James E Good

The Good Times 2010 Hoodoo 500 Rookie Race Report, or, the episode of “My meat turns rancid after nearly 39 hours in the hurt locker”

2010-09-07T06:57:00.000-07:00

Moments before realizing a 25 gear on my way to Boulder was dumb...

The very slow ascent up Cedar Breaks, broken up by cattle guards...

Hey y'all - follow car in hot pursuit

Escalante bound

Just at the start of the race past Hurricane... many miles to go

The Good Times 2010 Hoodoo 500 Rookie Race Report, or, the episode of “My meat turns rancid after nearly 39 hours in the hurt locker”

My typical race reports of road races and criteriums discuss team tactics, weather, particular laps, my own thoughts about the race, mistakes made, opportunities, and results. This race report has to be different because of the many parts of the course, weather involved, crew tactics, etc. I’ll try and stick to the same format as best I can…

One caveat though, I write the following report as a thank you to those folks who wrote reports before and posted them for my benefit. If you continue to read it you accept that you might not like what you read because I lay it all open for those who are planning for their first endurance race.

What: A 517ish mile out and back race from St. George, UT. It meanders around southern Utah plus a bit of Arizona, basically to not make Arizona feel left out of such a great opportunity for cruel and unusual punishment. While some races avoid those big climbs, Hoodoo hit every single one. I credit the race organizers for getting all the necessary paperwork together to accomplish the amazing race.

Who: The race starts well before the actual start time, 18 signed up in the solo category but only 13 started. This was my first endurance race of any kind beyond 100 miles. Median age is 43. Note: I just returned from volunteering at a local charity ride rest stop where it was mentioned I had completed a 500 mile race and the general response was, “I’m glad he still has his youth to do something like that”. The two gentlemen who finished ahead of me were 58 and 59.

Weather: Ranged from low 40s to high 90s, no rain, but wind in the face for 50% of the course at up to 30 mph.

Why did I do it:
It has been over a year since my trip across the states and a lot has happened in my little cycling world. Part of the events I planned after my sojourn would be to try the RAAM in 2011. In planning for the RAAM I had to pick a qualifying race, so I naturally looked for a race nearby. Careful consideration however led me across the country to the Hoodoo 500 in Utah instead because of several reasons,
1. It is an out and back loop, no laps
2. Incredible scenery would be less of a sell to get a crew out to help and my mind from wandering
3. It would take me to parts of Utah I probably wouldn’t visit in other circumstances
4. It appears to be an extremely difficult course thus good training!
5. It requires a support crew, which I consider a large part of the race for RAAM
6. In reading the website and reports the organizers seemed to have all the good points I look for in a race, mainly a good attitude.
7. I haven’t ridden in Utah so I might as well knock out the entire southern part of Utah and a part of northern Arizona.

Goals:
My goals for the race were tiered based on the possibility of each occurring,
1. Beat the course record, it is a young race so I think I can do it at about 18mph average
2. Win it
3. Qualify for RAAM (10% of first place finish time) …old rules as I later discovered
4. Just finish!

Preparation:
As I mentioned before, the race started well before the actual start. Careful preparation will determine the outcome of your 500 mile time trial. While talking with another rider on the neutral roll out we discussed our goals, he only wanted to finish in 40 hours. It hadn’t occurred to me that I might not finish. In preparing for the race I wanted to eliminate as many variables as I could that would prevent me from completing the race. So to me, failure was based on a function of time spent in training and preparation over the number of known variables with chance of failure such as mechanicals, physiology, follow vehicle failure, etc. I didn’t know anyone who had completed a race like the Hoodoo so I didn’t have anyone to talk to about preparation. Race reports from the Hoodoo website were helpful for crewing and vehicle setup. My longest ride was the 195 miles and 15 hours on the bike tour from Denver to Francis KS in 2009. I would push boundaries way beyond the solo trip across the states. After rereading my reports from my trip I learned that I spent most of my time dehydrated so I couldn’t repeat the same mistake on the Hoodoo. I considered hydration the biggest factor in my success of the Hoodoo.

Prior to the race I changed the stems on the road bikes to have a higher rise so I would sit more upright rather than racing a 500 mile crit…

The short list of items used for the race:

· Honda Element – Roof rack with two trays
· Wonderful wife and awesome friend for crew to drive the above
· 10 gallons of water
· Powdered Gatorade
· Hammer Perpetuem
· Box of mint Clif Bars (added caffeine)
· 2 lbs of grapes
· 2 lbs of carrots
· Dozen fig newton things from Whole Foods
· 1 lb of dark chocolate coffee beans
· 2007 Cannondale System Six, 53/39 crank, Mavic Elites with 28/11 cassette
· 2008 Giant TCR, 53/39 crank, Mavic SLs with 25/12 cassette
· 2009 Look 576, 53/39 crank, Mavic Carbones with 25/11 cassette
· A lot of lighting – tail lights, head lights, helmet lights, tikka lights, gorilla lights, etc. The most useful was the Blackburn w external battery – to see, not to be seen on the night descents.
· Arm warmers, leg warmers, knee warmers (2), 3 season gloves (2), rain jacket, 2 kits, white “cool” sleeves for warm weather, a few pairs of socks, 2 pairs of shoes
· Ziploc bags
· Cooler
· Various tools for roadside repairs, half a dozen tubes (I didn’t need a single one!)
· A dozen knee high panty hose
· Paper towels and one roll of toilet paper… very important as I found out later

My approach was to keep things simple in terms of nutrition but I think I fouled it up with items I hadn’t used before such as the coffee beans (same as coffee right…) which I thought would be a suitable substitute since most places along the route would be closed on Sunday.
In terms of training in miles for the race I could not get much more than a few centuries in during June. I had big plans to do back to back centuries, unfortunately conflicting goals of moving up to Category 2 in the USAC kept me from adequate training for the Hoodoo, I participated in nearly 40 races from April through August, mostly criteriums. Illustrating the conflict more my wife and I drove directly from the North Wilkesboro Speedway Exhale Criterium Races to go to Utah the previous Sunday of the race. Perhaps you could consider it a preparation mistake to have two conflicting goals of an endurance race versus strength, but I knew ahead of time what I was getting myself into on the strength side.

Prerace:
My wife and I arrived in Utah on Thursday via I-70 and decided to drive the course from Loa to Cedar City since I had never been on those roads. It would be nice to see the course during the day too. During the drive I rode a few miles between Loa and Koosharem to see the left turn on the descent. The wind was blowing up the valley at about 10-15mph but the TT bike was cutting the wind well. My typical speed in that kind of wind with my tour was 10mph but I was doing between 16 and 18, I was in good spirits. At that time I also wanted to get a camelbak to stay aero and hydrated. We drove through Panguitch and Cedar City at dusk and noted the many ramps I would be riding up, but it didn’t look too bad.

My approach to the race was to split it into four 120 mile parts since double metrics would be more conceivable for my mind to understand. At each section I could mentally put the previous part aside and start anew. My single biggest concern was staying hydrated and comfortable for as long as possible in the saddle. I hoped that a three bike variety and a whole lotta chamois cream would help. I would keep my heart rate around 130 – 140 which I thought to be manageable for a long period of time. I had no idea what my body would do after 24 hours of riding, but I thought the quicker I got it done the better.

The Race:
Maybe it was my own reflection on the race but it felt like there was a healthy fear of the unknown at the start line. The air was crisp (and lovely with no humidity) as well as the quick roll call for the solo 7am start. I felt like I was forgetting something in preparing for the morning but everything was accounted for, double checking was enough. Off with a bang or rather a slow boil we went out the back of the hotel on our way out town.

To Time Station 1 – Kanab 83 miles in
The bikes were a wide variety of TT bikes and road bikes, I think I even saw a Y foil in the bunch during registration. I chose the Giant to start since the first 20 miles or so were neutral and the topo map showed a large climb out of Hurricane. A neutral rolling start led us out of town and up to highway 9 into Hurricane. I was in the back to watch the development of the race and to determine who the players were. I wasn’t sure what else to do other than have a few conversations with some other riders. If it were a crit field we looked like a bunch of category 5s and weekend warriors. The physical ability of some of the riders was highly questionable considering the appearance of diets heavy in items other than vegetables. A split formed immediately on the first downhill after the race turned live and I tagged onto it. I felt the split was going a tad slow so I pushed a little to the top to see who would chase, a couple folks did. Now that I was in the lead “the man without a plan” as I am referred to in the race fields thought I might as well keep it, so I pedaled on careful to manage the heartrate at around 150. The ride into Hurricane was nice, I was carried by the excitement of seeing all the support vehicles rallying to the first climb out of town. I took on a fresh water bottle before Hurricane and spun up the hill with one rider close on my heels. After the hardest inclines I was chased down and passed, he was on a TT bike so I followed suit after a nature break. I applied more pressure to the front thinking if I were to win the race I would have to make the old men suffer and make them work harder than they had planned.

We continued our gradual ascent into Arizona on a southerly direction, the winds blew across my shoulders but my legs were far too fresh to think they were a factor. It is possible the only reason we went to Arizona was to take advantage of the flats in the northern part up the state. The entire state of Utah is similar to western Colorado with its ups and downs, water can never rest in these states. By the time I made it to Fredonia AZ I had about 6 minutes on the next rider and 3 more water bottles behind me. The panty hose ice sausages I saw used in the TdF were deployed and they worked wonderfully to numb the traps and keep me cool. The wind was a little brisk but my time was good to the first time station – 4.75 hours across 83 miles. Usually at 80 miles I’m feeling very tired but having a support crew to keep me fueled was quite nice and invigorating. Everything felt good, big confidence boost. I was using much more chamois cream than I had anticipated, but no problems.

Kanab was having a western festival and parade which I made it through before the parade started. Based on the results it looked like one rider was caught in the festivities with a 2 minute time bonus. It is one more variable a rider can’t plan for during 500+ miles of racing.
It was clear the previous year’s winner Holt was going to keep my wheels in his crosshairs, the only support vehicle left to leapfrog through to keep my time was his support vehicle. North of Kanab was another decent climb and I thought I would make up some more time by pushing a little more, the HR hit 165 at one point. I thought it wouldn’t hurt. The legs felt good.

To Time Station 2 – Bryce Canyon 155 miles in
The winds were at my back for the northerly track to Bryce with small undulations but mostly consistent grades to keep a high speed. I continued my quest for my time until I made the turn on UT-12 which I met a strong wind in the face. I decided to cool it for a bit and pace through until I could turn out of the wind again. A voyager I had passed earlier caught back up and we rode a few miles together through the bike trail. Along the way he gave me a stern warning of Holt’s cycling prowess, “The man’s a beast, he’s so consistent.” My only thought would be to break the old man’s will by having him continue to chase me at a higher effort than perhaps he was used to riding. During the ride through the Bryce bike path I noticed the derailleur on the TT bike was hitting the spokes on the 25 gear… My heart rate was also diminished, I was managing 130 at my best, were my legs giving out? My legs felt fine, was my cardio just worn out? Through to the Bryce Chevron time station at 3.6 hours under the watchful eye of Holt’s crew, I punctuated their review of my progress by the comedic pause of each of the 2 stop signs along the bike path route in front of the gas station.

To Time Station 3 – Escalante 203 miles in
Still on the TT bike I continued to make good time by bombing the somewhat flats and slicing through the rolling hills. Some of the locals were nonplussed about my white line hogging presence and made a return visit to revocalize their disdain, the first of many taunts and jeers I’d receive along the way. My time was good, at least it felt good until I hit the major climb before the gradual descent into Escalante. The sounds of spokes hitting the derailleur were too much as I ground my knees into the pavement like coffee beans through burrs of the final 200 meters to the top. My crew had already went to the top and I had cried out for their return, they did quickly thinking something far worse had happened… fortunately it did not. As I made the bike change to the Giant I looked back and there was Holt menacing my departure from the roadside. Incredible! I made haste over the hill and didn’t look back. My ground up legs were tired though, especially by the catapulted effort of hurtling a hill on a TT 23 cog. Not good. I felt my focus waning, I wasn’t as careful on the nutrition but my hydration was still up to par. I forgot what I had taken in for food and my timing was off for just about everything. The day’s activities were starting to take its course. I asked my crew to start taking a log of my nutrition and wished I had already made a chart with times and suggested intake to accompany the time diary. I arrived in Escalante with a full bladder and the sound of screaming kids and music. Always good to have some fanfare. I stopped for nature’s call in the voyager’s room and made my way back onto the bike. I expressed my concern about the heart rate to a voyager and he said it was normal.

At the time I didn’t know it but Holt had passed me by and was moving through town. Holt’s crew had also determined my d-hanger was bent on the TT bike. There’s a certain camaraderie among the crews and riders which I appreciate, the course is the trial and we’re all in it together to the finish.

By now I was nearly 11 hours on the bike averaging better than 18mph, I was exactly where I wanted to be. I didn’t feel dehydrated, I wasn’t too tired, and was in general good spirits. My legs didn’t necessarily feel fatigued, but my heart rate could sustain only around 110-120.
It was good to see the voyagers, they’re a hardy crew. I saw most didn’t have a full rack on their bike or other touring accoutrement, they depended more on the drop bags between stops. I think if I were to do a voyager class I would camel bak it with the necessary tools to do roadside fixes, 2 bottles of Perpetuem, winter gear, and a little food would be all I would carry between stops.

To Time Station 4 – Loa 284 miles in
6pm out of Escalante promised I would get to see sunset in one of my favorite spots in Utah, UT-12 between Boulder and Escalante. Hell’s backbone is a razor thin strip of road with perilous drops on either side which affords fantastic views of all the desert’s exotic colors (to a southern country boy) inflamed by the sun’s setting gaze. There’s a certain peace before nightfall on the bike that gives a rider solace. The lull of the end of the day massages the mind as it does every day, but today I must have the vigilance to finish the other half of the race. It’s a little daunting to realize the race is not quite to the half way mark and it feels as though we have done enough for the day.

All poetry aside, my biggest rookie mistake was perpetuated again on the climb into Boulder, and would precipitate my coming failure to stay on the wheels of Holt’s train of ultra-distant tyranny. On any given race day, a 25 cog up a 6-7% climb would be fine… but not after 12 hours on the bike. I crushed the hill yes, but not after suffering in the knee pain department. I had already 1200mg of ibuprofen in me by then, and the pills had to start coming faster. My heart rate managed only 110bpm after the climb and I descended into Boulder knowing I had made a big mistake. I spent more time checking what was behind me than what was ahead. A solo support vehicle had passed by without a rider in tow so I assumed we had a DNF. I stopped in Boulder and prepared for the night ride and noted the elevation map to the next time station. I noticed the spike but in relation to Cedar Breaks I had not realized I would be climbing into the night for a long time. I changed bikes to the 28/11 Cannondale for the climb out of Boulder more out of the reminder I could not ride on a 25 anymore. I wouldn’t have made it to Loa or to St George without it. I was a fool to think a 25 would suffice for the entire ride and I had brought the 28 just in case something happened.

The mistakes didn’t stop though… In planning for the race my focus was on the last climb of the race, Cedar Breaks. I discounted all other climbs as diminutive to the 10.5k elevation and 30 miles of uphill before the descent into Cedar City. I had planned on being at the top of Cedar Breaks by 6am, but there was a huge climb I had just started out of Boulder I had simply not taken seriously.

Night settled in Boulder and I began the ascent a little after 8pm to the top of the 9,500’ summit. All I could muster was a good rhythm of around 10-12mph. The ramps were not what I had researched on mapmyride.com – the inclines staring back at me were easily 8%. The free range cows mooed at my ill prepared ride up their domain, and a certain wind was starting to pick up again. I finally made it over the top after a couple hours and I was convinced I wouldn’t see Holt again, but I passed him over the crest of the summit. Gilles came over the radio to say he asked his crew "Is that him?", which gave my legs new fire to bomb the mountain. The race is (back) on! I bunnyhopped many cattleguards at 40mph in the dead of night down the mountain, the “Icy Roads” signs be damned. The moon seemed to reflect my desire to leave Holt behind as it burned a solemn smoky orange far across the mountainous horizon, an early harbinger of the coming harvest moon. We were so high in the mountains that the moonrise was below us, further complicating my comprehension of spatial reality. The excitement of passing Holt continued to build as it felt the race was close after over 250 miles past us.

My pace slowed after the descent and my crew was concerned we missed a turn out of Torrey, noting a 3 mile discrepancy on the cue sheet. They raced ahead to see what was down the road and in the distance behind me I could hear what could only be the competitive follow vehicle that has harassed my getaway for so many hours. Holt was only a couple minutes off my tail and I sat idly awaiting my crew’s return. I was feeling quite regal though and enjoying my chocolate coffee beans as the night was otherwise quiet. Peace and quiet. It was nice to have nothing to do. My apathy continued to grow, Holt and I could trade places all night and day for all I cared, if I were to lose out to this man he obviously worked hard to achieve it.

My crew returned with news that our turn was just ahead, we rambled on and we stopped at the turn for a human chassis lube and map consultation. The stop allowed enough time for Holt to jet by on a TT bike I saw he had mounted as I passed him on top of the Boulder pass. He had a full face mask on and heavy winter gear covering his body – I still did not know who he was other than by name.

Oh well – ramble on. I’ll see him again I’m sure.

My legs were still feeling the prior diminutive mountain peaks which speared my knees with their rocky poison so I let the pace subside to a soft spin through the clean and brisk air to Loa. I could not see the Holt crew ahead despite the characterless landscape of softly undulating grass and sage. The voyager’s earlier warning in Bryce turned reality, I would not see Holt again due to his relentlessness. The relay team Red Rock passed me just before making it to Loa, they had started 4 hours later than the solos. I could no longer do the math to figure out what their rate of speed was, nor did I care to guess. I generally don’t like getting passed even if it’s irrelevant, I had to put the competitive urge aside. My mood wasn’t down, I was just growing numb.

Entering Loa was nothing short of a limbo between what was then and what I still had to do. My mental breakup of the race into four 120 mile parts was long gone. I didn’t know how far I had gone, I refused to look at what time it was. It was irrelevant, it was dark, and I was between point A and B. B was where I wanted to… be. I was just there, nothing started anew, and if there was anything new I knew about, it was a very queasy feeling in my stomach beginning to isolate my different organs. I could play the childhood game Operation to remind myself of their exact location. Small bits of plastic floating in an oversized body. I pondered if I should physically clear out the sensation in my bowels but I elected to push on to the next round. I wasn’t concerned of 3rd place, they were at least an hour and a half behind. It was getting colder… I estimated the 50s since the gloves weren’t doing their job. It had been a long time since I rode in the night, usually activity reserved for winter riding to work and back. I forgot there is no sun to warm me in the night despite the temperature. Oops.

