Keep on moving - SCR Greenfield 300k Brevet: 3/21/2009

With spring just about officially here, the days were getting longer, but not yet long enough for me to have any chance of finishing a 300k ride in daylight. At least we didn't have to start in the dark.
Although there was a chance of showers later, the day started off fairly bright and clear. As the randonneurs gathered around, SCR's Bill Bryant gave us the last minute updates on the course and weather.
Whereas the 200k route had headed north of Santa Cruz, the 300k headed south into the Salinas Valley. I had ridden part of the route before, on the Chualar Ramble permanent, but had not gone south of Chualar before. The turnaround for this route was Greenfield, three towns south of Chualar.
One disadvantage of riding south from Santa Cruz was having to get through all the traffic lights in the Santa Cruz/Aptos/Soquel area. Eventually we emerged into farm country, then headed down on Highway 1 through Moss Landing. I saw a huge mass of sea lions hanging out in the harbor
along with a sea otter showing off its favorite pose.
A few miles later we entered Marina, our first control for the day. At the 7-11 I once again came across Brian Schaeffer, who had helped me in the finish of the SCR 200k.
We headed out into the Salinas Valley together, but my pace was still slower than his so after a while I drifted back, trying to make sure I didn't push too hard. I didn't know most of the roads ahead, so I had no idea where the hills were. As it turned out the roads heading towards Greenfield seemed to be filled with rolling hills. Although the valley itself is very flat, River Road and it's brethren were bouncing around the foothills west of the Salinas River; an area apparently much favored by wineries. I was not happy about this, however; although I had done several significant rides since the beginning of the year I still didn't really have my climbing legs, and it seemed like a lot more up & down than there actually was.
Finally I reached Arroyo Seco Road north of Greenfield. Arroyo Seco Road headed up the (what else) Arroyo Seco and climbed over the 2000 foot elevation level before dropping into the Carmel Valley. Luckily we were only going a few miles up before turning around and heading into Greenfield ; my legs were protesting loudly at the little climbing they had to do. I did start to see some of the faster folk on their way back from Greenfield
or coming down from the Arroyo Seco turnaround point.

After a bit more very slow climbing I also reached Scott Brittle manning the control on Arroyo Seco.

This was a very welcome sight; it meant I could now do two much anticipated things: 1) coast downhill, and 2) head for lunch in Greenfield.
Since I was now going downhill it was much easier to take pictures of stuff I had seen on my way up. First was a vineyard with what appeared to be a guard tower - guess they're worried about the grapevines escaping.
Then there was someone's blatantly self-promotional sign.
Halfway back down the view of the Arroyo Seco opened up nicely.
Finally I got to the junction of Elm Avenue and headed over the green bridge towards Greenfield.
Once I got into town, I turned left onto El Camino Real, as it looked like that was the direction of all the businesses. I cruised along looking for the Subway and almost stopped at a little Mexican restaurant but decided to stick with my first plan and kept going. Eventually I realized I was running out of town; where was the Subway. With the help of Google Maps on my cell phone I realized I should have turned right onto El Camino Real instead of left and saved myself 10 minutes.
A quick U-turn put me back on the right track and I pulled into the Subway where Brian was just finishing up his lunch. I grabbed a sandwich/chips/drink and bought some more stuff to restock a bit for the trip back. I was a little worried about having to fight the Salinas Valley headwind as we headed back north, but hoped that the showery weather would prevent that from being too bad.
As it turned out the wind wasn't much of a problem at all. I did encounter a few rain sprinkles and a pretty nice rainbow.
I was still riding slowly and pulled into Marina well after dark. Here I made the mistake of not getting anything caffeinated. I thought I was the last one headed back but just as I was getting ready to leave a couple more guys pulled in. Mark and John had apparently taken a wrong turn coming back from Greenfield and ended up in Soledad, then had to backtrack to pick up the right route. I hung out for a bit waiting but started to cool off too much, so I told them I was heading out, figuring they would catch up with my slow pace.
As it turned out they never did, even though I stopped a few times and waited for several minutes. By this time I had realized my mistake in not getting caffeine; I had not gotten enough sleep the week before the ride and it was really catching up to me. Luckily there was a gas station north of Moss Landing which had soda machines outside (the convenience store was already closed), and I happily retrieved a bottle of Coke and slugged it down over the next few miles north.
Eventually I pulled into Santa Cruz and made it back to SCR central where Bill took my victory picture.
I was really looking forward to getting home and sleeping, but a little worried about the upcoming 400k and 600k, which were longer distances than anything I had ridden before.

