Mozam's Cycling Adventures

Nancy Jean Fish a.k.a. Pansy Palmetto

2011-02-27T07:47:00.000-08:00

Well, after my last entry I decided to rename it and just call it Nancy Jean Fish a.k.a., Pansy Palmetto. Why? Because this is my Blog and I can do whatever the hell I want with it. Besides, who wants to read something with a title like “Fuck Forever” anyway? I guess I felt a little guilty because the last one, and it will stay part of this one, was just a little too… say…close to home, or selfish as I look back on it. I mean I really didn’t even mention why, or who I attributed the entry. So, with this meager attempt, I’ll try and put a few words down so that “Fuck Forever” makes some sense.

Her name was Nancy Jean Fish, or Pansy Palmetto for those so fortunate to call her their friend. Why Pansy Palmetto? Hell, I didn’t even know why until her memorial service. Pansy Palmetto was her Porn name. WTF? Porn Name? Yeah, that one hit me as well, and you wouldn’t even begin to understand why unless you met this full-of-beans icon. Pansy, as I understand it, was the name of her first dog, and Palmetto street was the name of the first street she lived on. Hence, her Porn name. Me, mine would have been Manfred something or another because I can’t remember the first street I lived on. So, Manfred Blank…catchy uh? Sure wouldn't win me any movie parts, now would it (Oh, no pun intended! Hahaha!) Anyway, now you get the idea.

Nancy was the epitome of life as it should be lived, period. There aren’t really any other words to describe her; although, I’ll try to make a worthy attempt here in a few short words. She pushed through every moment with a grace that was full of abandonment. Nothing, and I mean nothing, stood in her way! If you were lucky enough to be standing at the station when her train came whizzin’ by, you were snatched up, loaded, and strapped in before you could utter a word. You were along for the ride baby, and she didn’t care if you liked it or not. I actually think she was like that her entire life by the tall tales and colorful comments from friends and family at her memorial service. My cycling friend Curt once said this about her, “Ya know, there aren’t too many people who are like they appear to be on the internet, but Nancy is exactly like she appears to be on the internet.” As I reflected back on Curt’s comment, I realized more and more that he was spot on. All you have to do is read her blog and you will get a picture-perfect look into the persona of Pansy Palmetto.

I could go on and on about how she affected my life and what I think she left behind, but I’m not gonna do that here. My meager words wouldn’t do justice to Nancy’s own narration of herself…and, if she ever found out that I had even tried, she would have beaten me like the red-headed step child that she always thought I was anyway. I’ll just leave you with her blog, and I will guarantee that once you start reading, you won’t be able to stop. Without question, everyone that I directed to her blog, came back and said, “Who the hell is that woman, she’s hilarious!”

I tried this several times once before but my fingers remained motionless…the cursor flashed in a white sea of emptiness…I walked away. I guess now that the words have been said, the slideshows played, and sympathies passed along, I could finally put a few things down on this blog that would help me move on.

I had a co-worker tell me once, “Mozam, love them while they are here, ‘cause once they are gone, it is forever.” Well, I guess that is true in one sense of the word, but I rationalized his statement, thinking that you can always have their memory, right? I guess it is the finality of it all that fucks with your head more than anything. To be honest, I hate these kind of things because it just plain hurts. A bit selfish I know, but it just hurts.

I’ve had to say goodbye to a few friends who one day were here, and in the next moment, splattered their entire existence across a landscape while preparing to defend the foreign policies of this great land. The finality of watching their family receive the flag that once draped over their casket, kicked me right up side the head, and it hurt. It’s the final thought that remains: the flag will be placed in a case, along with medals of service, on a mantle of honor – a final resting place – that stuns you.

Walking past the pictures, smiling and occasionally laughing at the captured moments in time, I stood there admiring the turquoise boots, helmet, and jacket. Somehow, I suddenly realized that I would probably never see these again…so I moved on and smiled. So…it is true: once they are gone, it is forever. But, and there is always a but! I’ll take the memories and FUCK forever…I choose to put off the finality of the moment until the end.

Let's Change "DNF" to "Yeah-But"

2010-10-06T16:20:00.001-07:00

DNF. Those are three letters that make most ultra-cyclists cringe, well they make me cringe anyway. Did Not Finish: always bothers me to be sure, although I’m not exactly sure why. DNF is that thought that hides in the back of the mind and creeps to the forefront as the miles pass. “God, I feel like shit, I sure hope I can finish this thing…” I was thinking that we should ban the acronym from our cycling thought patterns and substitute, “Yeah-But” instead. Why? DNF is too much like death, it permeates the mind with the thought of a finale with no meaning. Kind of like the end of a person’s life where no one remembers the person’s journey.

My view of ultra-cycling has always been to finish the ride, and luckily, I have finished everyone of my attempts except one…well two, if you count the one I did not pay for. I say, “finish the ride” because most of us mere mortals participate in these things for the adventure and not the competition per se. There are a few who have either the natural ability or unlimited time to train for competition; I have neither, so I opt for the adventure and a little inward self-competition.

Before exploring “Yeah-But”, let’s take a deeper look at DNF for a second. Here’s my take on why DNF is so daunting and hard to deal with. I remember way back as a kid I went to see the movie “Patton.” I remember his speech to the troops before going into battle, and I remember one portion of that speech in particular. The character, General George Patton said, “…Americans love a winner, and will not tolerate a loser…” He went on and on about the “fastest runner”, “highest jumper”, etc, etc…, that and host of other shit I can’t remember. But, that particular part of his speech always stuck in my brain for some odd reason. So, I guess it is that “American” ethic thing that drives us to not DNF.

Perhaps part of the DNF aversion can be attributed to the way we were raised. “You better finish that meal, there are starving children in Africa that would love that food, ya know!” Or perhaps, “you have to finish your homework before you can go out and play.” Then there was one of my favorites, “Don’t start something you can’t finish!” What the fuck was that supposed to mean anyway? If I didn’t finish peeing in the toilet, did that make me a failure of some sort, or a loser who Americans won’t tolerate? Well, having said all of that, I think you get my point. Most people don’t want the stigma of DNF on them: a badge of “L” for loser, or “F” for failure as it were.

Oh, one other thing about DNF and then we’ll move on to Yeah-But. Ever notice how people react when you tell them that you “lost”, or notice their reaction when you tell them you DNF’d? It is one of those somewhat false-empathetic responses, their eyes shift slightly away from looking at you and they say something like: “oh, you’ll do a lot better next time…maybe you need to train harder”, or, “that’s too bad man, what happened to you out there?” Followed shortly thereafter, by a complete change in subject. Again, this is only my observation. I’m sure someone will get their panties in a wad and say something like, “hey not everybody is like that.” Well, sure…no shit Sherlock. So, ok, let’s move onto Yeah-But.

I really like “Yeah-But” much better than “DNF”, or Did Not Finish. Why? Say it to yourself, “yeah-but.” What goes through your mind? Aaaah, there is more to the story right? There is a tale to be told. The thought, “tell me more” comes to the forefront right? The “yeah” part acknowledges the finality of “DNF”, but the “but” part says: there is a story here that needs to be told. Peoples’ attention is focused on the explanation, and the vivid storyboard formed by the words that describe the adventure, vice the finality of the moment.

“Yeah-but” also stymies the quick branding of one as a, “loser or failure.” Think about it for a second. If you want to hear more about the adventure, you are much less likely to jump to an immediate opinion. Something like this, “yeah it really sucked out there and I didn’t finish, but I had the best ride of my life…my legs were strong for the first 100 miles, my nutrition was spot on; and you should have seen how beautiful it was out there, it was like riding through Western Europe in the spring…flowers blooming…the air was fresh and clean…sun warming my face…totally awesome dude, you shoulda been there!” So whatya say?, let’s change “DNF” to “Yeah-But.”

A few Yeah-Buts:

Death Valley Double Attempt, 2003

Little Miss Sunshine's Fixed Gear 508 Attempt

Nightmare to Remember

One of my personal favs:

“It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood, who strives valiantly; who errs and comes short again and again; because there is not effort without error and shortcomings; but who does actually strive to do the deed; who knows the great enthusiasm, the great devotion, who spends himself in a worthy cause, who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement and who at the worst, if he fails, at least he fails while daring greatly. So that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat.” Theodore Roosevelt.

San Diego "Almost" Century

2010-05-26T05:21:00.000-07:00

Aaaah San Diego. What a place. Sunshine, tons of beach, and lots of places to cycle. We, Miz Bobbie and I, decided to join the cycling fun down here by participating in the San Diego Century. I had already heard about this ride, but didn’t know too many details before plunking down the entry fees. The website did a pretty good job of letting me know what to expect, but I must say, I was a little surprised at the level of difficulty we experienced.

First off, great organization! We waddled our way through the registration process without a hitch, collected our packets and were on our way within a few minutes. The only snag was the endless waiver paperwork required. It appears that California lawyers are certainly secure in their employment because not only did we have to fill out waiver paperwork for the event organizers, we were required to fill out waiver paperwork for the county of San Diego and surrounding areas. Geez, does anybody do anything without lawyers anymore? I know, that was a dumb question.

We had a great “warm up” ride on Friday before the event cruising through Oceanside and Carlsbad beach venues and neighborhoods. Exploring by bicycle has to be the greatest way to see things. You can stop when you want, go where want, and take as long as you want. And…you can go places that most cars can’t go…what a treat! The weather here was just awesome as well. Partly cloudy skies, light winds, and temps in the upper 60’s to low 70’s. So, we were hoping for the same on event day.

I’m the early riser in the family while Miz Bobbie prefers to take the long route when waking up in the morning. I figured if we get up by 0530, we could hop in the car and be ready to roll by 0700, our planned departure time. As expected the weather was cloudy and cool with a slight sea breeze; standard for this area and time of the year. We actually get ready and roll out uneventfully by 0710. I say uneventfully because this event like most others I’ve attended let’s people roll out during a time window. Frankly, I kind of miss the mass starts because of all the excitement that seems to be generated from the synergy of everyone massing together at once. I guess it’s the lawyers again, who knows.

The first part of the ride covers a lot of east San Diego back country giving way to tree covered rolling roads that are lightly travelled, well at least at this time of morning. Some smartass and two of his buddies roll up beside us and say, “hey, when is the rain supposed to start?” Shit-eatin’ grin accompanies the rhetorical question. Well, Miz Bobbie, being who she is says, “Rain? What rain?” Smartass and his two buddies just roll ahead with shit-eaten’ grins on their faces. Me, my thought was: “assholes.” I assuage Miz Bobbie’s rain fears by assuring her that there is no rain in the forecast. She says, “well if it rains, I’m done…get me cab!”

I won’t bore you with a detailed description of every food product served at the rest stops but they did have: peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, Gatorade, trail-mix, an assortment of energy bars, pretzels, bananas, and water! Let’s not forget about the water. Oh and one interesting common theme at each rest stop: they were all in church parking lots — Church of God, Church of the Nativity, Crosspointe Baptist Church, and Church of the Nativity again. For awhile, I was expecting the Pope, or at least some Bishop clad in a red robe to come over and flip holy water on us from a stick or something. I didn’t know if the volunteers were all church members, so I made sure I didn’t ask someone to: “hey, cut me a piece of that fuckin’ banana will ya?”

If you divide this ride into quarters, I’d have to say that the first quarter and last quarter are more suburban to rural riding; whereas, the middle two quarters are mostly suburban with a little urban thrown in. What that translates into is a whole lot of stoplights, and I mean a whole lot. I must have unclipped a thousand times on this ride. I didn’t keep track of how long we waited for each light to change, but I can say this, it was a butt load. I found all this rather annoying, but overall the scenery, and just being California in general, made up for it.

I’m not big on route markings because some route organizers mark the pavement with spray paint and over the years, this stuff just doesn’t seem to go away. In fact, I’ve found myself on several occasions following route markings from previous year’s rides, or some other ride using a similar route. So, normally I only use the route slip for navigation to avoid this kind of problem. On this ride, the ride organizers were a bit clever in their marking. They used these triangle stanchions with large yellow arrows pointing to the correct turn direction. So, I thought, “hey, I’ll just put this route slip in my pocket ‘cause I don’t really need it with all these cool direction arrows.” Mistake number one: You see, there was no arrow pointing to the 67 mile turn off, so we ended up on the 100 mile route for about 15 miles before realizing it. As we climbed hill after hill heading east, I finally realized something was up. So, I sprinted ahead to the guy in front of us and asked, “hey man are you on the 100 mile route, or 67 mile route?” He said, “I’m on the 100 miler and the turnaround is just up ahead.” Me: “shit!” Him: “well, you might as well commit to the 100 miler ‘cause you are just about at the turnaround.” Mistake number two: telling Miz Bobbie we were on the wrong route. Ooops. She was not happy as her lower back was giving her fits all morning. Fortunately for us, however, it was all downhill back to the 67 mile turn off.

Rolling out the last 20 miles or so, Miz Bobbie is pretty well spent and in a lot of lower back pain, so her fun meter was pegged, and she was not having a particularly good time. To make things worse, the wind started picking up and was in our face. She kept dropping off my wheel so I slowed down to let her catch up. As she did so, I turned around and shouted, “Can you stay on my wheel?” Well, she interprets my loud voice as yelling and only hears: “…stay on my wheel.” Mistake number three. All mayhem ensues and she starts a female tirade that would rival any major onslaught throughout history. “Stop yelling at me! Just get out of here! Leave me alone…I’ll ride my own pace…and find my own way back!!” Me, I’m totally confused. I try to calm her down and convince her that I wasn’t yelling and all I was doing was asking her a question. Silence… All you can hear now is the wind.

We finally hit the beach and the venue is just awesome. I guess Miz Bobbie is enjoying things now because she’s talking to me again. We make the turn into Cardiff by the Sea and see a huge hill in front of us. Oh shit. Miz Bobbie says to me, “what fucking moron put a hill like that at the end of a ride like this?” Well, we see one of those huge turn arrows up ahead and luckily it is only halfway up the hill, so life wasn’t quite as bad we thought. It is a mile to go, we have a tailwind and flat it’s as a board, so I put Miz Bobbie on point and follow her wheel all the way in. She’s happy and I finally do something right today.

Dante's View - Redefining Epic

2010-04-16T16:36:00.000-07:00

The word “Epic” is probably a bit overused to describe the experience of completing a challenging bike ride. But, having said that, I think I’ll go ahead and use the word to describe our century-plus ride to Dante’s View in Death Valley recently because it fits.

I tried once before to finish this ride, and as I look back on it now with a critical eye, I probably wouldn’t have finished it anyway even if I had kept going, as I had left everything “out there” prior the epic portion, the last 13 miles. So not wanting to “DNF” this time around, I set out to conquer this monster once and for all. Actually, the first 100 miles doesn’t require a herculean effort, it’s the last 13 that jumps up and hops on your back like a 500 pound gorilla.

We always seem to start these events early in the morning when it is cold outside. This day was no exception. However, the difference this time was that we started in 40 degree weather and not 20 degree weather, as we have done on previous occasions. Sheer genius on our parts!

The fast guys left us “seasoned” veterans behind on the first climb, much to my delight personally, as I was not looking forward to a slug-fest this early on. I did that on my first attempt and that’s probably the reason I never made it all the way up to the summit at Dante’s View. So, up we went to the top of our first challenge for the day: Mt. Potosi, a ten mile grind that basically got steeper with every mile.

The art of climbing is kind of, “The search for the Holy Grail”, in my mind. There is no making it look easy, or “dancing on the pedals” as some describe it. Climbing mountains is just plain hard work and your search for the perfect “technique” changes every time. There are some things you can always count on, however. Your breathing starts to become rapid, you can feel your heart beating faster and harder; you start to sweat no matter how cool it gets on the way up; and if you are lucky like me, you can feel the sweat working its way down the crack of your ass! That nice rhythmic song playing so joyfully in your head turns into four-letter words repeating with every pedal stroke. The key, I have found, boils down to one thing: focus. Just focus and get into a pedaling rhythm and stay there, to get there. Sounds pretty simple, right?

Road Angel Jen and Driver Shortbus

Our gracious ride hosts, Jen and Paul (a.k.a. Shortbus, or Salty) met us at the top with a surprising, and most welcome assortment of refreshments. It’s great to have cycling friends who don’t mind giving up their whole day to support everyone else. Thanks guys! You where true “road angels!” Exchanging pleasantries and downing a few refreshments, we pressed ahead to our next destination: Pahrump, Nevada. NDOT was even nice enough to have paved our way with a brand spankin-new shoulder along Hwy 160—those gambling taxes payoff now and again! This stretch was an exhilarating downhill pleasure and I think the slowest speed I saw for the next 10-15 miles was 28 mph!--definitely payback for all the expended effort getting up and over Potosí.

The Road to Pahrump

Pahrump , Nevada…let’s see…the most awesome town in America if you are into brothels, gambling, and dirt, lots and lots of dirt! That’s really all I can say about it. If it weren’t the only way to Death Valley from Vegas, I probably wouldn’t have gone there. You just gotta see it, to believe it!

Kinda says it all, doesn't it?

Leaving Pahrump and heading west is like riding to the coast of California (without the lush, green countryside), then riding straight out to sea, except there is no water, only this barren flatland that is, or once was, a vast sea bed--a rather eerie experience, indeed. Luckily, on this day, very little wind accompanied us to Pahrump and beyond. I say lucky because when the wind blows out here, there is nothing to stop it, slow it down, or divert its path. When Mr. Wind finds his fancy to accompany you on your ride, he can be your best friend or your most hated enemy, and my experience has been that he is your most hated enemy 8 out of 10 times, especially if you choose a southwesterly path.

Our penultimate rest stop of the day occurred at Death Valley Junction, famously known as it houses the world-renown Armargosa Springs Opera House and Hotel. Check it out, it has a pretty interesting history. Jen and Shortbus were waiting off the side of the road with another incredible assortment of refreshments. Of which, we eagerly took part. At this point, it is a 1% - 2% climb for about 10 miles, or so, to the beginning of the “epic” part.

Seasoned Veteran: Dr. Dog

We were teased by a bomber downhill run to the left turn that takes you up to Dante’s View. Remember what I said about Mr. Wind? Well, he decided to join us at this point. And like I said, he decided to take us on as a dead-in-the-face headwind. How nice. Making the left turn and starting the climb we were greeted by the standard, “Dante’s View 13 miles” sign and about a half-mile later we were greeted with another sign: “Last one-quarter mile 15%.” Nice again! Us seasoned veterans vowed to stay together for the climb but as fate would have it, we separated a bit and fell into our own rhythm. About 5 miles of the last 13 is anywhere from 3% - 6%, not bad. What made it difficult on this day was Mr. Wind. He was just plain annoying! There’s just something really annoying about hearing the wind whip through you helmet for 2 solid hours.

Halfway up the grade changes to 8% - 10%, and in some spots reaches 12% as the road meanders and cuts its way through the mountain. This is the epic part. Epic because we were already 105+ miles into the ride and we were being all we could be at 6-7 mph going uphill into a headwind. I had experienced this part before from the window of a SAG vehicle, but I had no idea how hard this climb would be from the seat of a bicycle. Out of gears and short on energy, I stomped as best I could in my 36 x 27. I kept thinking: “You should have gone with the 34 x 27, you dumb shit!”

The Sign Didn't Lie!

The epic of the epic came when I climbed up out of the road cut-out and made the turn towards the summit. As I approached the first of many turns, I heard a cowbell and people shouting something at the top. It was all I could do to hear them above the sound of my panting and the whipping noise of the wind. Looking to my right and seeing nothing but rocks and dirt, I raised my head up, looked at the tiny dots that were people peering down at me, and said to myself, “oh shit!” Yep, it’s a fucking wall and it’s a steep one! Rounding the first turn, I said to myself in a half-assed attempt at thinking positive, “Well, at least I have a tailwind now. Bully!”

The really steep bits of these meandering climbs are always in the turns, so I decided to attack those while standing and then try to recover on the straight stretches. That worked pretty well until I got to the last quarter mile. My ass never touched the saddle for the rest of the climb. The cowbell got louder and louder so I knew I was getting close. The last turn into the parking lot of the summit was absolute heaven and there was an angel walking towards me with a beer! That was the best beer I’ve ever had.

Click here for the stats.

Fast Guys on the left, seasoned Veterans on the right

We Plan Fun Rides and then We Do Them

2010-03-24T16:16:00.000-07:00

Our new slogan, "We plan fun rides and then do them" is most apropos for our latest bicycle excursion. I say "our" because I include myself in this little merry band of adventurous cycling friends. I actually didn't come up with the slogan, I just stole it for the title of this blog entry. I have to give the credit to Cynthia, or Cyn, as she is known to her friends. Frankly, it all fits with Cyn because she can find the fun in just about any bike ride. As a case in point, this ride was formally known as the "Nipton Loop", named primarily for the middle point of the ride, Nipton California, which oh by the way, is a little oasis hole-in-the-ground smack dab in the middle of the Mojave preserve. If you ever wondered where the hell "the middle of nowhere" is, it is Nipton, California. Cyn renamed the ride "The Mad Creek" ride. You see we're gonna stop at the 100 mile point and have Gyros at the Mad Creek restaurant in Stateline, Nevada: Yum, Yum! Well, as it turned out, they were in fact, "yum, yum!"

"The Kid"

The one thing that I have learned about living here is the indisputable fact that one can never count on the actual weather being anything like what is forecast. Usually this time of year brings pleasant temperatures, clear skies, and little, to no wind. What we've had lately has been an extraordinary mixture of: cold temperatures, rain, and bizarre, strong winds. So, when the forecast called for a reeeeeeeally nice day, we, or I especially, showed a bit of skepticism. As things turned out though, the day started a bit on the nipply side, but ended quite nicely: temps in the 70's, clear with some high cloud, and very little wind.a very nice bonus.

The Downhill run into Nipton

I showed up first at Saxby's followed shortly thereafter by a guy named Stephen. I noticed he was quite young (22 to be exact) and was sporting one of the local race kits. My first thought was, "great, a hammerhead, this is gonna be fun." Stephen voiced his excitement to me that this, "is the longest ride I've ever done." Well, after that statement some of my fears abated but not all. Tracy rolls up, followed by Al and Shelly, who was then followed by Loon, aka Scott. Just a little about Scott here. This guy is a true locomotive on a bicycle. He is the former Canadian Time Trial Champion, Furnace Creek 508 Veteran (several times), RAAM (Race Across America) Veteran, HooDoo 500 veteran, and all around way-strong dude on a bicycle. As things go, Scott is a true gentlemen on a bike, but if you throw down the hammer, you better be able to pick it back up again, because Scott will give you everything you ask for and more, that's for sure. As we all commented on the ride ahead and the expected weather, some of us peeled off few layers as it was agreed that we were a bit "over" dressed given the day's forecast. Turns out that I sure could have used that vest for an hour or so...damn it was cold!

Scott a.k.a. "Loon"

We blasted (literally) out of the parking lot about 15 minutes late and my first thought was, "man I sure hope we don't try to keep up this pace for the whole ride, after all, we still have 126 more miles to ride." We let the ponies run as we took the turnoff down towards Searchlight on a bomber downhill of about 5 miles. As predicted, the inversion layer caught us and trapped all that wonderful "cold" air near the surface of a try lake bed that joins the highway. Loon and Stephen had long left us by this point but we finally come upon them trying to fix a "tubular clincher." For those not in the know, a tubular clincher is actually a tube and a tire, all in one. If you can't repair it, you are screwed. Many attempts by Scott to pump air into this thing finally resulted in success, and we at long last get going. Then "bang!" our second flat of the day. Not even 20 miles in and Cyn blows a tire big time. That's two! I look at my watch and think, "This is gonna be a long day." Well, we get that fixed and about 3 miles later on a small but rather long climb, I hear "twaaaaang" look down, and see Scott's rear wheel wobbling severely from side to side. I get Scott's attention, we stop, and both say, "oh shit." Turns out he popped a spoke, and on further determination we discover that he actually cracked the rim! Scott decides he is a "mort", calls momma for a ride and sends me on my way to catch the group. I finally catch up and we cruise uneventfully into the booming metropolis of Searchlight, Nevada. On the way in, I say to the group, "you watch, Scott (Loon) will get a new wheel and catch us before we get to Nipton!" Looks of disbelief that say, "ya think? Na no way!"

Shellie chows down on her Nipton pickle

Searchlight, Nevada is one of those, "ya gotta be shittin' me" kind of places. I've been there twice, both times on a bicycle, and my reaction is always the same. It is a giant freakin' trailer park with a fast food restaurant or two stuck in the middle of the treeless desert. I guess they used to mine stuff there way back when because there are all these abandon mine shafts "eye-sores" all over the place, accompanied by an endless array of trailer homes, and not the nice ones either. We all grabbed some liquids and fuel from the local "stop and rob", shoot a few hero photos and discover, you guessed it, another flat. Seems that Shellie's rear tire shit-the-bed slowly on the way in, and finally died peacefully while we were all rejuvenating. Al does his now famous, "I can name that tire change in 30 seconds" routine and we leave Searchlight behind or so we thought. You see, Shellie has some of those 3-gazillion dollar, super deep-dish carbon wheels and her tire decided it didn't like the way it was situated on the rim. Looking like a rugby scrum we all lean over the wheel saying, "oh my, what's wrong. I can't find the problem." Well, we finally determine that the tube inside the tire is not "seated" properly around the rim. We then proceeded to prove ourselves right by going through 3-4 CO2 cartridges in attempt to fix the problem. Somebody says, "hey how many bike shops are there in Searchlight?" Cause we all know there aren't any in Nipton! (looks of impending doom shroud our faces) Well you guessed it, there are ZERO bike shops anywhere on our route! The closest one is in Boulder City, 50 miles back where we just came from. Great Boy Scouts all of us, eh? So, after getting all this mess sorted out, Shellie's tire fixed, etcetera, we take stock of our repair supplies and decide to continue the adventure. Swords drawn, we mount our steeds and shout, "On to Nipton!"

On the road to Nipton, California!

Stephen, appropriately nicknamed by the group as: "The Kid" decides he is gonna try drafting a semi-trailer that has somehow managed the turn towards Nipton at the same time as our group. So, off goes The Kid down the long ribbon of road to the horizon. About ten minutes later, we finally catch up to him, regroup and proceed westward. The Kid, looking like a worn out Cheetah who just missed his prey, leads us on what seems like the Battan Death March to our much awaited descent into Nipton. Since there's not much to look at except mangled asphalt, Joshua trees, and dirt, you just lose yourself in your own thoughts, put your head down and grind your way onward. To the contrary, the descent into Nipton is quite a rush really. I'm not sure how long it is, but hauling ass at 30+ miles an hour seemed to go on for a really long time. I thought to myself, "man there sure is a whole lot of nothin' out here!" One can literally see the entire Mojave preserve, bordering mountain ranges on all horizons, as well as the two tiny dots that are casinos forming an oasis at the California/Nevada border. We aren't in Nipton but for a few minutes when, you guessed it, Loon rolls in. I said, "see I told you guys he'd be here!" Looks of disbelief all around. Nipton isn't much to write home about, but it does provide a nice respite after 67 miles, and the "stop and rob" has these really huge pickles you can buy (that is if you are into eating pickles on a bike ride). Just like in an movie or something, you pull one out of this really big jar and eat it! Nipton also marks the "half-way" point of the ride so that fact always is a morale booster on these long rides. On just about all of our stops, we all seemed to leave together, but inevitably the major group fractions into a few smaller ones. This one being no exception, Loon and The Kid took off on a battle for "King of the Mountains" points while the rest of us settled into a nice semi-aerobic climb to our final turn towards Vegas.

Yeah, I sure could use some of that lottery money!

Several miles and minutes later, we met Loon who was waiting patiently for us at the top of the climb...sans The Kid. This was really a pretty cool spot. To the east you could see the expanse of the terrain just covered, cut only by a small ribbon of road you were just on. To the north was
I-15 leading to first, Stateline, Nevada then followed by Jean, Nevada, both large gambling oasis out in the middle of nowhere. Turning north on I-15 towards Stateline was a lot like bombing down a toboggan run on a bicycle. What was equally amazing was the fact that you were going so fast that the cars passing you to your left didn't look like they were going that much faster than you!

The View from Nowhere, actually I-15 and Nipton Exit looking towards Vegas.

Aaaaaah finally, the Mad Creek restaurant! Man were we hungry, especially me. This place was amazing. You can get just about any kind of Gyro at this place. I settled on the Veggie burger because a big 'ole hunk of meat in any form just didn't sound all that good to me. Cynthia and the rest of thegroup chowed down like big dogs, especially Loon...man can that guy eat! What also amazed us when traveling down I-15 on a Sunday was how many Californians there were heading south back to LA. The parking lots at Stateline were jammed, and south bound I-15 was moving at a snail's pace.It's a damned good thing we were on bicycles heading north.

Cyn at the Mad Creek

The rest of the ride was rather uneventful with one exception. The Kid decided to "attack" the peloton at the 110 mile point! He looked back kinda like Lance Armstong, except the kid had one of those, "I dare ya" smiles on his face and just takes off. Remember what I said about Loon and the hammer earlier? Loon looked at me, I shook my head and off we went to the races! We got into this friggin' rolling paceline at 30 miles an hour into the wind for the next 15 minutes. Al and I pedaled our asses off just to stay on Loon's wheel. I'm muttered cuss words under my breath the whole way back and kept thinking, "can't we just end this ride with a little civility...Nooooo...we have to race...shit!

Single Speed...Anyone, Anyone?