To Time Station 5 – Panguitch 374 miles in
Now I was on familiar territory after driving the course from Loa to Cedar City. The climb out of Loa was a no-surprise-you-can-see-it-all-in-front-you-climb-to-put-your-mind-at-ease climb. The passing relay teams chasing Red Rock improved the visibility of the climb although the little blinking lights didn’t seem to suffer like my dimming legs did. They were steady up the hill while I suffered silently inside and out. I was careful to keep extra batteries for my lights but it did nothing to give a fresh jolt for my legs. Back in Escalante I had jokingly asked if EPO was available in the voyager bathrooms, I wished I had something to awaken my numbing body. The staff in Escalante had replied they had IPA available but I couldn’t have any – I really could have used a beer then. And a place to sit. Be careful what I wish for…

I made it to my original stop earlier in the week where I got out to ride a little before the descent into Koosharem. My stomach pains manifested a fully fledged gastrointestinal knot needing immediate full attention. I grabbed the toilet paper and ran out into the sagebrush… My body was at least tolerant of pulling off all the wiring I had attached to myself for radio communication and music. I felt embarrassed, sheepish, but more or less resigned to 2nd place at the time. I wouldn’t see Holt again. More relay teams passed as I sat on my deadwood throne. I returned to the calls of my crew who were concerned I was taken by the local residents of the pungent sage brush. I got on the bike and made a few strokes before my bowels filled again with urgency… I pressed on despite the physiological pressure. No more sitting…

Over the familiar darkened hills I pedaled and down off the ridge to the Brown Lane turn to Koosharem. The turn left in Koosharem to Panguitch came as quickly as the wind in the face which came stronger than days earlier. The turn was definitely something missable in the night had I not seen it in the day. 15-20mph winds slowed my pace to around 8mph, slower than my jogging pace in my college years. I could feel the temperature drop below the 50s as the arm and knee warmers could not ward off the cold. I couldn’t pedal enough to stay warm and my body couldn’t generate enough heat after pedaling over 18 hours. My crew and I assessed our inadequate equipment and after a few stops I had put on knee and leg warmers, arm warmers, the 3 season gloves, a second jersey, the race rules on 5 print pages, and the rain jacket. It wasn’t enough, but it was nearly all I had. I was considering putting on a second pair of gloves and adding paper towels where necessary.

I consider the inadequate equipment another rookie mistake because I did not account for the cold weather in addition to my body’s inability to generate enough heat.

To make matters worse, my physiological pressure mounted to a volcanic event a few miles before the turn to state road 62 and I again ran off into the sagebrush, leaving my bike to fend for itself against gravity. More relay teams passed by as I sat idling amongst the brush, I was grateful for the night’s dark embrace of my degrading physical abilities. After another 20 minute session of “Am I done yet” I picked up my gravity defeated bike and pushed on to Panguitch.
Eventually I made it to US-89 where the wind grew stronger and the grades were steeper. My other self pedaled up the hill in a rattling and careless rage, I had sneaked a peek at the time… 3am and nowhere near my 6am plan to be at the top of Cedar Breaks. My plans were undone, I was coming undone, yet I had beat my knees into glue. My anger had no direction, it just radiated out. My crew tried to hand me water and I retorted with “I don’t need that sh!*!” without finishing the thought that I only needed the wind to stop blowing and the hills to flatten out. My crew left me alone to simmer.

I was 10 miles out of Panguitch before daybreak and I could finally see the time without artificial effort – I had ridden for 24 hours, another milestone, yet a mental break occurred when I could finally feel my eyes grow thick, my swollen face pinched my eyelids. I could feel the bowels bloat again and I was nervous to make a daylight pitstop on the side of the road.
However, I just needed to stop pedaling for a bit and sit in a car. My rage up the grades was spent and it was time to stop.

Among all the cursing directed at anything generally related to my situation and why anyone would want to attempt such a stupid activity I managed about 30 minutes of eyes closed before my wife jostled me from some worthless dream. It was something about running around a grassy field which I was in no condition to do. The jostle was perfect timing otherwise I would have been asleep. I’ll take a bit of good fortune any day! At the time though I could have just chewed the dashboard for adequate entertainment. It was the best 30 minutes of rest I had though, I felt I had restarted my day.

Back on the bike was tough – I took off the rain jacket but it left me sweat wet and cold. I shook and trembled in the wind like a loose spinnaker sail. My crew yelled for me to get off the road but I made more shouts and curses about needing to warm up and took off down the road… at 10mph into the wind. I forced the straightest line to Panguitch I could muster, cursing at the pavement I rode upon. The miles were getting longer, but there was only one climb left before the finish… again, the perpetuating rookie mistake thinking it was all downhill after Cedar Breaks, only 90 miles I thought!!!

The Panguitch time station showed a 2.5 hours gap between Holt and I, the difference I expect was my artistic sagebrush paintwork and demoralizing respite.

To Time Station 6 – Cedar City 433 miles in

I began the Cedar Breaks ascent with the knowledge that 3rd place was only 6 minutes behind me. 30mph winds down the mountain greeted me with a 9%+ ramp. I had never mustered a 3mph pace up a mountain before, but it was all I had. Only icing the roads could have made the situation worse. The sun was cold, the wind was cold, nothing around me resembled comfort. The dry grass scratched at the pavement beneath the surrounding white noise of rustling tree branches. My eyes burned, my pinkie and ring fingers were numb, my entire undercarriage had lost feeling back in Loa, and my traps were thawing out and thus screaming in agony. My will withered with the wind. Creaking cranks groaned on my incessant chain pulling, the cartoonish slow drag up the mountain resembled the looney toons coyote pushing his acme anvil up an incline in the hopes for a warm roadrunner dinner. This hill wouldn’t die.

The Cedar Breaks climb is ridiculous. Absurd. I drove it at night only a few days before, and I must have forgotten just about everything I passed. I remarked more about the igneous flows on each side of the road than the endless ramps stacked on top of each other like a dominoes beanstalk. Panguitch Lake came ever so slowly after the brutal welcome ramps at the foot of the mountain but apparently I could have just used an elevator from the lake. The crew felt my pain as each turn presented yet another mind numbing ascent to nowhere. The childhood song verse “over the river and through the woods” reverberated through my mind and I begged my crew to just give me the top of the mountain. No water or food for me, my stomach had enough of the essentials. Only the taste of mountaintops would satisfy me.

I made the turn south along the ridge of Cedar Breaks and cursed the additional 8 miles to my eventual descent into Cedar City. All I could think about was getting off the mountain, I had spent too much time on the mountain. 5 hours I think. I managed the 8 more miles bumbling up and down, cursing as I went. Daybreak had not come to my darkened mood yet. In fact, as I made the right obtuse turn up and over to the descent into Cedar Breaks I was blown off the road by the wind. I was in tears. I was in pain. My lips were peeling back from my teeth from a soulful sob, I drowned in my self pity. But, quickly realizing how stupid and fruitless my self inflicted situation was I slogged uphill to my awaiting crew to prepare for the descent.
I have never had such a dangerous descent as the one made off of Cedar Breaks. I’ve dropped out of the sky at 60mph and fishtailed through many a hairpin turn but this descent was different. The winds gave no warning as to their direction and I rode left of center lane to account for their unpredictable throws as I was blown around like a piece of paper dropped from a building. The wind kicked up sand into my eyes and threatened the intended direction of my wheels. I managed the speed limit most of the time but it lacked consistency just enough to irritate traffic, cars peeled by the double lines spewing exhaust and general cycling hating phrases as they passed. It was ugly, and I wouldn’t want to do it again. Cedar City didn’t come fast enough, and seeing the same cars that passed me at the bottom of the hill only exacerbated the problem.

To Time Station 7 – Snow Canyon 503 miles in
Home free right? I spent a long time on the road out of Cedar City to St. George. I’m not sure how to describe 30 mph wind directly across the port side of the bike, if there is such a nautical term applicable to cycling. But keeping with the theme, think of the bike as a sailboat with only two very small points of rubber anchoring it into the pavement. On an even keel it can travel quickly, but this top heavy vessel suffers greatly when 150 pounds are blown at 30mph off center. After 30 hours of riding, it was only 8mph of progress for me on a relatively flat road. For entertainment purposes I would stop on a trackstand and release the brakes attempting to go backwards on the course, a flagrant violation of the “circling” race policy.

Utah was not done with the hills though, it unleashed another unexpected 5 mile climb representing only a blip on the topo map on the internet. Mole hills were mountains in Utah, and there were a lot of mole hills.

The ride into Enterprise off the mole hill was fast and the last of the relay teams caught up with me. A voyager had passed, and finally 3rd place had caught up with me and passed through the wind and by me with ease. I would not chase, I was defeated. A podium finish was fine by me. Just finish. Goal #4.

Many times along the way from Cedar City I would think quitting was the best option, especially when I realized out of town I would spend more time in the night. A Cedar City revised 6pm finish in St. George was dashed by the winds by the time I reached Enterprise. Finishing in the dark was not what I had planned for when I took the lights off my bike in the morning back in Panguitch. Plans of inaction started to form. I had thought it reasonable to stop my race, go to Outback before it closed and get something warm to eat, enjoy time with my crew, then resume the race where I stopped. I had enough time, 48 hours was all I needed. I also thought that quitting 10 miles from the finish as a protest of the terrible descent I experienced was an acceptable rationalization. I told myself it didn't matter if I quit because I would never do this again anyways, so who cares. Results didn't matter, at least I tried. My mind tried every angle to rationalize an early closure to the ordeal. I discussed my lack of will to the passing voyager and his response was, "Don't quit, I did last year and I regretted it." I screamed I didn't care, but his response was enough to start the change in attitude. No pain was great enough to justify regret. I haven't lost a limb though... which I would probably regret that pain if I contributed to it...

I tried reasoning with the wind, groveling, begging, then grew angry again, and repeated. Then I reached Enterprise, a reasonable waypoint to a near finish. I could finally say I would not quit the effort and complete what I came for.

My vision of having a nice dinner among friends and warm toasts to a strong finish against all odds dimmed with the setting sun, now we had to settle with what stayed open late or supplied an adequate to go menu. No pleasant vision in my mind involved Styrofoam and plastic cutlery. I wanted nothing resembling the cooked, frozen, thawed, convection oven blown meat attached to my bones. Just comfort food. And 800mg of ibuprofen.

I relented, mainly because the thought of quitting no matter what the reason after making the trip out and not finishing what I started, was even more stupid than the actual act of pedaling over 500 miles in a single concerted effort. Additionally, quitting after all the efforts my crew had put in to my success was reproachable.

So despite bitching about all the “damn heels” my country-fried legs crawled over the last few hills and I made it to the Snow Canyon turn just at dusk. I might say I was in a good mood, especially after successfully planning for a warm dinner. It was almost over.

To the Finish Line - 500 and some I don't care how many miles I just did in
I didn’t think things could get worse, as it technically was all downhill from the top of Snow Canyon. But the laws of our common man Murphy were strong and my defiant descent into the canyon released a new reality on my mind. I was terribly cold again in the dark, and alone. Some cyclists passed by with their cold headlights piercing the enveloping night. They were ghosts, I could not hear what they said as I passed. I could no longer sit on the saddle much less comfortably pedal. I massaged my hamstrings on the saddle and rolled down the canyon. My sightlines grew fuzzy and my periphery wavered under the blue hues of the night sky. I saw snakes lean into the road to bite at my feet, cougars lazily reached out for my wheels, and then a stegosaurus… huh?

A brontosaurus joined in the fray and then some chickens. A Snow Canyon exotic petting zoo erupted from the inanimate brush and reached out to steal my descent into town. I rode down the center line to the canyon’s exit. The urbanization of St. George introduced what I perceived as homeless people climbing over walls out of the amber city lights. I became more disoriented but very thankful I prerode the route from Snow Canyon. I could not see any of the markings the race organizers put out for our direction. I was unsure I was going in the right direction, I was unfamiliar with the lay of the land. I remembered I had to circle the airport which blinked lazily to my left. I continued on course and came to the final traffic entanglement to the finish. I would not run the light that refused to trip at my presence. I walked the crosswalk to cross the road and then rode to the finish line. I had imagined earlier in the day I would elect to drag my bike across the finish line as a humorous end to my ordeal, but I was too much in the moment of forward motion to consider alternative transportation modes. I rolled in to the embrace of my wife and congratulations to people I had met briefly before but considered warm friends. It took me an hour to move the final 14 miles downhill. I’m not sure I could have gone further.

They say you’re supposed to leave everything you have on the course for a time trial. Conserve a little energy and you didn’t put in enough, do too much and you’ll blow up. I was completely spent at the finish line. I had nothing left to give.

It was over, and I was the third to finish that year. I would later learn only 5 finished. I learned a lot of things about the race strategy along the way as pieces of wisdom were passed along from the various support crews through my wife and friend. I learned I was just as discounted to finish from the veterans of the road as I had discounted the many mountains aside from Cedar Breaks. I was the unlikely rookie.

What separates the folks who finish and those who don’t? Like most sports if not all, it’s a healthy respect for the task at hand. Disrespecting the Hoodoo’s hills with a 25 gear almost cost me my finish as well as many other mistakes, I hope a similar mistake doesn’t happen to you. Apply the ego against 500 miles and there’s many an opportunity for the miles to respond in prejudice.

I'll read this post again in a year and remark how many other mistakes I had made with another year of experience behind me just as I did with my cross country tour.

Results:
I had many firsts, my first 24 hour ride without stopping, my first double century, my first double double, and first finish on an ultra distance race. Initially I was not satisfied with 3rd place but as time (a week) has passed I’ve mellowed my countenance and again have great admiration for those who can accomplish (and more so regularly) these types of races. When I was in the postrace banquet (a must) the next day I recall looking at each of the participants and thinking I was company among the toughest of men and women. It was a privilege to share a table with so few who would endeavor a course such as Hoodoo. Their clothing hinted of past adventures in RAAM, Furnace Creek, and other distances farther than I wanted to travel.
I’m glad to have been a part of the race.

I consumed 22 water bottles (5gal) of fluids (includes 7 servings of perpetuem), 4 clif bars, 2 bananas, 2 sandwich bags of banana chips, 1 bag of grapes, 1 bag of carros, 4 granola bars, 1 pb&j, 4 fig newton things, 1 bag of coffee beans.

Postrace:
The race awards uncovered my gross limp when I waddled up to the front of the room for pictures. You’ll see the solo finishers picture of me in the center with my weight on one leg since the other was burning and cramping at the same time. The feeling of finish was still fresh though with the smile that pulled it from ear to ear. My quads occasionally failed to support my weight, the Operation game had moved to version 2 to my muscles instead of my thoracic organs. I was depleted, although I had no scale with me the shape of my body was something I had never seen before. My small size shirts were loose. My wife and I went back to the hotel and ordered another day in St. George to simmer under ice bags and to degas, driving in my condition would have been a bad idea. No one else was really limping of any sort, so I imagine they all know something about ultradistance that I don’t.

The drive home was indirect with a stop in Denver for a couple days to celebrate an accepted offer for a friend’s home and then an unplanned cross country wine tour starting in Nebraska and along the various wine trails all the way back to North Carolina. The Element carried all 3 bikes, 6 cases of wine, 2 bodies, a cooler, and all cargo inside. Consider it your next vehicle.

The legs still burn a little but I’ve been off the bike for a solid week now. I’ve never had the muscles report like they have in these past few days. The skin and scabs on the bum continues to peel off. The numbness in the undercarriage is now a soft pain. The knees don’t hurt anymore and the wine tours seem to have helped. No particular vintage helped more than others, but generous helpings do taste and respond better.

In sum, here’s what I have from my experience.

Mistakes (or could have done it differently):

TT clip on bars on the road bike is a must – a TT bike with a wide side profile like my Look wouldn’t do well in this type of wind. This equipment alone probably was the difference between my 2nd and 3rd place. Dave Elsberry, 2nd place solo, made the comment several times I would have done better in the wind.

Have 3 or more crew – my mind went at around 12 hours into the race. Other crews had asked where my 3rd person was and were surprised to see only 2 people. We needed more people to keep us organized after the honeymoon period of 12 hours.

Cold weather gear- I should have read between the lines with weather reports, 45 degrees with 15 – 30 mph wind would be very cold. My slow speeds debilitated my body and could not produce adequate warmth. This mistake cost me a lot of time in the night.

No caffeine products – and no more diarrhea. I thought I would need caffeine to get through the night. I don’t think it was necessary and it just upset my stomach when eating coffee beans and caffeine laced clif bars. It may be different for other people.

I was too focused on Cedar Breaks when there was the Boulder climb to also worry about. But, preriding a 500 miles course was impractical. I would recommend doing the Hoodoo training ride in June prior to the race. I might do it next year for fun anyways.

Thoughts:
Many ask if I would do it again, my response is “Relay”. But retrying the race with the knowledge I have now is very tempting. My wife and Gilles thought two weeks would be enough to forget the negative part of my ordeal...

Thanks again to the Hoodoo race staff for their untold efforts of putting on such an uncomfortable race in a very comfortable world. The Hoodoo 500 is a race for titans, my human strength barely made it through.

Day 22 Harriman, TN to Asheville, NC 155.1 miles

2009-07-05T11:02:00.001-07:00

It was another beautiful day to behold as I worked my way through TVA and Knoxville area, and the French Broad River basin. By now I’m just grinning from ear to ear knowing I’ll be in NC by nightfall with my wife and within a day’s ride to home. I chuckled often to myself because I really had no concept of how far 150 miles was. When I saw while mapping out my route for the final day that Asheville was only 120 miles from Davidson I realized I had been putting some good distance down each day. Asheville, once a faraway distant and unreachable place by bicycle a few months earlier was now considered a short day for me. That’s a different perspective.
I stopped to take a picture of the TVA area and a motorist stopped to talk about my miles and to express his own desire to go cross country but unfortunately couldn’t afford the time. Life will get away from you if you let it.
I thought it had been a while since I took a headshot so I did my worst while pedaling up one of the mountains. My hair is getting wily. The Appalachians are quite beautiful and left me thinking why I hadn’t spent more time riding through the area. I plan to fix the problem soon. The roads through the mountains (US-25/US-70) are gorgeous and the weather was perfect, I slowed my pace a bit to enjoy the afternoon. The road into Asheville however was treacherous, jarring, and becoming an interstate. I’m not real sure why rumble strips are required to run all the down exit ramps but it wasn’t fun to negotiate the strips while dodging traffic on broken up shoulders. I made it in one piece though with the help of some drivers who allowed me to cross lanes in order to get into Asheville. I believe Merrimon Ave should be used coming from the north.
I arrived in Asheville around 6 and was more than excited to have dinner with Stephanie at the Laughing Seed. Unfortunately it is closed on Tuesdays. We did the next best thing and had dinner at the brewery below. We enjoyed the corn chowder especially. We’ll have to make a return visit for the Laughing Seed soon. We stayed at the Renaissance which was quite different from the one in Charlotte in terms of fancy. I probably stunk up the place being on the road for so long. I still have a hard time believing Asheville is only around 120 miles to Davidson.

