July saw me in Colorado with my Dad doing the "Tour of Colorado". So instead of doing Terry’s 600 km I was enjoying some of the best high mountain (road) cycling I have ever experienced.  I figured it would be no problem making up the ride, in fact, I targeted the BC 600 km in August as the most likely candidate.  Well, work got in the way of that ride so suddenly I was faced with putting on my own 600.  I had a copy of the BC 600 which started in New Wesmister and headed in a clock-wise loop through Newhalem, Arlington, Bellingham and points in-between.  I switched the course around to start in Arlington and to go in the opposite direction (a task that proved to be pretty difficult.)

Larry Ricker proposed the Fall 600 km tradition in the newsletter so our date was set for September 12 and 13.  I was a little nervous about putting on the ride, but I was REALLY nervous about doing the ride.  I decided to spend the night at the Arlington Motor Inn (the start line) so that I wouldn't have to get up at 2:30 a.m. to make it in time for the 5:00 a.m. start.  Max had the same idea so I strolled over to the mini-mart and bought her some nutter butters for good luck.  I hoped to get a good nights rest, but the butterflies in my stomach had a different plan.  Just what I needed; a 375 mile ride on no sleep!

The 5:00 a.m. start saw Max Maxon, Bob Magyar, Dave Johnson, Pete "the bullet" Bajema, and myself lining up in the dark and fog.  Pete and I had agreed to ride together, so I knew this would not be a leisurely ride.  Our small group headed east on SR 530 to our first control at Darrington then north to highway 20.  At Rockport we turned right and rode up to Newhalem.  I spent the night in this little town on a Cycle America trip several years ago.  I have fond memories of hiking behind the little dam east of town.  They have the waterfalls and trails lit with all these funky, colored lights.  Of course there was only time to get our control cards signed and take care of necessary business this time before we were blasting down 20 on our way to Sedro Woolley.

We passed Dave going the other way just outside of town so he was about fifteen minutes behind us.  Then, a ways farther we passed Max (hell-bent-for-fury) peddling towards Newhalem.  I tried to chase her down to tell her that the Sumas border might not be open 24 hours (it was), a fact that Pete brought up on our way to Newhalem (good timing).  Luckily Bob came along shortly behind Max because I could not catch her.  We passed the concern on to him and continued down the road.

Of course, one of the reasons Max was clipping along so fast was the tail-wind she had which meant Pete and I were facing a head-wind; yuck!  About 10k outside of Sedro the lack of sleep and food caused me to really question doing this ride and randonneuring in general.  I must say that every brevet I have done this year I have had this kind of negative period.  Each time the lack of food has been the major culprit in contributing to my foul mood.  If I had been by myself I would have turned south and dragged tail home.  Luckily, some fuel at the control point, a call home for some words of encouragement ("What do you mean quit?!?  I've been bragging to everyone what a stud you are!"), and a stern look from Pete caused my dark mood to do a complete 180.  We had covered 205K in 7:15, only 400 km to go.  I knew the pace would not be as fast for the rest of the ride but physically, we both felt great.

The ride pointed north up highway 9 along roads I had never been before.  The day was bright and sunny and the sky was the clearest blue I had ever seen.  We could see the twin sisters peaks off to the right and all around were beautiful sights and sounds.  I kept thinking of John Wagner’s statement; "This is quite simply why I ride a bicycle."  We made a quick stop at Nugents Corner to refuel and continued on some very nice back roads to the border crossing at Sumas.  I had never been up to this part of Canada and I was looking forward to the ride along the Fraiser River.  I figured it would be scenic and peaceful.  I was dead wrong.  There must be more Harley Davidsons per capita in BC than there are boats per capita in Seattle.  The 100 km from Mission to New Westminster and back was like riding 100 km along Aurora ave.  I would not recommend this course without replacing this section because of the traffic noise and debris on the shoulder.  The view of Mt. Baker acted like gravity pulling us back home.

By the time we reached Mission for the second time, my right knee started hurting in the same way that my left knee hurt last year; not a good sign.  We peddled through the border and headed to Pete’s house in Bellingham.  We stumbled into his house to the wary look of Pete’s wife, Kim.  After a couple hours of shut-eye and a change of clothes, we were off.  I felt good, thinking the ice bag and Advil had cured my knee pain.  That lasted until I stood on the first hill going up Chuckanut drive.  I was relegated to seated climbing and soft pedaling for the last 150K of the ride.  I guess I picked the wrong time to switch my 13-28 to a 12-25.

We met up with Dave on Chuckanut who had leap-frogged us while we rested.  We rode together pretty much until the end of the ride.  I was quite upset that my knee hurt during this last part of the ride because it was the hilliest but also because the pain distracted me from enjoying the beautiful scenery from Oak Harbor through Mt. Vernon and Stanwood and back to Arlington.  In the end, though, I had enough steam to sprint the last ¼ mile to make it in under 29 hours; Whew!

NW Winter Warning 1998-1999

Bob Kraski, Mayor of Arlington and Chairman of the Snohomish County Emergency Management stated that the coming winter will be the "WORST WINTER IN 40 to 50 YEARS." This information was clearly reinforced by meteorologist/ climatologist Mike McCallister who shared information collected over time relating to the water temperature of the equatorial Pacific. The summary explanation is that the warm water "depository" in the Pacific that moderates the winters of the Northwest is gone this year.  This will cause the Jet Stream to rise sharply up the Asian coast, into the Arctic and straight down toward Washington.  The possibility of error is based on the fact that there has been 16 consecutive months of record breaking warm weather and the fact that there is global warming.  However, Mr. McCallister stated that his prediction of extreme winter is reliable in the 80-90% range.  He reminded us that in 1916-17 and in 1949-50 there was 6-10 feet of snow accumulation.

WHAT WE CAN EXPECT:
· October - early December: Early heavy snow with a high potential for warming and flooding.
· Late December - March: High temperatures in the upper 30's /lows in the upper 20's.  Frequent, heavy snow falls that will not melt, but accumulate, potentially up to 100"
· Frequent wind storms in the 50-70 mph range.
· March - April: Spring warming and flooding.
· Potential for prolonged power outages.  Prolonged periods (weeks or more) of below zero temperatures.
· The "Arctic express" weather regularly experienced in Whatcom County could reach as far as Pierce County.

Bill Dussler gave his treasurer's report.  The club has a current balance of about $2000.  If you are interested in the details please contact Bill.
 

Larry Ricker proposed the following changes to the SIR Charter.  The changes reflect benefits to the membership that include new services and improved service for communication and dissemination of information from our new national randonneuring organization.  The changes were seconded, voted on and passed.

• Item I.2 is currently:
• SIR will be affiliated with the International Randonneurs and Randonneurs Mondiaux.
• Change item I.2 to:
• SIR will be affiliated with Randonneurs USA (RUSA) and Randonneurs Mondiaux.

• Item III.2 is currently:
• The SIR membership shall consist of all people whose names are on the SIR roster, who have paid their dues for the current calendar year, and are members in good standing of International Randonneurs.
• Change item III.2 to:
• The SIR membership shall consist of all people whose names are on the SIR roster, who have paid their dues for the current calendar year, and are members in good standing of a national randonneuring organization such as RUSA.

Vanessa Jensen, the jersey artist/designer, attended the GM to meet the members and answer design questions.  Final design options were presented, agreed upon, and order deposits were taken.  Everyone was extremely pleased if not excited about the new jersey.  The order window will remain open until November 13th.  Members not in attendance will be mailed an order form.  Updated information will be on the SIR web site shortly.  The exact final cost will be depend upon the total quantity ordered.  This is a one-time order so the club will buy approximately 10 beyond the final count for future new members, etc.  This will put SIR at risk for about $600.
 

Officer elections were next, Larry presiding

The two open officer positions were RBA and Newsletter Editor.
E. Max Maxon and Pete Bajema were nominated and elected.  Bill Dussler was unopposed as Treasurer and will serve his third term in 1999.
 

Larry distributed Brevet cards and medals

Brevet cards were returned for the following 1998 events:  200, 300 & fleche.  Still to be returned:  400 and 600.  Ron Lee and Lynne V. Are still owed a 600 km medal (which are on order).  Anyone who has yet to receive a medal for a 1998 event should notify Larry R.

Those who were not at the meeting will get their cards in the mail, probably at year's end.  Remember to keep you cards!  They are official proof that you completed the event.  You will need the brevet number on the card when you apply for PBP, Randonneur 5000, etc.
 

A group meeting is forthcoming to discuss travel and accommodation options for those planning to attend PBP '99.  Date and location will be announced soon. Max and John will set it up.
 

TerryZ offered to host a PBP video viewing party.  Space is limited to about 20 people.  Date to be determined.
Max will work on a viewing party at her health club.  TVs will be set up in front of stationary bicycles.

"Security is mostly a superstition.  It does not exist in nature, nor do children of humankind as a whole experience it.  Avoiding danger is no safer in the long run than outright exposure.  Life is either a daring adventure or it is nothing at all."  Helen Keller.

"Carelessness is a self-correcting problem."

One rider stopped at a gas station during the Texas midday heat (115 degrees) to apply eye drops to his burning eyes.  He was standing by the motorcycle trying to apply the drops, but they didn’t seem to be helping.  Then he realized he hadn’t removed his sunglasses.  "Drops were streaming off my glasses and onto my leathers," he recalled.  "I looked up and saw a woman standing there, holding the hand of her son.  They were staring at me as though I were from Mars, decked out in full leathers in searing heat while pouring drops on my glasses and laughing like a jackass."

In this Issue:
600 km Results & Ride Account
Rocky Mountain 1200
BMB
Bits and Pieces

On a clear morning at 4 am, July 18th nineteen randonneurs cued up at TerryZ's home for the start of this year's SIR 600 km brevet.  The tough Stevens Pass/N. Cascades route was aborted due to unavailable motel space in Winthrop.  TerryZ resourcefully came up with what looked an excellent alternate route by piecing together sections of previous SIR brevets.

A moderately fast pace and later warm temperatures took its toll on the way to Rainy Pass (elv. 4855) via Arlington and Rockport controls.  I became particularly concerned on the upper reaches of the Rainy climb when after 6 riders passed me and none were descending from the turn around control atop Rainy.  What was going on, were they being abducted by space aliens or was I spacing out and missed them?  When Ron went by, cheater using a triple, he mentioned that Larry had taken a fall but appeared to be OK.  His ride was finished when the paramedics took him away for closer observation.  Now Guy, my riding partner, had to stop and take a long but necessary break from overheating, I continued on and on and on.  When finally cresting the pass my computer showed 5 miles more than the cue sheet distance and the missing rider mystery was also solved.  There they were, all of them, sitting in the shade of Terry's support van canopy in various states of disrepair.  Some had been hanging out for over an hour trying to gather their faculties to continue back down this retched hill.  Hwy. 20 is one of our state's most scenic roads and this section through the Cascade mountains rivals any thing, anywhere, in my opinion.  Snow covered nine thousand foot peaks abound.  Mountain lakes, meadows of wild flowers, streams and water falls line the road that was only just carved out 25 years ago due to the challenges of the rugged terrain.  Unfortunately not many of us enjoyed all this natural beauty on today's climb, survival was predominate.  A tail wind contributed to the struggle, effectively placing the rider in still air, negating any evaporative cooling effect from the wind.  Five of us, Rick, Ron, Bill, Eric and myself, set out to battle the headwind and descent.  The shear rock walls and canyons along parts of the road causes the wind to swirl around and bang you from all directions.  This is especially true on the fastest sections (50 mph +), making for erratic bike handling and more thrills then most riders desire.  I have experienced the buffeting moving me sideways on numerous occasions and have yet to enjoy the sensation.

Secure at the bottom, another in a long long line of long breaks was spent at the Newhalem Grocery.  Every thing in the store looked good so I picked up Yogurt, peanuts, V8 juice, a burrito (they were out of hot dogs), coke and fresh plums.  Eighteen miles later we stopped in Marblemount at the Buffalo Run for a real dinner.  Another eighteen miles and a mandatory stop at the Concrete control was required.  This was a sleep control and any thought of riding through the night vanished when we saw the motel beds.  Ken, Randy and Dan decided to push on but eventually succumb to the demons of sleep depravation by Bellingham.  We were also informed our intrepid friend Max had to abandoned after blistering her feet on the Rainy climb.  What a shame, the hardest part was behind or so we thought.  Standing outside the motel room at 11 pm Melissa was chewing on a bagel when we noticed a pickup truck next door with three large (70 lbs size) floppy ear hunting hounds peering out of a big box with 3 cut out head holes.  The scene looked like a billboard to me.  Melissa asked if she should feed them a bagel.  I suggested it wasn't a good idea but she walked over to take a closer look.  Having second thoughts about befriending the beasts she tossed the bagel into the box.  A ugly sounding fight erupted shaking the truck and breaking the evening's serenity.  I half expected the dogs owner to come out and start whopping on 'em, just because they needed it.  After three hours of deep sleep we started down the road only to stop at a AM/PM in Sedro Woolley for breakfast #1.  I cleaned out the hot dog bin and was standing at the front door waiting to exit as soon as the person on the other side came in.  It took a while before realizing I was looking at my own reflection.

It was now dawn on Sunday and a light drizzle felt good on our way to Bellingham.  Where 13 hours earlier I was cursing my way up Rainy Pass now riding was a pure delight.  Making 20 mph up Route 9, no traffic, chatting with friends and in beautiful farm country.  This is simply why I ride a bicycle.  It wasn't long before we stopped at a "Hippie style" restaurant that Melissa suggested in Bellingham for breakfast #2.  On the way down Chuckanut Dr. I lost contact with our group when I had to stop and administer first aid to a pain in my butt. It turned out to be a half dollar size broken blister, ow!  For the next 125 miles I was never in danger of falling asleep. The slightest shifting of seat position sent a strong message of "don't do that."  Coincidentally, a few days prior I read a discussion in UltraCycling between our own Vince S. and Ken C. about the care of one's derrière on long rides.  Bag Balm was the central topic.  I use Asso cream, which let me down for the very first time.  Out came the Bag Balm, even after the fact it brought some relief.