2009-11-02T12:19:00.000-08:00

My Primary SS Steed

This blog thing has suffered from serious neglect lately, and as a result is atrophying at a rather rapid rate. So, that being the case, I thought I'd inject a little life into this thing by writing about my current cycling passion: single-speed riding. A local bike shop owner who I've done business with in the past got a whole bunch of fixed gear bikes in inventory and was anxious to show me how great he thought they were. "Here" he says, "Take this one out in the parking lot and give it a spin." So, what does a bike enthusiast as myself do with such a suggestion? Why, take the bike out in the parking lot and give it a spin. He also said, in kind of muffled warning sort of way: "Be careful. Mounting a fixed gear is a bit trickier than mounting a regular geared bike." Paying half-attention to his warning, I attempted to mount this bucking beast in true geared-bike fashion. I soon found myself being launched over the bars and careening towards the not-so-soft asphalt. That was it for me, and I said, "no thanks, not for me. I'll stick with a geared bike!" He said, "well, ya know you can flip-flop the hub and ride it single speed." Unconvinced, I ignored his statement and politely put the bike back up on the rack thinking, "nope...not for me." Well, here I am about 2 years later with two single speeds in the garage soon to be joined by a third. I'm not sure what got me into this: boredom with no project to tinker with, or just plain curiosity as to whether or not I'd really like riding with just one gear. After all, it did seem rather odd that anyone with any sense, would want more gears than just one. Well, one day while I was just sitting there in my garage contemplating my navel and drinking a glass of wine (my favorite mind stimulus drink), I thought to myself, "self, I bet I can turn that old Trek 2300 into a single-speed bike." With some net surfing and further sleuthing, I came up with the perfect, not too expensive, morphization. Is that a word? Anyway, I bought a single speed conversion kit from Performance, dug out an old set of wheels, purchased and mounted some of those "old style" brake levers and whoola! A single speed mut is born!

The Next Member of the Stable

I had to draw upon some Mozam engineering here to add the additional water bottle cage.

Added the "Detours" bag for the long rides. I will be doing the Solvang Double this spring on one of the Single Speeds
While I've never been too "geeky" about things in general (at least I don't think so), I was curious about what all these guys were talking about when you get a bunch of single-speed and fixed-gear riders together. The inevitable first question one asks when realizing there is a true bond here is: "hey, what gearing are you running on that thing?" The usual response consists of the size of the front chainring followed by the size of the rear sprocket (both are referred to in numbers of teeth). Goes something like this: "I'm runnin' a 48 by 18." "Cool!" is usually the other response, followed by: "yeah, that gives me a perfect 71 gear inches." Now depending how geekinzoid you really wanna get, you would understand perfectly what the last part of that conversation really means. If you are just a bike rider, like I am, you just say "cool" like you really know what 71 gear inches really means. After all, you don't want let anyone know that your geekinzoid factor isn't what it's supposed to be, right? Actually, I was curious what all this meant and found out that there are really three ways to address these various combinations: Gain Ratio, Gear Inches, and Meters...yep, meters. I won't go into too much detail but here, at least, is a definition of gear inches. If you want more details, I highly recommend going to Sheldon Brown's bike site for a little light reading. I'll paraphrase about gear inches from him here:

Gear Inches: The simplest system in common use is the "gear inch" system. It is very easy to calculate: the diameter of the drive wheel, times the size of the front sprocket divided by the size of the rear sprocket. This gives a convenient two- or three-digit number. The examples, 46 by 16 and 52 by 12 are all around 74-75 inches. The lowest gear on most mountain bikes is around 22-26 inches.

Surly, manufacturers of Single Speed/Fixed frames also has a good article on the various nuances of single speed/fixed gear riding here.

Here Are A Few Pics of the "Mutt"

A Close-up of the Chain Tensioner. You can use any regular wheel. You just need to add the spacers to make the chainline work

Now, what do all these numbers really mean. Well, I translate them into "feel." Yep, feel. Basically, the smaller numbers make it easier to pedal and the higher numbers make it harder. What is the "nirvana" number, you ask? Well, it depends. It depends on what is comfortable for you. For me, it is any combination of gears that gives me anywhere from 68 to 72 gear inches. So, guess what? The more bikes you have, the more combinations you have available! And that...makes me happy. For example, I use the old Trek 2300 for commuting and it also weighs in a bit heavier than the other two bikes. Besides that, I load it down with "stuff." So, I run a 44 by 17 on that one, translating into 68 gear inches. On the Leader bike, I'm running 46 by 17 giving me a comfortable 71.1 gear inches. I can spin the Leader out at about 28 mph. On the new Single Speed, I'm gonna run 48 by 18 as a trial. That gives me about 70.1 gear inches and I think that combo will be good for Centuries or Double Centuries that require a bit of climbing.

So, am I hooked on Single Speed riding? Most assuredly yes! Will I ever go fixed, Nope. I like coasting down hills too much. Single speed is really the "bomb." So, come on over to the dark side and join us!

A Recovery Ride—And Retrospective

2009-08-08T09:47:00.000-07:00

The Copper Triangle left both of us a bit trashed. The day after the ride was the worst we both felt after a cycling event in some time—legs of cement and that no energy feeling. There literally wasn’t any strength left in the legs, especially for hiking or climbing. So, we opted for a nice relaxing day of exploring Frisco and Breckenridge. The next day, however, things were back to normal and we both felt surprisingly well. We decided to have a nice leisurely breakfast in Copper Village, let the temps warm up a bit and then go for a ride. The original plan was to drive down to Frisco, take the bike path back to Copper Mountain and then return the way we came. That would give us about 15 miles or so for a nice recovery ride, and our last ride in the high country. Feeling pretty good, we changed plans in Frisco and decided to follow the bike path back over to Breckenridge. We figured this would be a much more scenic ride, as the bike path back to Copper Mountain just follows I-70…As it turns out, we made the better decision.

You couldn’t ask for a better day for a bike ride. The air was cool, the sky was a brilliant blue and dotted with white puffy clouds, and best of all, there was very little if any wind. We parked the car at the Frisco marina on Dillon reservoir and went in search of the bike path over towards Breckenridge. After some meandering about, we finally hooked up with the path. The initial portion of the path that follows along Highway 9 cuts back into the Aspen forest just above and to the west of Hwy 9, and eventually drops you out again paralleling Hwy 9 towards Breckenridge. This is where you get your first view of the vast Breckenridge Ski area. I was struck at just how close to the tree-line you are over on this part of the valley. Focusing back on the path in front of me, I was impressed as to how many people of various cycling flavors you see on this path. It was just plain cool seeing so many people on bikes!

Frisco Bike Path Video

A long straight shot takes you right into the heart of downtown Breckenridge and along the Blue River. It was fun to stop and watch everyone just taking it all in by the shore of the river. Bobbie even got to dip her toes in the frigid water. Hanging around for awhile, we got to talk to the “flower” lady whose job it is to keep all the pots of flowers fresh and nice looking for the tourist—and there are a ton of these flower pots all over Breckenridge. Reluctantly, we left Breckenridge behind and retraced our pedal strokes back to Frisco where we would dine on some yummy New York, Colorado hot dogs.

Colorado is definitely one of my favorite places to visit. The high-country, however, does take bit of getting used to and I recommend about 5 days of acclimation, especially if you are going to do any strenuous activity above 9,000 feet. Maybe next time we can get a little more time off and get here a little earlier for some Copper Triangle preparation.

Copper Triangle — 1 Aug 09

2009-08-06T17:00:00.000-07:00

Bobbie Sports the Coveted Copper Triangle Jersey

Almost every mile above 9500 feet mean sea level. Who woulda thought? I’m not sure if I realized what I got us into by signing us up for this one, but it sounded like a real good idea at the time and besides, it is Colorado—one of my favorite places to visit on this planet. So, off we go at 0615 in the morning accompanied by about 3000 other hearty soles to explore a mountain paradise devoid of oxygen. Appropriately, Bobbie and I sported our Club Hypoxia jerseys to let everyone know that we, indeed, willingly picked altitude today, over oxygen.

The Copper Triangle ride is in its 4th year and was started as a fundraiser for the Davis Phinney Foundation to help its quest to find a cure for Parkinson’s Disease. This year, the ride raised over $105,000 for the foundation. That’s a pretty hefty amount when you consider the ride was limited to around 3,000 riders and also considering the costs of putting on such an event. Thanks to a host of volunteers and sponsors like Cliff Bar, Colorado Cyclist, and Copper Mountain Resort the ride was a huge success, and I’m sure will continue to be so well into the future.

As expected, it was just a wee bit chilly this early in the morning with the temperature hovering around 33-34 degrees. Here it is the first of August and we hadn’t seen temperatures like that since January back in Vegas. We came fairly well prepared, however, so the cold air early on in the ride didn’t affect us too much. I wouldn’t ordinary say this but the route actually helped keep us warm because right off the bat, you are faced with a monster climb of 11 miles at 6-8% to the top of Fremont Pass—all 11,318 feet of it. Now that may not seem like much starting at 9500 feet, but you gotta remember, there isn’t a whole lot of oxygen up there. So, we geared down rather early and set a pace that was actually quite comfortable. I will say this about climbing in the mountains: If you don’t have a triple chainring, or a well geared compact setup on your bike, you will suffer and spent a lot of needless energy getting over these high peaks. And, oh by the way, you will be mighty tired when it is all said and done with—go with the gears, trust me.

The "We made it!" Picture

With all “mombo” climbs come bomber down-hills and Fremont Pass did not disappoint. The major problem with these steep and long descents this early in the morning is you guessed it: wind chill. I think Bobbie would agree with me, that this was the only time all day we both felt chilled on the ride, especially the hands. The next bit of climbing seemed quite a bit easier and I would attribute the ease of climbing to our technique used going up Fremont. We passed uneventfully by Leadville (home of the Leadville 100) and were greeted with another long, but not so steep descent into a picturesque mountain meadow that lead us to another gentle climb into our second rest stop located at Tennessee Pass, and the 10th Mountain Division WWII monument. If you don’t like waiting in line; for the porta-potties, to fill your bottles, or to get food, these big rides are not for you. I’m always amazed that no matter how big they make the food tables or increase the number of volunteers at these stations, there are always throngs of people waiting in line. So, patience is always the order of the day. There was always enough food, water, and plenty of smiles to go around.

On Our Way to the Climb to Tennessee Pass

By this time, the air had warmed up quite a bit and we found ourselves, along with several others, peeling layers off by the side of the road. A long and rather speedy downhill dropped us at the base of the Battle Mountain climb where we still enjoyed enough coolness in the air to keep us from sweating as we inched our way upward. I was pleasantly surprised to realize just how much more one can enjoy by just slowing the pace down by a couple of miles per hour. I guess I was paranoid about “blowing up” rather early on these climbs because of the altitude more than anything else. As things turned out, discretion was indeed the better part of valor and that discretion added the additional bonus of letting me really enjoy the sights, sounds and smells of Colorado high country—I’m sure Bobbie would agree with me on this one as well.

Bobbie at Tennessee Pass

The descent from Battle Mountain along Highway 24 was exhilarating to say the least. Unlike the previous very looooong downhills this one serpentined its way all the way down the mountain to the tiny community of Minturn. Flowing out into a valley we followed a delightful river all along Highway 24 until finally reaching the outskirts of Western Vail. It is at this point where you join the Vail bike path and where the last climb of the day begins. The route cuts right through the center of Vail where you are greeted with an enormous mountain vista on your left and right that is covered with mountain homes. We were both stunned at the enormity of some of these homes and couldn’t help but wonder how anyone could afford such castles. The town is amazingly clean and neat. There are no “in your face” signs anywhere along the way. So, at least, the town’s folks are keeping things quaint despite the obvious sprawl all over the mountain side.

The Road up Battle Mountain

We would like to mention the Colorado State Police at this point. Despite their efforts to curb these types of rides throughout Colorado and the number of participants, I found these officers to be very courteous, professional, and very caring for our safety. On numerous occasions, we were escorted safely through some busy intersections and protected from passing traffic on some pretty narrow highways—so, two thumbs up and a z-formation for the Colorado State Police.

At the second to last rest stop, the “beast” begins. I say “beast” because I think it was tough because of all the previous climbing we had done so far, especially at altitude. The route starts out tame enough at about 3-4% and parallels I-70 using the old road before I-70 was built. A steady climb drops you out on the bike path that eventually leads to the summit of Vail Pass at 10,660 feet. The path itself is not difficult, but the grade changes are numerous, and after all the previous climbing, these relentless changes took their toll on our legs. The path was not without merit however. There were numerous places along the way where the view was just spectacular. I only wish we didn’t have quite such a need to get “this beast of climb over with.” The key, again, was to select the right gearing and just settle into a nice comfortable rhythm. Something that is a bit difficult to do after an already long day of climbing in the legs. Reaching the summit was quite a treat so we stayed there for awhile chatting with other riders, as we knew the last 7 miles was literally all downhill. If fact, we wouldn't go back “up” again until we climbed the stairs to the elevator that would take us to our room.

The Elevation Profile

We topped the ride off with an outstanding free lunch of salad, chicken picata on wild rice, iced tea and a couple of “Fat Tires.” Then it was off to the comfy grass to lay around in the balmy sunshine and take in the free concert. A truly great day in the Colorado high country, indeed.

A Rocky Mountain Preview

2009-08-03T06:45:00.000-07:00

It was an early get up at around 3:00 a.m. to catch the 6:30 a.m. flight from Las Vegas to Denver. Blurry eyed and coffee craving we start our journey. To our delight, it is 91 ˚F at 3:30 a.m. Yeah baby! Love the desert!

It is amazing how many Vegas cops we saw this morning, 5 in all, and all with someone pulled over for some reason. They even had a Cabi pulled over for some reason. Now why would you pull over a Cab driver at this hour of the morning anyway? Curious for sure.

Travel tip number one: never trust the little cart rental machines. Aaaah, only 4 dollars to rent one. So, in goes 4 dollars, machine thanks me very much, and says, “that will be 4 dollars please.” “I just gave you 4 dollars you low-life piece of shit, now give me my cart.” “No can do, that will be 4 dollars please.” So, I look around for someone to give me a refund and guess what? Nobody in sight at 4:45 a.m. Who woulda thought? So, I spie another cart-offering machine and try again, but this time with a 5 dollar bill. Well, I think. I’m gonna get suckered into this again. Much to my surprise and satisfaction, the machine coughs up a cart. Not bad.

We arrive into Denver without incident and are marveled at the size of this place. I would describe this place as, “one big-ass airport.” Anyway, we finally collect all our bags and load them onto another 4-dollar cart; scurry over to the shuttle area, and eagerly await the Enterprise Rental Car shuttle. Man, what a long ride to the rental counter…this is a big ass place! Turns out the attendant is a bike freak, kinda like me. I guess it was the Specialized, “Ride First, Work Later” t-shirt that gave me away. We talk bikes a lot and very little about the rental car. I think he forgot what upgrade I had asked for because he gave me a full-sized SUV for the same price that I was quoted for a smaller version. A nice little prize for us after all the early morning expenses we incurred.

Our first day at altitude was spent visiting Bobbie’s sister, Jean and brother in-law, Dave. It is monsoon season here in Colorado so the weather has been a bit on the stormy side. However, this day was perfect, scattered clouds, temps in the 70s, and the air had that cool, soothing, sleepy feeling to hit that you might expect from being in a Midwest forest in the early fall. Anyway, We all talked while they watched intently while I used their front porch as my personal bike shop. Since neither of them ride bikes per se, we struck common ground and decided to take up fly-fishing together sometime in the near future and plan a trip either here in Colorado or some place along the Snake River in Idaho. All in all, it was a great visit, but I was ready to get some miles in the legs at altitude.

Bikes packed and good-byes exchanged, we headed off to Ft. Collins for some riding and a visit with some Bike Journal virtual buddies we’ve made on-line. The weather wasn’t cooperating very nicely as the front range was covered with cloud adding the additional threat of rain. This didn’t look too good for our “mountain” training that we so desperately needed. As we cruised what looked like western Kansas for most of the drive, we finally arrived in Ft. Collins. We contacted our virtual friend Howard as the pitter patter of rain drops hit our hotel window. He assured us this rain spell would pass and that we could get in a couple of miles around Ft. Collins. Skeptical, we agreed to meet and give it a go. Well, the mountains were outta there for sure. So, we parked the car along the side of a road out in the country and hit the flat lands for a quick 18 miles or so. I gotta tellya, after living in 100+ temperatures and then riding in 53 degree temperatures takes a little getting used to.

Bobbie Getting Ready for the Horse Tooth Epic

Howard was so pumped up to ride, he said we had to go over and do the Wednesday night Hypoxian ride and take advantage of the situation to meet the other Hypoxians. Again, we were skeptical about the weather, and could have just sat around the room after a good dinner and some wine. But, we were glad we decided to join everyone.

Getting ready to ride, the weather loomed ever so close to the teetering point of misty rain or an outright downpour. It was getting darker by the minute as well, and the whole situation made you feel like crawling inside your now dry cycling clothes, walking inside, and curling up to a fire. But as the Nike slogan says, “We just did it.” All of us enjoyed a nice ride of about 20 miles along the rolling hills of the front-range, and even got to experience a little of that cool rain that returned from earlier in the day. I must say, it was great to meet Deadhead, Bike Princess, and Baltic Tiger. What great folks! Thanks for the hospitality guys, we really enjoyed the New Belgium recovery drinks and our conversations with Bogey the parrot! My only regret was that I didn’t take the camera with me that evening. Live and learn.

Day 2 in Ft. Collins was nothing less than spectacular. Once again, the threat of rain in the mountains curtailed our training plan up in Estes Park so Howard suggested we take a “Tour de Ft. Collins.” I had mentioned earlier that the Horse Tooth Reservoir loop sounded good to us, so unbeknownst to me, that is exactly what Howard had in mind.

Howard, Our Gracious Ft. Collins Tour Guide

Ft. Collins has to be one of the coolest bike cities I’ve ever had the pleasure to experience. There are bike routes, parks, bike friendly conveniences all over the place. According to Howard, Ft. Collins is one of the “Platinum” rated bike friendly cities in the United States. I can certain see why. I mean, the bike paths throughout town actually go under the streets around here! That means you don’t have to cross busy intersections anywhere in the city. How cool is that? Well, after down and around, here and there, we end up at the front range where the road turns up. Not just up, but up for a long way. We have now entered the Horse Tooth Epic, as Howard calls it. The first of three stinger climbs up to Horse Tooth reservoir.

Partly cloudy skies and cool temperatures made for perfect climbing conditions and spectacular scenery as we made our way skyward. The vastness of eastern Colorado could be seen to our right and the breathtaking views and depth of the Colorado Rockies was to our left. Cresting the first climb gives one the first peek at Horse Tooth reservoir, and what a peek it is. This reservoir seems to go on forever, both north and south. Words don’t describe the scene adequately so I’ll just provide some pictures. We stopped at the summit of all three climbs just to take it all in. With all big climbs, come bomber downhills and this ride did not disappoint. I watched Howard disappear in front of me on the final descent and came to find out he hit, in his words, “a disappointing 56 mph” on the way down. He said, “my best is 63 mph!” YGBSM.

The Horse Tooth Epic concludes with join up of the Poudre River bike trail system that ultimately leads you back to Old Town Ft. Collins. Old Town Ft. Collins is a must see for anyone traveling here. Folks here have preserved the flavor of the older part of Ft. Collins and the resulting atmosphere is just something to experience.

Looking South on Horse Tooth Reservoir

Taking a Break after Lotsa Climbing!

After a fantastic lunch at Rasta Pasta (I highly recommend the curry chicken dish) we headed over to the New Belgium Brewery to sample a few of cycling’s best ever recovery drinks. Every time I go visit a place where people work, I say, “gee why can’t I work here?” I’m sure people say the same about my place of employment, but I’d be willing to bet they don’t say it as often as they say it about this place. Just to give you an example, if you work for New Belgium for a year, they give you a bicycle! Not just a bicycle, but a Fat Tire bicycle! How cool is that? And, if you work there for 5 years, they give you an all expenses paid trip to Belgium for brewery training. How cool is that again!

The New Belgium Cycling Recovery Center

As guests, we were entitled to select 4 types of recovery drinks. My personal favorite is 1554. I’m not sure what that means, but it sure does taste good and I won’t forget the number, that’s for sure. Satisfied and fully recovered, we made our way back to the bike path and to our hotel for a little recovery nap. What a great day. Thanks Howard. You made our stay in Ft. Collins a memorable one! Now on to the Copper Triangle…

Copper Mountain Here We Come!

2009-07-27T13:45:00.000-07:00

Here we go. Out of this furnace for some nicer temperatures. Although the low in Colorado is 70 degrees lower than the high temp here, we are looking way forward to it.

Pack the Bikes, Unpack the Bikes...I'm gettin' good at this!

After a few days in the Ft. Collins area to visit and ride with some BikeJournal buds, we will be moving on to Copper Mountain for the Copper Mountain Triangle ride. About 72 miles altogether with most of it at altitude. Should be fun. Bike story write up and pictures to follow.

Cheers, Kent

Pay Back Time!

2009-07-17T05:25:00.000-07:00

They say that, “pay back is hell!” Without a doubt true as of lately in Vegas. We enjoyed the coolest June on record and now we are paying for it big time. Bobbie and I managed to get out on the bikes 3 times this week before work and each time out the temperature had cooled down to a mere 85 °F. Now that isn’t all that bad really. But, and there is always a “but”, you had to be on the road at 0515 to enjoy the 85 °F temps! Because if you weren’t, and Mr Sun started showing his angry head budding up over the horizon, it got to the mid 90’s in mere minutes. So early to bed, early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy and cool my friends.

What’s truly amazing is how the pavement around here really doesn’t cool off. The air temperature is what the weather guessers measure, not radiant temperature. You can add at least 10 degrees to whatever is posted, and that get’s you the “real feel” on a bicycle. But hey, we can’t complain. At least we get 365 days of riding around here. I wouldn’t trade the heat for 12 feet of snow any day.

Children of the Corn Part Deux - Normal, Illinois

2009-07-07T12:08:00.000-07:00

The original plan was to ride all three days while in Bloomington/Normal, but Mr. Rain came by for a visit and decided to stay awhile. The forecast called for a break in the weather around 1pm, but like all really accurate forecasts (hint of sarcasm) this one was just a little off the mark, and the rain stayed around all day long. Not all was lost however as we decided to just go for a nice long 2-3 hour walk along the Constitution Trail and see what we could see.

Sunday, we hooked up with the Vitesse Bicycle shop group ride that takes place every Sunday morning at 0815. Andre, the bike shop manager gave us word that this ride would be mellow and would be centered around getting some of his “running” customers into cycling. Like every other group ride I’ve been on, the actual ride time isn’t really the ride time, even though it is clearly stated that the ride will start at a certain time. This one was no different and we didn’t really get rolling until about 0830 or so. After a little social time, we got rolling and headed out towards Lake Bloomington again, but his time we took a little different route to get there which was a nice change of pace. Speaking of pace, Andre did not disappoint and kept everything within the groups’ abilities to allow a little social time on our way out to the lake. I got to know a whole host of different folks: a biology professor, ISU cross-country runner, several shop mechanics, Andre himself and the one each racer-boy who looked all of 12 years old.

The weather did not disappoint and the ride around the lake was as gorgeous as the day before. We added a little twist today and added the Evergreen Lake loop. Evergreen Lake sits about 5-6 miles to the west of Bloomington Lake and appears to be another man made lake similar to Bloomington Lake. Once again, our route just dumped us off into the endless fields of corn segregated by country roads with little traffic. The pace quickened as the professor and racer-boy got on the front and unknowingly jacked up the pace. Andre was quick to settle them back a bit and we all regrouped for a nice uneventful return to the bike shop.

I rather like these types of unknown group rides. You never really know who’s gonna show up and what the pace will really be like. I guess it is sort of an adventure. I was impressed with the friendless of everyone and the consideration that was given to the new riders. If and when I get back to Normal, I’ll definitely meander on down to Vitesse and join another ride.

Children of the Corn - Normal, Illinois

2009-07-04T08:07:00.000-07:00

You Won't See Many of These Barns In Nevada

I'm totally convinced after today's ride that old brain cells never die, they just need a familiar smell to wake them up. Cows, pigs, horses and the myriad of other farmland smells brought back fond memories of our childhood as we pedaled our way through the heartland. And what a great ride it was!

The Constitution Trail

Bobbie Rides the Trail

We managed to find the Constitution Trail that makes its way through the Bloomington/Normal metropolis and suburbs. This trail is a real piece of work and the usefulness of which can be gauged by the number of folks actually using it. Our start came a bit late in the morning for us, but we were pleasantly surprised by the coolness at this time day. Both of us expected the temps to be in the 90's with the humidity well up, as that was what we were used to as kids this time of year. So, the pleasantness of the day was a welcome surprise. As we completed our tour of the trail we opened up into the vastness of midwest cornfields, literally miles and miles of fields covered in corn. The complementary colors of the blue sky and green fields added to the pleasantness of the experience and did not abate for the entire ride.

Miz Bobbie Cruises The Farmland

Tons of this Stuff!

Lake Bloomington and Surrounding Area

We arrived at Lake Bloomington and decided to just take a tour of the surrounding road. The tour is mostly tree covered and you only get a glimpse of the lake here and there. The speed limit is set a 20 mph for moving vehicles so that gave us a little added comfort. There is a little bar-and-grill located at what is called the main entrance to the and is also to have the best hamburgers in Illinois. We decided to come back later with the car as a belly full of hamburger on a bike ride didn't seem like too good of an idea. So, the sharing of a 65 cent Coke and sit-down was the order of the moment.

Best Burgers in Illinois!!

Creative Flower Pot

If you ever get to Normal, we highly recommend a trip to Lake Bloomington either by bicycle or car. You won't be disappointed.

Cheers, Kent and Bobbie.

Happy Birthday America!!

Just Chillin' at Lake Bloomington

One of the Smaller Homes Along the Lake

No Bikes...Unless You Got 50 Bucks!

2009-07-03T05:18:00.000-07:00

The crack of dawn came early this morning as we started our journey to the midwestern town of Bloomington, Illinois. The temperature was up again in the Vegas valley, along with humidity and it almost felt like Florida around here. Yuk! Funny how you can break a sweat walking the dog at 0430 on a very hot and humid Las Vegas day.

The jaunt to the airport was uneventful and the gut wrenching flu bug I managed to catch two days ago finally abated. Lord knows I wasn't looking forward to travelling with that. I did say the trip to the airport was uneventful, but the arrival was a bit frustrating. It seems Southwest charges for bikes, 50 bucks for bikes. Even though mine is broken down into a nice tidy little suitcase, they still charged me 50 bucks. She asked, "what's in the bag?", A bike... "Oh, that'll be 50 bucks. We've always charged for bikes." Bobbie says, "You've never charged for this bike before." She again says, "we've always charged for bikes, that'll be 50 bucks." Seems the operative word was a bike, not suitcase. So, I call customer service. "Sorry, all of our representatives are at a staff meeting until 0830 central time, please try your call again." It's 0848 central time. So, I hangup and wait at 37 thousand feet.

Funny what and who you encounter on airplanes. I kindly asked the flight attendant, they were all stewardesses when I was kid, for another coke. She says seriously but at the same time rather jokingly, "No, I'm busy and I have three other orders in my head." I smile and say, "I'll pay you." She gives me that police, vice-undercover look and says, "Ok, 5 dollars" and then walks off. I smile and feel satisfied with the humor of the moment. She returns with my coke and says that she was sorry but she has had a lot of crappy passengers to deal with lately. "It must be the travel season or something, people just don't know what they are doing.", she says. I say, "yep, probably is something like that" and listen attentively to the rest of her story. Then she says, "You won't believe this, but I actually had one lady do something really astonishing the other day." I say, "Oh really, what was that?" ever so curiously. She says, "Well, you know how we go down the aisle collecting trash every so often." I say, "yes" "Well" she says, "this lady reached down to give me her peanut rapper that was lodged in her seat pocket, and before she gave it to me, she blew her nose in it! Can you believe that?" I say, "no, that's disgusting." "Some people" she says, as she walked off. We look at each other in amazement and disgust and Bobbie says she doesn't know how these people do this kind of work, and that she'd rather deal with snotty little kids all day then deal with adults sometimes. Me too. Hopefully we won't have to experience anything like that on the rest of this flight.

The plan for riding over the next couple of days is to explore the flat lands of Illinois by bicycle and try to document a bit of days gone by from our past. Should be fun and pictures to follow. The plan on day one is ride over to Bloomington Lake for a tour and maybe a picnic. Then, we will had west over to another lake that I can't remember the name of, spend some time there and head back through a couple of small Illinois towns located just north of Normal. We will also be using the Constitution Trail. I did a little research and the trail appears to head both East and West as well as North and South. We will be making our way on the North South portion and will hopefully explore the rest in the next couple of days, either on foot or by bicycle. Should be fun either way, especially if the weather holds out. So, we'll see.

Now, time for a little rest while I enjoy the message from the 6 year old behind me kicking my seat and listen his ever so loud lulliby out how big the clouds look up here.

Cheers, Mozam

A Ride Through Zion National Park

2009-06-22T12:16:00.000-07:00

With out a doubt; God's country! Zion is one of those places that gives you a sore neck because you spend the entire time looking up. Vista after vista presents itself at every turn throughout the park. While compiling this Blog, I couldn't get over how many pictures I took on just one ride. Check them out below.

We decided to make this a no hassle weekend and just take things as the come. Apart from the hassle with the hotel and a crew of rowdy family reunion folks at our hotel, the weekend was just spectacular. The ride from Springdale dumps you almost immediately into the park. You are redirected onto a bike path that is shared with hikers, walkers, dogs, bugs of all kinds, and yes gawkers with their necks craned skyward. It is advisable to be a little cautious here. Once off the path and into the park the ride is really tame so there is plenty of time for viewing and enjoying the landscape. About 10 miles or so in, you reach the turnaround at the Temple of Sinawava. The ride back out is just as spectacular so there is any boredom to be had that's for sure.

