Labor Day Sun!

After a week of some pretty stormy weather up here on Rainier the sun is back out and a fresh coat of snow can be seen covering the upper mountain. Today and tomorrow are shaping up to be a great couple of days. The Emmons route is still in great late season shape and the DC is undergoing some changes, making the route a bit more difficult but motivated climbers could still find some great adventures by climbing out of Muir. We even have a very motivated lady who is currently at Muir with skis and planning on having a nice (possibly bumpy) Labor Day ski down the snowfield.









Check in with rangers at the CIC or high camps for the latest conditions. Hope everyone is enjoying their weekend!

Cynthia Rowley Bike on Newbury Street

Including bicycles in shop window displays seems to be the new thing, and some fashion designers are even making their own. Cynthia Rowley beach cruisers are now available for sale in her shops, including the one on Newbury Street in Boston.

Cynthia Rowley clothing has a flirty, girly, 1950's-era feel to it, so the beach cruiser seems an appropriate complement. I wonder how many people out there are buying designer bicycles. The Rowley cruiser is certainly a more affordable alternative to the Fendi Abici!

Amazing Wadi Rum Desert Adventures: First things first—Lunch!

Before we start our amazing Wadi Rum Desert adventure, we told our Bedouin guide who happens to have the sexiest 4x4 jeep in Wadi Rum that we first have to feed our grumbling stomachs.

Our lunch in Wadi Rum village and lower foto taken on the road to Wadi Rum village. The rock cliffs and rock formation become finer and stunning as we approach Wadi Rum.

Meet our cool Bedouin guide: Tyseer! I will tell more about him later =)

Tyseer, our Bedouin guide was very straightforward, he asked, ‘Do you want expensive where everyone goes to eat or cheaper but local-Bedouin food?’

Obviously, we chose the latter.

In hindsight the restaurant was a much better option. There were no hordes of noisy tourists, we have lovely views to ourselves and the food was quite local-style and not overpriced yet it was good. In fact it was too much food for lunch haha. We did not realize that it was a whole menu set (2 menu sets!) that Tyseer ordered for us. If we knew, we would have only ordered 1 menu set for the 2 of us.

Food rating: 4 stars out of 5!

We had hot chicken soup for starters.

Grilled chicken flavoured with Arabic spices and herbs, and Makluba (or spelled as: Magluba, Maglouba), a typical Bedouin rice dish with meat and vegetables.

Salad (lettuce, tomatoes and cucumber) and Arabic flat bread.

Our restaurant in Wadi Rum village and the breath taking views... and this is just a teaser.

The one running the restaurant sleeps in a tent inside the restaurant! LOL, funny I thought. Up on the wall (picture frame) is King Abdullah II, King of Jordan.

Next, the start of our Wadi Rum 4x4 desert adventure.

Snow Bike SOS!

This morning I received an email from a reader - Elise - who left her bike locked up outside a restaurant overnight, to find it covered in snow the next morning. Upon trying to retrieve the bicycle, she discovered that "allthe parts were snow-encrusted" and wasn't sure it was safe to ride,so sheleft it where it was and took the bus to work. Of course it then snowed again, and the bike's condition only got worse. Elise is wondering how to retrieve her bike after it's been in the snow in freezing temperatures for what has now been 2 days.






While I don't know what condition Elise's bike is in, I can share what has happened to me in the past as a result of leaving a bike out in the snow for too long, and hope that something here might be applicable:




"frozen" wheels: Once I found that my bike did not want to roll after being left locked up outside in the snow. The front wheel would not budge, and at first I thought something was seriously wrong. On closer inspection, it turned out there was some frozen snow stuck between the fender and the tire. I cleared it out and "unfroze" the wheel.




clogged brake calipers:Riding a bike with caliper brakes in winter, I quickly learned that getting clogged up with snow eliminates their stoping power. And since snow does seem to love settling down on brake calipers and then solidifying, it is essential to clear it out of there. Wheel rims can also get iced over and may need to be wiped down.




icy pedals: A few times my pedals have gotten icy, to the point of making it difficult to ride the bike without my feet slipping off. When this happens I scrape them with the textured sole of my boot to break up the sleek surface, or try to rub some dirt on them.




"sluggish" drivetrain: Infreezing temperatures, it can sometimes feel that my drivetrain is slower, or not as smooth as usual. My understanding is that this is due to whatever lubricants are used on the drivetrain getting gooey from the prolonged cold. It is still okay to ride your bike like that as far as I know, but it might feel a little weird.




Each of these things has at some point made me panic and feel that a bike was "unridable" after being left out in the snow, but they all proved to be resolvable.





