Planning
A couple of
years ago after doing a three day credit-card-stay-in-hotels trip on my racing
bike, I decided that I’d like to try “real” touring. This spring I sprung for a new Trek 520
touring bike. From there, I spent some
time puzzling over maps looking for reasonable routes. My initial plan was three days (loaded this
time). Somewhere along the way I decided
that five days was a nicer number.
Distance-wise, the plan was for 60 miles a day – I didn’t want get too
ambitious for my first tour. When I
settled on the
Five days, four nights and 350
miles was the final deal. I’d stay at a
hotel for the first night and camp at State Campgrounds the next three. I would have preferred camping for all four
nights but finding places to stay was pretty much driven by where I’d have to
stop for the day. Since there are not
exactly a lot of road alternatives in this area, I was fortunate to find the
campgrounds conveniently spaced.
I considered being dropped off or picked
up to shorten the mileage but starting and leaving from my house had a certain
appeal to it. The cool thing about
loaded touring is the feeling of self sufficiency -- Pedaling along with all
that you need -- a person could just keep right on riding and riding if he were
so inclined. Ahhh, bliss.
I averaged about 150 miles per
week in the months leading up to the trip.
My bike-commute to work helped to run up the mileage. (8
miles in, 15 miles (the scenic route) home).
My commute consisted of varying
intensity workouts. Although the
slog-along slow days didn’t do much for my cardiovascular conditioning or thigh
muscle development – the daily commute was I think critical in getting my
sit-bones in shape. I think that
there’s not a saddle made that is perfectly comfortable – the best you can do
is to find one that doesn’t actually hurt, and then get used to it.
On the weekends I’d usually try to
get in at least one long ride of 50 to 70 miles.
On the days I didn't ride, I did
bit of running (3 miles or so). The
main reason I tried to cross train was that I was more worried about accidental
injury than training injuries. It seems
I throw my back out at least once a year whilst doing something stupid like
reaching for my toothbrush. I figured
the better all around condition I was in, the less likelihood of the stupid
boo-boo either before or (yikes) during my trip.
Another side effect of the daily
commute was building a bit of mental toughness. Doing it every darn day, whether I really
felt like it or not, in sometimes less than perfect weather was at least on a
small scale similar to what the touring ride might be like. Quite honestly though, I looked forward to my
commute and rarely wasn’t in the mood to ride.
Just say that out loud and see how silly it sounds “Not in the mood to
ride” … borderline absurd.
In the weeks building up to the
trip, I did a couple of 70 miler's and tried to
include the biggest hills I could find.
In the week just before the trip (when my new panniers finally arrived),
I did my first mostly-loaded ride. A
loaded bike feels sluggish. Surprise, surprise.
One way or another I logged about
1600 training miles prior to the trip.
Whether Weather matters
It had been an extremely wet and
hot summer. One of my concerns was
getting caught in five days of dreary gray or worse some wicked thunder and
lightning storms. Twice I went for
long training rides when the weather guessers were predicting thunderstorms
with the express purpose of getting caught in the rain; Each
time I came home miserably dry. Murphy being the kind of guy that he is kept the wet where I
wasn’t.
I've commuted in the rain many
times. I’ve no reason to believe that
my rain gear would fail me for longer rides, but since "breathable"
and "waterproof" are on the opposite ends of the spectrum, I could
imagine worse case scenarios of hot humid wet conditions where I'd have to
decide between riding in the open rain and sweating to death under a poncho. As with many things – what’s good for a short
duration may not be the optimal solution for a long duration.
A bit about the Bike
The geometry of the touring bike
is a bit more stretched out than your typical “racing” bike. I’ve been plagued by neck and back aches when
going for long rides on my racing bike so I figured the right thing for this
very long ride would be a bike actually designed for long rides. (Being in the mood to buy a new bike didn’t
hurt the decision making process either).
The frame of a Touring Bike is also built a bit sturdier which makes for
a more stable ride when fully loaded down with packs. I think I appreciated the extra sturdiness;
the geometry I think is more hype than anything else. Fully loaded, I was carrying about 40 extra
pounds.
What really helped me in the pain
in the neck department was that I bought a Stem extender which raised the
handlebars about 8 inches. Wow. What a difference. (And to think that it only took me 20 years
to figure that out.) One more comfort
feature that I’m pretty proud of is my uniquely modified Aero Bars. They look a bit dorky, but add a couple of
extra hand positions.
