Thaw

Redwing's five-note song
in morning's merciful light
bids winter farewell

False Spring

This week brought a pretty crazy swing in our weather. Once again, hopes were dashed for Portland snow, and a forecast that initially predicted a possible 6 inches Tuesday night fizzzled to "possible flurries and freezing rain," Which was pretty much all we got. Tuesday evening I rode home from work in full winter gear, a strong tailwind howling out of the gorge, and the first dry snowflakes dancing in clouds of ground snow ahead of me on the Springwater. Tuesday night brought light freezing rain and a 2-hour late school start. My ride in was still a little dicey; the car lane was clear, but the bike lane a wet sheet of ice in most spots, and since I was coming in later, there was more traffic. By the time I left for home, the thermometer was up to 50, and it hasn't dipped below since then. We had plans to visit friends in Sisters for some XC skiing this 3-day weekend, but that's not gonna happen.

Dry snow on Tuesday

swirling around my wheels

Thursday I dodge frogs

Three frogs cross my path

Can they think that spring has come

in January?

Joyriding

#1

Leaving Vernonia

to trade pulls down the Nehalem
on a splendid day.

A year after my longest ride ever, I got the chance to repeat the feat and see what the Birkie Brevet 200K is like without the cold and wet. Wonderful, it turns out. I'm not sure, but it seems like there were less riders this year. Not enough suffering in the forecast? Hmmm. We started in the calm almost dawn with patches of frost on the side of the road and cold hands and feet for the first stretch to Vernonia. I fell in with a group of seven guys somewhere in the mid-backfield, and we stayed more or less intact for the duration of the day, which was kind of cool. I may shed my anti-social tendencies yet. A couple of them seemed to know each other, but as I'm still a newbie at this, and don't really know anyone, I figured I'd just play it loose and ride my ride and not sweat it with trying to stay on anyone's wheel. The whole thing just seemed to play out organically. Someone would pull over for a pee break and the whole peloton had a male bonding experience, controls were casual chatty affairs, then someone would stretch and mount up, and pretty soon everyone was rolling and taking turns again pulling the train. Fluid and very comfortable. Well, except for that 20mph pace for several miles into Birkenfield. But we got that out of our system and part two passed more calmly.

Rest stop at Birkie

last year it was the wood stove

this year it's the sun

Preparing for the ride with all the school/university stuff was a little stressful. On Thursday I decided to pull the 6-speed freewheel to drop some lube in and when I took the rear skewer off I found this:

For the record, that's a rear axel and it's supposed to be in one piece. Lord knows how long it's been broken - thank God for skewers, eh? If it had been a bolt-on I'd have dropped my wheel. On second thought, if it had been a bolt-on it would have been a solid axel and it would take the torque of a tank to snap one of those. I didn't have time to make it to a bike shop, but fortunately was able to cannibalize another 126mm rear axel and everything was fine.

Back to the Birkie, by the time we were over Timber Rd. the second time our group was splintering, and I got dropped on the downhill curves but was able to chase back on before the highway and three of us finished out the ride into Forest Grove, our time a quite decent 9:10 - and that included some long-ish rest breaks. But here's the funny thing - and I vowed that evening I will never do this again - I didn't get the names of the other guys I finished with; I just know them as Orange Ira Ryan and Blue Kona JTS. Looking at the results I see that their names were Gene and Stephen, but I'll be damned if I know which was which.

Of course - and this may sound sexist but I think I'm right - if we'd been women, we'd have known one another's names (and a whole lot more) before we hit the first control. Guys are funny sometimes.

I was feeling kind of guilty about being gone from kith & kin for a sunny Saturday - and the first day of spring break - so I checked in and high-tailed it home, later regretting I hadn't sat for a burger and beer with my comrades for the day. Next time.

#2

At Wahkeena falls

a giant salamander

the only traffic

The Birkie was the beginning of Spring Break, and I had sent out feelers a couple weeks earlier to the team inquiring whether anyone wanted to join me for a jaunt out the gorge past Multnomah Falls to the Oneonta tunnel. I emphasized that I was On Vacation, would be riding my Touring Bike with Handlebar Bag and Triple Chainring. Read: No rotating-paceline-sprint-to-the-next-sign hammerfest. A couple indicated interest so Catherine, Jeff and I met at Bipartisan Monday morning and headed out Marine Drive in light showers. Catherine had raced Sunday so she was just looking for a spin and turned around at Troutdale, where Jeff and I headed up the Sandy, taking Woodard Rd. for some "gratuitous climbing" before reconnecting at Springdale.

Despite Spring Break, traffic was super-light and we took the lane nearly all the way from Crown Point to the tunnel. With all the recent rain the falls were all in full flow, the frogs and birds nearly as loud in some of the dells, and everything green green green.We turned around at the tunnel, stopped for coffee at the falls, and

headed back up up up to the point, then down to the Stark St. bridge and had a quick zip home.

#3

Overnight bike date

Edgefield gardens budding

my hand rests in yours

T had a gift certificate for a night at the Edgefield,with a little left over for food and whatnot, and asked me if I wanted to join her on a kid-free date. Now, I love my kids. But I loved her first, and time away together is as rare as a tasty school lunch. So Yes, please. And with a nice forecast we decided to bike there. Riding is a great start to any date, plus it would give the new sale panniers ($27 each @ Restoration Hardware) a test run.