Race Across America - RAAM 2009

2009-06-18T12:33:00.000-07:00

My virtual friend Bob Avrit from BikeJournal will be riding RAAM this year with 7 other folks who have Type 2 diabetes to not only to conquer a challenge, but to promote awareness of the disease. It is quite a feat indeed for 8 guys riding relay style. They kick off today on their journey. You can follow them on the RAAM site. Their team name is Team Type 2. Should be quite exciting to follow. Team Type 2 Website

I gave some thought once to riding my bike across America, and I may just do that given that I'm still able and have the time. But racing across America, I'm not sure about that. I'm all over these endurance sport type thingees, but I'm not that obsessed. I do, however, enjoy reading about RAAM from the comfort of my office chair and the companionship of my PC. Having done both the Furnace Creek 508 and Hoodoo 500, I can at least say I have tasted a bit of what RAAM is all about; tasted but not experienced. One can only truly appreciate the suffering by being there. It is kinda like putting drop of really expensive wine on your pallet. You get the idea, put not the appreciation of what really goes into a fine glass or bottle.

RAAM 2009 kicked off this past week with the solo male riders and solo women going first. The team riders will follow on the weekend as they are a faster bunch and tend to catch the solos about one-third of the way into the race. The race organizers have added another flavor to the race by adding an event called RAW, or Race Across the West. This little gem is about 1000 miles long, ending in TAOS, New Mexico. Fast and furious this will be I'm sure.

Good luck to all!

Boulder City and 86 °F in June!

2009-06-15T12:35:00.000-07:00

I've been here in this over sized cat box since 1989 (geez, that makes me feel old) and I never have seen weather like this in the middle of June! The high today was 86 °F. Now that has to be some sort of record. Along with the great weather comes some great cycling! Yahoo! It also brings a bit of wind, but I gotta tellya, I'd rather have a little wind than 110+ temperatures by 9am.

We decided to just do our own thing today and head over to Boulder City for a loop around the neighborhoods and then make our way back to Anthem. It has been awhile since Miz Bobbie has been on an extended ride so I willingly obliged her desire to put in a few more miles. The ride down Hwy 93 isn't the greatest road but it is the only way to get there, at least until they get the River Mountain Trail finished. They are doing pretty well, however. I noticed a section of paved path from Boulder City to about halfway to railroad pass. So, it at least looks like things are progressing.

The Very Old Boulder Dam Hotel

Like I said, the weather was superb while we made our way past the airport and on up the short but steep incline that leads you back to "horse country." It is kinda odd seeing all these really expensive homes backed up to horse stalls that radiate with the smell of horse shit. Well, I guess if you are a horse person, that never ending smell must be a treat. Not for me however. It was all I could do just to get through the place. Well, the loop through the old part of town basically dumps you back onto Hwy 93 where you get to make the trip back, you're just on the other side of the road...

I could tell that the ride was wearing on Bobbie because she gets real quiet when she gets tired. And the fact that she so quietly said to me while we were stopped at a traffic light, "I is tired boss..." The paced slowed, the head hung over the handlebars, and the cadence also slowed as we crawled our way up another 600 feet to Anthem. All in all, a really great ride and good initial training for my Copper Mountain riding partner.

Lake Las Vegas

2009-06-11T04:52:00.001-07:00

The original plan today was to hook up with the GVC “Old Guys/Gals Rule” ride through Southern Highlands and back to Green Valley. Somehow that just didn’t work out. I think I miss judged the “hook up” time, or the group just passed us by. Oh well. As it turned out, we changed mindset and headed through Henderson and on down to Lake Las Vegas for a fun loop and then retraced our tire tracks back home. On any other day this ride is pretty routine, but today things were a little bit different. Normally, it is hot as hell around here in June and the ride feels more like a long slog through a sun baked oven. Today, however, the weather was just gorgeous and the air had that cool, California coast feel to it. The sky was bright blue and dotted with pure white-puffy clouds.

Up the Henderson hill we went! Actually, it is called Horizon Ridge Parkway, but most everyone around here just refers to the climb as the “Henderson Hill.” I figured since school was finally OUT and Bobbie wanted ride…and the fact that we are doing the Copper Triangle in Colorado in August…it was time to get some climbing in the legs. A quick tour through Henderson proper and it was down Racetrack Road on our way to Lake Las Vegas. Lake Las Vegas is kind of an interesting place really. The project was started several years ago in an effort to offer visitors and residents something other than just the, “Strip.” Before the great recession, this place was a highly sought after place to live and play…just about every square inch of desert is covered with golf course, hotels, or Mac Mansions! It is part high-scale resort and part high-scale residential, mixed with a few golf courses and a small village by the name of Montelago all quaintly set in a quazi European theme. The ride through the area is a small loop that swoops sharply downward into the area and then culminates in a steep climb through the residential area and attached golf course. A bit of irony also hangs over this place. The “lake” part is actually man-made because the entire development sits directly below the Las Vegas waste-water treatment facility. Apparently, in order to build such an upscale development the waste water had to be routed underneath the man-made portion via tunnel which ultimately directs the water into Lake Mead. Take that California! Usually we just haul ass through here, sometimes grabbing a coffee at Saxby’s, and then starting our climb back out to the city. Today we just took our time to discover some things we missed during our earlier haste-filled rides. I think I was most impressed with the waterfall coming off a man-made rock structure located at the base of the Ritz Carleton Hotel and Casino. I must say, however, I was also equally unimpressed with the poor attempt at a white sand beach that is also provided by the hotel. The beach thing, for whatever reason, just seemed so out of place in this environment.

Our climb out and back home seemed pretty much the same and we couldn’t help notice the impact of this recession thing going on. There are a lot of empty graded pads out in the middle the desert that give evidence of projects either abandoned or left unfunded. This is really a shame because these abandoned, austere geometric shapes significantly detract from the natural desert landscape. Back in the concrete jungle, we stopped for a nice refreshing ice-cold coke and a respite before making the climb back to Anthem. Truly a great day and a great ride!

Ritz Carlton Waterfall

The Bridge over to Montelago Village. You can ride your bike through here. Pretty cool indeed.

Rebirth of the Bontrager...well sorta

2009-06-03T13:04:00.000-07:00

The Culprit!

With all the excitement of going to Cali for the BikeJournal Reunion, I almost, but not really, forgot about rebuilding the Bontrager so I can get the beloved Trek back on the road. I figured since Bontrager/DT made such a great hub, I would opt for a much lighter American Classic Micro instead.

Enter the Savior!

At a whopping 65 grams, this hub is surprisingly strong. I know because I have two other wheel sets made by American Classic; two 28 holers that have held up just fine over the many thousands of miles I've put on them. The only drawback to this approach was that I had to buy new spokes and the DT Aero's that I need aren't cheap. I think the added expense, however, will be well worth the money, time and effort it will take to get this puppy back on the road. Time will tell. Guess it's time to blow the dust of the spoke wrench and get crankin'. Pictures when I get it done.

Some Mighty Expensive Spokes!

Another Fun Rough Ride

2009-05-30T12:40:00.000-07:00

Watching these guys up in the hills around our house all week, we got a little curious about what they were doing. Sure enough, they were putting in another trail. So, we just had to get out the Rough Rider bikes and take a look for ourselves. The new trail is perfect, or at least near-perfect. It appears that building a new trail includes putting down a lot of extra soil were the trail is cut. I guess this improves smoothness or something. Either that, or ensures nothing really grows back. I dunnno! Anyway, it was good thing we had the extra wide tires on today. Otherwise, we would have been doing a lot more hiking than biking.

Exploring a new powerline road, we huffed and puffed our way up a really steep incline. The road basically sucked because of all the huge rocks and it really wasn't even suitable for a mountain bike. So, we reversed course and headed back to the Joshua Tree trail for some fun. That one is a blast. A couple of miles of groomed trail the dumps out on to a more manageable powerline road. This Rough Rider thing could easily become a habit. But man is my bike a mess!

Bike Journal Reunion, Days 2 & 3

2009-05-26T12:22:00.000-07:00

A Myriad of Photos of the Weekend. Thanks to: Mozam, GW_12, Fredwina, and of course; the one and the ONLY Miz Pansy Palmetto!

Awesome is the word to describe these two days for sure. Day 2 took us on a no drop ride through wine country courtesy of our tour guide, Homey. The 30 mile route took us on some of the lesser known and lesser traveled roads through Paso Robles. In fact, they were so less traveled we only saw just a few cars all day. Of the cars out there, we were lucky to happen upon a line of Ferrari's in a hurry to "get somewhere." Check them out in the video above. Along with the route, the weather was perfect and stayed that way all day. I love this place and I'll be back again, that's for certain.

The whole Great Western Bike Rally is a kinda, do it as you want kind of event. Although there are detailed routes available, none are touted as organized rides. Various groups just get on the road and go. That's kind of nice and keeps the groups sizes more manageable out on the road.

Not to be out done by day two, day three added even more to the splendor that is known as the Central Coast. A few of us brave soles, took on the, "Homey Century." The start time, thank God, was moved back to a more reasonable starting hour of 7am. The temperature, however, was bit nippy hovering around 42 degrees for an overcast, brisk start. The cold would abate quickly as we climbed up Peachycanyon Rd. The twists and turns, combined with the grade warmed us up quite nicely. At the top, we waited for the other riders who joined us on one of the most spirited and scenic descents I've ever had the pleasure to experience. Making our way to Hwy 46 for the last screaming downhill into Cambria, I parted ways to meet Mrs. Mozam and Jr. Mozam for a wonderful lunch in a quaint restaurant smack dab in the middle of downtown Cambria. If you get a chance to visit this town, you won't go away disappointed.

Leaving the rest of the Mozam's behind to enjoy Hearst Castle, I set out on the return home. I knew from the descent into Cambria that the ascent back out was going to be a challenge. The climb did not disappoint. Nine miles later and 1762 feet, I hit the summit about an hour after my start. The climb is relentless at about 6% average with spots reaching 8%. The scenery was just awesome and took my thoughts far away from the pain, so that was a relief. The small, short climbs finishing the route back in to Paso Robles paled in comparison. All in all, this was a superb trip and one which we will certainly repeat in the future.

Bike Journal Reunion Day 1

2009-05-23T06:00:00.000-07:00

Mozam Get's His Audience with the Queen Pansy

Greetings from El Paso del Robles (I have now idea what that means) and the Great Western Bike Rally! We arrived about 2pm, got settled into the hotel in Atascadero and wandered over the Paso Robles fairgrounds in search of our Bike Journal virtual buddies. This is the first time I've met any of these folks in person with the exception of SteveO. Her Royal Highness, Miz Pansy and I tagged up via cell phone and could be seen walking towards each other while communicating via satellite. You could not miss her as she was sporting the latest in cycling fashion via a Bike Journal jersey and orange camouflage shorts. Let me tellya, she is one hot babe in that outfit. Also sporting designer shades and some serious bright blue eye makeup that I wouldn't get see until later. Everyone was pounding some Fat Tire as we arrive at the communal campsite and I thought, "hey, I like these guys!" After introductions, a beer and some first time EVER recumbant time, we piled into cars and had some really great Mexican food. Ya gotta love California Mexican food. Best ever! That and a 32 ounce local brew, or which, I could only consume 30 ounces...Jr. Mozam helped me with the rest. Twas a great way to top off a long trip in the car. Tommorrow. A no drop ride that Homey has planned and some BBQ at Casa Homey. Grilled Lamb, the ever present BBQ hamburgers, hot dogs...and I'm sure...more brew!

Rough Riding 101

2009-05-19T04:48:00.000-07:00

Today’s ride put us over the top as official “Rough Riders.” I guess being student, instructor, and evaluator all in one is a good thing, right? Our classroom today was the Henderson Trail network located a short distance from our house. The whole trail network transverses the hills to the east and south of Henderson and then towards Madera Canyon. We had planned to ride the same trail we hiked a few weeks earlier, but as fate would have it, we found some additional trail and followed that to round out the day’s ride. As hoped, the weather was just stellar today. It had been getting pretty hot about midday so we wanted to get an early start to take advantage of as much “cool” weather as possible. Hopping of the trailhead at 0730, we started our journey. Some may wonder…why take a road type bike off-road, especially THIS off-road? Well, like I said, the trail was close to our house and one can’t argue with convenience sometimes. We took it right in the face right off the bat! A short, but really steep butt kicker, about 15% in my estimation. We both made it up and over without too much effort, let me tell ya, riding off-road up that kind of climb on a road bike sure get’s the heart pumpin’ in a hurry. We both knew this route would be tough so we set out on our Rough Rider ground rules: 1) Have fun and enjoy the adventure; 2) No John Wayne acts! Stop and walk if necessary; 3) Most importantly, no injuries…there are no points for blood-letting.

We actually rode most of this with hiking only on the steep pitches in first 5 miles...and they were steeeep!!

I must say that I was particularly happy with the way the bikes turned out. Not just because they were assembled by Moi, but because I definitely made the right choice regarding gears, shifters, and tires. In particular, the tires where the most impressive. I opted for WTB’s 38mm width cross tires with an inflation pressure of 55 to 60 lbs. I knew from my limited MTB experience that a lower pressure is the order of the day on the terrain around here. The tires are rated anywhere from 50 to 75 psi so I opted for some place favoring the lower side. I was also surprise that we did not have any flats on this ride as I was expecting some sort of “pinch” flat problems give the sharp, rocky terrain. Another surprise was the amount of time both of us spent using the “granny” gear. Ours was a 28 with a rear 32 tooth lower gear. We used every bit of each for the whole ride. I don’t know if it was because of our lack of our off-road experience or what, but I was sure glad we had it.

Expecting to “hike” part of the route, we weren’t left disappointed. About halfway through the middle part of the trail, the route pitches up at a quick and wicked rate. I’m not sure if anyone could even get up that hill with a mountain bike, it was that steep. The hiking part didn’t bother us much, but both of us were surprise at how much effort we put into pushing the bikes up the grade. Coming off what we thought would be the end of the trail, we experienced what it was like to tackle some tight switchbacks that seemed more designed for hikers than bikers. Keeping our three rules of Rough Rider etiquette in mind, we just stopped as necessary and negotiated the obstacles on foot.

An elderly gentlemen met us at the trail end and informed us about a another trail to the south, or what he called Power Pole road. We made our way through a paved neighborhood and once again were greeted with a “hike” portion. Dismounting, we began the “push” again in earnest. At least this time the “push” was short and we soon found ourselves on Power Pole road. This portion of Rough Riding turned out to be a bit more enjoyable. The road was a little less rocky, not quite so steep, and a little smoother all around. Both of us wanted to press on to the end of Power Pole road, but we were suffering a little from the Bonk Monkey and were in much need of a respite. So, we cut it short, headed north along a graded, unpaved road that paralleled and flood channel towards home.

I had a few lingering thoughts about this Rough Riding thing. First, it is a lot of fun. As a pure roadie for many years, it was really nice to take the same sort of bike and myself out of our element and plop us into the unfamiliar. Second, if you want to keep yourself and your steed clean, this is not for you. Keeping clean and Rough Riding definitely don’t go hand-in-hand. Lastly, I think Rough Riding will continue to be fun and challenging. I was worried that this would just be sort of a fad, kinda like mountain biking was for me. Rough Riding uses the same sort of bike, the bike is a lot lighter than a mountain bike, and because you are riding a road type bike, you tend to steer clear of the technical stuff and focus more on easier to negotiate trails.

A Rough Riding We Will Go!

2009-05-11T13:47:00.000-07:00

I am pleased to announce that Mrs. Mozam and myself are officially fledgling Rough Riders. Yesterday we left the fear behind and took the bikes on some pretty awesome trails around our neighborhood. We set a few ground rules before setting out. First, use of the granny gear is not a badge of shame, as some roadies I know would have you believe. Second, and in true Rough Rider spirit, this would be about pure adventure and the joy of discovering. Third and last, we would walk the bikes on the steep stuff. There would be no points awarded for war wounds on this ride. All I can say is, “what a blast!” Both cross-bikes worked flawlessly and we had zero flats! Gotta love that. Henderson is a bit slow in the “bike” trail department, but once they put their mind to doing things around here, they do an excellent job.

Now, on to those really cool Rough Bikes. Mine is the first picture below. I decided to use some old shifters I got from a racer dude who crashed them almost beyond repair. They were triple compatible so all the much better for this little project. Mrs. Mozam opted for the straight bar look complemented by the elegant 8-speed gearing. That was fun! Finding 8 speed straight-bar shifters compatible with a road front chainring set up. Her bike is the second one pictured below. Anyway, all worked out just peachy and we were on our way.

The Henderson trails network starts at a park near our house (link in the last post) so we decided to give that a try. The trails are part access roads and part single track/hiking trail put in by the city. I must say that the packed down single track is the best and the most fun by a long shot. Our test ride turned from a serious evaluation of our new equipment to a kid-like fun fest. We soon found ourselves bombing down hills and trails and even racing each other up the short but steep climbs. Note to self: take much more water on a hot day! All in all, a great shake out. More pictures to follow and reports from the Rough Ridin' Mozams.

Rough Riders, Are you game?

2009-04-28T12:13:00.000-07:00

I've always toyed with mountain biking but never took it seriously. And...after purchasing two mountain bikes, watching them hang on my wall for over two years, I finally gave them to my son and his friend. Well as fate would have it, I recently discovered a website, while I was reading about one of the San Diego Randonneurs, that appeared to be a little between cross-biking (never got that bug either) and mountain biking. It is appropriately named "Rough Riders." Chris Kostman, the same guy who started AdventureCorps and who is also synonymous with the Furnace Creek 508, started this fledgling group. I instantly became curious and started reading the myriad of information, as well as enjoying all the photos he, and several others, have taken of their Rough Riding experiences. The thought of taking a "road bike" off road always appealed to me but I really wasn't quite sure if I wanted to risk all that expensive componetry, not mention expensive wheels, on a whim. So, I did the next best thing! I bought another frame! Go figure. Well, this one was quite a deal from Nashbar ($139) so I couldn't resist, so to speak. I had some extra components lying around gathering dust and I also had a pair of wheels I scammed from a guy at work for $50 bucks. So, I said, "self, why not become a Rough Rider." Well the rest they say is history. And now, here I am now waiting for all the goodies to show up so I can at least become a "poser" until I get everything together for a good 'ole Rough Rider day.

Remember, we enjoy getting "out there" by riding roads, dirt roads, trails, and paths on whatever bike we happen to be on or have handy. Sometimes the pavement's long gone and we're still on our "road bikes" or some bike that would be commonly considered inadequate for the job - and that's just fine by us! Rough Riding is not defined by the type of bicycle or type of riding surface. Rough Riding is a state of mind, a riding style with limitless freedom and an all-pervasive sense of adventure. -- Chris Kostman, Rough Riders

The whole framework for the Rough Riders is centered around the slogan, "Any bike, any where" and falls directly in-line with Chris' philosophy of adventure, in any form. For some odd reason this just appealed to me. Not because I'm bored, but because I really have a sense of adventure, even though I'm a little cautious about how much adventure I really do take on these days. Sloggin' through mud at 3am in the rain is not my sense of adventure, but cruisin' the back woods on poorly maintained, or dirt roads sounds great! At least as long as there is a shower, warm bed and beer at the end!

Like I said earlier, the frame is Nashbar's cross-frame, made primarily from cast aluminum tubing. A 56cm is to my liking and I added Nashbar's carbon cross-bike fork for the front end. Aluminum may be kinda rough on the bumps, but I wasn't looking for comfort on this type of experience and besides, you can't beat the prices! I had a 48x38x28 triple crank lying around that I'll use and I'll strip the Kestrel of the Dura Ace triple shifters to complete the brains of the drive train. I opted for a 11x32 cassette as the workhorse on the rear and we'll be mounting some 700x38 cross tires for the trails. The plan is to keep this ride on fire roads, graded trails, sidewalks, and paved roads. None of that rock infested single track stuff for me this time around. If I encounter that crap, the Rough Rider becomes a Rough Walker. At least until I can find suitable riding conditions again. Sounds like a plan, eh? Click here for a detailed listing of the trails we plan to ride in and around Henderson.

Here is a photo like the one I'm planning to build. Should be a sweet machine. Specs include Dura Ace Triple shifters and brake combo. Shimano Wheels, 11x32 Sram 9-speed cassette. Nashbar cantilever breaks, Cannondale suspension seatpost 27.2, Deore 9-speed rear derailleur, Dura Ace Triple front derailleur, and a 48x38x28 Triple chainring combo. Should be plenty for them thar' hills.

Here is the frame sans fork. The rear drop out measures out to 130mm, unlike a lot of cross bikes that are 135mm. This is nice because you can just swap out a regular set of road wheels. Most of them are the standard 130mm dropout measurement.

And the tread! 38mm treking tires from WTB via Nashbar. Got these on sale for $10 a piece. We'll see how these hold out on the trails around our house.

Are you a Billy Goat?

2009-03-28T16:20:00.001-07:00

So, you think you can climb a hill on your bike, huh? Well check this out: Fargo Hill Climb I've always been fascinated by how those really, really skinny dudes can go up hill so fast and I've come to realize that it is all about physics. You see, if you are a little skinny f__ker you can go UP hill faster. Why you ask? Well, why is there air? Just because. And remember: "gravity is not just a good idea, it is the LAW!" So, what's a guy to do? For starters give up the crappy food, loose the belly, and start climbing hills. Sounds simple enough right. So, if I keep the same strength and lose a few elbeess' I'll be able to go faster uphill. Let me think about that again over another glass of wine. After all, there is no extra calories in wine so I'm safe right?

Cheers, Mozam

Yeah! I know, I know....

2009-03-22T10:13:00.000-07:00

I know, I know. It's been ages since I updated this thing, but hey, now that I'm on FaceMagnet, I can't seem to find the time to update this Blog very often. So here goes.

What's happened since Nov of 2008 anyway. Well, a lot of the same old shit, and of course, work, work and more work. But, I have found time to ride many, many miles and that has been a bonus for life. Let's see: 51 rides, 1,749 miles, and 49,891 feet of climbing so far this year. Not bad for a working old man, eh?

I would go out for a ride today, but some asshole turned up the wind machine, and turned it full blast! As you can see from the insert. It's a howlin' at 27 miles per hour around here. And judging from the trees bangin' against the house, it's every bit of that 27 miles an hour. So, today I enter the dreaded home gym for some real work on some muscles that haven't seen exercise in awhile. Oh boy, soreness tomorrow. Well better get to it.

Cheers, Mozam

Reflection...

2008-11-25T04:47:00.000-08:00

The first road bike I built. This one for Bobbie in 1994

News Fash! BikeJournal is now fully up and running. So, my daily cycling blog should be up again. I'll update that once it stops raining!!

I've been on a quest now for almost 3 years to catalog most, if not all, of our family photos into electronic form. The task has been much larger than I originally thought, as well as consumed much more of my time. Murphy: "Everything takes longer than you think." Looking at all these pictures of time gone by in multiple succession, I couldn't help but think to myself, "where did all the time go?" So, I guess I started reflecting on the past and in some way hoping to match up braincells with the multitudes of images. What does this have to do with bicycling? Well, a lot actually. I began to reflect on how long I have been riding my bike. Not riding my bike as a kid because most, if not all of us, can remember those days. But, rather, reflecting more on how and when I got serious about cycling. Some of the pictures brought me back to 1989 and the time I got my "real" road bike. A friend of mine got me into cycling after running got just too damn painful and hard. I remember how cool 7-speed index shifting felt, and how cool that Trek 2300 looked sitting in my garage ready for a spin on the road. With each image, those memories seem to stand still in a weird sort of way. Kind of like all the old family photos I have been going through. The photos, viewed individually, seem to freeze time. They halt your thoughts and transport you to that instant in the past, while at the same time, leave you with the feeling that it was only a moment before. Photos awaken memories of my first Century to Mesquite, Nevada and how I carried that 400-pound gorilla on my back with about 40 miles to go. And the exhaustion I felt finally dragging myself to the finish line with a nearly flat front tire, unwilling to get off the bike before the end to fix it. And, how good that beer tasted at 150 miles of my first double attempt. It never felt so good to quit something in my entire life. Yep, reflection. A perfect word to describe my mood of late. Here's a quote from an article I like:

"Everything Dies (Every Rider Crashes.) Everyone and everything falls down eventually; Twin Towers, The Roman Empire (most of it anyway, except for the ruins still on the official tour) Kurt Vonnegut, rest in peace our hopeful cynic. Truth is, the more you worry about crashing the more likely it is you will. Riding and living tentatively is the kiss of... well, you know. Worse still, if you try to eliminate all chances of crashing, it's the kiss of mediocrity. Over time you'll go brittle, hollow and old while barely noticing, and your bike will grow cobwebs from hanging in the garage. Try this, act as if today is the last day you'll own a set of legs... it might be. No, I haven't heard anything, but if I had, I'd want exactly what you would want... one more ride."

Joe Kurmaskie.

Honolulu Century circa 1995!

Ride the Rockies circa 1998

Windmill Century, Central Coast California circa 1999.

Down but Definitely Not...Out!

2008-11-09T07:51:00.000-08:00

As most of you know by now, we had an automated attack on our database, Monday, Nov. 3rd. Nothing personal as far as I understand - but that doesn't make it any less vicious. As a result, many records were overwritten with a malicious URL (website address).

I wasn't gonna say anything about this but I just can't let this go by idle. Would the person who wrote the malicious code that put his site down please identify yourself as the low-life scumbag that your really appear to be! There are about 15,000 people right now who would like to take a wire brush to your butt and teach you a lesson. Although this attack on BJ appears to be nothing "personal", the fact that some low-life would write such code to destroy the good naturedness of this site is beyond belief to me. We should just take these assholes out and break all their little fingers so they have to use a pencil in their filthy little mouths to tap on the keyboard. I voted for hope just recently, and it is my fervent hope that we find these little self-indulgent assholes and hold them accountable for their vicious little deeds.

OK. Rant over. On a more upside, I recently added several links on the right hand bar that take you to various journals about bike touring. They are individually linked so they won't navigate you away from my main page. I also did the same with my ride reports that you will also find on the right hand bar. Unfortunately, the way that blogspot is setup, they navigate you away from the most current blog. To get back to the most recent blog, just click on "Mozam's Cycling Adventures" and you will be taken back to my most recent blog. I'll fix this later, now that I know how to make it work correctly. Comments are certainly welcome so feel free to tell me what you think. I'll change these up now and again to add a little interest so if you find a journal you like be sure to bookmark it for yourself. You can also read a ton more journals at Crazyguyonabike.

Cheers, Mozam

Ride for a Cure...

2008-11-04T05:14:00.000-08:00

Rows of shelves lined with fireworks, and I’m not talkin’ sparklers here either. Also, more cigarette cartons and bottles of booze than you could shake a stick at. Where was all this you might ask? The Paiute Indian Reservation truck stop at exit 75 just north of Las Vegas on I-15, the start of today’s charity ride to raise funds for a local lady stricken with breast cancer. That’s what I saw at 7 o’clock in the morning when I went inside looking for a restroom. To say the least, I was a bit taken a back. Turns out that that wasn’t the only surprise of the day, and the ride hadn’t even started yet. Getting back in the car and following what was obviously another cyclist looking for the start point, we entered a rather large truck-stop parking lot and were directed by someone obviously in charge to park, “over there.” So, we parked “over there.” To my amazement parking over there meant that we got a birds-eye view of the fireworks test area. Seems you can do that in Nevada. Now, I’m not much for litter. As a matter of fact, I hate it, and loath those who are so lazy to create it. Well, let me tell ya. This area was at least a square mile of used bottle rockets, large fireworks containers, and general trash. Disgusting. But I guess it’s not my reservation so I’ll move on to the cycling.

The event was probably one of the biggest “non-organized” events I’ve ever attended. The gal running things, Asia, managed to get over 200 people to show up, all of whom raised over $4250 dollars to help this nice gal fight breast cancer. Several bike shops donated items for raffle, and several folks gave up their entire day to volunteer and SAG. The only thing that didn’t cooperate was the weather. The skies were relatively clear but the wind was blowing relentlessly and was getting stronger by the hour.

The ride started a little late and we rolled out about 30 minutes past the stated start time. The route took us up a small 9-mile incline towards Valley of Fire State Park which lies about 11 miles from the truck stop. Everyone pretty much stayed together until the road pitched up. Standard. The racer boys dropped everyone early and proceeded on their way while the straggling peloton eventually broke completely apart into small groups of riders. I must say that the scenery is pretty much junk until you drop into the park. The Nevada desert just doesn’t have a whole lot to offer from a generalists standpoint.

After reaching the summit of our 9 mile climb, the road drops off dramatically and immediately into the park. The downhill was quite a thrill and quite a challenge for me as I did the “one handed” photography thing. Just past the ranger station the rewards begin. The bland Nevada desert changes into a spectacular assortment of colors that contrast dramatically with the brilliant blue sky. I’ll let the pictures do the talking here. Valley of Fire is truly a remarkable place and it was hard to keep focus on riding with such dramatic vistas unfolding all around us. The only bad part about this ride so far was the fact that it was downhill for a really long way with a tailwind. And any experienced cyclist will tell you that that means only one thing: uphill and a headwind on the way back. As luck would have it, that’s exactly what happened and the effect was dramatic. We lost a lot folks to the SAG, including Mrs. Mozam. It was probably a good thing that Mrs. Mozam dropped out at the ranger station because the climb back out is about 4 miles of 8-10% grade, all of which was against a headwind. I pressed on to get the car, when Asia pulled up to offer a fill of water. I told her I left Bobbie at the ranger station and she eagerly volunteered to go SAG her in. What a great lady! After the climb out, the headwind turned to a quarterly tailwind pushing me back down the grade at speeds exceeding 30 miles an hour. There is just something very cool about cruising down a desolate road all alone on a bicycle at such speeds.