Day 1:
False Starts
One last tightening tug on the
rear pannier strap and it broke. Damn! Luckily
knots are one of the things that I know and I was able to fix it. Not a good way to start the day. Oddly enough, it didn’t even rattle me. Given the journey I was starting, if I
couldn’t handle a broken strap then maybe I ought not to go. My second oops before I was even out of the
driveway was that I forgot sun screen for my head. My vented helmet gives me geeky looking tan
lines on my very thin-haired scalp.
Starting the trip with a sunburned head would not be a good thing. Neither last minute whoops
dampened my mood. I was excited to be
getting on the road albeit (gasp) 10 minutes late. The saga start time:
On the road
Around mile five I started to
lament about the last minute additions to the pack. Although I had gone on partially packed
training rides, this was the first time on the road with the real deal. The bike felt more than a bit heavy and
sluggish and the weather guessers were right about the wind -- It was at least
15mph and straight at me. I couldn’t
help but have a few last minute thoughts about what the heck I was getting
myself into.
By mile ten I was past most of the
familiar potholes and starting to make friends with my bloated bike.
At twenty miles I bonked a
bit. Of course it might have been that I
was just anxious for an excuse to break into my stash of "Cafeinated Chocolate Gu". Tasty stuff and it picked me right up.
A bit corny
For some reason I think that a
picture of the bike in a corn field would be cool. The stalks are easily eight feet tall and
deep lush green. If more people could
see these lush green fields, I'm betting there would be less creamed corn for
sale on aisle three.
Never got around to stopping for a
picture. Once you settle into it, a good
mile melting rhythm has a momentum to it that is not easily broken.
Moo
I still moo at cows when I pass
them. Doesn’t everybody? They usually give me a good long glance and
seem to accept me as a two-wheeled goofy looking kin.
Touring Vs Racing
During most of my training rides I
tended to push to the limits. Even the
longer rides I usually treated as workouts and would ride hard enough to work
up a good sweat and be exhausted at the end.
It felt odd to ride at a slower
than usual pace. I’ve got to keep
reminding myself that I've plenty of
time, and of course unlike the training rides, I will not have the luxury of
taking the day off if I should over do it.
Post Card Travel
In a car you tend to bump over
little bridges with no more than an ouch and maybe glimpse. On a bike you get to peek back into the trees
and wonder how far back the brook goes and wonder about its source and
sometimes see a waterfall. There's
something to be said for slow motion travel.
Even a bike may be too fast.
Maybe the hiking bug will bite me next.
Fickle Winds
The head wind is really a
bummer. Head winds whisk away your
energy. I’d rather have a good solid
hill. With hills you can build a relationship. Hills are comforting and steady. Battles with hills usually end in a
draw. I win for having conquered it --
The hill is still there when I’m done -- Unchanged.
Who stole my house?
Arrived at the hotel (or where the
hotel was supposed to be) around
Dinner Choices
I’m pretty darn hungry after a
long day of pedaling. One option would
be to stay holed up in the hotel and gnaw on energy bars (ok, not really an
option, but I always like to bound problems and analyze alternatives). I didn't pass anything interesting on the way
in, but I think I saw some civilization within walking distance. Riding the bike to dinner seemed wrong --
Very very wrong.
Since this would probably be my last civilized meal in a few days I
walked on past the fast food places a-plenty and settled on AppleBee's
Bar and Grill.
The silly hostess asked if I
wanted Bottle or Tap (on tap is always better).
Her follow up foolish question was tall or small? Sheesh, where do
they find these people! The first
Tall-from-the-Tap slipped down pretty fast and easy. It usually takes a while to re-hydrate after
a ride, and I know beer isn't the preferred method of hydration, but sometimes
you just have to go with the flow.
Since this is my "last meal" before the camping part begins I
go for the fish and chips -- something I most certainly will not be attempting
over an open fire.
Day 2:
Good morning, day two! Much warmer today, and my friend the wind,
though shifting a bit seems to be mostly still from the north. It shouldn’t be as much of a pain today as it
was yesterday.
Ahh the
feel of fresh legs in the morning -- Nothing like it. I felt a bit stiff
but mostly OK. If I were a whiner I
could regale you with tales of minor chaffing and other sundry aches and pains,
but mostly I felt good. Yesterday was
the "escape". Today, and the
next couple of days, I'm into the real part of the ride. Did I mention I felt good!?