Granted, other issues may not be as easy to deal with.I've heard stories of frozen U-locks being impossible to open, and of leather saddles snapping in half if ridden when frozen. And perhaps the most common problem of all isfrozen derailleurs, which I have no experience withsinceI do not ride derailleur-geared bikes in the winter.





Whether it's about components on the bike getting iced over, or the owner feeling that conditions are not safe enough to ride home, bikes get left in the snow - which all too often turns into full on abandonment. Any tips for avoiding thiswould be much-appreciated. How do you deal with a snow-encrusted bike?

Wolf Pups

Shoe Lake Road - Cook County, MN. I saw these cute little fellows while driving home from the Gunflint Trail yesterday. Came around a corner on Shoe Lake Road and there they were, sitting just a few feet off the road. I watched them for a couple of minutes before they wandered back off into the woods.

Dream Wool Cycling Jersey Concept

A number of manufacturers have come out with updated versions of the classic wool roadcycling jersey over the past few years, and I've accumulated a few. All have some nice features, but none are perfect. Yesterday I noticed one that I think might come close, and exchanged some emails with my Ibex contact Julie lamenting that there is no women's version. This ended with the people at Ibex saying they will consider it for Fall , which, in turn, inspired me to be more specific about what I envisioned. This is not directed at Ibex necessarily, but at wool manufacturers in general. It is a simple concept, and shouldn't be difficult to execute - yet no jersey quite like this exists at the moment as far as I know.





The key to my dream wool cycling jersey is a very lightweight merino fabric. And by lightweight I mean summer weight, t-shirt weight. The wool Swobo and Woolistic use for their jerseys is too heavy. Rapha, Road Holland and Shutt Velo Rapide use "sport wool," which is a wool/polyester blend that, for me at least, works nicely over a base layer in cold temps, but not against bare skin. Icebreaker adds a touch of lycra to their paper-thin wool jerseys for stretch, and I like their fabric as a possibility. But the nicest I've worn so far has been the 18.5 micron, 195g/m2 merino used by Ibex for their Indie line of jerseys. That fabric feels pretty much spot on.




I prefer cycling jerseys with long sleeves, even in summer, because this way my arms don't get burned. Also, if the fabric is lightweight enough, I actually find it more comfortable to have my skin covered in the heat than not. The combination of the t-shirt weight wool and the long sleeve length is perfect for temperature regulation on both hot and cool days.One thing to add here, is that I beg whoever makes this jersey to not do anything crazy to the sleeves - like what Swobo did here by adding seams. I have both the older (no seams) and the newer (seams! why?) versions of their long sleeve jersey, and the seams on the newer one make the sleeves constricting. Please just leave the sleeves be; they don't need reinventing.






One feature I would absolutely love to see in a cycling jersey is a 2-way zipper. I think this would be an especially useful feature for women, as it would enable us to unzip the jersey for extra ventilation just like men do, but without exposing the bosom. With a 2-way zipper we can unzip along the tummy and leave the chest covered up. I am surprised no one has tried this yet actually. The zipper should be covered on the inside of the jersey, so that it doesn't come into contact with the skin.






Women sometimes complain that cycling jerseys are unflattering, and one way to remedy this would be to tailor the jersey via shaping darts - which Ibex already does in some of their athletic tops. However, I am reluctant to suggest this, because it does introduce additional seams which for some may cause chafing. Personally I am okay with or without darted tailoring, though a women-specific fit would be nice.






In the back, all I want is the classic 3 jersey pockets, elasticized at the top. No more or no less; no bells and whistles; nothing weird. Some manufacturers have been getting clever with the pockets - adding all sorts of secret zip-up compartments for pumps and wallets, which I really feel is unnecessary, and if anything, limits the use of that potentially vast pocket space. Just the standard 3 pockets please!






As far as looks, I am open - just please keep it simple. No flowers, no swirly shapes, no faux-oriental designs, and no clever slogans. Classic colours. Maybe a stipe or two somewhere, with room for embroidering a club name across the chest and back. I love this colourscheme from Ibex, and these from Rapha (sans prominent logo), and this one from Shutt Velo Rapide - and of course these vintage beauties from Bridgestone. Less is more, and a couple of contrasting stripes go a long way.






I have not described anything complicated here, and I hope manufacturers reading this will consider producing something like it. Ibex is probably in the best position to do it, because they already have the perfect fabric and a design that comes very close. But I'd love to see more options for lightweight, women-specific wool cycling jerseys across the board. Your thoughts and input are, of course, welcome. Who knows, maybe we can make something happen.

