tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3556909623219266142024-03-13T08:21:50.903-07:00The Adventures of RandoBoyBecause it feels good when I stop ...Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10800093717662010376noreply@blogger.comBlogger493125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-355690962321926614.post-28164840433052645682018-07-30T15:21:00.003-07:002018-07-30T15:21:47.227-07:00BreakThis was the original program:<br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">10 FOR X=1 to 3</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">20 DO HURRICANE RIDGE</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">30 NEXT X</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">40 END</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">For my non-nerd friends, that just means that RandoGirl and I drove to the north end of the Olympic </span>Peninsula<span style="font-family: inherit;"> this weekend to do the 19-mile climb from Port Angeles, WA, to the top of <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hurricane_Ridge" target="_blank">Hurricane Ridge</a>. The route has over 5,000 feet of elevation gain, and is one of the "must do" climbs in the United States.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">RandoGirl would do it once. I planned to do it three times. Why? Because we're going to France for a bike tour in September, and at the end of that tour I plan to try to climb Mount Ventoux on each of the paved roads there. That route looks like this:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">So to test my fitness, I wanted to do this:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-AUQNLLOQB08/W1975ccMuJI/AAAAAAAA1CA/Cfq5HYTxCxEFVZlLhdhfvKXQAcp6qFCEgCLcBGAs/s1600/Hurricane%2BRidge.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="661" data-original-width="976" height="216" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-AUQNLLOQB08/W1975ccMuJI/AAAAAAAA1CA/Cfq5HYTxCxEFVZlLhdhfvKXQAcp6qFCEgCLcBGAs/s320/Hurricane%2BRidge.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">It's a few more miles and a little more climbing, but I figured that if I could do this route in 12 hours then I should be able to do the Ventoux routes in 12 hours, which is about how much daylight I will have in mid-September.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
And so, Friday after work, RandoGirl and I drove to Sequim via a very circuitous route complicated by the fact that EVERYONE was trying to get out of Seattle for the weekend (since the forecast was for temperatures near 90) and NEARLY EVERYONE was apparently trying to go to the Olympic Peninsula. Thus, we didn't get to our hotel until after midnight, which meant we were still a little tired the next morning when we got up to drive to Port Angeles and start climbing at 8 am.<br />
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But, like I said, I just wanted to see if I could climb this thing three times in 12 hours. Easy.<br />
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It was cool in Port Angeles, so RandoGirl kept that jacket on for most of the climb. After the first mile, I pulled off those arm warmers ... right after I realized that I was missing my left glove.<br />
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<br />
The road for the bottom five miles was under construction, and that's also where the steepest stuff is. But the steep stuff there was rarely in double-digits, and I've been riding a lot of really steep stuff around Seattle lately, so it was rarely hard enough for me to even get into my 28-tooth gear on the back. I paid $15 for a pass at the gate and made sure that it was good for the whole day (it's good for a week), and then took a break about halfway up before entering the first of a series of three short tunnels.<br />
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I also turned on my rear light here, since there were a good number of cars. Most of them passed properly, some passed a little close, and quite a few passed with a wave and/or a thumbs-up.<br />
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Just before the last tunnel I passed a touring cyclist, and then I passed a couple of other cyclists a mile further. One of those looked to be a guy in his 70s, but he was still churning along. The other fellow was much younger, and he passed me back about another mile further on. Part of me wanted to kick harder to stay with him, but I told myself to take it easy since this was a "for the long haul" kind of day.<br />
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Nearing the top, a couple of fellows on bikes came zipping down, "Woo-hooing" all the way. Pretty soon after that, I first saw the ridge.<br />
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About here you begin to see people hiking along the top. Then you come around the corner into a parking lot full of cars.<br />
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I felt pretty good at this point. My goal had been to do the climb in three hours, and I'd managed to finish in under 2.5 instead. The worst part had been the incessant biting black flies over the last eight miles. I snapped a quick picture of my bike under the sign and started down.<br />
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On my first descent, I rode the brakes so much that my hands began to hurt. Frankly, this is one of the carry-overs from my mishap in Andorra a year ago: I tend to be cautious going down any hill the first time. I saw RandoGirl after five miles or so and yelled "hello," and then loosened up a bit to have fun again ... until the bottom five miles. As I said earlier, that part is steeper and under repair, so controlling my speed and dodging holes kept my busy. After hitting a few holes and skating through a couple of gravel patches, I was glad to be done with the descent.<br />
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Back at the car, I topped off my water bottles with ice and Gatorade, ate a couple of bars, and started back up. As I climbed the bottom section again, I started to modify my original program.<br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">10 FOR X=1 to 2</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">20 DO HURRICANE RIDGE</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">30 NEXT X</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">35 DO HALF HURRICANE RIDGE</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">40 END</span><br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
My thinking here was that maybe I should just climb this thing twice, and then come back to the gate and not have to descend the steep bumpy section again ... plus not have to climb it again.<br />
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About a mile before the gate, more cyclists came down. One of them stopped and asked me something, and I recognized him as the fellow that had passed me on the way up earlier. He repeated his question, "Do you want to use my pass?" I said, "No, I bought one the first time up." Then he looked at me strange and said, "Oh, yeah. I remember you." By then I was past him, but I'm pretty sure that he was thinking, "What kind of masochist does this thing twice?"<br />
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At the gate, there were almost 50 cars stacked up waiting to be allowed in. I rode past them to the booth to see if I needed to wait in the line. The Park Ranger asked if I had a pass, so I showed him mine and said, "Yeah, I bought it when I came through the first time." "The first time?" "Yeah, I went by here about 9 am. There weren't as many cars here then." "They're waiting for parking spaces up top to open up." "Okay. Thanks. I'll see you again in a couple of hours."<br />
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As I rode on, I'm pretty sure that he was looking at me then about the way that the cyclist had been earlier.<br />
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By the time I got back to the parking lot before the tunnel, I was tired.<br />
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The fog had lifted from Port Angeles, and it was getting pretty darned toasty on the mountain.<br />
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I paused to read the placards this time.<br />
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But eventually told myself, "it ain't getting any cooler. And the top ain't coming to me." So, off I went.<br />
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The flies were now impossible. The first time, it had been a little cooler and there weren't as many, but now they were swarming. Worse, I didn't have the legs to regularly sprint away from them, and had not thought to bring any bug spray in the car or "Off" wipes in my pockets. So my only recourse was to swat them out of my face and smack any that landed on me ... mostly on my backside, where they could more easily bite me in the butt through my sweat-soaked shorts.<br />
<br />
Just before I lost cellular coverage, I got a text message from RandoGirl that she was done and heading to get some lunch. It was just after 2 pm when I summited for the second time.<br />
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This time I took a break. I finished off my second bottle, ate my other bar, and walked around the visitor's center for a bit.<br />
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As I started down, I thought about whether I wanted to go to the gate and start back, or if I should head for the car.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">10 FOR X=1 to 2</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">20 DO HURRICANE RIDGE</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">30 NEXT X</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">35 INPUT "HAVEN'T YOU SUFFERED ENOUGH</span><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">?"; R$</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">40 IF X="Y" THEN END</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">50 DO HALF HURRICANE RIDGE</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">60 END</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
To be honest, I'd proved my point. It took me seven hours to do the equivalent of the Malaucene and Bedoin climbs -- the tough ones -- up Ventoux. I could have gone back to Port Angeles, eaten lunch, bought a bottle of Off spray, taken a nap, and climbed back up again in the five hours of daylight that I had left. And, yes, the mistral winds blowing around Ventoux might make me descend even more slowly that I was on Saturday coming down from Hurricane Ridge. But you can't foresee the weather -- you can only train for something to the best of your ability and hope that the plan comes together and your program pays off.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I pressed Y, and was back at the car around 3 pm.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10800093717662010376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-355690962321926614.post-45886986819937716992018-07-18T14:27:00.001-07:002018-07-18T14:27:19.691-07:00The Racer's EdgeI was a kid when I first heard about STP.<br />
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But it was probably only a few years ago that I first heard about the <i>other</i> STP: <a href="https://cascade.org/content/events/stp" target="_blank">Seattle to Portland</a>. You can do this 205-mile ride as a two-day event, but doing it in a single day sounded interesting in the same way that <a href="https://raceroster.com/events/2018/12817/37th-annual-cross-florida-ride" target="_blank">Cross-Florida</a> sounded interesting when I lived down there. So, for some insane reason, even though I haven't even done a 200K this year, I decided to ride STP this year. Worse, I decided to do it fast enough that I could finish before sunset, so that I wouldn't need to bring lights.<br />
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My plan was to keep this low-impact. I didn't want to have to drive a car up to the start at 4:45 am, and I certainly didn't want to make RandoGirl get out of bed to drive me up there then. After the ride, I wanted a simple way to get back home.<br />
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So Friday evening I carried a backpack with a change of clothes and toiletries over to the University of Washington campus and put it on the truck for Portland. Then Saturday morning my alarm went off at 4:30 and I left the house on my bike just after 5 am.<br />
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The streets were mostly empty, of course, as I passed over the Duwamish and through Georgetown. Just east of I-5, my Wahoo GPS popped up with a warning that the battery on my electronic shifting was low. I had just plugged my beloved Bianchi in two days earlier to top off the battery, and decided that this must be an error ... some kind of mis-calibration.<br />
<br />
(Cue ominous foreboding music.)<br />
<br />
I hit the route just south of where the "real" route left the Lake Washington Loop, my shortcut from home shaving almost half a mile from the full course. Although my legs were thus much more fresh than those of my fellow riders, many of them continued to pass me as we headed into the sea of traffic lights known as Renton.<br />
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<br />
There was a broad array of skillsets and fitness on display here. Large groups would zoom past just to get caught at the next traffic light. Wide bunches would weave about the lane chatting about their grandkids or listening to bluetooth speakers bolted to their handlebars or just churning and chuffing and offering up their suffering like supplicants in hair shirts.<br />
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<br />
(If you look closely, you can see Mount Rainier in this picture.)<br />
<br />
It would have been nice to sit in on a good group here. It would have been nice to sit in on a good group at <i>any </i>point during the day. However, such respite remained unavailable to me. Maybe I'm too picky, or maybe I missed the "good" groups, but any time a bunch of riders came by that appealed to me I would join them for a mile or two and then we would suck up some squirrelly miscreant that would start surging or couldn't hold a line or would run a stop sign to the obvious ire of the screeching tires and blaring horn of a loudly cursing nun.<br />
<br />
So I rode alone awash in a cycling sea of humanity, feeling like an aborigine on a crowded New York subway train. Occasionally I would chat with another rider, but most of our interchanges were along the "On your left" and "Good morning" variety. More often, a string of riders would form behind me, like remoras trailing a grizzled Great White, happily bobbing in my wake as I lumbered stupidly on.<br />
<br />
Although STP is a supported ride, I had skipped all of the stops through Puyallup. At the top of the climb past there, however, I made a brief stop for coffee.<br />
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<br />
Caffeine is the <i>REAL</i> racer's edge.<br />
<br />
Just past Spanaway, the route turned onto the grounds of Joint Base Lewis-McChord. Signs there warned against taking photographs, with penalties of fines and imprisonment. I looked around and noticed bunches of GoPros on riders helmets, capturing every moment of the ride's epic-ness (epicocity?). But since I'm a rule-player, this picture is NOT from on the base. Honest.<br />
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<br />
Speaking of rules, the Cascade Bicycle Club was also very clear on riders' use of headphones on the ride. I'm sure that all of the earbuds that I saw jammed into peoples' heads were really hearing aids. Made by Apple.<br />
<br />
I had just left the base and was almost a third of the way into the ride when my electronic shifting completely quit. Ordinarily, with Shimano Di2, when the battery is dying it first stops shifting in front; however, I had been big-ringing everything for the past 20 miles, so it had no recourse but to just leave me in the middle on the back and big ring up front. I pulled over to make sure that it wasn't a loose connection, but the little red lights do not lie: My battery was bereft.<br />
<br />
Now, I had just been thinking earlier in my mindless musings that this would be a good route to ride on a single-speed bike. The wind was predominantly out of the north pushing me along, and the hills were mostly of the long lumps and/or gentle roller variety. In 2008, I rode my Salsa Casseroll on a fleche that went over the mountains between Tennessee and Alabama, so if I could ride 240 miles through that then surely I could do the next 135 now.<br />
<br />
But I was young in 2008, and had all kinds of fitness left over from riding the Rocky Mountain 1200K earlier that month. Could I do the next 135 miles using only the gear to which my lack of juice had sentenced me? Yes. Could I finish by dark? Possibly.<br />
<br />
But I want to.<br />
<br />
Amazingly, one mile down the road was a rest step. Even better, it had a bike support tent that had been set up by the Montlake Bicycle Shop. I asked the mechanic there -- Gary TeGantvoort -- if he had a Di2 charger. He said no, but that he did have a Di2 battery that he had thrown in the box at the last minute.<br />
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So Gary proceeded to finagle the battery out of the seat post on my Bianchi.<br />
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<br />
And put his almost-fresh one in. Voila! I was back in business.<br />
<br />
After profusely thanking Gary and promising to return his battery on Monday, I topped off my bottles and headed back out. In Yelm, we got on a multi-use trail for a few miles.<br />
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<br />
While it's nice to have these trails, I wish that they would pave them using at least some of the same standards that they use for roads. The lumps from trees pushing up the pavement are always in the shade, and they get tiresome.<br />
<br />
In Bucoda the multi-use trail ended, and a few miles later we were at the mid-point of the ride at Centralia College. There were banners and a few folks cheering, and many riders gladly hit the beer garden set up there. It was not yet 11:30, however, and I still had over 100 miles to go. So I headed straight for the food trucks in the back.<br />
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I got a pretty good sandwich and an order of fried pickles, seeking to stave off the kind of cramps common for a ride of this effort and length -- not to mention the heat quickly ascending upon us. Chatting with some fellow riders and their families at one of the picnic tables, I learned that some folks had started a little earlier than the posted 5 am time.<br />
<br />
This did not surprise me, since I had been passing people all day that did not seem like the types who had gone out too hard too fast earlier and were now spent. Sure, there were lots of those, but there were also a lot of people whom I would not have picked as cyclists if I met them on a bus or on the street ... or at a hot-dog eating contest. I certainly wouldn't have pegged them as cyclists capable of riding a century, much less riding 205 miles.<br />
<br />
But I continued to see these people, even after leaving Centralia. They were obviously suffering , particularly on the hills or in long sun-filled stretches. Many of them had loved ones in cars and vans that would pull over on the side of the road and wait for them to come by for support. And maybe some crawled into those cars and vans and decided that today was not their day. But to the ones that I saw who were still out there trying, and to the ones who made it all the way: Congratulations. Your achievements dwarf those of the other cyclists who ride STP.<br />
<br />
As, frankly, does your belly.<br />
<br />
(Classic RandoBoy Snark. Patent pending.)<br />
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Leaving Centralia, we wandered briefly into farmland before passing through Chehalis.<br />
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I had picked up a few remoras who thought that I knew the route. We got passed at an intersection by a couple of fellows that I could only assume were Mormon missionaries -- white shirts, ties, black pants, and no helmets. They took a left, and for some reason I followed them for about 50 yards until my GPS started flashing red.<br />
<br />
"Beware false prophets," I said to myself, making a quick U-turn.<br />
<br />
The next few miles had us weaving through lovely fields along the interstate before heading off to Napavine and Evaline. A young lady got on my wheel here, and was one of the few who said something to make her presence known. When I stopped in Winslow to refill my bottles, I realized that she was wearing a long-sleeve cotton shirt and cut-off blue jeans, and that she was riding what looked like a heavy steel commuter bike -- complete with fenders.<br />
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Again, however, she had been good on my wheel and was riding strong, and I have little doubt that she was able to make it all the way to Portland that day. "You can't judge a book by its cover," I thought, considering that maybe I shouldn't be so picky about who I'm willing to sit in on. But then, there's a big difference between paying too much for a crappy paperback at the airport and being the third guy in the pileup caused by a conflagration of Freds.<br />
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And so I rode on, alone in an ocean of Orbeas. I confronted Vader, and began to sense an eruption in the saddle area as I came even with Mount St. Helens at Castle Rock. When I got low on fluid, I typically bypassed the official rest areas and opted instead for the nearby convenience store. They had ice and a better array of drink choices, and I could grab a Payday candy bar to eat on the road.<br />
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Near mile 150, we entered Kelso and Longview. Climbing the Lewis and Clark Bridge, you get your first view of the Columbia River ... and the millions of logs awaiting transformation into trusses.<br />
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As you would expect -- it being the only bridge over the river between Astoria and Portland -- the road was busy, and I was ecstatic to reach the other side.<br />
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It was now officially hot, and there was not much shade on Hwy 30 in the middle of the afternoon, so I just put my head down and motored as best I could. There were a few official SAG spots along this stretch, and I hit one to fill bottles and use the facilities. I wondered if I looked as tired and beat as the other riders there, sprawled and sweating under the tent.<br />
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<br />
My bottles were nearly empty as I hit the outskirts of Portland. With over three hours of daylight left, I should have stopped at one of the McDonald's or other fast-food options for a break and to fill my gut, but I kept thinking that if I did that then I might get a flat or some other delay that might imperil my no-night-riding goal. And thus I soldiered on.<br />
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I was ecstatic to cross this bridge into the city proper with a group of riders, although at this point I was also beginning to feel queasy. "Should've stopped at McDonald's," I told myself again.<br />
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The day had taken its toll by now, and the last seven miles to the finish line were a brobdingnagian effort. After rolling under the banner and waving back at the cheering crowds, I collapsed onto a park bench, half in the sun. A lady selling bicycle jewelry (not jewelry for your bike, since that would be crazy, but jewelry that was cycling-themed -- you know?) gave me three much-needed mini-Tootsie rolls. After a couple of minutes, I was able to stumble over to a food vendor and get a strawberry lemonade and a Diet Coke. Then, I just sat.<br />
<br />
Batteries now less drained, I retrieved my backpack from the drop and checked into my hotel a mile away. Pouring myself a bath, I couldn't unzip by jersey because of all of the salt.<br />
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<br />
Suddenly, the way people had been looking at me for the past few hours made sense.<br />
<br />
I walked to a pizza place for dinner, and then picked up a few bottles of water to drink during the night and an ice pack for my left knee. I spent a fitful night fraught with twitching legs and sore joints before checking out of my hotel and going for a doughnut.<br />
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It was early enough on a Sunday morning that the beleaguered night people were still about, slowly dissipating as the next shift clocked in driving SUVs on their way to a non-denominational service. I bought one old fellow a doughnut because he asked me to, and a cup of coffee because he needed it. Then I headed for the train station and caught the 8:20 back to Seattle.<br />