Morning temperature was in the
50's and I was almost going to wear the windbreaker but decided to start
without and see if I'd warm up. Good
thing – some huge hills start the day. A
good steep hill is a reasonable strong coffee substitute and warms you up quite
nicely too.
Heading east into the bright sun I
was also tempted to don the sunglasses.
A day of squinting can sap a lot of strength. I opted to go bare-eyed; the morning was just too darn pretty to be
tinted. Additionally, since I had to
wind my way out of town, sunglasses can sometimes allow pot holes to hide in
the shadows.
ZIG-ZAG
Impromptu Course
Correction? Last minute route
modification? Lost? Never!
I only programmed way points into
the GPS, not the entire road so it isn’t unusual to look down and see my
current position slightly to the left or right of the straight-line connections
that go from point to point.
At the top of the second big hill
I started to get this sinking feeling that I was on the wrong road. Last night’s hotel was on Route Three, and I
was to take Route Three all the way to cranberry lake. Couldn’t be simpler, right?
It was one of those doubly marked
deals -- through town two highways sharing the same signs. I started out on Route3/Route 26. After the second big climb of the morning I
noticed the signs suddenly only reflecting 26 (no more mention of 3).
The tiny GPS screen is good for
close up decisions but scrolling around to see if this road would get me to
where I needed to be is a real pain. A
waved to a nice gray haired lady pulling out of her driveway and asked her if
this road would get me to
Yep, about ten miles and I was
back on the planned route. Stopped for coffee and a muffin to celebrate.
Long Stretches
I love the long stretches of open
road where the only sound is the tires humming to the road and the faint
metallic whir of chain meshing with gears.
Goosed by a truck
Trucks whoosh by making their own
wind and take a pocket of my air with them, blowing my shirt off my back and
nearly up over my head.
Wheels wobble but they don't fall off
The wobble in my front wheel is
worse today. I must have packed a bit
differently. It's particularly
noticeable when I ride on top of the handlebars. Very annoying.
Bug-Napping
I picked up a grasshopper on my
front pannier. He rode along for a mile
or so. At first I thought it fun, but
after a while I started to worry that maybe his little bug-mother might be
worried, or maybe this bug *was* the mother and I was taking her far far away. I felt
better when it turned around and faced forward.
At least if it could see where it was going I could feel less
responsible.
Fear of Being Bored
Just about everyone I've told
about the trip has gotten around to the "Why" question. I still don't know. I think it's the “because it's there”
mountain climbing thing. Another question
I get a lot is “what will you do? Won't
you be bored?” Before the trip -- I had
no answer.
One of my long time phobias is
fear of being bored. I think I inherited
it from my dad. I don't remember his
exact words but vividly remember an incident with him being very mad when
someone threw out some of his magazines.
Dad worked long long hours and I don't think I
ever saw him really sit and read. Even
so, when he found that someone had thrown out some of his magazines he said
words to the effect that he was saving them for something to do in his
retirement.
I admit to being a bit afraid at
the start that I would be bored and wondering if I could stand spending so much
time with myself. Now, after the trip,
I can't tell you what all I thought about but I can say that I was not
bored. Not for a single second.
Parts is Parts
One of the things to do
continually throughout the ride (and especially in the early miles) is to take
a simple inventory of body parts. One at
a time check with each part and make sure it's relaxed and OK. Sometimes the results may surprise you. Like sun screen, you won't notice a misplaced
or stiff body part until it’s too late.
My neck and back (usually my problem areas) feel remarkably good.
A single black cloud
Out of nowhere a single black
cloud appeared. The rest of the sky
was spotted with puffy clouds but right over my head came
a single very black cloud. It rained on
me for about 5 minutes. It was near the
end of the day and the rest of sky showed no signs of supporting the rouge
cloud so I didn't mind (it actually felt a little bit refreshing). It did make me think a bit about my packing
strategy. I had read enough tips on
touring to have my rain jacket on top just in case it was needed, but I really
hadn't give much thought to the order of the rest of my stuff. To the extent possible I should probably have
things like the tarp on top and add a little more method to the madness. Just as it is important to not have to
rummage through your underwear in a rainstorm to get at your rain jacket -- it
stands to reason that setting up camp in the rain probably has a certain sensible
pecking order to it. It's hard to plan
for foul weather on a good day. I'll put
it on my list of things to worry about.
Other than making a mental note to remember to bring the rain jacket
into the tent tonight, I decided to worry about efficient foul weather packing
another time. I'd let experience teach
me.
