could try to squeeze into the next lane to her left. I had to get out of the way real fast (she almost hit me right then) and jumped in between a small space of the two cars in the next lane--I'm going very fast mind you--and I need to get over in the bike lane real quick or I'm gonna get run over. Well, the lady is still in the bike lane and trying to get over between where I was between the two cars, as those drivers eased up to give me some space. She still hadn't seen me and was moving over. I was waving at her and saying, "Hey! HEY!" to get her attention. Traffic started to slow and just as she pulled into me, I shot out between the rear end of the car in front of me, and the front bumper of her car.

Dang! At the light, which had turned red, people sitting in their cars were looking at me in disbelief. A young guy in his car rolled down his window and said, "Dude! That idiot almost ran you over!"

The woman was elderly and probably just has a hard time seeing—but she did drive down the bike lane for about three hundred yards and forced me into a difficult situation—I wish she would have just waited for better chance to turn and merge.

Cheers!

Cave Ride

Rolf on the left and Dave Glasgow on the right. We met Rolf a few years ago when we were out riding at the Park. Rolf is from Germany and his company sends him out to Tucson a few weeks every year. When he got into town, he rode out to see if he could find us. Its been about a year since I've been to Saguaro Nat'l Park--cool to run into an old friend.


The Park was closed for five months for re-paving. Now the new asphalt is as smooth as a U of A coed's tight sweet--asphalt is just really smooth and fine, O my Gentle Reader of this Blog!

But Lo! Speed limit is only 15 mph. Evil Park Ranger Bob who hates bikes will patrol the 9 mile loop--and tickets are $75 for speeding. So now most cyclists ride elsewhere. Evil Park Ranger Bob is happy.


This is from the top of the parking lot up at Colossal Cave, looking NW. Bottom right of the picture is Old Spanish Trail. We've ridden 10 miles from Saguro National Park to the Cave.




It was nearing 100 degrees, and there was a strong headwind as we neared the Cave--it felt like a blast furnace. We took turns in a pace line for the climb to the Cave. It was a pretty difficult 10 miles of climbing. Mainly my throat got dried out from the hot dry air. Rolf was very strong and pulled a good deal of the way as we started to get tired and fall back.


Looking South down into Mexico.





Colossal Cave's existance was kept secret for many years for fear that it would be damaged by tourists, sight, and thrill seekers. I think caves are rather boring--there's a drinking fountain to re-fill water bottles, a place to take a leak, and vistas all around. Best part is going back because you get to go all-out fast pretty much all the way to Saguaro.


Although Rolf is from Germany, we said we considered him a local boy, and that made him pretty happy. You know how it goes, your company sends you to a place, you live in a hotel, you don't know anybody--that would suck. Then you get in with the locals and learn the ins and outs. Dave and Rolf will spend everyday riding, and Rolf will be back in Germany, the envy of his pals: lean and tan.

DNF GC 600 KM

We took a shot at it and rode to the Valle controle—that’s when circumstances lead to our decision to abandon. I will tell you now that the ride was tough, and on roads that were in poor condition and quite dangerous, especially the climbing in Oak Creek Canyon. Dangerous because there was really no shoulder, and dangerous because automobile drivers, probably coming up from Phx to visit Sedona and Flagstaff, suddenly found themselves squeezed in with a few Randonneurs on the tight corners.

I believe I can tell a local driver from a Phoenician—in either case while on the bike, you can hear the car tires pounding on the choppy pavement as they’re coming up from behind. Phoenicians will pass you, albeit at 70 mph, but leave you a few feet between you and their Lexus. Dewayne Maynard, and Nola Mae Jean (probably Dewayne Maynard’s common law wife) will not be so kind. Many times vehicles passed me within inches—the empties from Friday nigh clanging around in the bed of the truck. Because they drive this stretch of road so much—making runs for beer, smokes, and white bread—they got no patience for “Turiss.”

Local Boy living the high-life, "Yee Haw!"

Randonneurs have reached a certain level of Zen awareness while riding on these brevets. The brutal climb forced us to ride slow and steady. Even though the cracked asphalt is pounding my bike and body—when there’s a lull in the traffic, and there’s silence for a few long moments—I can hear the stream flowing over the rocks in the canyon below. I can hear and see the little birds darting about the trees. Sometimes I could hear some larger bird’s song from deep down in the canyon and hear the echo below. I catch a glimpse of a mouse peering at me from behind a pine cone. That is what makes the ride worthwhile, mes amis… I think it too bad we have to live so fast, and miss these things. My feeling is that’s why we find it so easy to be indifferent to each other and the world.

Friday after work I headed up to Scottsdale. My car was loaded, and extra gear for the ride was put in the Mystery Van. Kim would meet us at the controle in Valle, at about mile 118. Because we were not sure if we would have cold and rain, we had to carry more clothing than normal. At the last second I decided to keep my hub the early morning, and not use just battery lights. Not sure what exactly I decided to bring, but my bike was heavy—that would really cause me to suffer on the climbs early in the ride. We’d take off all the gear when we saw Kim with the feeling that the lightened load would help us make up for time.