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I won't do this ride again, at least not in one day. I'm glad that I did it once, if for no other reason than because it is supposedly a core Seattle cyclist experience. But it was the kind of experience for which I am frankly getting to be too old. I obviously still have the ability, but the interest is gone.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10800093717662010376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-355690962321926614.post-62689379505075518872018-07-16T11:03:00.000-07:002018-07-16T11:03:14.007-07:00Tour de Vancouver: Bringing it all HomeWhat are you doing here? The trip is almost over and you've cut in line! You won't understand a thing here unless you've read <a href="http://randoboy.blogspot.com/2018/07/tour-de-vancouver-sometimes-it-rains.html" target="_blank">this blog</a>, and then <a href="http://randoboy.blogspot.com/2018/07/tour-de-vancouver-maybe-it-does-need-to.html" target="_blank">this blog</a>, and then <a href="http://randoboy.blogspot.com/2018/07/tour-de-vancouver-fleeing-tyranny-of.html" target="_blank">this one</a>, and then <a href="http://randoboy.blogspot.com/2018/07/tour-de-vancouver-island-time.html" target="_blank">this one</a>. Go read those first. Do your homework! Clean your room! And stay off of my lawn!!!<br />
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<h3>
July 7: Seattle Again</h3>
<div>
When I <a href="http://randoboy.blogspot.com/2018/06/the-2018-summer-northwest-tour.html" target="_blank">first planned this trip</a>, the last day was going to use <a href="http://randoboy.blogspot.com/2014/06/closing-loop.html" target="_blank">the route that I had taken four years earlier</a> to return to Seattle. But between that and July 7, RandoGirl and I bought (more or less) a house on Bainbridge Island. I wanted to show everyone the house and a bit of Bainbridge -- plus, I knew that the Silverdale and Bremerton sections would be busy and unpleasant -- so I altered the route.</div>
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After another huge breakfast, we left Port Townsend by following the old route and getting on the Larry Scott Trail to go by the paper factory. Parts of this were paved and other parts weren't, and we got confused a few times, but eventually it ended about the way that I remembered and we had to get on Hwy 20 for a mile. Fortunately, that road has a decent shoulder and the Saturday post-holiday traffic was not too bad, and soon we turned off on Hwy 19 towards Irondale.</div>
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In Port Hadlock, we got on Oak Bay Road for a fast run towards Port Ludlow. The shoulder here was not as good and traffic was both heavier and more aggressive than I remember from 2014. I was happy when we finally turned on to Paradise Bay Road after a brief stop at a convenience store for coffee and rest rooms.</div>
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Traffic was definitely heavier crossing the Hood Canal Floating Bridge, but we had the big shoulder so that was no problem. On the other side of the bridge, Steve and Joyce passed us in the van. They turned right, as was our original plan. But we turned left to follow the new route.</div>
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In retrospect, I wish that we had turned right since most routes seem to favor taking Hwy 3 to Big Valley Road, and then coming up from Poulsbo. I had opted for fewer miles and hills, so we turned left on Hwy 104 through Port Gamble, east on Hwy 307 towards Kingston, and then down Miller Bay Road. All of those were busy with a shoulder that came and went and often had debris, and were not very scenic either. We were so happy to get to the end of that, past the casino, and over the bridge onto Bainbridge Island that nobody wanted to stop for a picture of Agate Passage.<br />
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Once on the island, we turned off onto some of the quieter roads along the west coast. Everyone was pretty tired by now, so we cut off some of the southern sections and headed into some nice Bainbridge Island neighborhoods.</div>
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Then we went down to the Harbour Public House where we had a huge late lunch. We caught the ferry afterwards and most of the team took the water taxi to Alki Beach and back to the house. Jeff Bauer and I didn't want to wait for the ferry, so we bombed down the roads instead -- not realizing that Cathie was also going with us. She got a little lost, but made it home fine a little later.<br />
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Back at our house, we all hung out drinking and chatting and packing up bicycles. The next morning, Jeff, Tom, and Judy flew back home while Steve, Joyce, Jill, and Cathie did sight-seeing. Then we loaded them up and they flew back.<br />
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In spite of a few challenges, it was a good trip. It must have been, since everyone is already asking when the next one is and where we will be going. Hopefully by then I will have ridden a few more of the roads so I better know what to avoid.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10800093717662010376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-355690962321926614.post-21765556684685770752018-07-13T22:29:00.000-07:002018-07-13T22:29:34.934-07:00Tour de Vancouver: Island TimeToday's blog is about a long trip, so it's broken into multiple entries. For stuff to make sense, read <a href="http://randoboy.blogspot.com/2018/07/tour-de-vancouver-sometimes-it-rains.html" target="_blank">this one</a>, and then <a href="http://randoboy.blogspot.com/2018/07/tour-de-vancouver-maybe-it-does-need-to.html" target="_blank">this one</a>, and then <a href="http://randoboy.blogspot.com/2018/07/tour-de-vancouver-fleeing-tyranny-of.html" target="_blank">this one</a>. Then come back here.<br />
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July 5: Orcas Island</h3>
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Today was one of the best routes, but it was also one of the toughest. And that's how things should be.</div>
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Tom and Judy were good to ride with us again by now, so Jeff took over in the van. He did an excellent job staying close and being available in case the route was too much for the battered couple, but Tom had recovered very well and finished strong. This also gave Jeff a chance to find a replacement for his rear derailleur cable, which had crapped out for the last 15 miles of the previous day's route. To someone who is so used to riding fixed gear bikes for 1200Ks or RAAM, however, it was nothing to Jeff.</div>
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After a huge breakfast at the hotel, we passed through an apparently sleepy and/or hung-over Bellingham and returned to Chuckanutt Drive.</div>
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It's good to have a camera with a timer. Let's you run around and get in the shot ... even if it took four tries.<br />
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Since Tom and Judy didn't get to bike through here last time, we took it easy. Then we put the hammer down when we got back to the flats.<br />
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We were making very good time, and our lunch stop at Edison was almost "second breakfast." Jeff joined us, having finally found a shop with a Campagnola derailleur cable (who'd have thought that Campy would even have to go weird on their cables?!).<br />
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Back on the road, we passed a lot of cyclists heading north.<br />
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Some just looked like day riders, but there were quite a few touring cyclists as well.<br />
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Eventually, the quiet road along the water smacked into busy Highway 20. But this road had a good shoulder and we were only on it for long enough to get over the channel and on to Fidalgo Island.<br />
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We then turned onto a road through a more industrial section of town -- nice and quiet -- before heading out past the refinery and onto this lovely bridge.<br />
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Yeah, we all took pictures of it. It lead to a multi-use trail ...<br />
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... that included totem poles near RV parks ...<br />
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... and views of Anacortes industries across the water, with Mount Baker in the background ...</div>
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... before finally entering Anacortes via a field of dry-docked pleasure boats.<br />
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We cut through a couple of quiet neighborhoods before getting back on Highway 20 for a couple of miles. The shoulder here came and went, and the cars did not seem happy to be sharing the road with us. Just before the ferry, there was a sign saying "Bike Lane Ends." I laughed, because there were no markings for a bike lane. Some "Share The Road" signs would have been better, or preferably a couple of "Bikes May Use Full Lane" signs.</div>
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Either way, we had over an hour to the next ferry. I even changed out of my bike clothes as we hung around waiting to see if Jeff could get on with the van. He did, and we soon boarded the boat.</div>
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Some of us napped and read, while RandoGirl and I worked on one of the dozens of jigsaw puzzles that were on the tables. Soon, we were on Orcas Island.<br />
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Steve and Joyce's wheel had gone flat during the ride, but since the van was there it was easy to change and soon we were crossing the hills on this little island. We buzzed through Eastsound and headed south on the other side, where we had a long climb followed by a steep descent down to Rosario Resort.</div>
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The resort was busy due to the holiday. It was after 8 pm by the time we got checked into our room, put away our stuff, and got cleaned up, so we opted for the simple dinner at the grill down by the marina.</div>
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<h3>
July 6: Port Townsend</h3>
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Since we were all sharing driving duties, today was my day in the van. I chose it because I knew that the two ferry crossings would be tricky, and because the route today was fairly straight-forward.</div>
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However, I still needed a ride. And, since today was the one-year anniversary of <a href="http://randoboy.blogspot.com/2017/07/the-worst-bike-ride-in-andorra.html" target="_blank">my crash in Andorra</a>, I had something to prove. So I climbed Mount Constitution -- the highest point on the San Juan Islands.</div>
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It was not yet 6 am when I headed out of the resort and did the very tough climb back to the main road. I then turned right and within less than a mile entered Moran State Park.</div>
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All of the campers were still asleep as I passed through the campground and the lake.<br />
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The deer, of course, were up.<br />
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If you ever go to Orcas Island, you will encounter a bunch of deer that have almost no fear of humans. I even saw a couple of young bucks, who barely looked by as I rode past on my bike.<br />
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I soon turned off on the dead-end road that climbed the mountain.<br />
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The bird on the sign had probably already enjoyed his worm.<br />
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The park was a CCC project back in the 1930s, and some of the bridgework and railings are still in use. Just past this bridge I got to a closed gate a little ways beyond the last of the RV parking. A sign there said that the gate opened at 7 am. Since it was almost 7 am, I hoped that they wouldn't mind me jumping the gate early.<br />
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A park ranger passed me a little later near here, but did not say anything to me about jumping the gate. Most of the Orcas Island people that I met were very chill, so he probably figured "no harm, no foul." A refreshing point of view from a government worker nowadays.<br />
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Halfway up, I stopped at a scenic overlook.<br />
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A guy in a truck pulled up next to me and began to unload his bike. We chatted briefly, and he told me he was just climbing up from here. He agreed that the toughest part of my route was getting out of Rosario.<br />
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He was right, too. The rest of the way up had a few short 10% and 11% sections, but it was all easier than riding around Vashon Island. Soon I was at the top.<br />
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Pictures fail to capture the view from up here, since you can see virtually all of the San Juan Islands.</div>
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It was windy and cold, and I knew that RandoGirl would be worried about me, so I started down.</div>
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Although the climb had been hard physically, the descent was rough mentally. I rode my brakes almost all the way, through every curve and switchback and moderating my speed on the few straight sections, thinking about how far I had come in the year since my crash ... and trying to block out thoughts of ever having to do that recovery again.</div>
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Obviously, I made it down. The steep stuff into Rosario was worse in some ways, but better in that I knew it now, and soon I was back at the hotel.</div>
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The group had opted out of the steep climb back to the main road, instead ferrying people and their bikes via the van. I took the last folks up, took their picture, and then headed back to the room to pack everything up.</div>
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Once our bikes and all of the bags were in the car, we drove to Eastsound and had breakfast with everyone. Then we headed to the ferry in hopes of getting on an earlier boat. Fortunately, island life was in full swing, and the guy at the gate gave us the green light. The car and all of the cyclists thus made it to Anacortes together.</div>
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We took Marine Drive out of town -- a lovely road, but very lumpy -- and then followed Rosario Road back to Highway 20 at Deception Pass.</div>
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We checked in with the riders via text and they were doing well. So we went on past Whidbey Naval Air Station ...<br />
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... and stopped in Oak Harbor for lunch.</div>
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The riders took a less busy route on the west side of Whidbey Island. While it meant fewer cars and nicer views, it also meant that they were having a hard time finding food options. Nonetheless, they were still doing well, so RandoGirl and I headed down to Coupeville to see if we could catch an earlier sailing of the ferry to Port Townsend. It meant sitting in the van for about an hour and a half, but they were able to squeeze us in after a couple of boats came and went.<br />
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Since we were at least one boat ahead of the group, we had time to check in and lug our bags up to our third-floor room. We were staying at the Palace Hotel -- a lovely old place that was once a notorious brothel and is now supposedly haunted. Since it's old, it did not have an elevator. And since it's the Pacific Northwest, it did not have air conditioning. We opted for a walk to see the town while the stuffy room cooled.<br />
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We got back to the room about the time that everyone came in. We helped with bags and bikes as much as possible. After everyone got cleaned up and dressed, we went out to another great dinner at the Silverwater Cafe. When we got back to our rooms, they had almost cooled off enough that we could enjoy a restful night.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10800093717662010376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-355690962321926614.post-48149432027068974212018-07-12T08:42:00.001-07:002018-07-12T08:42:47.058-07:00Tour de Vancouver: Fleeing the Tyranny of King GeorgeThis is the third report. It'll only make sense if you've already read <a href="http://randoboy.blogspot.com/2018/07/tour-de-vancouver-sometimes-it-rains.html" target="_blank">this </a>and <a href="http://randoboy.blogspot.com/2018/07/tour-de-vancouver-maybe-it-does-need-to.html" target="_blank">this</a>.<br />
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July 3: Vancouver Rest Day</h3>
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Although we took the day off, it was just "off the bike" off. We still walked a ton.</div>
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A few of us went to Tim Horton's (a.k.a., "Timmie's" -- think McDonald's in Canada) for breakfast, and then we bundled into the van to drive to Stanley Park.</div>
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After walking around there a bit, RandoGirl's knee started to hurt, which made my hip hurt in sympathy. So we sat in a shady spot while seaplanes took off above our heads.</div>
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We then went shopping in search of bike jerseys with "Vancouver" on them. We didn't find any, but we visited some cool shops and met a lot of nice folks.</div>
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One fellow in this shop gave us a tip on an easier way out of town the next day -- one that didn't have us biking on a rusty catwalk that would've had a Flying Wallenda puking in fear. (Okay, that may be an exaggeration. Sue me.)</div>
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We went out for excellent pizza that night and found another really cool bike shop called "The Tandem Cafe." The shop owner had just won the local cargo bike race, and he and I discussed next weekend's Seattle-to-Portland ride.</div>
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We made it back to the room in time to catch the sunset from our balcony.<br />
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<h3>
July 4: Bellingham Again</h3>
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That evening, I modified our return route based on the advice from some other bike shop patrons and RideWithGPS.com. Thus, after loading up the van with our gear once again, we headed back into central Vancouver.</div>
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Now THIS is the way that the bike lane on a bridge should be.</div>
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About two miles from our hotel was the first destination: The Musette Cafe.</div>
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This place was really neat, with all kinds of cycling memorabilia. And they had the best coffee that I have yet to find in Vancouver.</div>
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From here, we biked another mile to the subway station. After spending far too much time figuring out how to get tickets and then bundling our bikes into the elevator, we got on the train.</div>
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The end of the line was the King George Station. Jeff said that it was ironic that we were fleeing the tyranny of Canada via the King George Station on the Fourth of July. But then later that day the Canadians almost didn't let us go.</div>
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The new route had us on a couple of busy roads, but they all either had bike lanes or a good shoulder. Soon, we were back into the countryside via our inbound path. As we approached the bump that we had "enjoyed" on our way in, I mentioned that it was a little steeper from this side.</div>
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Nobody had to dismount on the climb and cross-train, however, and we descended down the other side, took an illegal left, and returned to the border. U.S. Customs spent a little more time looking us over than the Canadians had, but eventually they let us re-enter our so-called home.</div>
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As we passed through Blaine, however, we got a call from Tom and Judy in the van telling us that U.S. Customs was being tougher on them since they had all of our luggage. We decided it would be prudent to stay closer to the border for a while in case they needed us to come back, and headed back into town in search of lunch. Although it was probably not everyone's first choice, we ended up with the randonneur's friend -- and the only place open on Independence Day -- Subway. And thusly did we eat fresh and pay homage to King George and his lovely station back in Vancouver, while Customs dumped our tea bags into the harbor.</div>
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We finished our lunch about the time that Customs let Tom and Judy back in. Once we got past the park near Blaine, which was gearing up for evening fireworks and where the afternoon drinking had apparently already begun, we were able to once again enjoy a ride through fairly flat farmland.</div>
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At one point, we ran into another couple on a tandem and they paced in with us all the way to Ferndale. A really weird coincidence.</div>
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Most things in Ferndale were closed, but both of the cannabis shops on the road between Ferndale and Bellingham were open.</div>
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Because who doesn't like to light their bottle-rocket using a joint?</div>
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Since we had shortened the route by using the subway, we actually got into the hotel fairly early. A few of us did some laundry while others soaked in the hot tub, took a nap, or hung out at happy hour, and then we ferried folks into town for dinner at the Bellingham Cider Company. We were done and back at the hotel before the evening's fireworks started.</div>
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Hooray for the red, white, and blue.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10800093717662010376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-355690962321926614.post-16576116135795417142018-07-11T20:35:00.001-07:002018-07-11T20:35:37.702-07:00Tour de Vancouver: Maybe It Does Need to be SaidHere's the second part of the trip report. If you want to see the first part, go <a href="http://randoboy.blogspot.com/2018/07/tour-de-vancouver-sometimes-it-rains.html" target="_blank">here</a>.<br />
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July 1: Bellingham</h3>
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They say that the best weather in Seattle runs from July 4 almost to Halloween. I had thought that we might have an early start to the good stuff ... but that didn't quite work out.</div>
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It was raining when six of us left the hotel Sunday morning. Steve and Joyce took the van and RandoGirl back to our house, where they would cannibalize our tandem to get a replacement rear wheel for their bike and a replacement front wheel for Tom and Judy's bike. The plan was for them to then meet us halfway and swap out driving duties with Tom and Judy, since this was our longest day.</div>
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The road out of Everett was fairly calm and easy, but wet. The climb up towards Lake Stevens was also wet, but busy. Fortunately, it had a good shoulder.</div>
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Once on top, we passed through Lake Stevens. I would have gotten more pictures, but it was still raining and/or we were getting a lot of spray from the road. Suffice it to say that the lake is very pretty.</div>
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Soon we were cruising north on the Centennial Trail, making very good time. As we approached the railroad tracks crossing the trail just before Arlington, I had just said something about "It goes without saying that these will be slippery," when the tracks caught the front wheel of Tom and Judy's tandem and they went down. Cathie was riding right next to them, and she crashed as well.</div>
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Fortunately, although everyone was banged up and scraped up, they were still functional. We got off route for a bit and went to the Bartell Drug Store in town, where we bandaged folks' scrapes and cuts. Tom had banged his head hard enough to break his helmet and give himself a mild concussion, so we stopped at the bike shop in town and bought him a new helmet. They would not sell him a new head.</div>
