dauwhe
06-05-2006, 01:03 PM
I haven't seen many ride reports from this weekend, so I though I'd add mine. This is from a 400k brevet, starting from Westfield, Massachusetts, and going to Saratoga Springs, NY, and back. Warning: this is very long!
We leave at 1AM with light rain falling. I'm the first rider on the road, and so witness nearly everyone passing me. One theme of the day quickly emerges: I am unable to ride at anyone else's pace. I've ridden with groups quite a bit this year, but not today! Quickly, I'm alone, heading out through Westfield and starting to climb up into the Berkshires.
I've never really ridden in the rain at night. The really cool thing is seeing the drops of water thrown off the front tire illuminated by your headlights. It looks like a shower of sparks! Other than that, it's a matter of gear, and practice, and acceptance. I've had lots of rainy rides, and felt like I've adapted. My new helmet cover is a godsend, as is my Showers Pass jacket. The only problem is my feet-- in spite of full fenders, a new mud flap that ends one inch from the pavement, and booties, my feet quickly get wet. Oh well. I'll have to keep working on the bootie thing.
After 22 miles, mostly up, we turn onto Route 8 in Becket. I'm near the top of the climb when a police car passes me, rather slowly. Then I see the car stopped on a side road up ahead. The lights flash, and a voice asks me to come over. The officer asks me what I'm doing, as it's "unusual" for someone to be riding a bike in the rain at 3AM in the middle of nowhere. Apparently he'd received reports of "suspicious activities". I explain as best I can what we're doing, although of course I can't explain it to myself. The officer let me go on my way, and I'm sure he'll have a story to tell his colleagues!
Thirty minutes later I see bright lights at the side of the road, which turn out to be the first control. Our wonderful RBA, Don Podolski, had set up a tent and a lantern, and had his car headlights on. I had some bread and jam, ate a banana, and headed out with Rick, with whom I've ridden many miles (including this year's Fleche) over the last two years. We rode together through Pittsfield, where Rick lives, and faced the ominously named "raised structures" in a construction zone. By then it's around 5AM, and beginning to be morning, although it wasn't that much lighter! Of course, the rain has been falling the whole time. We make the short climb over the Taconics at Brodie Mountain Road, and head into New York. Rick pulls away on the descent, and I don't see him until the 2nd control.
I think the hardest part of this ride is a seemingly innocuous stretch along highway 43 between Stephentown and Sand Lake. "Rollers" isn't quite the word; the Blayley's notion of "55-5" (55 mph down one side, 5mph up the other) is more accurate. I have the great advantage of having done this route last year, so I'm prepared for lots of steep climbing. I persevere, and head towards the second control.
I was feeling pretty good physically. I'd been riding quite conservatively, and was staying warm and relatively comfortable. But my head was causing trouble. There was no indication that the rain would ever stop, and it's impossible to imagine riding 250 miles in the rain. My brain didn't want to be there, when there was a nice hotel room and dry clothes back in Westfield. I was seriously considering turning around in Sand Lake, and just riding back. It would be quite a big day on the bike, 150 miles in the rain. That made a lot more sense than keeping going.
But I promised myself I'd get to that 2nd control. And habit demands that you get your card signed and get something to eat. There were several other riders there, living examples of perseverance. I didn't want to ride through the Alps again. And how would I feel if the weather did get better?
I didn't quite notice at the time, but something inside me shifted slightly, and I became determined. For the rest of the ride I was very focused on moving forward. I was anxious whenever I was stopped, not only because I would quickly get chilled. I kept encountering other riders, but never really joined a group for very long--I was set in my pace, and how I dealt with stops. I felt quite antisocial, as I would rush out of controls, and I wish I'd spent more time chatting--I met quite a few riders who I hadn't known before. It all made me feel vaguely guilty, but I was focused on getting to the finish, and everything else fell by the wayside.
It wasn't a bad ride. I'd made peace with the rain, and many moments it felt almost as if I was on a short ride near home--just riding a bike. And we rode through lots of lovely country, bucolic rolling farmland, rushing rivers (of course we know why they're rushing!), lots of lakes and reservoirs and forest...