By the time I got back to the start, the wind was blowing so much dust across the road it was barely visible. My car was covered with dust and it was a real challenge to get everything put away before the wind carried all our stuff off across the parking lot. The place was practically deserted when got the bikes put away, and it didn’t look like there was going to be any post ride events so we just loaded up and got the heck out of there. Next time, if we get up and the wind is blowing, we’re gonna blow this one off!

See the rest of my photos of Valley of Fire here

You can also see more pictures here.

Screw Work. I’m going to Bavaria

2008-09-17T17:03:00.001-07:00

Yep, as I drove down I-15 I decided to just keep going on to Bavaria. I showed the gate guard my base pass, drove into the parking lot, got out, punched in my code into the vault door and there I was, Bavaria! The land of Beer, Wurst, and bike paths. Holy shit! Bike paths. These things are freaking everywhere. You can even go over to Austria, Chekoslavakia, Italy, and even other parts of Germany on a bike path. And, you can do it in most cases without even seeing a car! Now that’s amazing.

Now that I’m there I think I’ll visit Munich. I went there once in the mid-80’s with a bunch of other fighter pilots over Labor Day weekend. We travelled from Ramstein Air Base via train to downtown Munich and rented a hotel room for all 8 of us! Geez, that was fun. Especially after drinking beer all night long. Talk about a bunch of wet seals lying around the room the next morning… burping, farting, and climbing over each other to get to the small bathroom. Here’s a great quote I found on Crazyguy.

Be aware that Oktoberfest beer - specially brewed for the occasion - is stronger than usual. The standard serving size is one liter (about two pints). The Hofbräuzelt is very popular with Americans, Australians and New Zealanders - probably due to the Hofbräuhaus' international fame. Female Australian visitors are known among the locals for their willingness to bare their bosoms and regal the oompah band with their bras (no kidding).

Yep, been there. Lived it. Seen it!
Knock, Knock, Knock. “Hey, Mozam where is the Netherland’s F-16 tactics manual?” Wow, that was fast. I’m back in the vault. “It’s not done yet, we’ll have it done by the end of the week.” Crap, I don’t even remember getting on the plane back to Vegas. Oh well, I’ll go back again soon enough. After all, the internet is a wonderful thing. Here ya go take a trip of your own to Bavaria. Next time I’m taking the bike!

Totally “Chuffed” to Bits!

2008-08-24T15:03:00.000-07:00

There I sat at work the other day, bored beyond comprehension, watching the clock on my computer tick down the minutes until quittin’ time when I decided to check out CrazyGuyonaBike. I haven’t been there for some time, so the thought of lurking around there for the rest of the afternoon seemed to have given me a jolt of enthusiasm and anticipation. You see, CrazyGuy is a site where people from around the world journal about their various cycling expeditions. Some of the accounts are downright well written, humorous and fascinating — and some, not so much. Well, I decided to click on the “featured journal” to see what’s up. What I came upon was one of those stories that you just can’t stop reading. Replete with colorful text and pictures, the account of this couple’s month long tour through the South of France and interior of Switzerland seemed to take me away from the boredom of cubical-hell, and deliver me right there along with them.

I wanna Move here!

Most accounts are great chronological entries that feature the details of the moment-by-moment happenings of a day on the bike. These accounts can be somewhat interesting at times, but most often they dribble towards the boring, laborious details that don’t really tell a story. This account, The Sound of Cycling written by Cathryn Ramsden, was different. Different in a “feelings” kinda way. Not that I’m a sappy, whimpy cyclist, but I really like the way Cathryn told her story. She did a great job of balancing her feelings about their trip with the not so entertaining details. She takes you on an emotional journey of planning and anticipation followed by, the anxious possibility of being totally “gutted” due to a serious accident several months prior to leaving. All in all, it is just a great read. So I’ll quit writing about it and just let you read it. You can find it here.

One of favorite guestbook entries: “Thanks again - you gave me the perfect excuse to fritter away an afternoon's work...” My sentiments exactly!

Here are somemore really great reads

Trans Am Blues
A great read about a young guy trying to deal with life and his dream of a Trans America Bike Tour.

Moving Forward in Souther France
A nice story about a couple's month long tour through the South of France.

Mad Max goes to burning man!
This is a really cool story by a guy who tries to make it to Burning Man. Ohio to Nevada. Great read!

Are your Balls Ceramic?

2008-06-06T07:19:00.000-07:00

What I really mean is: are your ball bearings ceramic or steel? I read an article about these new wonders of modern cycling and decided to do some investigating of my own. What I read did, indeed, spur on a little more curiosity. Would these magic balls make me ride faster? Would their decrease in weight help me get up a hill with less effort? And, was the cost justified? So after much net surfing and reading, I decided to purchase some individual balls and replace the Shimano steel balls with these new ceramics. As with most things when purchasing cycling replacement parts, there never seems to be an even number of anything that can be bought as a replacement. I mean, the rear hub has 18 little balls, 1/4" in diameter and the front hub has 22 balls 3/16” in diameter. It seems that everyone sells these little ceramic jewels in packs of 10 or 25. So, on the up side you get more balls for your buck, but what’s a guy to do with 2-3 extra ceramic balls, eh?

I guess I was on more of quest to see how light I could get my new wheels with your average stock parts than anything else. After installing the ceramics in the rear hub, the weight difference came out to around 60 grams lighter. The wheel set together came in at a respectable shade less than 1700 grams. So, now I’m down to 1640 grams for the set! Wow, that should equate into some serious kick-ass climbing advantage! Now I’m off to the front wheel. I figure I could gain at least another 60 grams by replacing the 22 steel balls with ceramic. All this for another 50 bucks or so. Not bad for a buck a gram.

As for performance and personal satisfaction by going to ceramic balls, the jury is still out. I did get a really good deal on the Shimano hubs and built a pair of new wheels for around 200 bucks, but the advantage of ceramic hasn’t really hit me yet—and probably won’t either. Geez, I think I could put a little less water in my bottles, take an extra piss, or leave my camera at home and get the same advantage. But, like I said, the jury is still out on going ceramic. Personally, most of my balls will be like Superman and remain balls of steel!

Some interesting links on Ceramic Balls:

Ceramic Supplier VXB

More Ceramic Ball Info

Yet one more link for fun. Check it out!

You Tube Video on Ball Bearings

30 Years and 11 Months!

2008-04-24T04:47:00.000-07:00

Craig at the entrance to Brown County State Park Lodge

Yesterday was one of those amazing days that you experience in life. It has been 30 years and 11 months since I saw or heard from my best man at my wedding. I’ve been actively looking for Craig Hamilton for what has to be 10 years now. I’ve searched high and low and used some of the best free sources available to find him. Well, yesterday, 22 Apr 2008 I finally did. I got bored at work and decided to try one of those “find anyone, anywhere sites.” Just on a whim, I typed his name into the little search box. As always, there were a gazillion Craig Hamilton’s located throughout these United States. I perused the list and stopped to study one entry that had an address listed in Indianapolis for a Craig Hamilton. Well, I thought, “why not give this a try.” I clicked on the name and sure enough, it was Craig Hamilton with the first address listed as Indianapolis, Indiana and the last address as Craig Hamilton, Los Angeles, California. So, I went to the magic that is Google and typed his whole name in plus Los Angeles. A few hits came up with Craig Hamilton, photographer and Craig Hamilton, this and that. I pursued the photographer link and found a picture of a guy holding a camera while shooting photos of race cars. I stared at the picture and thought, “Man, that does look a lot like him.” But that was all I had, a picture. I looked even closer and noticed the guy in the photo sported a goatee. That’s what gave it away! I was sure that was him. I sent an email to the guy who owned the site and asked him to pass along a message to the dude in the picture I thought was Craig. I gave him specific details that I knew only Craig would know so that Craig wouldn’t think I was some kinda stalker or something. It didn’t take long. I got an email last night from the guy who I hadn’t seen nor heard from in over 30 years! So, let the reunion bullshitting begin…

Craig headin' south to Brown County

Cycling content. Way back when, Craig and I rode our bicycles from my house in northern Indianapolis to Brown County State Park in the middle southern Indiana. I think it was something along the lines of 66 miles or so. I managed to salvage a few pictures from that day and they are posted here on this Blog entry. I remember that day well. It started out as most rides do. Full of enthusiasm combined with a nice cool, and windless morning. As the day went on, however, the temperatures of the roads climbed, the wind picked up, and we started getting hungry.

A Younger and Much Thinner Mozam!

Back in those days, the best bike you could get on our pay, which was basically nodda, was a Schwinn Varsity. We rode down to the park, stayed the night in pretty crappy tent, and rode back the next day. And so, Mozam’s cycle-touring career began! As a side note, cycling was basically all the transportation we had. No new cars, crotch rockets, computers, or cell phones. Just a bike. I remember riding that Varsity everywhere; to friend’s houses; to school on occasion; and just generally farting around. Who knows, with gas prices as they are, maybe those days will return.

Our "deluxe" Accomdations!

Goofin at Purdue, Fall of 1973

The Last Time I saw Him for Many Years

A Six Day’er for Vegas?

2008-04-20T06:43:00.000-07:00

I recently read an article about U.S. Cycling Hall of Fame member Jack Simes, who wants to bring six-day bicycle racing to Vegas. So, what the hell is six day racing anyway? Well, this type of bicycle racing is done on a Velodrome using fixed gear bikes and was popular in the middle 1900’s, especially in Europe. As a matter of fact, 6-day racing is still very popular in Europe. You can read the history here. The whole thing sounds right up Vegas’ alley. Why? Well, when you read the history article you will know. Anyway, even throughout the event’s history the spectacle seems to be based more on entertainment than cycling so I guess that’s a cogent event for Vegas. I’m not sure it will compete with the good ‘ole cow-pokes or NASCAR fanatics, but if you mix in gambling and some serious entertainment you just might have a winner. But then again, who knows. This town is all about the roll-of-the-dice anyway. You could probably put bears on tricycles, race them up and down the strip while at the same time, hand out free drinks and 10 to 1 odds on the winner and still make money around here. So, I say, why the hell not. I know I’d be in as a spectator for a few races.

More Links on Six-day Racing

Bobke Strut dot Com

Six Day Racing dot com

British Cycling News

Cool Book on Six Day Racing

Black Saturday Indeed!

2008-04-17T17:02:00.000-07:00

I don’t usually like to write about the misfortunes of other folks, but his past Saturday seemed like “Black Saturday” to me when it comes to cycling. Three folks, two of which I know personally, crashed big time while riding in an organized event, and the last of the three who was riding in my little peleton. Planet Ultra’s Mulholland Double Century and Century took out two people pretty badly. I’ve never done that ride, but I do know the area pretty well and there are some pretty wicked climbs, as well as wicked descents over there in that part of the Santa Monica mountains. My friend, Cynthia took a particularly bad spill as a result of some alleged poor LBS work on her bike. Evidently, her handlebars rotated downward on her stem, leaving her virtually “brakeless.” Unable to stop on a steep descent and with the potential of plummeting down a steep embankment, she chose to take a rock wall head-on in order to stop. Here’s an excerpt from her account of things:

"I should be writing Specialized a letter....their product is the bomb! There is nothing like having to pick your own crash landing spot...that was the most hellish experience...one that I don't want to go through ever again! And when the choices are cliff, embankment of rock, or try to ride out one more corner in hopes the descent does not get any steeper....well, those choices suck, ya know! I chose the embankment. Now, since the "School for Stunt Women" has not officially accepted my membership application yet, I do not have professional training on how to crash! Needless to say, somehow the most protected part of my body took the initial hit. The top of my head went into a rock, with my body doing an endo before landing. In my bloody resting spot, my helmet was intact, un-cracked, and no serious head/neck/back injuries of mention. Wow! Was that cool? So, I am now DEAD set on riding Specialized for my next road sled!!
For those who haven't seen me, I walked away with stitches to my left knee, hip, and forearm. I have superficial wounds in random places, bruising and strained muscles. I see an orthopedic next week to assess the damage from the laceration to the knee. I feel like I am recovering very well so I anticipate a good medical report with hopes to be back on the (a) bike soon.”

My other virtual BikeJournal friend had a similar Mulholland experience. Evidently, the road slopes away from you on several corners of the course making turn negotiation rather difficult. Curtis was lucky in that he, too, walked away from a horrible crash. After looking at the pictures of his bike, I’m amazed that he only suffered from a broken collarbone. You can read his account here.

I’m not much for cell phones, but this puppy saved DrDog’s bacon on last Saturday’s tour of Boulder City. I was in the lead with Bobbie on my wheel and the Costin peleton in tow, about 50 yards behind. There were a couple of splintered two-by-fours laying in our path. As we approached, I pointed them out as hazards (good bike leader etiquette, I might add) to the rest of the gang. Well, it appears that my signal did not get passed down the line, like it should have. DrDog was positioned well within the peleton, but not well enough to avoid the obstacles. I heard a muffled noise behind me and decided to take a look over my right shoulder. All I could see was a pair of legs sticking straight up out of a cloud of dust. DrDog hit the two-by-fours dead-on, did an endo over his bars, and hit the dirt while bouncing into the air a couple of times before coming to a rather dirty and bumpy stop. He, too, was lucky on this “Black Saturday” suffering from only bruised ribs, road-rash, and the loss of a now useless $700 dollar phone. The only thing we could figure is that the phone (tucked in his jersey’s rear pocket) hit the pavement first instead of his body. So, the phone acted like sort of a cushion, albeit an expensive cushion at that!
The only bright spot in “Black Saturday” that I can think of is that fact that everyone is still vertical! That’s a day I hope not to relive, or read about, anytime soon.

Make'em Race Bikes for It!

2008-04-04T04:52:00.000-07:00

What a great idea! Get rid of all these delegates, super-delegates, under-the-table-vote-changers for whatever reason, and give them road bikes for the Tour de White House. I’m pretty sure we would all know who would win given the current field of racers, but it would be fun to watch anyway.
In my never ending quest to find Blog topics, I thought about the question of whether any of these Presidential candidates were cyclists. The first thoughts that came to mind were: Obama is, or was, a cyclist because he sports that cycling physique; Hillary…not so much; McCain…too old and probably can’t remember how to ride a bicycle. So, I almost stopped my search there, opinion. Then I thought, do any of these people support cycling as an alternate means of transportation? The only one that I could find any information on was, you guessed it, the one who looks like a cyclist. Now, I’m not a real political person and I admit to not having voted in the last couple of elections, but this time will be different and my vote will go to someone who supports this sport as an alternative to burnin’ up dead dinosaurs.
Think about it. When GW took office, gas was $1.45 a gallon or so. Now look at things: $3.50 for premium and prices don’t show any indications of settling down any time soon, YGBSM! Either the next President supports alternative means of getting places, or they better find a way to lower the price of fuel because there is brewing public revolt taking place. Look at the truckers. They are paying about $3.75 a gallon for diesel fuel and it’s not even refined! If you wanna paralyzed the country, piss off the truckers. That’s a real good start. Supporting cycling may not be a political bedrock, but at least public support by the next President would get people and policy makers to consider cycling as a viable means of getting around. If folks picked up a bicycle and rode it to work a couple of times, we could lower the price of diesel for the truckers and keep this country on an even keel.
All right, let ‘s get back to the important stuff: Crazy Pastors, Lying about flying through a combat zone, and Chelsey’s inability to talk about her old man getting a hummer in the oval office.

Yep, First Thing They Do...

2008-04-01T17:10:00.000-07:00

Have you ever noticed that people pretty much do the same thing when they see your bike leaning against a wall or post? Human nature is an interesting study when you step back and watch it. Inevitably, the first thing most people will do is walk up slowly towards the bike, stare at it, and kinda lean to one side while studying the various parts. They will then stand up straight, put their hand on their chin and study the bike even more. Next, they will walk over to it, grab it by the handle bars and back of the saddle; lift it up and down a few times, all while shaking their head in some form of amazement. Now, there are a few forms of handling the bike and similar to the one mentioned earlier. I have seen some folks grab the top tube and pick the bike up with one hand. But, just about all pick it up and down a few times just to confirm the fact that is does in fact weigh the same with each subsequent lift. Then come the questions. The first one seems to be fairly consistent: "That’s a nice bike you got there, how much did you pay for it?" And…my favorite, "That bike sure is light, how much does it weigh?" After answering the first question, the response always seems to be, "Wow, you can buy a car for that much money!" And, in response to the answer to the second question comes, "What’s that thing made out of anyway?" So, the banter goes back and forth until the interested party is satisfied with the level of knowledge that they have attained. Actually, I’ve often noticed us knowledgeable cyclists doing exactly the same thing. Try it some time. Leave your bike there for someone to examine. Inevitably, they will study it for a moment and then they will go over and pick it up, put it down, and pick it up and put it down again. Then come the questions.

This thing called Randonneuring

2008-03-15T07:39:00.000-07:00

I've had this nagging feeling about cycling this year, and I seem to be caught in between the racer wannabes and the "just-ride-for-fun" crowd. All this mileage chasing and racing the rabbits has had me a bit disturbed. So, I decided to look into this randonneuring thing that I've heard so much about lately. Well, I think this just may be the ticket.

The emphasis on this type of cycling is primarily on the individual and not geared towards any kind of racing per se. Although the events have to be completed before a certain time limit, the time limits seem to be doable at a reasonable pace. Not only are these rides doable, they seem to be quite pleasurable in nature and focus on the camaraderie of cycling instead of the competition of cycling.

Rather Cool, Peachy, Keen Medal You Can Get When You Complete One of These Brevets

The complete Medal Gallery

Rather than go into all the particulars of randonneuring, I thought I'd post a couple of links that outline this type of cycling quite well. Basically, the rides are organized into what is called a Brevet (Bre'veh) and can be 200, 300, 400, 600, 1000, and 1200 kilometers in length, with the grand daddy of them all being the Paris-Brest-Paris 1200. All these are sort of a right-of-passage and come complete with bragging rights! So, off I go into another really cool segment of cycling!

Here is the "official" USA Randonneuring site: RUSA

An Old Friend

2008-03-06T05:11:00.000-08:00

This past weekend I resurrected an old friend, my Trek 2300 road bike. I bought her complete back in 1989 as a closeout model from a shop that no longer exists here in Vegas, Bikes West. I remember bringing her home and thinking to myself that this was the ultimate riding machine. She had seven gears, index shifting, three-cross wheels on Matrix rims, and a frame made from combined carbon-fiber and aluminum tubing. Wow, I thought! Technology is great and it just doesn’t get any better than this. I used to methodically clean her after every ride, painstakingly wiping her down from top to bottom hoping to somehow maintain that “new-bike” look.

Upon our first move from Las Vegas to Hawaii, I built a bomb-proof bike case out of plywood and packed her away for the long overseas trip. Unfortunately, I lost interest in road biking for a couple of years while in Hawaii, and my once cherished companion stayed locked away in her wooden cocoon.

I guess I’ve resurrected this bike a few times now that I think about it. The first coming was when I broke her out in Hawaii after a couple of years and actually started riding seriously again. After moving back stateside, we completed the Ride of the Rockies together in 1999, 7-speed original groupo and all. The second coming was a new paint job and the one that her frame sports today, only this time I added a 9-speed groupo for the new millennium. As a hallmark of her durability, we completed our very first double-century ride together in March of 2003.

Replaced by the need for a new frame and new fancy components, I stripped her down once again and tossed her in the garage for quite a number of years. She moved from this peg to that peg; from this shelf to that shelf, and always seemed to be “in the way.” Every time I would go out into the garage and see her hanging there, I would think to myself, “I gotta do something with that frame.”

Since I build my own bikes and do my own mechanic work, I often get requests from people to do some form of mechanic work on their steeds. I recently took a friend’s road bike and converted the shifting from the traditional road shifters to mountain bike shifters to give the bike more of that “motorcycle” feel he was used to. Well, during that transition I had an epiphany: hey, I thought, why not do the same thing to my old frame? And that, as they say, is the rest of the story. Recently, I did some work for a bike-shop owner friend of mine and as payment, he gave me a new pair of 8-speed mountain bike shifters. I sorted through all my old junk, came up with the rest of the parts and voila, she was reborn for a third time! And, what a great ride! So, now I have one more new-old bike to ride. I love rebirths. Life is good!

Last ride: Training, Saturday, 27 Dec 2003, Green Valley to Blue Diamond, 47.8 miles

Latest ride: Commute: Monday, 3 Mar 2008, Anthem to Nellis and back, 48.39 miles.

Totals since Jan 2003: 42 rides, 1786.36 miles.

How's Your Bar Tape?

2008-02-27T04:48:00.000-08:00

It sure felt good to be back on the bike yesterday after getting over this local disease that has afflicted everyone lately. While I was “down and out” I had the opportunity to do a few things to the bikes that I’ve been meaning to do for some time. One of those things was to swap out a couple of handlebars and change some bar tape.

Now here's an interesting wrap job, eh?

Are you picky about your bar tape? I mean, do you have to have it wrapped just so and finished off with that “pro” look? Well, I was always curious about why my tape never looked as good as those “pro” bars looked. So, a few years back I began to practice and ask questions about how to get that elusive “pro” look. I guess it is a bit anal to care so much about how your tape looks, but it really does matter to me. I work in a bike shop on occasion and I’ve seen some of the most unbelievable wrap-jobs you can imagine. Some people apparently never changed their bar tape since the first time they purchased their bike. These people are either really cheap, or they just don’t seem to care what the bike looks like. The bar tape jobs that really make me cringe are the ones that look like they have been drooled upon, sweated through, and used as a plate for lunch. You know, the nasty faded, slimmy ones that look like the colors have bled together so badly you can't make out the original design. Nasty for sure! Not to mention the colony of germs and other microscopic creatures that probably inhabit the handlebar.

A rather crappy wrap job in this photo
(Notice how bad the finishing tape looks)

Here’s another example. How about those wrap-jobs that seem to come unraveled all by themselves some place in the middle of the bar. The ones where the overlapping has disappeared and show the bare handle bar. Kinda looks like some kid did those jobs. And finally the finishing tape. My favorite for sure. This is where I’m really picky. I like that sharp, together, pro-look. Not that I need to use the finishing tape that comes with bar-tape package because that stuff can be really hard to work with. I’m talking about a nice neat, even wrap of either black or colored electrical tape. With just a little extra effort, I’ve managed to get some really professional looking bars by just using good ‘ole electrical tape.

This my Trek 5900's bars wrapped with Bontrager finishing tape

The Tarmac finished off with red electrical tape

The Roubaix with Blue electrical finishing tape

On occasion while working in the shop, I’ve seen what looks like miles of electrical tape wrapped and overlapping everything on the handlebar in some of the most heinous ways. The one crap job I get the most kick out of is the one where there is about one-quarter inch of electrical tape on the bar tape and about 4 or 5 inches wrapped off the bar tape and onto the handlebar itself. I guess whoever wraps the finishing tape like that must wanna make sure the bar tape stays firmly on the bar. So, they use just a little extra! Oh, and who can forget the, “I was in a wreck, ripped my tape, and decided to repair the rip with a few extra wrappings of electrical tape” type folks. I like those too. Can’t spend some bucks on new tape so I’ll use a yard and a half of electrical tape to fix the rip.

This is an interesting wrap. Notice that there is no finishing tape

Ok, so what’s the point? Well, here is what I do after years of raveling and unraveling bar tape. I start with the color. Hands down the best color is black. Plain and simple. Doesn’t show dirt, grime, and black always looks black. Unless of course you are one of those acid sweating, bleach anything with my bodily fluids kind of guys/gals. If you are, go for the synthetic mostly plastic stuff. It will last longer for ya. I start off at the bottom of the bar and wrap towards the outside. In other words, wrap the tape towards yourself as you make your way around the bar. Next, keep it a little taut as you make your way around the bar and wrap with about one-quarter inch overlap. Ok let’s get to the finish because wrapping the tape step by step can be somewhat boring and I think you get the idea. So, once you get to the end, hold the tape in one hand and scissors in the other.

This the proper way to start the wrapping

Cut the tape at an angle so that the factory finish side remains on the outside. This gives that factory finish wrap look all the way to the end. By cutting the tape on the inside (towards the stem) the final portion is covered by the finishing tape. Finally, wrap the tape around the bar tightly and follow up by securing the bar tape with some electrical tape. Be sure to wrap the electrical tape neatly over and on top of itself. This is were the extra effort pays off. You can now put the fancy finishing tape over the electrical tape, or you can find an accent color you like and use that over the top of the electrical tape. Voala! You now have “pro” looking handlebar.

This won't work. Notice that the wrapping pattern is backwards. Your pressure on the tape will cause it slide off of itself.

Some bar tape wrapping links:

Park Tools: How to wrap bar tape.
Planet Bike Instructions
Bicycling Article
Stupid Hurts I know article and pictures
Velocity Nation: Article and Youtube Video

Hal Rothman — Tribute to a Cycling Buddy

2008-02-23T08:36:00.000-08:00

Hal is the one in the yellow jersey. He couldn't ride any longer.

This time last year we lost a good friend and cycling buddy to ALS or what is commonly known as Lou Gehrig's disease. His name was Hal Rothman: cyclist, husband, father, and down-right genius if you ask me. Ted Kennedy said that Barrak Obama inspires him. Well, Hal Rothman inspired me when he was alive, inspires me today, and will most likely inspire me for the rest of my life. I must say, I've not met too many people who were what you would describe as bigger than life, but Hal Rothman was that way to me. I was never very close to Hal and you wouldn't describe us as best friends, but everytime we ending up riding together, you would think we were related somehow. Hal had a great way of making you feel part him, especially when he would expound on a particular historical subject or political topic. Hal was Jewish and I remember asking him about the Mideast situation and what he thought of it. What ensued was an oral dissertation on the creation of the earth by God, to the present situation today complete will all the details somehow packed in between. I used to just ride my bike and listen; often wondering how one person could stuff all that knowledge into their cranium!

Hal was a history professor and Chairman of the History Department at the University of Las Vegas Nevada, author of several books; and a nationally recognized expert on Las Vegas history, not to mention just about everything else. Hal was a great writer and he loved to talk. In fact, Cowboy, another riding buddy of mine, said, "yeah, you could never get him to shut up." That was Hal: ask him a question about some historical subject and he would expound for what seemed like hours. To this day, and I'm sure many more, when I think about Hal yaking up a storm while riding, it will always bring a smile to my face.

I've included some links below to things written about Hal. Please take a few minutes and explore them.

A few articles and some information about Hal Rothman.
UNLV Bio of Hal Rothman

Las Vegas Life Article about Hal

Review Journal Article about Hal

New West Article featuring Hal and his work.

Some of Hal's quotes.

Hal's Books

A couple of Hal's ride reports: Click on the links.
Lake Tahoe Century — 2005

Tour de France — 2005

Finally Did It — Butterfied Double Century!

2008-02-21T05:00:00.000-08:00

Click on the graphic for 2008 Planet Ultra report and results

Finally after 4 attempts (albeit weak ones), this one is finally in the bag. Butterfield changed this year and actually reversed course that included an all new route. The organizers warned everyone before hand that this route is rather urban, so if you don’t like stoplights and local traffic, pass and do another ride. Altogether, the route was very tolerable and absolutely beautiful in most spots. I gotta tell ya, when the weather in Cali is nice, the riding is superb, hands down. A pretty large contingent of Nevada riders showed, and we even had 3 tackle the beast on single-speeds: Mike and Steph and Frank. True heroes and a heroine of pain to be sure. Especially that 8-10 percenter right after lunch, ugh! All honor to their names! The rest of us slackers used our geared bikes to guide us up and through the tough climbs. Urban is not necessary bad, especially early in the morning and on a Saturday. We did, however, have our share of red-light runners (shame on you) and urinating on state-park property thugs, however. All of which were singled out and chastised profusely by the Planet Ultra higher-headquarters ride organizers. As a result, they are gonna put marshals out there next year to catch all you hooligans who think that red lights are only for cars. So, keep the Johnson where it belongs and use the provided facilities next time, OK? Forewarned is forearmed!

Mozam, Steph and Lisa cruise the PCH

Butterfield (which will be renamed to something else later) gives you a bit of everything really. Cruising along the beach; a bit of urban sprawl complete with some of the biggest estate homes you will ever see; to a gorgeous countryside spattered with horse farms, avocado orchards, and a few killer climbs thrown in just for fun. The support was pretty damn good too. If you are looking for a stop every 25 miles on these doubles, pass because you will be sorely disappointed. But, the SAG stops available were always stocked with plenty of food and drink, not to mention some pretty cool folks who managed to keep a smile on their face for some pretty long hours. My hat is off to these people. The most they get is a t-shirt and a surly comment from some idiot who can’t seem to appreciate what it takes to support one of these events. So, I always make a point of being very thankful and outwardly appreciative for all they do so I can enjoy myself.