We got about 4 hours of sleep, then took off to Camp Verde for the 4 am start at the Ranch. At the Ranch I remember getting the bike ready, saying hi to Susan, Mike, Gerry, Bryan and Sal. Even though it was very dark, there was some star light and moon light—a couple of curious horses in the coral watched every move we made, and it was if they wanted to come along.

Yours on the Road...

As the sun rose up, Steve and I got into our groove, and greeted a few other riders who were out doing the 300. We caught up to Sal, from Oregon, who had stopped to take off a jacket—it was already getting hot. Sal told me how traffic was kind of scary and I joked about unfriendly Arizona drivers. Actually, here in Tucson, I’ve never had any real problems—as always, somebody talking on their cell phone and not paying attention has almost run over me. I try to avoid certain roads at certain times of the day because I know it makes it difficult for drivers. I certainly don’t drive on the main road to get back to my house in the evenings because its narrow and a bad road, and people just want to get back home after a long day at the office. When ever some one passes us close on purpose—and very fast, I always say about the driver, “I’m comin’ Mama! I got your bail money!”

Sedona at day break was beyond words, Gentle Reader. It’s a beautiful place for now. The “McMansions” are appearing everywhere you look and that’s sad. It was getting busy and people were rolling in and out of cafes and breakfast places. Guests at one pretty expensive place could sit on a balcony and sip their Bloody Mary’s as myself and the other heroes began a most beautiful and deadly ascent to glory.

We made it to the Flagstaff controle, but just barely. Sal had arrived a few minutes before us. Steve contacted Kim to give her our ETA to the Valle controle—I filled our water bottles and shed the warmers and packed them in my bags. I needed to cool down from all the climbing. Sal almost took off without his helmet—he wanted to get moving, as the next controle would be tough to make. We ate a quick lunch and headed out not long after.

I know Flag pretty well and we rode right thru the heart of it. My wife is from there, and some of my very good friends, Jim and Victoria, used to live there. We’d stay with them for a night before a trip out to the rez, or when Jim and I would go for a hike in the Canyon. Jim made the best Vodka Martinis I think I’ve ever had, and to mark the occasions of our visits, he would go out of his way to find the best cognac or wine from Morocco or Spain—and we would savor it and laugh about shit we had to put up with in our jobs, etc.

And of course, there’s the Dara Thai restaurant that we always went to before a hike or a mountain bike ride. I was happy that on the brevet, Steve and I rode past it, as its right in the heart of Flag. I should have jumped off the bike real quick and gotten a picture of it for Jim—but didn’t. They live up in Minnesota (one the most over-rated states in the country) Sorry Jim! Boy, did we every stagger out of that place a few times after all the pints of Guinness…

Humphrey's Peak from the Campus of Northern Arizona University...

I looked for, and finally saw Humphrey’s Peak, a sacred mountain of the Navajo. I can’t recall what the Diné call it but it is one of four peaks that define geographically the place on the planet that the Navajo occupy. Bev tells me that Afghanistan looks like Navajo Land in some parts she’s flown over…

Bev flies in a Blackhawk over Afghanistan...

Afghanistan / Pakistan border...

Jim told me that he flew over the San Francisco Range one time, and you could see the volcanic creators—besides being a librarian, Jim’s also an anthropologist. He said the volcanoes were very active about 1000 A.D. and that the Navajo living in the area most certainly witnessed what would have been some pretty cool and dramatic eruptions!

"Hey Bruce, turn around..." Steve and I stop after Steve sees the mountain in his mirror. I take the photo...

We're at 8,084 feet.

After climbing to 8000 feet or more, we began to descend—but we had to talk about the ride thus far. We knew we wouldn’t make the controles and we needed to rest and get to Kim and the Mystery Van, which would be waiting in Valle. One thing was for sure, I didn’t want to ride these poor roads at night—and to the Canyon we now faced a brutal head wind. It was time to pull out. Steve got news of a family emergency, which meant he would have to fly out of Phx at 6am for his flight Monday… We just hoped Sal would be okay out there on his own.

We plan a ride up to the Grand Canyon this summer, and we’ll probably leave from Prescott and ride a different route, so we can spend some time at the canyon, then ride back thru Williams. Steve knows some better safer roads—so any of you cats that want to do that—let me know!

Allure Libre!

Sunday Ride with Friends

The Sunday Gang rode our 45 mile loop from John’s house and back. We go up the front side of Gates Pass, and then ride the McCain Loop. There’s the usual sprint down Sandario to the Chevron—and this time to the Airport Café. John bought everyone breakfast.

The wind came up as we were leaving breakfast, but with just six or seven miles to ride back to John’s place, it wasn’t so bad.

Kathy and Yours. We're taking a break after climbing the front side of Gates Pass.

McCain Loop, in Saguaro National Park.

Another photograph on McCain Loop.

Whilst trying to get a good photograph of flora in Saguaro Nat’l Park, The Wolf appeared, Gentle Readers. I should have been more prepared—as I realized his presence, he “appeared” and we exchanged greetings. The Wolf may or may not be a phantom. I snapped this image of him as he glided past… I hope he finds peace on his journey.

Kathy and John

Farmland west of I-10 and as we've left the Airport Cafe in Marana.