Heavy Weather - SCR Moss Beach 200k: 3/1/09

Another rainy day ride. In fact it was a stormy day ride. But thanks to my attempt at the Moss Beach Permanent two weeks earlier, I had skewed expectations of what bad weather was.

The day dawned gray and cloudy, with forecasts of rain and wind, but initially the rain held off. I had gathered my rain gear the night before, and my booties were benefiting from a dosing of silicone waterproofing spray, in the hopes that any rain would be held out that much longer. Additionally, given that the temperatures were supposed to be fairly warm (high 50s to low 60s) I threw my light fingerless gloves into the rack pack. For the definitive post-ride touch I had extra socks and sneakers in the car.

Breakfast and dressing went fairly quickly, followed by the 20-minute drive down to Santa Cruz. I had considered riding to the start, but decided I might regret that decision later if I ended up cold and miserable at the end of the ride. Having the car there turned out to be a good idea, but not for the reasons I originally thought.

I parked near the end of the ride, then hopped on the bike for the quick trip to the start at the Santa Cruz Surfing Museum, where the day's riders were gathering and signing in with Bill Bryant and Lois Springsteen of the Santa Cruz Randonneurs. Scott Brittle was there also; he was going to run SAG for the day. I had started with my full gloves and liners, but the morning was so warm I decided to switch to my light half gloves. I also fiddled with my cell phone; I had a ziplock bag to help protect it from the rain and decided to see how pictures looked taken inside the bag

vs. outside.

The bag definitely softened the images compared to no bag.
I decided I would use the bag whenever it was raining significantly, as a new cell phone wasn't in my plan for the near future. I'm hoping to pick up a weatherproof camera for future rides, perhaps an Olympus Stylus 1030SW, but for right now the cell phone will do, since I carry it anyway.

One more shot of the start:
After the usual informative pre-ride meeting we headed north under gray skies with light rain. As usual, I worked my way towards the back of the field with grim determination. The route used for today's ride was the reverse of "normal", with the outgoing leg being pretty much a straight shot north to Moss Beach via Pescadero, San Gregorio, and Half Moon Bay, whereas the return leg digressed to La Honda and rejoined Highway 1 via Haskins Hill.

After exiting Santa Cruz proper we passed by the usual collection of coastal farms, most looking forward to the later days of spring and summer.


No strawberries available today, but lots of green everywhere, along with ambitious flowers.

We quickly sailed past Bonny Doon Road, where just two weeks earlier the pros of the Amgen Tour of California had ridden up into the Santa Cruz Mountains to be welcomed by large crowds of people and medium-sized crowds of hail, then onward past Davenport.



A couple miles later brought the sight of Scott Creek, then after crossing the ridge paralleling the Swanton Road loop we dropped down by Waddell Beach (forgive the water spot on the lens) and the slide zone just south of the San Mateo County line.

So far the rain had not been too bad, and the wind was still pretty light (and from the south), so no worries.

Gazos Creek Road was pretty with all the recent rain, and the creek seemed to be rushing along as fast as we were going in the opposite direction. No broken spokes today!






After navigating the bumps on Cloverdale Road I stopped at the first control in Pescadero. I went into the usual market to get my receipt; however the front register was not open and it turned out that the register they used in the back gave receipts which not only had an incorrect time stamp but also didn't have any names identifying the town. I toyed with the idea of asking them for a store stamp, but decided since the time was incorrect anyway I would just pick something else up at a different store. The next store was perfect; properly labeled receipt and correct time stamp. I resolved to use this one for Pescadero from now on.

Next up was Stage Road to San Gregorio. I usually encounter this on the way back, but with today's "reversed" route it was actually nice to navigate with fresh legs and enjoy the views. (Sorry my bagged cell phone camera doesn't do it justice.)

Soon enough San Gregorio came into view, then the climb up the last part of Stage Road back to Highway 1. There I caught my second view of a cyclist pulling a trailer. I had passed him on Highway 1 shortly before turning onto Gazos Creek Road and I waved and we exchanged greetings as I pulled ahead again. I found out later from Alfie's pictures that his name was Brock Tully and he was riding on a personal mission: a kindness tour.