Mark and Al cruisin' out of the Mountains

I relearned quite a few lessons on this ride. I basically violated every rule I had ever set for myself when riding a Double Century by not staying true to my riding plan. First off, we waited around at every rest stop for way too long. That’s basically a show-stopper in and amongst itself. You get tired, stiff, and suffer from mental fatigue. So, it is better to spend as little time off the bike as possible. We also stopped at points along the way much too often. It is better to slow down and let someone catch up than stop rolling altogether. We also lolly-gagged at lunch way too much and that compounded our timing problem even further. The bottom-line: keep moving and learn to refuel and hydrate on the bike as much as possible. Finally, I highly recommend sticking with your plan once you establish the plan in your mind. Compromising your plan for others will only lead to frustration on your part over the long haul. Once I realized that I had completely compromised my plan, the impact of my actions did not hit me until I tagged up with a group of really cool folks with about 7 miles to go to the finish. The guy next to me in the peleton said, “well, at least we will make the time limit!” Holy shit, I thought as I looked at my watch. I had ridden 187 miles and I was in a potential situation of being disqualified because I couldn’t complete the ride in 17 hours. I felt like a complete idiot because I had completely lost track of where I was and what time I was supposed to be there! So, keep the stress level to a minimum by following your own pacing schedule, the ride goes a lot smoother and you are a lot happier with results of your efforts.

Ending on the upside: It was a gorgeous day with perfect riding conditions. I met some really cool new folks towards the end of the ride, and I just had a blast bombing down Santiago Canyon in the pitch-black darkness. I know, sick isn’t it? And…I got to ride through some beautiful California scenery that can only be appreciated when you see it from a bicycle. I’ll be back next year, you can count on that!

See a slide show ride here
Read about the Butterfield Double Century here

Too Many Bikes?

2008-02-11T18:41:00.000-08:00

My Trusty Steeds Await!

I was in my garage the other day and a question popped into my middle-aged noggin’: Geez, do I have too many bikes? Nah, you can never have too many bikes, right? It is a guy thing I guess. Kinda like too many tools! You can never, ever have too many tools. I can prove it too. When my Dad died back in 1991, my Mom gave me all his tools, at least almost all of them anyway. What I discovered was that not only did I get my Dad’s tools, but I got his Dad’s tools too!

Seems every time someone comes over to visit, the inevitable tour of the house follows, and they always say the same thing when they enter the garage: “Man, you have a lot of bikes!” And…invariably they always start a verbal count…one, two, three, on…and on…and on…until they satisfy themselves that I, indeed, have too many bikes. Then the conversation usually centers on my justification of too many bikes and the fact that I, indeed, ride every single one of them. I even get a little embarrassed sometimes and add, “well, I do build my own so the cost stays down.” Robin Williams is a big cyclist (50 bikes, last I heard) and he buys a new bike practically every time he sees one. His wife commented one day saying that he had too many bikes. His reply: “well, they could be Ferrari’s.” Man, I can identify with that statement for sure. I’d feel a little guilty about having too many bikes, but I do in fact ride every one of them, and I enjoy it.

I even tried to get rid of a few frames once, but they are kinda like old friends now ya know. They keep coming back like homing pigeons or something. I tried to sell the Team Fuji on EBay, but nobody wanted the darn thing even though I lowered the price several times. So, I gave it a face lift and turned that puppy into a single speed. And it was a good thing I did, too. I’ve never had so much fun on a bike before. I also tried to get rid of the old Trek 2300 first-generation carbon-aluminum frame and nobody wanted that either. Couldn’t even give the darn thing away. So, I kept that one too and my plan is to turn it into a straight-bar road machine for be-bopping around the neighborhood.

OK, You can stay...But you can have only one gear!

They say the measure of a man is what people remember about him once he’s dead and gone. Well, as far as I’m concerned they can remember me as: Mozam, the guy who had a lot of bikes!

One Cold, Dark Commute...

2008-01-31T17:49:00.000-08:00

Today was my first commute of 2008 and in a word, it was cold! 27 °F and dark too! Back to that in a second. It appears that some busy-body, no-account asshole intent on keeping track of peoples’ comings and goings decided to single me out for scrutiny. I was told that I was creating an impression of taking too liberal a view of working out at lunch. The regulation (yeah it sucks working for da guv-ment) clearly states that I can take an hour-and-a-half 3 days a week to workout (GWB’s initiative to keep us all from dropping dead). So, I had been combining my workout with my lunch hour to get a few miles in. Actually, I was only riding for little over an hour on my riding days for about 20 miles or so. Well, this just didn’t sit well with some no doubt fat-chain-smoking creep, and now I’m told to correct that perception. So, in a few words and reading between the lines that means, “stop riding your bike at lunch.” So, if I want any miles during the week, I either commute, or ride after work in order to comply with the request from on-high. Ya know, I watch all these smokers around here take time away from their work at least 10 times a day for 10 minutes at a crack, to suck down a proven cause of cancer, and the leadership tells me I can’t go for a ride to keep myself healthy. What bullshit! But, being the good trained soldier, er uh, retired-military dog that I’m am, I just shut my mouth and implemented plan B. One thing that I learned as a graduate of the United States Air Force Weapons School (TopGun for all you Tom Cruise fans) is to always, always, always…have a plan B.

Note to self: plug in battery to fancy, expensive, flame-throwing light BEFORE early morning commute. Hey, what do these two red lights mean? Yep, 5 minutes out and on a dark bike trail with no street lights, I’m riding blind! Helen Keller Mozam, Whoohooo! Quick thinking on my part to switch on the backup light kept me from endo’ing on the upcoming rock (we have a lot of those here) in front of me, and directly in the path of my front wheel. There’s nothing like an adrenaline rush like that at 5am to get the ‘ole ticker going! The song, “What a dumbass” kept playing in my head over and over again followed by an encore of “Color Me Stupid”.

Pretending to be Helen Keller

It has been awhile since I rode so early in the morning and in such darkness, and I was reminded again of how much more attention you have to pay to drivers at such an early hour. The one’s that really getcha are the numbskulls that pull out of side streets 90 degrees to your path. They do that, “maybe I’ll stop here, but not really, look in the opposite direction first kinda thing” while rolling through a stop sign. Makes me wish I had a hammer so I could put a big fat dent in their hood as I pass by. Oh well, off into the concrete combat zone on my trusty two wheeled steed I go! “Know thy enemy, know thy self”.

Here we go again!

2008-01-28T17:19:00.000-08:00

Well, this is just peachy! It rained like a cow pissin’ on a flat rock yesterday and now this today. Al Gore must here campaigning for that bitch Hillary or something. Maybe he should get out his MacBook and do another f__king presentation, and explain why the f__king wind is blowing so hard. After all, he did invent the internet so explaining the cause of this wind outta be easy for a genius like him. Next thing ya know Mitt Romney will be here telling all these Sin Sity Sinner’s the benefits of becoming a Mormon. Oh, that’s right, there already is one of their “meeting houses” on every f__king corner around here anyway. But, I digress... Here is the current observation as I sit here on my ass during my normal lunch time ride

WEATHER WARNING 01-D17

VALID 281600Z (28/0800L) TO 282000Z (28/1200L)

Weather Warning for Nellis AFB:

High Winds >= 50 kts, maximum expected 50 kts.

I had actually contemplated riding today thinking to myself, “gee how bad can it really get anyway?” What a stupid thought on my part. Go outside and stand in this sh_t dumbass! The base weather guesser just sent out an email with a weather warning saying the winds could get as high as 50 knots! I’m psyched now! That’s about 56 mph for all you non-military type folks. I guess it will be a good day for core work. Yeah, right? Haven’t even started doing that yet. God, I hate the gym too. But as the Nike saying goes: “Just do it.” Think I’ll bitch a little more though before actually working out. Get’s me in the mood.

English Grub...Yum, Yum!

2008-01-15T16:51:00.000-08:00

Last Sunday marked an interesting experience for me. After completing EnglishJames’ birthday ride from his house to the Red Rock overlook, he and his girlfriend, Jen, treated all of us to a wonderful English breakfast complete with some kinda fried-poached-egg thing, sausage in pie dough, and what the English call: refrigeration cake. Believe me, none of this stuff was healthy. Well, with the exception of Paul’s (Mr. Watt) 3-alarm chili that he contributed. Chili at an English breakfast? I guess Paul didn’t get the memo. Paul’s chili, by the way, was primo! Just spicey and hot enough you could eat it without that, “this is gonna hurt tomorrow feeling.” My favorite, however, had to be the fried-poached-egg thingee. I’m not sure what was in this, but it sure was good. Especially, with some English mustard smeared all over it! Yum, Yum!

I think the highlight of the event though was watching James’ dog, Jill (of Jack and Jill fame) watch football on television. Jill didn’t just watch television; she enthusiastically participated in the game. Nobody else in the room seemed to care who was winning either, they just wanted to see Jill react to the next set of plays. Jill would sit quietly looking intently at the screen until the snap of the ball. As soon as the play started she would grab her little soccer-ball toy and race around the room until the play stopped. She continued to do this on 4th down punts, kickoff’s, and every snap of the ball. An amazing sight indeed. I never would have believed it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes.

Birthday Boy...

Cycling friends who care to give the very best... Happy birthday James!

No More of That!

2008-01-08T08:20:00.001-08:00

Well I must say...I've never experienced anything like this past weekend on a bike. Wind, wind, and more wind. In our quest to remain competitive on the BikeJournal mileage leader board, a few of us brave souls took on mother nature this past weekend and nearly lost the battle! From our weather guesser's technical accounts, all the elements and planets aligned properly to produce some of the worst weather on the West coast and Northern Nevada in quite some time. Record snow falls, 120+ mph winds, and floods all plagued our region in a short two days.

In a sick sort of way, VegasDogDoc and myself were looking forward to testing some of our newly acquired "foul" weather gear. Unfortunately, the rain abated and just left behind horrendous, 30+ mph winds. We took our usual southwesterly route down St. Rose Pkwy directly into this beast just to see how bad it could actually get. The longer we rode, the slower we got! VegasDogDoc commented that this was just like climbing Mt. Potosi. With every mile up that 10 mile mountain, the grade increases by 1%. And so, the same with the very "flat" St. Rose Pkwy. By the time we got to the end, we swore we were climbing a 20% grade! "Enough of this crap!" I thought to myself. So, we changed strategy and tried to put the wind at a 90 degree angle to our projected path. That worked for awhile until a very strong gust, literally picked me up and moved me about a foot sideways! That was certainly unerving to say the least, so we wisely turned downwind, put the beast to our backs and headed home. That was probably the hardest 25 miles I've ever put on a bike...no more of that, ever!

Off to a Pretty Good Start: 62.01 miles, 3,460' of Climbing

2008-01-02T08:50:00.000-08:00

The first ride for 2008 got off to a pretty good start yesterday. It was a bit chilly, hovering around the 30 degree mark. I didn't feel so bad, though, because Mrs. Mozam was on her way to the frozen tundra of Bloomington, Illinois and a -12 degrees, yuk! I seem to have beaten this cold bug, or at least I think I've beaten this thing so I decided to go ahead with my plans for New Year's Day and get some miles in. The plan originally called for a full Century, but using discretion as the better part of valor today, I decided to back off a bit and complete a metric instead. A few of us diehards showed up at 0830 for a cold and crisp start on our journey out to Callville Bay, Nevada for an out-and-back of 62 miles. I was a little hesistant at first because being an old fart now, I did not want to push this virus any further down the pipes than it had already traveled. The lead bunch, Cowboy, FastEddie and Danny, were kind enough to keep the pace under control and do most of the pulling in the headwind we somehow managed to find. Once we got to the Callville turn-off, FastEddie, Cowboy, and Danny pulled on ahead to round out their New Year's Century attempt. Myself, DrDog and Rod continued on down to the bay for what turned out to be a bit of a history lesson.

I couldn't help notice the historic marker located near the backside of the marina restaurant. Evidently, the town of Callville was a trading post/outpost many years ago for the Mormans who were looking for a trading route to and from Salt Lake, Utah. The original Callville landing was located on the Colorado River and is now underwater due to the construction of Hoover Dam. Here's a quick history lesson:

The Mormon Church, on their expansion west, needed a reliable route for their supplies and converts to reach Salt Lake, Utah. Elder Anson Call was sent to select a site for a steamboat port and, in 1864, he established Callville.

A large warehouse was constructed first, followed by a landing, post office and corral. The steamboat Esmeralda completed a trip on October, 1866, and delivered 100 tons of freight.

In January, 1867, the Army arrived at El Dorado and Fort Callville became an outpost until May, 1868. Callville, being very desolate, isolated and lonely, had the most desertions of the Army company stationed at El Dorado, and one suicide.

The Mormon's plan for a supply route via the Colorado was abandoned when the transcontinental railroad was completed in northern Nevada in 1869. Steamboats and barges trading salt between Rioville and El Dorado still made a few stops at Callville.

National Park Service and concession developments at Callville Bay began in 1967, after the North Shore Road was completed around 1966.

Click here for some more information about Calville Bay.

So, what is the moral to today's bike ride? Stop and smell the roses once in awhile, you just might learn something.

OK, It's decided and done!

2007-12-31T08:25:00.000-08:00

Alright, I've made my decision for 2008. And...I'm making it official and in writing by putting my goals down in this blog. First off, let's reflect a little on 2007. Oh, Happy New Year everyone! And...Say happy B-day to Mrs. Mozam, it's her 51st this year on Jan 1, 2008. Ok, back on topic. Like I said before, last year was a banner year for me cycling wise, and I even surpassed my goal for the year. Unfortunately, this month has been a rather dismal month of cycling due to illness, which I can't seem to shake all the way. But, given the situation, I did pretty well and topped off the year just under 8,400 miles. With only one Double and a hand full of centuries this year, I think I did pretty well on the organized cycling front. So, the question remains for what to do in 2008?

Here's the plan (click on titles to follow the link):

Total 2008 miles: 8,800. That's 10% over 2007.

Jan: Lotsa training miles: Shooting for 800 plus for the month, 1 local Century

Feb: Butterfield Double

March: Solvang Double

April: Training carryover, with 1 local Century

May: Davis Double Century, or possibly the Eastern Sierra Double in June

June: LA Wheelmen Grand Tour

July: Training Month with at least 800 miles.

Aug: Desperado Duel Century Option

Sep: HooDoo 500 (50 plus)

Oct: Solvang Fall Double (never done this ride but looks really good)

Nov: Event options open. Looking for 700-800 mile in training.

Dec: Same as November.

Now I guess the question remains can Mozam do all of this? Somebody once said: "Always shoot for the moon, even if you miss, you will still hit the stars."

What's Wrong with This Picture?

2007-12-27T08:42:00.000-08:00

Indeed, what is wrong with the picture above? Well, Mozam is not on that bike and riding it! That's what is wrong with that picture. We are on a "flexible" work schedule this week between the holidays and I can't ride because of this miserable cold that I've managed to acquire. I had a track coach in college that always said, "treat a cold like you would treat an injury." Well, I have taken that advice but by being so prudent, I've decided not to ride, and expose myself to the elements which could make this malady even worse.

So, I thought I would look at the glass half-full and post a little information about a wonderful discovery me and my cycling buddies came across 2-days ago, The Rivers Mountain Trail. Here's a quick blurb from the website:

The River Mountains Loop Trail is Nevada's first endeavor of its kind. Constructed through a combined effort of many of Nevada's resource management agencies, private land owners and citizens, the trail will provide Nevada residents with an outdoor recreation area offering scenic views, plentiful wildlife and the vast beauty only the Mojave can offer.

When completed, the River Mountains Loop Trail will be approximately 35 miles in length and will surround the River Mountains connecting Lake Mead National Recreation Area, Hoover Dam, Henderson, Boulder City and the rest of the Las Vegas Valley, expanding recreational and alternative transportation opportunities for the region's growing population.

I have alluded to the trail a couple of times on some of my past blogs. A couple of days ago several of us discovered that the good folks who put this trail in have completed a whole new section that follows along the west side of Lake Mead. Most of the trail in that section paralells the main road but after a few miles the trail takes a turn and heads back inland where the "old" lake road used to be. Here's a link to the trail map. I gotta tell ya, they did a magnificent job on this thing. The trail is extremely wide and easy to ride on, even on a road bike. We all remarked, "hey this is like mountain biking, but using your road bike instead!" What a great ride!

A couple of pictures of the newly complete section

The Start of it All

2007-12-24T15:01:00.000-08:00

I can feel the sea breeze in this photo: Bellows Beach
Ever wonder how things get started? Well, I was sitting in this very chair on 25 Nov 2005 when I decided to start a photo album for my son. I took on this monumental task because when my 'ole man died back in 1991 I found a bunch of photos of people in his family who I didn't even know. So, that began the journey into the land of scanning, categorizing and organizing hundreds of photos of our family so my son's kids don't have to look at a picture and say, "who the f__k is that." What does that have to do with cycling you ask? Well, while I was thumbing through all our family photos from our days in Hawaii from 1994 to 1997, I came across a few that we took during our very first organized cycling event, the Honolulu Advisor Century ride. And as they say, "that was the start of it all."

Looking back to the North from Hanama Bay and Hawaii Kai area

As I recall, it was a beautiful day, and what day is not beautiful in Hawaii, eh? I bought a Burly Zydeco Tandem back then and thought it was such a great bike. Actually, it was a real POS by today's standards. But hey, we weren't real roadies anyway. We just puttered along the Pearl Harbor bike path and took a few trips around the base on weekends in those days. Anway, like I said, it was a great day and we were really gonna have fun on this one. I remember the routing taking us through downtown Honolulu, up and around Diamond Head, through Hawaii Kai, past Hanama Bay, with the turnaround someplace near Bellows Beach. It was truly an epic ride and probably the reason my son, Keith, has never taken up cycling with me. He learned all about the dreaded bonk monkey and just how grumpy Dad can be when junior decides to ride the tandem instead of pedaling the tandem! Regardless of all of the bad things that happened that day, I only remember how gorgeous the scenery was and how thankful I felt to be part of it all.

The Mighty Burley Zydeco Tandem

The Kid Bonks!

Goals for 2008...Hmmmm?

2007-12-19T11:43:00.000-08:00

Decisions, decisions! Last year was a banner year for me on the bike because I rode my bikes more than 8,000 miles in a single year. Having said that, what do I do next year I thought to myself? I would really like to set the bar at 10,000 miles, but I don’t want to be obsessed with striving to attain such a lofty bar. (Mozam, chin in hand, elbow on desk, looking up and to the right…deep in thought). Some quick math tells me that to attain 10,000 miles next year, I would have to average about 833 miles per month. That’s quite a big nut to crack since I scored an average of close to 700 miles per month this year. So, what’s a guy to do? Set the goal and go for it? Or, pussy out and only go for the recommended 10% increase over the previous goal and use that as a guideline?

I was told once that goals should always be achievable. Why? I have absolutely no idea. Who cares if the goal is achievable anyway. The only person who really cares is you, so why would anyone else give a crap? Ooops, why am I putting this in my blog? Frankly, I think riding 10,000 miles in a year is doable, and if it isn’t I can always change the goal, or lower the bar, so to speak. But hey, isn’t that cheating? Let’s see: I’ve already committed to riding 5 Double Centuries next year with my riding buddies so that’s 1,000 miles already in place. And…if I do another, say, 10 Centuries during the year, i.e., one per month or so, that’s another grand, so theoretically I could make it, right?! I love arm chair logic, don’t you? Get’s you all fired up inside and ready to hit the tarmac with a vengeance. Now, how do I crack that 833 miles per month in the summer time when it’s 100+ °F on the roads around here? Things that make you wanna go hmmmm? I would talk this over with Mrs. Mozam, but when I mention stuff like this she just stares at me with that 30-years-of-marriage, evil-eye and says, “you’re crazy!”

Are You a Poser?

2007-12-14T14:54:00.000-08:00

Is Mozam a Poser? You decide...

I’ve been trying to think of how to put ths into words for some time now. Am I a poser? Well, I guess the first thing to do is define the word, poser. I mean this label could mean just about anything in any certain context. So, let’s limit the context to cycling. I actually did some research on the subject via the wonderful world of Google and found some interesting references, but most of those references had one thing in common: disrespect. Without exception, every use of the word poser included some derogatory meaning or reference to which the description was applied. For example, mountain bikers use the word poser to describe someone who buys a very expensive mountain bike, but never takes the bike out on the trail. Road bikers tend to describe a poser as someone who wears a racing kit but never really races. Since I fall into the road biker category more than into the mountain biker category, I tend to reserve my usage of the word poser as it applies to road biking.

Lisa, The Ultimate Davitamon Lotto Poser

In light of the road biker definition, it is interesting to digress here a little bit and look at this from a national standpoint as well as an international standpoint. It has been my experience that when international fans wear their favorite team kit, others judge the behavior as showing loyalty and/or admiration for their individual country's cycling heroes. Americans on the other hand, especially in the road cycling community, label this same behavior as being a poser, or one who wishes they could, but can’t or doesn’t. I have even heard of the local “racer dudes” complaining about “non-racer dudes” wearing their same team kit. I guess it’s an ego thing or a, “hey, I earned the right to wear this kit and all this poser did was pay for it” attitude.

Posers, Posers, and More Posers!

So, here is my take on the whole poser thing. Personally, I tend to lean towards the international attitude rather than the good ‘ole boy American attitude. I see nothing wrong with wearing a team kit and riding your bike even if you don’t race; as long as the wearing of the kit is in accordance with the organization’s rules. I do, however, have a problem with wearing a kit/jersey that is unique to an event or accomplishment that you did not complete, or not fulfilling the requirements for wearing such a kit or jersey. For example: If you wear a 508 Finisher’s Jersey, you better have finished that race; or I, personally, think you are a poser…and my judgment is derogatory! On a broader note, let’s take a look at a club kit for example. Does wearing the club kit as in Planet Ultra’s case, make you a poser in my definition of the word. Well, yes and no. If you purchased Planet Ultra’s kit and you participated in a Planet Ultra event, whether you finished or not, I don’t think you are a poser. On the other hand, if you just purchased the kit and never at least attempted one of their events, I would call you a poser.

And The Shame of it all...The Poser Look

Here is another extreme poser example and one for which I have incredible distain. There is this guy, let’s just call him poser-boy. On a ride I was on some time back, poser-boy shows up and just starts blowing off at the mouth about this and that. You know the kinda person who just talks louder than the rest of the group so he makes sure everyone notices him, instead of anyone else. Anyway, poser-boy pulls up beside me during the ride and starts his rendition of a, I’m this, and I’m that, one-way conversation. So, being the nice accepting person I am on occaision, I say: “Oh do you race?” Poser-boy says: “Yep, I was a pro for 21 years!” All proud and peacock like. As time goes on, poser-boy starts telling everyone he raced in the Tour de France, Giro d'Italia, etc. He was even on Gerolsteiner’s team, Healthnet’s team and a host of others I can’t even remember, but the list is long, let me tell ya. So, myself and a few others, even a few local racer-dudes start researching poser-boy’s past via the wonderment that is Google. Guess what we find? Zero, Nadda, Zippo, not a thing that even references poser-boy. In fact, I researched Gerolsteiner’s team roster from the team’s inception and they’ve had one American on that team: Levi Liepheimer. And believe me, poser-boy doesn’t look anything like Levi. The sad thing is that poser-boy actually believes the drivel that is coming out of his mouth. Amazing! So, poser-boy get’s my vote for the best extreme poser act I’ve witnessed to date. So, I guess the question is: Are you a poser?

BikeJournal Explodes!!

2007-12-14T12:48:00.000-08:00

Wow! At last count a few minutes ago, BikeJournal had 555 new members just this week. It appears that all the publicity on RoadBikeReview and RoadBikeRider have opened the doors to TONS of new members. I must say, this site has been great fun for me over the past year. I've met some really interesting cyber-friends and have actually met a few in person. I think the success of the site is due mainly to the insistance that all forum posts are "friendly" in nature and the fact that the content stays cycling focused. That fact along with a few other things I like about the site keep me coming back. So, onward cycling soldiers! "Ride, Log, Repeat."

GOALLLLL !!!!!

2007-12-11T11:50:00.000-08:00

In keeping with my tradition of "Going Green" and the fact that Al Gore won the nobel peace prize (for what reason, I have no idea), I thought I would commute to work today on my trusty, Specialized TriCross converted to commuting bike. Actually, I had to commute because I did not get my sorry ass out on the road all weekend! And...Keith's car broke, so I had to lend him mine so he could get to school. As a result of my insightful and philanthropic decision, I surpassed my personal mileage goal for 2007. As you can see from the graphic above, I soared through 8,000 miles for the first time ever. I made it a personal challenge to try and average 700 miles per month this year and the overall average is hovering right at that mark. What's the point you ask? Well, I was told once that if you want to achieve a goal, you first have to write it down. So, I did that. Secondly, I was told that you have to commit to achieving the goal. I did that too! How? By joining one of the neatest sites on the net for cyclists: Bike Journal Bike Journal and all of its thousands of members inspired me to log each and every ride. Their slogan: "Ride, Log, Repeat." By logging my miles, visiting other rider journals, and sharing my experiences on the forum, I not only commited to my goal without actually realizing it, but I made some new and really cool virtual friends along the way. I had toyed with the idea of riding 10,000 miles next year, but that's a big nut to crack! Buy hey, I like cracking big nuts, so I think I'll go for it and just see what happens, eh? Looking at the glass half-full, all I could do is just surpass the 8,000 mile mark I made this year, right?

Ok. Somebody tell me how a fat, former Vice President of the United States won a Nobel Peace Prize anyway? I saw the movie and all it was was a real nice PowerPoint presentation. Heck, at least I'm going green by riding my bicycle to work while this guy jets all over the globe burning up dead dinosaurs, and living in a fuel guzzling house!

Mozam is Doin' Dirt!

2007-12-05T08:04:00.000-08:00

Well after my very first experience with "doing dirt" here in Las Vegas many moons ago, I swore never again! I guess I lied. Some of my road friends talked me into getting the Mtn Bike off the wall, tuned up, and ready for an "easy" ride. All in all, I was kinda excited to try some thing new. Not that my road miles are boring or anything, I was just curious to see how I'd feel about this new type of cycling. So, off the wall came the bike, out came the camel back; and off to the dirt I went.

It was a great day to do dirt, as Mike calls it. Windy as hell, cloudy and cold. All the elements for a reason to stay off the road for sure. We met up at the "beginner" section near Blue Diamond and Cottonwood, two very popular places to "do dirt" around here. We started off with a nice 4 mile loop that had a few challenging climbs and some really nice single track. After the first loop, I guess everybody thought I was doing pretty well, so they decided to "graduate" me to some more technical stuff. Holy crap! All I could do was stare at the trail ahead of me, and try like hell not to hit the rocks. That was tough man! I did not realize how much concentration Mtn Biking takes. And, when you start to bonk a little bit, you get real slow and stupid, that's for sure. I've now officially joined the "doin dirt" ranks because I left some skin out there on the rocks. A little of my right shin, which still hurts like hell, and some off my left elbow. Yeah, I'm a tough dirt man now, so look out!

Mike Pooped a Bee!

2007-11-26T15:06:00.000-08:00

It is 3 days since Turkey Day and I’ve had enough Turkey! How about you? This is also the last day-off before returning to that thing called work, ugh… Today was a magnificent day here in the land of lost wages. So, we thought we’d take a tour around the Lake for the umpteenth-million time. Actually, it was a great day. The local lake ranger Nazi bitches weren’t on post today. Only the nice, courteous, young up-and-comers were there. No doubt because the old guard had seniority, thereby making the young bucks pay their government dues by working a holiday weekend.

In all my days and miles of riding a bike I witnessed something today that is no doubt a first. Mike got stung by a bee today. Well, not stung as in the usual sense. You know, on the arm, leg or torso. No, Mike got stung smack dab in the middle of his tongue! He said he felt something fly into his mouth and immediately closed the old throat sphincter so as not to swallow the unwelcome little pest. Upon, expectorating the remains, he noticed a funny taste and a stinging sensation on his tongue. That wasn’t all bad of course, except for the fact that he had fallen behind and had to ride a good mile before any one of us could help him out. To make matters worse, the little stinger, left behind by the since half-digested culprit, was stuck smack dab in the middle of his tongue and certainly not easy to get to. Since Mike’s wife Lisa was there for emotional support, we drafted her as chief surgeon, or maybe she self-appointed; I got to the accident scene a little after the discovery. Anyway, we all claimed no medical knowledge whatsoever dealing with tongue bee stings. As I fumbled around in my seat bag for my miniature Swiss Army knife tweezers, Lisa performed the most amazing combat field surgery I’ve ever witnessed. With the finesse that only females have using their finger nails, she snapped up that sucker with precision. Be gone pesky little stinger, be gone! Mike was now the prize winner and recipient of a nice swollen welt. Dr. Mozam, me, jumped in with a little expert medical advice and prescribed multiple washings and flushing using the medicinal wonders of Gatorade. Since Mike had no better ideas, he followed Dr. Mozam’s advice and recovered nicely for the rest of the ride.

Drama, it’s just part of life. And…it can be very interesting sometimes. Just when we thought we’d seen enough from our bee sting experience, we had a rather nice encounter on our way out of the lake on the Boulder City side. It appeared that the Bighorn Sheep community spread the word that the GV peleton was coming through and the call went out for all to cheer us on as we made our way up the hill and through town. I quickly, and quite professionally I might ad, whipped out the ‘ole camera and got some really good shots (all of which you can see here and some of which you can see in this Blog entry). As I was snapping away, Sig (Siegfried) said, “hey, I hope they don’t turn on us and ram the bikes.” Suddenly, I got that, “I’m on the wrong side of the lion’s cage door at the zoo” feeling. So, with that thought in mind we inched our way past the herd and made our way quietly up the rest of the climb.

I can’t remember when I had a more interesting day, especially on the bike.