We called ahead to make sure they could accommodate our steeds, and they even switched us to a suite with a "sitting room" (bike lounge?). Sweet.

Edgefield is tré Euro, with no TV, the

baño down the hall, and grounds that encourage mingling. I even ran into Joseph Rose, who had also biked out with his family for a little R & R. So T and I ate, walked the gardens, ate, visited the soaking pool, ate, did some wine tasting, and ate. I slept like a baby that night.

The next morning - after breakfast in the Black Rabbit, of course, and another leisurely garden stroll - we decided to take the long way home. It ended up being a little longer after we got turned back at the Stark Street bridge by an ODOT flagger who took his responsibility to keep defenseless cyclist from being crushed by big scary dump trucks very seriously and would not, despite our assurances, believe that we could safely walk our bikes up the shoulder of the road where the repaving was taking place. Ah well, we detoured back to Troutdale and up to Gresham and we were on the Springwater and had a quiet ride home. For a mini-vacation, this was about perfect, and good for my soul in a way I hadn't realized I needed.

Change-up

Evening on Tick marsh

"crit-rit" call the peeper frogs

"ling" answers brass bell

I'm putting in 10 hour days on a regular basis now, just to stay on top of things and avoid bringing school stuff home to grade, which I'm mostly successful at. It's good, and I'm enjoying myself, but there's never enough time in a day, is there?

A couple of weeks ago I decided my head and heart would be happier if I avoided traffic at the end of the day and took the long way home. When the days were longer I liked ending the week by riding the Springwater trail home on Friday. I can access it in Gresham just blocks from school, connect to the 205 path near Foster, and jump off close to home, making for about 12 traffic-free miles. It's a dark ride in winter, without street lights, and since it's home - literally - to some pretty dodgy folks without visible means of support but plenty of needles and 40-ouncers, I'll stick with the streets until the lighter months. But along about the end of February there's enough lingering light that I can get on at 5-ish and make it home before dark.

I've seen some interesting stuff, though. I stopped and picked up a big Buck knife with a duct-taped handle right next to a homeless couple loudly airing their dirty laundry in the middle of the trail. not sure if it had been thrown and missed the mark, or accidentally dropped, but they didn't argue when I rode away with it, hoping I'd helped avoid the fight getting truly ugly. A couple days later I thought I'd scored another free bike down in the blackberry bushes below the trail - until I noticed the woman lying next to it. I stopped to help, of course, figuring she'd drifted onto the soft shoulder and taken a tumble. The slur of her embarrassed apology reinforced what my nose was already saying. It takes a lot to be too drunk to ride in the daylight, but she was there. I helped her up to the trail and after she assured me she was just scratched and was going to get on Max, I left her standing there, her helmet still looped over her handlebars where it was when she took her tumble. I saw her again today sitting beside her bike, reading a book in the sun by the trail. The same day I helped her I came up behind a half dozen saggy-pantsed young men, out for a stroll. Normally I ring the bell to let people know I'm coming and slow to allow them to move to the side. But sometimes the gut says stealth is better and giving warning will just put me at a disadvantage. I put on a little speed and was by the rear guard before they could do anything but shout. the lead guy, however, gave chase for a few strides, and shouted out if I knew where Powell Butte was. Um, it's that big hillside looming over you on the right? I suspect he knew that, but wanted to see if I was dumb enough to actually stop to answer his question. Not today.

Mostly, though, it's a really lovely ride. The wild cherrys and old abandoned apple orchards are in bloom, Johnson creek is full, the red-winged blackbirds are perched on dry cattails and calling their girlfriends, and get 10+ miles of brake-less and car-free riding to clear my head and heart.

It's helping.

Brought to a dead stop

next to the uprooted tree

by a fist a wind

Catching My Breath

Over my shoulder
I can still feel summer's heat
tonight the snow falls

I hadn't intended to neglect this blog or pull the plug, and while I knew the end of summer would bring big change, I didn't anticipate how busy I'd be. This Christmas break with two weeks away from teaching and my university classes has been truly restorative. Breakfasts with my children, walks to the coffee shop, rides without a destination, and now this little un-forecast mini snowstorm are all food for my soul, and I'm so grateful.

I had intended to write an entry titled "Freeride" (cue Edgar Winter Group). Now, I'll just summarize: My district's decision (financial) to end my reading program, and my "transfer" to a new position/location also entailed a salary cut. And summer school - which I've taught for the last four years - was also one of those "extras" the district trimmed, so I was left with more free time and less money this summer. This ended up being a blessing. I decided to dabble in a little bike racing, but couldn't afford the entry fees. But I was time-wealthy and I raced the whole Mount Tabor road series, and the whole PIR Short Track mountain bike series for free by volunteering before and/or after my races. I also volunteered at all three of Portland's Sunday Parkways events, first with my son as "Intersection Superheroes," then helping with set-up, and finally as a "roving mechanic." My three shifts earned me the coveted Sunday Parkways special edition bandanna.

1. I also got a free ride for the Portland Century (next day sign removal), the Hottest day of the Year ride (truck unloading), The Night Ride (with my son in exchange for flyering for the Cirque du Cycling), and the Tour de Lab (bike parking at Hopworks Biketoberfest). All in all, a summer of good bike fun and a drawer full of free bike t-shirts (that became nightshirts for my girls.)

Racing in the mud
over engine breath cowbells
and shouts "Go Redmill!"