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I had alerted the van folks about the incident, so they re-routed to the trailhead near Lake McMurray. When we got there, we put Tom and Judy in the van (after Tom assured us he was okay to drive), and RandoGirl and Steve and Joyce got on their bikes. The sun then came out as we headed west on Hwy 534 through Conway and towards the coast.</div>
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The wind had come up as the rain ended, and we all welcomed a break for ice cream on the flat roads here.</div>
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Then we continued north to the other payoff road on this route: Chuckanut Drive.</div>
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This gorgeous road brings you almost into Bellingham. When we got into town, everyone else turned off towards their hotel while RandoGirl and Jeff and I took a nice gravel trail down towards a hotel closer to the shore. Jeff headed off north from there, and RandoGirl and I locked up our bikes, checked into our room, and turned on the fire in the fireplace. Our group was among the last of the patrons at the restaurant we visited that night, but we had made it.</div>
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July 2: Vancouver</h3>
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Although the day began with sun, the night had been rough for some. To top off his scrapes and bruises, Tom had gotten food poisoning during the night. Judy and Cathie went with him to the hospital, to help Tom and to have their own scrapes and cuts tended to, and Jeff drove them and managed the process. None had gotten a good night’s sleep.</div>
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We decided to give Tom and Judy a few days off, so they stowed their bike at Jeff's hotel (making the best use of his frequent-stay status) and took over driving duties into and out of Canada. The rest of us had a late breakfast in town and rolled out about 10 am.</div>
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The rain wasn't done with us yet, and we had about 10 wet miles as we headed north and then west through Ferndale. Once up on the ridge out of town, however, the sun finally came out to stay.</div>
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We wound our way through the farm country, which got a little busy near some of the state parks, and then through Blaine to the border.</div>
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The line was shorter for us since we were on bicycles. The Canadians customs officers asked us a few questions, looked at our passports, and sent us on our way. A few miles later, we were doing the tough climb in to the suburbs of Vancouver.</div>
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We stopped soon afterwards for lunch.</div>
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Then we got on a few multi-use trails.</div>
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These would end at weird places, double back, or narrow and turn in ways that were definitely not tandem-friendly. At one point, we found ourselves under the bridge that we needed to be on.</div>
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RandoGirl got directions, however, and we made it up and over. As someone who is very afraid of heights, I must admit that this part of the trip scared the crap out of me. Although the bridge has a narrow catwalk of a trail tacked onto the side for bicycles and pedestrians, the way that the plates popped under the wheels of the tandem in front of me while we rode did not inspire confidence.</div>
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After more shifts and jumps from trails to sidewalks to roads, we crossed the river again.</div>
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Then we got to the payoff on River Road.<br />
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This was a great way to work our way further west, rolling along the river and admiring the views of Vancouver across the way. At this point, we didn't mind a nice flat road<br />
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There were a few more tricks at the end of River Road before we could enter downtown. It was rush hour then, and we got lost a couple of times before finding the quiet road into the old section of Vancouver. Soon we were rolling past crowds of slow cyclists and even slower walkers down by Granville Island before we at last got to our hotel. Although the trip had been fun, at this point we were all looking forward to a day off the bike seeing the sights of Vancouver.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10800093717662010376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-355690962321926614.post-81369013503591105362018-07-10T11:38:00.000-07:002018-07-10T11:41:15.062-07:00Tour de Vancouver: Sometimes It Rains HereAs I <a href="http://randoboy.blogspot.com/2018/06/the-2018-summer-northwest-tour.html" target="_blank">mentioned a couple of weeks ago</a>, a bunch of us took a week's vacation to ride up to Vancouver and back the first week of July. Here's how the first couple of days went.<br />
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June 29: Prologue</h3>
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This was a busy day, with folks arriving and putting bikes together and checking into hotels. By late afternoon, we were able to head out for a little ride around Alki Beach.</div>
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From left, that's Tom and Judy Spear, me, Jill Flowers, Cathie Allanson, Jeff Bauer, and Joyce and Steve Grizzle. RandoGirl was still at work.</div>
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On the way back, we stopped at Westside Bicycles and a few folks got some things adjusted and tweaked and fixed. With hope that all of our rides were now perfectly tuned, we headed down to Whiskey West and had a big dinner. I had whiskey.<br />
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June 30: Everett</h3>
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We rolled away from our house just after 9 am. After crossing the West Seattle Bridge, we had to stop for our first picture.</div>
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Jill and Cathie were driving the van this day, so they aren't in the picture. Even though it was Saturday and the weather was kind of "meh," we were still the 126th bicycles to cross the bridge by then.</div>
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We took the usual way into downtown, dodging the folks getting on and off cruise ships, and out the Elliot Bay Trail. Then we spent over an hour watching boats go up and down in the Chittenden Locks.</div>
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From there, we went up the Burke-Gilman Trail to its end at Golden Gardens Park, just past Shilsole Bay Marina (the sign for which some members of the group mis-read, commenting that it seemed far too nice a place to have such a harsh name). Then we climbed.</div>
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At this point we got on a few roads that were new to me as we traversed north Seattle neighborhoods and worked our way over to the Interurban Trail. Traffic was pretty good, considering that we were in a major metropolitan center. Even better, the rain that had been threatening all morning held off. We almost felt lucky enough to stop at a casino.</div>
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But we didn't. Instead, we headed on towards Lynnwood and met up with Jill and Cathie at the Performance Bike Shop near Alderwood Mall. They joined us for lunch, reporting that parts of the trail were closed in the area. As we ate, the rain finally began.<br />
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The next few miles were kind of yucky. In addition to the rain, we ended up on some busy roads thanks to the trail closure. About the time we were finally able to get back on the trail, the rear wheel on Steve and Joyce's tandem also started to badly misbehave.<br />
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Fortunately, the Interurban Trail nicely connected up with quiet roads as it led us into downtown Everett. We were all happy to get out of the rain and into a warm hotel with good coffee, and were even more happy to enjoy an excellent dinner with a lovely sunset at Anthony's.</div>
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In the next blog, I'll tell you about how we got to Vancouver.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10800093717662010376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-355690962321926614.post-90227257925696262882018-06-18T09:40:00.002-07:002018-06-18T11:04:30.716-07:00The 2018 Summer Northwest TourThe week after next, RandoGirl and I -- plus seven friends from back in Nashville -- will ride from West Seattle to Everett, Bellingham, Vancouver, Bellingham again, Orcas Island, and Port Townsend, before coming back to West Seattle. Here's the plan:<br />
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Friday, June 29</h3>
Tom and Judy Spear are coming in Thursday night, and Jeff Bauer, Jill Flowers, Cathie Allanson, and Steve and Joyce Grizzle arrive Friday morning. After we retrieve the van that we will be using during the week, we will assemble and tweak bikes at our house. If we can, we'll get in a ride to make sure everything works, but mostly we'll be just doing last-minute stuff.<br />
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A Note About the Van: <a href="http://randoboy.blogspot.com/2014/06/the-fill-in-gap-tour.html" target="_blank">The last time that I did this route</a> (more or less), I toted my stuff and used panniers; this time, however, we're going more plush by having a minivan with us to carry everyone's bags and offer support on the road. We will share the driving, so at least one day each of us will be in charge of the van. The driver will not really follow the group, but will leap-frogging to previously designated locations where he/she can temporarily unload his/her bike and backtrack the route to get in on some of the fun.<br />
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Saturday, June 30</h3>
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Today we ride through Seattle to Everett, Washington, mostly on some of the multi-use trails that wend their way throughout the city. Highlights include:<br />
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<ul>
<li>The Elliott Bay Trail, with goes past the piers downtown before passing into a park at the point</li>
<li>The Ballard Locks (also known as the Hiram M. Chittenden Locks), which enables boats to go from Puget Sound into Lake Washington and Lake Union (20 feet above sea level)</li>
<li>The Burke-Gilman Trail, Shilsole Marina, and Golden Gardens Park</li>
<li>A few miles of northern Seattle neighborhoods before getting on the Interurban Trail, which takes us to the edge of Everett</li>
</ul>
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Sunday, July 1</h3>
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Today is the longest day, with lots of bumps early before we get on flatter calm roads closer to the coast. We're staying in Bellingham tonight. Highlights include:<br />
<ul>
<li>Head east over I-5 and the river via roads that look like they should be busy but supposedly are not thanks to bike lanes and cycling-specific accommodations</li>
<li>Climb</li>
<li>Ride around Lake Stevens before getting on the Centennial Trail</li>
<li>After 20 miles of rails-to-trails, head northwest on country roads to Conway to meet the van and maybe get lunch</li>
<li>Roll through flat coastal country to Edison (nice bakery there)</li>
<li>Take Chuckanut Drive (which is lumpy) almost all the way into Bellingham</li>
</ul>
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Monday, July 2</h3>
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Today we leave the country, unless Canada has finally given up on us beforehand and closes the border. They could probably get Mexico to pay for a wall.<br />
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Most of today's route uses the Adventure Cycling route that I took four years ago. Highlights include:<br />
<ul>
<li>Head out of Bellingham along I-5 via an access road</li>
<li>Beyond Ferndale, head into rolling farm country all the way up to Blaine</li>
<li>Cross the border at Blaine</li>
<li>Get away from traffic by climbing a long hill followed by a long descent into another valley full of farms</li>
<li>Passing through neighborhoods in the suburbs of Surrey and Richmond via mostly quiet roads, bike lanes, and multi-use trails</li>
<li>Cross the Fraser River and enjoy Vancouver's architecture, people, and wonderful cycling</li>
</ul>
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Tuesday, July 3</h3>
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There are no planned rides today, but I will probably noodle around Vancouver some. Maybe we will drive somewhere.</div>
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Wednesday, July 4</h3>
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We celebrate Independence Day by returning to the good ole' U.S. of A., mostly retracing our route from Tuesday. Maybe we will stop at one of the Tim Horton's on the way out of town (I've marked two). Tonight, we will be back in Bellingham, but on the north side of town for a change of pace. There will probably be fireworks downtown.<br />
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Thursday, July 5</h3>
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We will again retrace our route today, but just for the first 20 miles to Edison (did I mention the bakery?). Then we divert so we can go to Orcas Island. Highlights include<br />
<ul>
<li>A super-flat ride along the coast on mostly quiet roads to Anacortes</li>
<li>A boat ride from Anacortes to Orcas Island (hopefully the 3:45 sailing, since the next boat doesn't get us to the island until 8:25 and one hour of daylight may not be enough for the last 14 miles)</li>
<li>A very hilly ride around Orcas Island to the Rosario Resort (dropping Jeff off in Eastsound)</li>
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Friday, July 6</h3>
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Since I plan to drive today, in the morning I will go out early to climb Mount Constitution. Then I will follow everyone for 50 miles of cycling and 25 miles of ferrying to Port Townsend. Highlights:<br />
<ul>
<li>Second breakfast (and picking up Jeff) in Eastsound</li>
<li>Another boat ride (probably the 12:25 sailing, getting us to Anacortes about 1 pm)</li>
<li>If we don't eat on the ferry, lunch in Anacortes</li>
<li>A lumpy ride along the coast to Deception Pass</li>
<li>Ault Field - last time I was there, the F-16s were doing deafening touch-and-gos</li>
<li>An even-more-lumpy ride along the coast down to Coupeville (for second lunch)</li>
<li>Another boat ride to Port Townsend, from which we could then just walk to our hotels (if we catch one of the last ferries)</li>
</ul>
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Saturday, July 7</h3>
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This is the last day of the tour, and one of the hilliest. Highlights:<br />
<ul>
<li>Very rural riding early, passing through vacation/retirement communities in Port Hadlock-Irondale and Port Ludlow</li>
<li>Crossing the Hood Canal Bridge, followed by more rural roads as we enter Silverdale</li>
<li>A little more traffic as we go into Bremerton</li>
<li>Another ferry ride into downtown Seattle</li>
<li>Back up to West Seattle</li>
</ul>
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My plan is to post a blog about the ride every day, so stay tuned.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10800093717662010376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-355690962321926614.post-9104019768845134102018-06-13T18:22:00.001-07:002018-06-13T18:22:43.725-07:00The Other West Seattle RouteAnother month, another permanent populaire.<br />
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For June, I decided to try "the other" West Seattle 100K that starts near our house: RUSA route 2597: West Seattle Edgy. Maybe it was the weather, or maybe it was because I started so early that traffic was light for a lot of it, or maybe it was because there were only five controls that were fairly easy to find, but I liked this route a lot more than <a href="http://randoboy.blogspot.com/2018/04/a-drawbridge-too-far.html" target="_blank">the first one</a>.</div>
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Since the start is an "open" control in Alki Beach, I wanted to begin at 7 am from Top Pot Donuts. But they don't open until 7 am, so instead I was forced to go to Starbucks.</div>
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(For those that don't live in Seattle, even though Starbucks began here most of us don't have a high opinion of their coffee. And none of their pastries are as good as a donut from Top Pot.)</div>
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Anyway, after most of a fairly "meh" vanilla latte and scone, I hit the trail right at 7 am.</div>
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Even though the sun had been up for over two hours, for some reason the streets were not full of cars ... maybe because it was Saturday. Either way, after cruising south on the edge of West Seattle, the route then turned inland ... and up, of course.</div>
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After rolling through a series of mostly quiet roads, I hit the first control in Burien. Then, I crossed over Hwy 509 into a few more hilly roads just north of the airport, before crossing Hwy 599 and then I-5 into Tukwila. The route gets on the Interurban Trail for a bit, then you have to wend your way up onto a sidewalk down along SW Grady Way (which seems to be busy even though it is next to I-405) before turning off on another trail for a bit before you enter an industrial park on the outskirts of beautiful downtown Renton.</div>
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Renton always seems to me like a slightly angry community ... like they're pissed off because they're not on Puget Sound and are way down at the bottom of Lake Washington where it starts to get swampy. There are a lot of cycling routes on the south side that pass through there, but mostly they seem to just be doing that: Passing through.</div>
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So I passed through Renton and got on the Lake Washington Loop, along with apparently another 50 other cyclists.</div>
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This is a nice little road with a decent bike lane. Eventually, you get off the bike lane and onto a multi-use trail that follows I-405 up to Factoria (famous for <a href="http://randoboy.blogspot.com/2018/04/i-love-big-five.html" target="_blank">having a sporting goods store where you can get inner tubes</a>) before crossing the trail along I-90 onto Mercer Island.<br />
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The route stays on the I-90 trail across Mercer Island, so you don't get to enjoy the loop south on Mercer Way. But looping down that way would have required another control (although an unscrupulous person could easily find a few shortcuts on this route) and would have made the route too long. Instead, you cross over to ride with a bunch of cyclists on the other side of Lake Washington.</div>
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South of Seward Park, you climb up and away from the coast again. I get the feeling that there are a lot of really nice homes between the road and the water there, but you can only see them if you're willing to go down steep roads from which you would then have to climb back up. And, to be honest, you probably couldn't see the houses themselves -- just the lovely gates to those houses.</div>
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By the time you see water again, you're in Rainier Beach.</div>
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Rainier Avenue is a little busy, but has a bike lane. Since it's busy, they don't do a great job of keeping the bike lane clean, so you have to keep an eye out for glass and other debris. But at least it's fairly flat and gets you down to Renton.<br />
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Which you, of course, pass through.<br />
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Soon, you are back on the Springbrook Trail for a little bit, right next to this gate into the water treatment plant.<br />
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I'm not sure if playing Pokemon is also a fire-able offense or not. You could probably claim insanity, since you have a compulsion to "catch 'em all."</div>
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After sidewalk wending my way back onto the Interurban Trail, I got on the Green River Trail near Starfire Sports. There were four fields full of fierce young ladies playing lacrosse there, and I had to gingerly pick my way past their screaming parents watching from the edge of the trail. Then, I was briefly free to ride again.</div>
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Of course, it being the beginning of nice weather in Seattle, I soon encountered a conflicting event on the Green River and Duwamish Trails: A half-marathon.<br />
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For the most part, I was able to get by the runners with no trouble. But my patience failed me in South Park, and that's why I killed Kenny.<br />
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Just kidding. Actually, South Park is another open control on this route, and I stopped at a convenience store to get my card signed and buy a Gatorade. A fellow named Mark approached me in the parking lot and asked why I was limping. I told him briefly about <a href="http://randoboy.blogspot.com/2017/07/the-worst-bike-ride-in-andorra.html" target="_blank">breaking my hip last summer</a>, and he asked to pray for me. Sure, I said. So he did.<br />
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That's South Park.<br />
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From there, I got back on the usual multi-use trails, which had even more of the runners. As I got closer to the finish and caught a whiff of the barn, I decided to skip the madding crowds and get on W. Marginal Way, along which the Duwamish Trail runs. I was just thinking that I could finish the route in less than five hours when I remembered the very bad railroad tracks there, and looked up to see them just in time to hit them hard enough to give me a pinch flat on the back wheel.<br />
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Have I ever told you how much I love Mavic Open Pro rims with Continental Gatorskin tires? I can change a tire with those rims in less than five minutes. Every time.</div>
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And, no, the bike that I was riding did not have Mavic Open Pro rims, nor Continental Gatorskin tires. Instead, I was using what Jeff Sammons (the RBA from middle Tennessee) would have called "that light-weight racing crap." Which is why I lost 15 minutes changing the tire on the Duwamish Trail, as half-marathoner after half-marathoner shambled past. But at least I was able to change it and ride on back to Alki Beach. I even ran into RandoGirl there, and she joined me for lunch at Blue Moon Burgers.</div>
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I liked this route enough to ride it again. But next time I'm going to start a little later, so I can get that donut. And I'll watch out for those railroad tracks.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10800093717662010376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-355690962321926614.post-46686099754986882452018-06-03T16:07:00.001-07:002018-06-03T16:07:10.542-07:00Lap of the LakeThe Seattle International Randonneurs (SIR) has this nifty tool linked from their website called "The Perminator," You can go there to peruse a list of all of their routes, or enter criteria for the route you want -- between 100 and 120 kilometers long with less than 2,000 feet of climbing for example -- and see either a list of a map view of the routes that comply with your requirements. From the list you can open a link to the route on RideWithGPS.com to see if it appeals to you. And when you find one that you like, you click another link and register.<br />
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There's also an option from the Perminator to view who is riding what, so long as they made their registration public. If you have the flexibility, you can join a public registration.<br />
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I've been looking at this page for the past few months, just in case somebody was doing a route on a date and time that worked for me. So far, that hasn't worked out and I keep riding by myself, but it has given me the chance to see which routes are more popular.<br />