Gunks Routes: Unnamed (Pitch 1 5.0), Dis-Mantel (5.10b) & Dat-Mantel (5.10b)

(Photo: Gail giving Dis-Mantel (5.10b)a try.)



Did I mention that I am on vacation?



I am at the beach. I cannot go rock climbing.



But I am going to try to catch up on my posting.



I have been on the hunt for the easy 5.10 climbs at the Gunks. The climbs on the Mantel block seemed like maybe they would be good candidates. They are short climbs up the sixty-foot block, with roof cruxes.



But those one-move cruxes can be stiff for the grade. I was also worried that these climbs might not be very good, a waste of time.



I had bugged Gail to do these climbs with me for the last few months. We finally got around to them on Friday.



I decided to start with Dis-Mantel, the climb on the right. From the ground it seemed to me that I could get pro in the flake at the first, 5.10b roof. And I thought I might have better luck on Dis-Mantel than on the climb to the left; the roof on Dat-Mantel looked incredibly large.



the early moves up to the first roof on Dis-Mantel were simple enough. But the pro in the flake at the lip was kind of iffy. I got a green Camalot to sit in there but I wasn't absolutely sure about it. I had a rock solid piece back where the roof met the wall but I wanted something higher. There was absolutely no pro up over the roof.



I can't remember if I ever really tested that green Camalot. What I do remember is that I couldn't figure out the move at all. I kept going up and climbing down, trying this and trying that. There was a good hold that was very very far away. I'd read that the climb was height-dependent but this was ridiculous. I couldn't figure out how anyone could reach it. I tried under-clinging the roof, I tried using the flake as a side pull. I tried holding on to various parts of the shallow left-facing corner above the roof. I tried using a little fingerlock seam below the jug. Eventually I decided to give up, climb down a few moves and try Dat-Mantel to the left.






(Photo: Getting the holds above the lip of the roof on Dat-Mantel (5.10b).)



I found a few interesting moves on my way over to the Dat-Mantel roof. I was still below the roof, confronting a thin move up an orange face, when I realized that I didn't have any of my big cams. I'd left my blue # 3 in my bag and I'd somehow used both my red # 1 and my yellow # 2 below. I could see that I needed at least one bigger cam for the horizontal beneath the roof. And who knew what I might need above?



I was trying to decide what to do about this problem when it started raining.



This was the excuse I needed. Things weren't exactly going in my direction anyway. I decided to bail. I backed up my top piece and had Gail lower me, thinking when the rain stopped one of us could go up Unnamed, the climb that ascends the left side of the Mantel block at 5.0, to set up a top rope and retrieve the gear.



When I got to the ground the rain stopped before it even really began. So I led up Unnamed, a climb that has a 5.3 second pitch above the Mantel block. The first pitch, which goes up the left side of the block, is just 5.0. It isn't bad climbing for 5.0. It's better than Dirty Chimney, for sure. The pro is a little funky. There are big vertical cracks but they are flaring. At one point there are three old pitons hammered into one crack, right on top of one another. Maybe they were put in as practice placements, forty or fifty years ago?



Up atop the block is a stone with several ratty old slings and a couple of newish ones threaded. This anchor is well placed for Dat-Mantel. You don't even need a directional.



Gail took the first stab at Dat-Mantel on toprope. She looked a little shaky at the thin move up the orange face below the roof, where I had given up the lead. Then I got the benefit of watching her figure out the huge overhang, which surely helped me when it was my turn. Still, I was happy with how it went when it was my turn. I figured out an easier way to get through the orange face. And I went at the roof a little differently than she did. She crimped up to the horizontal above the roof using some holds that looked truly awful. I had a notion that it would be easier to get up there if I moved a little to the right and this turned out to be a good call. Then I threw a heel, pivoted up, and presto-- I had done it on the first try.



Dat-Mantel is a nice little climb. There are a few nice moves below the roof, and then the roof itself is a good challenge. It is well-protected, too. There is a good slot right where the underside of the roof meets the wall, and then once you get the horizontal above the roof, but before you attempt pulling over, you can get another solid placement. I wish I had been more insistent on going ahead with the lead of this climb. If I'd tried it first instead of Dis-Mantel maybe I would have done it.



I hope to go back this year and send Dat-Mantel on lead.