The Right Response
Pulled into the
campground at
Sort of funny, just as she was
finishing up and giving me the camp rules and directions to my site she got a
strange look on her face and started to apologize. “Oh, I'm so sorry”, she said, “I gave you a
site at the far end of the park.” I
assured her that after 70 miles another mile or so wasn't going to kill me.
Flies with teeth
While checking in, black flies
(house flies with teeth) bit the crap out my ankles. I wonder if I was providing nourishment for
their little bug bodies or were they biting just to be mean. I also wonder what they eat or who they bite
when I'm not there. Is a bug’s life so
haphazard as to depend on a person happening by just at the right time to
prevent them from going to their little bug beds hungry? I put on some bug juice when I got to my site
and was bothered no more.
The Trucking Life
Right before turning into the
campgrounds I passed a Semi truck parked on the road with the driver futzing
behind it. I waved and went on my
way. While waiting to check in, a guy on
a bike pulled up behind me. The trucker
guy packs his bike (and a kayak he tells me) in the back of his truck. Not a bad way to travel.
Buckles with knuckles
I sort of noticed when I stopped
at the last water stop that when I held my hand out for change my fingers sort
of curled in an odd way. Later on when
setting up camp I found that I had pretty much lost control of the outside
fingers on both hands. If I kept my
hands curled (in the shape of the handlebars) they felt ok, but if I tried to
straighten them out my hands were numb and without strength. I clawed my way through unbuckling the packs
and setting up the tent doing my best to try to get feeling back in my
paws. For a while they seemed to be
getting worse and I was worried.
I had read about folks getting
numb hands (and other numb body parts).
On other long rides I had suffered mild numbness but it usually went
away almost as soon as I got off the bike.
This numb was a new (and a much more severe) numb.
After setting up the tent I was
generally feeling pretty crappy. Partly
from the numb hands and bumming about whether I might have to call off the rest
of the trip. Permanent injury was never
part of the travel plans. It was a bit
chilly and along with general fatigue that sets in after a long day of riding,
I could tell I was still a bit dehydrated.
Since arriving I had had only one bottle of water which I knew was not a
good thing. I decided to break out the
camp stove and make a cup of soup. The
warm cup felt good on my cold stiff paws and something warm in my belly felt
pretty good too.
The bouillon was an afterthought – it’s now promoted to the regular list
for next trip.
I decided to try not to worry any
more about my hands and see how they felt in the morning.
Free Trees
Firewood around state parks is
never a problem (if you have a car). There
are usually numerous places that'll sell you a log or two. Hauling logs on the bike isn't so very
practical so I was delighted to find that the previous campers had left behind
a nice bundle of firewood.
Soul Food for
I was looking forward to getting
creative for dinner but unfortunately the country store next to the camp
grounds had pretty slim pickings. I
ended up with hot dogs. Although they
may not be so good for the belly, roasting a dog on a stick over a crackling
fire is very good for the soul. No
complaints!
Mighty Neighborly
The guy camping next door noticed
I rode in on a bike. On his way into
town stopped and asked if I needed anything.
I said I was all set. Later he
walked over and we got to talking and he asked if he could offer me a
beer. I said yes! We sat around and swapped man-stories for a
bit. I was feeling pretty secure since I had after-all just pedaled in. He eventually won with stories of back
country mountain biking where he dropped his bike into ten feet of water.
Day 3:
My hands felt a little better in
the morning and after struggling with all the buckles decided that there was no
reason for real worry. Since they had improved,
I convinced myself that I wasn't permanently hurting anything. I'd just make an extra effort to change hand
positions more and try not to lean on them so much. When curled around the handlebars they
functioned just fine (I could shift and work the breaks so riding safely was
not an issue).
If making hot soup the night
before (albeit only from bouillon) had not convinced me -- hot coffee and
oatmeal for breakfast sealed the deal.
Bringing the camp stove was a VERY good idea. For coffee I brought Turkish Coffee. Basically you
pulverize regular coffee grounds ‘til they are powdery. Pour in boiling water and wait until all the
grounds have sunk to the bottom. Very strong and very good.
Just don’t get greedy about getting that last drop or you end up with a
mouthful of mud (which sorta wrecks the good coffee
experience).
Sitting on a log
sipping hot coffee whilst watching the mist lift off the lake -- Not a bad way
to start a day.