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Route 1005 -- the Lake Washington-Lake Sammamish Loop -- shows up on the list a lot. So, with some space on my schedule Wednesday afternoon and the weather being almost perfect, I went out and did that.<br />
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This route has two variants, with one starting in Issaquah and another in Lake Forest Park. Although both were probably equidistant from our house, I opted for Lake Forest Park for what is really the ultimate reason:<br />
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Chocolate.<br />
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You see, there's this great store at the little mall there called Chocolate Man, and they have a chocolate-coated caramel that has habanero in it. To some that will sound yucky, but if you're the adventurous type you gotta try it.<br />
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So I arrived early enough to eat a quick sandwich at Great Harvest Bread Company next door, and then had one caramel before hitting the Burke-Gilman Trail. I cruised quickly south with a light tailwind through the University and across the bridge at Montlake, then climbed up through Interlaken Park before enjoying some city cycling down to the first control at Stumptown Coffee.<br />
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Since it was warm and the middle of the afternoon, I did not get a coffee but instead scarfed a croissant. Then I climbed east, descending back to Lake Washington.<br />
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The early commuters had not yet hit the road, so the Lake Washington Loop was fairly devoid of cars. The light wind was still out of the north, and I zipped past Seward Park.<br />
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Soon, I was in Renton looking for the information control at the airport.<br />
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Just past here I got a bonus mile by following the GPS track, which takes you onto Boeing property. A security officer very nicely corrected my mistake, and I managed to navigate Renton relatively unscathed from there. After another information control, the route took me onto a closed road that seemed to have snow.<br />
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This is actually some kind of white fluffy pollen prevalent here. There's enough of it floating around that you have to remember to breath through your nose or risk a massive coughing fit.<br />
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Eventually, I hit another road that I had seen riding with the Alki Velo Club a few weeks ago -- May Valley Road. The commuter traffic was in full force by then, so although it is a great cycling road when it is not chock-a-block with cars, right then it was not a great cycling road.<br />
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Eventually, May Valley Road ended at Issaquah-Hobart Road. Turning north here, traffic was lighter since apparently everyone who works in Renton lives in Mirrormont or somewhere further southeast. I've done this road a few times, too, and it has a good shoulder for much of the way, and an even better bike lane for the rest of the way in to Issaquah.<br />
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By this point in the ride I had managed to do something that I had not done in a while: Drain two bottles. So I was very pleased to stop for a bit and refill my bottles at the convenience store control, as well as eat half a bag of chips and down a big can of Arnold Palmer mix (tea and lemonade). Then I continued north out of town, dodging cars around I-90, and finally finding "the other lake."<br />
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I had ridden this road before, too, on the first permanent that I did in Seattle. Today was much nicer, with the wind calming a bit so that I could maintain a fast pace all the way past Sammamish and to Redmond, where I got on the Sammamish River Trail.<br />
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The trail was full of folks out having fun, but I was still able to bend the 15-mph speed limit there a bit. Right after the trail turned back into the Burke-Gilman, a cyclist in a skin suit passed me doing 22 mph, and I jumped on his wheel for a mile. When he realized that I was there, he took the pace up a bit. I stuck with him for another mile -- just to show him that I could -- and then backed off and rolled gently into Lake Forest Park for my reward.<br />
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Chocolate.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10800093717662010376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-355690962321926614.post-47563603730601415242018-05-03T10:08:00.001-07:002018-05-03T10:09:23.156-07:00Do You Pronounce the "s" in Des Moines?Ordinarily, I'm a morning guy. The sun comes up, I get up. Simple as that.<br />
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When you live down south, this is a good thing during the summer. I've started long rides at or before sunrise in the summer in Florida, Georgia, and Tennessee just because I wanted to be done before it got so hot that the dogs wouldn't even come out from under the pickup truck to chase me.<br />
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Of course, during the winter we start brevets early just to finish as much as we can before dark. Rolling out onto almost empty roads in the foggy pre-dawn to start a 400K in March, you feel an electric charge when that big fiery ball in the east finally peeks over the horizon. Like Superman, I draw my power from your planet's yellow sun.<br />
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But I must admit that I like what's going on here in Seattle for me now.<br />
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It's still a little chilly in the mornings, but by noon the temperatures are in the mid- to upper-60s. And the sun isn't even beginning to set until 8 pm. If you work for a company that's on Central time -- as I do -- this works well. You get up when the sun comes up before 6 am, so you're "in the office" before 7 am. Since that's 9 am Central, you work a 9-to-5 day and knock off at 3 pm, giving you five hours of daylight.<br />
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Plenty of time for a 100K.<br />
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And so, Thursday, I was able to once again enjoy excellent weather and knock out my monthly permanent populaire. For May, it was RUSA route 0981, which runs from Des Moines to Black Diamond and back. I picked this route because the start is a 20-minute drive from home, and because it has a good amount of climbing (almost 3,000 feet).<br />
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The starting location had good parking at a strip mall not far from this sculpture of a man kissing a fish. I bought a fresh Gatorade from the convenience store there and headed out on time. Some early discrepancies between the cue sheet and current street signs in the first few miles had me pausing a bit, but I was eventually able to make it out of Des Moines and through Kent.<br />
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The "just after school" traffic was starting up, but I had quiet roads with bike lanes for most of the trip. Just past here, the route put me briefly on the Interurban Trail. After a couple of miles on that, I turned off onto a nice quiet road that went inland towards Auburn.<br />
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In Auburn, the golf course and park were very active. The route wound alongside the Green River, so it was flat and scenic.<br />
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Less than an hour after I started, I was at the first control.<br />
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It was kind of nice to have a control that wasn't a bakery. I decided right then that I would eat some meat when I finished.<br />
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The route continued on Green Valley Road, which I had taken a couple of months ago when I rode from home in West Seattle to Black Mountain. Although you're climbing most of the way up Green Valley Road, it's very gradual and the valley funnels the wind to drive you. Just past Flaming Geyser State Park you finally see the Green River again just as the road tips a little more steeply upwards for a mile or two.<br />
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At the end of Green Valley Road, you have to get onto Hwy 169. It was very busy when I hit it about 5 pm, with lots of dump trucks. The road has a wide shoulder, but it has rumble strips and a lot of debris. It's not the most pleasant part of the route.<br />
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Fortunately, you are soon in Black Diamond. Out of respect for the cow, I did not stop at the bakery in town but instead headed on towards Franklin. The air was so clear that Mount Rainier lurked like a white ghost off to my right.<br />
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Franklin is supposedly a coal-mining ghost town. There's a trail that leads from here down to the old town, where the foundations of many buildings remain, as well as the old shaft into the mine. Despite the resurgence of coal as a source of "clean energy" -- not to mention renewable -- there does not appear to be anything in the works for re-opening this mine and bringing those precious coal-mining jobs back to the struggling Seattle economy.<br />
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Such a shame to let land go to waste being beautiful, when we could instead suck resources out of it.<br />
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The route skirts the edge of the Green River Gorge Conservation Area as it heads back southwest, then gets on a series of roads before dumping you back onto Green Valley Road again just past the river.<br />
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Although I was no going "downhill" out of Green Valley, the wind made me work. Soon, I was in Auburn trying to find the next control -- the card has it as a gas station that is no longer there, but the cue sheet says it can be an open control. I settled on a bakery this time (sorry, beef), where I sat in the sun out on the terrace and ate a tasty muffin.<br />
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My stomach less empty, I passed through Auburn and headed north on the Interurban. There were lots of commuters heading home now, both on the trail and in their cars. The cyclists were friendly, but the cars did not seem to have much patience for me, particularly when I went through Federal Way. Maybe I mis-read the vibe, but it's possible that Federal Way may be one of those Seattle suburbs that are just best avoided by cyclists.<br />
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Finally getting out of Federal Way, I descended towards Poverty Bay and rode along the beach in Redondo.<br />
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This area is super nice, with homes of all shapes and sizes -- although not much of what I would consider "poverty." The weather was great, and everybody in the area obviously wanted to go to the beach. This stream of cars stretched for a mile.<br />
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And, no, I did not see anybody else who had had the epiphany: "Why don't I get on my bike and go to the beach instead?" Of course, that may have been because the road coming back from this beach was painfully steep. Or it could be that the road doesn't have a bike lane, but just a shoulder with an intermittent car parked on it interspersed with regular patches of broken glass.<br />
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If they built a bike lane, would people use it? I like to think so.<br />
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After a few more Washington coast up-and-down knee-wrecking climbs, I was back in Des Moines. Apparently, the Overlook Hotel there is for sale.<br />
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There's a bike lane in front of it. I did not see any ghost bikes.<br />
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Generally, I liked this route. It may be more fun to do on a weekend or at a different time of day, since rush-hour commuters can make some areas unpleasant. Up near Black Mountain and Franklin, there are a lot of dump trucks hauling gravel on weekdays -- while most of them passed with enough space, anything with that much mass going 60 mph is a little nerve-wracking when it passes you. Plus, they spill a lot of gravel on the roads and tend to tear up the pavement, so you have to watch where your wheel is going.<br />
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But the scenery -- other than in the denser neighborhoods separating the coast from the country -- is very nice, and the terrain has a good mix of challenges. So I would do this route again, particularly now that I know where things are.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10800093717662010376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-355690962321926614.post-58136262754706014972018-04-27T09:49:00.000-07:002018-04-27T09:49:21.457-07:00A Drawbridge Too FarWe had a week of spectacular weather, and I needed to keep my promise to <a href="http://randoboy.blogspot.com/2018/02/unluck-o-drawbridges.html" target="_blank">try the Luck of the Drawbridges 100K again</a>, so I slipped out Thursday afternoon to get in one more April permanent populaire.<br />
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Between a stiff north wind and the late lunch crowd downtown bumping into the sight-seeing crowd, it was slow going at first. Once I got past the shipyard and the railyard (every form of conveyance was proudly on display) and answered the questions for the first two information controls, I climbed Fremont through a series of neighborhoods and then got on the Interurban Trail.<br />
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It was about this point, 21 miles into the route, when I rode the route in February that I screwed up. Having learned my lesson, however, this time I treated the Starbucks like an information control instead of a control-control, and did not even go in to get coffee. Instead, I just wrote down the answer to the question on the card.<br />
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Now, if you were a devious person, you could be reading this blog in preparation for riding this route. You might even have the brevet card in your hand and be looking at the seven (yes, SEVEN) information control questions and you might say, "Wow! There's the answer to the question on the brevet card!" And you may be right ... but what kind of loser cheats on a permanent? I guess if you wanted to get a P-12 or an R-12 or some kind of RUSA mileage award, you could do it that way. But it would still be obvious to the people who really DO the mileage that you're still a poseur. You'd basically be like that guy in college with a "hot" girlfriend back home that nobody's ever seen -- we all know it's bull, and you still aren't getting any (fun riding your bike, that is).<br />
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The next control was the control-control in Lake Forest that I had failed to stop at last time. Since it was almost 3 pm and 75 degrees, I didn't feel like coffee at the Starbucks so I went around the corner and found this.<br />
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On the left is a Great Harvest Bread Company, and on the right is Chocolate Man. I love the Great Harvest Bread Company in West Seattle, and it would have been nice to grab a baguette to nosh on for the next 20 miles. Unfortunately, the Great Harvest in Lake Forest doesn't have as much of a variety.<br />
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Chocolate Man, however, has a TON of chocolates. I got a white-chocolate haystack that was awesome, and a habanero milk chocolate caramel that was even freaking better.<br />
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I now have an "extra" control for any time I do a route that takes the Burke-Gilman trail through Lake Forest.<br />
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From the control you get on the trail. Since it was such a nice day, the trail had quite a few folks on it, including a lot of commuters.<br />
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Although the rain last week had caused another slide near the trail, they already had it cleaned up. And the flowers and trees were obviously happy from that rain.<br />
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I passed through the University of Washington campus, crossed another drawbridge, and went through the arboretum on a new trail.<br />
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This part of the route was different from when I rode it in February. At first I thought it would be flatter, but it still has a tough little climb near the end.<br />
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On a Saturday you would probably have to follow that 10 mph speed limit.<br />
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The route still goes down to Seward Park. Since it's much nicer now, there were a ton of boats anchored off the park.<br />
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I didn't see anybody swimming, but there were folks lounging on the foredeck in swimming attire and working on their tan. The rich, they are different from you and I.<br />
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For one thing, they have boats and we just have bicycles.<br />
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When you're trying to do this route officially, it gets a little frustrating. I was working very hard while riding through the park to find the answer to the question for the FOURTH information control, and the instructions were a little nebulous. For a while, I thought the answer was on this sign.<br />
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But it wasn't. Instead, you go up a hill and the answer is on this sign.<br />
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And, no, the answer isn't on the "NO BICYCLES ..." sign, but on that post. And it's really faded, so you almost have to read it with your fingers like braille or something.<br />
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Once out of the park, you pass through a number of South Seattle neighborhoods and then cross I-5 near Boeing.<br />
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Then you cross another drawbridge into South Park and begin looking for another cryptic information control. This one is a sign at a park.<br />
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This is not the sign.<br />
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Although, because I slowed down to check this sign out, I did happen to notice a bunch of folks looking out at the waterway here, oohing and aahing. They were watching this seal.<br />
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Yeah, not a great picture. But it's hard to get a good picture of anything swimming -- even Michael Phelps -- and I was in a bit of a hurry because I was still trying to officially finish a brevet and I still needed to find the stupid sign.<br />
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Eventually, I found the sign.<br />
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At this point, the route gets on the Duwamish Trail. I put my head down into the wind -- plus it makes it easier to watch for all of the glass and road debris on this trail -- and eventually got back to West Seattle. The route had two more information controls (of course), the first of which was (of course) a cryptic reference to a sign near the end of the beach. It made for a wonderful photo opportunity, and gave me the chance to look at house numbers while dodging skateboarders and baby strollers.<br />
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Frankly, the better photo opportunities were past the lighthouse.<br />
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It's not as clear in the picture above, but you could see Mount Rainier. Most folks here say that any day you can see Rainier is a good day.<br />
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After riding along the nice beach road like this for a couple of miles, there was one last information control at the turn heading inland. That control was easy to find, and not very photogenic. The climb after it, of course, was painful -- as it always is coming back to West Seattle after a long ride.<br />
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Once back in town, I was starving. So I got a burger, fries, and a milkshake.<br />
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And now I can say that I've done RUSA permanent 2596. Since it starts about a mile from my house, I may do it again. At least next time I won't have to waste as much time and energy hunting for the information controls.<br />
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Unless somebody changes them.<br />
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Which would suck.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10800093717662010376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-355690962321926614.post-85100516640350575142018-04-10T22:25:00.001-07:002018-04-10T22:25:24.905-07:00I Love Big FiveAh, April. When a young man's thoughts turn to love, and an old man's thoughts turn to "I've got to get in another populaire for my P-12."<br />
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The forecast for Monday was perfect, so I knocked off a little early and started the <a href="https://ridewithgps.com/routes/5859814" target="_blank">Club Car 100K</a> (RUSA route 1801) at noon. Since it was another of those routes that starts up by the University, I had to deal with the usual parking issues, but this time I did my research and found a lot just down from the starting control, grabbing a spot near The BackDoor -- a very interesting-looking speakeasy that I will have to revisit some other time for a less athletic adventure.<br />
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Of course, it was a paid lot and I didn't have a $10 bill, so I went down to the control -- Caffe Ladro -- and got a quick bite. With change in jersey pocket and five minutes to go before my scheduled noon starting time, I then jumped on my bike to go put money in the machine ... and found that my rear tire was flat.<br />
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No problem, I thought. My car is here. I've got a floor pump in the back, and should have spare tubes.<br />
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And, of course, the pump was there, but there were no fresh tubes.<br />
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No problem, I thought. This is why I carry two spare tubes.<br />
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And the universe chuckled.<br />
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It took a little longer to change the tire than usual, since the rims currently on the bike I was using are ... how should I put this nicely ... recalcitrant. Of course, that wasn't the word I used in the parking lot as I wrestled the tire back on, but this is a family blog. Thus, back at Caffe Ladro at 12:10, I got my card signed and was finally able to head out.<br />
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The route (of course) immediately got on the Burke-Gilman Trail, passing through the University of Washington campus before crossing the Montlake Bridge to go to the Lake Washington loop. I missed one turn on the Loop and got a bonus half-mile climbing a nasty hill, but the GPS quickly set me right and soon I was rolling by marinas full of nice yachts across from stately homes.<br />
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Getting on the I-90 Trail, I felt good and began thinking how I might finish this ride early enough to need to worry about traffic on the drive home. Then I felt a familiar flacidity from the back of the bike, and heard the universe guffaw as my tire went flat almost exactly in the middle of the bridge.<br />
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OK, I thought (since "No problem" was off the table). I've got a patch kit. Let's just make sure that this time we figure out what the issue is before we put the tube in.<br />
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So, off goes the wheel and out comes the tube. It's another puncture, and it seems to be in the same place as the last one. But search as I may, I cannot find what's causing it. There is nothing in the tire, so all I can think is that the rim tape on the wheel has shifted and one of the spoke ends is getting through. So I carefully align the rim tape and put on my last fresh tube ... and then wrestle for the next 15 minutes trying to get the $%&-ing tire back on the god-$^*@ wheel.<br />