Day 22 Clarksville TN, to Harriman, TN 191.2 miles

2009-07-05T10:30:00.001-07:00

Wow, what a day. Knowing I had a long day ahead of me, I made sure I wore my haulin’ ass socks to keep me going. This day is the kind of day cyclists dream of and hope every day will be. What makes this day even far more exceptional is I had 13 hours of the best ride. After 5 weeks of riding I finally felt like there was no hill big enough to tire my legs, I felt like I was in shape at last. Every cyclist knows the feeling, sometime in the middle of the summer each year the legs become strong and impenetrable. These Rockies seasoned legs finally got the feeling. There were a couple climbs today, one 5 mile climb had a local ask me if I’d like a ride to the top. He was surprised to hear I came from Seattle. Each of the climbs were flattened by my gears, I cruised up and down the hills with ease.
I made it to Crossville and caught a flat from a heavy staple. Fortunately I was forced to stop in front of the fire chief Mike Turner’s house where his daughter called him and he was there in 30 seconds to help. A fellow cyclist, we shared stories of adventures and he also told me about how he was riding along on the same road and some kids had shot him in the back with a pellet gun. I am glad I still don’t have any stories like that to share. Big thanks to Mike and his daughter for their help with the flat.
Also along the way I saw the typical bicycle route sign but this one had another sign below it indicating a campground 3 miles ahead. I think this is a perfect way to give cyclists a heads up on what’s ahead by posting signs with the bike route sign. The advertising funding similar to what we see near interstate exits could help pay for the proper signage for cyclists finding their way around the state.
I had high hopes I would make it to Knoxville or Maryville by the end of the day but Harriman was the furthest the light would take me. I decided I wouldn’t do anymore night riding in the interest of preserving my life for natural causes of death. I’m sure the life insurance company also appreciated my consideration too.
I went to a Mexican restaurant this evening, they brought out three plates of food which I didn’t intend to eat so much but I did anyways. The expediter was a little confused who he should deliver 3 plates of food since it was just me and one other person in the restaurant. I had 3 tamales, a plate of rice and beans, a burrito, a basket of chips, and 32 oz of beer for around $15. Not bad at all. Other calories included a bowl of cheerios, 2 muffins, a banana, 1.75 gallons of Gatorade, and 1 M&M pack.
Tomorrow I will meet my wife in Asheville 155 miles away over the Appalachians. I expect it to be a tough day since it should be all uphill. My wife and I love the restaurant Laughing Seed so we’re looking forward to a good dinner tomorrow!

Day 21 Cape Girardeau, MO to Clarksville, TN 164.7 miles

2009-07-05T09:44:00.001-07:00

Hampton Inn had a great breakfast, I had 2 danishes, a bowl of cheerios, a giant blueberry muffin, a yogurt, and washed it down with a couple glasses of orange juice. I had the spread out before me at the table and felt like eyes were on me judging how much I was consuming. I was in the 24 Hours of Booty kit so I was a sight regardless.
I was on the road by 7:30 confident I would make some good miles since a cold front had pushed through overnight and the high today would be 90. The winds are picking up in my favor according to the weather channel, but we’ll see if they’re right.
As the trees became a part of the landscape I was more aware of being in the south. There were no more casinos and gambling halls. Churches replaced liquor stores on the street corners. Kudzu was rampant. In Missouri there were oak trees everywhere, I began to recognize the foliage. Aspen trees, to me, are exotic. I entered Illinois with much internal fanfare after crossing the Mississippi. I was officially in the east and the wind started to pick up in my favor as predicted. Illinois had beautiful roads and good asphalt. There wasn’t a lot of people around as I thought there would be, the land was kind of swampy from the river. I rode into Cairo to a shocking scene. It was as though the town stopped its clock in 1950. There were blocks and blocks of buildings with “Speakeasy” signs and other notes of an earlier time. There were no gas stations, no chain restaurants, only rundown buildings, homes, and broken windows. The city’s residents were destroying their own town. I later looked up the town on Wikipedia and it confirmed my thoughts, it was a town built for 20,000 but only had 3,000 people living in it. The remaining residents looked like zombies milling around town, it was a sad sight to see. If Hollywood wanted to do a post apocalyptic movie this town would fit the bill. I did not take any pictures, no one frame would do the town any justice. Apparently there are many towns along the Mississippi where dependency on the river trade made them obsolete after the 40s and 50s. There is a lot of heritage in the towns and I think I would like to tour the old river road someday in the future before it is gone. I left Cairo over the Ohio River and into Kentucky with some trepidation as I hear the locals are less than friendly with cyclists as well as their dogs.
I had nothing to fear in Kentucky, it was a nice leisurely ride in the 80s with the wind at my back. The motorists gave me plenty of room on my way through Mayfield and Murray. An odd feature of Kentucky roads was the rumble strips which seemed to be an afterthought of state legislation to mandate rumble strips on all state roads. The rumble strips looked like they were formed by a tractor rolling a tank tread over the outer edge of the road where most of the strip was about 3 to 6 inches wide. I’d be in the ditch before I would wake up from those road strips. These road features just meant I had to ride to the left of the white line which I wasn’t excited about. KY-121 was a great road though with good asphalt, I entered Tennessee welcomed by a confederate flag at the border, I consider it the unofficial entrance to the south.
I was happy to be in Tennessee, it was adjacent to North Carolina and would be a reasonable drive for my wife should she have to come pick me up for some reason. I was in Clarksville by 7:30 but I thought it was 8:30 because of eastern time. I was wrong though, and I would never find out where the change in time was. I stayed at a sad Quality Inn that was a former Holiday Inn setup with the indoor pool and gaming area surrounded by the guest rooms. It was a large compound for so few guests. I think 4 rooms were occupied that evening. The pushboard letter sign noted Quality Inn but the years of dust still hinted the welcome to Holiday Inn. It appeared the enclosed bar overlooking the pool was now a storage area. Everything looked tired like me. My dinner options were Hooters or Shoney’s. I walked over to Shoney’s to friendly service, lasagna, a nacho appetizer mess, sweet tea, and a sundae. All for $15. Nicely done. I normally don’t drink caffeinated drinks at night but going to sleep was easy these days and the novelty of ordering “tea” without attaching “sweet” in front of it to get sweet tea attracted me to order it. That’s the 2nd sign you’re in the south, no tea comes without a pound of sugar in it.
The weather channel indicated westerly winds at 10-20mph for the day tomorrow so I have high hopes of doing another 200 mile day like the one out of Colorado. I was planning a rest day in Nashville because I am extremely tired after the past week but I can’t pass up good tailwinds and a mid 80s day. It’s a gift I won’t turn away. We’ll see what happens.
Calories were the Hampton breakfast, Shoney’s dinner, 2 gallons of Gatorade, 1 M&M pack, and it was nice to ride a dry bike with dry handlebars without all the heat.

Day 20 Saint James, MO to Cape Girardeau, MO 152.6 miles

2009-07-05T08:20:00.000-07:00

I was on the road by 6am to escape the crazy motel room with the living TV. After that experience I used my USACycling license benefits to get 10% off a hotel reservation at the Hampton Inn in Cape Girardeau. I was committed to getting there by then end of the day.
My bike did not dry off from the prior day, it was extremely humid. I greeted a beautiful morning and rode for hours through the calm country. I would occasionally get a jolt of reality when a dog would chase me. I learned shepherds were the fastest dogs and I would have to get over 25 mph to outrun them. Pitbulls, while particularly aggressive looking, would receive my taunting because they could barely run 15 mph. I had at first lodged my bike pump through the front of my bibs in case I was caught on a hill but later found I could just put the pump under the bungee cords for a quick samurai slap across the ridge of the dog’s nose. I would prefer to outrun the dog though since I would likely have to outrun an angry dog owner in a truck if they saw a man in tights knock his dog out with a stick. My approach to dogs is to make sure I don’t allow them to flank my front wheel so even if I end up turning in the other direction the dog won’t get across my front wheel.
There hasn’t been any wind in the past couple days, and it would be the same today. Temperatures would be just as extreme as the other days… I would be dependent on my own devices without the help of a tailwind and I would have to fight the heat yet again, hopefully there would be no mechanical failures today.
The trip proved to be a fast one, US-67 had a wide open shoulder on great asphalt and MO-72 is getting a facelift with fresh asphalt. While extremely hot, my overall average today was 16.5 mph. MO-72 would have been a treacherous route, the unmaintained pocked bridges between the fresh asphalt hinted at how my ride would have been.
I stopped at a gas station in Farmington where a cub scout group was offering car washes. Some street bikers were surprised to see me there, saying they had passed me back at Park Hills about 10 miles away. I had cruised through at about 23 mph on US-67 so I had made good time to the MO-72 turnoff. A scout had stopped to ask me about my bike and what I was doing. I explained I had nearly 3,000 miles behind me from Seattle and I was headed home to Charlotte. It took a moment to process in the child’s head and he began scratching it to speed up the process. After a bit more time he summarized his confusion to, “Do you have a car?” I said yes, in fact I have two. This perplexed him more, he wanted to discuss the mode of transportation more but his mother called from around the building to attend to his carwashing duties.
I think part of the difficulty of cycling as a sport and transportation in the US is adults see transportation as an evolution. First, you learn to walk, then you learn to ride a bicycle, and then you learn to drive. You don’t go backwards in this evolution. Once you have achieved driving Shangri-La, you must park as close as possible to any door you wish to pass such as the Walmart parking lot. The requirement for close parking proximity means you will have to wait a few minutes for someone to pack their car and leave. Anything to prevent you from additional primitive walking from a further parking space. Some brazen transportationists think fire lanes and handicap parking also help minimize the walking one would have to do. I applaud their ingenuity, may their blood pressure always be the highest in the land.
I skipped lunch today, and I think I will continue to do so since my knees feel better just trudging through the day with minimal breaks. At 40 miles left in the day I felt alive, the Mississippi River was one of the few mental barriers left to cross before I would be home. As I was riding I started to notice the large swaths of trees knocked over, at first I thought it was logging but a lot of the trees were snapped halfway up the trunk. I figured a tornado had carved out some destruction along the road. It went for miles, and I saw some unfortunate birdhouses that were twisted up in the wake of the tornado too.

I was also a couple hours ahead of schedule because of making a good average for the day. I arrived at Cyclewerx at 4:30, and was delighted to see such a good group of people working in a relaxed shop. They trued the wheel and fixed me up with some supplies. I decided to buy a floor pump since I was tired of fighting for 90 psi. I felt the extra weight would be worth getting 110 psi every day. The shop owner went the extra mile and searched in his inventory to try to find a smaller pump. He also offered a smaller portion of chamois butt’r when he didn’t have the singles. He also pulled up a map and suggested I take a different route which would take me on a ferry ride across the Mississippi. Perhaps another time. I talked with one of the employees about the racing scene in Missouri as well as the state tour. There seems to be an active cycling community in the state and I think the community as a whole is very gracious to folks pedaling on the road. They have a good thing going! Thanks to the Cyclewerx shop – visit them if you’re in town.
I was at the hotel by 6 and was reluctant to go to the Outback, it was the only thing nearby. There's nothing wrong with the food, I just don't agree with the concept. Heath at the Hampton was helpful and told me to go to the Drury Inn next door for laundry. I found a sullen female sitting on a luggage cart guarding the laundry door at the Drury. She introduced herself by saying she was handicapped. I offered my help if I could. She said she was fine. I tried to see if the washer was full but couldn’t get around her, she said it was taken. I said I would wait until she was finished with her laundry as I pulled out my laptop and commenced to work on the floor. She said she was going to be a while, I replied all I had was time and didn’t have a lot of choice in the laundry matter. After 10 minutes she mumbled something, stood up, walked into the laundry room and pulled out her clothes in the washer and put them in the dryer. She walked out of the room and as she passed she said the washer was open. I never saw her again. I stepped over the luggage cart and got started on the laundry. I thought it a little strange.
Calories today weren’t much as compared to other days. 2.5 gallons of Gatorade, a clif bar, 2 packs of M&Ms (my rolling lunch it seems), a 9oz tenderloin steak with scallops, crab stuffed shrimp app, stuffed potato, 2 loaves of bread, salad, and key lime pie.
Tomorrow I plan to head deep into Tennessee through Illinois and Kentucky. Not sure which town yet but probably Clarksville at 160 miles.

Day 19 Warsaw, MO to Saint James, MO 136.1 miles

2009-07-05T06:42:00.000-07:00

The Ozarks are an amazing feature of Missouri, it feels like I ride along a ridge in the mountains with views over undulating treetops as far as the eye can see. I haven’t seen so many trees in weeks. In prior states like Montana, one could see more than 20 miles away to know when I would arrive at an approaching town. In Missouri, I would have to spot the town water tower, but sometimes it would not appear until the last 3 miles of the ride.
My plan for the day is to get to Meramec Spring Park southeast of Saint James, about 150 miles. It shouldn’t be as hot as in the prior week and I’d like to spend some time out of the hotels.
Highway 7 east of Warsaw is a narrow winding road and I was particularly wary of the traffic but they were very gracious and gave me a wide avenue to ride. I arrived in Osage Beach surprised to see it is such a tourist attraction. I was unaware it was so popular, I should have put the pieces together when I saw most of the vehicles on 7 had more than one passenger. The lake is gorgeous and looks like it has 20 years to grow before getting overcrowded like my native Lake Norman. Old time stores selling crafts and ramshackle bars still adorn the roadsides and RV parks have lakeside access, something our Charlotte area lakes are losing. I stopped at a diner for a burger and shake and the owner and I talked about the area and my route. He was impressed with my daily miles and lamented he wanted to attempt the same feat but life would always get in the way of his desires. I like diners and will choose to stop at a diner over other venues typically because I find they have a unique menu. I unfortunately don’t understand the nostalgia since I am only 28, however I like the concept.
I was wrong about the heat, it was in the upper 90s again by midday, and another 2.5 gallons of Gatorade met its demise this day. I sweat profusely and it soaks my bike, I almost slipped off my bars one time causing the bike to jerk into traffic. Fortunately this time there weren’t any sideview mirrors to catch my error.
About 80 miles into the ride my typical difficulty in changing gears finally came full circle and I could no longer change gears at all. The rear derailleur was also stuck in the hardest gear. I wasn’t upset this time, I was still rolling and it was just another part of the ride. The mole hills in Missouri did become mountains though, and grinding over some of them forced me to the roadside to figure out what was wrong. I couldn’t see anything obvious on the back and decided to screw down the upper limits on the derailleur so I could at least get the gear a little easier to pedal. There was no cell service where I was west of Vienna and I could not find any shade either. I had to get somewhere to call in for remote mechanic service from the Spirited Cyclist! I finally made it to a gas station in Vienna and was grateful for the buy one get one free offer for 32 oz Frost Gatorade. I bought 6 of them.
I called the Spirited Cyclist for help, I was convinced my shifter was dead since it seemed the gearing had walked all the way off of the cassette. They were quick to correct my thinking when they suggested I check the tension on the cable. It was loose and I then checked the cable housing attached to the shifter, it fell off… Well, I was glad to have an extra cable but I felt the immediate need for a 2nd cable in case I screwed up installing the new one. Picture an accountant crowding a little piece of shade on the side of a gas station building, bent over his bike laid on its side baking in the midday sun. The asphalt was becoming wet with sweat dripping from the body, a futile attempt to cool off in the oppressive heat. I had observed Brian back in Denver attempting to adjust my gearing so I tried to mimic the same movements by running the cable through the shifter and down and out the back to the rear derailleur. It did not shift very well based on this approach after trying to adjust the gearing. I had made a stand on the rear pannier and by propping my tent under the front fork to make the adjustments easier. Another call to The Spirited Cyclist made me quickly realize the need to push the shifter on the outermost gear for the cassette. I could have broke my only cable if I had continued my previous path of installation. I had also discovered frayed head of the previous cable was lodged in the shifter and I fished it out with needle nose pliers. I was finally fixed up and ready to go. During this time a couple passersby offered their help. David Anderson was a local and told me about how the RAAM had just recently passed through the same road I was on which prompted him to stop and check on me. He was curious because he thought RAAM participants were supported (they are) and wondered why I was carrying so much gear. We shared a laugh about it and I told him about another motorist who profusely congratulating me for my “coast to coast” tour and how he heard about it on the radio. I guess some of the locals around here thought I was just another loser days behind on the RAAM course.
I had to make a decision between changing course to get to Rolla or continue to Saint James. Rolla had a bike shop but was further west than I wanted to go. I had no additional shifter cables and I was still a little concerned about getting my rear wheel trued. I decided to make for the Cape Girardeau shop at the Illinois border via Saint James.
I had a mental break on US-64 north of Vichy when I saw a rather long climb in front of me. I screamed and yelled at the pavement, there should be no climbs in Missouri. It was 3 miles of uphill with a scenic view at the top. I cursed the scenery and wanted to be home…
I made it to Saint James as the sun was starting to go down, I would not be able to camp this evening because I lost an hour due to the broken shift cable. I crossed I-44 and stopped at Finn’s motel. This motel would be the last time I would stay at a mom and pop place. I think the south has a different style as opposed to the places I have stayed in the West and Midwest. I had to argue with the lady to get a nonsmoking ground floor room, I think innkeepers don’t want to get double rooms to a single person. She pretended not to understand my English and was insistent I could just leave my bike outside next to the office while I stayed in a room upstairs. I told her I would stay elsewhere and suddenly my lucid language cleared the musty office air. My room was nothing special as expected, however I had to unplug the TV because it turned itself on, the toilet ran which I was able to fix, the toilet seat was broken, the lampshades had a peculiar bleached design splashed over the top of the shade, and all the appliances were run off a single extension cord. My neighbor was toothless and also had an RV she lived in parked in the lot. I could not understand her English and it seemed she talked in my general direction but it could have been for own amusement to have a conversation with herself.
I decided Pizza Hut would be dinner for the evening, a place where I have not been for more than 20 years and I did not know what to expect. When I was in elementary school in Lexington NC they ran a promotion if you read 100 books you would get a free personal pizza. I remember getting a few of those pizzas. Tonight would be a medium supreme pizza with root beer. Nice folks in Saint James, a host town for the Tour of Missouri which would start on Labor Day.
I noticed an additional tan line this evening, I was getting a tan through my jersey which stopped at the ridges of the bibs so it looks like I have a white Y down my back.
Tomorrow is 160 miles to the Illinois border where I’ll stop at Cyclewerx in Cape Girardeau for repairs. I have to get there before the 6pm close so I have to leave early.