Down in the Skagit Valley I came across Eric, Pete and Wayne looking lost and confounded by the confusing route instructions.  We were following part of an old 300 K brevet in reverse and the street name was different at each end, local knowledge was required.  Everyone regrouped within a few miles at the next control for lunch.  We were now within 5 hours of finishing and everyone seemed to find extra energy.  Rick's 3 flats were history but a noisy bottom bracket gave yet another cause for concern.  A final stop at the Granite Falls control for refueling then onto the wonderful back country rolling lake Rosesiger terrain used by Rick's 200 K brevet.  At Monroe Melissa took the lead to the finish.

What looked fairly easy on paper turned out to be very demanding and I'm still pondering why.  It wasn't just me, all the finishing times were slow.  After a shower, pasta and lots of liquid at Terry's I began feeling more positive about the last 38 hours.  Most everyone hung around Terry’s kitchen, where the food an drink was, recounting their experiences before departing.  Hearing the final three, Ron L., Lynne and Robert (all rookies) were close to finishing I decided to wait and congratulate them for a difficult job well done.
Thank you Terry for the memories.

The start of the 600 km was the same as the end of the 400 km.  The 19 starters all paraded out from Terry's house past Paradise Lake road and then onto Hwy 9 out to Arlington to the Thriftway Store we have all seen from the classic 200 km route.  It was a surprise to see that the store was not open, so we signed each others cards and continued on with the days ride.  I flatted 100 yards from the control and then Rick Hippe flatted 5 or 6 miles later.  After this slow start we both were riding out past the Darrington Fire station when sirens started going off.  As we rode towards Darrington my first thoughts were that I hope the fire trucks head away from our direction.  It wasn't to be that way.  The trucks passed us and within 10 minutes we came upon the sight of an accident.  Larry Ricker had fallen and the emergency vehicles were called to give him a quick examination.  We stopped and found him to be conscious and a bit embarrassed over all the commotion as any rider would be.  The majority of the riders were by now in Darrington or just leaving.

The sun had finally reached out and burned through the clouds giving us an opportunity to remove our jackets and enjoy what was to be a warm and sunny day.  Going through Darrington and then to Rockport most riders had found a pace to comfortably ride in for the duration of the day.  The small town stores became havens for buying additional drinks and ice before the big climb that was to begin just outside of Newhalem.  It was during this climb that many riders found their limitations to the heat while doing a strenuous ride uphill for 37 miles.  Many stopped in the shade on the side of the road to cool down and relax before continuing up to the scenic mountain pass.  The creeks and rivers that flowed next to or crossed under the highway were tempting to stop and dip ones feet into.  I looked at each one and made a mental note that if the next one was a bit closer with fewer bushes between the road and I, then it would be the one that would draw me in for a dip.  This exercise continued all the way up until I changed the game and started telling myself that it was to close to the top to stop.  Only one or two more corners to go around and the support vehicle would be out on the shoulder waiting with ice cold water.  This wasn't a short game at all.  It turned out to drag on and on as the climbing continued.  More turns to count as the canyon walls kept appearing on either side of the road.  Only the sound of motorcycles that seemed to always be accelerating uphill passing the cars on their way to the other side of the Cascades.

Terry's van was across from the Rainy Pass sign at the summit with shade and chairs setup welcoming the riders to come and sit.  Upon reaching the van it wasn't more than 5 minutes when the next rider came up, Wayne.  And then in unison, riders going solo up the grade appeared every five or ten minutes.  It was only 15 or 20 minutes before the riders started leaving and heading downhill to Concrete, where two motel rooms were waiting for those who wanted to sleep before riding on to Bellingham for the northern most point on the route.  I decided to stop and cleanup at the room and then ride on to Bellingham and decide there whether to continue through the night or rest.  Randy Smith and Dan Peterson stopped to shower and eat before riding out to Sedro Woolley and then towards Bellingham.  Wayne, John Wagner and others had planned on spending an hour or two eating at one of the restaurants between Newhalem and Concrete.  This was close to the 200 mile point into a 382 mile ride so it was a good time to refuel at a cool sit down establishment, preferably on a soft bench seat.

The ride out to Sedro Woolley was mostly flat, cool and refreshing after having the sun pounding down on the riders all day.  The check in at the AM/PM in Sedro was somewhat busy with all the traffic going in and out of the parking lot.  One driver came up and stated that there was a group of four riders heading this way.  They were somewhere back between Marblemount and Rockport.  The driver was talking like he had consumed several drinks prior to coming to the store.  I noticed he left with an ice cream cone dripping down his front side.  The route to Bellingham from here was very quiet except for the one car that drove by right after leaving Sedro.  A group of kids decided to scare the only rider along the side of the road by shouting loudly while driving by.  After going ahead a mile or two they then turned around and drove by very slowly with their headlights off and the emergency lights flashing.  This seems to be the usual kind of behavior for Sedro Woolley.

The control at Bellingham was deserted except for the cars parked across the road at a local bar.  The giant food mart next to it was a good place to use the bathroom and pickup more Gatorade.  It surprised the store clerks to seeing a rider out at 2:00am riding through town.  After filling in the clerk about the 600 km Brevet I was on, I walked out while he shook his head in disbelief.  So goes the life of a solo brevet rider.  The route through town was straight forward by looking at a map.  Upon reaching Chuckanut Drive I decided that the hallucinations my mind was playing on me was enough to stop and sleep an hour or two.  So after the first attempt at finding a campground and being told by a passing Park Ranger to go another mile south.  I finally reach Larrabee State Park and quickly washed and laid down on the grass for an hours worth of sleep.  Then I decided to go and wash again and found a more comfortable spot to sleep in the shower stall of the bathroom.  After another hour I was rested enough to continue riding south to La Conner.

The turn off of Chuckanut Drive onto Bayview-Edison road was never found during the early morning hours.  Chuckanut led right into Burlington where I found a map showing the next control to be about 5 miles due west of town on Hwy 20.  The large Texaco station was easy to spot and included a deli bar.  After this control point, the route headed due south outside of La Conner and then southeast along Chilberg rd, across Fir Island and finally onto Hwy 534 through territory covered previously by the 200 km.  I was impressed by the good weather that covered the entire Puget Sound during the weekend.  The evening and early morning riding was just as pleasant as the daytime conditions.  Thanks to Terry for a fun route and congratulations to all the finishers of SIR's 1998 600 km.

The 3^rd edition of the Rocky Mountain 1200 was held July 30 – August 2, 1998. 18 of the 21 starters completed the ride. Three riders represented SIR: Dave Johnson, Ron Himschoot, and myself. The route was essentially the same as previous years – a triangular route out of Kamloops through Jasper and Banff National Parks.

Day one: Kamloops – Jasper (434 km)
After the requisite group picture at the 4 am start, we were off! It was a perfect morning for riding, cool and still, with an occasional patch of fog. No major hills here - just a river grade with a few rolling hills. I found my way into a paceline with with some of the B.C. cyclists, and we began picking up some of the riders ahead of us. One of the riders was Dave Johnson, riding his mountain bike. When we had talked the night before, our plans for the ride were similar - to see how we felt and ride with someone going at a similar pace. As it turned out, we ended up doing the rest of the ride together.

A standard piece of advice for doing a brevet series is to not make any equipment changes after the 400 km, so that you are not using any untested equipment on the longer brevets. Well, I broke that rule by using a different pair of shoes with new cleats. I had used them on the last half of the 600 km where they felt fine. After the first control here, I started noticing a twinge in my left knee. The pain wasn't getting any worse, but I never had any problems with my left leg before, so I was a bit concerned. Because I had recently changed the cleats, I was trying to notice if the cleats felt mis-aligned at all. I did see that my right foot was a little closer to the crankarm compared to my right, so at the second control I adjusted the cleat. This seemed to help a bit, but after a while, things still didn't seem quite right. At our next stop in Valemount, I made another adjustment to the cleat, and my knee did seem to improve as the day went on.

By now we were riding in the heat of the day, well into the 90's, and we were stopping between controls to refill our water bottles. I was using just two large bottles, so I had to stop more frequently than the riders w ith camelbacks. We made it to the control at Tete Jaune Cache around 7 pm, where we had our first helping of the pasta (rigatoni this time) that would be served at the rest of the controls on the ride.

We were back on our bikes after 45 minutes, and getting our first close-up look at the mountains. As we followed the Fraser River, we passed Mt Robson, at 12,972 ft the highest point in the Canadian Rockies. There wasn't any big climb up to Yellowhead Pass (3747 ft), just a river grade and a number of stair steps. It was dark when Dave flatted - a slow leak, and he decided to just pump it up and hope it would last until the Park entrance, where there were some streetlights that would make it easier to change the tire. This was one of those rare times when this ploy actually worked - his tire made it 30 km into Jasper and our stop for the night!

Our accommodations were at a church - dining hall upstairs with sleeping in the room below. After a shower and dinner (meat lasagna) we went downstairs to sleep. It was tough sleeping, as there was a constant noise from the room above with riders coming in with their bikes.

Day Two: Jasper – Banff (290 km)
Up at 3 am, I had my breakfast of bananas and liquid food (Weight Gainer 2500), and we were on the road by 4. Dave saw some elk soon after we started, but I was too sleepy to see much of anything. The scenery on this day was spectacular - peak after peak on both sides of the valley, with snowfields, glaciers, waterfalls. The river here was swift and gray with silt from the snowfields. The road on this stretch was unpleasant, with cracks crossing the road every 10 – 15 ft. The result of frost heaves, this would go on for 100 km or so. We seemed to be going slow this morning – it was 150 km to the next control, but it seemed to be taking forever and the top of Sunwapta Pass ( 6719 ft ) was a long way off judging by the size of the river we were following. A stop for pancakes helped me wake up some, but when we started off again a light rain had started. It wasn't a hard rain, but we did have to stop and put our rain jackets on.

As we climbed up the pass, we began to see lots of cyclists coasting down. These riders were part of a commercial bike tour, and had been dropped off at the top of the pass. At the time that sure seemed like a good idea! This day was the hardest for me. It seemed like we hadn't had any downhill since we started, and I had been in my middle chainring all day. My knee was okay, but my butt was sore, and now my achilles was starting to hurt! Dave's hands were bothering him – he did the rest of the ride with a sock stuffed in each glove. Then Dave had another flat, and I think we were both going through a low spot. Danelle, and then Harold and Mack stopped in their support vehicles to give us some encouragement.

We finally crested Sunwapta, and had a wet, bumpy descent (finally !) most of the way to the control at Saskatchewan River Crossing. After lunch (vegetable lasagna), we started the next climb up to Bow Summit ( 6762 ft ). It had finally warmed up enough so that we could take off our arm and leg warmers. We could see some showers in the distance, so it was just a matter of time before we'd be putting our rain gear on again. Sure enough, right when the climb to Bow got serious, so did the rain. There was no wondering about where the summit was, as we could see the road cut into the forest from a ways out. Soon after the top was one of the prettier sights of the day – Bow Lake reflecting the peaks and glaciers behind it. The ride along the Icefields Parkway is one of the prettiest stretches of road I've ridden.

After Bow, we had a nice rolling descent into Lake Louise, then another 60 km into Banff. Traffic on this part was heavier, as we were on Hwy 1. On the stretch to Banff, my achilles was getting worse. In retrospect, I think my sore butt was causing me to sit crooked on my saddle, which was screwing up my pedalling. I started taking aspirin for the rest of the ride, which kept the inflammation under control.

We rolled into the control at the Banff High School around 10pm. Glen Smith had already checked in and left 7 hours before us! He would end up with a time of 59:15, with only a few hours of sleep during that time. He had told one of the support people about a problem he was having with his computer. It had stopped working while he was riding during the night. He tried tapping on it, pushing buttons, but was unable to get it to work. It was after some time he realized that it was not working because he was standing over his bike on the shoulder of the road, not riding at all!

Day Three: Banff – Kamloops (493 km)
We got on the road at 3am Saturday morning. The roads were wet, but the high overcast looked like we might have a good day. Kicking Horse Pass (5386 ft) was barely 500 ft higher than Lake Louise – we had barely broken a sweat before we stopped for breakfast at a café just past the summit. I was surprised at how good I felt this morning - I think we had both gotten through the low point of the ride. It was probably a combination of things: the weather was clearing, we had more downhill than up, and we were on the last page of the route sheet - things were looking much better. A couple of nice downhills with only a bit of climbing got us into the control at Golden. After lunch (meat lasagna), we were on the road towards Rogers Pass ( 4349 ft ). We could see showers ahead of us in the valley, and we wondered if we would be putting our rain gear on before the summit. I ended up getting to the store at the top without any rain. Dave was only a few minutes behind, but he had to stop and put on his rain gear for the last mile or so. After a pleasant conversation with a Dutch couple who were cycling the same route, but at a more leisurely pace, we were off down the pass. This 70 km stretch towards Revelstoke was mostly downhill, with only a few rollers to get over. We got there with a few hours of daylight left. My original plan was to stop here and do the remaining 200 km after some rest, but we decided to push on through to the finish. It would be hot the next day, so riding in the evening and finishing in the morning would be better.

Thinking we could finish in under 72 hours, we started off at a fast pace, but after an hour or two we slowed to a more realistic pace. It was close to midnight when we got to the control at Salmon Arm. After a quick stop there, we headed for the finish. My exuberance earlier in the day had given way to fatigue. It was almost too cool that evening, and we stopped to put on arm and leg warmers. The stars and moon were out, making it a beautiful night for riding, and I was hoping to ignore my sleepiness until we got to the finish. My eyelids drooped and my speed dropped so much that I had to stop in Chase for a sleep break. Dave and I found a comfortable porch, and I slept for an hour until my snoring woke me. 50K now! It felt like I was able to double my speed after our break, but we still were not very fast over those last miles. The moon had set, and soon we were able to seen the sun shining on the hills above the river. Finally we saw the traffic light that marked our turnoff to the park at the finish. The people at the finish were still sleeping in their tent when we rolled up. They had been out on Bob's motorcycle during the ride taking pictures of the riders (what a great souvenir, to bring home some pictures of the ride). The picture of Dave and I at the finish shows a couple of tired randonneurs. Our time was 74:33, which easily beat my estimate. Ron finished a few hours later at 78:10. After breakfast, a shower, and a nap, the finishers enjoyed Richard and Fearon Blair's hospitality at their house in the hills above Kamloops.