I rolled on with increasing traffic, now that we were getting close to Half Moon Bay. The rain was still not too bad overall, and I was still pretty dry; a far contrast to my last attempt at this route where I was pretty much soaked within four hours of starting. At one point I was spied upon by a bunch of birds on the wires.
The miles to Half Moon Bay rolled past, then it was onwards to El Granada with the big golf ball sticking up over the coast.

Finally I reached the turnaround at Moss Beach, where Alfie, Lisa, and Scott were welcoming randonneurs with food & drink, and Alfie was taking pictures of every bike and rider that rolled up. Here Alfie is busy snapping shots of my bike, while an unknown rider hangs out next to Lisa and Scott. I refilled my Camelbak one more time and snarfed a banana, then headed back south to Half Moon Bay, now pushing into the wind.

On the way to Half Moon Bay I passed one of those signs that make it obvious you're in California.


I stopped in a Starbucks for a turkey sandwich and a double espresso, but the line for their restroom was slow, so I popped next door to the completely empty Subway where I bought a bottle of juice and then, enjoying my new status as a customer, made use of their restroom.

From that point on it was pushing south into the wind, which wasn't too bad at this point. I made the turn onto Stage Road, zoomed down to San Gregorio, then turned uphill on Highway 84 towards La Honda. Arriving at La Honda I had a sense of deja vu; once again it was a gloomy rainy day, my gloves and shoes had begun to soak through, and I had to dry my hands off on newspaper to avoid smudging my postcard. However it was much warmer than the last time, and I was on the homeward stretch, so no worries.

I headed down Highway 84 to Pescadero Road and began the climb up Haskins Hill. I caught glimpses of another cyclist in front of me and near the summit I noticed he was walking. I was briefly distracted by my seat squeaking, and decided it needed a shot of cooking spray between the pad and the seat pan when I got back home. In retrospect I should have remembered that whenever my seat had squeaked before, it meant the seat pivot bolt had sheared off and I was stressing the quick release. (The ultra-wide, ultra-comfortable seat on my bike is held on by a pivot bolt and a quick release which allows changing the angle easily.)

I was just about to catch up to the other rider when I heard "Bang! Ping...ping...ping...". Great, now what's wrong? I pulled off and checked out my seat. Hmm....the seat pivot bolt is missing its bolt head...and the quick release is missing the nut. Both had sheared off, probably the seat pivot bolt first and then the quick release bolt once it had had enough. I was 40 miles from the end of the ride and my seat was flopping back and forth and side to side, essentially unattached.

After examining things for a couple of minutes I removed the cam washer from the quick release (making the remaining portion long enough to reach all the way through the seat brackets) and stuck it through the quick release slots in front of my seat post (instead of through the holes in the seat post). I secured it with a couple of zip ties and electrical tape (good things to have). Gravity, my body weight, and the remaining half of the seat pivot bolt held the seat in more or less the right position as long as I was careful not to stress it too much. I decided to take it easy from now on, since I would rather make it back late than not at all.

Surgery complete, I finished the climb up to the summit and snapped a couple more shots for posterity, looking inland
and towards the ocean.

I could see the clouds were clearing way off over the ocean; perhaps this meant an end to the rain. At any rate, I was on the home stretch, zooming down the hill, through Loma Mar, and on towards Butano Cutoff. But now that I was pointing south the wind decided to have a say in the matter. It was blowing probably 20+ mph, making progress on Cloverdale Road extremely slow across the flats. I was very happy to get to the couple of hills marking the junction with Gazos Creek Road, but was dreading the return to Highway 1. At least the rain had completely stopped; I was even drying out my gloves in the wind.

Towards the end of Gazos Creek Road another randonneur came up behind me on a classic Miyata, downtube friction shifters, etc. This turned out to be Brian Schaeffer. I told him my sad story of broken seats and broken hearts, and as we got to Highway 1 he told me to tuck in behind him and he pulled us for about the next 10 miles into the wind, till we crossed the county line and I dropped back to take a sunset picture.
I figured that was work enough for him, and I'd owe him a beer the next time I saw him. I pushed on, knowing there wasn't much left to go. A little while later I noticed the glow of a rider's helmet light near an emergency call box. I though maybe it was Brian waiting for me, but as I pulled over I realized it was a different rider, actually Phil Magallanes, who had had an epic day for flats and was out of working tubes. I offered him one of my spare tubes, and then on second thought gave him my second one. I wasn't too worried about flats with my tires, but he apparently needed all the help he could get. It turned out he ended up using both of them.