Home safe

2009-07-02T05:46:00.001-07:00

Hey folks - wanted to let you know I arrived home yesterday safe and sound, Highway 73 is not the best road to ride during rush hour though! It usually takes me a couple hours to create and edit a post so I could not update as quickly as I would have liked these few days. The 100+ degree heat consumed my energy and there were a couple nights I would lay on the bed to stretch and go right to sleep. I will post the remaining days over the weekend.
Wishing everyone a happy and safe 4th with family and friends. If you're in the area, stop by the house, we'll pick you up dockside.
Just as a reminder, I created these posts as a reference for folks who are considering touring and wonder what it would take to complete their own journey. I used other blogs and journals as my own reference and I am now returning the favor. I encourage you to do the same and would like to hear about your adventures too.

Day 18 Lawrence, KS to Warsaw, MO 156.1 miles

2009-06-26T19:54:00.000-07:00

Each day this week I get up is hard, I feel very sluggish. I took a second shower and readied for the day. 2 danishes and a bowl of Cheerios were had at the Quality Inn. I was off headed south at 8am on US-59 over more of the famous Kansas hills, it was later than I had wanted to leave the hotel. I was hoping to get a long day in to up the average miles and get closer to home. The Kansas wind sensed I was headed south so I was met with headwinds again. When I turned east on US-56 the winds came from the east. I felt like Kansas is the Hotel California line where I can check out but never leave.
A previous comment from Phillipsburg piqued my interest about Kansas, I felt Kansas was holding out on me in terms of seeing some of the back country. Last year’s Ride the Rockies in Colorado went over Cottonwood Pass which half of it was gravel road. I was told the gravel was to keep traffic down and prevent Aspen-like commercial activity in Crested Butte. So, I took off down some gravel roads south of Lawrence to see what I could find, it appeared they were a shortcut to Gardner too so it was a bigger bonus. The countryside was incredible, and a single picture couldn’t frame the entire scene. I wasn’t excited to have to do some mudbogging through parts of the road with skinny tires but I made it through ok. When I made it back on asphalt I made a note to never take the blacktop for granted.
I passed signs for the various historical trails such as the Sante Fe and the Oregon. I would have stopped for the historical markers but the urge to get to the Missouri line was stronger. There were some closed roads near the border which upped the mileage but it gave me an opportunity to see the suburbs of Kansas City. It looks the same as Charlotte where they’ve converted farmland into the million dollar houses built 8 feet from each other. A little further out there were the graded plots of land with overgrown weeds indicating the waning real estate market had hit KC’s farmlands. I rode the same farm roads with no shoulder to the dismay of the locals. I got one wave today, it came at 11am. I gave up on the waving gig. I got buzzed on US-71 in Missouri, it was the closest and most needless of the entire trip. And it was a pickup truck. I’m not in Kansas anymore.
It didn’t seem as hot today as it was yesterday, so I didn’t utilize the ice cycling AC method. Maybe tomorrow, or maybe I’m just getting used to the heat. At 4:30 it was 98, I saw another sign saying 109 but I doubt it. It was in Tightwad, Missouri, which I felt a privilege to pass through on my way through the Ozarks.
Missouri’s animals need education on crossing roads, or Missouri’s drivers have much better accuracy with their tires than other drivers. There are turtle shells and raccoons everywhere. I saw my first armadillo, but it was roadkill too.
I did not stop for lunch, I did not want to jinx the tailwind that started five miles into Missouri. That’s right, the Kansas wind blew from the east until I got into Missouri. Kansas did not want me to leave. Missouri’s wind followed me as I wound through US-71 and MO-7.
US-71 and highway 7 are fantastic strips of pavement, and with a tailwind 22 mph was the norm. I think I overexerted myself though. I arrived in Warsaw with some knee pains on both sides, dizzy, and the back-of-the-head tingling thing. I felt a little wild and unbalanced. The rashes on my knees grew larger through the day, and the tops of my hands still swell by the end of the day. I drank another 2 gallons of Gatorade and will probably walk down to the gas station in a bit for more.
I had another first. I have never been to a Sonic restaurant because I don’t go through drive-throughs, something that grew out of getting the wrong orders repeatedly from various restaurants and trying to eat everything in the car so it wouldn’t get cold. Eating in my car seems silly when a restaurant should provide tables. I’ll provide a little background: by the end of the day I look like someone took a bat to me, microwaved me, and then shook me up real good like a cat. I look a little crazy with bloodshot eyes and hair all muffed from 4 weeks of unchecked growth. So I walk into the area where the Sonic people do their work because I don’t know what the process is to order. I ask one of the employees and she points to the sign menu boards outside and says, “you push the button and say what you want”. That process seems a little silly when everyone is inside and I could just wait for my order. So I go outside to the menu board and examine it, decide what I want, and push the picture of the cheeseburger. Nothing happens. I push a little harder. Nothing. There’s a little green digital screen to the lower left with some analog buttons and a card reader so I try that, it talks about a Sonic card. I don’t know what that is and it is all the green screen wants. I look at the menu board to see if there are directions. There are none. I kind of stare at the menu board just a little while and wonder if I should just go up the street to the Subway. I kind of wanted the burger though, and I made it this far with Sonic, I thought I’d see it through. I walk back into the Sonic command station.
There was a lot of bustling from the 4 or 5 employees, it seemed busy. It’s quite an operation, they have something attached to their wrist that they swipe across something on the wall and it prints out a receipt. They have metal change machines attached around their waste and it hangs across their groin area like a chastity belt. I could not figure out how it worked. I asked again how to order, and this time it was a different employee who gave me mercy and allowed me to order on the spot. I observed more of the operations and was particularly curious about the metal change machine. I became self conscious staring at the young woman’s change machine and decided to go back outside. The food soon followed. I called Stephanie to check in and the day’s heat was starting to catch up to me. It was then I realized I was getting close to the South, one fly came to inspect my food, then two, then a dozen. Seeing that they weren’t going to get any of the food they commenced biting me instead. I left quickly. It was $9 for the meal with a milkshake, seems like a lot for fast food. It was good though.
Someone had asked if the wind/heat affects the speed of my riding. The wind does more so than the heat. In Kansas with the wind against me, I was going 10-13 mph on the flats. In Missouri I was going 22-25 mph on the flats with the wind behind me. Multiply my ride day by 10 hours and I did 156 miles instead of 123 like yesterday. I was also putzing around in Kansas today checking out the backcountry so I expect I could have cleared another 20 miles if I wasn’t so curious about what Kansas was hiding!
Today’s calories were the breakfast, 2 packs of M&Ms (my craving during the day now – they have a peanut butter strawberry flavor now but I prefer the dark chocolate which is hard to find), Sonic’s double cheeseburger, tater tots, a coke, and a pineapple shake.
I’m looking forward to sitting and doing nothing. I thought I would have more opportunity to do that, I should have planned better!
I have a craving for salty beach air…

Day 17 –Clay Center, KS to Lawrence, KS 123.0 miles

2009-06-25T19:16:00.000-07:00

Watching Jon Stewart this evening is making me crave popcorn…
I did 123 miles today, the minimum required to make the 13 day journey home according to my route and Google. I was chased down by a tremendous storm and I was having such a great day I didn’t want to be a mile hog and get greedy. It’s a question my conscience answers for me during the latter part of the day, “Should I go? Am I getting greedy?” If the answer is yes, like trying to push to Manhattan yesterday, then I stop pedaling. If I’m feeling lucky like Google, I go for it. There has been very few times I’ve felt lucky, and in Wyoming it ended badly when I decided to go 150 miles without any way of repairing a flat tire. The innkeeper in Clay Center told me I was lucky to not attempt Manhattan because there was a rodeo/stampede going on and all the rooms would be booked. So it all works out again.
Supposedly there’s a 3% chance of getting hit from behind on a bicycle. I don’t use a rearview mirror because I don’t want to see death approach, and I expect some people might be encouraged to cut it close if they see I’m watching their driving skills. I met someone in Idaho who said he uses a rearview mirror so he can avoid a near hit. I would be preoccupied with everything behind me when I should be focused on what’s ahead of me. What really keeps drivers from killing cyclists when most deaths by vehicle aren’t pursued by the law? I ponder that during the day, especially on US-24 east of Topeka on a 70 mph stretch with a gravel soft shoulder. If I’m not too busy counting I’m usually thanking each of the passing drivers who let me live that day.
I headed out of town via Broughton Road, yet another beautiful stretch of Kansas unfolded before me with waving locals. I was curious to know when the locals would stop waving. It was Manhattan and Kansas State University. I was greeted by heckler #9 in a truck who wished I would not be on his road, from across the median. While I have counted the number of hecklers and buzzes since I started, I expect I may have missed a few due to the earbuds. All the better. So ends all the nice folks from the west/central Kansas area. Remember how everyone treated each other during the days following 9/11? That’s west/central Kansas all the time. Take a ride in one of the combines along the road, all you have to do is stop and ask.
In Manhattan there are trees everywhere, and the roads flattened out as I headed east. The corn stalks are at least 3 feet higher than their brothers in west Kansas. I assume it is due to the cold weather and rainfall differences. Everything in the fields are lush and green, the trees fill in the areas between the fields and along the knolls along the horizon. It reminds me of home. It’s something in the mind when I think “home” that sends a jolt of energy through the legs. I wore the jolts out pretty quickly.
I met a group of college students at a Subway/gas station from Baltimore who were on their way across the states in the name of cancer research, a perfect opportunity for me to tell them about 24 Hours of Booty and the Columbia MD event in September. I told them about the group 3 days ahead of them and I learned they were the “Illini” who copied the Baltimore students’ own cross country event and were also responsible for the student’s frequent denials for requests for food donations since they already gave food to the Illini. I have a feeling I’ll see some of them again.
By 10:30am it was 90 degrees. By 11:30 it was 93. I was miserable and wearing the skin off under my eyes from wiping them too much. I had to reapply the sunscreen several times because I wiped it off to clear the sweat from my eyes. I stopped a second time for the Gatorade fix, and I put one in my back jersey pocket. The cold against my spine was wonderful. An idea popped in my head and I would use it at the next Gator-fix. Along the way I stopped in the shade of a small town and a local asked where I came from. I couldn’t remember. I knew I started in Seattle and I was definitely still in Kansas. I was confused and a little concerned I couldn’t remember where I came from… We didn’t have a lively conversation… The patchiness of my skin was getting worse, and I noticed my hands were getting swollen.
By 1:30 it was 101. I stopped for the Gator-fix and this time bought a bag of ice. I dumped the ice into an empty Gatorade bottle and another water bottle. I put one in the back jersey pocket and one behind the zipper in the front of the jersey.
Pure joy.
I haven’t read this approach in other cyclist’s blogs and maybe everyone except me knew about it, but it’s more than psychological. I didn’t sweat as much and I actually felt good. The rest of the ride was easy. I discovered cycling AC.
As I type this out I notice my skin above my knees appears to form some kind of rash. I assume it is the heat. I don’t think there’s much I can do about it.
For folks wondering how my knees are holding up: I learned a little tidbit from the nurses at Ride the Rockies: 800 mg of Ibuprofen is an arthritis dose, so take 3 doses a day. I take just one in the morning and one at night and everything is great.
Life is good!
Today’s calories included 2.5 gallons of Gatorade, 2 bowls of Frosted flakes, a muffin, a bagel and cream cheese, a glass of orange juice, a foot long Subway meatball sub and a Coke to wash it down (in Kansas, where there’s a Pizza Hut there’s a Subway), 2 packs of M&Ms, 2 BBQ brisket and pork dinners with slaw and beans at a local BBQ hut in Lawrence with 3 Budweisers… I love watching Kansas storms. The one that rolled through this evening was orange, green, and blue along with the normal colors of a storm.
I’m staying at the Quality Inn for about $62. I’m washing my clothes and hanging out a bit since I made good time today. Reportedly there are coupons at the travel centers because another guest checked in for $40 when I was trying to get quarters from the front desk.
Tomorrow I’m headed deep into Missouri. I hope to end up in the Harry Truman State Park for some evening camping. The Baltimore students said Missouri was worse than Kansas in terms of heat and humidity. I’m going to try my AC method again to see if it really works or if it was just a fluke.

Day 16 –Phillipsburg, KS to Clay Center, KS 137.86 miles

2009-06-24T21:17:00.000-07:00

I had intended to get to Manhattan, KS, but I think this was the toughest day of the 16 I’ve done. Temps were over 100, wind was varying from 10 to 20 mph out of the southeast, and the gnats were ever present. The weather channel hasn’t predicted the winds correctly in Kansas yet. The first few hours of the day were phenomenal, I was on highway 9 and saw the best of Kansas. It was a beautiful area that had rolling hills outlined with low leafy trees and pines. The road was fortunately flat though, so I had a good pace going. A sweet smell of grass permeated the area and everything seemed soft. Until about 11am when the winds came followed by searing heat. Then the rollers. And then *ping*! I blew a spoke. But I didn’t recognize it at first. I had heard spokes go before, but never on my own bike. I came to a quick stop forced by what I thought were the rear brakes jammed on the wheel. They were, as well as the wheel pressed against the lower chain stay (or whatever it’s called). The wheel had also popped out of the drop outs which gave me quite a scare out in the middle of Kansas nowhere. I thought to myself I had finally done it, I blew the rear axle or cracked the quick release for the rack. 2,300 miles and here I was with a bum rack and wheel. There wasn’t much hope for me now. Now for most folks who know my mechanical ability, you should be laughing by now. An accountant with little mechanical ability on the side of a deserted road littered with his belongings. Man versus bike… well, scared little tights wearing dude against a gnarly piece of unresponsive machinery. I talked to the wheel for a bit, but it didn’t say anything. I tried reseating the wheel when I noticed the floppy spoke. Hopefully that was it – and it was. I was back on the road with a slight wobble on the back… No attempt at truing for me, I already had my set of firsts – a blown spoke and installing a new one. Besides, I figure Manhattan would have an able mechanic when they opened the next morning. I think the spoke was blown due to the weight on the rack distributed unevenly and attempting to blast through the Kansas rollers by standing. So the prescription is: redistribution of weight to center, and no more standing. Let’s hope for the best…
The day wore on as well as the rollers. I spotted a Kansas rock slide and took a picture, it appeared dangerous. There should be a retaining wall.
The heat pressed through my skin, boiling the moisture underneath. I noticed my skin was getting patchy so I stopped in Downs for a bite to eat and a break from the heat. A foot long sub and 96 oz of Gatorade later, I was back on the road. That’s 3 quarts in one sitting people. I don’t know where it went. My usual rule of Gatorade purchase before was to buy what I needed plus one, so usually 96 oz of Gatorade (3 32 oz bottles). This time it was 192 oz purchased (1.5 gallons). Thanks for the 2 for $3 promotion!
I made it to Beloit before I had to stop again, this time 64 oz of Gatorade fell victim to my appetite. I also noticed a curious thing happening to my body. As I was sitting at the table in the gas station, I felt my eyes were rolling into the back of my head. I was losing control of the muscles in my eyes. I decided to stay a little longer and chat with the locals. It was 92 miles to Manhattan, and it was 3:30. It would be night riding again for me. One of the locals told me about a group of cyclists going cross country from the east, I didn’t see them though.
It was another hard 60 miles of rollers to Clay Center, I arrived at 7:30. If I were to push to Manhattan I would be in the dark at least until 10pm. I decided it would be safer to cut it short for the evening. I stayed at the Cedar Court Motel for another $40 or so. These small mom and pop places are starting to grow on me, they provide the same breakfast, towels, etc. And since they own the place, they take pride in it and protect it. This particular motel had a Mexican restaurant attached to it and I took advantage of their enchiladas and ice cream.
Y’all may wonder what I do during the day to keep me occupied, since cycling probably is more of the background of my waking hours. Today I watched the sweat pool in my sunglass lenses and I would see just how much I could gather up before dumping it out on to the top bar of the bike. Then I would ponder just how much salt had accumulated underneath. Sometimes I would count the minutes between cars. For less travelled roads like highway 7 there were as many as 6 minutes between cars I would see. Bored of counting minutes I would then thank my nose for its curvature and its ability to drain away the sweat, I would inevitably count the seconds between drips. I cheated sometimes by dipping my head… I would count the miles before the next town and figure my time of arrival. When I was in the northwest I would not do so much counting because I had a lot to see around me. In Kansas there were the same fields of grain all around me, but as I went further east the trees became more numerous. A welcome sign of a nearing east coast.
You know how your lower back sweats when you’re sitting in the sun and you’re wearing too much clothing? When the sun is over my back in the afternoon it makes the entire front of my body sweat. It is a tremendous wash of salt and keeps me occupied from getting it in my eyes.
So that’s how I spend my day in Kansas.
I was extremely tired again, and quickly went to sleep. I managed a little more than 2 gallons worth of Gatorade plus about 64 oz of water. Tomorrow I will head as far as I can get without worrying much about the average speed. I’m a little beat down so I’m not going to set a goal.

Day 15 –St Francis, KS to Phillipsburg, KS 137.91miles

2009-06-23T21:26:00.000-07:00

Ow… this day reminded me of 100k charity rides in the Carolinas during August. The wind was no relief, and it blew directly from the east. It would just blow the hot asphalt air and all the gnats against me. I could tell the direction of the wind by where my skin was darkest from the gnats. I seemed to collect a lot of different species of insects, maybe I discovered a new one or two. The gnats were worse when the wind was weak, they would collect in a gnat cloud and then spray my body kamikaze style. In Kansas though, unlike the Carolinas, they don’t go for open areas of the body like the eyes, mouth, nose, etc. They keep to the arms, legs, and chest, which is nice. I’ll take the gnats over the 20 mph wind in the face. Unfortunately, Kansas will bless you with both several times over the course of the day.
I left the motel at 7:30 and didn’t have any wind until a couple hours later. I rode to Atwood and stopped at a local cafe with a painted mural of the late Dale Earnhardt on the window. Works for me! I had 2 helpings of mashed potatoes, roast beef, a roll, salad, corn, chicken sandwich, a couple glasses of water and coke… all for $15… Nice folks at “My Place”, although the waitstaff all wanted to be somewhere else more populated. They liked the principles of Kansas, but wanted everything else more urban areas provided. It was at this point I realized I was in Central time by the clock on the wall. Time didn’t matter much to the staff, as one didn’t know what I was talking about, “Central time”.