Soon we reach the Hudson River, and ride up Route 4 through an odd landscape; mobile home parks and run-down shops right on the river. It seems to be the residential version of the decaying urban landscape along the Hudson to the south. I suspect the last forty or fifty years have been very, very hard on this part of the world. Soon it becomes more rural, and we turn off to climb out of the Hudson valley towards Saratoga. Lovely country here; and then I see the lead pack of randonneurs, heading back towards Westfield. Looks to be eight or so riders together! I wish them good luck, and envy their strong legs & minds.
Most of the last stretch into Saratoga is right along the shores of Saratoga Lake. It's a mixed bag; a narrow road with lots of traffic, and quite windy, but the lake is beautiful (or would be on another day) and it's fun looking at the trophy homes along the lake. Then it's in to Saratoga, past the racetrack, through puddles in the road (as if the storm drains had backed up). We head through downtown to the turnaround control, at Blue Sky Bikes. I eat a turkey sandwich, wolf down some potato chips, chat briefly with Rick & Phil, and call my sweetheart on the cell phone to let her know I'm alive. I rush, wanting to head home, and climb back on the bike. Not 100 feet from the bike shop I have a flat tire! I walk the bike back to the control and take out the wheel. The wise checkpoint volunteer urges me to just take it inside to the shop, and let them fix it. I do, and for the first time watch a professional fix a flat. Thanks Blue Sky Bikes!
On my way again. I have a tailwind along the lake. Of course it's still raining. Lots of rollers; I end up back at the Hudson. Phil & John go by; I ride with them for a bit until a hill separates us. The rain has eased off; at some point I realize it has stopped! It's good for the morale, but doesn't really matter--I'm probably going to stay just as damp no matter what happens!
I keep riding; my "saddle area" is a mess, and my knees hurt. I keep eating and drinking. Two older gentleman at a convenience store inquire about what we're doing; they're amused, and say they're tired just from hearing about it! Just before Sand Lake I meet Anish and Chris. We chat a bit; I go ahead for a bit, and then they pass me at the start of the nasty climbs through the "Alps". It's not so bad this year (I really struggled here last year). I pull into the last control a bit after 6PM.
The control was at "Dave's Market". I got a ham sandwich, and a very nice cashier signed my car. We sat on milk crates in the store, and ate. We ended up chatting with Dave himself, who was also very nice. I really appreciated their kindness and hospitality!
I'm off again, into the wind and back into Massachusetts. It's around 7PM, but seems to be getting darker. I'm trying to calculate how far I'll get before it gets really dark. I make it over Jiminy Peak, and get through most of Pittsfield (very unpleasant because of traffic) before it gets really dark. One last stop to refuel, and then it's time for the final push. A group came together for a while, and five of us started up the hill. We stopped at the last store to get batteries, and I got chilled and started riding again. It didn't seem like such a bad climb last year, but there seemed more of it this year! Most of the group passed me, and I was alone with my fabulous lights and my hurting body. Oh, did I mention it was raining again, since the last checkpoint?
But if you keep pedaling, the miles eventually pass by. I get to Beckett, and this time the police don't take notice! Finally, the top of the hill. I get to the last turn, and have 22.4 miles to go. It's not all downhill, and my butt hurts so much that I ride mostly standing. The horrible road surface doesn't help either. With 18 miles to go Don drives by, checking up on me and offering a sandwich or a soda. I thank him and go on; he's off to rescue some riders in Pittsfield. Don takes such good care of us!
That last stretch was quite unpleasant, with all my aches and pains. But eventually I get to the end of the road, feeling proud of myself for finishing, even if it was even slower than the epic last year! I get my card signed at a gas station, buy a snack, ride back to the bike shop to drop off my brevet card, and then ride the mile back to the hotel. What a relief to get off the bike for good! How scary to see what my feet looked like after a 24-hour soaking!
I finished in 23:18; 48 minutes slower than last year. But the actual time spent pedaling was two hours longer this year--that's what I get for not having the Blayley's tandem to draft! At least I spent a lot less time stopped...