It took me two hours to break camp
and get on the road. Partial blame goes
to the numb hands and the other blame goes to the darn pretty morning. Even though I was in no hurry I didn't feel
very organized. I think I need to work
on the whole efficiency thing. Even
though I have a lot of crap I'd like to think that if it were pouring down
raining I could manage to get out in less than two hours. Maybe I'd try a new method tomorrow morning. Something to put on the think-about-list as I headed out to start
the day.
Mummy on a log
To save weight, both the sleeping
bag and air mattress were of the mummy variety.
They were both a bit more claustrophobic than I thought they would
be. I don't know where my feet wanted
to go but they sure didn't like being trapped in the bottom of the mummy
bag. Another issue with the mummy
mattress was that is was sort of like balancing on a log.
As easy as falling off a …
Aside from falling off the log a
few times, I slept pretty well. It was a
reasonably warm night. If it weren't for the bugs I could have slept under the
stars.
I think it’s a law
What goes down must come up. I started off the morning with some nice downhills. Since I
hadn’t reached the highest elevation of the trip yet, I knew I'd be paying for
the delightful descents later.
Problem Solved
My wobbling wheel is no more. It turns out that the bag strapped tightly to
the handlebars with camera and stuff in it was the source of the problem. I rearranged it and left it flopping loose
and the wobble went away. It sort of
makes sense -- a big weight on the top and the panniers on the bottom of the
stem create an unstable twisty fulcrum physics
thingy.
Panic Attacks
After Monday's goof, I
occasionally get a mild panic sense that I'm on the wrong road or going in the
wrong direction. The GPS is my
reassuring security blanket.
Not on this trip, but I have on
occasion after a stop at a store, started off in the wrong direction. I tend to be a creature of habit and when
driving tend to stop at station on the right side of
the road for easy in easy out considerations.
I don't always have the luxury of a right side stop when on a bike. When I break my stop on the right side rule, out of habit I have
come out and turned right, which is of course wrong.
Playful hills
Rolling Hills are fun to play
with. Try to get enough speed on the
down to make it up the next. I'm sure
the downhill feels a bit used and the uphill feels a bit cheated. As much as I like the playful rolling variety
I've a healthy respect and fondness for the ones with steep character, too.
Uppy-Downy
Today was an uppy
downy day, with more ups than downs. Tomorrow is projected to be more of a
downy-uppy day with the trend mostly down. Although I've found that it's not the trend
that gets you, it's the surprise steep places that jump from nowhere.
Hill Rules
I get a bit squeamish about
crashing downhill any faster than 30-35 miles per hour. On the practical side, a crash at 30 probably
hurts just as much as a crash at 40 but be that as it may, 30 is about my limit.
My typical position for descending
is with my hands feathering the brakes keeping my speed within comfortable
limits. The sweet spot of the descent is
when I approach the bottom and see that the way is clear to the end -- I shift
my hands away from the brakes, crouch for an extra burst of speed, then sort of
sit up and enjoy swooshing onto the flat.
Letting that last bit of gravity decide my max speed is a small
thrill. It is what it is.
When speed slows to around 20 it’s
time to start pedaling to maintain the momentum as I approach the next roll up
and click smoothly the pedals into lower and lower gears. The game is to try to keep the same pressure
on the pedals and cadence as constant as possible. On longer climbs, perfection is to find the
right gear and settle into a perfect climbing rhythm.
Near the top is often a short
steep stint that depending on mood either slips me into the next lower gear
(assuming I have one left) or for fun I stand up and power over the crest. Nothing beats the exhilaration of completing
a climb and just at the peak sitting back on the seat and click-click-click
smoothly shifting back up into downhill cruising speed.
Even if I decide to not pedal down
the hill, it's still a good idea to shift into a higher gear. It can be very disconcerting to try to pedal
at the bottom going 20 plus mph in a 5mph gear.
Knees and free-wheeling feet flying all over the
place. Yikes.
wrong wrong wrong
I brought a radio, and my Palm
Computer. Not once was I even tempted to
use either one. It just felt wrong. When planning I struggled mightily with “the
purpose” of the trip. Though paved roads and a GPS doesn’t
exactly qualify the trip as rustic, I still had to decide what to escape “with”
and what to escape “from”.
An open Mind
By the third day I've run out of
cluttered thoughts. Now I am just being
on a bike. Thinking
about everything and nothing. Very peaceful.
In the first day I found myself
thinking of work and immediately tried to banish the thoughts. Since then, I decided that if work thoughts wanted
a turn, it was alright. Some drifted in,
had there say and drifted back away.