But best of all was the royal treatment I received for the Cross Crusade. The Baiku version is I know someone who knows someone at Bob's Red Mill, and they knew I eat Bob's organic steel-cut oats every day and preach the Bob's goodness, and I was asked to join their new cyclocross team. I got a free kit with Bob's picture on the shoulders, and in exchange for riding and running and leaping around in the mud with my bike, I received free registrations and some BRM whole grain goodness. How cool is that?! This year I joined the mens 50+ cat for some hard & fast competition. I held my own, once came close to a top-10 finish, and got my first experience with flatting and running it out (twice). Most of all, I had a blast racing with a great group of guys.

And I needed that relief valve this fall. This is my 20th year teaching, but getting ready I felt like such a rookie; I was nervous, scared, excited, and I spent more time getting my classroom and curriculum together than I ever have before. I've got a couple of great groups of 6th graders, and I'm teaming with some incredibly hard-working and dedicated teachers. Plus, my new principal is a former colleague, and a very funny and talented guy, and I feel fortunate to be part of his team. But it has been and remains a lot of work making the transition to a new building and new curriculum. I'm reinventing myself as a teacher. I hadn't realized until I made the move how burnt out I was getting in my former position. I thought I was better than that, but I had allowed the canned curriculum and isolation to lull me into getting comfortable and it was killing me as a teacher. The new job is more work for less money, but - strange as it sounds - I feel a lot better about what I'm doing and I look forward to every day. That hasn't been true for a couple of years.

And I'm finally in an administrative program, deciding to attend the University of Portland after a disastrous experience with Portland State that really was the final straw in a long string of bad experiences with them stretching back to the late 80's. The classes at U.P. have been fantastic, and I feel like this fall I've transitioned from being cautiously curious about working in educational administration and uncertain of my own abilities, to ready to get in and start creating the kind school I believe kids really need. I feel like I've spent the last 20 years learning and gathering and preparing for this. I know I'm idealistic and I know nothing resist change like a public school bureaucracy. And maybe I'm sick that way, but knowing this just makes me want it more.

Consolation Ride

On Saturday I really wanted to be doing this. But with the girls gone to the ranch, big C here with me, and a pre-Easter dinner planned with my parents and sisters, I had to content myself with something shorter. Still, It ended up being a good long enough ride on roads new to me. And it didn't rain, which was a welcome break.

The three deer and I
watch the Canby ferry cross
but I board alone

Cars, part 2

Six-hundred riders

chase the Lion of Flanders

Up. Down. Up. Down. Up.

On Saturday I joined a bunch of other cyclist, including about a half-dozen guys associated in one way or another with the team, for de Ronde van Oeste Portlandia. I did this ride last year and was glad to have some friends along for the suffering this time. The weather was beautiful - really, the nicest day so far this year, which probably helped drive the turnout, which was estimated over 600. I think that's incredible for something that's unofficial and just organized by word-of-mouth and the net. You can read more about it here and here.

Unfortunately, one of our teammates, John, was seriously injured on one of the descents when a driver made a left turn directly in front of him and a group of riders. John was probably traveling 30+ mph and the accident sent him over the truck and left him with a badly broken leg and numerous other injuries. Our group had been split in half by a wrong turn a little earlier, and I came upon the scene a couple minutes after the crash. Fortunately, John was conscious and

 responsive, but he was in a lot of pain. There's no telling for sure, of course, but what I saw was as good an argument for the value of a helmet as I have ever seen. We were all left fairly shell-shocked, and those who were literally at his side when the collision took place were quite traumatized. The comment that most struck me was "it looked like a bike explosion."

In a previous post I talked about the price we as a culture seem willing to pay in order to drive. For me, this tragedy puts a violent and angry exclamation on that. I'm sick of what feels like the senseless brutality that drivers of cars inflict on vulnerable cyclist and pedestrians. And I'm sick of the voices that dare to say that cyclist and pedestrians are somehow to blame because the roads were made for cars. I refuse to use the term "accident" for this type of violence because to do so implies that it was inevitable, and that there wasn't a human at fault when there was. I'm not claiming the driver assaulted John, but when someone is at the wheel of a car and his recklessness or lack of attention or poor driving skills cause injury, a crime has been committed. I don't say this out of malice toward the driver, who, if he's like most of us, must feel sick with remorse. But I say it because I believe that if things are ever going to change - if road safety for all users is ever going to be a priority, we need to see more bad drivers charged with a crime. I hate saying this, because I take no pleasure in anyone's punishment, regardless of what they have done. But the close calls are beginning to wear on me and those who love me. Those of us who choose to regularly commute by bike can recount frightening close calls by the dozens. And despite the familiarity with bikes that inner-Portland drivers have (and bless their hearts most of them are great at sharing the road), there's still far too much selfishness and aggression out there. I want the driver who hit John charged with a crime not because I want him punished, but because I want the rest of the drivers out there to get the message that they must take the responsibility of getting behind the wheel as serious as a heart attack. I want the same rules for the road that I have for my classroom - that is, doing the wrong thing must be harder and more uncomfortable than doing the right thing. When a motorist can send a cyclist to the hospital and get back behind the wheel and drive home, something is seriously wrong.