When I was getting everything ready to leave Seattle for the ride, Bonnie told me she hoped I would find what I was looking for on the ride. I hadn't really thought I was looking for anything, and had puzzled over it during the ride. It was on the last day - after the climbs, and the rain, and the lack of sleep, and the great support, and the spectacular scenery, and the other riders, that I realized what it was. I found that I was a randonneur!

Thanks to Bob Marsh and the many BC Randonneurs that organized a challenging and beautiful 1200.

My trip east had three objectives:
  Visit my mom in Connecticut
  Ride BMB
  Participate in forming a new US randonneuring organization

I Love NY - Not.
Visiting mom was a great idea, flying into New York City (NYC) was not.  Mom lives only 30 miles from the Big (rotting) Apple.  The plan was to arrive at 1 AM and rent a car to avoid traffic congestion.  I am completely convinced that what ever you do in or around NYC is a giant hassle and/or a hustle.  Everybody has their hand out or in your pocket.  I’ll leave this subject except to note my Budget rental car ended up costing twice that of what I was lead to believe, no apologies were made.  This is such an aggressive area I can’t imagine anyone surviving cycling here even with full body armor.  Let me never again complain about the our quality of life in Seattle.  Personally, I feel Woodland Park Zoo is a more civilized community than NYC.

The sleepy little Connecticut town of Greenwich looks to have been lost in a time warp for the 27 years I’ve been gone.  They still have police directing traffic on G-Ave.  My old haunts were still intact and the upscale store fronts look much the same as yesteryear less a Starbucks or two, has the infection begun?  A preponderance of the residences are old money living on old estates.  With NYC only a 40 minute train ride away bankers, insurance executives and Wall street brokers abound.  Once claimed the distinction of "The richest town in the eyes of the world," this community can afford to ignore current fads.  I couldn’t help noticing an absence of cyclists, bike lanes and bike shops or the addition of Bentley and Aston Martin to auto row along side the established Ferrari, Rolls, Mercedes, Porsche and Jaguar dealerships.  I guess golf is still the primary form of exercise.  Visiting family generally puts my stress meter out of category, you know the saying about "family and fish."  My brother and his family came up from the Jersey shore and my favorite uncle came over.  The 4 day visit was inexplicably too enjoyable despite the 90 degrees and 90 percent humidity.  Everyone got along and of coarse great food helped.  When the time came it was difficult to leave.  Driving north to Boston, near Danbury, CT I noticed the traffic was at a stand still on south bound I-84.  This traffic jam lasted for almost 15 miles.  I made a mental note to not return this way and remembered why I left for the west years ago.

Boston
Jennifer Wise, director of BMB, runs an extraordinary event.  I can’t praise the organization, support and camaraderie for BMB enough.  It is by far the best run brevet and toughest route I’ve experienced and this includes the likes of PBP, Rocky Mountain 1200 and Super Scandinavia 1200.  Every aspect of BMB is meticulously planned and executed.  The start/finish hotel is rurally located yet has easy access to the interstate if you’re driving.  For non-drivers tram service to downtown Boston and the airport is across the street.  The hotel runs an airport limousine if that’s your preference.  The controls are manned by caring supporters, many are BMB veterans with compassion for your passion.  Each control served up great vittles and seemed to compete for best in class.  My favorite was the pork fried rice but the pizza, pasta, deli sandwiches and chicken soup were memorable.  Sleeping, shower and bag drop services were available at the controls on the out and back route.  Pierce Gafgen was the archangel of technical support, always hovering where needed with a big grin and joking.  All this plus a plethora of goodies including the great looking and practical jersey/jacket (see above) were covered by the entry fee.  Little things like Ensure Plus for breakfast prior to the 4 AM start and a family of eager supporters at the controls make you feel cared about.  Nothing was overlooked.

Jennifer said "expect one day of rain during BMB, it’s a fact."  Well, it rained and blew as hard as I’ve ever seen the evening prior, but come morning the start was cool and misty, perfect riding conditions if you didn’t wear eye glasses.  Following a group photo, we were lead out the first 15 miles by a pace car, after that we were left to follow the Dan Henry markings at each turn or route change.  This relegated the 16 page cue sheet to a back pocket.  In about an hour the little hills started and my knees began to ache, not a new phenomenon but worrisome so early on.  At about mile 45 a secret control was a good place to dig into my stash of pain pills.  After leaving the first control, Bullard Farms, I met Stig, a 29 year old randonneur from Denmark.  We rode a similar pace so made a pact to stick together.  Not a stranger to audax style riding, Stig was fun to chat with since he knew a number of the Danes I met on last year’s Scan. 1200.  Endurance riders world wide are a small community so it’s not surprising to cross paths in far off places.  Stig was on a quest, this being his third 1200 Km this year and he was going to Australia in October for a fourth.  If successful, he’ll be the first to ride four 1200 k’s in four different countries on three different continents in one year.  This was one strong dude, grinding up the steepest hills in a 42 X 24 and always smiling.  I got slower on each succeeding hill (of which their were many) but Stig always waited.  Fortunately we made up some time on the wily descents.  Pulling into Brattleboro with116 miles and 6,000’ elevation gain (EG) on our legs about lunch time and we were eager to replenish spent calories.  An entree of fried rice, vegetable, pork and chicken among other delicacies hit the spot.  The sky was blue, the sun bright and life is good.

After leaving Brattleboro we came up on a little fireball, Amy, who was working the hell out of her tricked out triathlon bike.  We talked a while and I mentioned "what a shame that Americans don’t share the gift of riding together."  She shot back "Hey, this is America, every man for them self" and with that kicked it up a notch and disappeared into the horizon.  Stig and I were making good progress despite my slow climbing.  We both planned to get a few hours sleep at the Middlebury control (240 miles, 14 K+ total EG) then head out early for the out and back to Montreal (270 miles, 6,000 EG) sleeping again at Middlebury before retracing our route back to Boston.  The relatively flat second day leg looked on paper to be a rest day, Ha!  So far the scenery was serene and pleasant, not spectacular as is Washington state.  The sun just set as we approached the formidable Middlebury Gap, this 6 mile climb is rated at 15 percent for the top 2 miles.  Fortunately it was cool and dark, so you couldn’t see further than your headlight beam, this helping your psyche.  Resorting to my fabled serpentine maneuver I felt if I went any slower I’d be going back in time.  I swear people walked past me.  Again, Stig waited at the top.  Arriving at the Middlebury control just after 10 PM a hot shower, pasta and bed beckoned but not before some serious play time with Aspen (Golden Retriever) the resident entertainer.  Up at 3 AM and on the road before four, we were in a lot of company.  I suggested to Stig "we could be back before dark," (yea, but what day!)  At the Rouses Point control, before crossing into Canada, the times for those returning from Montreal were surprisingly slow.  This should have been a warning.  Our current tailwind would become a headwind on the way back and yesterday’s effort plus eighty-five degree temperature took it’s toll on the energy level.  We reached the Montreal turn around control mid-afternoon and none of the lounging riders showed much enthusiasm for heading back into the wind.  Eventually five of us formed a pace line to share the burden.  Just as we were leaving in comes solo rider smiling Jack Eason, a 72 year old Brit who ended up finishing the full 750 miles in 85 hours.  What a hero.

It was close to dark by the time Stig and I left Rouses Point for Middlebury, 85 miles away.  The pace line from Montreal had punished my knees but I couldn’t imagine going it alone.  They ached more than ever even with the Codeine I was taking.  At some point Stig and I got separated in the dark, not to worry, lots of other zombies were out struggling to make progress.  Crossing the Lake Champaign causeway I felt raindrops.  The sky was clear and the moon bright, what’s going on, my feeble brain struggles with the contradiction.  I later found out that the wind blew spray up over the road from the lake 6 feet below.  Now riders started bunching up and riding two abreast trying to keep each other awake with conversation when along comes a Vermont state patrolmen.  It’s midnight in the middle of nowhere and this guy is lecturing us about bicycling single file, "It’s the law." When I interjected "isn’t it the law for cars to dim headlights to oncoming traffic?" he got really defensive about his natives not recognizing cyclists and thinking we were upside down cars or some such rubbish.  This foray did serve to elevate my adrenaline.  I was riding with a nice guy, Barry from Colorado.  He was totally zoned out and just trying to get in to Burlington where a motel room awaited him.  My knees were now making an hideous scratching sound as if a scotchlite pad had replaced the meniscus cartilage.  My big concern was am I doing permanent damage?  Arriving at the SUSSE CHALET around 2 AM Barry stumbled to his room and I asked the night desk man (John) if a room was available?  I’d decide my fate after some sleep.

Boston-Montreal-burlington (BMb) Randonnneur-Abandoneur.  Up at 5:30 AM feeling rested but the knees no better.  Sitting in the lobby drinking hot coffee with ice packed on my knees I asked John about transportation to Middlebury.  He volunteered to give me a lift when he got off at 7.  Wow what  hospitality, who said Vermonters are reserved.  It was a done deal and I have no regrets.  Granted I may have been a finisher had I ridden slower with longer off bike breaks but that’s hindsight.  The problem at hand was getting my bike into John’s Geo Metro.  John is well educated and fascinating to talk with.  He’s a sign language interpreter at a local school, a scrabble whiz and a AA member, as are a number of my friends.  I have nothing but respect and admiration for John and we now communicate via e-mail.  In Middlebury I caught another lift with Charley, also an abandoneur and currently supporting his buddy Barry who I rode with to the motel.  Charley was another super guy from Colorado.  He was very encouraging about my knee problem and suggested I visit Dr. Andy Pruitt in Bolder, famous for getting abused knees back in action.  At Ludlow Tim gave me a lift to Bullard farms.  Tim was from Pennsylvania and supporting his buddy Joel.  His dedication to support, gregarious and infectious personality gave me cause about abandoning.  Not long after arriving at Ludlow Stig pulled in with a new and capable riding partner, Jeff.  They were well matched and would finish strong.  Then the Quad-squad came in.  This jovial upbeat bunch is a real irritation, they exhibit none of the gaunt zoned out look once aptly described as "two holes in the snow" that’s standard issue on these events.  The Quad event covers exactly the same route as the 1200 km except they turn around at Middlebury, covering approximately 200 Km each day then party and sleep to their content.  They can only be accused of having too much fun cycling while their comrades suffer.  One of them, Holly - current UMCA miles contender, I knew from Hell Week in Texas.  She, her friend Linda, Ken B. and I went to dinner the eve of BMB.  Some riders don’t or can’t appreciate their style but I’m convinced and plan to come back to ride the Quad.  Having riders with support vehicles has a benefit I never dreamed of, that being I was back in Boston by 6 PM that day.  After cleaning up I hung out at the finish where I met Leana, Stig’s Danish friend and a delightful lady.  She anxiously awaited Stig’s arrival although he was still 10 hours away from finishing.  Sunday was banquet day and as riders trickled in their effort was acknowledged with cheers, applause and hugs from loved ones.  The later finishers reaped the biggest rewards.  An old biker buddy from Seattle, Ken Brooker, now residing in Virginia, drove up to visit.  He willfully lent a helping hand in serving the banquet meal and socialized with fellow cyclists.  While I was riding BMB he was busy checking out future job related opportunities in New Hampshire.  I wish him the best of luck.

BMB is an extraordinary event for normal people performing exceptionally.  For the complete BMB results see: http://www.geocities.com/Colosseum/2750/result98.html

Randonneuring re-organization
Jennifer Wise, BMB director and president of Randonneurs Mondiaux, held a meeting the Monday following BMB to reinvigorate randonneuring in America.  Over the past years the ACP, France, US Regional Brevet Administrators and individual randonneur members have been exceedingly frustrated and discouraged by the czar of International Randonneurs (Syracuse) consistent lack of leadership and unresponsiveness to requested information.  These destructive policies have greatly hindered progress, finally prompting corrective action that will become self-evident shortly.  At this time all I can allude to is that very positive changes are on the way in the form of an entirely new broad based organization with a focus on service and growth.  Within the next few weeks a mailing will be sent to all current US randonneurs explaining the goals and objectives.  Do not confuse this with the current IR newsletter which contains empty promises to mend its ways.

In conclusion - For me, all 3 phases of this trip were a great success although next time I’ll do a few things different.  I made new friendships, reestablished old ones and learned much.  One can’t ask for more.

You are not alone.
Here is an excerpt from the book "In the Zone" by Peter Potterfield.  Try substituting the word "randonneuring" for "climbing."
"Climbing is the best foil I've found for the onerous of the twentieth century.  It keeps me in touch with the sun and moon and stars, with wind and terrain, with my body and my abilities, and quite often, with the texture of my fear.  I enjoy it immensely, when I don't hate it."
 
Major Meltdown of a "Proper Attitude"
I was doing a last gasp training ride preparing for Boston-Montreal-Boston.  I chose a route of about 120 miles in the Mt. Rainier National Park area with approximately 12,000’ of elevation gain.  Starting at the Crystal Mt. turn off (Hwy 410,) I climbed Cayuse Pass, descended down to Grove of the Patriarchs, up the Stevens Canyon to Paradise, then down to the town of Packwood via Skate Creek (Forest Road 52,) back up Cayuse Pass and hopefully finishing where I started.  The first 2 big climbs, Cayuse Pass and Stevens Canyon, were pure pleasure done with fresh legs and cool morning mist but now it’s 8 hours into this mayhem.  I was just above the tunnel on the return climb of Cayuse Pass where the afternoon sun and 100 plus miles about had me on the ropes.  I stopped and was bent over my handle bars trying to figure a better way out of this suffering but mostly cursing my stupidity for this misadventure when a car stopped.  My sprits rose from the ashes thinking a good Samaritan was going to take pity on my sorry ass and offer a lift, which was within my capability of accepting when they asked "which way to Paradise?" my feeble response was "not this way!"
 
The lost instruction from the 600 km cue sheet
306.3  /  6.3 /   R - @ possum 

In this Issue:
400 Km Results & Ride Accounts
Fleche Nordique
Bits and Pieces

My story starts the weekend before the 400 km.

After doing a 200 km ride with Max in Canada,  I noticed that the frame on my road bike had developed a crack in the down tube.  I quickly realized that my bike of 18 years was not going to be the one I used on the 400 km.  I swapped my seat and road peddles onto my Mt. Bike and put some narrow tires on the rims.  I rode my Mt. Bike into work and it seemed that it would work fine.