Dis-Mantel, on the other hand, remains a mystery, and I don't think I will be heading back to lead it. Neither Gail nor I could figure it out, even on top rope. (We set it up from the same threaded station, using a directional placement.) And I'm still not sure how I feel about that cam in the flake at the crux roof. There aren't any cracks for pro above the roof, so even if the cam in the flake holds I don't really like the thought of the fall at that roof if you blow it on lead. The second (5.8) roof also looks to have funky pro. Each of us tried it on top rope by cheating around the first roof to the right, doing the Kernmantle crux before heading left to the second Dis-Mantel roof. Gail had no problem with the second roof but I was so hot and tired by the time I got up there that I blew it once before pulling through it on the second try.



If someone would take me up Dis-Mantel and show me what I'm doing wrong, I'd appreciate it! I still feel reasonably good about the effort. I was safe about it, explored around the roof without losing control, and climbed down when I correctly decided I was out of my depth.

She had a tight grip...

According to the caption written by my grandmother, this photo of my grandfather and his first born child was taken in August 1923. That would make the little girl, my Aunt Phyllis, about 10 months old. She sure had a tight grip! I doubt that the bucket had any water in it, but still, I'm impressed.

Even though you can't see their faces, they are recognizable to me. This being Father's Day, I thought it was an appropriate picture. Grandpa's birthday was always celebrated on Father's Day, he was born on June 19th a hundred and sixteen years ago.

Study in Lights and Darks: My 300K DNF

I know, the title rather takes the suspense out of it. Last Saturday I attempted the New England Randonneurs 300K brevet. Having done all the major climbs and passed all the controls, I abandoned the ride on the last leg - with 45 miles to go. A week later, I am still not sure how I feel about what happened. It is as if I remember two entirely different rides - one wonderful beyond words and the other to an equal degree awful. The contrast is so great, that my mind cannot process it into a unified experience. So this will be my attempt to.



Earlier this Spring, I completed four RUSA-sanctioned events with the New England Randonneurs: two 100K Permanents, the official 100K Populaire, and the 200K brevet. Initially I had no plans to attempt the 300K. But in the weeks that followed a gradual change of heart began to take place. Largely this was because I found the route so attractive. It was a new route this year - a tour of Massachusetts via rural back roads, and it looked simply too good to miss. As time passed, something also changed in me physically and I began to feel - in a very literal sense - that I had it in me to do the distance. That I had the strength, the willingness, the potential at least. As the date of the 300K approached, this feeling solidified. It was in the car heading home from DROVES(a weekend retreat in Vermont that focused on dirt roads and climbing) that I made the firm decision.



After DROVES I felt well rested, and as well-trained as I was going to get. I did not ride much in the following days, saving my strength for the 300K. I also gave a lot of thought to the logistics of the event. Aside from the added milage, there were several new challenges to consider. One was the elevation gain. Everyone who knew the route warned me about the huge amount of climbing, describing it as even more difficult than the climbs on the 200K. With this in mind, I decided to take my Rawland instead of my lighter and racier Seven, because the former has considerably lower gears. In preparation, I did a couple of paved 100K+ rides on the Rawland and timed myself. Though a bit slower, I was still fast enough to get through a brevet on time. Conveniently, this bike was also equipped with dynamo lights.



But what had even experienced randonneurs concerned about the 300K this year, was the weather. We've had a cold spring, and the previous weekend in particular was downright wintry. On the day of the brevet, the forecast promised temperatures in the mid-90s. To ride all day in such heat is difficult enough, but to do so without having a chance to acclimatise is even more so. I do not do well in hot weather, so I tried to prepare. I stayed off alcohol and started drinking loads of water days before the ride. I procured an ultra-lightweight white mesh jersey with SPF protection and "sun sleeves." I stocked up on electrolyte mix to last the entire ride. And in the hot days before the 300K I went out for brief rides in the sun at high noon, so that the weather would not be a complete shock the day of.





Packing my bike the evening before, I felt calm and looked forward to the ride. Taking advantage of the handlebar bag on my Rawland, I packed: an extra water bottle, snack foods, a spare jersey (wool, in case the high-tech SPF mesh didn't agree with me), extra lights, sunscreen, chamois cream, pain medication, bandaids, and an external battery for topping up my GPS and phone charge. In my saddle wedge I packed tools and 2 spare tubes.



The actual distance of the event would be 193.4 miles. I was able to get a ride to the start from another rider, which meant I would not need to add any extra miles riding to and from home. Barring unforeseen circumstances, it all seemed manageable.



Even at 5:30 in the morning, filling out forms in the concrete parking lot of the Hanscom Airbase, it was obvious that the day would be scorchingly hot. The sun was out already, casting dramatic shadows. I applied sunscreen and wandered around. It looked like 35 or so riders with the usual variety of bicycles - from modern road race to traditional rando, to everything in between. Unlike on previous rides, everyone had a good sized handlebar or saddle bag, or both, attached to their bike this time. I was teased a little for showing up at the 300K after having said "no more" last time. Yeah yeah yeah, I grumbled.