Face It

Your car, like mine

cannot leap through giant hoops of fire

or loop, upside down, in gleaming tunnels of steel

it cannot scale cliffs, ascend roadless peaks

or plow through towering drifts of snow

your car will never speed across Bonneville, 

cut midnight cookies in New York City,

or drag race in a parking garage

Your car is not sexy

and doesn't make you sexy either

it is not a weapon or a toy 

it does not symbolize freedom

independence America power

an animal or you

Your car, like mine

is an appliance 

like a washing machine or a refrigerator

good to have 

necessary to the job at hand

a tool fit to its purpose

and when your car has been used with gratitude

and carefully kept from carnage

guided through neighborhood streets

gently purring past children as they play

at the end of the age of the auto

your car, like mine

will come to a stop

maybe in a quiet pasture

to rest and rust and return

until all that remains

is a dull orange headstone

leeching iron back into the earth

photos by Dave Roth

Flat road in flat light

from my tires to the sky

seven shades of gray

Brevet #1

Someone referred to my first randonneuring ride two weeks ago as a "baptism," which was appropriate in terms of it being my first, but also in terms of wetness. Snoozeville wasn't a Episcopalian-style dip-your-fingers-in-the-holy-water sprinkling either, but a full-on Pentecostal take-me-to-the-river dunking. Apparently my soul still needed a bit more cleansing because Saturday's Birkie Brevet was more of the same.

After Snoozeville I kind of obsessed about the tweaks I could make that would allow me to double the distance while hopefully improving my comfort. I rode Snoozeville on my Poprad, which seemed a little stiff, and my position was not quite as upright as I wanted. Plus, the Fizik saddle was comfy to about 50 miles and then, not so much. Since I'm new to the whole rando thing I figure I'll just take each ride as an experiment. What works, stays, and what doesn't, well, it's just a bike ride - how bad can it get? So I thought about riding River (my 1986 Nishiki Riviera touring bike - which is also my commuting bike), but knew I had to make some changes. Since this was stuff I wanted to do anyway, the Birkie was the kick in the pants I needed to get it done. The stock bars were, like, 38cm, and the stem maybe 50mm. I've read that in a relaxed position with hands on top of bars the bar should be in a sight line with the front axle. Well, I was scrunched up and looking at the axle waaaayy out there in front of the bars. And the 0ld-school 600 brake levers, while cool looking, were too small for my hands and stuck out too far from the bar - they're just weird.

So I picked up some (barely) used Nitto Noodle bars at Citybikes, dug out a 100mm Technomic stem I had, and slipped on some old Dia-compe levers that fit my hands better. I also swapped out the old Fujita saddle for a Brooks Pro which came on the mid-80's Japanese made Bianchi I bought from a teammate last year and built up for my son's cruiser. Truth be told, the saddle was the main reason I bought the bike. I figured I was probably going to end up spending a hundred bucks for a nice saddle someday anyway, so it was practically like the bike was free, right? I told my son the bike could be his, but the saddle was mine. I also added a cheap Vetta computer from the REI outlet since I'm lousy at guestimating mileage. I finished the job with new cloth tape and 6 coats of shellac and River was ready to rando. But hedging my bets I also made some modifications to the Poprad. Teammate Greg sold me a slightly shorter stem for cheap, and Jeff generously gave me a Thompson post to replace the stock carbon one I had (I can't trust bike stuff that looks and feels like plastic.) I've read good stuff about WTB Rocket saddles, and Scott had one he offered me super-cheap, so I made those swaps as well.

Now it was time to experiment, and since I was on Spring Break, I had time to for test rides. The problem was, as soon as vacation started, I came down with the Cold From Hell. The teachers' curse. I'm not usually a believer in weather-induced sickness; I believe fresh air, regardless of the temperature or precipitation, is healthier than being stuck indoors with central air blowing all those germs around. But the symptoms started the Monday after the Snoozeville/Shamrock soakings, and by Friday before break it was clear I was losing the battle. Still, I had blocked out Wednesday for a solo scenic highway jaunt, and I really wanted to see how River handled and check out that new tunnel. Of course Wednesday dawned cold and wet. T suggested I stay home, or at least cut back my planned ride, and I said that sounded good - I'd just head out to the Sandy river and see how I felt. "Maybe I'll head up to Springdale and turn around there" I think I said. Ha. I doubt she believed me either. Of course, once in the saddle I felt great, the cough disappeared, and there was no way I was turning back early. Still lacking a handlebar bag/saddlebag, I decided to take a small backpack w/bladder. I also thought I'd try Kent's plastic-bag-between-the-socks idea since I really like my sandals. Verdict? The bike handled really well. Much less twitchy, more comfy and upright, no shimmy riding with no hands (handlebars more forward?), and the saddle was as comfy as I could expect for one new (to me). My hands and feet got cold, especially on the descent from Crown Point to Multnomah Falls, but I finally took off the full-finger cycling gloves and put on the rag wool ones, and my hands were warm the rest of the day. My feet eventually warmed up too - and stayed dry. The experiment was mostly successful, though 65 miles with a pack convinced me I didn't really want to do that for the Birkie. And the tunnel is nice - If you want to see it, get there soon while it still smells like fresh-milled cedar. Another plus to doing this ride on a wet and cold Wednesday was I had the whole highway to myself. I took the lane basically from the Womens' Forum Park to the tunnel and back, with almost no traffic. Including Marine drive and the Sandy river I saw one other bike all day, and that was in Gresham on my way home.