I continued on south, leaving Phil to finish fixing his tire, and had just passed Davenport when a rider caught up to me. I figured it was Phil, but no, it was Brian again. He had made a pit stop in Davenport, which allowed me to pass him. Once again he took the lead and pulled us the rest of the way into Santa Cruz, with no further mishaps. Now I owed him two beers.

At the finish we signed in and chatted about the day; apparently many riders had had multiple flats from all the debris. I mentally kissed my tires, thanked my abused quick release for good measure, then headed for home. The weather had been bad, but not as terrible as two weeks before, so I considered it a fairly nice day except for the wind at the end. Now I had two weeks to get things fixed on the bike before my next official ride. I took a shot of my emergency repair job.
Notice the small hole to the upper right where the seat pivot bolt is MIA. Randy Schlitter of Rans Bicycles is sending me replacement parts for everything cracked, sheared, etc., so the bike should be better than new by next week. Now there's just the little matter of lining up some nice weather for the next ride...

A taste of spring - SFR Russsian River 300k: 2/21/2009

Ahhh, the legendary SFR 300k. I'd heard stories of the 2007 ride - epic wind and rain, with riders saved by the generosity of the Marshall store in staying open long past their official hours. I had even had my own epic experience the weekend before, although for only half the distance (93 miles instead of 187). Even the night before there was conflicting weather information: accuweather claimed rain all day, although with light winds, while the sfgate.com weather forecast was much more benign, with rain not expected to move in until the evening. What would it be?

As it turned out, the day was a great one for cycling. It was hard to tell in the pre-dawn darkness as I downed breakfast, drove over to the start and unloaded the bike, but the weather gods were definitely smiling that day.

As this was my second ride with the San Francisco Randonneurs, I knew pretty much what to expect for a lot of the route, especially the first 20 miles or so. My main concern was avoiding the rocks which had caused a flat tire on the SFR 200k in January. After the pre-ride meeting, warnings, and Randonneurs pledge doled out by Rob Hawks, we were off, streaming over the Golden Gate Bridge in a line of reflective illuminated HPVs. I successfully negotiated the downhill into Sausalito without hitting a single rock (yay!), and thus was still in contact with the group as we worked our way towards Mill Valley. It was nice being able to occasionally chat with riders instead of doing the solo thing, and not having to concentrate on the route sheet/street signs was another bonus.

I took it easy going over Camino Alto, and again on Whites Hill, wanting to make sure I would have enough gas for later in the day. As I'm a pretty slow rider I was near the end of the pack at this point, but the day was turning out pretty nice and my legs were in much better shape than they had been in January.

As I headed down Sir Francis Drake I decided to make a pit stop in Samuel P. Taylor park. I knew there was a bike path through the park which was okay to use, but decided to stay on the road as traffic was light and I'm used to crappy roads (we have lots of those in the Santa Cruz Mountains). As I was exiting the park I passed another group of riders entering, and briefly thought about turning around and joining them, but decided to push down the road a bit.

About a mile or so later I noticed another entrance to the bike path and decided to check it out after all. I had
been planning to get a camera to take pictures during my brevets, but hadn't yet, so the cell phone came out and got fiddled with. The result is somewhat underwater looking, but I'll just credit that to leftover feelings from the previous weekend's ride.

Soon I noticed the group coming down the bike path towards me and snapped another unsteady shot.


Hey, it's a cell phone, not a camera.

At any rate, I hung with this group for a while, fielding comments about my bike (Rans Zenetik Tour), and enjoying the views as we climbed past the Nicasio Reservoir. This group included Kitty Goursolle and Bob Koen, as well as a couple of riders (Nicole and ?) who were just out for a spin and weren't in the 300k.

We soon came to the "secret" control, at which point I should have picked up a postcard in case I got to the Marshall control after the store was closed; somehow the thought was driven out of my head and I left without getting one. This was to cause much anxiety later.