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At one point, I tried resorting to levering it back on with my tire lever ... which promptly snapped. Then I had to take what little of the tire that I had on the wheel back off so that I could retrieve the tip.<br />
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On the plus side, a lot of cyclists stopped -- or at least slowed -- and offered assistance. I asked one group of supportive cyclists if there was a bike shop on Mercer Island, just in case I needed to buy another tube. They said no, but that there were some in Bellevue. So, when I finally got the $%&-ing tire back on the god-$^*@ wheel, I pulled out my phone and Googled it. Tracing the upcoming route using my GPS and the cue sheet, there appeared to be a mall with a sporting goods store less than a mile off of the route.<br />
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Gingerly, I crossed the bridge and Mercer Island, trying to float over every pothole, seam, and the ubiquitous pavement-heaving-ripples-from-tree-roots on the trail. Turning south on Factoria Boulevard brought me to the mall, where I began looking for a Sports Authority or Dick's Sporting Goods. Instead, I found this.<br />
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I parked out front and ran in, asking a sales associate if they had bicycle inner tubes. She wasn't sure, but led me over to their very thin stock of cycling supplies. I had all but given up hope when she found a display with just the right inner tubes.<br />
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As I paid for two tubes, I promised myself that I would name this blog post "I Love Big Five," because they saved me. I also was happy that this store wasn't a Dick's, because then the title might attract the wrong kind of reader.<br />
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From Factoria, the route climbs a road paralleling the interstate before cutting over to another road that followed the interstate. The second road had a bike lane and the longest, most gradual descent I've seen in years.<br />
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Soon, I was in Issaquah, where I managed to miss the information control thanks to the bonus miles and my minimal math capacity. Fortunately, I was worried enough that I stopped and pulled out the cue sheet to discover my error, and it was easy to retrace my route (bonus mile) back to take this picture and write down the answer to the question on the card. Then it was another bonus mile back.<br />
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It was now after 3 pm, and the early rush hour traffic on Issaquah-Hobart Road made for a fun few miles. After a steady stream of cars and trucks heading for Mirrormont, I was glad to turn off on Cedar Grove Road.<br />
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I've always loved how some towns manage to hold on to a bit of farmland surrounded by suburbia, and the road towards Cedar Grove had plenty of that -- and a good shoulder, too. I was still worried about the tire, even though it seemed to be holding up just fine, and grimaced when I saw the "Rough Pavement" sign as I turned on to S. Lake Francis Road. But the route almost immediately turned off onto another quiet farm road.<br />
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At the Maple Valley control, I grabbed a couple of candy bars, got my card signed, and then headed out for the Cedar River Trail.<br />
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Although I was heading downstream with the river, a wind had come up out of the north. It was hard work, but I kept my speed above the 15 mph limit, since I was still way behind on my pace thanks to the earlier tire mishaps.<br />
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Soon, I was passing through the suburbs south of Renton and watching the rush hour traffic creep by. Although there were a few commuters on the trail heading the other way, I couldn't help but think that more of those people in those cars would've been having a lot more fun if they had ridden theirs bikes to work that morning.<br />
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As I got closer to Renton, I saw lots of folks out enjoying the trail on a lovely day. A cyclists passed me, saying something about the headwind, and I considered sitting on his wheel for a bit. But I knew that we were almost in town, and he was probably just doing a short training ride.<br />
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When I finally got to Renton, I was tired. I paused to eat the other candy bar, and to take a picture of this bar. Had I walked in -- sweaty and spandexed as I was -- would everybody really know my name?<br />
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On the north side of Renton, the route takes a perimeter road around the airport.<br />
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It was pretty cool biking along and watching small planes take off. They've also got a lot of big jets there, which apparently they fix. There's a sign warning of noise from testing the engines.<br />
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The route took Rainier Avenue out of town, cruising along the edge of the bottom of Lake Washington. This road has a pretty good protected bike lane, so the rush hour traffic zipping alongside me was never an issue. I saw lots of commuters going the other way, so there's obviously a lot of folks that live in Renton and ride their bikes to work in Seattle.<br />
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Eventually, I turned off of Rainier Avenue onto a surface road that didn't have a bike lane. Even worse, it had a tough little climb. Cars behaved fairly well, including one Mercedes Benz with the top down, driven by an elderly gentleman smoking a cigar and talking loudly on his cell phone. Stereotype in Sensurround.<br />
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The climb paid off with a nice descent down to Seward Park, where I got back on the Lake Washington Loop. The wind was still on my nose, but the views were great.<br />
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As always happens in Seattle, eventually you leave the water and need to climb. But I was nearing the end now, passing through nice neighborhoods on the edge of the University district.<br />
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I knew I was almost done when I went through the Arboretum. Again, lots of folks were out enjoying the day, taking pictures of the blooming flowers and enjoying the incredible array of trees that they have.<br />
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Just past this I got back on my outbound route at the bridge, cruising down the Burke-Gilman Trail again through the University. I was back at my car before 6 pm, with my two spare Big Five inner tubes still in my bag, unused. That's probably just as well, since if I'd had to change another tire I would've gone postal on those freaking rims and been forced to walk the rest of the route.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10800093717662010376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-355690962321926614.post-87832793832298419022018-04-03T17:02:00.002-07:002018-04-03T17:02:38.555-07:00Fun is a Ferry Ride AwayEver since we moved here, I've seen lots of bicycles heading for the Fauntleroy Ferry. Many of them are obviously commuters, dressed for any weather possibility and with at least one bag strapped onto their racks or atop the platform of their cargo bike. But many of them -- particularly on the weekend -- are dressed in racing kit and riding carbon fiber bikes that can barely hold a seat bag with a spare tube.<br />
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It was the destination of these dilettantes that interested me, so when we had a little break in the weather one day last week and I was able to knock off work a little early, I grabbed my bike and zipped two miles down the hill to catch the ferry to Vashon.<br />
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I had, of course, checked the schedule, so that a boat was there and about to leave. I paid my $6.45 and, less than 15 minutes later, I was walking my bike onto the dock.<br />
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Since I spend far too much of my day dreaming and planning for various bike rides, I already had a Vashon route programmed into my GPS. When I had put the route together weeks ago, I saw that it would start with a harsh hill. I almost made it all the way up without walking, but cold legs and the heavy bike I was on that day proved too tough a combination to overcome.<br />
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At the top, I followed the main road across the island for about a mile, and then turned onto a quieter road. A very quiet road. Maybe even too quiet ... The kind of road on which you begin to think that the pavement is going to end at the bottom of a steep hill where there used to be a bridge.<br />
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Pretty soon, however, I realized that, no, the pavement was going to last, but that the road was used only by the people that live off of it. That's because nobody in their right mind wants to meander on any road that is this winding and has this many really steep ups and downs.<br />
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The painful road eventually ran into another quiet road that was much less painful. While I had enjoyed the forest views of the painful road, the new road soon had me rolling past fields of cattle and sheep. Although it was mid-afternoon on a "work day," the few cars that passed me were all friendly.<br />
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A few miles of this took me across the ridge on the west side of the island before rejoining the main road. I descended the wide shoulder of that road all the way down to the other ferry on Vashon.<br />
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Then, of course, came another climb. Maybe my legs were warmer, or maybe the road wasn't as steep, but I was able to make it back up away from the coast without walking this time.<br />
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I was soon on the main road, which took me to Magnolia Beach.<br />
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Since the road at this point stayed close to the shore -- and since the wind from the south was now finally behind me -- I cruised along this section to Burton.<br />
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There was a nice loop here out onto a peninsula full of lovely homes, after which I stopped at the store and refilled my water bottle. Then I continued along the shore to Portage, where I turned off to loop a larger peninsula. After a few more hills, I descended into Dockton.<br />
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This is a cute quiet town, and the road that I took back out had an excellent climb. At the top, I passed through Dockton Park, which has miles of mountain biking trails that go all the way to the beach.<br />
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After rolling along the top of this ridge, I came to a spot with a scenic view.<br />
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Tacoma looks nice from here.<br />
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I descended down to the easternmost point, where there is a lighthouse. Since the road to that involved a hard half-mile climb -- and because I was running out of daylight -- I left the lighthouse for another day and headed towards Fern Heath.<br />
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This was another of those roads with tough climbs and no traffic, but you could see the houses from this road. Since most of the homes were on the shore, they were really really nice.<br />
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The other side of the road was more of a fern gully than a fern heath.<br />
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Soon I was leaving the peninsula via Portage and biking along the water to Ellisport. From there, I climbed inland and hit downtown Vashon.<br />
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The downtown area has a number of shops and restaurants. Fortunately, the bakery that I found on the main drag was still open. I bought and scarfed a couple of delicious coconut macaroons.<br />
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My planned route included one last loop east towards the coast, but I was running out of daylight so I stayed on the main road all the way back to the ferry. Although it had faster traffic on it, and much of it was the ever-speeding commuter type, this road has a pretty good shoulder and I had no trouble.<br />
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When I got to the ferry dock, a boat was just leaving.<br />
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By the way, that $6.45 that I paid earlier is for a round-trip, as I discovered when I tried to buy a ticket back to Seattle. The nice man at the terminal told me where to wait, and I hung out while more commuters showed up to stand with me in our little pedestrian pen.<br />
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Eventually, the ferry came and took me back to Fauntleroy. A light rain had begun as I headed the two miles uphill back to the house, but the views on Vashon were totally worth getting rained on.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10800093717662010376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-355690962321926614.post-45596173979650483082018-03-26T08:53:00.003-07:002018-03-26T08:53:43.548-07:00What I Won't Do for an Apple FritterSo I went to Puerto Vallarta for a week and hung out by the beach eating and drinking too much bad stuff with good friends, and not even touching a bicycle or really exercising at all.<br />
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It was great.<br />
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But, it didn't do much for my fitness. I felt like I needed to boost my base miles, and Saturday and Sunday here in Seattle were fairly nice -- a little cool and breezy, but at least not raining much -- so I headed out for a long ride on Sunday.<br />
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My route was one that I had planned online over a month ago, starting with a flat cruise south down the Duwamish, Green River, and Interurban Trails. It was early enough when I started -- and still lightly sprinkling -- so that the trails were fairly devoid of pedestrians. The roads were also less full of cars, so on most parts of the Duwamish Trail I was able to get on the road and not wind my way between the piles of debris prevalent on that multi-use trail.<br />
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The wind was out of the south at a steady 10 mph, so it was hard work to maintain a decent speed. I stayed mostly in the drops going down the Interurban, dreaming of how pleasant the wind would be later when I got to return north.<br />
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I had skipped breakfast and thus badly needed the latte and muffin I got at Zola's Cafe in Auburn. At that point, I was just over 25 miles in and considered heading back. But the skies had cleared when I finished my late breakfast, and I decided to do the loop up to Black Mountain.<br />
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One of these days I'd like to stop here and see what a flaming geyser looks like.<br />
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There were many cyclists coming back as I headed up the gentle grade, and I considered that maybe I was doing this loop the wrong way. But the inclines stayed mild and the road stayed wide enough to accommodate me and the somewhat frequent speeding cars. Soon, I was in town.<br />
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All of the routes that I had seen favored a stop at the Black Mountain Bakery, and I decided to take a break there. The apple fritter that I got was huge and very tasty, and was easily worth the labor of the climb.<br />
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Leaving town, I got on busy Hwy 169 heading south. When I got to the turn that my GPS wanted me to take, however, I saw that it was a dirt road. Assuming that my GPS was concerned about me staying on a busy road too long, I ignored it and continued south looking for a better option.<br />
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When I got to Green Valley Road, the sign indicated that it would go to Flaming Geyser State Park. For some reason, my brain rejected that, thinking that the road was doubling back too much, and so I stayed on Hwy 169.<br />
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Soon, the road had a long descent to a bridge over the Green River, followed by an even longer climb. It was about 2/3 of the way up this climb that I began to think that I should have taken Green Valley Road, but at that point the prospect of going back down that hill on that busy road and then climbing back up the other side did not appeal to me. Thus, at the top of the climb, I pulled out a phone and opened Google Maps. Sure enough, Hwy 169 was just going to continue south, away from home, and so I picked a series of smaller roads that would allow me to get back on route.<br />
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The countryside was quietly rolling to flat, with small farms and fields of grazing cattle. The roads were in good shape, and the few cars that I saw passed with plenty of room. At one of the many places where I stopped to consult Google Maps and confirm my direction, some kids in a passing car even gave me a "Woo-hoo." At least they no longer yell, "Go Lance!"<br />
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Finally I crossed back over the Green River and got on Green Valley Road, where I was supposed to be. As the name suggested, this road winds its way through a mostly flat and rather verdant valley. Although I was generally heading east, the wind had shifted slightly -- or was being redirected by the hills -- so that it stayed on my nose here. By the time that I got back to Auburn, I was tired.<br />
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I skipped Zola's this time (remember that "eating lots of stuff at the beach" comment earlier?). Back on the Interurban Trail, it was easy to break the posted 15 mph speed limit while barely turning over the pedals. The sun and wind had dried the trail, too. This was particularly nice on the frequent railroad crossings that this trail has near Kent and Tukwilla.<br />
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Back on the Duwamish Trail, near South Park, I noticed this ghost bike.<br />
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It honors Marvin Miller, who "died doing what he loved" on this trail. Although I don't plan to do either any time soon, it's better to burn out than to fade away.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10800093717662010376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-355690962321926614.post-51864038006341117882018-03-11T09:59:00.000-07:002018-03-11T10:14:13.244-07:00Too Much of a Good Thing?Saturday was the Spring Populaire for the Seattle International Randonneurs (SIR). Since it was about as perfect a March day as you could hope for in Seattle, and since I wanted to meet some of my fellow randonneurs in the area, I signed up.<br />
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We started from Woodland Park, which is near the Seattle Zoo. The park is gorgeous, with soccer fields and ball parks and Green Lake, which is popular for rowing. The neighborhood around the park is nice, too, with lovely homes and at least one very good coffee shop.<br />
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I got to the start of the ride nice and early and chatted with some of the other cyclists. It was a huge turnout, with 50-75 riders. In talking to them I learned that this was the first RUSA event for some, while others reminisced about the heat on the last Gold Rush Randonee or how they will be doing their fourth Cascade 1200 differently.<br />
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The organizers welcome us and briefed us, and reminded us that most of the route was on multi-use trails. Since the forecast was good, we would need to watch out for other folks enjoying the day there. Then, promptly at 9 am, they let us go.<br />
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With such a large group, we naturally clumped up to almost do the ride "audiax style." On the way out of town, one lady in a car took exception to the group of six or so that I was with, telling us at a red light that "you should be in cars."<br />
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She was mostly the exception, however, as the drivers in Seattle are used to bicycles and usually manage to deal with us ... although, to be fair, we didn't always deal well with them this morning. We continued to climp up at many red lights and stop signs, sometimes blocking cars from coming out as we came around them and headed for the far lane. In our minds, we we just trying to get out of their way -- but I think that, had I been in a car like the lady earlier had said I should be, I might not have seen it that way.<br />
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After passing by a marina full of sailboats heading out for a gorgeous day, and then climbing back up through Golden Gardens Park -- with a painful stop halfway to write the answer for an information control -- we passed through a series of neighborhoods. The streets were fairly quiet for 10 am on a nice Saturday, and most of the traffic was us.<br />
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It was a good group of riders. There just may have been too much of a good thing here.<br />
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Not far past our third information control, we got on the Interurban Trail going north. Then, we turned east up a short steep hill. I was at the top of the hill when somebody mentioned that there had been another information control at the bottom, so I got to enjoy the steep hill twice.<br />
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We crossed over I-5 heading east, and then enjoyed a really fun descent down towards the lake. I'd done this descent a few weeks earlier when I tried <a href="http://randoboy.blogspot.com/2018/02/unluck-o-drawbridges.html" target="_blank">the Luck of the Drawbridges permanent</a>, but this time I was with a small group and could follow their line. It was a blast!<br />
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At the lake we got on the Burke-Gilman Trail again, heading northeast through Kenmore before transitioning to the Sammamish River Trail. By now, this stretch has become very familiar to me, but it was nice riding it with a group. I had people to talk with, and of course riding with a group allows you -- and inspires you -- to ride a little faster.<br />
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We took the Sammamish River Trail down to Redmond, where we stopped at the Whole Foods control and everyone got something to eat and drink and sat in the sun for a bit. I had a cup of coffee and a croissant and chatted with a bunch of folks. People were leaving in bits, and I've gotten so used to short controls that I began to get antsy, so soon I headed out with two other fellows.<br />
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The three of us became four before I stopped in Woodinville to use the rest room. As I came out, another group of 10 or 12 was coming by, so I joined in with them.<br />
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Since it was about noon now, there were a lot of people out walking, biking, rollerblading, and skateboarding on the Sammamish River Trail and the Burke-Gillman Trails. Although we had a fairly well-behaved group of very experienced cyclists, it meant for a lot of surging and slowing, stopping, scooting past on the grass, bell-ringing, calling out, and post-pass apologies. We were all just trying to enjoy ourselves on this very nice day on a multi-use trail, but there was too much "multi" on what is really just a narrow winding bit of asphalt with lots of stops for crossing traffic.<br />
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Maybe we could have broken up into smaller groups, but the trail itself stymies that. You would be in a smaller group, and then you come upon a traffic jam with a family pushing a stroller and a Strava-segment seeking cyclist zipping by the other way, so that the smaller group behind your smaller group catches up and now you're a big group. The big group passes four runners nicely, with "Hellos" and "Good afternoons," when all of a sudden another training triathlete down on her aerobars comes around the corner ahead and you've go to scurry back over to the right. Then you get around the corner and there's a big group of randonneurs ahead waiting for a light to change, and abracadabra your peloton is once more massive.<br />