In the new tunnel

alone, sheltered from the rain

watching waterfalls

The next day T and I had our long planned and highly anticipated bike date to LRBC. I follow their blog, but it's a long way from Montavilla to St. Johns, and not really on the way to anywhere we go together, so we had never actually been there. I decided to ride the Poprad this time and see how it felt. I was still a little saddle-sore from the day before, but the Rocket saddle felt better the longer I rode. Strangely, I noticed that even though I only switched from a

100cm to a 90cm stem, I went from feeling too stretched out to feeling kind of scrunched. Hmm. (It wasn't until I got home and checked that I realized the carbonium seatpost I swapped out had a setback clamp. Ah-ha. So back went the orignal stem and it felt like I'd found the sweet spot.) The breakfast was splendid and the lattes spot-on. T and I have talked about opening our own breakfast/lunch/bakery place someday, and LRBC is definitely inspiration - it's really a beautiful little oasis of yumminess.

However, by Friday I was still obsessing over which bike to ride. Really, what it came down to was what I said about seeing the whole intro to randonneuring thing as a big fun experiment. In the end I decided that since I rode the Poprad in Snoozeville, it was River's turn. A year or so ago I exchanged a couple of emails with Joel Metz, asking all sorts of newby questions about bike style, components, geometry, blah blah blah. What he said, in essence, was "ride the bike you've got and go from there." It was good advice. The only thing I did different from the gorge ride was take a pannier instead of a backpack. I was a little worried I'd get some shimmy, since on my commute this arrangement can induce some tail-wagging-the-dog wobbling, but the new bar/stem must have cured it since I was able to ride no-hands with no-problem.

So - the brevet. I showed up not so early as last time, driving this time because I really couldn't think of another way to get there in time. I'll admit there was a moment in the blustery rain near Hillsboro when I was thinking "Do I really want to do another crappy weather ride?" and I almost turned the car around. I'm glad I didn't, and it was heartening to see so many folks in the lot who looked and sounded like they could think of no better way to spend a Saturday than riding all day in Oregon's coast range in the rain. We pulled out of Forest Grove just at dawn, and once we hit SR 6 I fell in with a group of 5 that included Pat from Seattle, Ian (?) from Olympia, Mike Johnson, and a couple others. Seemed like there was quite a contingent from the Puget Sound area on this ride. Though we lost contact for long stretches, these were the same guys I ended up finishing with; Mike and I rode and chatted together from the Glenwood control to the finish, and I ended up saving him from a long train ride home. I suppose If I have to drive, it helps to know I can give someone else a ride as well.

Rolling through Timber

like a flock of steel birds

one dog barks hello

Just about all this country was new to me. I'm a native Oregonian, but I honestly don't think I've ever been to Vernonia before. The closest I ever came, I think, was a couple years ago when a friend and I were returning from the Astoria 'cross race and we tried to come back that way, but were turned around by a wreck. Despite the constant rain, it really was a beautiful ride - it makes me want to come back on a sunny day sometime. Some observations: The guys I was with coming into the first control at Anderson Park wasted no time. I was munching cookies when Susan asked me if I wanted some coffee and I said "sure." When I turned around, those guys were all gone. Later, approaching the Birkenfield control/turnaround, I kept expecting to see them going the other way, but I only counted 5 riders - the lead pack of 4, followed 5 minutes later by a 'bent rider - before I got to the control. And there they all were, gathered around the tables, feet up, scarfing onion rings. I had plenty of time for another coffee and some fig bars, but I made sure I wasn't the last one left when they pulled out this time.

I hadn't noticed a tailwind coming into Birkenfield, so the headwind when I pointed back up the Nehalem river was a little disheartening. I did notice the sun trying to come out a couple times, But I don't believe it ever actually stopped raining. The climb up to and past the town of Timber seemed to pass pretty quick - I felt like I got a little charge when the mileage turned past the century mark. The last few miles back into Forest Grove Mike and I got nailed by a pretty good cloudburst/headwind, but still seemed to be making decent time. I think our check-in time was just shy of 4:30, and since I was optimistically hoping for 5:00, I was happy with that. we chatted and munched for a few minutes and hit the road for home.

What worked for me: I love the Noodle bars. In combo with the Technomic stem they just felt right and I could move around with them, sit up, whatever. The Brooks saddle was also surprisingly comfortable and I'll stick with it. I remembered the rag wool gloves this time and they made all the difference for keeping my hands warm. I actually started with polypro liners under regular short leather-palmed cycling gloves and changed out at the first control, noticing an immediate improvement. I also have a new appreciation for my trusty Burley jacket. I'm definitely lusting for the rando uniform, but my torso stayed pretty dry, and what little water did get in was wicked by the wool anyway. I decided to leave the wool Swobo knickers at home since I had some - how to say this? - chafing of a delicate nature on the Snoozeville ride. I went with my regular cycling shorts under Hind Drylete tights and I was golden. I also smeared chamois and self liberally with bag balm. I know some folks have issues with bag balm, and this was my first time using it for cycling. But I grew up on a farm milking cows, so for me, it's got a kind of nostalgic appeal. And I can't be sure, but I think the cows along the route knew and were smiling. And there was no chafing this time.

What didn't work: My feet got wet. It rained at least as hard on the gorge ride and they stayed dry. The only difference? For the Birkie I used thin produce bags between socks, but on the gorge ride I used plastic grocery bags. Maybe the longer ride just wore them out, or maybe they leaked from the top? But here's the really dumb thing. I have waterproof sealskinz socks, but I wanted to try the low-tech route - you know, as part of the experiment. I know, dumb, right? It gets better. I actually hauled the Sealskinz in my pannier for the entire ride without knowing I had them in there. Sheesh.

