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...

Who'll stop the rain? - Moss Beach Permanent: 2/15/2009

I scheduled this permanent a week before the SFR Russian River 300k to get some miles on my legs before going for the longer distance. It turns out I had picked the absolute worst day to ride on. Sunday Feb. 15 was forecast for rain and strong gusty winds. The night before I made sure I had all my rain gear and decided I would probably start the ride and turn around if things got too bad.

The morning was gray and windy, with a few sprinkles but no real rain yet. I drove down to the start and got everything on the bike before the rain really started, but the wind was definitely blowing "backwards", from the south. As I headed up Highway 1 I had a good boost from the wind, but I was worried about having to fight it on the way back. The wind was gusting and pushing me around quite a bit, and it seemed like it was blowing even harder higher up because every grove of eucalyptus trees I passed was roaring and bucking, and debris from the trees was all over the pavement. Some distance north of Davenport I heard the telltale "crack!" I had been listening for and quickly scanned around to try and locate the tree limb which had just succumbed to the wind's fury. Luckily it was in a field well away from the road. But this made me extra nervous and I kept an eye out every time I passed by another grove of trees.

The rain had been coming down for a while, but I was still pretty dry with my gloves, booties, tights, and rain jacket holding most everything out. I passed Waddell Beach and entered San Mateo County, still thinking I might have an okay day after all. A couple of miles later I heard a "clunk!", as if my chain had just settled onto a different cog, except I didn't feel anything slip in the drivetrain. I rode on for a couple of minutes thinking over possible causes in my head and wondering why my rear wheel suddenly seemed to be brushing the fender until suddenly the thought hit me: maybe that was a spoke popping. Sure enough I had broken a spoke on the rear, and I didn't have any spare spokes with me. I was about 25 miles in at that point...hmmm...perhaps this was another sign I should turn around. But the wheel was not too far out of true, and I have a disc brake on the rear so it was not affected. I just had to put up with the tire rubbing the fender slightly once every revolution. Might as well keep going.

I turned up Gazos Creek Road and got some shelter from the wind, but the debris on the pavement was even worse here. Luckily with no traffic I could use any part of the road I wanted, and I did. Well, until I saw the wires being pulled down to the ground by a fallen tree limb. The wires had not broken; they had just been stretched between poles by the weight of the tree limb. I couldn't tell if they were electrical or not, or if the power was on, so I gave them a very wide berth. A few minutes later I spied a ranger truck heading the other way and flagged him down to give him the news. He looked pretty wet in the truck (probably from getting out to check things every now and then), and he probably wondered what in the world I was doing out there on a bike.

Now the rain was really pelting down as I made my way along Cloverdale Road. My gloves were starting to siphon up water and I felt a spot or two on my feet where the water was soaking in also. I turned onto Butano Cutoff and really felt the wind now, even though I wasn't heading directly into it. As I turned up Pescadero Creek Road I switched from thinking about if I was going to turn around and started deciding where to turn around. The traffic was very light and consisted almost entirely of CHP cars, PG&E trucks and various maintenance vehicles. At least if I got in trouble help wouldn't be too far away. I decided to try and make it to La Honda. That would get me a fair amount of distance and climbing in preparation for the SFR 300k.

My shoes were now definitely soaked; I noticed I could tilt my feet up or down and feel the coldness move as the water shifted around. My hands were in a similar state, and I started a mental countdown: if I reached the summit of Haskins Hill before mile 40 on my bike computer then I would keep going. My computer clicked to 40, but I knew I was close so then it became reaching the summit before the 40 became a 41. I passed two more CHP cars apparently chatting, then finally the summit came in view. With a mental cheer I swooped carefully down the other side to Highway 84, then sloshed up to La Honda.

At the post office I removed my gloves and glove liners, then squeezed a fair amount of water out of the glove liners. I used some newspaper in the post office to dry my hands off so I wouldn't smudge the postcard too badly, then worked on my pen for a while until I could fill out my card. I dropped it in the mail , then went over to the market to use the bathroom and pick up some water.

In the bathroom I went through quite a few paper towels trying to get my glove liners as dry as I could; I couldn't do much with the gloves themselves, however, and decided that this was a good reason to consider bringing two sets of gloves & liners for days like this. Of course I couldn't do much about my feet. At least I could still feel 4 of my toes. As a final touch to help ward off the chill I pulled my Marmot Windshirt out of my rack bag (which was surprisingly still pretty dry inside - I guess I don't need to bother with the rain cover for it) and put that on between my wet jersey and my wet jacket, then headed back out into the storm.

Even though I had decided to turn back early, I hadn't made up my mind where yet. I initially turned onto Pescadero Road to go back over Haskins Hill, then changed my mind and went back to Highway 84 and down towards San Gregorio. As I approached San Gregorio I briefly toyed with the idea of continuing on instead of turning back. After all, it wasn't that much farther to Moss Beach. But no, I was already cold and wet enough, and then there was that headwind to consider. So I turned left onto Stage Road, but then changed my mind and turned around and headed back towards Highway 84, then decided to stop being stupid and turned around again for good. After all, I had broken a spoke and seen enough tree debris, downed wires, and slides already. And there was that wind.

Oh yes, the wind. Now that I was foolishly trying to head south I was being pushed and knocked around by it. I got some shelter when the road ducked down, but each time it climbed over a hill I would hear the freight train sound of the nearest trees and eye them nervously as I crept high enough to feel the full force of the wind. At one point I was knocked around enough to just stop and wait for 30 seconds before the gusts subsided a bit. Luckily I was still getting quite a bit of shelter from the wind by the hills. I didn't bother stopping in Pescadero; I was just ready to get back home at this point.

Cloverdale Road was another long grind of howling winds, but the rain had let up quite a bit so I convinced myself it wasn't so bad. Gazos Creek Road was a nice break with the winds pretty well blocked, and even the stretched wires were back up, with the cut-up remains of the tree limb nearby. But as I turned south onto Highway 1 I was hit in the face by the wind and rain big time. 25 miles of this was not going to be fun. Luckily after about 10 miles the wind let up quite a bit and I was able to make pretty good time. I don't know if it was a lull in the storm or if the main force had pushed further north. Once again my mind started telling me I should have gone on to Moss Beach, but I countered by realizing there was no guarantee that the wind was lessened further north, and anyway, there was still the little matter of my numb 6 toes. I finally pulled back into Santa Cruz and loaded up the bike, threw gloves, helmet, and booties over to the right side, and cranked the heater up to 80+. I made a mental note of another good thing to do next time: have dry shoes and socks in the car. Oh well, I had done about 93 miles in terrible conditions. I guess I could survive a bit longer in a car with a heater until I got home.

I found out later that it rained over 5 inches that day in Ben Lomond (where I live). My rain gear held up for about 4 hours before leaking, and nothing in my bike bags was completely dry, but the rack bag held up surprisingly well; things inside were just slightly damp. My food bag was a little more damp and the tool bag was fairly wet, but almost everything in those was either wrapped or uncaring about being wet. My lights and bike computer were perfectly fine, except my helmet light, which I discovered a couple of days later when it started turning itself on spontaneously. I opened it up and took out the batteries and after a couple of hours drying in the sun it was okay again.

I think for next winter I'll invest in a pair of winter riding shoes. Either that or the plastic bags that everyone seems to end up wearing. I would prefer shoes that hold out the water, however, instead of having dry feet inside wet shoes. Perhaps shoes with built-in bilge pumps. Given the amount of time I spend on a bike I could certainly come up with all sorts of useful inventions for inclement weather.
Some of them might even work.