The 400 km event:

2:00AM - I wake up, my cat wants to know what is wrong? Isn't time to keep sleeping? Right!

3:30AM - I sign in at Terry's house.

4:00AM - The twenty two of us peddle away into the dark. I still don't feel awake.

I am riding with Max and Duane, and things are going well, around 4:45 it's so light that our lights are no longer having any affect, we shut them off.

It is only after stopping at the Skykomish control, that I start feeling awake.

Halfway up Steven's Pass it's getting real sunny, Duane continues on, Max dabs a little sunscreen on her nose and heads on up, I stayed a few minutes and finished coating up. Caught up with Duane and Max as they were heading towards Leavenworth.

Get out of Leavenworth at 1:00PM, and soon we are going up Blewett pass, Duane and then Max disappear around the windy corners heading up, after about an hour of hot climbing in the sun, I pull over and cool off in the shade for 10 minutes, had an orange and did some water, and then continued up the hill.  Small clouds start to block out the sun, I think that's nice, but when they start rumbling with thunder, I decide they aren't so nice.  As I crest the summit Ron Himschoot is taking pictures of me and Don Harkleroad is standing there manning the Secret Control, guess I could hauled a little less water up the hill.

9:45PM Snoqualmie Pass Tunnel - The last of the day light is disappearing over Snoqualmie Pass, and I am just about at the Tunnel, I hit the switch on my Cateye Stadium Lamp and it starts to emit it's Nuclear Blue Glow. I see just 2 cars behind me, so I peddle on into the tunnel.  My light is lighting the whole right half of the tunnel, Floor to Roof. Cars seem wary of the object emitting the Nuclear Blue Glow, they slide smoothly into the left hand lane, long before they pass me.  Then I am through.  I shut the big light off, I will save the rest of it for the decent.

10:30PM - I am at the summit, I turn the big light back on and I descend Snoqualmie Pass at warp 9, with all the light I need.  By 11:30 I am in North Bend having a snack and chatting with Ron Himschoot, at the gas station.

1:30AM - I am started north on 203, heading to Duval, I see a mile post sign and I think neat, just watch them count up to 15 and I will be in Duval, after a bit I see 2, then after a longer bit I see 3.  I decide the miles markers are no longer fun.  Around mile marker 12, I feel very tired and pull over and stop, I laid down in a nice dry ditch and take a 10 minute nap.  Then back on the bike.

2:5XAMish - I find Duval's only stop light and go left, I am glad there is only one light, because the street doesn't have a name on it.  I cross the open feeling area and make my right hand turn, I have double and triple checking my directions, because I know if I make any wrong turns I will be beyond lost.  I am draining the last of the big light here, I notice that the light is bight enough to see that the grass is green, as I go up and down the hills by the dairy farms.  When  I shift into my granny gear, I am happy that I am on my Mt. Bike.

5:00AM - I am running out of directions and I no longer need any lights on, as I pull into 232nd St. as Max is driving by in her car, she cheers me on.

5:30AM - I am back where I started.

After getting signed out, receiving my medal and congratulations from Ron and Don, I start driving home, after 10 minutes things start to get a little fuzzy, so I pull into the Texaco Gas Station, got a coffee and donut, ate the donut, laid down in the back seat of my truck and sleep for 2 hours.  Then I drove home.

It was a great ride.

In this Issue:
300 Km results & account
Where The Wild Things Are
SIR Summer Social & Potluck
Portland 600 km - Rambo's Revenge
BC Randonneurs Fleche
Bits and Pieces
Dictionary: English/French cycling terms

 

The Hood Canal 300 Km brevet is both wildly scenic and challenging (with 8,100’ of elevation gain.)  Max’s ride account reminds us why it remains a favorite.

     Twas the night before 300 km, and all through the house,
     A Fer Generator Light is Strewn -- across the floor, on the coffeetable,
     Everywhere, in fact, but on the _(*&^$&*%* bike.

    Scene opens on night-before safari preparations:  No worries,  a sweet, patient mechanical engineer has agreed to install the new generator-driving lighting system on Max's bike, and will work for food.   Max  bbqs a Last Supper of steak and tater tots.  The engineer begins work at 6:00 p.m.,... have that generator on in no time, and Max, QUIT WORRYING?!
    Max seeks solace at the bikestore and finds:  reflective stars and moon stickers for the fender, a reflective orange triangle, a new can of Gatorade powder to replace last year's petrified rock version.  She tarries awhile, preferring not to see bicycle generator parts all over the floor, not to participate in the engineering process.  Max returns home to find the engineer with a newly purchased $100+ drill-and-bit set (bright yellow drill, kinda cute color anyways) and a hole drilled in the new generator -- hmmn, not looking good.
    Max endures the bike physics lesson -- "You see, if you put the generator on the back wheel, it will be VERY HARD -- not just a little bit tough -- VERY HARD, you understand, to get the back wheel off, or  to put it back on.  Max sulks and insists:  "The generator must go on the back wheel for proper steering and bike balance?"  Engineer relents:  "Well, okay, it can be done."  [Until awhile later...] It can't be done.  The rear axle bolt is too short.  No more stuff will fit on there, not now, not never.
    The engineer escapes to the bike shop looking for plan two and an alternate light in advance of tomorrow's ride and the inevitable, fast approaching darkness, but it is closed.   Max grabs her own screwdriver and drops it, curses, anxiously clockwatches, fumbles with bolts and screws and material things that seem to stubbornly resist any movement.   She wishes she had never given away the opera tickets for that night --  oh, to be sitting at La Boheme right now.
    The engineer reappears, carrying a few lead acid lantern batteries, some appliance cords, a roll of electrician's tape, twisty-ties, and an electrical connector thing, and an alternate lighting plan.  Max in fine anxious state, sees him beaming in the doorway, but refuses to comprehend the smile.  [She doesn't get it, in fact, until next evening at dusk...] At midnight she retires.
    Four-thirty a.m. Max awakens to darkness and can think of no good reason to leave a warm bed.  She dresses, devours the Roast Beef Breakfast sandwich (guaranteed no burp ) panics about the ferry --which is the Coleman Ferry dock anyway, and what if it's in West Seattle[?]-- and drives downtown to the waterfront  and makes the ferry.  She sees other randonneurs through a caffeine-deprived view,  and signs on to the SIR 300 km brevet.  In a moment of foolishness, she PRE-PAYS for the medallion.  It is raining, blustery, and generally gray with a lot of choppy waves.  Ugh.  The ferry lands, the bikers meet at the Winslow dockside, and Max's safari ride begins at 7:00 a.m.  As usual, she sees retreating animal hides (clad in lycra and going fast) and then she is alone, and last.
    Max pedals out of Winslow, along to Poulsbo, through town,  turning onto Little Valley Road,  and spots the first big game on her safari.  Indeed, it is much too early for hallucinations, but as she is observing  the green fields,  horses, and  ALPACAS [?]!  And not the regular llama cousins, with long shaggy coats,  but these are very closely shaved, in poodle style, with fur tufts at neck, ankles, and a little foof at the tail -- c'est bizarre, ca!   And in the corner of the alpaca pasture, she looks twice, not believing:  A CAMEL, sitting with legs pulled up beneath him.  "COUNT THE HUMPS," she thinks -- all camels have humps, and nobody will ever believe I saw this creature -- damn, no camera."  He is a 2-humper, and she names him "Joe," as she rides on wards, meditating on the nature of   camels, and alpacas of the poodle persuasion.
    At the Secret Control, Ken Carter hails Max.  "Say hey, Max, you're not last  -- did you see those two people ahead of you go down the hill and miss this turn?"  Since stopping to take off her gloves, Max has seen no one.  Apparently, Deb and Joe didn't are now racing downhill, off course at a goodly rate of speed.  Can't stop and wait for them, must keep riding.  Sure they'll catch her soon, she rides towards the control at Quilcene, looking over her shoulder from time to time for her friends.
    At Quilcene, the grocery sign says "Home of Washington State's LARGEST ICE CREAM CONE."  Yum.  Max considers a moment -- and decides against what might as well be Washington State's biggest phlegm producer.  She buys  a banana and some orange jelly candies, instead.   Max removes her helmet, and observes a Harley Hog Dude  has just ridden up.  "Nice bike," she says,  following with, "No fair, your's has  an engine."  The Harley guy is quite cool, says he's part of a Hog Drill Team.  Wow, sounds like some action, she asks?  He laughs and says yeah, they are attending the ONE HUNDRED THIRD ANNUAL SEQUIM IRRIGATION FESTIVAL to ride in the parade.  Not much for action out here, I guess.  Max tells him to look out for JOE CAMEL along the route, and rides out of town.  The other Harleys are lined up outside the Oysterbar on the way out of town.
    Some distance up the road, she shakes her head.  OOOpsie, too much ventilation up there -- oh _*(%*(%( helmet is still at the store.  She rides back to Quilcene, attaches helmet to head, makes a mental note about mileage being 3 miles off on odometer now, and again passes the Harley line-up at the oysterbar, whilst considering the potential of a cold beer.
    Not now, NO BEER HERE, no time, and no stomach.  Walker Pass looms, a scenic challenge.  More creatures?  Here, by the side of the road, a deer stares at her.  "Hi, Bambi, seen any bears around here?"  The top of Walker Pass is easier than 4 years ago -- whew, big relief.  Down the other side, she sees the great rhododendron nursery  --  those rhodies must be on plant steroids, they are TREES, covered in hot pink, deep red and shy white blooms.  Passing Dosewallips State Park  Max remembers family vacations there, and tempted to detour and find that waterfall she remembers.  No time for off-road excursions, stay the course.  More course, and more course.  There's "Mike's Beach," that's the good life, get your own beach! Up the road Max finds comfort in the cream cheese and Marionberry rolls stuffed into her jersey pockets -- yum, protein and sugar.  Aided by orange jelly candies, she keeps cadence.  The water peeks in and out along the left hand side of the road, and she watches the coastline vistas.  No wind, thank goodness.
    Feeling a bit run down, she looks at her odometer -- 100 miles or so -- and realizes she hasn't stopped since Quilcene.  She pulls over in front of a hotel/motel.  It is a charming place, WITH VACANCY,  and a hot tub with a view of the water -- WOW!  What a perfect place to stop, to abandon this lonely ride, to call for company and stay the night here, then ride the 80 or so miles back to the ferry TOMORROW.  Nutter butters restore her resolve, and she turns the bike away from The Temptation Motel.  The road flattens, winds along Hoodsport, and Max picks up the pace.  "I think I can," she thinks, "Besides, I've got all day -- and look, it's flat here -- I can do this thing, I can finish."  The control town of Union  appears.  MAX NEEDS TO EAT.  Turkey sandwich and fruit plate -- straight up, straight down, no pickle, no onions.   The deli-keeper is chatty, says there were others ahead  -- and are we really going 189 miles?
    Feeling better, Max remembers her helmet, gets on the bike and picks up the pace, onwards forwards, towards the Bear Creek  Grocery Store.  Funny, she recognizes a biker coming at her  in pink and black shorts, "He is one of us, why is he riding the wrong way?" she muses.  She hails him, he hesitates and pauses, but gives her the thumbs up.  "Perhaps he left something at a control or is leaving the ride," she thinks.  Soon she sees the Bear Creek Country Store, but the name on the  cue sheet says Bear Creek "Grocery" Store, so she continues past a few miles, hoping for the right name on another store -- after all, her mileage is still off a bit from the extra helmet trip in Quilcene --but there is nothing else to be found out there in the boondocks, so she returns to the store and finds it is the control.
    Bear Creek Grocery Store Control and SIXTEEN OUNCES of cold, red  Gatorade later,  Max consults her directions:  "Return west to blah blah blah....  Hmmn.  No direct access on a compass line anywheres, and it is tree-lined in here, so no hint about setting sun setting west, well... return to road and continue on," she thinks.  [Big mistake]  DOWN THE ROAD a ways, and Max searches her control card.  The mileage on the odometer is an indeterminate x- amount off.  She anxiously pedals faster, hoping to see the Cue Sheet's promised right turn onto Route 300.  But it doesn't appear.  Finally, she sees people, and stops to ask some folks at an outdoor birthday party, where is this Route 300, anyways?  They very gently and  kindly disabuse her of her cherished notion that west is east, and east is west.  Max then "RETURNS WEST" in the true westerly direction  (some 10 miles round trip?) back to the grocery control and  this time back to the course!  "Guess the black-and-pink shorts guy was "returning west" -- wish he'd said something?"  Now I'll never catch him, or anyone else, likely.  Then to her amazement, she does see someone else, two someones.   The Ron Lee and Lynne V team are pedaling  strongly towards the grocery store.  "How the devil did anyone get behind me? I didn't see them along the road?  Is there now to be a hard fought BATTLE FOR LAST PLACE?"
    The sun is setting on the bicycle safari, and Max tries does pedal penance for outcoursing the course.  Feet fly and the flat with rollers landscape continues.  Max checks and rechecks her map adjusting for the odd extra mileage disappearing incrementally on her Something-Point-Oh-Something shy odometer, certain, it seems, to never again coincide with the mileage on the cue sheet.  The forest closes in with a turn away from the water, and suddenly it is DUSK.  Max tests the lighting system, et voila, lots o' light.  Yippee.   Cautiously, she turns on only the little Cateye Hyper for this dusk time, saving the lead acid big guns for  darkest safari nighttime of lions, tigers and bears.
    The road bends.  The directions say, "Bear left" on "such and such," but the street sign reads "such and so."  Is this the bear-right place, or no?  The odometer is as much help as a Magic 8 ball, so Max does not bear right just yet, and stays on the road.  It curves, and she pedals up the biggest, most monstrous, MOTHER-OF-HILLS AND LORD HAVE MERCY.  No mountain pass, this, it is very steep, and it is Eternal.  With each curve, the UPHILL continues.  Max contemplates the myth of Sisyphus, and  disheartened, disembarks and begins pushing the bicycle up and around another curve.  At some point she tires of pushing and finds she has enough breath left to pedal.  Angry at the hill, she pounds pedals using full body weight and standing, standing, standing.  At last, the summit.  But no downhill the other side, a curving place and  what?  another uphill?  Dear god.
    The moon rises some, and the  intersecting roads once again match the cue sheet.  This is good comfort.  It is dark now, and the road goes through tall trees which block out the rising moon light.  It is BLACK AS THE BOOGEYMAN'S CAVE.  Max sings a bit to herself, turns on various lights, and keeps to the steady pedal pace,  wondering about bears.  Sure enough, in the spelunker helmet light, yellow animal eyes shine forth.  The eyes freeze, then move closer.  "DON'T LET IT EAT ME," she prays.  The eyes look into her light, and she discerns fur, ears, and long, skinny legs:  it is NOT a bear.  [Just] a deer continues across the road ahead of her -- whew.  On through the darkness past a swamp, and a chorus of the loudest frogs she has ever heard.  She hums: "Jeremiah was a Bullfrog, da dum dum... "
    It is past 10:00 p.m., and some time before midnight.  She thinks she is now on Dewatto road, being quite careful to examine the cuesheet to avoid getting lost.  It is pitch black  and she rides down the road in this nowhere place.   A sudden staccato gun report cracks open  the night:  "KAPOW!"  Then another, "KAPOW," and another, "KAPOW."   What are they shooting? Is it dead yet?  Why is it getting closer?  Fearful of being mistaken for an animal, she musters her best  authority and yells: "HOLD YOUR FIRE.  DON'T SHOOT,  PEOPLE ON THE ROAD!" and rides closer.  In the blaze of big pickup truck headlights, she sees a man approach a point concealed by the bluff.  He bends over and extends his arm  to ....  She can't quite see.  Is he checking for a pulse?  Retrieving a target?  Delivering the coup de grace to a shot-up deer? She can't see.  But remembering her spelunker headlight shines wherever she looks, and not wanting to attract attention, she stares straight ahead turns off the helmet light, and circles  feet and her  pedals down the road.  "What are they shooting?  Don't know.  Don't want to know.  What I don't know is better not to know.  Keep pedaling."
    More hills, more darkness, and the final control at Seabeck appears.  Max grins at Ken Carter's dad.  She swaps one lead acid battery for a fresh one.  Lighting system  is working great--thank you oh mechanical engineer!  She decides against adding a 4th light, (the Nightrider)  since the lead acid in her quads is working against her now, and threatening to outweigh the lead acid battery in the trunk bag.  Spirits return, and she puts on a happy face.  Only 28 miles to go -- and if she hurries, can just catch the 1:30 a.m. ferry.  Yippee.
    Back into the dark.  And UP  Anderson Hill Road, is this a cruel joke?  The blazing lights shoot straight ahead, making the end of this uphill anybody's dark guess.  Max again pushes her bike, eating nutter butters and thinking it might have been sane and warm and good to  DNF at the Seabeck control, at least she wouldn't be out here alone,  fighting dark uphills,  trying to make an impossible ferry, trying to push the pace in the last 28 miles of a 200 mile safari?  But the Anderson uphill relented into downhill.  Might have been a glorious downhill in daytime, but Max kept the brakepads warm, not wanting to ride into a midnight hole.
    The close trees gave way to friendly shoulder-of-highway back through Poulsbo. Max is most happy to see cars and civilization again, especially happy to see big green roadsigns that tell her she is not lost, she is on the right road, going HOME.  She rides the highway towards the Winslow ferry dock.  A few maniacal drivers scream by -- trying to make the 1:30 a.m. ferry.   Ken Carter pulls up in a car, Ken's friendly voice says "Hey Max, see you at the ferry" and he is gone.  Yeah right, she thinks, the 1:30 a.m. ferry -- last ferry until 6:30 a.m.  If I miss the 1:30 ferry, have to hang at ferry dock for 5 hours in dark all alone or pedal (more) to a motel and get a room somewhere at 2:00 a.m.?  Max narrows her focus to HOME and starts a tired, ALL OUT FERRY TIME TRIAL.  A long gentle downhill helps her, and there it is:   the Ferry!  It is 1:33 a.m. as she boards the  ferry~!  Yippee.  And there is Ken Carter, with her medallion.  Wow.   Some 300 km safari adventure.  One question, she asks:  "Did you see the camel?"