It's better that way. That’s the
beauty of having all of this time.
Hum if you don’t know the words
Odd how old
tunes would drift in and out of my head. Some lingered a bit longer than I would have
liked, especially since I rarely remember more than a catchy partial
verse. I noticed that if I tried to get
a song out of my head it would stay even longer. It seemed more effective to just let them run
their course and let them stay for as long as they liked.
Knobby Tires Go Slow
In the distance I saw a
biker. I gained steadily and pulled up
beside him. After exchanging the usual
where you been and where you going I bid him good day and pedaled away. I passed a couple of other touring folk later
in the day (going in the opposite direction).
Proper Planning
After yesterday’s
hot-dog deal, I was determined to not suffer the same fate again. I stopped early and bought a beautiful steak,
an ear of fresh picked corn and a spud suitable for baking. One of my last minute packing additions was
an insulated school-lunch bag. I poked
the steak in the bag and thought what better to keep it cold than a big ole can
of beer? I figured that if it turned
out to be the other way around and the steak kept the beer cold, it wouldn't be
the worst thing in the world to sip a tepid beer whilst lamenting my spoiled
meat. As it turned out, they both kept
each other nicely chilled.
Insulting the Meat
I had mixed emotions cutting the
meat kebabs with my bike-tool knife. On
the one hand it felt good to be making do with my minimalist toolset. On the other hand, it seemed a little wrong
to be cutting the beautiful (soon to be confirmed delicious) piece of meat with
a pen-knife. I think next trip I'll add
another ounce to the pack and pack a real knife.
Camping people are Good People
A prime campsite right on the
beach and nice neighbors again too. They
offered me firewood and beer. Camping
folk renew your faith in human nature. I
didn't have a decent place to cook the steak so ended up cooking it shish kebab
marshmallow style. I felt like a caveman
sizzling meat on a stick over an open fire.
I had brought salt and pepper but there was no need. The steak melted in my mouth and was
delicious. Roasted
corn and potato equally so.
MVP award
The Most Valuable Packed award
goes easily to the insulated bag and the shish kebab skewer.
The skewer took virtually no room,
added no weight, and was the perfect tool for cooking a steak.
Dusk
Another nice
sunset.
Not spectacular, but any time you can watch the sun go down from your
hammock -- that's a good night.
Nothing better than the quiet time when the final throes of sun paint wispy
clouds pink and the mountains go from green to black. The pine tree tops look particularly stark
and jagged against the fading light.
Man Fires
The borrowed logs were enough to
cook my meal but not enough for the requisite evening fire and stick
poking. After the sun went down I went
for a walk through the park to live vicariously through other peoples’
fires. I was happy to see that most were
well tended by men with sticks.
Happy Campers
I think the closest thing I heard
to an unhappy kid was a boy denying to his dad that he did something or
other. I was out of earshot before he
got around to blaming his brother.
Writing Right
I think I've re-discovered my
fondness for putting pen to paper. Something magical about words when they flow from pen to page with
your own hand. I filled many
pages with random musings (some of which you are reading re-typed now) but
mostly I wrote for the joy and satisfaction of writing. Writing tends to be more careful and
deliberate than the act of pecking words out on the keyboard. It feels very good to sit and write. Since it was quite dark, it was also a good
way for me to play with my fancy camping light.
Doctor Doctor
My hands were still numb and fumbley but not as bad as last night. I’ll worry when I get back, but for now, I
was so thoroughly enjoying myself that the worrisome numbness wasn’t much of a
worry.
Real Dark
Before crawling in to bed around
10, I couldn't help but notice the night sky.
I had forgotten just how many stars you can see when away from the light-polluted
city.
Day 4:
Couldn’t have
been much more than 50 degrees when I got up. The sleeping bag
was rated for 45 degrees and I think that they weren't kidding with the
rating. On the bright side, I did
figure out how to tie the sleeping bag to the air mattress which helped with
the falling of the log feeling.
Although chilly, walking down to
the lake with the sun coming up all pretty and calm I was tempted to take a
morning dip. (I resisted the
temptation.)
Career Opportunities
Had a nice chat
with my camp neighbors. They asked a lot of questions about the
bike. I may have sold them on the
pleasures of touring. Maybe I've a
future as a bike salesman. Or at least
maybe I can bike around and get folks to give me free wood and beer.
Walt's Diner.