Setting off just after 6am, there was some shuffling around for the first mile, but soon we were all strung out a comfortable distance from one another, with me somewhere in the middle.





On the cue sheet and GPS files, the ride was separated into 6 Legs, with a control at the end of each. The first three would take us west, across northern Massachusetts. The third would bring us down south a bit. And the final two would return us home. Thinking of the ride in terms of these distinct, self-contained segments made it feel very manageable. First we ride 20 miles. Now we ride 35. Now another 30 miles. And so on.





The first leg was easy, pleasant, and immediately scenic. It made for an excellent warm-up: starting out flat and rolling, building up to a 2-mile climb at the end. Briefly I rode with another Ride Studio Cafe cyclist, Henry. He is Dutch, very strong, with beautiful pedal strokes. We wished each other good luck, and soon he was off like a slingshot. Later I was caught by some other riders I knew from previous brevets. They passed me uphill, I passed them downhill, they passed me uphill again. After that I passed two riders on the side of the road, one of whom was having a mechanical issue. At the first control, I ate a hot breakfast quickly and moved on right away.




On paper,the second legwas all climbing. But in practice I did not experience it that way. Except for a short very steep stretch toward the end where I had to walk briefly, it all felt fine. I was making good time, with plenty of cushion room. The scenery was beautiful, with lots of shade to shield riders from the intensifying sun. I was going through my water at a rate of one bottle per 10-15 miles and feeling good. Part of the way, I rode with another rider and we arrived at the second control together: a country store at mile 52. Here I refilled my 3 bottles (two in the cages, one in the handlebar bag) and tried to force myself to eat. It was getting very hot now and I had no appetite. Others at the control seemed to feel the same, hanging out in the shade until they felt cooled down enough to eat. It was very comfortable at the little country store, with its picnic benches surrounded by pine trees. I tried not to stay too long and was soon on my way again.





Leg 3 took us to the westernmost point of the route and over beautiful stretches such as Tully Lake and Mt. Grace. I was feeling so good and elated at this point, that I did not realise I was climbing over an actual mountain until I saw it on the map later. At the 65 mile point I checked my time and saw I was just over 6 hours into the ride.I passed a few riders somewhere along the way, which I took as a sign I was doing okay.If I kept going at this rate, I would finish in 18 hours - with 2 hours to spare before the 20 hour cutoff. By the time I arrived at the next control at mile 85 I lost some of that cushion on the final climb, but was still doing well. I was also feeling hungry now, which was timely as this was the food stop: a BBQ place with outdoor seating.


At the food stop, there were many other riders, and some of them did not look good - suffering from the heat. Some sat in front of their food staring at it absently. Others were lying down on the grass with their eyes closed. I heard one rider making a phone call to announce he was abandoning. And I learned that at least two others had abandoned already as well.



But the biggest surprise was seeing Emily at this control. Emily is a much, much stronger rider than me, and at timed events I would not normally see her for the entire ride. To catch up to her on a control meant something was wrong. And it was: She couldn't eat; she didn't feel well in the heat. Leaving most of her food behind, she finally left shortly before I did. Even her dill pickle remained half-eaten.



As I set off to leave, I asked where the bathroom was and learned it was out of order. The owner tried to give me directions to the bathrooms in the town center, but I did not want to waste time on a detour and continued without a pee break.





The 4th Leg should have been comparatively easy, without much climbing. But it was made difficult by the almost complete lack of shade. For a stretch we cycled along an open country highway, with nowhere to hide from the 95F heat and the blazing sun. Later it was farmlands, with an equal lack of tree shade. It was mid-afternoon by now, but the sun and temperature were not waning. Wearing all-white and guzzling water, I did not get sick from the heat as some of the others did. But I could feel it slowing me down, sapping my energy as I neared mile 100.



Shortly after we passed Deerfield - the home of the famous D2R2 event - something uncanny happened. I remembered that Richard Sachs lived somewhere in the area. And no sooner did this thought cross my mind, that I saw a lone dark figure on a bicycle on the opposite side of the country highway. "No way," I thought. "No way." But as we neared each other, I could clearly make out the red bike and the all-black kit, and finally the face - across which a look of what seemed like surprised recognition flashed just as we crossed paths for that split second. The "was it or wasn't it?!" question plagued me for the rest of the ride. WhenMr. Sachs himselfconfirmed it later that weekend,I was immensely relieved it was not a heatstroke-induced hallucination.