I also carried too much other stuff, most of it food. I had spare socks and a Marmot driclime windshirt that I never used, but they weighed next to nothing. I only carried one water bottle and that was fine since there was plenty of opportunity to refill. But seeing the onion rings in Birkenfield was a lesson in the art of refueling. I actually pulled out some food in the parking lot before starting, but here's what I carried and what I actually ate. In my jersey pockets I had 6 jumbo-sized whole wheat fig bars, a banana, and a flask of raspberry Hammer gel. I also had a couple dozen cats in my jacket pocket that I was popping like, well, candy. In the pannier I carried 1 Bagel w/peanut butter and homemade huckleberry jam (I don't know why, but I think huckleberries have near-mystical biking and hiking powers), about a pint of gorp, 3 Gorge Delight fruit bars, 1 Clif Bar, and 1 Builder bar. When I was done I still had 3 fig bars, most of the gorp, over half the Hammer Gel, 2 of the fruit bars, the Clif bar and the Builder bar, and all I bought along the way was coffee. I figure I had enough food for a full weekend campaign if my legs could have held out that long. Realistically, I could have stuffed everything I needed in my pockets and left the pannier behind.

What I really want for the future, though, is better weather. One thing I'm learning is that these randonneur folks are a social bunch, and I need more of that in my cycling life. I did some chatting, but I suspect that a lot of us were kind of huddled against the elements and in survival mode. Actually, I would have been fine and probably felt even better afterwards if I had done the ride slower, talked more, and stopped totake some pictures, but the weather on this day just wasn't conducive to that kind of ride.

Now the thought of 300K actually seems within the realm of possibility, especially if it's not raining and I can find some good onion rings. We'll see. One thing's for certain, I'm no longer a rando wannabe.

Snoozeville-Shamrock Rain Festival

Heavy clouds let loose

halfway through too numb to shift

welcome to Snoozeville

Part 1

When I first heard about randonneuring and the whole idea of long, non-competitive, self-supported rides, I knew I had to try it. Long rides are like meditation for me.  With randonneuring I could spend the day on a bike and see a lot of country, but I'd also get the social aspect of joining others if I wanted. Plus, a "rando," while not a race, is still a timed event, with the rider required to check in at designated "controls" and finish the ride within a specified timeframe. Theoretically, a rando rider could amble along at a very leisurely 15km/hr and still make the cut. But that's assuming no breaks, detours (accidental or intentional), flats, mechanical issues, muffins, naps, or picture taking. Route finding and problem solving are as important as endurance, which makes it even more appealing to me. And on Saturday I finally got my randonneuring fix.

The Snoozeville Populaire is the first event on the Oregon Randonneurs schedule and it's been on my calendar for months. Even though I've ridden a couple centuries, I was still nervous. Since I was determined not to drive, that meant a 4:30 A.M. wake-up to allow time for dressing, oats, stuffing the pockets and catching MAX at 6 for an hour-long train ride to Hillsboro. It also meant standing around the parking lot getting chilled once I got there. First lesson: it doesn't take 45 minutes to get checked in. Everyone seemed to know everyone else, but I met a couple people, admired a lot of bikes, and after a brief pre-ride pep talk,  we all headed out at 8 just as the rain started.

The route toured Washington county toward the east slope of the coast range. It felt fairly flat, especially compared with my ride last week. By the time we hit Dairy Creek for the out and back to Fern Flat and the first control, we were pretty spread out and I was finally warmed up. Being the total rando newbie I am, I didn't really know what I was supposed to do with the brevet card I was given. I mean, I knew there were questions to answer, and I knew that sometimes there would be volunteers at the control and sometimes not, but no one really explained how this all worked, and I was kind of embarrassed to ask (guy thing). So at Fern Flat - my first rando control point ever - I kind of flubbed it. I handed my card over and the volunteer signed it as I munched and chatted, then I tucked it away and headed back down the road. It wasn't until about 5 miles later that I looked at my cue sheet and realized that I was also supposed to answer a question about the color of the flags on the fence at the control. Dang! I figured that since the card had been signed I was probably OK, but the thought crossed my mind of conspiring at the next control to see if I could nochalantly bring up flag colors in the conversation and sneak my answer in late. One thing for sure, I knew I wasn't riding back to the control.

The ride from Dairy Creek through Banks and into Forest Grove was kind of rolling and really, really wet and windy. It felt like no matter which way the course turned, I had a headwind. Other than a spare pair of socks in my pocket, I was wearing everything I brought. The Swobo top and knickers were working fine, but my old thrashed Burley shoe covers had been taking on water steadily, and my hands were also wet and chilled. At one point I hit a roller and tried to shift to my small front ring and was surprised to find I didn't have the hand strength to nudge the left lever. I figured this ride would be a shakedown for hopefully longer rides and I got sucked in to making a couple miscalculations based on the fact it wasn't raining when I got up and the forecast was for a high of 50. Honestly, based on my normal 10 mile commute, I was more worried about overheating and having to strip layers than I was on being so chilled. Second lesson learned:  bringing layers you don't use beats first stage hypothermia every time. My rag wool gloves and waterproof socks weren't doing me any good in the closet at home. And a bag for extra stuff just moved higher up the wish list.