Thanks to Don Podolski, the other riders, and everyone who helped us on the way!
Dave Cramer
Soggy and sore in Brattleboro, Vermont
We leave at 1AM with light rain falling. I'm the first rider on the road, and so witness nearly everyone passing me. One theme of the day quickly emerges: I am unable to ride at anyone else's pace. I've ridden with groups quite a bit this year, but not today! Quickly, I'm alone, heading out through Westfield and starting to climb up into the Berkshires.
I've never really ridden in the rain at night. The really cool thing is seeing the drops of water thrown off the front tire illuminated by your headlights. It looks like a shower of sparks! Other than that, it's a matter of gear, and practice, and acceptance. I've had lots of rainy rides, and felt like I've adapted. My new helmet cover is a godsend, as is my Showers Pass jacket. The only problem is my feet-- in spite of full fenders, a new mud flap that ends one inch from the pavement, and booties, my feet quickly get wet. Oh well. I'll have to keep working on the bootie thing.
After 22 miles, mostly up, we turn onto Route 8 in Becket. I'm near the top of the climb when a police car passes me, rather slowly. Then I see the car stopped on a side road up ahead. The lights flash, and a voice asks me to come over. The officer asks me what I'm doing, as it's "unusual" for someone to be riding a bike in the rain at 3AM in the middle of nowhere. Apparently he'd received reports of "suspicious activities". I explain as best I can what we're doing, although of course I can't explain it to myself. The officer let me go on my way, and I'm sure he'll have a story to tell his colleagues!
Thirty minutes later I see bright lights at the side of the road, which turn out to be the first control. Our wonderful RBA, Don Podolski, had set up a tent and a lantern, and had his car headlights on. I had some bread and jam, ate a banana, and headed out with Rick, with whom I've ridden many miles (including this year's Fleche) over the last two years. We rode together through Pittsfield, where Rick lives, and faced the ominously named "raised structures" in a construction zone. By then it's around 5AM, and beginning to be morning, although it wasn't that much lighter! Of course, the rain has been falling the whole time. We make the short climb over the Taconics at Brodie Mountain Road, and head into New York. Rick pulls away on the descent, and I don't see him until the 2nd control.
I think the hardest part of this ride is a seemingly innocuous stretch along highway 43 between Stephentown and Sand Lake. "Rollers" isn't quite the word; the Blayley's notion of "55-5" (55 mph down one side, 5mph up the other) is more accurate. I have the great advantage of having done this route last year, so I'm prepared for lots of steep climbing. I persevere, and head towards the second control.
I was feeling pretty good physically. I'd been riding quite conservatively, and was staying warm and relatively comfortable. But my head was causing trouble. There was no indication that the rain would ever stop, and it's impossible to imagine riding 250 miles in the rain. My brain didn't want to be there, when there was a nice hotel room and dry clothes back in Westfield. I was seriously considering turning around in Sand Lake, and just riding back. It would be quite a big day on the bike, 150 miles in the rain. That made a lot more sense than keeping going.
But I promised myself I'd get to that 2nd control. And habit demands that you get your card signed and get something to eat. There were several other riders there, living examples of perseverance. I didn't want to ride through the Alps again. And how would I feel if the weather did get better?
I didn't quite notice at the time, but something inside me shifted slightly, and I became determined. For the rest of the ride I was very focused on moving forward. I was anxious whenever I was stopped, not only because I would quickly get chilled. I kept encountering other riders, but never really joined a group for very long--I was set in my pace, and how I dealt with stops. I felt quite antisocial, as I would rush out of controls, and I wish I'd spent more time chatting--I met quite a few riders who I hadn't known before. It all made me feel vaguely guilty, but I was focused on getting to the finish, and everything else fell by the wayside.
It wasn't a bad ride. I'd made peace with the rain, and many moments it felt almost as if I was on a short ride near home--just riding a bike. And we rode through lots of lovely country, bucolic rolling farmland, rushing rivers (of course we know why they're rushing!), lots of lakes and reservoirs and forest...