The miles went by as we headed along past fields and gentle hills towards Petaluma. At Petaluma Nicole and her companion said their goodbyes, and we headed towards the Safeway. I took a little extra time here and left behind the group but the day was nice and as I said, I'm a pretty slow rider. The flowers (mostly Scotch Broom, unfortunately) were out in force in the many fields along the route.
The route zigged and zagged through Santa Rosa, with a funky park that I wanted to check out some other time.
Next was Healdsburg, the northernmost point of the route and the next control. I noticed a small park a few miles before getting there and did a quick stop to use the bathroom and refill my Camelbak telling myself I would save time at the control. This turned out to be mistaken.
At the Safeway in Healdsburg I decided to get a Nantucket Nectar. I then spent about 10 minutes in a "fruitless" search for the fruit juice aisle. One aisle was labeled "juice" but had no juice in it. Eventually I located the other, correctly labeled juice aisle, but had to settle for something other than my original choice, I don't even remember what now. Oh well, I also grabbed a V8 while I was there, those are always good. I took off ahead of a few riders still finishing lunch, knowing that they would probably pass me in the next hour or two.

I was now in the doldrums of my riding day. The route circled around the Russian River Valley, bouncing up and down hills covered with still-dormant grapevines, while my legs needed a break. I took my time and kept hoping that the next hill would be the last. I began to doubt that I would make it to Marshall before the store closed.

Finally the turn onto River Road appeared and my pace picked up a bit. This was a nice bit of riding, although with a bit more traffic. My legs started to feel better, which was good as I knew that Highway 1 was coming up with more hills. Finally, the bridge appeared and it was time to say goodbye, Russian River Valleyhello, Pacific Ocean.
Just after the bridge over the Russian River I stopped to chat with a group of touring cyclists who were curious about all the other cyclists they had seen. They were doing a three day tour and were heading down to Bodega Bay for the evening. That was my next destination too, but not my final one.

A few hills later I saw a terrible place to surf
but was very close to Bodega Bay. Here I bumped into a few other Randonneurs at Diekman's store (the next control), including the two 'bent riders Thomas and Jonathan. It turns out we had ridden together in the Santa Cruz Randonneurs 200k in August 2008 (my first brevet). Since I had forgotten to get a postcard at the secret control I asked them for the address, then picked up a postcard in the store with my other supplies. Surprisingly the store did not sell stamps.

Now I was on a search to make sure I got a stamp before getting to Marshall. I pedaled slowly through Bodega Bay looking for signs to the post office when I noticed the visitor's information center on the left. After waiting for the woman inside to finish her phone call I inquired about stamps, only to be told that there was probably no place in town to buy stamps until Monday. Apparently the post office had taken the stamp machine out after several episodes of vandalism with silly putty, and she didn't know of anyplace else that sold stamps. I did get to use the rest room, then quickly checked a gas station store next door, but they too didn't sell stamps.

Now my options were dwindling. I had two towns left before Marshall, but they were both smaller than Bodega Bay. I wheeled my way southward and on to the town of Valley Ford. I stopped at the main store and, not too hopefully, asked the woman if they sold stamps. "Of course! How many do you need?" Yee-haw!
I bought my one stamp and thanked her for saving my ride, then hit the road for Tomales and Marshall. Along the way I was treated to a gorgeous sunset, near a house with fiddle music coming from it.
And the sunset got even better. The cows probably loved it, but ignored it anyway.
I rolled into Marshall around 7pm and mailed my hard-earned postcard. At this point the much rumored rain was beginning to move in and I rode on through a few light sprinkles towards Point Reyes Station. Night riding with little or no traffic always gives me a feeling of timelessness, it's just you and your lights moving through the mostly hidden countryside and there's no real point in checking what time it is or how far you've gone, because you'll get there when you get there. So I kept turning the pedals, and eventually I got to Nicasio, then up over the hill and back to Sir Francis Drake.

I headed up Whites Hill then got a surprise; right around the summit I came upon the 'bent boys again. With all the time I spent looking for a stamp I thought I had seen the last of them back in Bodega Bay. I trailed them down into Fairfax, then stopped to call my wife.

The rest of the route passed by uneventfully until I got onto the Golden Gate Bridge. The wind was once again a wild thing here, gusting fiercely as I negotiated my way around the towers. But it was a token gesture; the ride was done as I could walk the remaining distance if needed, and there was no need. Soon I buzzed out the far side of the bridge and wheeled down to the finish.