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Again, a confluence of good weather luring more people than had been initially forecast onto a limited facility -- too much of a good thing.<br />
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Trail traffic got even thicker as we cruised along the top of Lake Washington and past the University, and I think we were all happy to get off the trail and head inland. As we all know, however, inland means "climbing," and the route had a number of harsh face-slaps in the final miles before hitting the ultimate control at Zeek's Pizza.<br />
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It was a good group to ride with and a beautiful route on a lovely day. Apparently, the route is also a permanent, which is why there were so many information controls to keep people on the preferred roads. Had it been a March day like many other days around here, they would have been necessary; but since many of us were rarely out of sight of other cyclists and hence would not have had a chance to "take a short cut," they were just opportunities to slow down and gather our thoughts.<br />
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A more normal March day also would have made for less traffic on the trails. Was there anything that the organizers could have done differently about that? I don't think so. They warned us at the start that there would be a lot of people out that day, and that should have been obvious to us all. And you have to remember that this was a Spring Populaire -- the end-caps of the randonneuriing world, where we lure new riders in with a good route and expose them to things like route sheets, brevet cards, and controls. SIR chose a relatively flat route, with just enough climbing to keep things interesting and provide the elevation necessary for a fun descent or two. The route starting in town also made it more accessible -- I heard at least one rider say that this would be her first brevet and that "it was so close to home that I had to come."<br />
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Nobody could have foreseen sun and 60-degree temperatures for the second Saturday in March in Seattle. It was a good thing ... but it was a good thing for both cyclists and non-cyclists, and everybody deserves the right to get out and enjoy this beautiful planet on a perfect weekend.<br />
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PS: If any of you want to see video from this ride, Yogy Namara <a href="https://youtu.be/nFhQvZdUnp0" target="_blank">posted a video</a>. I'm the geek in the Gran Fondo jacket.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10800093717662010376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-355690962321926614.post-39367214393936767622018-03-04T16:40:00.000-08:002018-03-04T16:40:11.042-08:00The Easiest 100K Yet<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
March came in like a lamb here in Seattle ... or maybe like a lamb kebab that's been in the fridge for a few days: Dried out and cold, but palatable. Over the years, I've learned to take what I can get, so I went out as soon as possible to get in my March 100K.</div>
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Continuing my exploratory string, I decided to do the Centennial Trail Run (RUSA 1354). The route starts in Snohomish (I've been pronouncing that exactly the way that it looks, and I am almost certainly wrong), which I had briefly visited on my last 100K. This time, however, I drove here. Tip: It takes longer to drive here than you think, particularly on a weekday.</div>
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The first control was the Snohomish Bakery (also the control from my February 100K). I'd opted for a 10 am start, in hopes of enjoying the warmest part of the day; however, the day pretty much stayed in the upper 30s and low 40s. The plus side of this was that it simplified my attire needs, since I didn't have to worry about stashing anything that I took off and/or might need later. Basically, I just stayed dressed the same all day.</div>
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As you can guess from the tip above, I got to Snohomish less than 10 minutes before my start time. I found a parking spot, got my bike out (I'd opted for Sparkletini today, just in case the rain potentials turned out to not be in my favor), ran over the bakery, scarfed something (maybe a scone? it was all so fast) and hit the road about five minutes late.</div>
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This route has much to recommend it. For one thing, it's almost entirely on the Centennial Trail, which is a rails-to-trails that connects Snohomish to Arlington and points just beyond. I've learned never to say, "you could not get lost" because I've got friends that can get lost anywhere, and I've also found that anyone can get lost on any route if they are sufficiently sleep-deprived. But, that being said, you'd have a hard time getting lost on this route.<br />
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About the time I saw this espresso stand (great thing about the Pacific Northwest -- roadside espresso stands just about freaking EVERYWHERE), I realized that I had been on this before, and on this same bike. Sparkeltini and I had used this on <a href="http://randoboy.blogspot.com/2014/06/the-fill-in-gap-tour.html" target="_blank">the first day of my four-day tour from Seattle to Vancouver</a>. I seem to recall parts of it still being under construction then, but it is now complete and very well marked.<br />
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We'd had some strong winds out of the northeast (not the usual direction for winds here) a week before, and some of the residue from the clean-up remained. Overall, however, the trail was in excellent shape other than the usual areas where roots or improperly packed base have caused rippling and buckling of the asphalt. So long as you watch for those and keep at least one hand on the bars, however, you should be good.<br />
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I was trying to maintain a 15 mph average, and soon I was in Arlington. Although this is a nice little town, the trail here runs along one of the busier roads and you have to slow down or stop regularly for the curb cuts.<br />
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From Arlington, you start to see mountains. The tops were covered in snow, and I started to worry that I was going to have to climb at least the base of them. My fears were unfounded.<br />
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You know you're on a rail-to-trail when you go by the old station building. They're usually welcome centers like this or museums, but sometimes they're shops or restaurants.<br />
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Leaving Arlington, I stopped to get this picture of the view up the river towards the mountains.<br />
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Just before the end of the route, the trail ends. At this point, you've been on it almost 30 miles.<br />
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North of Pilchuck (not much of a town, but they <i>do </i>have an espresso stand), the trail ends at this lovely parking lot. There's a barn with all kinds of historical stuff that you can read when you're not trying to do a 100K in a time limit. Of course, I just got on the road.<br />
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You roll north on Washington Hwy 9 to Lake McMurray and stop at the store there. The lady there actually has a stamp for my card, just like you get at controls on 1200Ks. It was so cool.<br />
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I ate a bag of chips and drank a cold ice tea out in front of the store, but the breeze coming off the lake and my cooling body made me keep the break short.<br />
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Leaving the store, I stopped for another picture of the view of the mountains behind the lake.<br />
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Hwy 9 had a lot of logging trucks while I was on it -- at least six passed me during those five miles. The drivers all passed cleanly, however, and I've always loved the smell of sap from fresh-cut trees.<br />
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I got back on the trail at the same place, of course, and headed south. The wind had been fairly light and out of the east, so it was no help on the first leg. It shifted a little south later, so it was less help then.<br />
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Another sign you're on a rail-to-trail: You go through a swamp. For railroads, it was always flat land that they just had to build up a bit, and it was cheap.<br />
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We had a bit of snow over the past weekend. In West Seattle, it was all melted. But along the trail, in shadier sections, some of it remained.<br />
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Again, as you expect with a rails-to-trails, none of the "hills" were tough. There are really two lumps on the trail, with the first one being about 15 miles wide at its base. This meant that I had a "climb" of about eight miles at 1-2% on the way out, followed by a "descent" of another eight miles. With the wind shift, the "descent" at the end of the route was much appreciated, since it allowed me to keep my average up to 15 mph.<br />
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I got back to Snohomish right at 3 pm. The lady at the bakery knew the drill, too, and signed my card as soon as I pulled it out. She said that when it gets warmer they'll get big brevets coming through, with randonneurs out the door and everybody yelling, "Don't forget your card!"<br />
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Other than the long drive up to Snohomish and the fact that it's an out-and-back, I enjoyed this route. The trail lends itself perfectly to a 100K. And with less than 1,500 feet of climbing, plenty of shade from sun and wind, and lots of places to stop for food or drink or potty breaks, this should make a good option for any time when I need to get a "fool-proof" ride in.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10800093717662010376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-355690962321926614.post-43414482816685996082018-02-19T17:33:00.001-08:002018-02-19T17:33:36.448-08:00Country Roads and Tasty PastriesAfter <a href="http://randoboy.blogspot.com/2018/02/unluck-o-drawbridges.html" target="_blank">failing to finish the Luck of the Drawbridges</a> on Thursday, I didn't think that I would have a chance to try another permanent populaire so soon. But, after a gorgeous Saturday, I awoke the next morning to a forecast calling for an almost-as-nice Sunday. Since my legs felt good, I quickly signed up for the "Baked Goods 100" (RUSA route 2651) using the SIR "Perminator" and then got everything loaded into my car.<br />
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I had signed up for a 10 am start, so leaving the house just after 8 it seemed like I would have no problems. Then a Mercer Island policeman pulled me over on I-90, and I thought that I was doomed. Fortunately, it was just because my tags had expired and he let me off with a warning.<br />
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The first control is open at an area called The Commons in Woodinville. I found a good parking spot in a park next to the Sammamish River Trail and then rode up to this place before 9:30. For once, I had time to eat a cinnamon roll and have a couple of cups of coffee.<br />
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By the time I hit the road at 10 am, it had warmed up a bit but was still foggy. The route had me get on the Sammamish River Trail, and I recognized where I was on that trail about the time that I got off of it near downtown Woodinville. I cruised through town on a nice road with a good bike lane, and then climbed for about a mile and a half up onto the ridge. From there, the roads were quiet and rolling, and soon the last of the clouds cleared away.<br />
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The road dropped down into a pretty valley full of farms, and the quiet roads continued as I approached Snohomish. I passed a group of four cyclists on a training ride headed the other way, and they all waved and called "hello." It was nice that they were friendly, but I could also tell that they were trying to figure out who this new randonneur (obvious because of the bags and lights on my bike) was. Seattle may have a lot of cyclists, but it's still a small community.<br />
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Control #2 is a popular one in the area -- the Snohomish Bakery at First and Union. Although I was not exactly cruising, I had plenty of time for another pastry and a cup of coffee. On the way out of town, I saw more cyclists coming in.<br />
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I retraced the same roads that I had used to get to Snohomish for a few miles, and then veered left towards the river.<br />
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This made for a long ride over gently rolling hills, with many flooded fields off to one side presenting a gorgeous view.<br />
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Many of the trees in Washington are coated in moss, so they look like they're wearing puffy green sweaters. Otherwise, this could have been a road in middle Tennessee.</div>
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Eventually, the route crossed over the river and got onto a multi-use trail that follows Hwy 203 in to Carnation. This was my least favorite "road" of the route, since the trail was small gravel that got slippy at about 15 mph on it -- and I was running 32C tires! Although it had a good number of cars, I would have preferred to have been on Hwy 203 here.<br />
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In Carnation, I stopped at another bakery for coffee and a pastry. This time, it was a bacon and cheese biscuit, so it probably passed for lunch. I sat outside the restaurant and ate, noticing that the wind had come up a bit and the temperatures felt cooler.<br />
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Leaving Carnation, the route was on more quiet farming roads.<br />
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Soon, I passed by the farm that the town is named after ... or is it that the farm and company is named after the town?<br />
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I considered it ironic that a company whose name is synonymous with powdered milk -- an abomination that I grew up with such that it ruined coffee for me until I was in my 20's -- would be so close to a city that has become synonymous with good coffee. But they also make evaporated milk, and you can't make a real cuban coffee without evaporated milk.<br />
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Just past this farm the route begins a nice 3.5-mile climb up onto another ridge -- Union Hill and Novelty Hill. Again, the roads were wonderfully quiet and most of the cars well-behaved.<br />
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I went by a bunch of huge homes owned by software magnates, and then enjoyed a fun descent off the ridge. Almost immediately, I was in downtown Redmond. The roads were decent, with good bike lanes and very little debris, and soon I was on another series of multi-use paths. For part of this I had to dodge and trackstand folks walking their dogs and babies on a sunny afternoon, and then I was back on the Sammamish River Trail.<br />
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I was hungry for real food by now, having promised myself pizza at a place that I had seen at the start at the Commons, so I put my head down into the now-stiff headwind and motored north. Another cyclist tried to grab my wheel after a mile or so, but I was too hungry to back off and give him a pull.<br />
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Back in Woodinville at the Commons, everyone was out enjoying the sunny day. Fortunately, I didn't have to wait too long at the pizza place and my belly was soon full again. I didn't think to get my card signed until the end, so my time on the route -- while official -- did not look good.<br />
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But in spite of my poor time, I had a good time.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10800093717662010376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-355690962321926614.post-15718311118802221662018-02-11T21:23:00.002-08:002018-02-11T21:23:40.687-08:00(Un)Luck O' the DrawbridgesWe had a nice break in the weather over the weekend, so Friday I skipped out of work about noon and tried to do my February metric. As time was tight, I decided to do a route that started just a few miles from our house in West Seattle -- RUSA permanent 2596: Luck O' the Drawbridges.<br />
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This is a fun route if you want to see some of the sights accessible to cyclists in Seattle. With 2600 feet of climbing, it's tough enough to give you a good workout. And it's a good learning experience for anyone who neglects one of the first rules of randonneuring: Research your route before you ride.<br />
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I failed to do that, which is why I did not officially finish this ride.<br />
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Naturally, I looked at the route map and elevation profile on RideWithGPS.com, and I looked over the cue sheet ... but the cue sheet was three full pages and I kind of got information overload. This looked like a good opportunity to try out my new Wahoo Elemnt Bolt -- which, by the way, I cannot fault for my failure to finish -- and see if it's as good at navigation as people say. I have to give the unit high marks for this, since it kept me on the route all day. But it was my own stupidity, and a little bit of laziness, that did me in.<br />
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The start was an Open Control, so I went to one of my favorite bakeries in West Seattle. I barely got there at the start time because I had to do some work, so only had time to get my card signed and buy a scone. I scarfed the scone while I loaded up the route on the Bolt (very fast load), and then followed the usual route into Seattle proper.<br />
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At this point, much of the route had been multi-use trails or bike lanes. (One complaint about the bike lanes in Seattle -- the ones in industrial areas have a LOT of debris.) The route from here turns onto a really nice trail that winds along the shore and up to the canal. There was an information control at mile 7.7 just after the start of this trail, and then another information control at mile 12 near the end.<br />
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After the trail, you turn on Fremont and cross your first drawbridge before climbing a long hill up into some lovely neighborhoods. After five miles of rolling through these, the route gets on the Interurban Trail for four miles before the third control at mile 21. And this is where I messed up.<br />
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This Starbucks was actually an <i>information </i>control, but I confused it with the control that was at mile 24.8. That Starbucks is a control-control.<br />
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So I stopped at the Starbucks at mile 21, but didn't stop at the Starbucks 3.8 miles later. Instead, I just blithely followed the route down a really fun descent and through a park and some quiet neighborhoods.<br />
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Then I got on the Burke-Gilman Trail and rode along the edge of the lake for another five miles.<br />
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So it was maybe mile 30 when I thought, "I wonder where my next control is." And that's when I realized that my route sheet had fallen out of my pocket (I think on that nice descent). So I stopped and pulled out the brevet card and realized that I had messed up.<br />
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Now, I briefly considered riding six miles back up the trail to the Starbucks that I had missed, but the problem was that wasn't enough. You see, the control that I had treated as a control-control was an information control, so I would need to go back to that one. That meant climbing that hill that had given me such a fun descent. With some effort, I probably could have made it back to the first Starbucks and gotten the information, and then come back to the second Starbucks by the closing time.<br />
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But it would be close. And it might have me finishing after dark.<br />
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And I just didn't want to.<br />
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So I went on with the route, but didn't bother with controls any more. At this point, it was just for fun and to see some stuff, and to test the route out for another day. No pressure.<br />
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We had a bunch of rain, and my weather app kept telling me there were mudslides. Here's one.<br />
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After passing through the university area, the route goes back over the canal on the Montlake Bridge (the second of the drawbridges) and gets on the Lake Washington Loop. This goes through the Washington Park Arboretum and then a bunch of huge houses on Lake Washington Road.<br />
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<br />Rich people have nice boats.<br />
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For some reason, the wind was in my teeth for most of this stretch and I was working hard to keep my speed even close to 15 mph. It was a tough five miles.<br />
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At the end of Lake Washington Road, the route goes into Seward Park. It was really pretty in there on Friday, and since it was so nice there were a lot of folks out walking.<br />
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After the park, the route headed back inland. This stretch was kind of yucky. There was a bike lane, but again you had to really watch out for broken glass and metal and rubber and just general crap. It gets worse on the other side of I-5 and Boeing Field.<br />
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The route passes through South Park ("they killed Kenny!") and then gets on the Duwamish Trail. Since I wasn't riding the route "for real" at this point, I got on W. Marginal Way here instead. The cars have no trouble passing me, and it's easier to go fast on roads than it is on trails. I also skipped the last few miles where the route goes on the Alki Trail and around the peninsula. I've done that part, and daylight was fading.<br />
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I might try this route again, since it's nice to be able to just ride to the start. But after I got home Friday I decided that the next route that I do out here needs to be something out in the country.<br />
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So that was what I did on Sunday. But I'll tell you about that next time.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10800093717662010376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-355690962321926614.post-16645675914936431682018-01-31T18:11:00.001-08:002018-01-31T18:11:31.670-08:00At Least It's Not RainingAs Inigo Montoya said, "Let me explain ... no, there is too much. Let me sum up."<br />
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I got back from Andorra and hobbled around on crutches, then a crutch, and then I just hobbled. They let me get on a bike on Labor Day, and I was able to do my September metric. Since I'd missed July and August, I had to restart my P-12.<br />
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Meanwhile, RandoGirl got a new job. In Seattle. The RandoDaughter, her husband, and their baby agreed to move with us (well, the baby didn't really agree so much as go along with it ... you know how 18-month-olds are). My company said that I could work remote, so we sold our house and moved into a 100-year-old rental in West Seattle. It has "character."<br />
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I've gotten where I feel about houses with "character" the same way that Lou Grant felt about "spunk."<br />
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But then, lately I find that I'm becoming Lou Grant. Particularly from behind.<br />
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Anyway, all of the moving crap made it hard to get out on a bike. As I said earlier, I'd restarted my P-12 string in September, and was just able to get out and ride my Marcy Jo's Metric one last time the first weekend in December. But January had been tough -- I got sick, bikes were on a truck, the weather was not great, and I had a tricky time getting signed up with the Seattle International Randonneurs so that I could do one of their permanents.<br />