All throughout this leg I tried to ride faster, but the sun and heat felt like a harness holding me back. By the time I reached the next control, my cushion time had dwindled to 45 minutes. I ran to use the bathroom, then went to fill my water bottles at the rest stop. To my surprise some riders were hanging out here - in a seemingly leisurely fashion, some with their shoes off.Maybe I was needlessly worried about the time?I had some watermelon and stretched my upper body as we chatted briefly. One of the riders - an NEBC racer - had just passed me an hour earlier. She had started late, having cracked a chainstay on her main bike and switching to another at the last moment. Emily was also there, still not feeling great. When I set off she stayed behind, telling me she'd catch up and we could ride together the rest of the way.



The rest of the way was "only" 80 miles at this point. I felt in my legs and in my gut that I could do it. I just needed to be mindful of the time and make it to the next control with some cushion. After that, it would be just the final leg home.



Leg 5 was the last one with any major climbing. To be precise: an 11-mile climb, followed by a descent and a flat stretch, followed by a 5-mile climb. I knew it would be difficult, but on paper it did not look any worse than the stretches we'd done earlier. In practice, it felt much worse. The sun was waning already, but the heat of the day had done its work and I felt "cooked." With over 100 miles in my legs, I was slow climbing. I spun and ground and pushed myself and played songs in my head with a fast rhythm, and even tried to stand (successfully), but nothing helped. No matter how I tackled the 11-mile climb, I was slow. Slow-slow-slow. Some miles in, Emily caught up. She attempted to ride with me, but I was sincerely worried about my speed and did not want to drag her down with me - so I told her to go on without. Reluctantly she agreed and disappeared around the next bend. I tried standing and pedaling in a higher gear again. The fact that I could do it was not bringing me any joy now. It didn't seem to help. I sat back down and spun/ground as fast as I could. It was endless.I could feel the time slipping away.





When the descent came,I switched into the big ring and did not touch the brakes. Any cornering problems I had in the past did not even enter my mind; I just needed to make up all the time I'd lost. It worked, and on the flat I could finally take a breath of relief.



Until the dirt road. When I first saw what awaited me, I could not believe it. First came a section where the road wasunder construction, "Caution, turn back" signs, completely dug up and unridable, and finallyblocked from traffic with tall piles of sand and debris. I had to carry my bike across this for what must have been just a short time but seemed eternal at this stage in the game. Then came the 2-mile stretch of "dirt," which was, frankly, loose sand all the way, strewn with alarmingly sharp rocks. Fishtailing slightly even with my 42mm tires, I could only imagine what this felt like on skinny road tires. It did not seem right to be on this godforsaken road, but both my GPS and cue sheet directions indicated I was riding where I was supposed to be. This was confirmed when a car passed me... a car belonging to one of the ride volunteers, with a bike hoisted upon the roof-rack and a dispirited-looking rider in the passenger's seat. Another abandon.





With the dirt finally over, I picked up the pace as much as I could, but soon came the final 5 mile climb. I gritted my teeth and pedaled with all my might, feeling no sensation what so ever. The sun was setting. The sky glowed gold, then pink over an endless stretch of creepy bog. The final control cutoff was fast approaching and my entire being filled with intense disbelief and feel of impeding tragedy. No-no-no-no-no. This can't be happening. No. Please no. I stopped checking the time and just pedaled, focusing on nothing but making the final control until the road dumped me at the grassy knoll.



Volunteer staff were waiting in a wooden pavilion.When I got off the bike, I was so out of breath that I could not speak. I attempted to ask whether I made it on time, but instead started hyperventilating and making wailing sounds. People stared with undisguised concern. I tried to shut my mouth and sit down, but it only got worse, until I finally let out all the wailing that was pent up inside. What that was, I still have no idea.



And then, just like that, I was fine. I checked the time and learned I'd arrived 10 minutes before the cutoff. I drank a cup of chocolate milk and ate a hard boiled egg. I put on a reflective vest, spare lights, and helmet light, preparing to set off again.





I should mention that the final control was a sight of a mass unraveling. Quite a few riders were there, in various states of not feeling well. A handful had abandoned and were waiting for rescue rides. One man was lying down, trying to recover sufficiently to continue. The racer who had passed me earlier was resting in a recliner: done. Emily was there, telling me she would catch up again if I set off before her. I hoped so, as this way we could ride together in the dark. But I could not risk waiting any longer, in case she decided not to continue. I had calculated there were maybe 5 riders still behind me. None of them would finish atthis point.