Pulling into Forest Grove, I was really glad Gregg was maning the control at Maggie's Buns. The cue sheet said "on the left," but I didn't realize it was on the left around the corner, and if Gregg hadn't shouted out, who knows when I would have figured it out. My hands were stiff enough I almost asked him to unzip my pocket to pull out my card - my manual dexterity was shot. As it was, it took me about 5 minutes with teeth and numb fingers to get my gloves off. I spent a couple minutes in the bathroom with the hot water tap, a couple more with the Most Necessary Cup of Coffee ever, and hit the road. 

That had to be the most revitalizing coffee break I've ever had. The last 15 miles flew by, partly because I knew it was the last 15 miles and I pushed myself hard enough I actually warmed up. But I also realize that had this been a 200K brevet, I would need to do things differently to keep from having to abandon the ride. Cruising along Evergreen on the last 5 miles, I was anticipating the coldest part of the day still to come; an hour-long cool-down on MAX in wet clothes. I was glad I didn't drive, but admitted to myself it sure would have been nice to have a dry change of clothes and a beer at the finish. Ah well. The train wasn't as bad as I feared and my knickers were bone-dry when I got home. I love wool.

Conclusions after rando # 1:  I'm still not happy with the way my bike feels on these longer rides. I suspect the stem is too long, and maybe I still don't have a saddle that's going to go the distance. My lower back got sore early and while short breaks off the bike made all the difference, I'd prefer it if it didn't happen at all. I imagine the cold and tense shoulders contributed as well. I'm curious how River would have handled the ride? It's probably a less stiff bike, but I was nervous (justifiably it turns out) about riding without a computer, and the 27-inch tires on it are maybe less than ideal. Maybe I'll pick up one of these this week. And like I said, some kind of bag is going to be needed. I didn't even bring a camera (Partly because of the forecast - thanks John and Gregg for the photos!)

I don't feel like I've earned the right to call myself a "randonneur" yet. Somehow, the 100k distance feels more like a rando with training wheels. I really want to ride the Birkie Brevet, and if I finish that, I'll feel like the training wheels came off. For now, I'm still a wanna-be.

Part 2

I was hoping that the clouds would have wrung themselves dry in time for the second act of my mini-epic weekend, but there was no such luck. Shamrock Run morning dawned with more cold, wet, and wind. For me it meant more oats, more layers, and more MAX, and I joined a considerably larger group than Saturday's where, once again, I got to stand around getting cold while waiting for the 15K run to begin. If I had been sensible, I would have signed up for a shorter distance, but that would have felt like cat-ing down, and since the registration fee was the same, I figured I might as well get my money's worth. Plus, I've got a thing for running up Terwilliger, and in Sunday's rain and headwind, the climb turned out to be the full-meal-deal. Once we got started I warmed up pretty quick and the run was surprisingly comfortable. I didn't notice any fatigue from Saturday, and hammered it pretty hard the last two miles. Once I crossed the line I didn't have any desire to hang around in the rain for the complimentary beer and chowder, so I handed my tickets to someone heading into the beer garden and boarded the #15. I made it to PMC in time to grab some dry clothes I had stashed in our car and was dressed and dry in time to join my family for the service and potluck after, where I loaded both my dinner and my dessert plates and did more than my part in draining the coffee pot. A good weekend.

Weather With You

Cue Theme Song:

This winter is refusing to go down without a fight. Saturday I had a splendid long solo ride. Upper 30's/low 40's, a few miles of cold rain, some sun, very light traffic and almost no other riders for 60 miles. Sunday I was pulling weeds in the garden getting ready for planting the first seeds. Crocuses are up, forsythia and daffodils just ready to bloom. saw my first cherry blossoms along the Clackamas river on my ride Saturday.

Then this morning as I neared the end of my commute the snow started coming down in Gresham and continued off and on throughout the day. No accumulation, but it drew plenty of complaining from colleagues and on the blogs. I liked it, I like riding in it, and I said so. But coming home into a headwind I got smacked by a sleet storm that left me huddled over my bars, head down to keep from exposing my face to the stinging barrage. Brutal.

Again, I got a couple of baiku out of it.

Riding through fresh snow
steaming under a bright sky
winter won't let go

Sleet and a headwind
ahead I can see blue sky
here it's still winter

Nailed

Riding toward a sky
colored like an old black eye
looking for revenge

Shine

After the night storm

morning sun on rain-swept streets

below mountain snow

Wind 101

March first on skyline
two echelons are learning
in the school of wind

Three Good Days

I needed this three-day weekend. Feeling stretched thin and dog-tired. Fighting the bug that laid my poor girls out for a week. Dug out a couple ancient rhododendron stumps out to make room for fruit trees. Flowers are nice, but I want to grow something I can eat; we're thinking maybe a fig and an Asian pear? I also went for a long run, and joined a team mate for a couple hours on a mountain bike in the mud of Forest Park. It felt good to do some riding that was out of my usual element. I'm still too tentative on downhills, but the practice was good and he was patient with me.

I've recently found myself uninspired by my bike commute. Normally, this time is precious to me, when I clear my head, fill my lungs, and get tuned into the weather of the day, or coming home when I unwind from a day spent with hormonal and awkward adolescents. Maybe it's the Coho, which seems worse this winter. Or maybe the cold rain we had last week, or the weeks or riding both ways in the dark, shoulders tensed by traffic and icy patches. Even my bike seemed weary, groaning and creaking pitifully. I suspected some drivetrain malady and took it in for a diagnosis. "Your chain is beyond stretched." was the verdict. So another thing I did this weekend was some bike doctoring. I installed a new chain, recycled a pretty decent Shimano 600 6-speed freewheel. overhauled the hubs, and replaced the cables, housing, and brake pads. Now it rides like a new bike, but cheaper. And the past two days have been glorious; clear and windless, frosty in the morning, and just a hint that any day now the sun will crest the horizon before I get to work. My bike is purring happily as well.