I stopped for my morning meal at
Walt's Diner. Black
coffee and a slice of fresh apple pie (at the counter of course). The proper way to eat at a Diner is to eat at
the counter and if you should stop in for a real meal, you get something with
gravy. The only exception to the gravy
rule is if you get the special. Although if it's a real diner the special will involve gravy
anyway. Someday when I'm feeling
brave I'm going to ask where meatloaf gravy comes from.
Long Lumbering Lumber trucks
I think I bonded with a diesel
today. Starting out from a stop sign
there was a very steep hill. I beat the
truck off the line. I was pedaling at
maybe 5mph, the truck was doing maybe 6. Slowly, ever so slowly he worked his way past
me. It was a long truck and seemed to
take forever for him to completely pass.
Though he eventually won, it was sort of fun for the short time that I
was holding my own with a truck.
Toddler Zen
Towards the end of the day when
the chaffing and gumby legs remind me that I’ve been
sitting on a bike all darn day, I recall profound wisdom oft proffered by four
year old's who instinctively know that "Are we
there yet?" is a binary question.
Only one answer is right. All
other answers, no matter the attached caveats – do not matter. When you've ten more miles to pedal, your
butt doesn't care that you are “almost" there. Can I get off this bike yet or not?
A long hard day
of riding. Although the trend was down there were some
pretty intense climbs. It's the
“surprise” short steep climbs that get to more so than the long slow ones. The long ones simply mean you plug along in a
lower gear and go slow. The steep ones
are like rounding the corner in a building and being *surprised* by ten flights
of stairs.
I only encountered a couple of
really brutal hills. Most were of the
long-slow variety. I made it through
the entire trip without having to give up and walk. Pretty darn close and pretty darn slow a few
times, but the hills never won.
Pinky
Just call me claw. I'm used to it now. I get off the bike and can't straighten my
hands. The pinky on my
left had hangs sort of pitiful and limp.
I never really appreciated having all my fingers. I've been taking my pinky for granted all
these years. It's especially strange
trying to wash my face. I nearly poked
my eye out. It worked pretty good to use
one hand to hold the other sort of like a wash cloth.
Bears
I wonder if the bears are
wondering what a biker tastes like? There were tons of bear warnings around the
campgrounds. Along with the usual
"don't bring food into your tent" there were some other more extreme
suggestions such as do not wear the clothes that you cook in, into the
tent. I’m paraphrasing a bit, but I
swear one sign nearly said: “To be really safe, fast for three days, take a
naked mud bath and gargle with rocks to insure no bread on your breath prior to
retiring to your tent for the night.” I was
reminded by the old joke:
Ted: Yikes! Here comes a bear!
Ned: <reaches down and tightens
the laces on his sneakers>
Ted: What are you doing? You can't outrun a bear!
Ned: I don't have too. I just need to outrun you
I figured I was pretty safe. I'm
sure that there were tastier, nice smelling meals, sleeping in other tents.
Ranger Skippy
I checked into the campground and
lucked out with another prime site. Minor problem in that there was no picnic table on my site. I rode back to ranger-skippy
and he promised to send someone right over.
(No disrespect, but the “ranger” was probably no more than 17). I set up the tent, went for a shower, came
back and still no table. I rode back to
the ranger station (a mile away) and the new skippy
on duty sympathized but could not leave his post to help. I asked him to call the last guy and ask him
if he was eating dinner yet and if he was *sitting down*, because I was about
to go back to my table-less site and have dinner whilst standing.
I was actually in too good a mood
to make too much of a fuss. I went back
and ate dinner in the hammock. The only
real pain would be in the morning, since the table makes a good clean dry
staging area for packing up.
After last night's gourmet caveman
fare I was looking forward to another feast.
Unfortunately the last decent grocery store I passed was a little before
A.A. Alert
Just for the record, I did not
plan to have beer every night. It just
sort of happened.
Lounging Luxuriously near the Lapping
My hammock is literally ten feet
form shore. Gorgeous night, fire
remnants crackling to my left and water lapping on my right I decided to doze
for while right where I was.
Fire can fend for itself? Fact or
Fiction.
Watching the fire from a distance
it occurred to me that it seemed to be doing surprisingly well without being
poked -- go figure. When I checked on
it, I was pleased to see that although it had fended unattended, it was not as
tidy as it should have been. A few log
ends were left stranded on the edges that if I had been nearby I would have
flipped into the burning fray. Poking
stick in hand, I nudged the orphaned ends into the center and was rewarded with
crackling approval.