I set off on thelast legat 8:45pm. This was a long one - 55 miles, but it would soon have us on familiar territory. I had over 5 hours to cover the remaining distance, with not much climbing to speak of except in the very beginning. It was growing cool. I was not in any pain. I was tired, but not so tired I could not crank out the miles without stopping.This was doable, very doable.I just had to keep going.




It was dark, but not pitch black yet when I set off. I started at a good pace and was looking forward to Emily catching up, then us finishing together. I would be sure to hang on to her for dear life this time. I imagined us arriving at the finish dramatically, 5 - or maybe 3 - minutes before the cutoff, collapsing from exhaustion, but making it. This image kept me going as the sky turned from gray to navy to black.



And then, I began to notice with growing alarm, that I could not see where I was going. This was so unexpected that it took some time to even sink in. I consider(ed) myself to be an experienced night rider, and, based on previous experiences, genuinely thought that I was prepared for the night stretch of the route. I had a powerful dynamo headlight on my front rack,anda battery powered headlight on my handlebars,anda helmet mounted headlight. But even all this was not sufficient for the area I found myself in, especially riding alone. The sky was black - moonless and starless; there was no illumination of any kind. There was not even a yellow lane divider or a white fog line to focus on. With my 3 headlights I could see the potholes at various distances in front of me illuminated brilliantly, but I could not see the curvature of the road further ahead. And this meant I could not safely pick up speed, especially on descents, without the risk of going off the side of the road. Several times I stopped and tried to adjust my lights to point further out. This did not help much - they were not diffuse enough to do what I wanted them to do. I kept riding at the maximum speed I felt was safe, which was pitiful considering the twists and turns of the back road. My last hope was Emily catching up with me, and us combining our light power.





The road seemed to only grow darker and more twisty. This was truly in the middle of nowhere. I could barely make out the shapes of trees, and I seemed to be riding through some dense forested area. I heard disconcerting sounds all around me - howling, rustling in the woods, and at some point what sounded like a chainsaw. I am not generally scared of the dark, but I was by now so exhausted and frustrated that my mind must have started to mess with me. Around this time, I really began to worry where Emily was, and at length became convinced that she must have been murdered - what other explanation was there for her still not catching up to me? Surely that was related to the sound of the chainsaw I'd heard. After 15 hours on the bike, this made a great deal of sense, and I started to sob. I should have waited for her. I should have waited! Shaking, I had to stop to regain my composure.Eventually I snapped out of it, ate some food and kept going.



But increasingly, I was losing time on the climbs and unable to make it up on the descents, since I could not see where I was going.With a sense of dread I checked the time: It was approaching 10pm and I had barely advanced 10 miles. With 45 miles left to go and 4 hours to do it in, I was not going to finish if I kept riding at this pace. My mind went into emergency-analytical mode, putting aside all emotion to determine the logical course of action.



Fact:I would not make the cutoff, unless I started to ride drastically faster. Fact: The pitch black road conditions were unlikely to change, which meant I was unlikely to ride faster. Fact: Since Emily has not caught up to me by now, she had most likely abandoned herself, which meant I was the last rider remaining on the course. Fact: If I continued riding anyway, I would not only be putting myself at risk in the dark for nothing, but inconveniencing the organisers - who would wait for me as long as I was still out there. The logical course of action was to abandon.





According to the map, I would soon pass a gas station. I could end my ride there and arrange for a pick-up. After weighing my options, I made the decision. Makingthe call felt like tearing off a bandaid - if I was going to do it, I needed to do it quickly.



At the gas station parking lot ten minutes later, I saw two sets of headlights. It was Emily, along with another rider - the one who'd been lying down at the last control. I expected them to keep going, but they pulled in to the gas station. Emily wanted to buy a coke, and there was something off, I thought, about how important this seemed to her, with so little time left. The clerk who was closing up got her one and she sat down with it on the pavement. The other rider lied down on the porch. They seemed quite settled in. I tell them they need to keep going immediately, if they want to make the cutoff. I am not sure they understand or even hear me. I offer my bananas, water, Shot Blocks. "Look, you shouldn't sit here, you need to get going. I am only here because I'm done." Emily looks at her coke long and hard. "Well... maybe I'm done too." She looks at her watch. "Yeah..."



I know that Emily has been randonneuring for over 10 years and she has never DNFed an event.Damn it, I think. She was not planning to quit until she saw me sitting here. I contemplate continuing with them, but it makes no sense. I try to encourage them, waving my banana and extra water fetchingly. But they really are done now, sprawled on the porch, talking politics and sci-fi books. Now that more time has passed and the decision is irreversible, they relax and become more animated. Each has made the call and they are waiting for a ride.