As I pulled around the back of the building this morning, looking down at the football field I saw this:

Daybreak, gulls face east

gilded by the sun's first flame

in a frost-bound field

I also got out for a Valentine's day date with T for brunch at the Country Cat, and our own little economic stimulus pilgrimage. Now I know I've recently been preaching the virtues of saving and I'm not backing away from that. Indeed, part of me wants to see the economy tank even further in the belief that, like an alcoholic who has to hit bottom before he can begin recovery, our economy is not yet at a place where those in charge will acknowledge the folly of a system dependent on consumer debt. However, the government cut us a check last week. Or rather, returned the part of our taxes owed back to us, and we spent part of it on a new camera. The old Canon died on us just before Christmas, and T has been talking for over two years about getting a "real" camera that takes better pictures than the dinky point & shoot we've relied on. I think we made a good decision.

It's been a revelation how much we've been missing. Colors are vivid and skin looks alive, not pasty or washed out, and we can capture motion instead of complaining about blur. With three kids who are growing up too quickly, it's a purchase I don't feel guilty about making. It helped that we were able to get a good deal from a local company instead of going the online or big-box route. I'm trying to keep my money close to home, even if a bunch of it eventually goes to a Chinese camera factory.

I also tried to get one of these so I could make one of these. Almost pulled the trigger because I thought I had a big team discount at River City, but it turns out the discount I hoped for didn't apply to "bikes and frames" which the xtracycle apparently is - because you attach a wheel to it. And feeling cheap and stubborn, I balked at the lesser discount they offered. I'm regretting it, a little, but we're getting closer to the transformation from THIS

To THIS

Finally, as February wears on, the allowance envelope was getting thin. I was down to my last $14 and was unsure if it would be enough for the new M Ward which was released Tuesday. So that night, after washing up the dinner dishes I did what any desperate music fan would do - scrounged up some cans and headed to Safeway. 4 dollars richer I figured I could swing the purchase and skip the lattes until the end of the month. Even better, MM had it on sale, (My 30+ year love affair with Music Millennium, and my regrets for straying in search of better prices at Best Buy/Target/Amazon I'll save for another post) so I took a look through the used bin and found this. T and I had just been talking about Tapestry at dinner - how it's one of those seminal albums that I never actually owned, probably because in my younger days I just wasn't into "chick" music. Now that I have a wife and 2 daughters who are big fans of the Gilmore Girls, and I listen to the lyrics more than I used to, so I've developed an appreciation for some music that I used to ridicule. Rumours by Fleetwood Mac is another example - I can remember in high school how much the music nerds I hung out with hated them (though I'll bet more than one had a Stevie Nicks poster in his bedroom.) Now I see Rumours for the masterpiece it is, and though I still don't much care for Stevie Nicks, I have to admit that "Dreams" is a pretty decent piece of writing for a 28-year old heartbroken coke-head. And Lindsey Buckingham was - and is - a genius.

Thawing

I couldn't decide, so here's two versions:

Riding in the dark

no sign of the sunrise yet

a bird is singing

Lone bird in the dark

sings from bare tree as I pass

he knows what I know

Saturday Tabor Run

Climbing through the fog

Until sun shines on rooftops

Riding on the clouds

Technically I guess this should be called a "Raiku" since it came fom running, not biking. It was icy as well - I was trying to run flat-footed to keep from slipping. Passed a group of 4 bikers out for a training ride coming down as I was heading up. "Careful, it's slick as snot up there," said one.  All of them were on the brakes and dabbing one unclipped foot. Be careful out there. 

Blessing

While I sleep, snow comes
I wake from dreams of regrets
and ride in white peace

Two Fools

The Coho has been crazy the past week. To most people (in cars) it's a minor annoyance - unless it results in this:

The truck had Virginia plates. Nothing says "Welcome to Oregon" like a tree dropped in your pickup bed. Hey, we've already got this guy, these, and our beloved tree-slaying rodent. I say tie it down, stick a "Wide Load" flag on it, and haul it back to Virginia as firewood.

Anyway, since my normal morning commute points me at the mouth of the Columbia gorge for ten miles, I've become somewhat of an east wind aficionado. Most winters we get maybe half a dozen spells of one-to-three days of blow. Wind speed is kind of irrelevant, so I use the Velomann wind scale, where a blow of 1 is mildly annoying and means I get a shorter shower at work, a 5 means, like a sailor in a storm, I could go down in a crosswind, and a 9-10 howler brings flying debris and downed power lines. It's been in the 5 range for several days, with a good 24 hours in the 9's in east county (fortunately that was over the weekend and I didn't have to ride.) I know math is not my strength, but I was calculating that at an average riding speed of 15 MPH into a headwind of 25 MPH, I'd get to work quicker riding backwards.

Occasionally I find myself thinking that if I could ride into the wind like a Zen archer, I could learn to slip between the currents, untouched and tranquil. I'll work on that.

On the plus side, I got this Baiku - I call it "Two Fools"

Crow flies by laughing

at me cursing the east wind

to him it's all play