The Mozam's Do Dirt

2007-11-26T07:59:00.000-08:00

Mrs Mozam and Las Vegas Sprawl

The day after Turkey Day: Cold, Windy, and Clear. So, Mrs. Mozam and I decided to take the Mtn Bikes off the wall, where they had been hanging for over 2 years, dust them off and go for a nice local ride. There is a really nice addition to a park nearby with a paved path and a graded dirt path that works its way up the mountains surrounding our neighborhood. They say that variety is the spice of life, and I guess I must agree somewhat. Dirt rides, as my friends say, are a lot of fun and trying something like this does indeed make you feel like a kid again. Since I like my skin attached to my body, and I don't like using volcanic rocks as a cushion to a potential fall, I think I'll just keep this new found fun thing recreational. Kinda like fast hiking only with wheels instead of hiking boots.

Death Valley — Surreal Indeed...

2007-11-20T13:18:00.000-08:00

Surreal is the only word that came to my mind that adequately describes this place. I had not been back to Death Valley since the 2004 Furnace Creek 508 bike race and what a difference three years make. The last time I was here, it was darker than the ace of spades and the wind was blowing at 40 to 50 miles an hour. There was so much dust in the air you couldn't see anything in front of the car; with the exception of few flying tarantulas now and again. So, this past weekend was such a nice surprise: clear skies, no wind at all, and very cool, pleasant temperatures.

We took the North route out of Furnace Creek and headed over to Stove Pipe Wells. What a nice little Oasis out in the middle of nowhere. We spent a few minutes hydrating, eating some food and yaking about this and that. Frank then led us to a nice "little" climb he kept talking about. Well, this nice little climb turned out to be 7.5 miles long with an average of at least 8% grade. Frank and Mike were brave enough to conquer this bad boy on single speeds. Frank was running a 48/16 and Mike was pushing a 49/18. These guys are my heros!

I think the girls had a good time too. Bobbie caught up with Steph about life lived, and the trials and tribulations of being a teenager while us macho men and Lisa took on the climb at a faster pace. All that climbing was not in vain, however. The bomber downhill back to 260 feet below sea level was as Frank described: a real blast! My hat is off to such great friends for convincing Bobbie and myself to join them.

Nelson's Landing — I hate this ride!

2007-11-15T08:40:00.001-08:00

"I've just got to do this climb, come on with me!" Well, as the Nike slogan goes, I just did it. Not that I don't like climbing; on the contrary, I really like climbing at my own pace and enjoying the scenery. Nelsons Landing ride really doesn't have all that much appeal really. You turn down I-93 towards Searchlight and about 8 miles later you find yourself at the Nelson's turnoff. It is about an eight mile grind at 4-5%, then the bomber downhill to the river. The town of Nelson is about 4 miles into the descent and really isn't much to look at. Mostly, a run down mining town from way back. The real treat is the mighty Colorado River. A truly breathtaking view. The only problem is you have to go back up the 8-10% climb for 8.7miles on the way back! So, you just do it...again! Any who, any day on a bicycle is a good day, that's for sure!

Tour de St. George, Utah, 20 Oct 2007

2007-11-11T07:16:00.000-08:00

Cool, clear, and no wind! That’s how I like my riding conditions. But hey, who doesn’t right? Nobody could ask for a better day than this, that’s for sure. 17 of us Nevadan’s took part in the 3rd annual Tour de St. George hosted by Red Rock Bicycle Shop and the gracious townsfolk of St. George. I think most of us were looking for a change this year, and boy did we find a sweet ride in this one. I was already fairly familiar with the St. George area from doing several unofficial rides up there in the past, and finishing the HooDoo 500 one month prior. But, on this ride we discovered new routes and a whole lot of back country not seen before.

The town folk offered up the newly remodeled downtown square as the starting point which showed us a bit of a history while we waited for the starting pistol. I couldn’t help but notice that the original construction on the town square church that started in 1861 and finished up in 1871. Man, ten years to build one building. We have progressed a long way since then…well, come to think of it, maybe not.

As cyclists, I think one common element amongst us in planning for these rides is checking the weather. I’m no different and may even be a bit neurotic about it. I’ve been to Utah many times and more often than not, I’ve been on the severe side of changing weather. So, I knew I should be prepared for just about anything. I’ve been out there on those beautiful deserted back roads, cold and soaked like a rat with no rock to hide under too many times to come up here unprepared. So, on went the arm and knee warmers along with my trusty vest.

We started out heading Southeast out of town and this start was no different than any other Century I’ve been on. Everybody was chomping at the bit, all fired up to burn as many calories in the first 10 miles as they would burn all day. People went racing by like rat’s trying to get to that last hot biscuit. Our first real climb of the day followed shortly thereafter, Telegraph Hill, a climb that put the brakes on a few of the fast rats. And what a special climb it was…just enough 8% grade to get the lactic engine started and quickly up to full power. Rolling gently out and onto the Washington fields, you get that “Back home again in Indiana” smell. That, piggy, horsey, Moomoo kinda smell. State fair, 4H…well, you get the idea. Not great for early in the morning, but reminiscent anyway. Great fun those back roads in Washington, but maybe next year, the smell will subside a little.

Our first “real” stop of day came in Hurricane, pronounced “Hurricun.” Why? I have absolutely no idea. It’s kinda like New Orleans, as the locals would have it, you don’t pronounce the word(s) as they are spelled. It’s just “Nawlins.” I guess living in small towns in Utah makes you speak differently. Great rest stops on this ride by the way! Boy scouts holding your bike while you pee. Tons of food too…most of it not that great for serious cyclists, but there was a really good selection, and even a smattering of Hammer products stood out amongst all the goodies at a few of the stops.

Leaving Hurricun, we promply arrived in La Verkin, gateway to Zion National park. Only this time we skipped the climb up to the Zion plateau and headed into the land of Toquerville. Dr. Dog commented that we just past a sign that said, “drug free community” and now we are going into Toquerville?? “What gives with that?” Toquerville was also the start of a very long grind up to the I-15 frontage road that lead us to bomber down hill run and onto lunch back in Washington. What a great run that was…30 plus miles per hour in multiple paceline teams…a real blast!

I gotta tell ya, after all that climbing and chasing all those fast rats in the first 50 miles or so, I was plenty hungry. In fact, so was everyone else in our little peleton. To our surprise, the ride hosts purchased about 5 giant cooler loads of sandwiches from Subway. The choices were many indeed: Turkey, ham and vegetarian, on both wheat and white, complete with cold drink of your choice and…a bag of chips. Yum, Yum! So good in fact, that Cynthia or group social director ate two and a half sandwiches, which she later paid for dearly on the climb up to Snow Canyon. After lunch, we hopped back on the bikes and headed Southwest towards St. George. The route runs a bit urban but quickly turns Northwest bound on Skyline Drive. Skyline Drive is pretty cool really. The road is pretty good and the scenery is spectacular. On your left, you look down into the mini-metropolis of St. George; and on your right is unspoiled red rock walls and canyons complete with picnic areas, hiking trails and single track. What a great place!

The route takes a right onto Hwy 18 for a bit of a grind up hill for about 7 miles towards the Snow Canyon entrance. The view, once again, is just spectacular as you grind your way up. At about 80 miles or so, Snow Canyon provides a welcomed respite from climbing with a bomber downhill all the way through the park. We had heard about the strong winds picking up at about 2 pm and it was amazing how timely that forecast turn out. Bang, right in the face as we headed Southwest towards Kayenta! Undaunted, we battled our way in and through Kayenta for the final rest stop of the day. Kayenta is a unique community in that all the housing is nestled into the existing landscape in such a way that you can’t even tell that the houses are really there. Green thinking is definitely the mindset in this unique little community. Turning back due east we were greeted with our friend the wind again, but this time the wind became a staunch ally the whole way back to St. George.

I’ve often said, “this was a great ride” but the Tour de St. George is by far one of the best events I’ve had the pleasure to experience. The organization, support, and route were just top notch. I’ll be back next year for sure!

One Gear, 100 Miles

2007-11-06T12:42:00.000-08:00

Well, we finally did it. 100 miles on a single speed bike. We did not have a lot of takers for this ride, but the ones that showed had a marvey time nonetheless. I've often wondered why anyone would want to ride a bike with just one gear, but now I'm enchanted and enlightened all at the same time. All in all, I think it makes you a better cyclist. Your cadence is slower, but much more deliberate and constant which I guess translates into a better application of power. Whatever it is, it sure is fun, and I look forward to my next hundy on my Single Speed. Perhaps a Double? Nah, at least not right now.

Stats:
101.03 miles
05 hours 57 minutes 47seconds
+3624 feet of climbing
16.9 mph average speed

You do the HooDoo?

2007-09-25T15:31:00.001-07:00

It’s 4:15 in the morning some where near Loa, Utah, and I can’t find my gall-darn arm warmers in the back of this cramped pickup truck we call our support vehicle. Then someone says, “ya know, we are outta gas and probably won’t make it to Panguitch if we keep going!” Damn, I still can’t find my arm warmers and I’m getting’ pretty irritated because it is dark, 43 °F outside and I’m in the bucket for the next pull. Then someone says, “how many miles can you get out of this thing on a quarter tank of gas anyway?” Suddenly, my arm warmers don’t seem all that important and I start doing math in public. Although there wasn’t much public up at this hour on a Sunday! Ever tried to do mental math after 24 hours of no sleep and about 100 miles of intervals under your butt? Heck, I couldn’t even remember my own teammates’ names, much less do basic math at 4am in the middle of nowhere. Sound like a bad dream? Unfortunately for us, this was reality, and this was Ultra Cycling reality. The never ending curve balls that crop up like this, in an event like this, put in place just to test your mental resolve. You see, Ultra Cycling is not about the fastest to the line, although that is the ultimate goal; Ultra Cycling is about survival, will to sustain, and stamina to keeping going, no matter what until crossing the finish line. Ah, my arm warmers finally! Stuffed under a previously used sweaty towel. Gee, could it get any better than this? Now…where’s my water bottle?

I’ve heard some say that individual participation in Ultra Cycling is the “real” deal, and the team aspect doesn’t really live up to the essence of the word Ultra. Nonetheless, staying awake for 36+ hours; doing endless intervals; and pulling support duties for your teammates all day and all night falls into my category of Ultra Cycling so, to me, that’s the real deal!

As with any major event involving several people…in our case teammates…planning is essential to success. I’m a stickler for details and believe that Murphy was right, “If anything can go wrong it will.” Now, this is not a negative thought process by any means. To the contrary, this thought process involves taking a close look at all the things that need to get done before race day, and engaging in forethought as to how certain unplanned inputs may affect the team and overall strategy. In simple terms: why build in a level of ass-pain that could have been avoided before the event even begins. There is a wealth of information out there on planning, etcetera, on various Ultra Cycling websites that address this very issue so let’s move on and get to this year’s HooDoo.

Originally, our plan was to ride one hour intervals and vary that plan based on how we felt and what effect the weather and terrain would have on our ability to keep such a pace. Frank (the team’s Italian Stallion) talked with the race organizers at the team meeting and they offered up a different rotating strategy that would possibly make our effort more efficient and pace faster. After talking the suggested strategy over, we decided to adopt the idea with the caveat of making modifications later in the race as necessary. The idea was pretty simple actually: we would break into two teams of two and rotate 20 minute pulls each, doing 3 rotations, and then swap out with the other two teammates. During your “downtime” you would drive and navigate; make water bottles for your buds; fuel yourself, clean yourself; try to find your gall-darn arm warmers; and at the same time, try to stay awake. All of which can be somewhat challenging, especially very late at night. We decided that since Frank was indeed better looking in spandex than the rest of us that he would lead off and I would be number two man. One thing I will mention here because this is the place that I noticed the effect of starting “uphill” the most. Starting off cold, uphill is a bad plan. For one, your body is not warmed up, and for another, the lactic acid hits you right away after sitting for awhile and then suddenly sprinting up a hill. So, if possible, I highly recommend starting off the next rider on either: a downhill portion, a flat portion of road, or on a crest of a hill. Since there were no restrictions on rider handoff’s in the HooDoo, I recommend using this rider exchange technique as the rule rather than the exception.

Stretching out my legs on the downhill into Hurricane I passed a couple of riders and started my climb up to the plateau for our first southeasterly run. This is where I realized that this race was gonna be an ordeal. The ‘ole Garmin kept telling me the grade was 8%, then 10% and a couple of times telling me 12%. Yeah baby, pain and more pain, but this speed bump was only a glimpse of what was to come. A couple of pulls later I then realized what else was in store for us: wind, tons of it whirling out of the southwest at a wicked speed. On the upside though, each of us got a nice push as we turned eastbound while the sun rapidly set over our shoulders in the west. This is the time of day when reality sinks in, and you realize you are in for a very long night. When everybody else is having dinner and getting ready to watch American Idol reruns on TV, you are out on the road, inching up the climbs and ticking the pedals over one stroke at a time.

By now it was my turn to “refresh” myself so I thought I’d step into nature’s powder room, relieve some serious pressure and enjoy the setting sun. As I came up from the road-side ditch that doubled as my powder room, I noticed an RV trying to make a very tight turn onto a side-road (I was standing on) for a place to wait for their next rider exchange. All I can say is that the next sound I heard was akin to that of an imploding submarine as it succumbed to the pressure of the deep sea. The RV decided to mate with a guardrail. Thankfully, I was finished with my business because my reaction to such a sound so close by could have resulted in a very messy scene. To top things off, one of NUBS 11 year old riders went by me as I walked back to the truck and shouted a cheerful, “are we having fun yet?” comment. “Just wait you little blankitty, blank, you’ll be old like me someday!” I thought.

We made it to Bryce Canyon with just enough daylight left to take in some of the scenery. What spectacular views you get in this part of the country at sunset. Red rocks are much redder, and the contrasts with the surrounding terrain are amazing at this time of day. Well, after Bryce, I kinda of fell into a space time continuum. I couldn’t tell you if we were headed east, northeast or what, and I couldn’t have cared less what time it was. We just settled into our routine of driving, eating, riding, drinking, getting ready to ride, and supporting other teammates. I’ll comment here on another aspect of team riding in events like this. Organization in the support vehicle is key at night. Digging through storage bins, coolers, and backpacks while crawling through the side windows of a pickup truck was not optimum. But, it was a level of ass-pain we had built for ourselves and now we had to deal with it.

We kept a pretty good log of what rider was on the road and at what mileage point they had started so we could keep the leap froging technique going in the darkness. The rules stated that you could use this leap froging technique as long as the rider had all the reflective tape on the bike and there were two independent lighting systems on the front and back of the bike. I highly recommend leap froging because following a rider for hours at slow speeds is a death march for the driver and the poor sap who has to stay awake and navigate.

I already alluded to Loa, Utah (Time Station 4) in the first paragraph so I won’t go there again. But, if anybody can find a pay phone in that town, please let the race organizers know where it is. We hunted high and low with every light source we had and couldn’t find it. We did, however, find gas. Thank you Texaco!

The Essence of HooDoo

Finally finding my arm-warmers, I took the next pull which, oh by the way, was another climb! This one was steep and never seemed to end. I passed a single rider on my way up and as I passed, he let out this really weird yelp. Kinda like a Coyote after a kill. I just gave an encouraging nod as an acknowledgement and pressed on with my pull. About the time we loaded my bike up for the umpteenth time, I noticed dawn’s early light peeking through the horizon in the east. Hooray! We made it through the night and you could feel the morale of the team pickup slightly as the sun rose steadily skyward.

High morale faded to seriousness again as we turned south towards Panguitch. The rode dumps out of the mountains and into what I called the Panguitch valley. The downside of heading south was the fact that we were headed directly INTO the wind. As the hours passed, the speed of the wind got increasingly stronger and made riding seriously difficult at times. About 10 miles out from Panguitch, we decided to cut our pulls down to about 5-6 miles a piece and rotate as a four person team vice two two-person teams. We figured this would be a better and more efficient use of our waning energy levels. For some reason Panguitch seemed like a milestone in this race. I felt making it to Panguitch was the point of no return, and getting there would give us a little salvation that we could indeed finish this race.

What we did not realize, however, was that the climb to Panguitch Lake and further onto Cedar Breaks would be a real beeeaaatch! Given any other day, with plenty of rest, and less wind, this 34 mile climb would have been a whole lot easier in my humble opinion. What we did not realize as well, was the fact that we were climbing from around 7,000 feet to 11,000 feet by the time we got to Cedar Breaks. I kept wondering off and on, “why is this so hard?” Duh! About ten miles into this leg, we decided to break things down even further and do 2-mile pulls, swapping out as a four person team once again. This worked out great! I was actually surprised at how fast the next 24 miles went. We were able to keep our average speed up and keep the psychological effect of really long climbs in check.

Boy was I glad to see that left turn at Cedar Breaks leading to Hwy 14. I swapped out with Frank, and then Mike took us all the way down the bomber downhill to Hwy 14. I think I had as much fun as Mike did on that downhill. Somehow, after all this riding I could “smell” the barn and we were finally gettin’ there! Steph took Mr. Toad’s wild ride down Hwy 14 into Cedar City. I kept thinking on our white-knuckled drive down Hwy 14 that I was really glad we didn’t have to ride up that road. That would have been one helluva long agonizing climb!

Hot damn! Cedar City and one more checkpoint behind us. I went up the road on Hwy 56 while the rest of the team did a little shopping for provisions in Cedar City. All was good until I got out into the open desert. Then bam! The worst wind I have ever ridden in. It was blowing so hard across the road that I got blown into the gravel twice. The sand was ripping across the road so hard that it was stinging my legs…and…the road was gradually starting a pitch upwards into the mountains in front of me. I’d been on the bike for over an hour and I was whipped and very glad to see my relief show up.

We were about 30 hours into this race and we had about 80 miles to go. It sure was a great feeling to see our mileage approach the 500 mark. What another great boost in morale. Well, at least for me anyway. At this point we maintained our 4-person rotation strategy using 6-7 mile pulls this time. Something worth mentioning here: when it is your turn to ride, make sure you take a route slip and cell phone with you. Don’t assume the follow vehicle will be there at all times, or catch up to you in a timely manner. We had a small hiccup on this part of the ride that could have potentially cost us some time, but as things worked out, we fixed everything and stayed on track.

The left turn south onto Hwy 18 was a blessing. Not only were we making our last run towards St. George, we were heading back into the mountains, and out of the wind! The sun was going down and I was having déjà vu all over again. Damn! I can’t find my arm warmers again and I’m in the bucket for another pull! Making it to Vejo was great because it meant we had 7 miles to go to the last checkpoint, Snow Canyon. Apart from my rear-tire blowout at 45+ mph, and the two failed attempts at putting another tire on my wheel, the feeling that this race was almost done was a very welcome feeling indeed.

The Holy Grail!

Finally, Snow Canyon! Our last checkpoint. Hooray! Frank and Mike decided to take the truck to the finish so Steph and I took the last pull of 15 miles or so down Snow Canyon and on into St. George for the finish. The weather warmed up significantly which seemed weird to me because it was 9:30 at night. This was a stark contrast from 24 hours earlier. I took off elusive arm warmers and put them in my back jersey pocket never to be lost again. Well, at least in this race! It was a great finish to a very long ride. A big thanks and congratulations to my teammates for a job very well done indeed. See you next year!

Howard comes to Vegas baby!

2007-04-24T10:19:00.000-07:00

Mozam, Howard, and FastEddie at the Windy Summit

I thought I’d update the blog today with a little ride report from our windy and challenging ride around the Red Rock Loop here in west Las Vegas. Three of us from Bike Journal, an online miles tracking and cycling discussions forum, headed out on what was to be a rather challenging ride. Our guest to Las Vegas, Howard as he likes to be called, flew into town with his lovely bride, Baltic Tiger, and were staying at the Red Rock Casino and Resort. FastEddie and I met up with Howard in the hotel lobby at the appointed time and started out on our journey. The weather was a bit ‘iffy and looked rather threatening. Not unusual for this time of year, but rather ominous for a bike ride, nonetheless. Right out of the parking lot we were hit with some pretty strong winds, but our spirits were high I was looking forward to some climbing. We chatted for about 6 miles to the park entrance talking about all our Bike Journal friends and how the site has brought a lot of like minded people together.

For those unfamiliar, the Red Rock climb is about 6 miles of pain, but a good kinda pain. That’s the only way to describe it. And, today, we had a 20+ mph headwind all the way up to make climbing even more enjoyable. At one point, we encountered a gusting side wind that literally moved me 5 feet sideways! After finally making the summit we took in the view, which is spectacular by the way, rehydrated and refueled for what turned out to be quite a spirited descent. All in all, it was a great ride despite the wind. The sun came out on our way back from Blue Diamond and the nasty wind abated long enough to let us get back to the hotel in quick order.

You can checkout the ride profile here: Red Rock Loop Stats

Solvang Double Century, March 2007

2007-04-03T14:50:00.000-07:00

What another awesome event put on by Planet Ultra! After bailing out of last year's rain fest, I decided to take this one on again this year. My mileage and training were a little better anyway, so I was looking forward to the challenge. I've written about this double before and described all the scenery and how wonderful the area is so this time I thought I would focus on my thoughts before, during and after the ride. Warning: Not all the words in this report are positive and filled with uplifting descriptive metaphors.

The Beginning of Pain

Originally, I wanted to do this thing solo and just pickup ride partners and acquaintances along the way who may be riding my pace. Well, the guys I ride with here in Vegas now and again wanted to get together and "ride together." The problem with "riding together" is that phenomenon I like to call rider’s agenda. You see, no matter how matched you are in ability, someone, or everyone, has a different idea of what the ride is supposed to be. These guys like to ride fast, which I enjoy as well, but not for 12 hours and 200 freakin’ miles. I voiced my concern and stated that we should just enjoy the ride, forget about making time, and take in some scenery. It was boldly stated, "We'll just stick together and ride in our own little group." So, I bought off on this carpet-bagging bit of rhetoric and I paid for it dearly.

One of Many Chases!!

From the git-go, it was horses out of the barn, or horses back to the barn, whichever you prefer. Not wanting to get dropped, I hung on dearly to the flashing red light in front of me and I kept thinking to myself that this was going to be a long hard day at this pace and just what in hell were we doing!? F!@#! Not a good way to start a Double Century! I soon found myself no longer interested in the scenery, smelling the flowers, or enjoying the early morning sunshine. All I could do was look at the wheel, or butt in front of me. Why not just drop off and do your own ride, you ask? Well, I think it is a pack thing, like dogs for instance, with humans, especially males. We still have not bred that mentality out of our DNA for some reason. It also has a lot to do with male ego or some other undiagnosed messed-up mental malady. I just don't know for sure. So, I chased; they chased; and then we all chased some more. By the time I got to Morro Bay (the 100 mile point) 5 hours and 12 minutes later, and chasing like hell after being dropped on two earlier climbs, I was pissed and I had had enough of this bullshit. "We will all stay together" should be translated into: "You better keep up, or you can hang out your garage sale sign and lie down with the other road kill."

Slowest Freakin' Speed all Day!

I guess I was more pissed at myself for letting this happen, because after all, it was my own decision to ride with these knuckleheads. Gone was the anticipation and potential joy of having a really good time; gone was the smell of the flowers along the way, and gone was the enthusiasm for just riding my freakin' bike! All I wanted to do was get off the damned thing and find a cool place to sit and have a beer. What a waste! I even toyed with the idea of just pulling over, calling my wife for a ride in, and chalking the whole thing up as another wasted moment in life. I guess I kinda snapped or had an epiphany of sorts at, or around, the 120 mile point. It was like I stepped outside of myself and took a long hard look at this pitiful, unhappy, human called a bike rider and realized that this was just plain stupid. I've had this feeling before. I call it the, "this is just plain stupid" point. It is like an invisible line in the sand that I cross over and realize the time is now for a change. Kinda like that song with the lyric that goes: "If you're tired of fighten battles with yourself, change your mind." Well, at Shell Beach and 120 miles later, that's exactly what I did. I sat up, slowed my cadence and watched the train of hammerheads pull away. A really strange thing happened then. I seemed to have stepped back into myself and suddenly got this feeling of total relief.

The Look of Joy Returning

As I slowed down, my body became totally relaxed, the pain left my legs, and I noticed how good the cool sea breeze felt as it gently made its way through the hair on my arms. Funny what you notice when you actually take the time to pay attention. Shortly after leaving Shell Beach, I stopped at a convenience store about 8 miles from Guadalupe and while paying for my water, had a great conversation with the friendly cashier about all kinds of stuff. Armed with a great feeling and new attitude, I hopped back on the bike and came to the realization that, "Ya know, I really am gonna enjoy the rest of this ride!"

Riding My Ride!!

The garmin deciding to go "nite, nite", I had no idea how fast I was going or what my mileage was and I couldn't have cared less. I just got into a groove and stayed there all the way to Los Alamos. There were a few moments of friendly conversation with other riders that passed me and that I passed along the way, but otherwise I just stayed in my zone taking in the whole Zen kind of experience. The climb up and over Drum Canyon sucked as always and the road offered no relief going up or going down for that matter. They really should pave that thing, because it is about 6 miles of agonizing downhill all the way to the highway that finally leads you back to Solvang. The sun was setting ever so slowly casting its color changing effect on the landscape with every moment that passed. Turning onto the highway back to Solvang, I could feel the wind at my back and I was feeling good again.

The Road to Guadalupe

After 175 miles I was feeling surprisingly strong and the anticipation of the finish gave me a jolt of enthusiasm. I got passed by a tandem and some other wheel sucker going through Buelton with a terse, "On your left, on your left" grunt. But, somehow I managed to catch them both just before the little quarter-mile climb into Solvang. I don't know whether it was the good endorphins or the final release of frustration from a long hard day, but I put it in the big ring and hammered by them like the Starship Enterprise at warp 9. Damn, that felt good! At the finish line, the usual throngs of Mozam's fan club were waiting at the podium for me with flowers and champagne, but I brushed them off for a hot shower and a subway sandwich instead.

Stats: 193 miles, 12 hours, 00 minutes, 23 seconds total time. Riding time unknown. First 100 miles: 5 hours, 12 minutes, 00 seconds.

A Long Hard Day's Reward!

White Mountain Tour — 8, 9 July 2006

2006-12-28T08:22:00.000-08:00

Pinetop, Arizona

Ever get one of those thoughts that you would like to do something different in terms of cycling events? Well, that’s what we thought about our out-of-state cycling excursions. Typically, we have always selected California or Utah as our out-of-state location for cycling. This year we decided to take on Arizona and find a nice ride that suited our needs. GABA (Greater Arizona Bicycling Association) puts on the White Mountain Tour every year in July, and from the description I found on the internet this looked like just the ride we were both looking for: A nice ride through mountains and small towns.

For those unfamiliar, GABA is a group of bicycle clubs throughout the state of Arizona that have banded together to help each other put on cycling events and support each other in their various cycling activities. This is a great organization because each club pitches in to support cycling activities of other member clubs; a unique concept that has apparently been working quite well over the years.

The tour starts at the Hon Dah Resort and Casino located just south of the town of Pinetop and inside the Apache Indian reservation. Pinetop is nestled into the Sitgreaves national forest located in the Northeast corner of the state about 70 miles south of I-40.

Leaving I-40 for the drive down highway 77, one gets to see just what the high plains desert is really about. Actually, the Arizona high desert is quite beautiful as it transitions from a lifeless landscape to thick pine and spruce forest. Pinetop, as in its name, is quaintly situated within the tall pines and leaves you with the impression that the town is smaller than its actual size.

On Saturday morning, the folks from GABA were staged behind the Casino ready for rider check-in and late registration. We signed in, dropped off our overnight bags and got the bikes ready for the tour. What surprised me at this point was how cool the air felt at this altitude. Pinetop sits at about 6000 ft and the temperature ranges from the 60’s during night and early morning hours to the mid 80’s later in the day at this time of year, quite a difference from the hair-blower temperatures we were used to here in Las Vegas.

Since this was a tour instead of your basic Century ride, we opted for singles, and I decided to use my commuter bike equipped with a larger pack from Detours and mountain bike pedals. We figured we would need the extra storage space for some emergency rain gear and a few other essentials. This turned out to be a good choice because we eventually needed the extra space to stow the warmer clothes once the temperature reached the 80’s. The mountain bike shoes were also a good choice as we were always walking through gravel to get to the SAG stations along the way.

The first day of the tour takes you on a 67 mile ride from the Hon Dah Casino outside Pinetop to the small co-located towns of Springerville and Eager located northeast of Pinetop and very close to the Arizona New Mexico border. Leaving the casino parking lot around 0715, we retraced our steps towards Pinetop and were diverted off highway 260 to a parallel back road that eventually dropped us off onto highway 60. The right turn onto highway 60 would then lead us on an easterly route all the way to Eager. Shortly after leaving the casino we came upon a nice couple riding a tandem and stayed with them until we reached highway 60. The nice thing about these tours is all the great people you meet along the way. The pace is a little less intense and everyone seems to be a bit more laid back and friendly.

What is particularly interesting about the scenery during this entire stretch towards Eager is the transition of foliage from relatively barren land to very large Juniper trees to fairly large Pine trees all in the span of a few miles. Another noticeable difference at this altitude, aside from the lack of air, is how blue the sky appears. There seems to be very little air pollution in this part of Arizona and the altitude makes the sky appear a very deep blue. This combined with the white puffy clouds that form in the early morning make for quite a picturesque high-plains desert scene, almost post card like for sure.

Heading easterly the climbing begins with a few upward sloping rollers. Our small peloton stays together for a short while then separates into a few smaller groups with Bobbie and I staying with the front group of about 6 riders. Highway 60 is a two lane road with a relatively nice shoulder that has been ruined with ADOT’s installation of those bloody rumble strips. What we found particularly annoying about Arizona’s rumble strips was the decision to move them so far to the right of the white line. In just about all cases, ADOT placed the strips 6 to 8 inches into the shoulder leaving the cyclist with only about 12 inches of useable riding space on the outside of the road. In other cases the strips would weave unexpectedly further into the shoulder leaving only about 6 inches of useable riding space. Several times we were forced into the road to avoid riding ourselves off the right side and into a culvert. Oh well, I guess things are here to stay so we will have to adapt.