Families are welcome.  We thought it would be a good end of the SIR rides get-together.  Burgers and hot dogs will be supplied, please bring a complementary food or beverage.

The ride will start from Prichard Beach and end at our house, 8460 Island Drive South.  Phone is 206-723-1468.  Please RSVP and indicate your food contribution.

    He came, he saw ... he kicked butt ... big time.  He drew first blood, he drew last blood.  Marvin C. Rambo, perennial organizer of the Portland randonneurs and current Portland Wheelmen president, finally put the nay sayers in their place.  Rambo, who historically can be counted on to always finish a brevet in the very back, putting in long, lonely hours, by himself, destroyed most of the field in the 98 Portland Randonneurs 600 km brevet over the week-end.  The ride began at 4:00 a.m. from the Sandy Park and Ride (Sandy Blvd. at I-205).
    With his steady pace, and his quiet self-confidence, Marvin started out slowly, but gradually caught most of the field.  Enjoying a tuna fish sandwich, at the Steamboat Island deli (229 k), Marvin revealed that he had struggled a bit, at the start, and had suffered a pinch flat just past the St. Helens control (59 k).  "Then my butt started bothering me, so I had to buy some bag balm.  I could only find a large can of it, so I had to take it.  Then I had to find a place where I could apply it."
    Rambo hung tough on the hills between Olympia and Bremerton.  Eating a casual dinner, Saturday evening, at the control at the Bremerton Dennys (306 k), Rambo remarked well, "I'm thinking of just riding straight through - I have a social engagement on Sunday afternoon and I'd like to be there."
    In a revealing moment, Rambo made reference to his defeat on the 91 Paris Brest Paris ride, when he had to abandon, just after Mortagne, due to delirium, and foot pain.  They found him lying in the sun, too far gone to have the good sense to even find some shade.  He was inspected by a doctor, who declared that Rambo was done riding for the day.  "I had wanted to cry," said Rambo, in his understated way, "but I was too dehydrated."
    On Saturdays ride, Marvin continued along, destroying the hills on Highway 16, between Bremerton and Tacoma, in the first hours of twilight, on Saturday evening.  The next morning, the large number of riders behind him could only speculate on how far in front of them he must be.  There was a rumor that he had spent an hour resting at the Spanaway control (the 7-11 store, at 373k), but other then that, the enigmatic Rambo's whereabouts remained a mystery.  At press deadline his finish time was not yet available.
    When asked about his plans for Paris, in 98, Rambo said, rather matter of factly, "Oh, I'll be there."  The soft spoken, casually worldly Rambo, an obvious Francophile, resides, appropriately enough, on Flavel St. in south eastern Portland.
    On the fast end of the pack, the first three arrivals rode straight through, with the leader finishing in 26 hours.  Coming in 28 hours were Mike Bingle and one other rider.  Bingle said the three of them had hit the Centralia control (443 k) at sunset on Saturday evening.  They decided to press on, through the night.  A tired Vince Sikorski (formerly of the Seattle area but now living in Bend, Oregon) announced that he was going to bed down for the evening.  "We were a 600 km time trial," declared Bingle.
    At the other end of the spectrum, a delirious Duane Wright caught a tow with the strong tandem team of Steven and Harvey, up from Sacramento, as they were leaving the final control (St. Helens, 557 k).  Their worries about navigating the metropolitan Portland portion of the return were put to rest when, at the north end of the St. Johns bridge, they encountered Lloyd Weisensee and Kevin, local Portlanders, coming out of a restaurant.  Lloyd pulled like a man possessed, emitting his own thunder, along the Portland airport, as the jets thundered on the tarmac in the background, taking the entire group all of the way to the finish.  When asked where he had gotten the energy for the final stretch, he said 'I'd just eaten a giant hamburger, in the restaurant."  The group of five came in at 38:46.  Shortly after them were George and the other Portland cross-bike rider.
    Wright had ridden most of the brevet with Nat Ersoz, also of the Seattle randonneurs.  Ersoz, a newcomer to the rando scene, had been a superdomestique for the aging Wright, towing him from Portland to Olympia.  Somewhere north of the Vader control (128 k) Ersoz started to be plagued by flats,  a nightmare that was to continue for the remainder of the ride.  Finally Ersoz reached the end of his rope (and the end of north Americas supply of tubes) and threw in the towel, just south of Tenino (389 k).  He and Wright had made the Spanaway control with only five minutes to spare.  Wright made it on, to the Centralia control, arriving there also with only three minutes to spare.
    At the finish, only minutes before course closure, a very tired and somewhat incoherent Jack came stumbling in.  He explained his uncustomarilly late finish to riding someone elses ride.  I'm not a fast rider, so I tend to only stop at the controls and try to keep my breaks short.  I rode for a long ways with two riders [he did NOT mention Lloyd and Kevin by name] who like to stop at every restaurant and bar.).

Expect to see Marvin C. Rambo on the cover of the next Sports Illustrated.

    The Terminators, Ken Bonner, Keith Fraser, and Ted Milner, reclaimed the distance trophy via their efforts in the 1998 B.C. Randonneurs Fleche Pacifique.  In a 24 hour time period they rode 654 km.
    The B. C. Fleche took place on May 8 through 10.  Eight teams participated, down from eleven teams in 1997.  Seven of the teams were from B. C. and one was from Washington state.
    This year the communal Sunday morning soaking took place in the outdoor pool at the Harrison Hotel.  The brunch took place in the Harrison Hotel dining facilities at 10:00 a.m.  In recognition of Mothers Day, each woman rider received a rose, compliments of the hotel (several women were overheard to make comments about "24 hours of labor.")
    The seating arrangement had the teams rather spread out, so the awards ceremony was held outside, after the brunch.  Harold Bridge, the fleche organizer, kept matters brief.  In addition to the overall distance award, other awards were given, including one for the team with the greatest distance x average age - this team included Manfred Kuchenmuller and Real Prefontaine (Harold mentioned that "having Real on ones team moves the average age up to 95!"), and the team with the greatest age range - this team had a young Tim Pollock and, at the other end of the spectrum, a 34 year old rider (hopefully riding with parental permission).
    The Washington state team was rumored to be the largest (by number of persons, NOT by total weight!), at seven (five bikes, including two tandems): Genny Gebhardt, Ron Himschoot, Dave Johnson, Pat Marek and Nicole Nelson (tandem), Greg Sneed and Duane Wright (tandem).
    Harold informed us that we were the only arrow (i.e. our route, from Lakewood to Harrison (via Bellingham) was pretty much a straight line vs.  the circuitous routes of the other teams.)
    At 366 km, we thought we would be the team having ridden the LEAST distance, but apparently one other team beat us for that distinction.  Our team was greatly assisted by the diligent support of Nina Johnson, Lee Kanning, and Ruth Sneed.  Without the beer and Mexican food that they provided for us, at Bellingham, it would not have been the same ride!
    Our team called itself "The Way of All Fleche."  We were a large team: five bikes (and seven people - incl. two tandems).  In short - an organizer's nightmare.  Exercising the sometimes inefficient method of democracy (augmented by lots of e-mail, not always in synch) we finally settled on a route:
    Starting in Lakewood (where's that?!), we would head due east to join the STP route on top of "The Hill" (the only hill on the STP route).  Descending the hill would boost our average travel time greatly, making the entire Fleche a POC (Piece of Cake), or something like that!
    We would then take the STP route to Seattle, then the RSVP route to Bellingham.  Then, after a long night of sleep, we'd then finally be forced to do some actual navigation and try to make it to Harrison Hot Springs.
    The team: Genny Gebhardt, Dave Johnson (on mountain bike - he was prepared for the roads washing out, in case the rain got heavy), Ron Himschoot, Pat Marek and Nicole Nelson (on new, shiny blue tandem), Greg Sneed and Duane Wright (on tandem).
    It was raining at the start, so we knew we had the right time and place.  The spirit was willing but the fleche was weak.  We started off anyway, rolling along the plateau of east Tacoma.
    Eventually we reached the STP route.  The rain made it impossible to descend "The Hill" at the speeds that a tandem would like to, so we lost our secret weapon, early on, and now would have to work to reach our destination within the allotted time.
    The mud flap on the Sneed/Wright tandem left something to be desired and Genny mentioned never having to use her hydration system because of the buckets of mineral-rich water being constantly thrown in her face.  That's just one of the features of a smooth operating fleche team.  Dave tried to get a refund, because of the rain, but I continuously assessed him fines for whining, which kept the balance sheet equal.
    We were surprised and pleased to discover that it was "Bicycle Saturday" along Lake Washington Boulevard.  The route was closed to cars.  Due to the heavy rain, there were not bicycles either, so we had a very quiet stretch here.
    The rain was so heavy that Ron and Greg started swapping nautical stories.  Instead of asking me to "stand," Greg occasionally asked me to "climb the mast, trim the sails," etc.
    Just before Pert's Leschi Cafe (the first control and a mandatory bicycle stop anyway), the blue tandem developed a flat, which gave us a chance to appreciate the rain (as yet non-stop, at this point) without having to bike in it.
    The first portion of our route, from Lakewood to Woodinville, was quite urban, which doesn't make for the fastest travel time.  Most of us passed dangerously close to our respective houses.  Genny was suffering from a cold, and said she would have gone home and gone to bed, but she did not have her house key with her (she was traveling light, her secret weapon).
    After another mandatory bicycle stop at the Deli in Snohomish (a.k.a. Control #2) we quietly acknowledged that it had stopped raining.  Talking out loud about such incidents only invites trouble.  We took the trail that heads north from Snohomish.
    Just north of Arlington we passed a Fleche team of B.C. riders, heading south.  One of them was counting the number of bikes in our group and then concluded that we too were a fleche team.  Each group was delighted to see the other, though we only waved and kept on moving.
    Somewhere before Burlington the blue tandem decided to have another flat (right in front of a heavy equipment yard with signs posted everywhere that said "Armed Response" (though it wasn't specified to WHAT they would respond).  Immediately after fixing the flat, a new flat developed.  This made three flats for the blue tandem, all in the rear tire of course, which was difficult to remove because of the disk brake.
    Finally the blue tandem was up and running again, and the team proceeded.  It wasn't long before we noticed that Pat and Nicole were lagging, however, and we stopped to wait for them to reach us.  A fatigued looking Pat announced that he and Nicole were going to drop out.  They said they were quite tired due to the fact that the disc brake insisted on remaining partially engaged.
    Several of us did our best to try to talk them out of this decision, extolling the virtues of the experience (great camaraderie, excellent food at the AM-PM stop in Mt. Vernon, beer and wraps for dinner in Bellingham, great Harold stories in Harrison, you know - the usual lame reasons - the list went on and on).  None of this seemed to change Pat's resolve so we finally had to acquiesce and confess that we had sabotaged his disc brake.  We even agreed to help disengage the thing.  Once done, we continued on our way (at full strength - four bikes with sort of o.k. occupants and one bike with very tired occupants).  Our plan to slow down Pat and Nicole had been a great success - now they were tired enough to allow the rest of us to keep up with them.
    Arriving at the oasis of the AM-PM in Mt. Vernon, Genny plopped herself down on the curb, next to the dumpster, and never moved for the entire break.  She was a study in agony.  She was so tired that Greg had to take her card in to get it stamped.  It took a major effort to pull her away from the dumpster and force her back on the bike.  She screamed as we pried her from the curb and placed her on the bike; we were firm.
    Then we headed out across Skagit Flats, keeping a civilized pace and moving in unison.  A clearing in the clouds, the first of the day, was moving in from the southwest.  We reached Chuckanut Drive in time for a gorgeous sunset out over Puget Sound and the San Juan islands.  Finally we reached the Motel 6, in Bellingham, our destination for the day.  We were greeted by Nina Johnson, Lee Kanning, and Ruth Sneed.  They had wraps and beer waiting for us.  We also had a grand total of FIVE rooms.  This seemed definitely counter to the spirit of randonneuring, where a mere ten people hardly warranted even two motel rooms!
    By consensus (eight to two - the tyranny of democracy) the dining took place in the Himschoot/Wright room.  All the other rooms were inhabited by couples and they didn't want their environment to become littered with empty beer bottles ... or perhaps they didn't want their environment littered with Ron or Duane.
    It was after her first beer that Genny casually announced that she would NOT be riding, the next day, because of her cold.  Several of us jumped her to pry beer number two from her hands.  Others suggested, however, that she be allowed to drink several more beers, it then would be easier to talk her into finishing the ride.  It was not until after we promised her that she could have the remaining beers for breakfast, IF she agreed to continue, that she did so.
    We awoke at 1:30 and were rolling by about 2:15.  Along the Mt. Baker highway we encountered a closure due to an accident.  They detoured us around the scene, which involved making a huge descent, then reclimbing - just what we needed.  At the border the guard asked Ron Himschoot "is this part of an organized ride?"  How do you answer a question like that?
    At this point in the ride we were somewhat disoriented because it was not raining.  In the fleches of the previous two years it had always rained the entire way from Bellingham to Harrison Hot Springs.
    We continued along in the quiet, predawn hours.  Eventually the birds started coming to life.  By 6:00 a.m. we were in Chilliwack.  We stopped in to a convenience store to have our cards stamped (for the 22:00 hour mark).  The clerk was intrigued by this group of early rising cyclists.  Genny ventured to explain our purpose.
    Eventually we made it to Harrison Hot Springs.  Harold Bridge was to be found, along with lots of recently arrived riders, in a chalet behind the Harrison Hotel.  It was great to see all of the other teams.
    The soak in the hot springs, followed by the banquet and awards ceremony, put us all in great spirits.  The sensible members of our group spent that night at the Harrison Hotel.  The rest of us drove back.  I didn't want to go back so soon - I tried to talk the Sneeds into letting me spend the night in their room, at the Harrison Hotel, insisting that we were all one big, happy family.  For some reason they wanted to be alone - families can be like that.