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Which is the long way (a very non-Inigo Montoya thing) of saying that it came down to the very last day of January for me to do my monthly metric.<br />
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The morning was chilly and damp, with a stiff breeze out of the south. Or, as they call that kind of day here in Seattle, "January." I had signed up for one of SIR's flattest and simplest (or so I thought) routes -- one mostly on multi-use trails, running from near the University of Washington down to Issaquah and back. It was flat, but trails can get confusing and I managed to pick up one or two "bonus miles."<br />
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But the hardest part was finding a place to park my car. The official start was a QFC grocery store very near the trail, but when I pulled into the lot there were all these signs proclaiming "90-minute maximum parking," with dire portents promised for those who might dare tarry overlong. So I went looking for other parking, just to find that apparently there is a big problem with people abusing parking places in the University area. Eventually, I parked at the Children's Hospital -- no dire signs evident -- and made sure nobody was watching while I unloaded my bike and rode quickly away. By the time I got back to QFC, it was just after 8 am (my scheduled start time), so I bought a coffee from the Starbucks inside, slugged it down, got my card signed, and headed out.<br />
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(Yeah, I forgot to get a receipt. Hopefully the route owner is as understanding as I have often been with people riding my routes.)<br />
<br />
Once on the trail, I was shocked at the number of commuters ... a constant stream of cyclists, most with rain jackets and bags, on all kinds of bikes wearing all kinds of clothes, were heading for the University area. It made me feel a little guilty to be riding just for fun, with no laptop in a pannier.<br />
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The first trail was the Burke Gilman Trail, which really runs from Puget Sound to Bothell. At that point, the route turns on to the Sammamish River Trail.<br />
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The Burke Gilman Trail feels very urban, of course, with lots of road crossings requiring Yields or Stops, but eventually has some incredible views of the top of Lake Washington. On the way down, I didn't get to appreciate these because of the morning mist. But I was able to appreciate some of the huge homes with big boats along the lake.<br />
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The Sammamish River Trail stays close to the Sammamish River (duh), and is very pretty. It was also a little flatter and the pavement was slightly better, although both trails are in much better shape that almost any road in West Seattle.<br />
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The first control was a gas station at Woodinville about 15 miles in. There, I scarfed some Hostess Ding Dongs and did my paperwork (got the receipt this time!) before heading back out to the river trail. The river kept getting smaller and smaller as I approached Redmond, where I managed to get lost a few more times before reaching the second control -- a Peet's Coffee. Since it was warm and I could sit in a comfy chair, I got a latte and a chocolate croissant here. By the time I left, I could feel my toes again.<br />
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The last bit of my southern sojourn was on real roads, which I frankly preferred. Cars were obviously used to bicycles and passed (primarily) with ample space, plus I had a bike lane for the most part. And, since I didn't have to worry about cars crossing the path, I was just able to put my head down and ride.<br />
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This road was also obviously a favorite of SIR, who have adopted a mile of it.<br />
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I got to the turnaround control just after 11 am, which kind of jolted me. Another 20 minutes later and I would have missed the cut-off time ... on a 100K! Knowing that I would need fuel to power through a return ("Fuel?!" you say. "What the heck was that croissant?!") I ordered a Big Mac and fries and allowed my toes a few minutes to thaw again.<br />
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While waiting for my burger, a lady in line asked about my jersey -- an old Gran Fondo long-sleeve jersey from the red-and-black team kit of 2010. She wanted to know if it was for the Gran Fondo that's supposed to be in Whistler this summer. I told her that, no, it was from the Greatest Bike Shop in the World. She asked where I was riding and I told her. She said, "Well, at least it's not raining."<br />
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Which I think is a Seattle kind of response. I'd felt raindrops hitting me -- enough so that I had to wipe them off my glasses -- pretty much the whole day. In Tennessee, that would be rain. But not in Seattle. Here, that's just water molecules falling out of solution. Rain is when you get a factor of at least 1000 that many raindrops, and they have to fall nonstop for a full week, so that the hills collapse and your house is full of mud.<br />
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As I was leaving the control, I was glad that I wasn't going further south, where Cougar, Tiger, and Squak Mountains are. RandoGirl and I had driven up Cougar Mountain in November when we were in Seattle house-hunting, and it's steep. On that day, the roads were covered with snow. As we both said then, "I ain't goin' back to Cougar Mountain."<br />
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By the way, if you'll excuse me for a moment I need to rant. You've got Cougar. You've got Tiger. Why do you name the one between them Squak? You couldn't go Lion Mountain?! Leopard Mountain?! Puma? Jaguar? Cheetah? Geez!<br />
<br />
Sorry.<br />
<br />
Fueled by the Big Mac (see?), I motored back up East Lake Sammamish Parkway and returned to the river trail. My legs were fierce and my stroke beautiful and effortless ... or maybe it was the 10 mph tailwind. Either way, I made it back to the Woodinville gas station in just over an hour, so that I no longer worried about a problematic flat tire forcing me to not finish the ride in time.<br />
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The winds stayed true as I passed through Kenmore (where they make all the dishwashers in the world (not really)), under the baleful gaze of the scion of Crocodile Rock (that's really the name of the store behind this guy ... you think somebody has a bit of an Elton John fetish?). But the winds betrayed me soon after, at first leaving me close-hauled and then kicking me in the teeth. It was only through sheer will and a very real desire to get my ass <i>off of this freakin' saddle</i> that I was able to make it back to the QFC just before 2 pm.<br />
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Once there, I got the best $4.40 (tax included) sandwich that I have ever had in my life.<br />
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Since the guy who fixed the sandwich -- a fellow named Mike who had just moved here from Wisconsin -- had toasted it, I sat in the parking lot and savored every bite. Then I rode my bike back down the trail to the hospital parking lot -- only getting lost one time -- and found that my car had been towed.<br />
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Just kidding. It was there.<br />
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The SIR site currently lists 178 metrics. Although I enjoyed this one (as much as anyone can enjoy a ride when they've barely ridden their bike in six weeks), I'm going to try another one next month. And I promise that I'll write a blog about it.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10800093717662010376noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-355690962321926614.post-52707361316056160052017-07-25T03:00:00.000-07:002017-07-25T08:35:26.376-07:00Wonder Woman and Derr Shnorrer Limp HomeI'm in a white room. A guy is talking, and I reply.<br />
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Now I'm rolling into a box. It's an elevator. Somebody drew a smiley face on the ceiling with a sharpie. I try to tell the guy next to me, but he doesn't get it.<br />
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We roll into another room. RandoGirl is there. Some people move me to the bed, and I think it's going to hurt but it doesn't. Then the people move things around and check things on my arm and put a clear tube around my head that blows dry air into my nostrils. I ask for something to drink, and finally get it.<br />
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The doctor comes by and says reassuring things. I know they're good things because RandoGirl seems happy. He leaves and things slow down and the sun sets and this long, long day ends.<br />
<br />
Friday is less bleary, but not much fun. They didn't need to give me blood during my surgery -- which is good -- but I still lost some and thus am really weak. I lie in bed and try to eat most of the food they bring and drink as much as I can.<br />
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RandoGirl had stayed in the room with me overnight, but since I was forced to lie on my back I did what I usually do when sleeping that way -- snored like a bandsaw. No, wait, that's not enough. How about, snored like a rusty bandsaw driven by a 40-year-old diesel that's cutting hickory ... no, make that green hickory with lots of knots, and maybe even some old nails and barbed wire that got embedded in it.<br />
<br />
Anyway, I snore.<br />
<br />
And RandoGirl was, of course, stressed. Apparently, the head of my femur had been shattered, with bits of bone floating around, and since she was a nurse for years she knew that some of those bits could have floated over to my femoral artery and nicked that. In which case, you would not be reading this blog.<br />
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So, day one after the accident was lots of sleeping for me, and RandoGirl tried to catch up on the sleep that she had missed the night before. Mostly, however, she was working with hotels -- both the one at which we were currently staying and the two that we had booked for later that week, in L'Escala on the Spanish coast and in Barcelona -- and airlines and rental car companies, trying to reconfigure the rest of our stay in Europe. She got some help from the concierge service offered by the credit card company through which we had booked these, but she did most of this on her own. Thus she was, during the course of the next few days, Wonder Woman.<br />
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They gave me a walker on day two, and I was able to take a pseudo-shower. RandoGirl moved out of Hotel Univers, since our stay there ended Friday, and into a hotel less than a kilometer from the hospital. Ana and Juame hated to see her go, and helped as best they could. They even came to see us in the hospital a few days after.<br />
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Good Samaritan Luis also came to visit.<br />
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Meanwhile, over the next five days I slowly got stronger while RandoGirl tweaked our revised travel plans. She bought me some crutches, and we walked a little bit -- going further every day until I was finally able to go out into the courtyard and feel the sun again.<br />
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Otherwise, the hospital stay was probably like most hospital stays here in the USA. The food was different, and I had to use Google Translator to decipher the menu options that they brought me daily -- sometimes more successfully than others. The bed was about as comfortable as most hospital beds are, and I had the usual hassles of people coming in to take my blood pressure and give me a pill and change my IV and rolling noisy carts down the hall in the wee hours. But, in spite of the language barrier, I have to say that the hospital staff was at least as nice as any hospital staff in the USA, and the cleaning crew kept the place pristine. Both RandoGirl and I, who have worked in and around hospitals for many years, considered the care of that hospital to be of the highest quality.<br />
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Finally, the Wednesday after the accident, they released me, and RandoGirl paid the hospital bill with a credit card. The total for almost seven days in the hospital, the surgery, and the ambulance was about 20% of what it would have been in the USA. Andorrans apparently pay their own health bills up front like this, and the government reimburses them fully within a week. Hopefully, our insurance company here will reimburse us at least some of what we paid.<br />
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RandoGirl drove us to the hotel where she had been staying since Friday, and the young lady at the desk helped her park the car. They had moved us to a room that was "handicap accessible," and while it might not meet ADA standards in the USA it was perfectly comfortable for us.<br />
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We stayed in this hotel for two more nights, mostly doing the same things that we had been doing at the hospital. RandoGirl got my prescriptions filled, and she gave me a shot every night. The other prescriptions were for the pain and to help me sleep, but since they made me feel groggy I cut back on the prescribed amounts a bit.<br />
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Meals were usually something that RandoGirl fetched from the local market or a cafe, and twice we had pizza delivered. For breakfast, we would go down to the lobby and eat, finding a spot where I could prop up my leg and enjoy being part of the world again.<br />
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A few times each day, I would go out on the balcony and watch the flurry of downtown Andorra la Vella. There was a traffic circle nearby, and a policewoman there would manage a barrage of cars, trucks, buses, pedestrians, motorcycles, and bicycles coming from 10 different directions. She was a wonder as she scolded, cajoled, entreated, and reprimanded with nothing more than a tweet of her whistle and a broad gesture.<br />
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Just before we left on Friday morning, I watched this fellow loading recyclables into a truck. He is wearing a bicycle helmet here, a solution that I considered safe (since he was hanging off the back of the truck a lot) and comfortable (since the helmet was more vented than a classic "hard hat"). I also like to think that it was probably his helmet that he used for cycling, which was his typical mode of travel. One thing I could tell from watching the world from my balcony was that for many Andorrans the bicycle is their main mode of transportation, although I can honestly say that I did not see any of the cargo bikes that are more common in flatter countries, and very few loaded tourists.<br />
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When the cycling garbageman above loaded a bin full of broken glass into the back of the truck, a bunch spilled onto the pavement. He went to the side of the truck and got a broom and dustpan, and carefully swept up all of the glass. It stuck me as classic Andorra -- people taking the time to keep their country clean and the roads safe.<br />
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RandoGirl had gotten the Jorma bike shop to break down our bicycles and load them into the cases, although they could not ship them back to the states for her. Thus, we had these big cases and our luggage in the back of our rented minivan, and us in the front, when we finally drove back across the Andorran border and into Spain about 10 am Friday.<br />
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Again, the crossing guard barely gave us a nod.<br />
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The drive to Barcelona was a painful three hours, with RandoGirl doing her best to get us there quickly without moving the car around too much on the twisty mountain roads. We stayed that evening at a hotel near the airport. RandoGirl returned the rental car, so we were able to take the hotel shuttle to the terminal the next morning.<br />
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RandoGirl had told Air Canada to supply a wheelchair for me, but the airline did not really do anything until we had checked in. RandoGirl also had to get the bicycles over to the special loading area for larger items, and then we had to endure getting through security with a wheelchair -- a process that basically required me to stand on my crutches while they patted me down, even feeling the bottoms of my feet.<br />
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Eventually, we got on the plane. RandoGirl had arranged for special seats, so we were in the front row of the first class area. This gave me a bit more room for my leg, although not being able to elevate it meant that it was soon throbbing. The pain was not helped by the fact that the eight-hour flight was extended a couple of hours when we taxied out to the runway and waited for another plane ahead of us in line that was having some mechanical issues.<br />
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And so the flight went, distracted by bad in-flight movies and taking occasional breaks where I would go to the bathroom or just stand around a bit in the flight attendants' area, trying to get feeling back to my leg. Never have I been so happy to look out a window and see Canada.<br />
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In Toronto, RandoGirl's arrangements worked a little better. The wheelchair was waiting, and we passed relatively quickly through U.S. Customs (don't ask me how it is that you can re-enter the United States when you're in Canada). The wheelchair attendant started to park us for a while due to some sort of bureaucratic folderol, but RandoGirl took charge of the wheelchair and we rolled away to Air Canada's Maple Leaf Lounge. She had set us up to spend our three-hour layover here, and this respite fortified us sufficiently to complete our hellish journey.<br />
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When the time came, RandoGirl wheeled me to the gate of our last flight. Since this was a smaller plane, I had to climb the steps on my crutches, and once we made it to our relatively small seats I hunkered down for the remaining airborne ordeal. By now my leg was spasming almost incessantly in pain, and I looked out the window for any sign of Nashville. Finally, I noticed that we were descending, then landing, and at last we rolled up to the gate.<br />
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A young man was waiting at the door of the airplane with a wheelchair for me, and I blissfully fell into it. We stopped at the bathroom and he waited while I washed my face and brushed my teeth. This always helps to wake me up -- at this point, we had been on the go for almost 24 hours -- and I felt much better as we entered the terminal.<br />
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Even Wonder Woman needs a hand sometimes, and RandoGirl's friend Deb had come to the airport to save us. She met us at the terminal, helped us gather the luggage, and drove RandoGirl to where we had parked our car 16 days before. Then she helped load the luggage and my sagging corpse into the car, and RandoGirl somehow drove us home.<br />
<h2>
Some Final Thoughts on Andorra</h2>
<div>
In general, although Andorra may be a haven for very fit cyclists, it is not a cycling heaven. Riding there almost always means that you are climbing or you are descending, often in ways that are not really good for training. There are a lot of cyclists on the main roads, but you must be comfortable riding with vehicles (often trucks and buses) going fairly fast on these roads, and the shoulder and edge often have the kind of small glass and retread wire debris that is inevitable. Although the Andorrans do a good job of keeping their roads clean (I never saw trash on the side of the road, and certainly no bits of truck tires or other things that often fall off of a car), they are often under repair; thus, you may lose that little bit of road shoulder from time to time.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
Many of the painful climbing roads are not conducive to cars, and impossible for trucks and buses, so you will have them all to yourself. The views are spectacular as you get higher -- make sure you stop regularly to enjoy them and you will be fine. The descents are obviously tricky, so stop regularly on the way down to take pictures, too.</div>
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<div>
Unlike other countries in Europe, the towns in Andorra don't have as many cafes or bakeries where you can stop for a mid-ride coffee. We have always enjoyed stopping in the piazza of Italian towns for this, but I think that the exigencies of city design in Andorra make piazzas untenable. The food is great, although there are not really many classic Andorran dishes. I recommend the aged beef, which is wonderful with one of the red wines of the Catalan region in Spain. They also like to finish big meals with digestifs.</div>
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<div>
Also like Spain, many Andorrans enjoy "siesta" in the afternoon. Thus, shops will close about 2 pm, and re-open at 5 or 6 pm. You cannot get dinner before 8 pm, and most restaurants really don't get busy until 9 or 10 pm.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
However, don't confuse the language of Andorra -- Catalan -- with Catalonian Spanish. You'll hear someone say "Hola" similar to what you might hear in Spain, but the emphasis is a little stronger on the second syllable. If you respond, "Hola," and then launch into Spanish, very often you will get a blank look -- in my case, that was probably because my Spanish is dusty from lying about unused in my brain for 35 years -- although most Andorrans speak at least a little Spanish and French. Take the time to learn some phrases in Catalan, and try to learn more during your stay.</div>
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Which brings me to the last point: The people of Andorra. Unlike trying to speak French in Paris, if you try to learn some Catalan, most Andorrans will be happy to help you with it. If you ask directions to a store, don't be surprised if they stop what they're doing and walk you there. I never had anybody be rude to me on the street, or pass me too closely when I was on my bicycle, or make me feel in the least bit uncomfortable or un-safe. These are some of the nicest people that I have ever met, and although I did not have exactly the vacation that I would have chosen, I would love visiting this country again.</div>
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Just, maybe, next time staying to the easier roads.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10800093717662010376noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-355690962321926614.post-61699231577495185312017-07-24T05:48:00.000-07:002017-07-24T09:27:26.549-07:00The Worst Bike Ride in AndorraI got up early Thursday morning to find that the temperatures outside felt great, but that RandoGirl's insides did not. She wasn't sure if it was something from last night's dinner or the water that she had gotten from a road-side fountain the day before, but she was having major tummy troubles. I offered to stay with her, but she encouraged me to instead take the car to Sant Julia de Loria and do the two big climbs down that way.<br />
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In hindsight, I should have stayed and played nurse. But I was weak and really wanted to do those climbs, so I went.<br />
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It took me a couple of tries to find a place to park in Sant Julia de Loria, and then I had to stop at the Jorma bike shop there for tubes. They directed me to the closest way to go up the Coll de la Gallina from the store, and soon I was in hard climbing mode.<br />
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After just less than one kilometer, I realized that I had left my water bottles in the car. By the time I rode back to the car, grabbed the bottles, and started the climb again it was after 10 am.<br />
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This route spreads the steep stuff out pretty well, but still averages 8.4% over 12.2K.<br />
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Eventually, the road crosses over to the other side of the ridge, and you can see into Spain.<br />
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About 2K from the top on this route, a dirt road connects that goes into Spain. Just so that I could claim to have ridden my bike into Spain twice, I went down that road for about one kilometer and checked my GPS to make sure that I was over the border. Then I came back to the main road.<br />