Everyone in Kansas waves at you. It's strange, the pickup trucks are friendlier than any other type of vehicle. Try waving at a truck in Carolina while on your bicycle and see what they'll fire back. I started experimenting with the traffic and it's true. The dirtier and truckier the vehicle, the friendlier. I gave a big wave to a passing Mercedez and I got nothing back

In Kansas, distance is measured by towns. If you’re going to Z town and you’re in W town, well then you have 2 towns to go through before you get to your destination. I had a few towns to pass in order to get to Phillipsburg. I looked up lodging in the town and found the Mark V motel had a good review so I headed there as directly as I could, over the continued rolling hills of Kansas. These rollers aren’t like the hiccups of Carolina where I can spin through it with the inertia from the prior downhill, they were 1 or 2 miles of 8%+ to throw me to my lowest gear. I grudged up and down them, my energy waning under the sun. I took a picture of a town sign with elevation of 3k, “No way” I thought, it feels like I’ve been going uphill for days.
Gatorade became a regular occurrence, I downed 192 oz over the day with about a gallon of water to chase. Subway received my business with a footlong club sub late in the day and I hit the bed with one bounce before I was asleep again. The heat sucks the life out of me. I am tired of hills. Kansas is not flat. I’ll say it again, Kansas is not flat.

Day 14 – Thornton, CO to St Francis, KS 194.13 miles

2009-06-23T20:50:00.000-07:00

Phase II Denver to Charlotte
So it’s June 21st and I need to be home by July 3rd, a very tall order but doable. I’ll have 13 days to cover around 1600 miles, or at least 123 miles per day. I jettisoned all my heavy clothing, my sleeping pad, and other items to lighten the load. Since I don’t have a scale, I suspect I relieved my bike of around 10 lbs of extra gear.
Ever since Wyoming I’ve had shifting problems, each time it rains it gets worse. The shimano folks from the RTR tour recommended changing the cassette. I bought a new cassette and put on the new chain given to me by the good shimano folks. Brian and I messed with the gearing but it still didn’t work out, I guess I’ll have to limp 1,600 miles back home! Brian thinks it may be the shifter, it seems to have acquired an 11th click. I also bought some Continental touring tires at the RTR Continental booth ($50 each is a good deal) for the road home instead of the racing tires. Brian and I went up Lookout Mountain on Saturday and they seemed to ride through anything, a nice change from the jarring 4000s ($45 at RTR).
I said my goodbyes to the new McManus family and I got a little teary as I left, there were a lot of memories crammed into a short amount of time for them and me as well. Big thanks to them for letting me be the third wheel, I’m sure they’ll be glad for some normalcy soon.
The terrible storms that have pounded the Midwest have since passed, I’ll face very high temperatures all the way to the Appalachians. I had feared getting caught in an infamous Kansas storm, I think I have lucked out this time. I want to be in Kansas by the end of the day, which would be about 187 miles according to Google. Somehow I acquired another 7 miles to make 194. I took 120th out beyond DIA and then down to 88th for a while and then south again to US-36. The wind came from the south so there were some slow miles each time I turned into the wind. When I arrived on US-36 it was a welcome change, and the road was fantastic with wide shoulders and smooth pavement. I saw Porsches pass me intermittently on the highway which puzzled me but I finally found the source out in the middle of nowhere: there was a race (road) track where they were running the course as fast as they could. I think they were time trialing, there weren’t any clear winners.
After the track the road started to crumble and the rollers became steeper and steeper, where were the flatlands? From the air Kansas and East Colorado looks flat…
I happened across another cyclist named Noah who was on his way back home. He had an old RTR jersey on but he did not participate in the ride this year. It was his first attempt to do something like this, I explained to him the importance of chamois butt’r on long rides instead of using Gold Bond powder and how Endurox is quite helpful for recovery. I guess just a short 13 days to Denver had made me somewhat a veteran already. I’m sure I still have a lot to learn though!
It was hot, but at least it wasn’t raining. The wind was coming out of the south so it wasn’t completely at my back however it gave me a little boost. The rollers just wouldn’t stop, I thought I would average 20 mph on the flats but they never came. Instead it was the same 15 mph and I knew I would be ending the day in the dark.
I stopped in Anton at a grocery store just before it closed and bought some Gatorade, M&Ms, Pringles, and a prepackaged ham and cheese sandwich. Gone in no time. I was sitting at a picnic table by the store and shared my space with a local farming family (Horas). They told me about how the government pays them to not work the fields on a rotating basis. They also explained to me why all the towns I passed through seemed to be modern ghost towns with all the motels and restaurant/cafes boarded up. Since there were less fields to work, there were no transient workers around to keep the businesses busy. It was sad to see the towns like Cope Colorado where a once vibrant town now looked like a dilapidated post war East German town.
I caught a flat as the sun went down near Idalia. The front tire masked the flat I think for a few miles before I realized it. A staple had worked its way through the tire but it was a quick fix and a needed rest off the saddle. For all the folks who want to lose weight fast, try James’ workout model: Bike 13 hours in 90+ degree heat and have 2 bowls of cereal in the morning with the above lunch…
In eastern Colorado the sun goes down on the summer solstice at 8:30ish. By then the roads were terrible and I wasn’t excited to dodge potholes in the dark. I pushed through to Kansas in the dark and the roads immediately changed to perfect flat asphalt. It was a smooth ride to St Francis but the twinkling city lights in the distance never seemed to come fast enough. When it’s the only thing I had to look at, and the hills came and went, I was admittedly frustrated.
I arrived at the Dusty Farmer hotel, learned from some of the other guests to ring the doorbell for service, paid my $40, got in the room, and almost immediately fell asleep. The Asian innkeeper kept saying “You’re checking in so late!” It was only 10:30… so I thought. I wouldn’t learn until the next day that I was in Central time. Losing a precious hour again hurts!
In addition to the calories above I had a clif bar, banana, 96 oz of Gatorade, and about 260 oz of water…
Tomorrow I head east again to Phillipsburg, about 150 miles and hopefully with the wind at my back. It’ll be even hotter than today, but at least no rain!

RTR days placeholder

2009-06-23T20:07:00.000-07:00

Hey folks - just a placeholder for the missing RTR days I'll edit when I have a chance, on to the trip home for now.

RTR Day 2 –Hotchkiss CO to Gunnison CO, 81.3 miles

2009-06-17T20:03:00.001-07:00

I left around 7:30 am after cooking up some pancakes at the tent. I thought it was a good idea, but we had a half gallon of milk to finish so I probably drank too much of it. Out on the road I realized why I don’t drink a lot of milk since it is an inflammatory and would not do wonders for my knee. Here is a recent article on anti-inflammatory diets: http://www.velonews.com/article/92129/sports-nutritionist-monique-ryan-takes-a-look-at

There was a very long line for the luggage trucks this morning, I put my bag on the middle truck and guessed it would take about 5 hours to get me to Gunnison in 80 miles. While there weren’t any passes ahead, it was just mostly uphill.
The weather for the past two day’s riding has been perfect, chilly in the morning with mid 70s during the day. Put a cherry on top to make it a sun-day…
7:30 I assume is considered late in the RTR world, there were more warring cycling factions on the hillsides and it seemed the prior day’s battles had blasted more injuries through the ranks. The SAG wagons were full of bikes. For those who survived, there were spectacular views of Black Canyon and the river responsible for its creation below us. There were times I would ride in the middle of the road to ease my fear of going airborne. The mind plays funny tricks, I imagined myself getting launched on the descents when the front tire blew out. Rather fatalistic for such a beautiful day.
The day was much easier for me, I talked to some other folks and they claimed today was harder. I expect the elevation profile didn’t do all the climbing we did any justice.
I arrived in Gunnison just short of 12:30 as expected. I had a little help on the pulls with Mike, a gentleman aspiring to complete the Kentucky Iron Man in August. He also wants to qualify for Kona. He was modest and pulled his share of the load, people I like. Meanwhile behind us we had a wheelsucker for about 25 miles. I call them ghosts, they don’t talk during the ride but they make just enough noise to let you know they’re there, and never pull up front. To be fair, he did come by later at the campsite to chat about the various rides in the Colorado area.
So, 12:30 in Gunnison, and no luggage truck. It broke down on the road and wouldn’t arrive until 2:30. For folks unfamiliar with large supported tours like RTR, the positives of getting into town early are the lack of lines to the things you need, like a shower, clean toilets, food, etc. Without a bag, there would be no shower, which was the other dream I had along the way besides falling off the side of the mountain. Speaking of falling off mountains, I met someone later who had flipped over a guardrail along the way but fortunately there wasn’t a lot of open space between the rail and consequential ground.
Just as predicted, the bags arrived at 2:30 and I was peached. When the rest of the party arrived we bee-lined to the local brewery and had great hospitality. Sticking to my diet guns, I had a salad. It was paltry so I gave in a little to some of Jennifer’s nachos.
Uneventful night – I was to awake early and head to Salida to secure a very good camping spot in the courtyard of the school, a building with many shades. I woke at 1am to discover my travel pillow sprung a leak so my head was flat on the floor. 1am was a little early to head to Salida though…

RTR Day 1 – Glenwood Springs to Hotchkiss CO via McClure Pass, 98.7 miles

2009-06-16T14:26:00.000-07:00

We skipped the Saturday Road Race on 6/13 and watched the Stanley Cup the night before. The RR was part of an omnium, Lance Armstrong and Levi Leipheimer participated in the time trial on Friday. He has been vacationing/training in Aspen for what seems like a couple weeks now. Before we left Glenwood he and Levi went over Independence Pass (our day 6 from Leadville to Aspen) and reported wind/hail/snow/ice/sleet, etc… so we have a lot to look forward to in a few days.
Brian and I started Ride the Rockies with the criterium in Glenwood Springs. It was a field of about 55 or 60. In Colorado there are only 4 categories of racers so there it looked like a lot of new folks in the race. One had put his number upside down, others on the wrong side. On the last 10 laps the officials hadn't cleared lapped riders who were getting in the way and who also tried to race the peloton to prevent another lapping (if that's the correct term). I stayed mostly in the back except for one lap which prompted one of the participants to ask if I had been lapped. I kind of expected this since I had a Ride the Rockies kit on and nothing denoting I was on a team. I said a flat "no" and continued. I finished with the pack of about 20, there wasn’t a lot motivating me since it didn’t count for anything anyhow, it was good to be in a race to see how the legs would hold up after 2 weeks of endurance cycling… Everything seemed fine.
We turned our attention to Hotchkiss around 9:45am, 80 miles away. We knew we would have a bad headwind based on the habit of the winds these past few weeks coming from the south. 20 miles in we were met with the wind furies but fortunately we picked up another strong person by the name of Evan in our streamline to make our ordeal a little less painful. The first rest stop was already picked clean of any food so we continued to the base of the mountain for McClure Pass. The climb was the first time in a while I hadn’t had 50 lbs to lug up with me, the ascent was double the normal loaded speed. It was a cycling relief of sorts since I was considering putting the rack on to carry cameras and other items. There were many folks on the route who elected the rack and I’m sure they have great pictures along the way.
The short 18 racing miles at 24.5 mph average earlier had taken its toll. My left hamstring seized up halfway up the mountain and I learned rather painfully through trial and error how to climb without using my hamstrings (point your toes down). I’ve never cramped like that before nor did I realize how much I used my hamstrings.
Leaving late gave me the opportunity to see more folks on the road, last year I typically left early so I’m on my own most of the way. On my way up McClure it looked like the aftermath of two warring cyclist colonies: bodies littered the roadways tending to their wounds and others were walking their machines up the roadside… the two pistons to drive them had obviously overheated… Hopefully there wasn’t anything too serious.
Personal SAG vehicles were also retrieving their wounded, which was a little obnoxious because it made getting around the rest stop at the top difficult. Oh well – it looked like people were having fun for the most part while killing themselves :)
The ride into Hotchkiss was uneventful, there was a roadside barrel wine tasting but it was too close to town so I didn’t stop. I think whenever I’m within 10 miles of “home” there’s not going to be a lot to keep me from getting there. My hamstrings, quads, and other muscles I couldn’t name continued to seize along the way, which probably made some of the other cyclists curious as to why I would pass them and then stop pedaling for a while until I could work out the kinks… they would pass me and a minute later I would pass them again. I was/am one of “those guys” that race to the next town in Ride the Rockies. Calories included the obligatory clif bar, a roadside peanut butter and jelly sandwich with cookie, a tentside paella with sausage and chicken, peanuts, and some Ben & Jerry’s ice crea

Spoke too soon on the body...

2009-06-11T03:43:00.000-07:00

I wasn't able to get on the bike today - the tornadoes kept me at bay. I dropped my wife off at the airport at 3pm and I headed to REI for last minute items for RTR. We all went to the Gordon Biersch for dinner and I had the grilled ahi tuna and salad with a couple slices of Jennifer's pizza. Washed it down with a couple beers.

I woke up at 3 this morning with sharp stomach pains similar to what I had last week, uh oh... here we go again. Except the result was vomiting a couple times. WebMD wasn't much help, although I think my self diagnosis is obvious: Overeating, overexercise, NSAIDs, drinking alcohol, and the occasional raw fish = disaster.

Now I'm sitting here with an empty burning stomach waiting for the Walgreens to open...

Intermission June 5th - June 12th 2009

2009-06-09T19:09:00.000-07:00

Sorry for the delay in the last few posts, it took a bit of time to collect myself and settle in to Denver. Just so folks know, I'm on a break until we head out to Glenwood Springs this Friday evening to prepare for a road race on Saturday morning. Then, Sunday morning we'll have a criterium and then hit the road for 80 miles on the first leg of Ride the Rockies 2009 (http://www.ridetherockies.com/). Let's hope for no wrecks in the races as I don't think I can patch my frame like I've done for my tubes.

I attended the wedding of McManus-Jennings on June 6th and the weather was beautiful. The next day there was hail and Stephanie and I watched a tornado pass near the newlywed's house. Afternoon tornadoes seem to be the norm in Colorado right now, I will be glad to get to the mountains soon on a supported ride without the rain.

I have not been on a bike since a 30 mile recovery ride on Friday to get accustomed to an unloaded bike. The chain and cassette is fine, they just needed readjustment. On the body check: I suffered a couple of days before purchasing some Immodium and it cleared me right up. My left knee was sore to the touch for a couple days and it wasn't until today that I could walk down a set of stairs without feeling it. My legs also burned after climbing the same set of stairs for a couple days as well. All in all, it took me about 5 days to get to "normal", tomorrow I plan to get on the bike for the first time since Friday tomorrow for some fine tuning and some practice in the corners since all I've done is time trial for 80% of the 1,500 miles.

Well, I drop my lovely wife off at the airport tomorrow, pack up and restock for RTR on Thursday, then off to the tour on Friday. Look for posts by the latest on Sunday to recap the races and first leg of RTR 2009.

Day 13 –Mile 228 Rest Area I-80, WY to Loveland, CO, 173.5 miles

2009-06-09T09:20:00.000-07:00

Fog. I awoke late, around 6:30am. I had wanted to be on the road by 6 to guarantee my arrival in Colorado on time. I spoke with Brian the night before and he had class until 9pm so I had plenty of time to make my way deep into CO country. I collected my things and noticed I had a flat on the front. By now I was thankful that it wasn’t on the back since I wouldn’t have to take everything off the back to access the rear wheel. I rolled the bike over to the main building to change it in a warm room and noted that there was a lot of wire sticking through the tire. I surmised that the bits of tire shredded across the interstate highway were responsible. So, for all the interstate cyclists out there, the tire treads should be avoided at all cost.
Since I slept in my kit and was quick to change the tire, I was on the road by 7am. One of the visitors by car at the rest area was complaining to me about the visibility and how he didn’t feel safe on the road. He wanted the fog to clear before heading west. I was just prepared for more rain so I headed towards the interstate.
I was out of the fog by the first hill and into the sunshine and it was just 7 miles to the exit for US-287. The traffic on I-80 was unusually skewed to truck traffic, which is fine, they gave me a lot of room even though it was unnecessary. For every 1 car there must have been 5 trucks. The ratio also set the environment ripe for trucker bombs. They seemed to populate the tops of hills, I guess the trucker could concentrate more on personal matters when going slowly up a hill rather than cruising in other sections of the highway. I even saw a variant of the species in a zip lock bag. A methhead’s form of liquid gold I presume. Google “Trucker Bomb Meth” if you’re curious.
I exited for US-287 and headed towards Medicine Bow, my original stopping “happy point” yesterday evening. I made it about 500 feet down the road before an electronic sign indicated the road was closed due to flooding. What kind of flooding was it? Couldn’t I just walk my bike across? Knowing what I’ve encountered before, flooding in the west is a deluge compared to what I encounter in North Carolina and the road probably doesn’t exist anymore. Reluctantly I turned and headed back out on I-80 for another 80 or so miles to Laramie.
It wasn’t as bad as I thought. The roads were lovely except for the tire wire landmines. Traffic was light and no one seemed to mind my presence. I probably represent someone’s day on the interstate on another blog somewhere: “Check out this crazy cyclist on the interstate, is this legal?” I also wondered how long I would go before an inquisitive trooper would make a stop to ask why all the other roads in Wyoming weren’t of use to me. Fortunately, some road workers allayed my fears and also told me around 9pm last night the river flooded US-287 and took out the bridge. I’m glad I wasn’t on the road then despite my best desires to beat the rain last night!
The road to Laramie was uneventful and the weather was splendid. I did catch another flat on the rear due to the tire wire but I needed a rest anyways. I-80, when looking at a topography map, has a curious layout, the road is draped over the foothills of the Medicine Bow Mountains. I was constantly going up and down over the mountains where if the engineers placed the interstate just another couple miles north the road would have been mostly flat. It was as if Wyoming wanted to make it difficult for the truckers. Fortunately, the wind was at my back and I was in Laramie by 1pm. My arrival in Denver on time was looking very good. I stopped at McDonald’s to feed my illusions of cheeseburgers (something that develops at around the 100 mile mark) and also to check the weather since the typical storm clouds were brewing to the south.
US-287 rejoins I-80 at Laramie so I was back on the original track and ahead of schedule. It is 10 miles less on I-80 than US-287. I headed south knowing storms were strafing the area. The wind was a lovely 15-20 mph on my back and it was an effortless cruise at 20 mph. I was chasing the tail end of a storm so I wasn't pushing too hard. It was 23 miles to the CO border, a psychological barrier in my mind I think because for the next hour I was reminiscing of the past 2 week’s memories and events. Mt. Ranier, Yakima valley, US-12, Montana, Yellowstone, Teton, flat tires, etc… There was a nice little hill to crest before heading into Colorado, and the resulting downhill and wind into the lovely state of mind hurdled me at 45 mph for several miles. A lovely day!
Finally, in Colorful Colorado! But, as all good things come to an end, the wind changed direction and blew into my face. I could manage 15 mph downhill, which it seemed most of the road was downhill. I noticed a change in the scenery: trees… and smog. I could barely see the horizon. I was kind of sad, I had taken for granted the clear air of the previous states. It seemed the wind was blowing the dirt straight towards me. I felt like I had when I looked out of the window of an airplane, you can tell when you’re close to a major city when you start to enter the brown blanket that surrounds it 30 miles out.