Cyclists Behaving Badly
A sad surprise and quite disturbing, it has been brought to the SIR Executive Board that improper randonneuring/social behavior has been observed on some of our brevets.
Have you Done Any of the Following?  Take this quiz:
1.  Elitist clique, the "good ol' boys club" - little regard for anyone other than your buddies.
2.  Attacking the pack - when half the pack was caught by a red light, some ran the red..
3.  Rudeness - pushing in front of paying customers at the controls to get cards signed.
4.  A number of bikes without lights.

We are all guilty by association.  A proper attitude cannot be legislated.  I want to believe randonneurs are above this.  Cyclists have a difficult enough time melding into our automobile-loving culture, let's meet the highest standards for both performance and behavior.  Charity starts at home; extend your hand to a fellow member and your courtesy to your fellow citizens, et bon route!

Up coming 1000/1200 km Events
If you are looking to test your metal for PBP ‘99 or working to earn the Super Randonneur 5000 award which requires completing a 1000 Km event in addition to finishing PBP consider Boston Montreal Boston (BMB) or the Rocky Mountain 1200.  Both offer a 1000 Km option as part of the 1200 Km distance.  For more information on BMB - John Wagner has entry applications or contact Jennifer Wise at: e-mail wise@edgenet.net or regular mail 10 Bliss Mine Road Middletown, RI 02842 USA or phone 401-847-1715.  For RM1200 - contact Bob Marsh at: rmarsh@axionet.com or http://www.sfu.ca/~tmilner/rm1200.htm.

Challenging Italian bike vacations
From Larry Ricker.
I have 5 brochures of La Corsa tours (http://www.lacorsa.com/schedule.html) and 5 coupons for $100 discounts.  Looks pretty attractive. Anyone is interested?  I can pass them along.

RAAM Team 70 Plus
Team 70 Plus (RAAM Team #36) riders in '95 & '96 will ride again '98 BUT, BUT, BUT will need another 70 Plus rider.
DO YOU KNOW SOMEONE who is not only a strong rider but a team player, has a sense of HUMOR, a talent for cleanliness, and is not inclined to suffer sleep deprivation.
Contract founder and rider Joe Walker ASAP.
E-mail:  jjwfpmc@aol.com or  fax to 818-755-1364

UltraCycling - Great source for endurance cycling information.
Attention!  If you're not already a member of the UMCA please consider joining if only to receive the UltraCycling information magazine.  John Hughes has recently taken over the helm as publisher/editor and has greatly improved the publication's appeal (in my opinion) with more useful articles for the refined randonneur.  This month's (MAY) issue in particular address lighting options, equipment selection, bike setup for endurance cycling, remedies from hot feet to a stiff neck, lots of training tips, event physiology and more.  You're welcome to borrow my copy for closer inspection or contact John Hughes by e-mail: JHnFriends@aol.com.  When you consider the commitment we make to our sport in time, effort and expense a UMCA subscription can pay for it self in lessons learned by others.

Job Opportunity - Executive Director
The Bicycle Transportation Alliance is a dynamic, growing organization promoting the bicycle as transportation and working for better bicycling conditions. The BTA is based in Portland, Oregon, declared by Bicycling Magazine as the most bicycle-friendly, major American city, located in the beautiful Pacific Northwest. The BTA has over 1,000 members statewide.  The Board of Directors has ambitious plans to increase the size and influence of the BTA. We are looking for a person to lead the BTA into the next century. The successful candidate will possess solid skills and experience in running a growing business; a proven record of raising funds and increasing membership; excellent written and verbal communication skills; experience with non-profit organizations; and the ability to work with diverse constituencies, including an active board of directors, government officials and volunteers. In addition, we are looking for flexibility, vision and a demonstrated commitment to making our communities better places to live.
Salary begins at $30,000 per annum. The BTA is committed to paying competitive salaries and this salary will rise commensurate with executive director's success is increasing revenues.
  Target Hire date: July 1, 1998
The BTA is an equal opportunity employer and encourages women and minorities to apply.
  Bicycle Transportation Alliance
  PO Box 9072
  Portland, OR  97207
  1117 SW Washington St
  503-226-0676  FAX 503-226-0498  email  bta4bike@teleport.com  www.teleport.com/~bta4bike  

In this Issue:
Inaugural SIR Fleche NW
Fleche Team Pictures
Bits and Pieces

This could be the start of something big.
The verdict is in, Seattle IR's (SIR) Inaugural Fleche was a resounding success with six teams, five local and one from Portland, OR participating.  Thirty two hungry people showed for the banquet in Wenatchee.

The weather goddess cooperated and everyone had a good time if not a learning experience.  Teamwork was the theme and even the veteran hot shoes got into the spirit.  With each team responsible for devising its own route they were master of their destiny.  Starting times and routes were diverse, from 6 PM Friday on White Pass to 9 am Saturday in Wenatchee and offered interesting results.  Some careful analysis by the Sigmund Freud Institute might yield the rationale of starting on a 4,100 foot pass at midnight with potential below freezing temperatures and serious wind chill factor.  One team reported water bottles freezing when crossing a mountain pass at night.  At least one rider is indebted to his trusty emergency space blanket.  Some battled headwinds while others sailed along with wind on their backsides.  Most traveled about 200 miles before succumbing to sleep however one team cought Z's mid way, finishing refreshed.

The SIR SuperTeam perennial trophy was won by "Terry's Team Supreme and Rick."  This year the award went for coming closest to the minimum distance of 360 KM.  Terry's team had a target of 364 KM and actual ridden distance of the same.  Novice randonneurs outnumbered the veterans and two teams were complete rookies.  Ken Carter received a special award for being the first team to enter the Inaugural SIR Fleche.

SIR Fleche brevet report:
by Nat Ersoz

I had no real plans to do this ride.  My road bike is "up on blocks", and the concept of a team ride makes me nervous.  Having others rely on me, and having to keep up with other riders' pacing can be a burden.

Well anyhow, almost without any effort on my part, the ride organizer John Wagner offers me a bike to ride and pulls together a 3 rider team out of thin air.  We are now Fleche team "Limited Edition".  Wednesday evening I drive to John's house (out in Seattle proper) and swap  my saddle and pedals onto his bike.  I take it home and prepare for the Fleche.

Saturday morning, 5:30AM.  I asked John to give me a wake up call before he left home.  This was a good idea.  I'm awake, but still in bed  listening to the clock radio, when he calls.  This forces me up.  30 minutes until he gets here.  We meet near a Starbucks and are off to Wenatchee, driving 145 miles.  Now this is not really in the "spirit" of the Fleche.  Wenatchee is the end-point, and we are driving to it, we'll unpack, meet our other team mate (Guy Oldfield) and start a long circle out into the sage-brush desert.  Most of the other teams are starting out and heading toward Wenatchee.  But we are a last minute team, and John as ride organizer has junk that only a van can carry (like trophy, certificates, etc.)

Off we go, a little after 9AM into the east with a moderate headwind.  We have 24 hours to complete our route of 233 miles (360K minimum).  I feel like crap.  Not a good way to start a ride.  My stomach is all nerves.  A bad week at work just prior, added to this idea of keeping up with strong riders is making me feel like deflated cheeze-whiz.  The ride is mostly flat (at least compared to western WA) and the start is truly flat.  After 20 miles or so, Guy mentions that there is a hill coming up.  He lives in Richland which is in eastern WA.  Yup, a long haul hill emerges.  Looooong.  John rides bigger gears than I do.  I never counted the rear sprocket, but it was either a 21 or 23 max.  I ride a 26 in back.  So we slog up the hill.  Guy, smarter than either of us, has  a triple which I completely envy.  I'm slogging ~50 cadences up this grind.  John is in the same gears and same pace.  Lots of trading standing and sitting.  I'd like to stand more, but my energy levels feel rather low - especially this early in the ride.

We get to the top, and they are not much earlier to the top than I was - which relieves my one fear that they would be stopped at the top of each hill waiting on me.  That would be miserable.  Well, here we are on top of a plateau, in a place called Quincy - I think.  Not far from the first control, which is ours to create.  We find a grocery and get our cards signed.  I buy some pears and water for the road.  Man, I'm sucking down water.  24 oz each 15 miles.  Which is my typical for a 90-100 degree day in humid Indiana.  Not a 45 degree morning in dry desert.

At this first stop I raise the saddle nearly an inch, which helps greatly.  My left leg was getting rather cranky about seat position.  Our second control is Ephrata, only 17 miles from the first, and flat.  The next leg of the trip is a long one.  The cue card today is very simple.   Only 7 entries.  Typically 20-50 miles in length.  Guy says that even the jackrabbits and rattlesnakes carry camel backs out here.  I top off my two over-sized water bottles and pack a third bottle into my jersey.  There is not much civilization until the next control.

I have little notion about where we are.  Basically, we're in a desert.  We start again, and this time the ride enters wide open plains as we head north.  To the west you can still see the beginning of the Cascades.  To the east, it looks like something out of "High Plains Drifter", and here we are the good, bad and ugly - on bikes.  North hombre...  This is a long leg of the trip; we start serious pace-lining and we're cranking for the upper-teens, low-twenties.  We do this non-stop, with loong rollers and a good tail wind.  As we are out there riding the western desert, one of the other Fleche teams passes us in the other direction.  That was really cool.  There they were nicely lined up, sun-glasses on, riding smooth and silent until we all wave and yell "hello".  Wow.  I wonder if we look that cool?

The next control is Brewster, which doesn't offer much except Texaco.  We fill bottles, get the brevet card signed and head off to Pateros where John says there is a diner.   6 miles.  6 difficult miles, and this puts our daily mileage at 130.  I feel miserable.  Perhaps some good food will help.  I'm in luck, I can get some mashed potatoes here and some corn.  Mashed potatoes have worked wonders in the past for me.  Mid-way through the potatoes, I'm in the bathroom puking up water, and yechh - all else.  Mostly water.

I go back to the table and announce that I'm done with the ride.  John patiently coaches me through this.  We rest some more here, and I push down the remains of my meal.  It tastes good, but my stomach has been way off from the start.  Finally, I agree to give it a go, feeling like a toddler not wanting to go to school.  John and Guy let me hang on the back for the next 30 miles.  Its dark now.  Lights are on, I'm zeroed in on John and Guy's tail-lights.  Somewhere in here, John mentions that we have some 4500 ft of climbing in so far.  Hah, so much for flat.  Though, in truth, it wasn't bad - nothing too steep, just long.  The good news is with the night, the head winds are dying off, we have done most of our climbing - and it's a net downhill into Wenatchee from here.  I'm starting to feel stronger.  After 30 miles of being a complete slug and letting the other 2 guys carry me, I feel the best I've been all day.  Though everything kind of aches, I'm sure that the strength is there to finish.  That sort of confidence had eluded me from the start.