At around 35 miles or so there are more upward sloping rollers that lead to the first SAG station just outside the small town of Vernon. The Midway Station convenience store graciously hosted this stop with food and refreshments provided by the GABA support crew. At this point, the weather held out, but we could see some thunderstorms building to the southeast, threatening our near perfect ride so far. We shared some ride stories and pleasantries with some of the other riders for awhile and then topped off our water bottles for the final push into Eager. Just before leaving, we struck up a conversation with a real Arizona cowboy and his wife about the changing weather patterns he has observed in the past few years. Evidently, this part of Arizona in the past received quite a bit of snow fall in the winter months. According to the cowboy, most of that snowfall has withered off due primarily to the changing weather patterns in the area. All in all, he bid us farewell and wished us a safe and happy journey. I certainly wish all those cowboys who drive those big four-wheelers were as nice and pleasant. I found that the rudest drivers on these roads to be the good ‘ole boys who drive the big gas guzzling trucks.

On the way out of Vernon and onto “Halfway Hill” you are greeted by a very nice but short lived downhill run. After this the climbing begins in earnest. The climb isn’t really all that bad and most of the road pushes upward at 6% grade and in some spots ranges upward to 8%. About halfway up, I noticed some thunder and lightening moving its way from the south towards the summit of our climb. I figured we would probably out pace the storm but my assumption was a very poor miscalculation. Riding on ahead of Bobbie, I noticed Mr. Phoenix Athletic Club coming up along side of me on his “fixie” bike. This guy looked more like a weight lifter or wrestler than a cyclist. He was breathing very heavy and trying very hard to pass me as we matched cadence up the mountain. This guy’s calves looked like upside down bowling pins…they were that huge! Shortly before the summit, I let ‘ole bowling-pin legs have his victory while I settled into a nice casual pace for the rest of the climb. Reaching the summit at 7550 ft, this is where things started to get dark, and cold. The GABA folks were kind enough to put a water stop at the top and I noticed all the volunteers were donning rain gear one by one. About the time Bobbie rolled up, the rain started and the thunder boomed. We hung around long enough to get our vests back on and joined up with a large group from the Phoenix Metro Bike Club. Trying in vain to beat the downpour we all lined up single file and raced our way down the mountain. For about 8 miles we cruised very rapidly in a desperate attempt to ride through the storm. I find that the hardest thing to do while riding at high speed through the rain is to be able to see. Windshield wipers on my glasses would have been ideal for sure. There is just something special about breaking out of a cold driving rain storm into warm welcoming sunshine. The feeling takes me back to my childhood when on those really hot, muggy days I would jump through the sprinklers and run back out into the sun to get warm. I laughed and told Bobbie, “I feel refreshed” with a big grin on my face. She just looked back and said, “You’re crazy.”

Off to the southwest we spied another downpour moving our way. Once again, we made a vain attempt to out run the shower, so we finally gave up and just enjoyed the short but intense bath. We dried off under another welcome bit of sunlight and met up with the Phoenix riders who were stopped at an intersection to take off and stow their rain gear. For the last push of the day, we met up with another nice tandem pair and blasted the last six miles into Eagar.

Day one stats:
Distance: 63.63
Time: 3 hours, 32 minutes, 28 seconds
Average speed: 17.97
Climbing: 3,363 ft.

It appears that we arrived in Eager just in time because the skies opened up with a vengeance all night long and drenched the small Arizona town with thunderstorm after thunderstorm. I was almost afraid to look outside the next morning fearing we were in for a very miserable return to Hon Dah. Much to my relief, the skies the next morning appeared clear and blue with not a cloud in sight. The temperature was a refreshing 60 degrees and would remain that way well into morning hours. Satisfied with a good breakfast and all packed up, we left our humble accommodations at the Best Western and started on our return journey. The route slip was a little misleading as to the amount of climbing on this day as we were soon to find out. Basically, the route is pretty simple from here: Proceed up the street to highway 260, turn west and keep going until you hit Hon Dah! It takes about a nanosecond to be smack dab in the middle of the wide open spaces once you turn west on highway 260. Amazingly, on the north side of the road all you can see is rolling barren high desert while on the south side of the road there is juniper forest and pine trees gently rolling their way up to the mountains.

We seemed to have left at the optimum time because we came upon several other riders also starting their final push towards Hon Dah. Because the terrain is rather barren at this point you can see the road for miles ahead as it creeps slowly upward. Ten miles or so into the ride is where GABA conveniently forgets to mention the 8% to 10% climb you encounter. It is short but steep. Now, this little climb really isn’t all that bad except for the fact that you are about 8500 ft up at this point and the air is a little thin! Bobbie and I diligently motored up at 7 to 8 mph and were greeted by a nice headwind at the top. It appears that we have climbed up and onto a high-plains plateau that leads into the Apache Indian reservation. Apart from the entrance signs, you can always tell when you enter the reservation, there are no buildings and no sprawl of any kind, just unspoiled wide open scenery…the way it is supposed to be. The terrain and foliage change dramatically up here, gone are the juniper trees; replaced by tall pines lining the road on each side ahead. About 14 miles into the route, GABA positioned a SAG stop and it couldn’t have come at a better time. Gone was the fuel from breakfast and we both needed to rest the legs a bit after a big day yesterday. We struck up a great conversation with two ladies who flew all the way from Australia to do this ride. They were both riding Bike Fridays and it was fun to talk bike setup, gearing and tires. Apparently, they were familiar with the routing because they told us that we had one last butt kicker of climb ahead. With that, we bode farewell to our new found friends and pressed further into the forest. Yep, they were right. There is was, a 6% climb meandering its way up and into even more dense forest. About 45 minutes later the road leveled off and emptied out onto yet another plateau, and we could see several ski runs off into the distance to the southwest of our route. We had finally reached the summit of our journey for the day and it was nice to get back up to cruise speed. We formed a nice little peloton of about 4 riders and stuck with them to an unexpected SAG stop situated at the start of our final descent back to Hon Dah. This stop proved to be rather popular with the crowd as it appeared that everyone who started before us and a few who arrived after us stopped in for some much need refueling. It was also nice that the forest service put nice toilet facilities out here in the middle of no where!

The final segment of the tour from here is mostly downhill with a few short rollers thrown in just to keep you honest. Again, the route ducks into the forest and stays that way all the way back to Hon Dah. After all that climbing, the bomber downhill runs were a nice respite. Even at this altitude, we hit 30+ mph with little or no effort all the way back. Hon Dah Casino seems out of place as it just pops out of the forest all of a sudden. We rolled into the back parking lot without a hitch, parked the bikes and picked up our luggage at the appointed drop-off point. Shortly after our return, the original tandem couple who we tagged up with at the beginning of the ride rolled up along side our car. We talked for quite awhile about other rides GABA puts on and it was nice to make some new riding friends. All in all, this was a great ride and fun event. One we will do again next year for sure.

You can see more pictures here

Day two stats:
Distance: 39.59
2 hours, 39 minutes, 09 seconds
Average speed: 14.93
Climbing: 2,497 ft

Kent and Bobbie Costin

Nipton Loop Ride, 25 Feb 06

2006-12-21T13:28:00.000-08:00

What a great ride! The day was perfect, the route was great, and the company doesn't get any better for sure. Several Nubblets, and wanna be Nubblets, met up in the Brooklyn Bagel parking lot at 7am sharp and departed on what would turn out to be a enlightening journey through scenic Southern Nevada and Southern California. Scott Dakus led us out two-by-two through Green Valley, up Horizon Ridge to Henderson and on over railroad pass to the long lonely road to Searchlight. A few folks ventured out earlier and braved the cold while meeting the group near Searchlight or on the road to Nipton. As always, Stan "Cowboy" Masters immediately went to the front and set the initial pace for the group. Albeit, things were rather mellow in the beginning, but the pace and heartbeats gradually picked up all the way back to Henderson. It was nice to see Barry and Karen Lasko come out for the ride. Although Barry didn't stay with us long, Karen showed us her Ironman stamina by staying with us the whole way and even whoppin our butts up some really long climbs.

For those unfamiliar with the road to Searchlight and Nipton, Hwy 93 descends for a long way into a rather far-off dry lake bed northwest of Boulder City. The amazing thing about this descent is the change in temperature. The temperature started out at 57 °F at railroad pass and dropped to 44 °F by the time we got to the edge of the dry lake bed. About the time we hit the middle of the dry lake bed, the evil flat menace struck one of us. Scott sent the main group on ahead while he and a few others assisted in the repair. So, we proceeded on at a pretty good clip while at the same time picking up a light tailwind. Once again, Cowboy jumped on the front and jacked up the pace to keep us honest. The road from the dry lake bed all the way into Searchlight is a deceiving and constant climb until about 2 miles outside of the city. I guess if you don't like desert landscape, you would probably call these junk miles because there really isn't much to look at with the exception of a few Joshua trees, the occasional road kill, or someone else's backside. For me however, the experience is a little surreal. The experience is like one of those old Twilight Show episodes. The road seems to go on forever and ever to an endless horizon, and all you can hear is droning sound of your panting along with the wind whistling through your helmet.

This might be a good place to address hydration and nutrition for these long rides. If you haven’t read Scott's article on the subject. You can find his article on the GVC main website under the NUBS link. Personally, I think hydration kinda speaks for itself and most people are pretty smart about drinking when they need to. Nutrition on the other hand is a little different for most people. If you haven't been on a ride with Cowboy at the helm, eating while on the bike is pretty tough. First off, there are very few if any stops. Secondly, the pace is rather high and it is tough enough to breath, much less eat. So, here is what I've learned when riding in a faster group on a long ride. Eat and drink when the opportunity presents itself, even if you don't want to. That is, when you come off the front of the paceline and go to the back. Drink, eat and stretch, in that order. Take advantage of the draft and do all the things you could not otherwise do while in the middle of the pack, or up front. The other thing I look for is a break in the pace. Not everyone can go fast all the way, all of the time. These gaps are strategic moments to suck down some water and nutrition. Here are some fun facts from my experience and from the folks at Hammer Nutrition. I tend to burn about 35 to 38 calories per mile, or about 560 to 580 calories per hour, depending on the Cowboy DEFCON level. Generally speaking, your body can only metabolize about 240-250 calories per hour. So, based on that you can see you are at a disadvantage from the get go. I guess the point is you have to learn to eat, or drink on the bike and figure out what works best for you. Now back to the ride.

Once we crested over the last climb before entering Searchlight that magic nutrition moment hit me and I wolfed down a whole banana. I kinda got on the backside of the nutrition power curve at this point and man did that thing taste good! Munching away much like a dog with a new found treat, I couldn't help but notice what greets you when pedaling through Northern Searchlight suburbia. Trailers! Tons of them! I'll tell ya, if tornados ever come to Nevada, they will naturally be drawn to Searchlight for sure. Anyway, the road to Nipton actually intersects Hwy 93 just prior to the Searchlight main drag so we missed the bustling downtown metropolis altogether. The road to Nipton is surprisingly just like the road to Searchlight! What a shock! All you see is a straight line cutting through the endless population of Joshua trees and a very long climb at what appears to be the horizon. Surprisingly, the pace was rather nice for about the first ten miles or so. We exchanged minor pulls, mostly two by two until the start of the climb. I looked back a few times to see if Scott and the gang had made any ground on us, but the glance back looked just like the picture up ahead. More road with nothing on it.

About halfway through our last climb before the downhill into Nipton, Dave and Cowboy decided to play a game of cat and mouse. The rest of us were content with our pace and the realization that we still had about 85 more miles to ride. Just a few moments later, I felt this rush of air and saw this blur of color blow past me just prior to reaching the summit. It was Scott showing us how the big boys climb mountains. He had been hammering the pace by himself all the way from Searchlight, about 20 miles, to catch up to us for the final descent into Nipton. The downhill into Nipton was a great reward for all our hard work so far. The road is fairly nice and you can see what seems like all of the desert of Southern California on your way down. The little oasis of Nipton sits about three quarters of the way down to the bottom of the valley. Entering Nipton is kinda like going back to the old West in a way. The buildings sure do look like they are from that era. They come complete with hitchin' posts to tie up your tired and thirsty steed. In our case however, the tired thirty steeds happened to be us humans! And to my surprise, what else does Nipton have? Trailers, lots of them! And most are mounted with Satellite dishes. Our stop there was a great respite and the convenience store seemed to have everything for being out in the middle of literally no where. You can even by a lotto ticket for a chance to win the 256 million!

After waiting for quite awhile for the rest of the group, four of us split off to tackle the final leg of our journey. Scott gave us some directions and advice for crossing the very large dry lake bed, but we decided to take the long climb up to I-15 instead. The rest of the road was about as one might expect for California in the middle of the desert. Dog crap! Full of potholes, cracks and rocks! I thanked Arnold many times along this section. Making our way around the man-made obstacle course we started up the long climb to I-15. Now, I must say this is a nasty little, or rather big, climb. I figured the best way tackle this bad boy was to get in a groove and just spin as best I could. The entrance to I-15 isn't as bad as you might think. The shoulder is fairly wide and the road isn't all that bad on the downhill. Don't be fooled, however. About the time you hit the Yates Well Road off ramp is where things get really bad. The road is buckled every 25 feet or so, and buckled bad. I felt like I was riding a bucking bull for at least ten miles. I was more worried about getting tossed off my bike than getting run over by some idiot on his way to Vegas. I-15 transitions from a pretty rough road to real pleasant smooth pavement at about the state line, big surprise there! Anyway, the four of us, me, Stan, Mike, and Dave traded pulls like a well trained pro time-trial team all the way to Jean. I-15 isn't bad from Stateline to Jean, but if someone pulls over, you have to jump the rumble strips and get around them in the right hand lane of the highway, not good at all. This happened to us twice. The ride back from Jean felt like a short hop compared to what we had done previously and a nice end to a long day in the saddle. Big thanks to NUBS and Scott for putting this on!

v/r Kent

Furnace Creek 508 Race—October 2004

2006-12-14T08:46:00.000-08:00

Death Valley, California

Disclaimer: The words and viewpoints in this story are the author’s only and don’t reflect any other teammate’s view or thoughts. I wrote the story before I decided against writing it. I’m part of Team Javelina and I approve this message.

Why would any sane person ever ride his or her bike nonstop for 508 miles through the California desert and Death Valley you ask? Well, the answer to that question eluded me as well while I was pondering the attempt at such a feat. The genesis of this whole crazy idea started with a discussion amongst friends on a GVC bike ride about a year ago. Seeing how Karl and Mike were stalwart long distance kinda guys, I brought the idea up to them and bounced the thought of putting a 4 man team together. I figured, what the hell, it would be just over 100 miles between the four of us and we do that all the time, right? I was actually surprised by the immediate response, “let’s go for it.” Taken a back a bit, it thought to myself, “yeah, let’s go for it!” And, as they say, the rest is basically history.

Like all great enthusiasms that most middle-aged men come upon, the idea kinda faded away to the back burner of life. Then, one day, I got an email from the folks at AdventureCorps stating that the rules had changed and now all relay teams were to ride specific legs to designated changeover points. This brought the idea out of the cobwebs and to forefront once again. I email Karl and Mike and said, “Hey homees are we gonna do this thing or not?” Each responded with, “This homee is in!” So, now you know the history behind, “Team HomEEs.” Some great labels come from some of the simplest of things like: Red Hot Chilli Peppers, Smashing Pumpkins, well ... you get the idea. With 3 of the 4 Team HomEEs in place, the training began in earnest! Well, kinda …

The question now became, “who is crazy enough to be our 4th HomEE?” We kicked around a couple of names and then it came to me, Let’s ask Geoffrey! You see Geoffrey was young, a decent rider, and had been riding rather strongly the last couple of months. So, Mike set out on task to recruit Geoffrey to be part of our team. By the way, Geoffrey will be forever known as “HW Janes:” The HW stands for headwind ... more on that later.

Having no experience with the 508, I decided to go their website and read as much as I could about this famed bike race. I remember getting to the “tall tales” section and seeing a note that said, “if you read one story about the 508, read this one.” So, I clicked on the link and started reading. The story was about a female solo participant, Dolphin. It was an incredible story of her first solo attempt at the race. When I got to the part where she said she was lying in her support vehicle, dry heaving, delirious, and crying I thought to myself: ya know ... this is for me! ... and it is gonna be fun!

I must say that the website helped a great deal and the stories weren’t all that scary. As you can imagine, just figuring out the logistics of this whole effort is a bigger task than getting through the race. Fired up and ready for action, Team HomEEs set up the first team meeting and started the task of figuring out race strategy and just how the heck we were gonna get 4 riders, all their gear, and other odds and ends from one side of the Mojave desert to the other. Speaking of logistics, I think we did a pretty good job planning the whole thing. Executing the logistical plan, at least in my mind, was another matter however. For example, I think we brought enough toilet paper to keep the whole race plus support staff taken care of. The only problem was that all of the toilet paper spent its entire time in the support van. We forgot to put some in the chase vehicle. That’s a bad move after coffee and especially when the train wants to leave the station, if ya know what I mean? We also brought some other useful stuff along: a wind trainer (never used), a bike work stand (never came out of its case), ten thousand extra batteries (we only needed 2 thousand!), and somebody’s entire closet of clothes! Oh, I forgot about the air mattress, complete with electric pump! This wasn’t your average air mattress. No, it was a double-sized air mattress! This albatross took up so much space in the support van, there wasn’t anyplace to put the entire wardrobe of clothes or the coolers, not to mention the fact that there wasn’t enough room for it to begin with, even deflated. Try going around a corner and catching a cooler full of food in your lap after riding 100 miles! Needless to say, we brought waaaaaay too much stuff. I have found that if the thought goes through your head that you probably don’t need it, you probably don’t! One last thing about the logistical plan: If you have one, and have thought it through, it’s probably not a good idea to drastically change the plan half way through the race. We looked like a bunch of crazed morons, moving coolers, bikes, bags and a very tired rider from one vehicle to another at each time station. But hey, live and learn as they say!

Well finally it was here: The day of reckoning! I felt like that kid on The Christmas Story who is eagerly anticipating getting his first BB gun. My teammates were pumped as well, and we all couldn’t wait to get to Santa Clarita and do this thing. Loaded and ready for bear, we pressed out towards California with the plan to drive part of Karl’s route backwards. Karl was our leadoff guy and we wanted to at least give him a chance to see what was in store for him. Cruising past the giant windmills near Mojave we drove up a very long incline that would be Karl’s downhill run to California City towards the handoff with me for the second leg. But as they say, what goes up, must come down and vice versa. Heading south towards Santa Clarita we wound our way through some pretty tough mountains and the thought kept sitting on the back of my mind that this was going to be a pretty tough stage. Little did we know that Mother Nature was following our every move, snickering at us as we marveled and commented on how nice the weather was over here in California.

This might be a good place to mention our team totem. Although we coined ourselves Team HomEEs, this name was not in line with the race rules. The chief totemizer is Chris Kostman, Chief of Adventure Corps and the 508 race director. The idea is to give everyone a name instead of using race numbers and I think it is a pretty good idea too. The totem gives everyone a sense of ownership and identity. We put Mike in charge of picking possible names for submission and approval and we wanted something southwesternish; with a sense of uniqueness. Mike came up with a few animal names and Javelina became the final choice. Blessed by Kostman, we became the fast 4 little wild boars! Everybody thinks that a Javelina is a pig. To the contrary, the two are not even related. The Javelina is somewhat indigenous to the Southwestern United States and is in fact a species of wild boar all to itself. Known for its speed and toughness, we thought this was the perfect totem for the boys from Green Valley Cyclists! And so, Team Javelina was born!

After enjoying traffic jams that only California can offer up, we rolled into the hotel parking lot about 4pm to a sea of vehicles all decked out with totem signs, lights and bicycles. The atmosphere was rife with anticipation as the race officials inspected both vehicles and bicycles. Race officials were extremely strict about safety and all vehicles and bicycles had to comply with the rules, no exceptions. One other cool thing about this race is the friendliness of all the participants and crews. People were exchanging 508 war stories, greeting each other, and welcoming new riders all over the parking lot. It almost seemed like a giant family reunion instead of the eve of a major competitive event.

One thing that Kostman and the folks at AventureCorps do very well is recognize folks for their accomplishments. At the race meeting on Friday night, we watched a great video of 508’s gone by, and were treated to the induction of the 2004 508 hall-of-fame members. Each person was brought on stage after a brief slide show of their past accomplishments and given a special award that galvenized their name in the annals of the 508 hall-of-fame history books. Finally, it was our turn. Each rider was brought on stage and introduced individually in front of family, friends, and support crew. It was actually really cool and made you feel special just to be part of such an event. After the meeting it was off to the hotel for some serious sleep, or maybe not.

As things turned out I spent most of the night rolling from one side of the bed to the other trying to get the snot in my head to a comfortable place. That, as it turned out was futile. I managed to pick up a cold, of which I haven’t had in the last two years, just before leaving for the race. I told myself that I didn’t care what happened because I was gonna do this thing even if I had to crawl. At around 5am I got up and decided to find the reveille ring tone on my phone and have a little fun with Mike and Rick. But alas, all I could muster was some lame cat song, or stupid Fur Elise ring tone. So, I did the next best thing and went knocking at their door! Needless to say, the two of them weren’t too pleased with my early wake up call. Most, if not all the single riders were up and at the ready this early in the morning preparing for the single rider launch scheduled for the 7am gun. Mike, Rick and myself decided to miss the single rider start and instead went foraging for food stuffs. All loaded up and a Starbucks coffee later, we headed back to the hotel to launch Karl on the start of the Team Javelina adventure.

For those not too familiar with California, the weather inland can be a bit unpredictable early in the morning. The temperature usually hovers around the low 60’s and depending on the conditions, fog can be a factor. As it turned out, the fog machine had been working overtime during the night blanketing the whole area with thick air and moisture. Karl, along with all the other team start of riders, took the starting line about 5 minutes prior to official start time of 9am. Let me tell ya, Team Javelina looked good standing there in that semicustom team jersey ... we were ready to go! Well, at least Karl was ready. Out of the parking lot and on to the main drag, the team riders disappeared into the fog and downtown Santa Clarita. Well, I thought, there is nothing to do now but wait.

Geoffrey and I grabbed what would be our last real meal for a couple of days and headed out in the support van to California City. Because the road is so narrow and dangerous on the first leg, the rules stipulated the support van must go ahead and on an alternate route than the rider. The rest of the race (475 long miles) can be followed using a leap frog technique. Our first contact came from a cell phone call from Mike. He informed us that the wind was howling like mad from the northwest. My first thought was great! Wind, just what we needed. Not! I could here Mother Nature snickering off in the distance. As things turned out, Geoffrey and I got to California City about 2 hours early. I did the standard, get everything ready way ahead of time ... nervous bathroom break thing 4 or 5 times ... gee where are those guys act for the next couple of hours.

Finally, we get a cell phone call that Karl was about 5 minutes out. That’s about the last time we could use the cell, we were entering the Death Valley jaws of darkness! Pumped and ready to rock, I took my place at the starting line in front of the time station officials and eagerly awaited Karl’s arrival. I guess I was lucky, the winds swapped around from northwest to southwest leaving me with a quartering tailwind instead of a quartering headwind. Karl passed me the baton and boom I was off. My first thought was to hold back because I, after all, had 70 miles to ride. The whole sensation was a little eerie. I was out in the middle of literally nowhere hauling ass on my bike. I soon lost my sense of caution (and my mind) and decided to just put the hammer down. I figured I could at least use this wind to my advantage and try and put time into our competitors. So, I put it in the big ring and started spinning.

There was one point during the first 11 miles I spun-out at 43 mph. Man, I thought, this must be what it is like being Lance! Cruising like a big dog and making it look easy. As I turned due east towards Randsburg, I passed several riders and a few support vehicles. It was nice to have folks that you don’t know cheering you on as you pass by ... way cool indeed. Most of this leg was roller after roller. It is amazing how those types of roads can take the zing out of your legs over time. Geoffrey and Rick did an excellent job of stopping along the way to make sure I had everything I needed. Little known to them, I made a deal with myself that I would not stop along the way, for anything. I knew time was important and I wanted to lose as little as possible. I made the turn-off towards Randsburg and this is where the famous Randsburg grade starts. Not a real tough climb, but rather an endless climb to nowheresville. Towards the end, the road takes a nasty kick to south so I had increasing grade and wind to deal with, oh how fun!

Coming out of Randsburg, the course takes a few twists and turns and then heads north again towards Trona, the armpit of the world! A few more very long rollers culminate in the final downhill thrust into Trona. One of the race officials was standing on the side of the road and shouted out to me that there was a steep downhill approaching. I smiled, said thanks and pressed on. He was not kidding! By this time, Geoffrey and Rick caught back up to me and followed me down this wild ride. All in all, it was pretty cool. I got in the drops, tucked my head down and watched the computer tick of the speed. I quickly accelerated to 30+, then 40+, and then 50! The last I looked, I was doing 51 mph! That’s about the time the road starting getting worse. Not optimum for sure. As the bike banged around from the bumps and cracks in the road, I managed to slow back down to the mid 40’s. It is amazing how 40 mph can seem slow after doing 50+ on a downhill.

Now if you haven’t been to Trona, you don’t know what you’re missing, or maybe you do. Anyway, they mine something in that town, but I’m not sure what it is. The town is a real dump and there really isn’t much to look at: settling ponds, run-down houses, and of course the neighborhood bar! Great place to go on vacation ... not! The good thing is that there is one road into town and one road out of town. So, finding the handoff spot was not an issue. By this time, I was pretty spent and I was looking forward to the handoff with Mike. I saw Geoffrey waving at me and eyed Mike ready for the handoff. I passed Mike the baton and off he went as I made my way to some refreshing drink by our support van.

Rick and Karl took off as chase while Geoffrey and I got things together in the support van. Trona is about the only place to get gas and supplies for the next twelve hours so we got some ice and water and headed out of town. The biggest concern after a tough leg is recovery. I ate a couple of sandwiches, downed some perpetuam and tried to rehydrate. Another problem associated with this type of racing is the fact that you are in a car for hours after the ride and the legs turn to rocks! I did a bit of self massage and tried to stretch as Geoffrey drove us over to Furnace Creek.

Mike’s route took us up a gentle incline to the summit of a very steep drop-off into the Panamint Valley. At the summit, I decided to change out of my cycling clothes and take a much needed bit of bodily relief. The wind up there was incredible! I’m standing on the edge of a cliff with the wind at my back taking the longest wiz of my life! I felt like one of those Cherubs that adorn those Italian fountains. It is amazing what strong wind at your back can do! Just as the sun started to set, Geoffrey and I made it to the Hwy 190 turnoff that leads you to the endless climb up Townes Pass. We passed Dolphin on our way and I couldn’t help thinking about her solo story. I gave her a bit of a silent cheer and hoped she fared well the rest of the way.

At about this time we met up with most of the single riders and their crews. The site looking up Townes pass was as eerie as it was magical. The slow moving snake of lights seemed to creep up the mountain with a slow rhythmic momentum. The whole scene reminded me of those old movies where the Egyptians were moving materials up a pyramid on a night time construction shift.

The race rules specifically stated that the support van could not stop on Townes pass and had to move ahead of the supported rider so Geoffrey and I decided to make our way to Furnace Creek, time station number 4. By the time we crested the summit, it was as dark as you could imagine. We started what seemed like an endless and bottomless descent into Death Valley. I wasn’t sure what was worse, going up Townes Pass or going down the other side. The descent is not as straight and easy as I remember from some of the past 508 write ups ... and we were in a car! To the contrary, the road zigs and zags and drops off unexpectedly several times along the way. I looked at Geoffrey and said, “ya know, if Mike wipes out coming down this mountain, I’m sure as heck not going back to Trona and start over!” You see, the rules state that if a team member cannot finish a stage, one of the other team members can continue, but they must start over at the beginning of the stage. Geoffrey just gave me that nod of agreement and kept his eyes on the road.

After a quick stop for gas in Stovepipe Wells, we finally made it into Furnace Creek. I could feel Geoffrey’s anticipation. He had been driving all day watching us race and soon it would be his turn. The first thing I noticed when getting out of the van in Furnace Creek was the wind. It had been picking up all day and seemed to be howling a bit harder as we pulled in. We made it in time to grab a quick bite to eat at the Furnace Creek Restaurant and when we came out, we saw just how hard the wind was really blowing, our van was covered in dust! I thought to myself, “this is gonna suck!” Making our short drive back to the time station, we did what we had done all day, wait.

We figured that based on Mike’s planned pace, he would arrive sometime around 10:30pm or so. So, we waited some more. I managed to pass the time by talking with time station folks and checking out the competition on the leader board. Sasquatch showed up at about 9:30pm so I figured we were about an hour behind the leaders. They did an incredible turnaround at Furnace Creek and wasted no time getting back onto the road. As 10:30 approached, we started coming up on the CB because the cell phones were all but useless. Finally, at about 10:45 or so I hear a faint call over the CB (“Javelina, come back Javelina, HomEE is about 5 minutes out”). Geoffrey popped up and got ready. This is where things got a little dorked-up in my mind. Since it was dark, the chase vehicle has to stay behind the rider the entire time. The change of plans kinda screwed things up because we weren’t ready with the chase vehicle in a timely manner. We probably wasted about 15 minutes getting everything ready to go: Changing bikes, swapping coolers, tossing bags, oh, and don’t forget the toilet paper and ten thousand batteries! Oh well, better luck next time.