A quick signout later I was back at the car and pondering dinner possibilities before the drive back to Santa Cruz. All in all it was a good ride, and while my time was not as fast as I had hoped for, the result was the same: 300k done, no flats, relatively good weather. Oh yes, and one In-n-out cheeseburger animal style! Yum!

Ups and downs - SFR Point Reyes 200k Brevet: 1/24/2009

I wasn't ready for this ride. I hadn't done much riding since my last 200k permanent in December, and that was pretty flat. This was supposed to have about 7000 feet of climing, plus I had been laid low with a cold/sinus thing and hadn't done any riding in a week. But then again, I usually don't think I'm ready for most of the rides I do, then get pleasantly surprised most of the time. This was not quite the case here.

This was my first time riding with the San Francisco Randonneurs. Most of their rides start in San Francisco just south of the Golden Gate Bridge, head north over the bridge and then follow a somewhat involved route through the Marin County communities until leaving civilization mostly behind at Fairfax. As this brevet went into the Point Reyes National Seashore National Park, there was a 100 rider limit, and it seemed that all 100 riders knew the route blindfolded except me. At the start we gathered round Rob Hawks to hear the dos and don'ts, then streamed off over the Golden Gate Bridge. As luck would have it, on the first downhill after crossing the bridge I hit a rock and flatted my rear tire. First flat in over 1000 miles. I pulled over and watched everyone else speed off into the early morning gloom.
Oh well...guess I'll be the caboose.

I was worried that the tire (Schwalbe Marathon Plus) would prove beastly to remove and replace, as they had been very stiff and difficult to mount when new but it actually wasn't so bad. The tires apparently relaxed quite a bit since installation, so it wasn't much more work than changing a normal tire. Eventually I was on my way again solo, with much consultation of the route sheet for the myriad turns and street name changes. Hills always seem longer when you don't know the terrain, so the little climb over Camino Alto seemed to take forever.
Eventually making my way over White's Hill on Sir Francis Drake Blvd., I descended towards Olema and then headed out to the Point Reyes Lighthouse. This involved about 20 miles of rolling hills (trending up in altitude). I really don't like rolling hills. I particularly didn't like them that day. It was even more fun knowing I would have to ride the whole 20 miles back. Did I mention I wasn't ready for this ride?

After a quick stop with the SFR volunteers to sign my brevet card and refill water/fluids I headed back towards the town of Point Reyes Station. The 20 miles of rolling hills were definitely painful, but since I was trending down in altitude it wasn't as bad as it had been going out. Point Reyes Station looked like a cool town to check out sometime when my legs aren't hurting. I kept on rolling towards Marshall along Highway 1, featuring (gasp!) more rolling hills. But it was worth it to get that warm clam chowder and take a break. The weather had been pretty nice for January; cool and a little damp but not cold and wet. I grabbed a Nantucket Nectar for the home leg and headed out.

The leg back from Marshall was my favorite leg of the trip. The rollers back to Point Reyes Station didn't seem so bad, then there was a gentle climb up beside the Nicasio reservoir and a pleasant ride through the Nicasio Valley along (what else) Nicasio Valley Road. Eventually the road headed upwards again, but this was more my kind of climbing, a reasonably long stretch with plenty of trees for company. Nicasio Valley Road eventually swooped downhill ( my favorite part of a long climb - what goes up and up and up usually goes down and down and down and...) and dumped me back onto Sir Francis Drake Blvd, now with lights on.

I was a little misplaced here and thought I was already over White's Hill, only to discover my mistake a couple of miles later, but the climbing was much shorter from this side, which my unhappy legs really appreciated. The route now retraced its earlier meanderings through Fairfax, Mill Valley, etc, with the climb over Camino Alto breaking up the relative flatness. Finally I was back in view of the Golden Gate, with the final chug up to the bridge approach (past the scene of the earlier tire-flattening crime). It was getting chillier at this point so I added an extra layer before crossing the bridge, and was happy for it as the cross winds were fairly strong. After getting buzzed through it was a simple down and around to the parking lot to get my final brevet card signature and a coke, and then load up the bike and head out looking for dinner. I was pretty happy with the day, given the shape my legs were in, and also I had knocked off my 200k for January, putting me halfway towards the R-12. Yippee!