Miles slowly melt away.  Around 10PM, my batteries die in the headlight and we stop.  The CatEye micro-halogen is  a "Chinese Puzzle" says Guy, as we try to remember how it opens.  After fumbling around, we get it open.  Farm dogs arrive and bark around my front tire.  Out of the darkness comes another brevet team, closely spaced.  We call out a greeting and the farm dogs take off after them (heh, heh).  We continue on.  The star display this evening is spectacular.  A good night for UFO sightings.  3 guys out in the desert on bicycles, delusional, abducted by aliens - you know how it goes.  Gotta find some beer and pickup.

The next control, is a closed Texaco station.  Ouch.  We sign our own cards, and John's light runs out of battery juice.  Fortunately, Guy was lugging 4 extra D cells and lets John have them.  Holy cow, nothing like carrying a few extra pounds in the pack.  We grind on to the next open gas station which is a Shell.  We buy  potato chips and rest.  Just 12 miles to Wenatchee.  A mere morning commute, I tell myself.  Seems like a lot of climbing to get there.  Small hills loom large.  We pull into Wenatchee with 197 miles on the computer.  It is 1AM.  Time for a quick shower, sleep, and then 38 miles in the morning.

We shower off the salt and hit the sack in the hotel.  I sleep great.  Twice that night, I get up.  After the second trip to the bathroom, I fall asleep (3AM) and the phone rings (wake up call 5AM).  That was the shortest 2 hours of my life.

5:30 AM, we are back on the road with ferocious headwinds.  We have 19 miles out and 19 back.  We have 3:30 to do it in.  Butt-bones, neck, back and shoulder blades are sore.  We pedal out with great effort as the wind literally picks up  gravel, sand and stones and whips them into our faces.  I should have my glasses on, but I don't.  We are eating dirt.  This is rough.  The canyon walls help to both channel the wind into our face and sometimes block the wind.  We steadily pace-line north to Entiat.  We are there about 7AM and the wind dies down.  Just one hill on the way out.  There is another Texaco here for a sag, we go in and talk with the locals.   I have a roast beef sandwich for breakfast.

I am so sick of GU and Clifshot.  There mere thought of GU makes me wretch.  I have got to get used to eating "real food" on rides.  At the first control John was tearing apart a fried chicken.  I need to add protein and salt to the ride diet.  Should make the rides more fun, too.  So anyhow, the roast beef was great, felt great, tasted great.  We got back on the bikes at 7:30.  19 miles to go and guess what, the headwinds that died  have now changed direction and we've got more headwinds.  They pick up with the rising sun, and grow worse as the day wears on.  Time to crank.  We push out with reckless abandon, well into the 20's, trying to beat the headwinds - and the clock - home.  We spent too much time in Texaco.  Pace-line city, very nice.  About mid-point our efforts have definitely paid off.  We are going to make the 9AM deadline, and the winds are really picking up.  9 miles to go, 40 minutes to do it in.  No problem.  Lots of wind howling through the canyon now.  We finally reach Wenatchee and a very gentle grade into town becomes a climb in lowest gear.  We arrive at  the Wenatchee West Coast hotel with 5 minutes to spare, 237 miles total.

Now we can party.  John heads for a soak in the hot-tub.  I shower  and find the Washington State wine staying in the room to allow access for riders from other teams who would like a shower.  The team from Portland, OR is 2 hours late.  What an adventure they had.  These guys did the "true" Fleche, starting in their hometown, riding all the passes and gorges from Portland to Wenatchee.  They were cold up one pass, found some guys panning for gold who had a bonfire going.  They warmed up with these fellows and got going again.  True adventure -truly absolutely "out-there".  Western cowboys on ponies of steel.  Yeehah.

The banquet room boasts a very nice brunch of eggs, sausage, bacon, ham, French toast, fruit, and yogurt.  I notice that the eggs and meat are in high demand.  Not too many vegetarians here.  I was kind of expecting more.  We're eating carved up pig - and lots of it.

This was another peg up the cycling ladder for me.  Another example of how low one can go, and bounce back.  I'm happy to have made it and it taught me well.  A coaching point for weaker riders:  Never under-estimate the power of getting back on the bike and letting someone suck wheel for a few hours.  As long as they are eating and drinking, they can probably make it--I did.

And there ya go.

  In the book "Seven Summits" I came across R. Kipling’s poem "IF".
If you can dream -- and not make dreams your master
If you can think -- and not make your thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same...
 
Basic Skills Class
  PBP is just over a year away, this suggestion may be premature but it certainly can’t hurt.  One of my most vivid memories of the PBP experience was starting at night with 1,200 other randonneurs.  The pre-start queue and then first hours of riding forces you into an elbow to elbow wheels overlapped state at 30 KPH.  If you have never ridden in a tight peloton or have reason to doubt your bike handling skills in tight quarters consider taking the basic skills track coarse out at the Marymoor Velodrome. You will learn the skills needed to survive if not enjoy the bumping and maneuvering in tight group riding.  I have only heard rave comments from the people who have taken the track class.  Culturally, Americans are use to lots of space where the Europeans are "In your face" and develop much more competent bike handling skills.  I’m sure you can endure the start of PBP if you don’t take the classes but why not enjoy the tight pack of riders and add to your skills inventory.
Ps.  This class is free to women.
Marymoor Velodrome: http://seattle.sidewalk.com/detail/9096
2400 Lake Sammamish Parkway
Redmond, WA 98052
(206) 389-5825
 
From my Swedish Connection
  In PBP 95 I choose to start in the 84 h group (05.00).  I have never regretted this and will be choosing the same time next year (if available).  We had our hotel just a few km from the start and had persuaded the hotel to serve breakfast at 03.00.  It all worked out very well.  We could easily have slept another 30-45 min, we were absolutely first at the starting gate.
  In the first day I rode to Carhaix (517 km in 23 h) before sleeping 2 hours. then I rode to Tinteniac (846 km) where I rested a luxurious 6 h 40 min.  Then all the rest of the ride the next day. Total time just under 67 hours.
  The 84 hour group is perfect if you are a "fast" rider.  You will soon start to catch up with stragglers from the 90 h group.  It is a great moral booster to know that you have so far ridden 7 hours faster than they have.  The only checkpoint with any kind of a queue was Loudeac.  Here the pace of many 90 hour and 84 hour riders seemed to collide.

Bengt, Stockholm

Fleche Velo California
  Eight teams participated in the first ever "Fleche Velo California" this past weekend.  A total of 42 riders from all over California enjoyed tolerable, considering what El Nino has allowed to date, weather conditions for the one-way 400+ km ride from Redding, CA to Davis, CA.
  The "eye" of the cold and blustery storm followed the seemingly charmed riders throughout the daylight part of the ride.  Scattered showers and pockets of hail were light and mostly went unnoticed due primarily to favorable tailwinds.
  With a 100% completion rate, congratulations are in order for all teams.  It was more than just interesting to observe the careful attention to the rules and procedures surrounding this new, for the U.S. at least, randonneuring event.  In fact, there were cases of near heroism in keeping some teams rolling and finally finishing.  John Watkins is high on my list of heroes.  You may hear some more from him about this event.
  DBC organizers are busy comparing notes and getting ready for the next Fleche Velo California.
  Congratulations again to all riders and thanks for helping prove we in the U.S. can also focus on "team" riding.

-Dan Shadoan, Davis Bike Club
 
For Sale

In this Issue:
Results - 200 Km
Maynard Again
TerryZ Sezz
PAC Tour Desert Camp

The first annual SIR Fleche is on for April 17th - 19th with 5 teams competing for the perennial SuperTeam Trophy.  Sunday's gala awards banquet (30 + people so far) will be held on the 7th floor of the WestCoast Wenatchee Center Hotel 201 North Wenatchee Avenue (509) 662-0782.  Still a few openings on exisiting teams, contact John Wagner if you are interested.  Teams entered are: "Team Summit", "Rose City Randonneur's", "Terry's Team Supreme & Rick", "Riders in the Dark" and "Age and Beauty."

April 4th - 41 riders showed up for SIR's 200 Km brevet.  The event was a resounding success due to the riders determined effort on a demanding route, the hard work of brevet organizer Max Maxon and her band of volunteers LeAnn Hoffmann and Scott Mar (Stillwater Store control); Becky Rush and Dave Hohmann (secret control) and last but not least to chef Rick and CEO Julie Hippe for their gracious hospitality and great post ride social/feed.  What a difference zero precipitation makes.
 

With the 200 Km brevet just completed and the Fleche NW team event close in tow, many new randonneurs are participating in both April events.  Manyard Hershon's recent article, "A Nation of Loners", in the March 1998 issue of the Bicycle Paper discusses his observations are which are appropriate with our new members.  The Bicycle Paper is free at better Seattle bicycling shops or is accessible on the Web at  www.bicyclepaper.com

Maynard probes into an open wound characteristic of many bicycle clubs that fail the test of time.  Below are a few excerpts from "A Nation of Loners".  Please read the complete Bicycle Paper article.

A Nation of Loners
BY MAYNARD HERSHON

Last month I said: A club is defined by its treatment of new and "slower" riders.  I believed that when I wrote it, but now I believe it more than ever.
In January; I visited friends in New Zealand.
Peter, who is strong enough to hang with the fast rides, rode with the new riders.  He made sure they stayed together, that they learned something about group cycling and that everyone had a good time.
One of the jobs to be filled was that of a "shepherd" who would start with the fast guys, then hang back and stay with dropped riders.
He or she would try to keep those riders together so they, too, would have a "group" experience - instead of the lonely return ride we've all endured.
My experiences in England and N.Z., plus stories I've heard about Canadian cycling, lead me to believe that we've become (or always were) a nation of loners.  We look out for number one.
We see others as threats, not potential friends.  Hey; who needs friends?  Who's got time?
Ride here, and you think that's the way of the world. Ride elsewhere and realize you were wrong.

If anyone is interested in doing the International 600 km or a 600 km on the Olympic Peninsula on August 15/16 or August 22/23, Terry Zmrhal is willing to set it up.  Please call Terry Zmrhal at 425-844-8718 before early July to indicate interest.  4 definite 'I'm going' are needed to make it a go. Official plans or non-plans will be announced on July 11.  

   I surfed the Internet looking for news groups (technically, majordomo@cycling.org) related to long distance endurance cycling.  I subscribed to two news groups, "RANDON" and "ULTRA".  Lon Haldeman from Pacific-Atlantic-Cycling (PAC) Tour posted a message regarding an ultra-marathon endurance training camp.  The training camp would be held in the high dessert of Tucson Arizona during the month of February.

   Lon quickly responded to my e-mail questions.  After researching PAC Tour, Lon Haldeman and Susan Notorangelo, I realized this was an opportunity I could not pass up.  Since 1980, both have been organizing long distance cycling events, along with over twenty (20) wins in races across America and setting records in twelve (12) of these wins.  In addition, both have set Paris-Brest-Paris records.  Their credentials (not all listed here) proved that they have "walked the talk".

   Moreover, Pete Penseyres, veteran racer and member of the 1996 Bicycling Magazine RAAM [Race Across AMerica] 50+ team which set a record for both the Master's Division and for teams;  John Hughes, newly appointed Director of the Ultra-Marathon Cycling Association, RAAM winner, ultra-marathon  coach;  Mike Wilson, veteran ultra-marathon cyclist, 1997 RAAM 50+ solo winner and winner of the 1997 RAAM Rookie of the Year;  Warren McNaughton, veteran long distance endurance cyclist and multiple P-B-P finisher;  and Ed Burke from the Olympic  Training Center would be at Desert Camp to lead seminars and ride with us every day.

   John Wagner, along with my long time cycling friends, have asked me to produce a journal of my activities and learning experiences while at Desert Camp.  I decided the best way to present my information was to organize the article with a synopsis, summary and finally, a detailed section.  Those finding that the synopsis and summary fulfill their interest can move on to another article.  And those desiring more information can find it in the next issue of the SIR Newsletter.

SYNOPSIS of Desert Camp

   PAC Tour's Desert experience consisted of two weeks.  Week #1 begins with Desert Camp and the following week with Desert Tour.  This type of venue presented many options for riders to choose either or both to accomplish their personal goals for this season.  The cost of any PAC Tour includes lodging in hotels (based on double occupancy), breakfast, lunch and snacks.  Dinners were the rider's responsibility.

   Desert Camp consisted of six days of riding and fly-in/fly-out to/from Tucson on Day #1 and Day #7.  Riding begins on Day #2, departing Tucson traveling to Sierra Vista (approximately 85 miles), the base hotel for the remainder of the week (Day #2 - Day #6).

   The daily Desert Camp schedule was as follows:
6:30 AM - 7:00 AM       Stretching
7:00 AM - 8:00 AM       Hot buffet breakfast
8:30 AM - 2:00 PM       Daily rides (varied from 50 - 100 miles)
2:30 PM - 3:30 PM       Optional Time: Physical testing, Computrainer Races, Massages, Stretching
3:30 PM - 5:00 PM       Instructional seminars
5:00 PM - 7:00 PM       Dinner (on your own)
7:00 PM - 9:00 PM       Special presentations
The schedule was adjusted whenever weather or road conditions prevented the majority of riders from finishing before 3:30 PM.

   Desert Tour, Week #2, consisted of seven days of riding and fly-in/fly-out on Day #1 and Day #9.  Each day of the Tour was point-to-point as opposed to Camp where each day was a loop.  Daily mileage of Desert Tour ranged from 65 - 105 miles per day.

Summary of Desert Camp

   Desert Camp is NOT FOR THE WEAK AT HEART.  The Tucson - Sierra Vista areas RECORDED extreme weather conditions in low temperatures, wind speeds, wind gusts, rain and snow.  Daily rides took riders up to the 5,000'+ elevation, not once but twice and sometimes three.  The daily elevation gains ranged from 2,500' to 4,000+'.