Sage brush gave way to pink granite and sandstones while misty mountains resembling an Irish countryside bordered the western horizon.
Soapbox: US-287 around the Laporte area is awful – the wide shoulder is mauled by perpendicular rumblestrips that straddle the entire shoulder and sometimes even into the travel lane, forcing me out into a understandably very angry 70-80 mph traffic. It was a hairy ride after 120 miles on the legs.
I arrived in Fort Collins around 6pm, it was a sort of paradise with all the cycling lanes and the many people who were using them for commuting home or exercise. I headed down Shields Street soaking in the sun and thinking about a warm place to lounge… The Denver area has a curious layout, the houses seemed to crowd small areas penned in by fences like the tumbleweeds did in Wyoming while all around were wide open spaces. There weren’t a lot of trees to block the wind which came very strong from the south. The few trees that did exist bent easily against the force of the wind. Just like my will to pedal against it after 150 miles!
I made it to Loveland and I got the call from Brian, he would pick me up at exit 225 off of I-25. I didn’t really know where I was going once I got to the Denver area so I now had a destination. It was around 8:00, I had been on the bike for around 12 hours... I was picked up like a rag doll on the roadside, sitting in a car was surreal and all the pains of the road became noticeable. It seemed the wind dulled the pain while I was riding. We went to a bar with friends and it became difficult for me to be social. A couple weeks of riding and poor diet had finally ripped through my intestines and liquefied everything. The next few days would truly be recovery. Brian’s wedding is Saturday though so I would have to pull myself together.

Special thanks to all the truckers on the road who shared their interstate with me and didn't attempt to hit me with their infamous bombs.

Day 12 –Lander, WY, to Mile 228 Rest Area I-80, WY 143.1 miles

2009-06-07T08:06:00.000-07:00

Ah… dry clothes, but cloud covered skies again. I was much more at ease knowing I had two options on filling tubes in the event of a flat.
Adam and I set out at 7am hard and fast. I needed to get my blood moving and the wind was blowing from the northwest. We made short work of the first 80 miles after crossing the continental divide a couple more times. We saw the sun for the first time in a few days, and the wind grew stronger the closer we made to Rawlins. It was a fantastic day and a boost to the morale. It was good to have someone talk to and we related on many topics on the road. I finally saw more than 500 ft around me and saw Wyoming’s interior: sage brush. There were signs overrun by the Wyoming weed describing how they were trying to thin the sage brush. Personally I love the smell of sage, but could understand why too much of a good thing would be a nuisance.
About 80 miles in we crossed with 2 ladies headed west to Portland. They were knowledgeable and hearty, it was good to see a couple females on the road besides stinky men. Unfortunately, pedaling after stopping for the chat became very difficult and the knees responded poorly. Adam tried to lead but the BOB trailer he used had a habit of kicking up all the rocks on the road.
We tried to stop at Grandma’s Café in Lamont but the employee there said it was closed because the owner had an orthodontist appointment. We had not stopped since Lander and my legs were tired. We kept going less by choice and more of necessity, storm clouds were approaching.
We arrived at Rawlins around 3pm riding some good storm winds. We stopped at a diner and Adam had a 1lb’er burger. The burger met its demise in a few short minutes. He said he would not go any further for the day. Seeing I had another 5 hours of light and good storm winds to pull me to Laramie, I set my sights high and maybe was a little greedy. I reviewed his adventure cycling maps and it showed I-80 as the route, a little concerning to me. My route didn’t include I-80. Plus, it was 10 miles shorter if I took the interstate all the way to Laramie instead of US-287. I had my angels and demons battle it out on my shoulders as I set out onto I-80 getting pushed along from the storms at 25 mph. Not bad after 120 miles of pedaling. I stopped in Sinclair under an underpass to wait out one of the passing storm cells. I decided to call in back up – my wife. Since my blackberry couldn’t do motion on the weather I had her navigate for me, she said a half hour wait would put me on the road again. She was excited that I would be so close to Denver by nightfall.
On the pedals again I hauled back on to the interstate and made for the exit at US-287, deciding I did not want to take I-80 all the way to Laramie. I made it about 4 miles before the storms enveloped me and sent me to yet another rest stop at mile marker 228. Since I was a little seasoned this time, I went straight for the picnic shelter that afforded the most protection from the wind. I bagged myself and sat on my sleeping pad, it was 7:30pm. I decided if I could make Medicine Bow about 40 miles away by nightfall I would be satisfied. The rain fell harder and the air was thick with fog. Sleep came heavy on my eyes and after sending out tweets and various other things to keep me entertained and awake, I saw a state trooper circle the parking lot… and then again… 5 minutes later he passed again, and this time with some kind of government truck. Ugh, what was I going to do? I waited for them to arrive at my two walled house for eviction. They never came. I talked with my wife again about the weather and it seemed I was going to stay at the rest area for the night. She was very disappointed. I think I slept the best that night in a long time… 80 miles to Laramie, then see how far I can get to home base by night fall. It looked to be about 200 miles tomorrow.

Day 11 –Wyoming rest area to Lander, WY, 35.74 miles

2009-06-07T07:25:00.001-07:00

The night was tough sleeping next to a highway. It rained the whole night. I finally went to sleep and awoke to the same scene, dreary gray with rain. When I finally got enough warmth to carry me out of my tarp burrito I discovered a lot of rather healthy looking worms had also bedded under the tarp for warmth. I nervously looked at the tires to see if they had maintained the air overnight and they had, life’s simple pleasures…
I said my goodbyes to the other weather s(tr)ickened travelers and was off for the hopefully uneventful 30 miles to Lander. It rained the whole way. I was even more miserable than the other day, and the rain and wind devastated my knees.
I arrived around 10:15am to the bike shop and was happy to purchase a pump, 4 tubes, and CO2 cartridges. I asked about camping or lodging along the way to Rawlins and the employee said there was none. It was hard to believe 150 miles had nothing in between the two towns and when I put my wet and cold coat back on, the weight of the pending 150 miles crushed my shoulders. I decided to find someplace warm, and was suggested the Oxbow restaurant in town would be a good place to search out this warmth. I milked every minute at the restaurant with a 30 minute phone call to my mother, 4 cups of coffee, a sandwich, and then French toast. Noon passed and I decided to pack it in for the day, given the 150 miles of rain ahead of me. Next to the restaurant was an inviting lodge beckoning my poor wet soul. Check in wasn’t until 1pm, I was happy to wait inside.
When I finally settled in I took my clothes over to their washer and dryer and made use of them. My bike probably took on 5 lbs of road dirt so I took it to the carwash and sprayed it down. The memories of the past two days seemed to wash away with the grime. I was happy to see the clean Cannondale again. Concerned that the 27 gear wasn’t working I took it back to the bike shop for them to look at it and to clean the rear hub since it seemed to stick a little while I was walking to the rest stop. As I walk in I see a familiar face, Adam from Teton had decided to head east instead of south due to distance. I offered up my room and he happily accepted.
The bike shop said my cassette was shot and my chain was stretched. Preposterous. The SRAM chain had about 500 miles on it and the Ultegra cassette was only used for Ride the Rockies 2008 last year, so it had about 1,200 miles on it. They had adjusted my gears to a funny setting and the 27 still didn’t work. Whatever, there weren’t that many hills until Denver.
Adam and I shared pictures and I had the opportunity to upload several to facebook and blogger. Finally, dry and warm clothes too for the next day. Plus, the weather looked favorable and the winds would be at our backs. We decided the next day we would try for Rawlins and see if we could make it any further beyond it. Adam was headed to Cheyenne so we would part at Laramie, about 235 miles away using the transcontinental route.

Day 10 – Colter Bay to a Wyoming rest area, 108.75 miles appx

2009-06-06T14:48:00.000-07:00

I awoke early knowing I had a long day ahead of me to get to Lander about 150 miles away, the mystical city of bicycle pumps. I had only one flat and it was due to going off on a sidewalk leading into a hotel, so I was a little pensive but thought to myself, “what’s the worst that could happen?” I left east out of Teton after saying my goodbyes to Adam, the college student who returned my bibs. I had a big climb ahead of me and looked forward to it.
Along the climb on US-287 there was yet more road construction but nothing I felt completely destructive to the bike, and it looked like I was about 200 feet from the tree line this time. Once at the top some tourists were out of their RV taking pictures of the snow covered vistas and congratulated me as I came over Togwotee Pass. Mountain passes are much easier now after Mt Ranier, I keep thinking about that day and how hard it was, maybe my legs are stronger…
The descent was effortless, no roadwork made the encroaching storm clouds a little less painful to watch roll in from the south. They did make a short spit at me which sent me to the first gas station for some coffee and trail mix. I met a couple guys there who explained to me the sounds of when the snow bowls break and it’s usually out of towners who cause them. One was from eastern Colorado said I would miss hail season when riding across Kansas in late June. I wasn’t aware of such a season and would be glad I missed it. He also said the rain in Wyoming was similar to what had just passed and any rain would last just a few minutes.
I came across some more roadwork in the valley about 10 miles west of Dubois, WY. They were tarring some asphalt which I avoided, or thought I did. I flatted and instantly was aware of my surroundings, no working pump to fix the flat. In the distance there was a very worn looking building with a yellow and black lettered sign saying “Store Gas”, with evidence of neither.

I walked the mile to get there and fortunately there was an open sign. It was around lunch time so I was conveniently hungry. I walked in and their wares were haphazardly arranged on old metal shelving and behind glass cases, no one was around. I was interested to see where this would go so I hunted for someone with my most unaccented voice. I found a middle aged woman doing something in the back but couldn’t quite tell what was of import. She was quite helpful, they had a freezer full of microwave food which I had the lasagna and a root beer for about $5. There was a workshop out back with someone trying to change a transmission in a truck. I went through the motions of trying to fix the flat and this time the compressed air could only manage about 60 lbs of pressure. Another employee came in and was a mountain biker, he called his girlfriend in town 10 miles away to let her know I was coming to use his adapter for the presta valve. I set off and about a mile and a half down the road I heard the awful hiss again. I walked back to the store while a rain started to set in on the area. Nothing is more frustrating than to have to walk the ground covered you had just rode over so quickly. I fixed the flat again and was off, this time it was about 3pm and I knew it was going to be a hard ride into Lander if I were to make it by 9ish. I made it to Dubois and stopped where the mountain biker said his girlfriend lived, there were several bikes strewn about the area so I felt good… but no answer. It was starting to rain harder so I decided to head out of town thinking that the rain would last a few minutes like the fellow earlier up the mountain had said. The rain only came harder, and then the wind followed, making the rain bite and sting at my lips. I saw folks drive by with road bikes attached to the roof and imagined asking if I could buy their pump from them, I didn’t care what it would cost me. I lost my 27 gear which made hills a little more challenging than they should have been, and my speedometer went out for a few miles. I don’t have a lot of pictures of the area because it rained so hard and the clouds hung so low as if they wanted to scoop me up, there was nothing to see but grey.
I was feeling really for sorry for myself and then the anger started to set in so I had some good miles in the rain. I was very bitter, wet, cold, and pondering if there was such a thing as a tropical rain desert. The sun started to go down after hours in the rain and I saw a rest area sign ahead in 2 miles coming up, I needed water so I thought I’d stop. Then I started to fishtail – I was in instant denial. I kept pedaling, but curiosity drew my head down to watch my top tube move off axis from my headset. I started screaming, 3 flats in one day, soaking wet, and I was 30 miles from the closest town.
The rest area would be a somber refuge, I thought I would just call a cab to pick me up even though there probably wasn’t one in Lander 30 miles away. As I walked along the highway unable to see anything because of the clouds and rain, I felt very alone, stupid, defeated, ridiculous, but mostly stupid. It was about 8:30 by the time I stumbled into the rest area. There were signs saying “No open flames” and “No overnight camping”, I thought it would be nice to have some fire and a tent but mostly something just dry. And then I started to laugh, there were bicycles under the roofs of the picnic areas with a couple tents in the grassy areas. My search for a full 100 psi was in a rest area miles from any civilization. I had been looking for a pump for a long time… Victory!
I met the three individuals. One European gentleman had been on the road for a month and planned to make the grand tour of Yellowstone before heading west. The other 2 at the stop were on their way to Vancouver from Lubbock. They had graduated from school and decided to make the best of it. We were all tired and wet.
Seeing the tent as useless, I bundled up in the sleeping bag with my wet clothes and wrapped myself in the tarp like a burrito… Tomorrow I would hopefully get to Lander, land of pumps. Since it was 30 miles I considered it walking distance, I felt a little easier going to sleep. Plus, it wouldn’t be raining in the morning as it usually just rains in the afternoon.

Day 9 – Rest day – Flagg Ranch to Colter Bay Campground 20.63 miles

2009-06-02T21:16:00.000-07:00

A little bit of a scare...
Much needed rest day today. I woke up late and lazed around with the intention of having lunch at the lodge. I packed everything up and being the third day since I filled up the tires I went about the motions of pumping up the tires. I noticed the Topeak Road Morph pump looked a little different but I paid it no mind, pushed down on the valve and *thpft*, the innards of the valve spit against the rim, instantly flattening the tire. Hum. The end cap holding everything together on the pump had disappeared. I put everything together sans end cap and tried again on the other tire: a little more controlled deflating this time. Damn.

I had no other way of inflating the tires. I packed everything else up and was sure there was someone around who had a pump. I went to the lodge and made my inquiries, several were mountain bikers but none had presta valve pumps. There was an auto compressor next to the gas pumps so I took it over there and left to go to the campground near the area to see if someone there had a pump. One guy had an emergency pump for his car but it wasn’t helping his dead battery. No one else had a pump either. I walked back to the lodge and went into the convenience store, more conversation led nowhere but I saw out of the corner of my eye some duct tape in the store and it gave me an idea. I went into my bag and had some athletic tape which I wrapped around the valve and used the air compressor at the gas pump. Presto – the presta valve became Schrader at 80 lbs of pressure. Meanwhile one of the employees came out to mock me asking me rhetorically if guys like me were prepared for anything. I didn’t tell him I was never a boy scout. Another maintenance person stopped to ask how things were and proceeded to tell a story about how he pulled someone on a mountain bike in his truck by a rope through the park until the inevitable rope snap from braking sent the biker over the guy’s truck. Meanwhile over the guy’s radio attached to his uniform began telling a story about a guy in the campground with a dead battery. The maintenance guy responded saying he’d have to wait. The person with the dead battery had jumper cables, all he needed was a live battery. I decided to skip lunch at the lodge and won’t be back to Flagg Ranch.

Off to Colter Bay campground for a much needed rest day 20 miles away, the knees agreed. It was uphill and on bad pavement and in some places where no pavement existed. So, 20 miles was actually a long way. Finally, the first sight of the Tetons was so rewarding. Storm clouds looked to crowd the western slopes with blue skies to the east made very dramatic pictures, and this was to last for both days.

I made camp at Colter Bay for $7 and it seemed like they cordoned off the “Hiker/Biker” section the furthest away from everyone else and everything. If I was a hiker, I’d be a little aggravated. If I were a biker with a bad knee on a rest day, I’d be a little aggravated. And don’t get me started about the bear boxes. According to instructions everything including the obvious food plus water bottles, toiletries, utensils, stoves, etc, regardless of whether they were clean or dirty, were to go in the bear box, a giant brown steel rectangular box on the ground with two chains and clasps like a dog leash to close it. All of it about 40 feet away. Brushing teeth, water, and food all became careful planning.

I walked down to the more commercialized area of the campground and bought some odds and ends at the grocery store which I thought to be well stocked for a campground. I headed down to the marina where I spent a couple hours just sitting around watching the storm beat against the mountains unsuccessfully. Just an FYI – if you want to use the canoes you have to get there before 3pm. Several people did not know this and was a source of several heated conversations when the initial person learning the policy from the marina employee relayed the information to the rest of the canoeing hopeful party.

I met another unassuming cross country cyclist who agreed to take a picture of me in front of the mountains. He seemed to be one of the less social cyclists who wouldn’t mind riding on roads devoid of any human life. He said he wouldn’t think twice about sleeping on the side of the road and seemed upset that I would suggest that in Yellowstone he would pay money for one of the campgrounds. He warned me of terrible and pavementless roads ahead. We said our goodbyes and he disappeared as quickly as he came.

I could spend days just sitting and staring at the Tetons, they are captivating. Pictures won't do them justice because there's movement along the range.

One thing I didn’t mention about Day 7 when the storm was chasing me down the mountain was the jug of Endurox flew off and I had to turn around to chase it. What I didn’t know at the time was my 24 Hours of Booty bibs in “dry mode” on top of my stuff had also flown off the back. When I arrived in Ennis I had realized my loss… Well, after settling in and returning from the bathroom another cyclist arrived in the campground wearing the bibs I had lost. Wearing my 24HOB T-shirt the first words were “I think I have your shorts.” We shared many stories that evening including his hospitality from prison workers and some other strange characters he had met along the way. He was headed south to Jackson to meet friends.

My plan in the morning was to get to Lander, WY, where reportedly there was a bike shop – 150 miles away.

Calories were 2 sleeves of Ritz crackers, the bottle of wine, couple Fat Tire beers, 4 oz of pepper cheese, 2 clif bars, noodles in a box, Bumblebee chicken salad in a can.