Soon we reach the Hudson River, and ride up Route 4 through an odd landscape; mobile home parks and run-down shops right on the river. It seems to be the residential version of the decaying urban landscape along the Hudson to the south. I suspect the last forty or fifty years have been very, very hard on this part of the world. Soon it becomes more rural, and we turn off to climb out of the Hudson valley towards Saratoga. Lovely country here; and then I see the lead pack of randonneurs, heading back towards Westfield. Looks to be eight or so riders together! I wish them good luck, and envy their strong legs & minds.
Most of the last stretch into Saratoga is right along the shores of Saratoga Lake. It's a mixed bag; a narrow road with lots of traffic, and quite windy, but the lake is beautiful (or would be on another day) and it's fun looking at the trophy homes along the lake. Then it's in to Saratoga, past the racetrack, through puddles in the road (as if the storm drains had backed up). We head through downtown to the turnaround control, at Blue Sky Bikes. I eat a turkey sandwich, wolf down some potato chips, chat briefly with Rick & Phil, and call my sweetheart on the cell phone to let her know I'm alive. I rush, wanting to head home, and climb back on the bike. Not 100 feet from the bike shop I have a flat tire! I walk the bike back to the control and take out the wheel. The wise checkpoint volunteer urges me to just take it inside to the shop, and let them fix it. I do, and for the first time watch a professional fix a flat. Thanks Blue Sky Bikes!
On my way again. I have a tailwind along the lake. Of course it's still raining. Lots of rollers; I end up back at the Hudson. Phil & John go by; I ride with them for a bit until a hill separates us. The rain has eased off; at some point I realize it has stopped! It's good for the morale, but doesn't really matter--I'm probably going to stay just as damp no matter what happens!
I keep riding; my "saddle area" is a mess, and my knees hurt. I keep eating and drinking. Two older gentleman at a convenience store inquire about what we're doing; they're amused, and say they're tired just from hearing about it! Just before Sand Lake I meet Anish and Chris. We chat a bit; I go ahead for a bit, and then they pass me at the start of the nasty climbs through the "Alps". It's not so bad this year (I really struggled here last year). I pull into the last control a bit after 6PM.
The control was at "Dave's Market". I got a ham sandwich, and a very nice cashier signed my car. We sat on milk crates in the store, and ate. We ended up chatting with Dave himself, who was also very nice. I really appreciated their kindness and hospitality!
I'm off again, into the wind and back into Massachusetts. It's around 7PM, but seems to be getting darker. I'm trying to calculate how far I'll get before it gets really dark. I make it over Jiminy Peak, and get through most of Pittsfield (very unpleasant because of traffic) before it gets really dark. One last stop to refuel, and then it's time for the final push. A group came together for a while, and five of us started up the hill. We stopped at the last store to get batteries, and I got chilled and started riding again. It didn't seem like such a bad climb last year, but there seemed more of it this year! Most of the group passed me, and I was alone with my fabulous lights and my hurting body. Oh, did I mention it was raining again, since the last checkpoint?
But if you keep pedaling, the miles eventually pass by. I get to Beckett, and this time the police don't take notice! Finally, the top of the hill. I get to the last turn, and have 22.4 miles to go. It's not all downhill, and my butt hurts so much that I ride mostly standing. The horrible road surface doesn't help either. With 18 miles to go Don drives by, checking up on me and offering a sandwich or a soda. I thank him and go on; he's off to rescue some riders in Pittsfield. Don takes such good care of us!
That last stretch was quite unpleasant, with all my aches and pains. But eventually I get to the end of the road, feeling proud of myself for finishing, even if it was even slower than the epic last year! I get my card signed at a gas station, buy a snack, ride back to the bike shop to drop off my brevet card, and then ride the mile back to the hotel. What a relief to get off the bike for good! How scary to see what my feet looked like after a 24-hour soaking!
I finished in 23:18; 48 minutes slower than last year. But the actual time spent pedaling was two hours longer this year--that's what I get for not having the Blayley's tandem to draft! At least I spent a lot less time stopped...
Thanks to Don Podolski, the other riders, and everyone who helped us on the way!
Dave Cramer
Soggy and sore in Brattleboro, Vermont