I woke up a bit chilly around
Day 5:
Last bit of
coffee and oatmeal for breakfast -- yet another reminder that this was the last
day.
The trip's not over yet. Funny how "only one day left" or
only 70 miles left sounds. At the end of
a day, it's only 15 miles left.
Everything is relative. I've been
burned more than once by underestimating what remains of the day. After 65 miles, only 5 miles does sound like
almost done except when 2 of the 5 happen to be uphill. Which reminds me… Look at yesterday’s elevation profile;
you’ll notice a couple of wicked-steep climbs right before the huge descent.
Pretty flat day. Grumbling clouds in
the distance hint that I might just get wet on this trip yet. The humidity was on the brutal side. Definitely the hottest day
so far.
Since it’s so flat and straight, I
took the opportunity to shift up into my highest gear. What with the slow-touring motif (and oh yeh, the hills) I’ve had little cause for the monster sprockets.
Right to the be there
Last few miles, now on familiar
turf, the roads felt different. After
five days, I think I felt like I’d earned my lane of the road. Comfortable and confident, I coasted home.
Epilogue
What a trip! I thoroughly (thoroughly!) enjoyed it. I can’t think of anything that could have
improved it. As adventures go, it was
darn near perfect.
The weather was as close to
perfect as it could have been. Yes, a
bit windy and cool to start, and nasty hot and humid at the end, but no soaking
rainstorms or other equally ugly natural phenomena. I’m sure that some bad weather would have
created a more exciting story to tell – Better a good trip than a good story.
The roads were generally very well
suited for biking with nice wide shoulders.
The distance per day felt about
right. I rode roughly from
Woo-Hoo! Not a single flat tire or mechanical mishap.
Except for an extra T-shirt or two
and the radio and palmtop, I pretty much packed correctly. I wanted for nothing and used most
everything. Since the weather was so
nice, I’ll probably give a bit more thought to packing efficiency and rain gear
next year (since that aspect of the trip was (thankfully) not put to the test).
The numb hands are the only real
issue I have to address for the next ride.
They plagued me for nearly a month after I was home.
I think a seven day; 500 mile
adventure is next on the list. Wanna come along ?
And finally…
The
answer to "Why?"
There are many many levels and facets to bike riding. This trip captured many of them, or at least
many of the ones that I enjoy.
Big Picture:
On a grand scale,
although not a mountain or a marathon, it was a goal planned for and
attained. The “I did
it" factor. Regardless of
the means, the end: The days, the
distance, the deed appealed to me.
Brush Strokes:
Then on a somewhat smaller
scale, the intermediate milestones equally pleasurable: each day, each mile, each hill -- all small victories worthy of celebration. Instant gratification.
The means:
The end being
good, I happened to like the means as well.
I think riding a bike represents a perfectly efficient and sufficient
melding of man and machine. Every turn
of the pedals is beautiful elegant simplicity.
It's a Zen thing.
Toys:
Gadgets, then
there's the gadgets. Current, maximum
and average speed, distance per day, the odometer, altitude... wow. Sprinkle in elapsed time and a track of exact
GPS coordinates and you have yourself a plethora of edible trivia.
Mom Nature:
Outside is
big. Big is cool. Outside is cool. Being in the big outside is way cool. Seeing the horizon and knowing you are going
to go beyond it is a way to experience, appreciate and be a part of the bigness
of it all.
Running away from home:
Self
sufficiency. Yeh, I stopped at
stores for food and water, but in a relative and real way, there was no one to
turn too. Depending on no one is a
rush.
The elements:
I was excited
about facing whatever weather came my way.
I happened to get lucky and have near perfect conditions, but I was
prepared for (and I think I would have actually liked) a little adversity.
A good solid workout:
It was physically
demanding. By the end of each day I was
sweaty, tired, and totally used up. It's
the best kind of tired.
Project management:
I liked the planning
and preparation. The attention to detail
to required to pack just the right things is a fun
puzzle to solve -- analyzing trade-offs between weight, size and function. Maps have always fascinated me -- working out
where I'd rather zig and where I'd like to zag to get from point A to point B.
Potential Unpleasantness
You have to deal
with (via planning, equipment, or attitude) some unpleasantness -- Everything from the literal pain in the butt
bike seat to scary fast cars, big barreling trucks, rotten rough roads, wicked
wind, raw rain, chafing in spots you'd
rather not chafe, sore muscles, flat tires, rude motorists and dogs that chase.
I like Being on a Bike.