I feel too numb to joint the conversation. I put myself on autopilot and start disassembling my bike. My husband arrives in a tiny ZipCar and we wrangle the pieces inside. He will never trust me to be "okay on my own" again, is all I can think of as wedrive home. Well, maybe he never did.



At home, I went straight to sleep and didn't dream about anything. The next day I felt strange, weepy. After that I thought I was fine, but I ran into Emily in town two days later and had an almost PTSD-type experience when we started talking about the ride. She did not seem too happy either.





Many riders abandoned this particular brevet. It was a tough one. But somehow that fails to console me. It wasn't the miles or the climbing or the heat that broke me in the end, but inadequate preparation for the dark. An overconfidence in myself over a factor that turned out to be critical. A mistake.



All through the following week I would recall fragments of the brevet, sending my emotions into wild extremes of highs and lows. I would remember pedaling over Mt. Grace, elated, hot breeze in my face, smelling pine trees in the sun and looking down at miles of farmlands. What ecstasy, to have made it out this far on my own, and to feel as if I could keep on going forever.



Then later I would recall riding through that damned forest in the dark, alone, nearly going off the side of the road, ominous rustlings behind the trees. That feeling of doom seeping in, like a cold thick liquid against my skin. The decision to abandon after nearly 150 miles, after all that climbing, after having ridden clear across the state and back...



Well, what else is there to say. So much drama about a little brevet. Better luck next time and all that. It is good for the character to fail on occasion. I will try to learn what I can from it. And I will always remember the many beautiful moments of this ride, the kindness of the volunteers, the support of the other riders. Thank you to all who were there, and congratulations to the finishers. Happy trails to all for future brevets and other adventures.

Gunclub day II

We awoke to more snow and terrible roads, so we opted to head to the Gunclub again to do some different lines, since we got so drenched on NRA yesterday. We decided to start on Caveshot WI 4+. It was running just like NRA. We climbed it and got soaked just like NRA. The ice was a little more consolidated and the line climbed much better than NRA. After bringing Laura up to me on the belay ledge, everything was frozen solid and we opted to rap down and head out. On the way down I shot some cool shots of a near iceless Internet Connection WI5+ M6/7. (It climbs the overhanging wall with the blobs on it to the right of the rope). We had a blast even though it was 15° and running like crazy. Can't wait to get out on Sun day.

Presidents Wax Museum in Clermont, FL

I've already visited the President's Hall of Fame, but Aric had not been here yet, so we went to visit today. Since I already shared pictures of the wax figures last time, I thought I'd share some new things this time.



A model of the White House being built:

A ballot box from the famous "hanging chad" election. Nathan voted using one of these machines when all of that happened so he is particularly sentimental over it all.

This was new. Or at least the one wax figure was new since our last visit here.

Something funny happened while we stopped here. Last year, Auburn and Austin were not huge fans of this place because of the wax figures. Something about a horror movie they saw. I don't know because I'm a big scaredy cat and never watch horror movies. They laugh at me all the time about it. Which means I get to laugh at them when they can't go through a wax museum due to them.



So I'm telling Aric how wimpy they were, and how I teased them about the wax figures coming to life. And I snap Obama's picture.

Then I pull the camera away from my face, and go to walk away. I think to myself, that's odd...I swear his head was facing the other way a second ago.

I stand there and watch and....nothing. So I shrug my shoulders and chalk it up to me getting old and go to walk away again. And out of the corner of my eye, I see him move. AHA! I turn and see that yes, he is moving. I'd have given anything in that moment to see Austin and Auburn jump twenty feet into the air when he did that. I know, that's not very motherly of me...but they started it. Aric is brave, he just walked up even closer to Obama to watch him move. Then he said, it is kind of creepy. Well, it was...but don't tell the other two that we said that or we'll never be able to laugh at them.



On to the next new exciting thing. Bush, with fortune telling capabilities. I had no idea this was a career possibility for one of our former Presidents! Looks like tons of fun to me. I might have to become a President, just so I can do this afterward!



He was really good at it too. Completely believable! He even gave Aric and I our own unique predictions. Just so you know, I'm waiting on a letter that could very easily change my life! Aric needs to give Bush money so he can further our country's educational platform for the betterment of his future. (Not sure it the betterment of his future part was for Aric or Bush. He wasn't real clear on that part.)

And this is not new, but this is my favorite thing in the whole museum. I get teary eyed just looking at the picture of it:

Love this unique place and I really enjoyed our time chatting with the owner, and creator of the figures and wood carved items inside.



Living the life in creepyville, Florida!