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Further up was the remains of this wall. I'm not sure what this wall was for, but they would have had a spectacular view.<br />
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Finally, I got to the top. You can't tell, but I am wearing my Andorra jersey -- nice, huh?<br />
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After taking this picture, I ate a small chocolate croissant that I had wrapped up at breakfast, and then started down. The descent towards Aixovall was just as steep as the climb from Sant Julia de Loria had been. I was riding my brakes most of the way, stopping regularly to ensure that my rims were not overheating.<br />
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There was a cute restaurant here in Canolich, about halfway down from the top on CS-111. I wanted to take RandoGirl here for lunch.<br />
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The other building in Canolich was this church. It looks old, but was actually a reconstruction done in the 1970s.<br />
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From here, the road seemed to straighten out a bit, and I hoped maybe I could stop riding the brakes so much. But as I came up on the next turn, the road dipped down and I saw that there were seams in the pavement that had been repaired ... although not well. In addition, I could tell that the coming switchback was not banked well, and in fact almost dipped towards the outside rather than the inside.<br />
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I grabbed my brakes -- but just a little too hard, and immediately felt the back wheel slide right. I let go of the brakes, but it was too late and the bike was sliding out from underneath me. A thought went through my head: <i>Well, here goes the new jersey</i>.<br />
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Normally, when I crash like this the bike slides and I end up grinding off some shorts and/or jersey -- and a layer or two of skin, depending upon how fast I'm going and whether the pavement is wet. But remember that seam in the pavement? Best I can figure, the back wheel hit one of those seams and stopped sliding, so that the momentum of the bike was transferred from a "slide down the mountain" to more of a "slam the bike down on Robert's left hip" kind of thing.<br />
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Which is how I ended up like this, more or less.<br />
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When I'm lying in the road after a bike crash, the first thing I try to do is get my bike off the road. I had only seen two cars during the entire route after I had left Sant Julia de Loria, but I just think that it's safest not to lie in the middle of any road.<br />
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However, when I tried to pull my left leg off of the bike, I couldn't. The muscles wouldn't move it, and picking it up to drag it really, really, really hurt. So I decided that I was where I was going to be until somebody came along to move me, or a car came along and squished me.<br />
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I was just able to reach the top tube, and could thus drag the handlebar bag up so I could get into it. I then pulled out my cell phone and called RandoGirl. When she answered, I told her where I was and that I had crashed and might have broken something. I then asked her to find out the Andorra equivalent of "911" so that I could get help. She was at a store, and they told her it was "112."<br />
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Calling 112, I got a dispatcher who -- of course -- didn't speak English. We tried to communicate in Spanish, and I was able to tell them that it was a bicycle accident on the Aixovall side of the Coll de la Gallina and that I thought either my leg or pelvis was broken. We were still trying to nail down exactly where I was on this 12 kilometers of road when a car came along.<br />
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I raised my arm to signal the car so he wouldn't run over me, and the driver stopped and got out. His name was Luis, and he had been up in Canolich walking his dogs. He was a retired lawyer from Barcelona, and spoke English ... as well as half a dozen other languages. In other words, the perfect person had come along.<br />
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Luis pulled out his phone and called 211. I was still trying to talk to my dispatcher and explain where I was, but the dispatcher cut me off and said something about the ambulance being on its way, probably because Luis spoke Catalan and knew exactly where we were and had told them not to listen to the idiot American.<br />
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My good samaritan then stayed with me for the half hour that it took for the ambulance to come, talking with me to keep my mind off the pain. We talked about cycling, and how this was a bad corner even for cars, and I felt a little less stupid for having crashed so badly here. I took off my helmet and lay back, using it for a pillow, and then heard loud music because I was lying on my iPod and had turned the volume up full. I pulled the iPod out of my back pocket and turned it off, and then got Luis to take the above picture.<br />
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RandoGirl called back during this to tell me that she was back at the hotel. I told her that an ambulance was coming, and she said that she would meet me at the hospital (Juame from the hotel drove her there -- another good samaritan).<br />
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When the ambulance arrived, Luis and I were able to communicate with them while they disentangled me from my bike and loaded me up. Luis carried my bike to the hospital, and I had the most uncomfortable ride in any vehicle in my life, riding downhill while my leg tried to slide around inside my hip.<br />
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The rest is a blur, probably because things were starting to hurt. RandoGirl was at the ambulance door to the Emergency Room, and a bunch of people took my pulse and blood pressure and put me in a room where they helped me take off my clothes. (Yes, they did not cut them off -- my shorts and jersey survived the entire escapade intact!). Then they rolled me around taking X-rays before finally stowing me in a hospital room. The surgeon came by to tell me that my femur was broken, and that they would need to put in rods and pins ... and maybe a screw and some plates ... I think.<br />
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They wouldn't give me any painkillers, and couldn't give me anything to drink because they needed my stomach to be empty before they did surgery. Since I had eaten that croissant about noon, we were on hold until 8 pm at least. RandoGirl kept me company when she wasn't answering questions from the business office or helping Juame load up my bike to take back to the hotel. Finally, they wheeled me downstairs to surgery and hooked me up to an IV and things got even more blurry.<br />
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My wild ride was over. The unpleasant recovery was about to begin.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10800093717662010376noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-355690962321926614.post-54821613663635598332017-07-23T12:10:00.002-07:002017-07-23T12:10:35.460-07:00The Best Bike Ride in AndorraAs I mentioned in the last blog, Wednesday was the day that everybody but RandoGirl and I were leaving Andorra. Most were going to France -- for a few days in Paris and/or watching a Tour stage -- but some were flying out the next day, back to the states. Mike, Patty, Steve, Joyce, and Karla were <i>sans bicycle </i>now, and so they left that morning after breakfast. Meanwhile, RandoGirl, Connie, Jill, Zita, and I drove our cars over to Massina to ride up to the Port de Cabus.<br />
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After we found a place to park our cars, we biked up CG-4 to Erts and began the 16K ascent. It was early enough that the temperatures were still cool, and for once the grade of the first few kilometers were mild.<br />
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Just before the ski resort Estacio de Pal, some sections kicked up closer to double-digits. The road was very quiet, however, and shady ... plus, after the rides we had done earlier this week, 10% felt almost flat.<br />
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I stopped at the overlook to get a picture of the Storm in a Teacup sculpture. The next few kilometers really were almost flat, so I stopped more times to smell the roses.<br />
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At the top, the road crosses into Spain and becomes dirt. I went down the dirt road far enough to ensure that I could say that I had ridden my bicycle into Spain, just as I had ridden my bicycle into France the day before.<br />
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Most of the cows grazing on the hillside behind me were wearing cowbells -- a surprising cacophony in such a desolate place.<br />
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After everybody reached the top and had spent time enjoying the view, we started back down.<br />
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Along with being the nicest climb of the week, it was also the nicest descent. I barely touched my brakes for the first part, and generally had a blast roaring through sweeping turns and cruising through the little town of Xixerella. We all paused in Erts to regroup.<br />
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Then we rolled back to our cars and loaded up the bikes. On another day, I might've then climbed from Erts to Estacio de Arinsal -- another ski resort.<br />
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But RandoGirl and I were hungry and opted for food, instead.<br />
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When we got back to the hotel, everyone except Connie, Jill, and Zita had checked out and departed for France. We helped the three ladies load up their bikes and wished them safe travels, and then I cleaned RandoGirl's and my bicycles, checking the tires and brakes. RandoGirl and I spent a quiet afternoon before going to the only disappointing restaurant of our trip. During dinner, we planned our ride for the next day -- I would leave early and ride my bike down to Sant Julia de Loria to climb the Collada de la Gallina. RandoGirl would drive down later that morning, and when I finished the Gallina loop we would together climb the hills on the east side of town -- either La Rabassa or La Peguera.<br />
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It was a great plan. I wish that it had worked out.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10800093717662010376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-355690962321926614.post-15946910158802204372017-07-22T15:30:00.001-07:002017-07-22T15:39:13.825-07:00There Should Be a Funky Coll MedinaMonday, our route took us over the Collada de Beixalis, down towards Anyos, then over to Ordino to climb the Coll d'Ordino and descend into Canillo. From there, we would just take the main road back to the hotel in Encamp.<br />
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Juame, from the hotel, had given us a bicycling guide for Andorra, published by the tourism department. It contained a map of the country that you could use to find the prime cycling routes, and then broke down each kilometer of the these routes to show the average grade.<br />
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When we reviewed the profile of the Collada de Beixalis, it became clear that this route would be harder than the previous day's climb. We decided to try anyway, but had just left the hotel when Karla's bike developed a mechanical issue. She, Mike, and Patty decided it was a sign that they should go hiking; the rest of us went on.<br />
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The Collada de Beixalis begins really steep, with one section that averages 12%. I was glad that I had a triple-crank on the Lynskey, but even then had to shift my weight forward to keep the front wheel down without having to stand. After the first couple of kilometers, I decided to stop to take a picture of the folks behind me ... and also to breath.<br />
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Here's Connie and Zita, with Encamp in the background. It was about this point that the road got easier, with most sections under 6%, so we paused a bit to smell the roses.<br />
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Soon, Steve and Joyce came up, accompanied by Jill and Carol.<br />
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Steve and Joyce had been forced to walk a few kilometers. But ultimately, we all made it to the top.<br />
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The descent was a blast, with long straight sections and nicely banked switchbacks, and soon we were all at the bottom. We stopped at a cafe for a coffee and snack, and then went on to Ordino. I'd hoped to find a bakery there for something fresh, but did not see one and so we started up the Coll d'Ordino.<br />
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Here's the view back towards Ordino.<br />
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Zita and I hit the summit about the same time. Here's RandoGirl getting to the top.<br />
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Next came Connie ...<br />
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... and then Jill.<br />
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Steve and Joyce had some cramping issues, and again needed to walk a few kilometers. But eventually, again, we all got there. It was now well after noon, so we soon began heading down.<br />
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I stopped on the way to get a picture of some Andorran art ...<br />
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... and for a picture of Canillo. This city had another one of those sky-car things that would take people to a ski resort on top of a mountain.<br />
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At the bottom, Steve and Joyce could barely stop their tandem. We quickly diagnosed the issue -- their brake pads were all but gone -- and decided that somebody would drive back up to ferry them and the bike to the hotel. CG-3, the road from Canillo to Encamp was a little busy, but it was all downhill so there was no trouble keeping up pretty well with the cars. I must add, however, that the cars on the busier Andorran roads were very well behaved and comfortable with bicycles, and I don't think that I was ever passed in a manner that I would consider aggressive or thoughtless ... unlike what we frequently get in the USA.<br />
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Eventually, we all got back to the hotel and got the bikes put away. It was clear that there would be no more cycling for Steve and Joyce, but Mike and Patty's tandem was also having issues. Bottom line: Andorra may be a good place to ride bikes, but it does not have a lot of tandem-friendly routes. The climbing is just too difficult, and the descending can quickly become treacherous.<br />
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The group went out to Borda Vella again for another excellent dinner that night, and most of the team there decided that the next day would be better for hiking than cycling. Connie, Zita, and I still wanted to ride, however, and we drove north to enjoy two of the more flat routes -- Vall d'Incles and Coma de Ransol.<br />
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Vall d'Incles isn't really one of the main cycling routes, since it's just a short out-and-back through a quiet valley. The three of us rode easily, taking in the scenery.<br />
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At the top of the road, it becomes a hiking path along a cold mountain stream. Connie and Zita took off their shoes and dipped their feet to see just how cold the water was.<br />
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As we headed back out, I told them that they should go ride the Coma de Ransol, but that I was going to continue up the main road to the Port d'Envalira, and then descend into France.<br />
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This route was a long steady climb through the small ski resort towns in the northern part of Andorra, on a road with a good shoulder and thoughtful cars. The grade was relatively mild, but it still took me almost an hour to ride the 15 km to the top.<br />
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I decided that it would be wrong to make Connie and Zita wait around too long for me, so I just went about half a kilometer down the other side so that I could get a picture of France, and then headed back. When I reached the car, they had not returned; thus I went down into Ransol to find a place for us all to eat lunch. When I got back to the car this time they were there, and we all went to the restaurant that I had found.<br />
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During lunch, I told them about not quite getting into France and they immediately volunteered to drive back up to Port d'Envalira so that I could do the last part of my ride. We parked near the above sign and I quickly descended into France.<br />
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There were lots of folks from France loading up their cars with duty-free goods, which is one of the main sources of revenue for Andorra. Just passing through the border town of El Pas de la Casa you could tell this, with buses trucking in shoppers and stores of almost every imaginable type.</div>
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The climb back up was again pretty easy, and less than 5K.<br />
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Zita had taken a nap, and Connie had gone for a little hike. We loaded everything up and headed back to Encamp.<br />
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Since everybody other than RandoGirl and I would be leaving the next day, we went to one last dinner together at Borda del Tremat. The owner, Sonya, was happy to see us again, and we overindulged in almost every way. I had ridden hard that day, and even had some leg cramps during dinner.<br />
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During the past two days, I had feasted on incredible views, arduous climbs, and gleeful descents. The next day, we decided that those of us who still had bicycles would do one last route before folks had to leave. That route turned out to be the best one of the trip.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10800093717662010376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-355690962321926614.post-62983225043942129952017-07-21T16:40:00.001-07:002017-07-21T16:55:07.530-07:00Never Have I Worked So Hard for So Few (Miles)When I first started planning the routes for this vacation, I thought that there might be some short days -- where I rode maybe 40 miles -- and one or two long days with at least 100 kilometers. That was even when I mapped out the routes on Ride With GPS and realized that those 100K days could have over 10,000 feet of climbing.<br />
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"Meh," I said. "I've done <a href="http://randoboy.blogspot.com/2008/09/hardest-ride-in-america.html" target="_blank">200Ks with over 15,000 feet</a>. How hard could these be?"<br />
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Turns out -- pretty hard.<br />
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RandoGirl and I did a little 14-mile out-and-back on the first day, riding up to Els Cortals d'Encamp. This is a ski resort just outside of town, which during the season you can get to via a lift. We went up the hard way.<br />
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All of the Andorran routes had signs like this:<br />
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These were so you know that you were riding a famous cycling route, and also so you knew what the average gradient would be for the next kilometer. This one says the average is 9.4%, which doesn't sound too bad until you remember that it's an "average," which means that there are some parts that are "just" 9% and other parts 9.8%. And a kilometer at 9.8% is about as hard as a kilometer at 10%, and that gets hard ... particularly when the next kilometer averages 9.6%.<br />
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Which is a long way of saying that it took us about a two hours to get to Els Cortalis, particularly since I took a lot of pictures on the way up.<br />
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Here's RandoGirl, with Encamp in the background.<br />
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This remarkable house was built onto a promontory -- great use of nature, plus they had a gorgeous view.<br />
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RandoGirl near the top, smiling like always.<br />
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And we made it! Just as the light rain set in.<br />
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The descent down was fast. RandoGirl had brought her bicycle with disk brakes, and I found myself envying her that, particularly when we got to the steeper stuff near the bottom with the harsh switchbacks.<br />
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Back at the hotel, we got cleaned up, bought provisions, and went to lunch. I then took the car and scouted a route going over the Collada de Beixalis and coming back on the Coll d'Ordino. When I got back, a bunch of our friends had shown up, and we began to partake of the provisions.<br />
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From there, we all stumbled out to dinner at Border del Tremat on a lovely cool evening. The next day everyone wanted to do the same route as RandoGirl and I had done, with some folks coming down a different way. It took a lot of strategerizing, so Connie Weisner and I went up first to scope things out.<br />
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To go back we turned at Llac d'Engolasters and went through the park there to the other side. Then we took a different road down to Engordany, coming back up the main road to Encamp.<br />
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At the hotel everybody was ready to ride. Some drove one of the cars up to the parking lot at Llac d'Engolasters to avoid the steepest parts of the route, while the rest of us rode our bikes up.<br />
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Yeah, that's a tandem. Steve and Joyce Grizzle were hard core, biking the painful first kilometers of the climb. This was one of only two tandems that I saw during our stay in Andorra.<br />
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Zita Smith was a climbing machine all week, pretty much taking QOM points every time.</div>
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And here's the other tandem, with Mike and Patty Wilman, at the penultimate turn before the top.<br />
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Connie rode up with Karla McVey and Jill Flowers.<br />
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After we all got to the top, the motorcyclists who had been sunning themselves in their underwear had to pull up their pants.<br />
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Zita had been enjoying the demonstration of the European dress codes.<br />
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After a brief celebration, we descended to Llac d'Engolasters again. RandoGirl and Steve and Joyce had already seen the sights, so they headed straight down to Encamp the way that we had come up, along with Connie and Karla. The rest of us took the fun descent to Engordany, then came up the way that Connie and I had earlier.<br />
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After getting cleaned up, everyone took a break. Meanwhile, I ran down to Andorra la Vella to try to find a laundromat. Google said that there was one, but I never could find it. While there, however, I went back to the bike store there and bought the next larger jersey. Now I had a memento of the trip ... although it turns out that I got a more interesting one later.<br />
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When I gave up on finding a coin laundromat, I went back to the hotel and asked Anna. She said that there was a place that would do laundry down the road, so I took the clothes there. They had them ready the next day, and only charged me 11 Euros.<br />
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That night we went to dinner at Borda Vella in Encamp. I would show you pictures, but we were very busy eating and drinking and had more digestifs.<br />
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The next day would be our longest ride yet ... but that's for the next blog.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10800093717662010376noreply@blogger.com0