Day 8 – Ennis, MT to Flagg Ranch Grand Teton Nat’l Park 149.65 miles

2009-06-02T18:07:00.000-07:00

Longest day of the expedition by far. I think I did everything that could be done today. I got rained on, went over a Continental Divide 3x, went nearly 150 miles, and saw a whole lotta animals. I could technically split the day in two days, before and after Yellowstone. I awoke at 6am and was out on the road by 6:45 in the hopes of beating the winds the weather channel was forecasting for the day. Ennis seemed to be a big fly fisherman’s paradise, a sort of hardy subculture I was never aware of…
As soon as I got out of town I was hit head on with 15 – 20 mph winds that kept me at a steady 10 mph pace for about 40 miles up the valley of Montana. As a reference I was going 10 mph up the mountain pass the day before (with the help of the menacing storm). Along the way I saw some curious small land developments of a handful of expensive looking houses which in Montana seems kind of silly when all around are miles and miles of open land, why live right next to someone? The winds also kept the antelope close to the ground. I spotted some every now and again and tried to take pictures, they would not allow it, they are very fast animals.
The winds broke once I went into the valley of Earthquake Lake where the mosquitoes were waiting for me, and they were huge. I had stopped to take a picture of an historical marker and was immediately swarmed by the monsters. I left without the picture. They pelted me like rain drops through the valley and seemed to die on contact so I kept my pace higher than I would have liked. Resting wasn’t an option for about 30 miles. I took my helmet off for 20 miles around Hebgen Lake to keep the mosquitoes clear of my head, I didn’t want them nibbling at my brain. For folks (like me) who don’t know about Earthquake Lake, the gentleman at the visitor center way back near Hamilton told me that in the 50’s an earthquake ripped the side of a mountain off and basically buried alive many folks in a campground below. There was a visitor center at the quake site but I did not stop for fear of getting sucked dry of my blood. When I came over the dam I didn’t see what the big deal was until I was about a mile down the road and looked back – there was half a mountain staring back. Time has stood still in the valley, nothing grows on the face of the mountain. The lake that was formed when it dammed the river killed the remaining trees in the valley and they stand as lifeless white spires today.
I made it to West Yellowstone (71 miles from Ennis) in record slow time of about 6 hours, had lunch at a small café, and then visited a bike shop. Both establishments already seemed to suffer from tourist fatigue early in the season, I’m sure they get the same questions day in and day out. They went through the motions and that was about it. I didn’t spend much time there though I should have when looking back now 150 miles into the day… I headed into Yellowstone around 3pm thinking I would catch the campsites 30 miles in on the south side. The folks at the bike shop told me about the numerous campgrounds on the south side. I decided I would head at least the 30 miles into the park despite the two looming passes I had to cross to get to the site. The closest campground was 14 miles in and I thought it too close for a following rest day.
Within a few miles of entering the park I was met face to face with the enormous bison. Remembering as a kid the ranger’s horror stories of kids getting mauled after getting too close to the bison I made sure to put a truck between me and the giants. Their horns were the size of my head, and I’m sure I looked inviting.
The next turnoff was littered with more bison and some photographers were walking around them, so this time I was a little braver and rolled through the turnoff and rode next to the bison. They were just slowly making their way in one direction and would raise their heads just slightly to recognize my existence. I still consider my fear a healthy one. I’ll let the photogs do their job and I’ll just get a postcard.
After passing the Madison campground it was 16 miles to Old Faithful, something I hadn’t seen in almost 20 years. 20 years ago when I visited as a kid in the early 90s there wasn’t much there except the lodge originally built a while ago (don’t quiz me, Wiki will know the exact date, I’m saying early 1900s). Now it’s an expanse of a compound with cafeteria, clinic, additional lodging, cabins, employee recreation, more gift shops, and so on. I think there were 3 separate parking lots. The entrance to the geyser even had an overpass off the main road for easier vehicle access. The ranger would make an announcement over PA when the next eruption would be. When I went years ago there was just a clock hanging on a tree. As luck would have it, I arrived just in time for the geyser’s show. There were some ominous clouds in the background so it made for bad pictures. I later found that the clouds weren’t rain clouds but winter snow clouds… I bought some small stuff after another lunch and asked about the camping in the miles ahead. The ranger said they were all closed due to snow cover. The southern boy in me was incredulous that the sites were completely snow covered. There wasn’t any snow around Old Faithful! I checked the mileage, I would have another 45 miles and 3 passes to go over, and it was 7pm. Based on history it would put me into Teton around 10pm and at least 12 hours on the bike. I went over to the lodge and asked about what they had available - $500 for a suite. I think the kid behind the counter was also suffering from tourist fatigue and probably was wondering why this guy in tights didn’t make reservations earlier like everyone else (who was a boy scout).
I decided to head to Teton 45 miles away. As I reflect now, if you bike into Yellowstone, make sure it’s later in the summer when all the campgrounds are open. And no, I was not a boy scout in the early ages so preparing for something takes the fun out of the surprise, good or bad. Biking Yellowstone should be a separate trip, one could spend at least a week exploring the area.
As I crested the second pass and continental divide, the view of the mountains were starkly different than in Montana. Montana’s mountains had that romantic picturesque snow topped peaks above the tree line. In the southern part of Yellowstone, it was as if I stepped right into a very cold winter I had never seen as a southern boy from North Carolina. There was more snow on the ground than bare ground. Snow, in this case ranged between 1 and 5 feet with the immediate trees next to the road swallowed by the snow pushed to the side by plows. The snow clouds above which blocked out the sun I was accustomed to also set the mood. I’m not a winter fan so please understand I equate winter with death and seeing a 360 degree view of death was a little unnerving. All I had going for me was a little strip of asphalt that was wet which could potentially turn to ice like its brethren snow piled up all around me. My lifeline was going to freeze and I had to get off the mountain!
The 3 passes I needed to go over were a cinch, I’m not sure what the elevation gain was but it didn’t feel like much. At the time I didn’t know they were each continental divides so I was a little aggravated that I kept crossing it. Divides are inherently divisive, they indicate a difference between one side from another and would seem linear. They should not meander around like some kind of bumbling river. If I cross a divide, I should not have to cross it again until I get to North Carolina. It’s kind of like when I briefly went back into Idaho from Montana to get to Jackson, Montana, I was done with Idaho and did not want to move backwards. Only forward!
By the third pass the sun was starting to go down, I don’t think it was much of a pass at all. It was some sign stuck aimlessly along the road with little elevation change. Passes, like divides, should be divisive as well. This is the whole reason why people want to go over them. Southern Yellowstone reminded me more of the rolling hills in the Carolinas, which was fine with me as I rolled through them in the twilight hours.
I was also quickly reminded that animals feed at sundown. I saw the bison earlier, but then came the elk… and lots of meeses (moose for the grammatically unchallenged)! At long last, I saw the enigmatic moose. Now see, if I planned out everything like a boy scout, I wouldn’t have seen my moose because I would have already found a place to stay like a good boy by the evening’s animal show. Later on I saw a coyote walking along the road too, which made me wonder if I was going to be a target for wolves like the bartender from Jackson had warned. I told the coyote it could not eat me and it lowered its neck as if it were admitting the guilt of thinking it.
The southern part of Yellowstone is basically stuck in winter, and it’s a couple days from June. I was very surprised by the difference between the lazy creeks slurping through green grass and lumbering bison in the western part of the park. By 9pm the sun set over the very frozen (yes, patchy, but very frozen) Lewis Lake and the roads were wet from runoff which worried me if it were to freeze on my descent into Teton. Imagine the tension in my mind wondering if wolves were after me going 30 mph in the dark down broken pavement. My demons haunt me in so many forms. Cold and very wet, I was glad to arrive at my destination by 10pm. It was definitely a long day, and too dark to pitch a tent so I coughed up the dough for another cabin. But the day was rewarding, I wish I could have gotten better pictures of the sunset over Lewis Lake and the snow covered canyons, but you’ll just have to see them for yourself… or Flickr.
Calories today were a healthy bleu cheese burger with some kind of cheesy potato soup, a clif bar, a ham and cheese Panini, 20 oz of root beer, 20 oz of coke, 2 servings of Endurox, and a whole lotta water.
I can’t decide what I’m going to do tomorrow, maybe head further south about 30 miles to the next and more favorable campground in Teton or stay here in the northern part of the park. I imagine I’ll head south since I have to pack everything to leave this cabin anyways at a completely sensible $189 a night without a TV and internet. Last night had direct TV, fridge, and wifi for $54… Better than a $500 suite I suppose.
Yellowstone is in a transition and is at conflict with its own space and how people define it. I bought a bottle of wine at the Old Faithful grocery store. I suppose I could have capped it off with a night in a “suite”. People who come here want rugged yet the roads in Yellowstone seem to be the heaviest traveled I’ve experienced so far, especially by RV. People I observed won’t get so far as 30 feet from their car for a photo opportunity of a bird’s nest or bison. Then off to the next sight, and dammit there’s that biker again we just passed, let's buzz'em. Add to the image of trucks with campers attached to its bed. I felt like it was a redneck safari not far off from Disney’s animal kingdom concept… I bet there are plans for a wild sushi restaurant and massage for those laborious hours in the car. Either way, it’s indispensible education if people would stop and read the notes on the roadside about the history of the park. I think for most it’s just part of the bucket list.
BODY CHECK
After a week into the ride I thought I’d share some observances about my body. When I applied for life insurance they gave me a physical, I weighed 170 lbs which is heavy for me in May. I look as though I’ve lost around 10 lbs given the fat on the inside legs, lower abdomen, and around the creases of the arms have thinned. I look like a Klingon with my 3 striped helmet tan forehead. The tan lines on the arms and legs are incredible. My knees are benefitting from my experiment in OTC anti-inflammatory medication, I’ve settled on Aleve, which I credit for my day’s ride and ability to put in 150 miles. Everything else is fine. The undercarriage has healed and hardened from 950 miles on the bike. I fully expected to have trap pain, lower back pain, tricep pain, etc. All of these pains are eliminated because when I’m riding 30 miles in a straight line on a clean road, I just put my head down and go. In NC, there are too many potholes, broken pavement, rocks, parked cars (inside joke), and other obstacles to prevent a time trial style ride. The legs were a little tired today and threatened to cramp in the quads, a first for the ride.

Day 7 –Jackson, MT to Ennis, MT 120.79 miles

2009-05-29T21:29:00.000-07:00

I awoke in the morning yet again with my mouth hanging open without a drop of moisture. There must be a remedy for it. I hit the road at 9am with the intention of taking it slow to help the knees again. I was really worried the prior night that I wouldn’t make it to Denver. Images of me buying or renting a car entertained my mind. Fortunately, the knees were fine. I took more and longer rests while coasting longer down hills and it seemed to help. The pain is due to the rotation, not putting pressure on it.

I had 3 passes today. In Montana they don’t bother putting signage with altitude at the pass, I presume because they consider them hills at a paltry 7,000 +/- feet. I think the west to east route is an easier route to take, I probably coasted for about 40 miles today, which would have been a long day going the other way. The wind was with me today, and not a cloud in the sky.
I stopped for lunch in Dillon at a diner and picked the chili hamburger under the sandwich section. Unfortunately it came out looking kind of like a cheesy brown Salisbury steak without the gravy. It did the trick though, presentation aside I devoured every bit of it. From Dillon to Twin Bridges was actually mostly flat, for 28 miles. I finally saw this Beaver Head rock outcropping too, the namesake of so much national forest around the area. I’m never much good at making out our animal contrivances of nature’s rock formations but this thing actually looked like a beaver head.
The wind was with me again and 25 mph was the norm to Twin Bridges. Between Twin Bridges and Ennis I got my first finger from an oncoming motorcyclist. I laughed because he had work gloves on and his indignant motion was caught up in the glove fabric so it was awkward and took some time to get it done right. When it finally came to form the glove made the hand so big on such a little dude that it looked like Mickey Mouse. Why wear work gloves and no helmet? He must have pretty hands. The laugh from me was not the reaction he wanted I suppose…

Highway 278 is a road I’d like to spend more time on, there’s a lot of history here with some cool little towns. I got chased up the last pass into Ennis by a storm brewing so I couldn’t take a lot of pictures. Usually on a downhill my max speed with the load was 43 mph, the storm winds were 28 mph which pushed me to between 55 and 60 down the hill. Not cool with the occasional crosswind beating at the front wheel. It reminded me of the motions of recovering after hitting someone’s back wheel in a race.

Uneventful dinner at the sportsman lodge, I asked for an end piece of the special smoked prime rib. It tasted like a giant piece of jerky which was unique. $54 for a cabin was good too. If I planned this trip better I would have found more places to put up a tent, but getting mileage is the priority at the moment.

Early to bed this evening for an early start to beat the winds into Yellowstone. I can’t decide where I’m going to stay, since it’s Saturday I’m expecting that it’ll be tough for me to find something. Plus all the RVs on the road will make things interesting. It seems like the park caters to RVs. Randy from Hamilton told me to stop in West Yellowstone at a local shop there. Need some new bartape. I’m looking forward to the rest day with all the bison.
Calories today were 3 servings of Endurox, a whole lot of water, the chili burger and 2 fountain pepsis, 2 clif bars, the prime rib with clam chowder, side salad, and mashed taters. All good here.

Day 6 – Hamilton, MT to Jackson, MT 93.06 miles

2009-05-29T20:49:00.000-07:00

I awoke in Hamilton’s Best Western with my mouth wide open and not a drop of moisture in it, a strange feeling. Kind of aggravating too because I know it’s bad for my teeth. My sinuses were completely clogged, I had noticed the pine trees were pollinating and I’m sure the grass was too. I decided it would be a slow day, kind of a rolling rest day of sorts. My typical averages are around 15 – 16 mph. Today I would do 12ish. I had one pass at 7,200ish feet to get over and the rest of the day would roll into Jackson. Weather was perfect again, wind was in my face the first 30 miles but I accepted my wind fate the prior night.

To start the day I went over to the bike shop and met Randy. I bought a couple water bottles and had them put on a new chain, the other one was about shot as I had suspected. I was also out of the wonder potion Endurox and unfortunately they didn’t have any single servings. I bought the 4.5 lb jug and slung it on top of all my other mess on the rack. Kind of silly looking. I never tried the lime flavor before, it was quite tasty. It has a sour twang which provides a nice distraction on the road. Everyone in the shop came outside to look at the setup on the bike, they said they had seen a race bike loaded before but the guy was using some wheels that kept blowing spokes. The Mavic ES wheels I have are holding up perfectly. Randy said he has a set and loves them too. I was nervous of the wheels and frame at first after seeing them twist whenever I’m shifting the bike around me.
Randy mentioned that the Big Hole area (Wisdom/Jackson) can be buggy in a month (June) with Montana sized mosquitoes. I wasn’t looking forward to it, if they decided to come early. Bugs haven't been an issue so far.
So, now fully in Montana and not feeling sorry myself anymore like yesterday, I headed south on US-93 eager for the pass at the Montana/Idaho border. It wasn’t too bad. The views along the way and at the top were amazing. At the top is a rest area and visitor center. A ski area was also close by and reportedly closed about 6 weeks ago. The gentleman in the visitor center was very helpful and confirmed my suspicion that my original route of heading north from Wisdom may be a bad idea due to a section of road going out of Melrose was dirt and possibly closed.
Leaving US-93 for MT-43 changed things a bit, I maybe saw a car every 15 minutes. I was hoping to see some moose on the way down, unfortunately there were no meeses to be found. I passed the Big Hole battleground at 5pm when it closed unfortunately, but the plateau there affords some amazing views of the mountains to the east.
Rolling into Wisdom reminded me of Randy’s warning of Montana sized mosquitoes. The runoff from the mountains flooded the plains and there was standing patches of water everywhere for miles, future mosquito cess pools. Everything seems to be falling into place with the ride, I left early enough for this trip to avoid the bugs…
I was happy to see Jackson, my left knee did not want to do another 50 feet. There is a hot springs lodge there, and I was going to be part of it. I walked into the lodge and immediately felt out of place. I was in brightly colored tights, the 3 or so ranchers at the large bar to the right of me having a beer were not. Every game animal around the world adorned the walls. A full mountain lion was the center piece of the room, I thought they were maybe 50 lbs or so. This thing was as big as a mastiff, maybe 150-200 lbs. It would definitely knock me off my bike and eat me. The bartender was an ex-Ranger who was knowledgeable about hunting in the area. It would be fun to hunt in the area but -30 degree temperatures to achieve such fun would surely negate the said fun factor. Since I was the only visitor to the lodge, the restaurant/maintenance folks treated me as a fly on the wall as they discussed their desires and I would chime in for clarification. Such as my belief that moose were aggressive. One of the employees had a pet moose when she was younger, and pointed to a picture hanging on the wall behind the bar of the moose eating from a kitchen table. Apparently this moose thought it was a dog.
The bartender told a story about getting chased by wolves to his house and how they run in packs to attack. The wolves in the area reportedly are taking down horses and cattle. At the time he was on horseback and on full gallop to get to the house as the horse understood the house was safety too. When they were almost to the house a second pack of wolves tried to flank them from another direction. He turned into them and split the attack to make it home. The moral of the story was he warned you should have some kind of firearm to protect yourself. He explained the 150 lb wolves in the area were not afraid of humans and the population was out of control. He said PETA was responsible for it, if you shoot a wolf you have to stay with it until the game warden arrives, maybe days later. If there’s evidence that you were hunting the wolf, you would be arrested. To cap the night off, the bartender shared a secret stash of local beef jerky. Quite tasty, folks around here are proud of their jerky.
Time got away from me and I didn’t have time to visit the hot springs in the lodge. I’d recommend the lodge, supposedly it’s already booked through August on the weekends.
Calories today were 4 servings of Endurox (trying to eat my way through that 4.5 lb jug), 2 bowls of Cheerios, 12 oz of OJ, 8 oz beef fillet, ice cream sundae, side salad, 80 oz of water, 60 oz of local brew, and a couple sticks of jerky.
Tomorrow I’m headed to Ennis, MT. 118 miles I believe. I like Montana, time is relative here, and no sales tax.