I swapped off with Karl as chase and Rick and I went behind Geoffrey as support crew. As we left Furnace Creek, Mother Nature started belly laughing at us and turned up the wind machine big time ... I mean big time! I’ve been in wind storms before, but nothing like this. Anyway, Geoffrey plugged away and after about an hour I realized the he was burning some serious calories battling these headwinds. I talked it over with Rick and we decided to stop in Badwater and get some calories into Geoffrey. We didn’t quite make it all the way so we pulled Geoffrey over to the side of the road and he asked how far we had gone: 17 stinkin’ miles in 2 hours! We still had 58 miles to go and 4,000 feet of climbing left to do! If you haven’t read Geoffrey’s write up, go read it, it is truly amazing and I won’t repeat everything here. Our biggest concern was making sure Geoffrey did not bonk on this leg so we pulled him over every hour and made him rest and refuel. By the time we got to the base of Jubilee pass, Geoffrey was pretty well spent. After long hours in the saddle and relentless howling wind, Geoffrey did a heroic job of getting to the summit of Salisbury Pass just prior to day break. By this time I had been up for 24 hours with one hour of sleep and 350+ miles of bike racing!

During one of the stops, Rick asked me if we had any toilet paper in the truck. I did not know, but I said I would let him know if I found any. Well, we had no toilet paper as it turned out, but we had the ten thousand batteries and a wind trainer with us and no coffee! Great, let’s have spin class right here in the desert at 4am! Finally, I found some paper towels amongst all the other mounds of crap and asked Rick if that was OK. He looked at me like a kid at Christmas who just got the best toy! His eyes got as big as saucers! All I could see was this shadowy figure hopping out into the desert beyond the headlights. As he returned I could hear his muffled voice nashing on about something. I asked him if everything was OK, and he said the wind was so strong it blew him over while he was trying to go to the bathroom. Can you imagine what the Coyotes were thinking? I got quite a chuckle out of that one for the next several miles.

Downhill at last and no wind! I don’t know who was happier Geoffrey or me, I’m sure Geoffrey. Rick woke up from a couple of hours of broken sleep and joined me as we followed Geoffrey to the end of his torturous stage. Approaching the bottom, Team Agouti slid by us and over took third place. I was so surprised to see them because I knew the conditions were the same for everyone and I was sure we would at least keep our time advantage on them. Rick and I scooted ahead to give Mike and Karl a heads up that Geoffrey was on his way.

Evidently, we had another change of plan and I was now in the chase vehicle again, this time chasing and supporting Karl. Well, I thought, I’ve gone without sleep this long, what’s another day? I was a little pissed because I was the next rider out on the road and I was wondering when I was supposed to get a little sleep. Not to mention the fact that all my stuff was in the other vehicle. See what I mean about a plan? Plan it, rehearse it, then execute it. Oops, that’s the military coming out in me. Anyway, I got my second wind and helped Karl keep fueled and supported for the next 50 miles into Baker. I soon realized that my whining was nothing compared to the solo crowd, who barely got any sleep whatsoever and were on the road riding all night!

Making our way to Baker, Mike and I stopped and chatted with the Team Agouti chase crew. Evidently, their rider was having some gastrointestinal trouble and was falling behind the pace. I thought, great we can finally put some time into these guys. And putting time into them is exactly what Karl managed to do. He built up about 30 minutes during his 50 mile run. I got stoked and figured we had 3rd place sewed up tight. As Karl and I exchanged the baton in Baker, I saw a look of relief on his face that signified his satisfaction with finally fulfilling his portion of our saga.

I started off pretty strong and was surprised at how well I felt after a night of no sleep and a lingering cold. Up and over I-15 I went in the oblivion of the Mojave desert. This road goes to the moon, I swear. My last portion of the race started off with this endless climb to the horizon. The climb is not steep, but let me tell you it does go on forever. I couldn’t remember if it was 21 miles or 23 miles long. Anyway, I broke it down into thirds mentally. I figured if I could conquer the thing a little piece at a time the rest wouldn’t be so bad. I passed one of the members of Team Pupfish and we exchanged pleasantries for a few moments as we shared our memories of the horrible night behind us. She was riding a bit slow so I said farewell and went on my merry way. There was no reason at this point to look ahead, all you could see was road! And, it kept going up and up. So, I just put my head down and kept pedaling. At about 10 miles into the ride, the boys passed me and asked me if I needed anything. Yea, I thought … an ice cold beer and a bed! At about the 14 mile point and an hour into the ride I came up the “Lonely Lemur” as I like to call him. As I pulled up next to him, being ever careful not to draft (LOL) he said to me, “man I’m glad you’re here, now I have some one to bitch at!” And bitch he did. He said, “ya know my crew is being nice to me and encouraging me and I told them I’m not getting back on the damn bike, you can forget it, I’m just not going to do it!” etc, etc. I just was polite and acknowledged his rant. He broke into another rant saying, “ya know my wife just looked at me and said, get back on that bike. I don’t care how you feel, just get back on that bike and ride! All you said to me on that last ride, as I laid there dead on the ground was, get your sorry ass back on that bike and ride, so you get your sorry ass back on that bike and ride!” Well, I wasn’t quite sure if the old Lemur had all his marbles in one bag or not, so I saluted him and went on my way. I never saw him again. Mike came back to me and said he and Karl were going ahead to the next stop to get ready and that I had a nice 11 mile descent ahead of me. Well, let me tell you about this descent. This road was by far the worst California has to offer. I went from the middle to the right side, back to the middle and even into the on coming lane of traffic just to find a decent flat spot to ride upon. I’m totally surprised that the bike held together. That, by far, was the most horrific road and descent I’ve ever had on a bicycle. I gladly handed off the Javelina baton one last time to Mike in beautiful downtown Kelso, and then staggered over to the support van for some much need calories.

At this point, everything was pretty much of a blur. I don’t remember the van ride from Kelso to Amboy. I think I fell asleep and woke up at the next time station just outside of Amboy and the start of Geoffrey’s final leg. The last thing I remember was waking up and hearing Karl and Rick pull up with the chase vehicle. Here it was I thought, the final leg: Geoffrey’s final leg and we are gonna make it!

Mike and I loaded up the support van and headed off towards the finish line. The plan here was for us to get to the hotel, shower, change clothes and head back to relieve Karl and Rick as chase so they could do the same thing. Pulling into Twenty Nine Stumps (Palms), all I could think about was the wind. It had started blowing again and it was picking up speed. I could hear Mother Nature whispering in my ear, “Not so fast Javelina, I’m not done with you yet!” We rendezvoused with the team just after Geoffrey’s descent from Sheep Head pass and this is where things got interesting.

The road into Twenty Nine Palms is very long and boring. It was getting dark and the wind was relentless ... and it was Geoffrey’s stage. This was insult to injury for sure. We followed Geoffrey for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, he stopped and I could tell he was pretty well spent. He kept asking us how far it was to the finish and I kept lying to him to make him feel better. I forced a banana and some Hammergel down him and told him to keep drinking while he was riding. I could tell he was slowly but surely entering the bonk zone. Finally, Geoffrey just stopped. Uh oh, I thought. This is bad. We made him take a break and sit in the truck for awhile and just at that time Team Agouti cruises right passed us. I saw the rider do a turnaround look to make sure it was us and off they went into the darkness. I felt that sinking feeling but felt even worse for Geoffrey. He had done a heroic job of riding and now Agouti had just passed us. I had a high school track coach tell me once that being great was 10% perspiration and 90% inspiration. Well, I guess he was right, especially in Geoffrey’s case at this very moment. Geoffrey just got back on the bike and rode! As we made the final turn into town, we could see the flashing lights of various support vehicles in front of us. I could tell Geoffrey saw the same thing because his pace had quickened. I yelled out of the car for him to take several hits of Hammergel which he did without complaint. At this point, Geoffrey was a horse smelling the barn. He put the hammer down and caught team Griz which I’m sure he thought was Agouti. I looked at Mike and we both had the same thought at the same moment: “Geoffrey just might catch Agouti!” Fortunately for us Agouti had some unique flashing lights atop their chase vehicle so we could differentiate them from the rest. I spotted them about 100 yards in front of us and couldn’t wait to tell Geoffrey. Mike pulled me up beside Geoffrey and while hanging all the way out of the chase vehicle I said, “Geoffrey, do you see those lights up ahead?” he nodded, and I said, “That’s Agouti, you go get’em!” Much to my surprise and Mike’s, Geoffrey just took off! It was just like watching Lance on one of those mountain stages. Holy crap! We are in for one heck of a finish! Mike and I got all caught up with the chase-vehicle mess at the finish so we couldn’t tell if Geoffrey beat Agouti or not. Finally, we rolled into the hotel parking lot, jumped out of the chase vehicle and saw Geoffrey lying in a heap on the ground. I ran over and said, “Did you get’em, did you get’em!” Geoffrey mustered up a muffled response and said something about getting cut off by a pickup truck. I just stood there in amazement! Let me tell ya, that was one heck of an effort! Turns out we got beat by 3 seconds after 36 hours 1 minute and 55 seconds of riding for 508 miles.

Well, we all got what we came for, a finish in the Furnace Creek 508 and the coveted race jersey and finisher’s medal. What a true team effort and a truly epic event! Let’s do it again next year! Well, maybe ...

Grand Tour Double Century—June 2004

2006-12-14T08:35:00.000-08:00

Malibu, California

I'm not sure but I think I'm starting to like this riding in California thing. Not that I don't like Las Vegas or anything, but the cycling atmosphere in the People's Republic of California is just somewhat more elevated, and somehow inspires me to ride just a little bit farther and faster. For those who don't know, the Grand Tour is put on by the LA Wheelmen bicycle club and has quite a history. You can read more at their website www.lawheelmen.org Every year 500 to 600 folks challenge themselves on the 125 mile Century Challenge course, or the 200, 300, and yes Virginia, the 400 mile RAAM qualifier. The route takes you North on the PCH, up and/or around the Santa Monica mountains, through Ojai, onto Carpenteria, and back along the PCH South to Malibu. More on the route highlights a little later.

The trip started out with the ever familiar combat driving experience on I-15 to LA. Our goal was to get to Santa Monica by lunch, make it to Supergo to fill up a Santa size bag full of bike goodies and get then get to our hotel before dinner. I must say, that if you have not driven I-10 through downtown LA, give it a try. If you are not a road rage kinda guy/gal, this is a great training ground. Even Ghandi or Mother Teresa would develop snarling fangs on this highway full of knuckle heads.

The six mile drive from Santa Monica to Malibu had the familiar feel to it. Windows rolled down, 70 degrees with blue sky, and the sound of waves crashing on the beach. Kinda like those Hollywood movies. We stayed at a great place, The Casa Malibu. It is a historic little hide away right in the middle of town. A bit pricey, but still very nice and located very close to the starting point.

The plan was to start the ride at the brisk early-morning hour of 0430. There is no mass start for the rides, just start windows. As Bobbie drove me up to the start point at 0415, some of the diehards had already rolled. I figured them to be the 300 or 400 mile crowd. As always along the California coast, the sea fog settled in to provide a little moisture into the equation. Now, when you mix an early start with fog, you get dark...I mean dark! And when you mix moisture with dark, you get foggy lenses which means more moisture and dark! More on that later. Anyway, I met Karl and Mike in the parking lot at the appointed start time and helped them get ready. It is amazing how hard it is to get ready when there are no street lights next to your car and there is a mixture of moisture and dark, which by the way, equals fumbling around for the simplest of things.

Steeds mounted and lights on we pressed on to conquer the Grand Tour. Right from the start there is a nasty little climb up towards Pepperdine University. The climb is just enough to jump start the heart into action and wake up the old lactic engine. Having that out of the way, you are greeted by some pretty spectacular rollers, that is if you can see them. There is just nothing like being on a bike at 40 miles an hour in the dark. It seems like your brain can't keep up with what is in front of you and the whole experience is rather surreal. Nonetheless, the experience is exhilarating and in a sick way kinda fun. Actually, my front mounted 3 LED light worked out just fine and I found that it provided plenty of illumination. About an hour into the ride the sunlight sort of peeked its way into our presence. The funny thing about the California coast covered in sea fog is the unexpected sunrise. The light comes on very slowly. Kind of like a real slow rheostat being turned up by grandma.

Some where along the way the three of us tagged up with a real nice group from Ventura: two guys, Mark and Randy; and one gal, Christine. They road at or about our speed and seemed amiable to forming an organized paceline. This turned out great. We rotated anywhere from 1 to 2 minutes off the front making the miles peel away. As a side note, our route was the Lowland Double route which has very little climbing. It is a great first Double for all those pondering the challenge for the future. The first rest stop comes about 38 miles into the ride and is located in Port Hueneme (sp) at a community center just south of Oxnard. Let me say that the rest stops were completely stocked with great food and Hammer products (not available last year). The volunteers did a great job and were very friendly throughout the entire ride. Keep in mind here that the club had to man 4 different events in one day! That's a lot of rest stops.

Out of Port Hueneme, the route turns inland and goes in and around the agricultural areas of central California. This is really road bike heaven. No cars (or very little), decent roads, and great scenery. As we meandered our way through the fields we ended up in Camarillo. This is a beautiful community just Southeast of Ventura. From here, we made our way to the next rest stop in a beautiful little park on the outskirts of Ventura. This is where Christine gave me a little Ventura history lesson. Evidently, the early settlers were not able to make their way from East to West across what is now known as Hwy 126. Ventura was completely supplied by ship. There was no inland travel. The Ventura valley at the time was ravaged by wind, drought and dust storms so everything had to be shipped in. As the settlement grew, the valley was converted into the fertile orchards that are there today. There you have it! Riding a Double century can be like going back to school. Oh, If you stop at this park make sure you don't put your bike next to the water fountain by the bathroom. Every time somebody flushes the toilet, the water fountain spits up a stream of water like old faithful! A truly bizarre experience to say the least.

The Lowland route is a bit rural and takes you through quite few stop lights, but it is enjoyable nonetheless. As we departed the rest stop in Ventura we made our way through the neighborhoods and old downtown Ventura. There are a lot of great examples of early American architecture here making the ride quite interesting. From Ventura, the Lowland route heads Northeast towards Ojai, a quaint little community nestled in the foothills of the Ojai valley. The route does a great job of getting off Hwy 33 and taking a back road that enters the town of Ojai from the North. I think I counted 2 cars in the 45 minutes we were en route. The road is literally covered in trees providing shade the whole way. The feeling was like riding through a natural covered bridge. Stopping for lunch in Ojai, we were once again greeted by super volunteers. Believe it or not, they actually made sandwiches to order, or cooked a bean burrito for you! Caution got the better of me so I had my usual turkey sandwich with no cheese! I learned that lesson from past doubles. Gurgle, gurgle, burp, fart, fart! I couldn't imagine a bean burrito working its way through me for the next 6 hours.

As we were leaving, Stan and the Bike Shop boys from Henderson, NV showed up. The original plan was to tag up with them in the beginning, but wires got cross, the sun got in our eyes and our shoes were too tight, so we pressed without them. We exchanged greetings and seeing how we were ready to leave, we pressed on with our friends from Ventura leaving the Bike shop boys to their sandwiches and bean burritos. The route from here takes you back to the North of Ojai along the North side of the Ojai valley and finally back to highway 33 into Ventura. You pick up a bike path that parallels Hwy 101 for a short distance that then dumps you onto Old Hwy 1. Here you are greeted with miles and miles of motor homes, smells of barbecue, and friendly folks waving as you pass by. I must say, the beach homes along this stretch are quite impressive, not mention all the expensive cars parked outside. As we cruised along, I notice that the ride felt particularly easy at this point. I soon found out why. I looked up at one of the hundreds of American flags waving from motor homes and noticed we had a tailwind. Uh oh, I thought. This is not looking good for the home-bound leg. Normally, the trade winds blow Northwest to Southeast in the afternoon. But, as it turnout, the wind gods decided to change the rules and blow the winds in the opposite direction.

The turnaround point is Hwy 150 and the Hwy 101 intersection. This is the spot where the Highland Double folks meet up with the Lowland folks. This was also the point were you can get a real nice hot cup of noodles, a perfect three quarter ride pick me up. Mike highly recommends it to everyone. Our plan here was to tag up with the Tandem tugboat and ride the wave for the last 50 miles. That was not to be however. It seems my rear tire just had enough and went flat as we ramped up to high gear. A quick swap of the tube with help from my trustee ride buds, we got on our way again in minimum time. Rounding the corner towards the open sea, mister wind greeted us right in the face and stayed with us all the way to Port Hueneme. All in all, we kept a pretty good paceline going and managed to keep 15 to 16 mph the entire way. The route returning to Malibu is the same except this time you can see the rollers! After 170 miles of riding these were pretty tough hills, even for the seasoned rider. This is where you learn to keep something in reserve no matter how easy the ride seems in the beginning. As Mike, Karl and I swapped leads up the hills we finally caught a glimpse of Pepperdine University in the distance, a truly welcome site. The finish was great. Several folks were cheering us in and we were greeted by a superb barbecue spread. Oh, Finally a seat with legs NOT moving!

Ride Stats:

Total Time: 13 hours 40 mins
Riding Time: 11 hours 10 mins
Distance: 201.4 miles
Average Total Speed: 15.5 mph
Average Riding Speed: 18.3 mph

Best thing about the ride: Riding with two other friends for a California Triple Crown
Worst thing about the ride: Fog, moisture and dark!

Cactus Hugger Century—April 2004

2006-12-14T07:57:00.000-08:00

St. George, Utah

Just a few words on the Cactus Hugger Century. Bobbie and I opted for the 46 mile ride because she had not been on a bike in awhile. As we made our way to St. George in a driving rain storm, I often wondered how the weather would be the following day at the start. As it turned out, not a whole lot different. I had seen this picture about 3 years previous at the ‘Chums Classic’ race when they took 6 people to hospital for hyperthermia.

As I loaded the bikes on the car at 0530, I notice a slight sprinkle. By 0700 this dissipated and a sucker hole appeared over the start, Xtevia Gardens. I thought to myself that I had seen this before and opted for the Gortex rain jackets (a smart move). Anyway, the folks organized a super ride and everything went like clock work, right down to parking the car. I was suitably impressed. We grabbed our bag of goodies and prepared for the ride.

I must say that I was a bit disappointed at the lack of a ‘mass start.’ Unlike most events, this adds to some of the excitement. We pressed ahead alone on the road only to find a few riders on the road with us. The weather held and the ride to Gunlock was rather uneventful. If you can call beautiful scenery and no cars uneventful. Anyway, we arrived at Gunlock to find two very friendly volunteers huddled under a blanket. At this point, it started to rain. Not sprinkle! I figured, “here we go.” We caught a tandem wheel for a short time, but lost them on the ‘wall.’ If you haven’t ridden this route, it is beautiful: no cars, nothing but rider’s paradise. The wall sucks but anyone can climb it with a little effort.

Arriving at Veyo, we opted to continue on with the 46 mile option. Here is where Mr. Wind greeted us. Let’s see, driving rain, cross wind, and temps that bordered on sleet! Great riding conditions, eh. NOT! At 12 to 14 MPH we made our way to the Snow Canyon Bike path. I must say that this was probably the worst riding conditions I’ve every found myself in. Bobbie flatted at Snow Canyon so we made a quick fix (frozen hands and wet gloves) and continued on.

Up and down and all around we finally ended up in St. George. This is where God smiled upon us and gave us sunshine. That warmth one feels after such suffering is indescribable. Soaked from head to toe, we basked in the Sunshine as we made our way very slowly through Ivins and back the Kayenta.

Best thing about the ride: Riding with your spouse. 2nd best: Enthusiastic volunteers standing in the rain encouraging riders! Awesome!

Worst thing: Changing a flat with frozen wet hands. (sucks)
Most memorable: The beauty of Utah. (Never undeterred by the weather, a true marvel!)

Would I do it again? Yes, even in the rain/sleet! Any ride is better than no ride.
Checkout the start and home: Kayentah Utah

Eastern Sierra Double Century—May 2004

2006-12-12T13:19:00.000-08:00

Bishop, California

There is only one word to describe this ride, EPIC! This is by far the most beautiful scenery in this country! Planet Ultra, once again, did an outstanding job of hosting the event. Unparalleled support by staff and volunteers.

The ride started at 5:15am sharp. A short hop in and around Bishop and then to the Mountains! If you think you are a good climber, I double dog dare you to tackle this one. About 5 hours at 8 miles an hour and a butt load of altitude later, I finally made it to the summit at Mammoth. Did you know that there aren't very many oxygen molecules at 8500 feet? I forgot that part. And, did you know that the wind does blow in your face at that altitude? I forgot that part too! Well, anyway, the 3 ladies hosting checkpoint 3 made it all worth while. Cheery faces and cracking jokes the whole time. Over Deadman's Pass (gee why do they call it that I wondered) we started our trek towards Mono Lake. Now this was the coolest part. Seeing and taking in God's beauty.

If you have not been to the Eastern Sierra's you are missing a true wonder. I'm cruising along searching for oxygen while at the same time marveling at the vistas before me. And to think, I haven't covered a hundred miles yet! Let me say that June Lake was a real treat and if you are a fisherman, you would be in serious paradise. Anyway, the tailwind God blessed us with for a short while coming out of the June Lake loop and we made our way to Mono Lake park. Exiting June Lake we were greeted by Mr. Headwind for the next 15 miles until lunch. As fate would have it, the Planet Ultra staff put the lunch stop at the bottom of a long descent, by which, we would have to climb back up to continue the ride. Great, I thought, Subway sandwiches always taste better the second time around. Undaunted, my new found riding partner from Redding, CA (Jeff) and I pressed on to conquer the last pass of the day. It is amazing how little climbs can just kick your ass after a long day in the saddle with nothing but climbing. Up and down, and all around we went. The next rest stop was supposed to be at 130 miles, the summit. Well, my cosmo supercharged computer measured it at 136. How cruel I thought! Anyway, the two teenage gals checking everybody in were great! Full of teenage enthusiasm and encouragement, even for an old geezer like me! They hooped and cheered us all the way in. Great fun! I stopped to look over my shoulder and all I could see was snow covered peaks to the West. Awesome was the word coming to mind!

Watered up and ready to go, Jeff and I pressed on and this is where things got fun! 50 miles an hour downhill for what seemed like forever. That was the bomb for sure and I felt like those Tdf boys descending the Alps. The last 70 miles or so I ended up by myself. That's not all bad because it is amazing what goes through your mind peddling along as the sun descends to the West. As I cruised along Hwy 6 southbound back to Bishop, I got a great rush of accomplishment, I just kicked the 200 mile ride square in the butt! The best part by far were all the prior finishers standing in the parking lot cheering everyone on as they came in. Hands down, the best bike ride I have ever done!

I'd do it again in a heartbeat...Well, maybe a years worth at least.

Solvang Double Century—March 2004

2006-12-12T13:07:00.000-08:00

Solvang, California

Once again we were greeted with superb weather, great riding conditions and excellent hosting at the Solvang Double Century. It amazes me how this part of the country is so perfect for cycling. We started our adventure at the wee hour of 0540 in the morning with a staggered mass start. In groups of 64, the hearty soles were released from the starting gate unaware of the most excellent conditions that would come our way. The only downside to the whole day was the brisk temperature during the first part of our ride. That, too, was abated quickly as the sun rose unopposed in the eastern sky. I must say that the sunrise over the eastern mountains near Santa Barbara was breathtaking. The initial route took us through the Solvang area of rolling hills, horse ranches and farms. I vowed to maintain my planned pace and conserve energy for the long miles ahead.

At about the 15 mile point we encountered a rather long but not impossible climb that gave me the opportunity to tag up with a very cheerful couple on a tandem. Marty, the stoker, and I struck up a great conversation about various topics including Double Century conquests, etc. As we continued to chat, she informed that her Captain had done 41 Doubles and she was working on her 47th. Geez, I thought to my self, I'm a real rookie, informing her that I was proudly working on my first one! To make things even more humbling, we passed two older gentlemen on a tandem and Marty promptly informed me that the Captain of this tandem team was the "King." I asked rather inquisitively, "The King, huh?...King of what?" Marty said, "the captain of that tandem has 87 Doubles to his credit." I thought to myself that I have truly met the Yoda of endurance cycling! As it turned out, I would see them again. More on that later. I lost Marty and her captain someplace on the downhill run towards Foxen canyon. I've always maintained that when you lose a Tandem wheel, you won't get it back. Anyway, by this time the temperature managed to climb out of the 30's and quickly into the pleasant upper 40's. For those not familiar with Foxen canyon road, let me describe it in a few words here. The road is about 20 or so miles from Solvang and winds it's way for miles through some of the most beautiful countryside in California. The road meanders through vineyards, horse farms, and pastures. It is about the closest thing a perfect cycling location you will find anywhere.

As I pressed on down Foxen canyon, the two older fellows on the tandem passed by me and somehow I managed jump on the back. As it turned, I was lucky enough to take advantage of their draft for 20 miles to first rest stop. Along the way, I managed to strike up a conversation with the "King of Doubles" and asked him how he managed to achieve such fame. His answer was short and to the point, "just spend twelve years doing it." If you do the math, that's seven and a quarter doubles a year!

The energy at the first rest stop was pretty high with folks quickly relieving themselves (in true road biker fashion), filling water bottles, and grabbing food. The key at these rest stops is to spend as little time as possible off the bike. As such, I fueled up with some of those great PP&J sandwiches, stoked the water bottles/camelback and pressed on. It appears that leaving quickly had its benefit. A rather large peloton with Tandems in the lead (of course) blasted by me like the Tour de France. As I stood to quicken my pace, one gentleman spouted out the obvious and told me if I wanted to join in, I would have get on the back. As it turned out, this group was composed of the Furnace Creek 508 vets from Bakersfield, or Kern County Wheelmen. For those unfamiliar, the Furnace Creek 508 is a 508 mile race that transits Death Valley; a real popular event for all the endurance fanatics. For the next 50 miles, they joked, whooped and hollered and really made the whole ride quite fun. My planned pace went out the window as we blasted through Santa Maria on our way to San Luis Obispo at well over 20 miles an hour.

This is about the time the temperature started to climb towards the 80s so off came the arm warmers, etc. The funny thing about cruising along in a fast group, is the fact that you don't realize how much you are sweating until you stop. Lesson learned here is: riding fast equals drink a lot! Out of San Luis for the first time we pressed towards Morro Bay along Hwy 101 to see the "Rock" before returning to San Luis Obispo for lunch. Not to my surprise, the "King" and his stoker blasted by me, and once again, I used up some juice to get on their wheel. By this time, we had a really nice tailwind literally shoving us down Los Osos road. We topped 30 mph easily for about 20 miles. What a ride!

As usual, Planet Ultra did a great job supporting the lunch stop. I grabbed a turkey sandwich and a can of v-8 juice and munched away. It always amazes me how your stomach doesn't even feel like you put anything into it when you do these types of events. Anyway, fueled up, I popped a couple of e-caps and pressed on my way to my next goal: the rest stop at Guadalupe. I slowed my pace going through Shell Beach and up the climb to the Guadalupe plateau. At 125 miles, I wanted to make sure I would finish this thing. At the top of the Guadalupe Plateau, you are presented with a really nice view back over your shoulder at Shell Beach: vast sand dunes and an awesome picturesque view of the Pacific Ocean. This is the spot that leads into the farmland of the central coast. Tons of acreage growing everything from garden flowers to red cabbage. This is also the spot where the wind is either your friend or your nemesis! Fortunately, the wind gods were in our favor and we enjoyed a nice tailwind and screamer downhill run all the way into Guadalupe.

I must say that Guadalupe is not your average California town. It is small and more reminiscent of central Indiana. Old looking movie houses and architecture from the 30s or 40s. Nonetheless, we were greeted by some awesome volunteers at this rest stop and the topic of conversation amongst riders was the quick pace. Almost to a rider, everyone was well ahead of planned pace and personal timelines. I, too, thought I'm gonna finish this thing before dark. So, what seemed like my 50th PP&J, I pounded down nourishment and pressed on my way. I soloed out of Guadalupe but was quickly caught by some other friendly riders who kindly let me join their wheel. We exchanged pulls for about 15 miles, but the pace seemed a bit fast for me so I dropped off the back to conserve energy. The route from this point is relatively flat until you reach Hwy 135. From here it is a long 3 or 4 mile grind up to the summit that finally leads into the last rest stop at Los Alamos.

About 7 miles out from Los Alamos I tagged up with an elderly gentlemen named Howard. As we rode together, we exchanged pleasantries and stories of rides gone by. He informed me that he was 73 and his doctor and family thought he shouldn't be doing doubles any longer. I asked him how many doubles he does in a year and to my surprise, he said he was trying to cut down from 5 to 3! There again, I felt like such a rookie compared to these seasoned veterans. The story also gave me the motivation I needed to finish this ride!

Los Alamos is a lot like Guadalupe, it is a little out of character, at least in my mind, of what a town in California should look like. The rest stop was nestled up against a house that looked like something out of Mayberry RFD gone bad. Nonetheless, the food and refreshments were a welcome site and I had made it to 170 miles! What got my attention here was the look on some of the riders’ faces. There was this far-off stare amongst a lot of them that looked like they were concentrating on something beyond their immediate vision. I think most of us call it BONK! There were even a few that huddled together while nursing down a well deserved hot bowl of cup-of-soup. I kept thinking to myself that if I stay here too long, I’m going to start looking and feeling like these guys. Apart from the 3 mile climb at 5 percent grade and horrendously bumpy Drum Canyon road, the last 21 miles into Solvang was rewarding and rather uneventful. My total ride time was: 10 hours, 35 minutes and 36 seconds. 12 hours and 14 minutes unofficial total time. As they say, most of a double century is mental and I certainly concur. See you on the road!