Day 5 Bitterroot Wilderness, ID to Hamilton, MT 124.01 miles

2009-05-28T00:27:00.000-07:00

The days seem to get harder, probably because I forget the actual feelings of prior days. But, no one should have to do two consecutive uphill days in a row. I misjudged my placement leading up to Lolo Pass by about 10 or so miles. I thought I had 40 to go. Adding extra insult the wind was in my face for the 50 miles up to the top. The views were great, but after 160 miles of going around the bend and around the bend again, I was ready to leave the mountains. Just as I was about to get to Lolo Pass at 5,200 +/- feet (not a lot of snow this time like Chinook) I met my first cross country cyclist headed to Florida, and later met a couple more at the top. They were supported and from Iowa/Illinois. They told stories of close calls and diving off the road to avoid getting hit. I didn’t have any to share. So far I had one car buzz me which was today, and 6 hecklers total for the entire ride, mostly all from the Seattle area. I don’t know what they’re doing different to draw the ire of drivers. For the equivalent 500 miles I get buzzed and heckled in Charlotte far more in that amount of space. US-12 has been great. One of the cyclists also said he was out of tubes, I offered one of mine since I only used one due to a bur imbedded into the front tire back at the hotel in Kennewick. He declined saying he had a patch kit. Personally I wouldn’t patch a tube when I would rely on it to keep me loaded upright on a downhill at 40 mph…
The downhill into Lolo, MT was easy, 25mph was the norm with the wind at my back. It was nice country with signs of moose crossings. I rolled into the intersection at US-93 and saw the wind in the 8 ft length US flags on the buildings indicating my southbound journey was going to be a hard one. I elected to stop and eat at the McDonald’s at the intersection. There was a casino there too along with a gas station and gift shop in the same building, so let me take a moment to vent: A casino has tables with dealers, a gaming hall has a bunch of electronic equipment that takes your money. There should be some kind of truth in labeling for gambling because I did not see humans. That’s my definition, probably not someone else’s.
So, of the 124 miles I rode today, maybe 35 were downhill. Like I said, no one should have to do two days of uphill. I did 125 miles yesterday, and about 90 today with a headwind. I should have done my homework a little more, southbound US-93 is all uphill, and where you can see the trees in the Carolinas to know the profile of the hills you are riding through, the Montana hill was just uphill with no profile to see if it was going to end. It just kept going. I would say to myself, “I’ll take a rest when I get to the top of that hill”, and when I did, there’s just more uphill. And, 15 mph wind in my face. I passed a woman loaded on a bike turning onto the highway, I think she said something to me but I kept pushing. I wanted to get somewhere with no wind. Plus, forget about the bike path provided if you’re loaded, you’ll also need a flotilla to get through the flooded parts. When I arrived in Hamilton an hour later than I thought I would, the desk attendant at the Days Inn (very nice) warned me of the hill I will face in the morning. Which is fine. I always love a good challenging hill like Chinook Pass, it was a pleasant surprise. Pointless uphills in the wind on broken tar patched pavement aggravates me.
Maybe what’s got me in a tiff is I went to the local brewery in town and it had closed at 8. I had tried to get in town by 7 but the wind and relentless uphill kept me from getting to Hamilton. The 10-12 hour days on the bike is tiring, I think I’m good for 100 miles or 6-8 hours. Anything after those parameters and I’m susceptible to sour moods brought on by environmental factors. I tried to sing my way through it with the blackberry but it was just through my teeth.
Twitter and Facebook folks have asked how I’m holding up. I apologize for not getting back to every inquiry individually, but here’s the overall basis of what I’ve done so far in concerns to my body:
On Day 1 I used the Chamois butt’r twice and it seemed to work. I neglected the second application on Day 2 and I’m still paying for it. I had a nickel sized blister burst a couple days ago and last night I awoke a couple times with some biting pains in the undercarriage. I went to Safe-Way today and bought some hydrogen peroxide, I’m a big fan of it and I know I’ll sit just right in the morning. As a reference for overall saddle time, I’m riding between 10-12 hours a day, so I think 3 applications of chamois butt’r should work.
When I get off the bike, the first thing I do is fill up the “dirty” water bottle (the water bottle with extra ingredients as opposed to the other one I never mix anything in) with Endurox for recovery. I haven’t had any muscle cramping or soreness to prevent performance. I have noticed an overall decrease in output though.
I typically do heavy carbs during the day with protein in the evening. I was thinking today that I haven’t had any cramps as I sometimes do, especially now that I’m swinging my leg over all my gear to mount the bike. If I did that after a race I would be on the ground in pain. I haven’t had any fruit in days, which I thought has been a big source of potassium to assuage any cramps. Maybe it doesn’t help.
During the ride I stretch the calves and also after the ride. I used to stretch the quads but I think it aggravates the tendons in my knees. I don’t stretch them anymore and I don’t have the knee problems (specific to that area in the knee, the problems I have now are due to gearing I believe)
My knees are my biggest problem right now which I assume is due to gearing. I’m running a 48 (I think, not a compact) on a 12/27. I could use some more teeth every now and then. My knees are reminding me of it each night.
Today’s calorie intake is a good one: 64 oz Powerade, ~120 oz of water, 1 clif bar, 1 McD’s Big-n-Tasty burger (x all the stuff added on it), Med Fry, a M&Ms McFlurry, a SafeWay ham & cheese sub, a chef salad x eggs, and 96 oz of beer.
Tomorrow’s trek is going to be very hard, all uphill and into the wind. I’m going to try for Jackson, MT at 91 miles. It’s 2 hours and 9 minutes according to Google. It’s a shorter day because of losing an hour in Mountain Time. I also want to hang out for a bit and visit a local bike shop next to the Best Western I’m staying in Hamilton. I think my chain’s lifespan is reaching a zenith. Let’s hope for the best.

Day 4 – Lewiston, ID 125.26 miles into the US-12 Wilderness of Idaho

2009-05-27T23:12:00.000-07:00

Today was an amazing day, albeit painful. I am now nursing some burst blisters on the undercarriage. My large toes, pinkies, and ring fingers are losing feeling to the touch, making typing kind of difficult. The wind was mostly at my back again and the sunshine was a warm mid 70s to low 80s.
I awoke early, 5:00am, which put me on the road at 7am. I could feel my temperament change as I was taking even more pictures and stopping at various sites along US-12. Given I was looking forward to getting into the mountains and through the US-12 which is a fantastic scenic road for Lewis and Clark. I’ve driven part of the 12 in Utah and I’d like to bike it someday. From Lewiston the mile markers for US-12 started at zero so it was very easy to keep track of my progress, and it was all uphill following the Snake, Clearwater, and other rivers I can’t think of the names of right now. The road was in bad condition, which made speed difficult. US-12 is the Lewis and Clark trail which I felt it a privilege to ride along this part of American history. The waters along the way had to be at least 6-10 feet above normal, I took pictures of the river’s extreme violence and the rapids can only be described in pictures.
I met a hiker along the way who was trying to hitch through the long stretch of US-12 to Missoula. He had hiked the entire US-12 in some form or another. He was from Massachusetts and seemed to do this kind of thing a lot. He had been hitching rides for 20-30 mile intervals and was full of stories about his encounters. A nice fellow, I gave him my card which joined a zip lock bag full of other business cards, napkins, pieces of paper, and other items people bestowed upon him in the hopes of hearing from him again. He said he met someone while on the beginning of his hike cycling 50 miles a day from Latin America up to California. Not for me (Locked up Abroad TV)! We had a roadside conversation with my bike in the middle of a lane so we kept it brief. I took a picture of him and was on my way, on my third stroke down someone was already picking him up. Several miles later he and the (cute female with 2 mountain bikes) driver caught up with me, this time with more roadside conversation on the move. He quizzed me if I remembered where he was going, I said US-12. He explained he was heading back home to Massachusetts, and to “check out this girl’s license tag”… Sure enough, a tag I hadn’t seen in these parts… He asked if I raced in the MA area, maybe I will see him again.
There was considerable construction going on around the Lowell area. One stop at a single lane closure gave me the option of putting my bike in the back of one their escort "pilot" construction trucks or to follow it. I chose to follow and motordraft. It was nice, they were obviously oblivious to the danger of a bicyclist riding 2 feet off the back of a truck in a construction zone with loose gravel. I quickly learned to stay in the middle of the tracks. They asked me how fast I would like to go after they explained the last cyclist had to stop for a breather and I said 25mph, the driver looked incredulous, “you know it’s for 2.5 miles?” That's just an interval... She went 22 at first, then I started taking pictures... then sped up to 25 to keep my attention. Then after clearing the lane closure she went to 30. I wasn’t going to pass the opportunity for more easy mileage so I followed until she pulled off. I got some head nods from traffic and the construction workers, all for fun.
Continuing up the highway after 125 miles my knees would not support my cycling habit anymore, so I turned off at a campsite with many places for fires. There are a lot of kayakers here, and none seem too friendly.
Calories today were 96 oz of Powerade, a chicken/bean burrito and some chips/salsa from a Mexican restaurant, handful of beef jerky and trail mix, 60 oz of water, and a clif bar.

Day 3 - Kennewick, WA to Lewiston, ID 136.67 miles

2009-05-25T21:59:00.000-07:00

Day 3 was much better than the first. The weather was cooler than yesterday, low to mid 80s I think rather than the 90s in the Yakima Valley. The wind was again at my back for the most part, which made uphills very easy. One section of a pass blew me up at 25mph that normally would keep me at 10mph. To start the ride my knees reminded me they would like some time off the bike, they would get none today. The ride down Canal Street in Kennewick was beautiful, the road is propped up about 100 feet or so above the river which gave tremendous views over Pasco. It's Memorial Day so they decorated the bridges with Old Glory.

My ride through Ice Harbor Road was anything but what the name suggests, kind of like Iceland. There were apple orchards that gave way to wineries which finally after 20 miles out or so gave to wheat fields... and more wheat fields. I took a picture of an area I thought closely resembles the green field with blue sky landscape on Windows XP's wallpaper. After arriving in Waitsburg via US-12 I ran across a sign saying "Brewery ahead", thinking of the humor I stopped to take a picture of the sign and kept riding. I was almost past the brewery before I thought it would be good to stop in and see what's... brewing. It was a local brewery, which of course I had to stop. I met some government workers who work consists of traveling cross country, one from Knoxville explained I had quite the hill to climb to Lewiston. Later I would find the hill to be a somewhat modest 2,200 feet. Another couple were locals who went shrooming up in the Blue mountains. The beer was good, a no nonsense proud to be here kind of place, I respect it and the beer! Even better, the ride was much easier and I was in good spirits. I had the expectation I would run into places like these along the way more often than I had.

US-12 is a fantastic road, everyone is very friendly and some are even encouraging, unless a thumbs up means something else. I can't wait to see what is to come.

I tried something new, listening to music while I was riding. At first I used an Ipod Shuffle and then switched to the Blackberry once the battery ran out on the Ipod. I think the battery in the BB lasts longer, but I'll get to test that theory in the next few days. I was in a better mood and took a lot more pictures. I did miss one picture though, it was a handpainted sign saying "No peddlers or salesman, shot on sight", with another sign next to it with a cartoonish bull taking a dump and a red X over it. I was wondering if by peddlers he also included my kind.

I think it may have taken me a couple days to settle in and get used to riding 8 - 10 hours a day though. I feel better, although my knees still suffer from pedaling to hard on day 1. I noticed today at the restaurant some peculiar veins at the bottom of my calf I had not seen before...

Today's calories consisted of 66 oz of Powerade, 128 oz of water. 1/2 a clif bar, a handful of beef jerky, a beef brisket sub and handful of chips, 72 oz of ale, and a 1 lb burger which was totally awesome - it was a full 1 lb patty on an oversized bun. No I didn't finish it, I am not man enough.

Day 4 sends me in to the wilderness, it will be a day or two before I return to civilization.

Day 2 - Chinook Pass to Kennewick, WA 138.51 miles

2009-05-25T08:19:00.000-07:00

Today I thought was going to be an easy day since I would travel east off of the mountain on a downhill for miles. However 138 miles through the desert presented a whole set of new challenges than just pedaling up hill like yesterday. The calorie intake was noticeably different too. Yesterday's food was a turkey/ham sandwich and side salad, a handful of trail mix, 64 oz of Gatorade, 64 oz of water and 3.5 clif bars. Today was 96 oz of Gatorade, 96 oz of water, 1/3 lb of beef jerky, 3.5 clif bars, Red Robin's A1 burger, Red Robin's Sante Fe burger, 32 oz of light beer, and about 150 oz of water. And I was still dehydrated...

It was amazingly hot through the Yakima Valley. I noticed between the two days my body seems to give out after 6 hours on the bike, managing an average about 13mph. Two of my fingers are going numb, and I already have some killer tan lines. It's also allergy season in WA causing my head to feel like it's hit with a sledgehammer. The Zyrtec isn't helping much this time.

Angels are cyclists. I met one today west of Yakima. I explained where I was going (on 24 to Moxee) and he said we were going the same way. He had to make a call and said he would meet me later. After riding 20 miles through hops farms he finally caught me and we sat for a bit while I recounted my short time on the bike. He liked the mouse story, he explained their aggressiveness in the mountains. It was the first time I had looked back and I could still see Mt Ranier, probably 60 miles away. The cyclist explained his wife was going to pick him up to head to Kennewick for the evening. He looked at my gear and had a concern for the amount of water I was carrying, and the route I was taking via Othello. He explained there were military and nuclear installations (Google maps didn't show it) and security around the area were extremely anxious of visitors. He said there were signs along the way saying no one can stop on the roadside. We separated and rode for another 20 miles at which his wife drove by to pick him up. I stopped again and was down to my last water bottle. He had extra water in the car which I made good use of it! We discussed the route again which he said there would be no water for 70 or so miles, and not much for civilization. I decided to change the route and follow the Columbia river to Kennewick. Not much of a change in mileage, maybe 20 or so, it's just closer to water!

Day 1 - Seattle (Fremont) to 6 miles east of Chinook Pass, WA 106.9 miles

2009-05-25T08:01:00.000-07:00

Rookie mistakes and wonderful weather 5/23/09

With a strong wind at my back I couldn't complain about a lot. Since this is my first overnighter I knew there would be some surprises along the way, I just wasn't prepared for the amount. Call them rookie mistakes. I know that I should try something new, be it gear, food, etc, without testing it before heading out on a 3,600 mile journey, that I was prepared for.

Seattle to Chinook Pass (5,243 ft) seemed for the most part to be uphill. Seattle had some amazing knee busters... and then came the rookie mistakes. I had attached the tire pump to the inside of the seatpost and it seemed there was enough clearance from the tire. After 9 miles in the pump had dropped onto the tire and made pedaling extremely difficult. Fortunately the plastic on the pump was softer than the tire causing the pump to receive most of the damage (inconsequential compared to a tire)

Rook mistake 2 came about 40 miles into the ride. I checked in April to make sure highway 410 would be open by the time I passed, which the website said it would. Later I would find out they had opened it the day before I came through. Unfortunately a large section of Hwy 169 was closed which caused me an extra 20 miles in detour. Thanks to Google maps for helping me around it while other cyclists were backtracking!

Rookie mistake 3 was a culmination of pounding out the Seattle hills and then trying to do the same on Mt Ranier. Grinding out 70 miles uphill murdered my knees, I should have gone a little easier and slowed down, 50 lbs of gear was something I wasn't used to carrying.

Rookie mistake 4 occurred in making camp at the American River just east of Chinook Pass. I awoke at 3 am to scratching around my head, I turned on my light and saw some holes in my trail mix. I noted my tent zipper was not completely closed, so I closed it and turned out the light. A minute later more scratching and to my surprise there were mice jumping on the mesh tent window and sliding down into where the hole used to be. I later learned from another cyclist that the mice were particularly aggressive on Mt Ranier.

It took me 3 hours to break camp the next morning, disappointing!

Item list for SEA to CLT

2009-05-22T09:48:00.000-07:00

What's it take to go coast to coast on a bicycle? This is what I estimate:

CLOTHES
2 kits (bib/jersey), 1 winter bib, 2 sets of arm warmers, 1 set of leg warmers, 1 base layer, 1 "carbon" pants and jacket, 1 set of toe warmers, 1 balaclava, 1 bandanna, 1 set of winter gloves, 1 set of 3 season gloves, 2 cotton shirts, 3 pairs of socks, 2 nylon shorts, 1 pair sandals (for the Teva tan), 1 pair sunglasses, 1 pair of cycling shoes

CAMP
1 golf towel (as I was leaving I just grabbed it), 1 thermarest pad, 1 tadpole tent, 1 cats meow 20 degree sleeping bag, 3 varied sizes stuff bags, 50 ft paracord, 5 varied sizes bungees, 1 8x10 tarp, 1 6 pack collapsible cooler, 3 cups of grits, 3 cups Endurox, 3 cups Perpetuem, 2 1 qt bags, 2 1 gal bags, 1 Coleman 5 pc mess kit, 1 MSR superfly stove,, 1 variety spice, 1 hobo tool (knife spoon fork), 1 toothbrush, 5 floss picks, 2 caribeners, 1 rag, 1 travel pillow, 2 sets of ear plugs, 1 pen light keychain, 1 Petzl light, 1 96 oz Nalgene water canteen, 2 oz shampoo, .5 oz toothpaste, 6 AAA batteries, 1 battery for speedometer, 1 razor, 1 set of quick wipes, lighter, 1 camp fuel, 1 note pad and pen, 1 bottle o' ibuprofen, 1 bottle o' Zyrtec, bug spray/sunblock/chapstick

BIKE
2 water bottles, 1 patch kit, 4 tubes, 1 tire, 1 water bottle & filter (Katadyne), 12 spokes, 1 spoke wrench, 1 oz Dumonde bike lube, 1 cable lock, 1 helmet, 3 oz chamois butt'r, 1 set of allen wrenches, 1 leatherman, 1 multitool, 1.5 sets of cleats, 1 precut chain w/quick link, 1 derailleur and brake cable

ELECTRONICS
1 X61 Lenovo laptop, 1 AC adapter for Lenovo, 1 broadband card, 1 Blackberry Pearl, 1 Nikon D60 DSLR camera, 1 AC adapter for D60, 1 tripod, 1 Nikon Elph camera, 1 AC adapter for Elph, 1 USB cord, 1 extra battery for Pearl, ear phones, 1 Ipod shuffle

We weighed in 38 lbs of gear before I left excluding the electronics and some other items such as the food/consumables, so I expect to have close to 50 lbs.

Will attach a pic later.

Utility payments and late fees

2009-05-19T04:37:00.000-07:00

With late fees and over the limit fees reaching $39 it pays to be on time. On top of paying interest rates at an average of 13.54% in 2008, the future value of your earnings diminishes with each passing month. Think of it as gambling with the credit card companies, you're wagering you'll have a job longer than they'll be in business to pay these future earnings.

Duke Energy is offering a fixed payment plan, they average your utility bill and round up, plus assess a convenience fee for the service. Why not just pay your own fixed payment through your online bill pay and avoid the fee and gross up? Simply round your payment up on a $50 increment. This way you have addressed late fees, interest, and sometimes you'll have enough paid in to skip a month.

Insurance

2009-05-18T20:10:00.000-07:00

In preparation for my trip, today I secured a life insurance policy to provide for my wife and cover expenses for anything and everything from debts to living expenses.

Remember you should have insurances to address the risk in your life that will affect others, whether it be your health, covering home mortgages, the operations of your business, care for you in assisted living, and so on. It's a consideration for your loved ones.

Now, on to the several tasks at hand for this week.

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2009-01-06T09:27:00.000-08:00

This blog will hold the cycling exploits and other items of interest for James Good.