   Both, Lon Haldeman and Susan Notorangelo organized a great program with a solid theme for each day.  Pete Penseyres, Mike Wilson, Warren McNaughton, John Hughes and Ed Burke all had advice to offer to improve each rider's long-distance endurance cycling career.  They talked with the riders during the instructional seminars, special presentation, breakfast, dinner, and on the rides.  When I arrived at Desert Camp, I did not know what to expect but everyone made me feel relaxed and at ease.

   What amazed me was that everyone was so humble, something I never expected, but appreciated with each passing day.  Mike Wilson, 1997 RAAM Rookie of the Year and Solo Winner of 50+ year old division, patiently answered every question and only offered his opinion when asked.  And offered his ideas of what worked for him in his RAAM training and RAAM.  His liquid food mix was awesome.  I liked it and began to depend on it during the rides.

   Harold Trease has qualified for RAAM and has begun his training for this season RAAM at Desert Camp.  My thoughts of a RAAM rider were changed during Camp.  The ultra-marathon cyclist is a different but humble breed.

   I had a difficult time adjusting to the 4,500' altitude of the Sierra Vista area.  It took about three days of acclimatizing to where I was not gasping for air when I pushed hard.  Drinking (while riding) was another altitude related problem.  It required me to hold my breath in order to swallow which left me with the sensation of drowning, gasping to recover.  This cycle was repeated over and over.  Drinking on the descents or at the end of a pace line was the optimum time to take fluids.

   I also spent most segments of the rides by myself because I had a difficult time staying with the "faster" pace lines.  The "fast" pace lines were riders in the 50+ year old age range.  Some of which, were training for the Senior Olympics, Senior Championships or just getting in their 12,000 miles for the year.

   Mother Nature (could we blame this on El Nino?) just happened to set records as eluded to earlier.  Because of the low temperatures, my legs were always covered during Desert Camp and thus never saw daylight.  Each day presented us with a new set of riding techniques to adjust for the weather and terrain.

   On Day #4, as I opened the hotel door to walk to breakfast, I heard loud snapping noises.  As I turned around to investigate I saw the flags whipping and snapping in the wind.  Some riders rode the SAG vehicle to the first rest stop at 25.5 miles.  Those that rode felt the head winds and severe side gusts which took them from one side of the rode to the other.  It took me about five hours to travel the 40.5 miles to lunch.  I recall approaching a hill as I was riding into head winds, I stood to climb and almost fell off my bike because the cyclo-computer showed a speed of zero.

   Also that same day, a rider was flipped over on her bike [while on her aero bars] by a side gust.  She suffered a stretched anterior cruciate ligament (ACL) in her left shoulder.  She learned the hard way about not using the aero bars in severe wind conditions.  She was unable to ride the next day, so she jogged up to the top of Mule Pass!

   Day #5 was a climbing day.  Ascend and descend Mule Pass (elevation 5,860') then head toward Tombstone with more climbing.  Weather conditions were 35 F, snow level below 5,000', with a little mist at the start.  On the way up to Mule Pass, snow was falling and sticking to the road.  The descent back down with winds, wet roads and low temperatures made for hazardous conditions.  Reaching Tombstone we were greeted with snow flurries.  The local actors dressed in their Wild West attire were good enough not to ask us to stay for their 1:00 PM show re-enacting of the "Shoot Out at the OK Coral".  They said to keep moving ... out of Tombstone because of the snow conditions.

   During dinner one evening, I talked with Mike Wilson in great detail about nutrition for ultra-marathon events, in particular RAAM.  Mike said that the most important factor was to maintain a constant intake of calories to keep your system fueled up.  Liquid food is a key factor in ultra-marathons and brevets.  His sustained RAAM performance was due primarily to the mixture of MLO Mus-L-On II and Energy Surge (equal portions) mixed with water supplemented with solid food when time permitted.

   MLO/Energy Surge mixture of three scoops [62 or 67 cc, whatever is in the MLO container] per small water bottle or four scoops per large water bottle.  This provided an estimated 400 calories per water bottle.  The concentration can be varied depending on the weather conditions.  More water and less food for hot conditions and more food and less water for cold conditions.  Liquid food does not replace the need for fluids, intake of fluids must still be maintained.

   Moreover, Energy Surge can also be used by itself.  It is very easy on the stomach and the taste buds.  Energy Surge is almost tasteless and Mike uses it alone quite often.

   Since returning to Seattle from Desert Camp, I have been looking for a source of MLO Mus-L-On II.  MLO has discontinued manufacturing of Mus-L-On II.  The General Nutrition Center (GNC) carries the MLO Mus-L-Blast 2000 powder which tastes similar to Mus-L-On II.  I experimented on the 200 Km Snoqualmie brevet this last Saturday, 4/4/98, using only MLO and water mixture.  I consumed a large water bottle every 1.5 hours or whenever I felt my stomach getting empty.  Five minutes after taking the liquid food, I was back to normal output.

   Lon Haldeman introduced me to Malto-dextrin (the powder form).  When mixed with your favorite electrolyte drink, it adds approximately 150 - 200 calories per water bottle.  Malto-dextrin is a tasteless potato starch and most commonly used in the brewing of beer.  Almost all energy gel contains Malto-dextrin.  During Desert Camp, I used two ladles [equivalent of two cups] of Malto-dextrin with just water in a tall water bottle.  In order to mix it with water, put the Malto-dextrin in the bottle first then add water, shake vigorously and top off with water.

   In Seattle, I have experimented with Gatorade [half strength] and between 1.75 - 2 cups of Malto-dextrin.  I found an endless [for now] supply at the Liberty Malt Supply Company located at 1419 First Avenue, Seattle WA 98101.  They can be reached at 206-622-1880.  I also used the Gatorade/Malto-dextrin in conjunction with Mus-L-Blast 2000 on the recent brevet.  During the brevet I did not have any solid foods with the exception of a banana that I ate even though I was not hungry.

   I hope this information is useful.  I will continue with a detailed description of each day's activity at Desert Camp in the next issue of SIR Rides Again.

In this Issue:
Cutting the Cake
100 km Populaire - Recounted
Cycling Mecca
Gone but not Forgotten
New Old Rides
Stepping up to Randonneuring
CLASSIC CYCLE RACES OF EUROPE - Book review

The scenic Snoqualmie Valley SIR 200 Km, the first event for 2 year PBP qualifiers, is set for Saturday April 4th.  See 200 km announcement for details.  This is an excellent opportunity for a training ride with your team if your entered in this year's SIR Fleche.

The first annual SIR Fleche is on for April 17th - 19th with 5 teams vying for the perennial SuperTeam Trophy.  Sundays gala awards banquet will be held on the 7th floor of the WestCoast Wenatchee Center Hotel 201 North Wenatchee Avenue (509) 662-0782.  Still a few openings on exisiting teams, contact John Wagner if you're interested…  Update in two weeks.

It was a dark and stormy night -- well, okay, it was a gray and potentially stormy day.  Twenty-three cyclists showed up in Newport Hills and looked nervously at the clouds, grumbling a little about where is that sunshine, anyway.  Two cyclists decided to go hiking instead.

The fearless ride organizer showed up, made everyone sign their lives away on the dotted line of ride sign-in sheets, and led the pack  out of the Newport Hills Neighborhood.  Well, actually got dropped by most all of the 21 cyclists only  blocks from her house -- but continued the ride from the back anyways.  Out May Valley Road, past the horses in fields, the riders were nervously looking at the skies for signs of deluge.  But none came.

Max rode with Harkleroad and Himschoot, both trying to  outdo each other in pfaffing points, telling jokes and being thoroughly enjoyable riding partners before Max gasped still further to the very back of the pack.   Wheezing a little, the light-lunged brevet leader stopped at the bottom of Tiger Mountain for an inhaler puff, whereupon she met up with Debra Lowe's Joe, fighting the eternal self-loosening fender problem.

Joe started up Tiger Mountain and Max followed,  gasping her way to the top.  Meanwhile, Bob-The Whiz- Wisznewski turned around and rode part way down, so as to provide support. The Whiz was there at the top when Max waved at the big truck  firefighters of Tiger Mountain Fire Station, and they let the siren wail!

The sun  peeked out and the descent validated the ascending gasps  on Tiger Mountain.  At the bottom, The Whiz and Max met up with Jesse, a bold triathlete in training, who had stopped to dust her bike (sitting unused since September?) and check the route map.  They  proceeded  Musketeer style, commenting on the yellow submarine, dead possum and damnable (for some) thin-aired rolling hills.

Out Tanaskett Loop, Max noted a mud puddle deep enough to sink a truck, while Bob-The-Whiz practiced one-leg peddling style.  Jessie just hung on, then peeled off at the Ravensdale store so as not to miss her ride home!  Speaking of peeling, Rick The Hipster was seen blazing the road home so as not to miss a family event.

Hail hit just before Black Diamond.  Max and the Whiz happily joined their compatriots inside the Black Diamond bakery.  Marionberry pie, latte's  and sandwiches disappeared.  Debra No-Gears and Joe were found discussing the eternal self-loosening fender solution, and Messrs. Himschoot and Harkleroad added their spry remarks to the lunchtime conversation.  A few straggled out too soon for the return, and shortly thereafter, it began to hail -- hard!

Leaving the bakery was tough, but those who did were rewarded with the end of hail and some sunshine on the ride home.  A brief stop at the Tapatio's Mexican Restaurant afterwards found SIR newcomers Wayne Methner and first timers Ken Condray, Sandy Konczak and Bob Wiszniewski happily eating burritos and/or loosening their leg muscles with margaritas.  Ken Brooker put in a goodbye appearance, and told stories of new lands.

All in all, a good time was had at the back of the pack on that dark and not so stormy day, with a successful afternoon of sunshine from the back of the pack on SIR's first  100 km.

March 1998
Kristy, my wife, and Jaime, our two-year-old just returned from spending a few weeks in Southern France and the Spanish Island of Majorca.  Both areas offered incredible cycling opportunities and I thought you might want to know about them for a future cycling vacation.

Normally, Kristy and I wouldn’t consider going to Europe this early in the year but our little girl was fast approaching the age of the purchased ticket so we thought it might be good timing for us and we would simply have to take a chance on the weather.  Typically the weather in Southern France and Spain is pretty good this time of year, sunny and temperatures between 60 and 70 degrees.  However, they can get anything from 40 to 80 with rain and/or wind.  The Gods shined down on us though and it ended up working out just fine.  We never saw another rain drop after we leaving Seattle until we returned again at Seatac airport.

We arrived in Toulouse, France and stayed with French friends for a couple days.  Their daily lives are much different from ours.  Work typically begins about 9:00 am and every day they arrive home at noon for a 2 to 3 hour lunch break.  The first lunch they served us was pork chops, a nicoise salad, vegetables, and potatoes served with plenty of wine.  This was followed up with a cheese course and desert.  The next day was along the same lines. They swore they do this every day.  Then it’s back to work about 3:00pm and finally returning home about 5:30 PM for dinner.  Although our friends are schoolteachers and admit they have as easy of schedule as anyone in France they still profess that many French people follow a similar schedule.

The second night we were in France we visited the family of the girl that stayed with us last summer, Caroline.  Her Mother had us at the dinner table for a very traditional French meal lasting over four hours.  She and her family were very friendly and gracious hosts. Relationships and time spent with family and friends are very important with most of the French people that I have come into contact with.  They may not have the latest cars, they may have smaller homes, but it is very hard to argue that their quality of life suffers in any way because of this.

After a short visit in Toulouse our friends escorted us on the two-hour drive to the town of Argeles sur Mer near the French/Spanish border where they set us up in their ‘beach’ cottage.  This was a very cozy two bedroom, two bathroom house in an old neighborhood.  Out on the patio the Mimosa trees were in complete bloom, the olive trees were leafed out, and the spring flowers were starting to pop out. Spring in Southern France was in full bloom.

After saying goodbye to our friends we settled in for the next five days.  Since I didn’t bring my own bicycle to Europe I quickly located a bike shop that rents bicycles.  My first experience was rather disappointing.  I entered what appeared to be a very nice shop, extremely well outfitted and asked to rent a velo route – a road bike.  They then went over and pulled a heaping piece off the wall with back wheel an inch out of true and no rear tire.  I politely declined and traveled to the next shop where I rented a reasonable quality VTT (mountain bike) for a whopping $ 10 per day.

The first ride was an evening warm-up 20k ride up a single lane road through some vineyards into a small gorge like valley with a small river and a number of waterfalls.  It was very peaceful.  Along the way was a sign pointing toward a roman road or footpath from 100 BC which could have easily been built just 20 years ago.  Seemingly a turn to the left or a turn to the right leads to some interesting natural or historical site almost anywhere in southern France.

Considering I had about 200 miles of riding in since last summer the next day became the ‘big’ ride.  Our friends from Toulouse had saved an issue of a French cycling magazine with suggested routes in the local area so I pretty much used the routes that the article suggested as a basis for my rides in the area.  The ‘big’ ride turned out to be a 100-km ride starting at sea level and traversing to the top of a col or pass at 660 meters.  The ride initially reminded me of PBP because I would be on these winding country roads which would climb up into a small village and then quickly exit the village and be back on a country road before I knew it.  This time of year the vineyards are just starting to bud and the trees are not completely filled out but it is still very pretty.  This day as most of them were, was very nice.  Lots of sun and temperatures around 65 F.  The last 30K leading up into the Pyrenees and the Col Fortou was along a single lane asphalt road with a small village every 10k or so.  A car might pass every 5 or 10 kms. But all in all it was very quiet, very relaxing, and quite scenic.

The third and final ride I was able to do in the area was a ride they called the Tour de Madaloc.  A very short 15km ride from sea level to approximately 2,500 feet.  This ride was nothing less than incredible.  You start at the very historic and beautiful village called Coulour and begin climbing to a mountain peak called the Tour de Madaloc.  All the time you are climbing the road gradually steepens until I finally had to get off my bike near the top when the road was approaching a 30 percent grade.  You have a fantastic view of a number of incredible villages, the Pyrenees mountains, and the Mediterranean sea.  The French cycling magazine actually recommended climbing to this particular point by three different roads and making a longer day out of it but once was more than enough for me.

The next day we drove south an hour and a half into Barcelona where we caught a quick 30-minute flight to the island of Majorca.  We were traveling to the Stephen Roche cycling camp that I had read about in a couple magazines last year.  It seemed almost too good to be true; excellent support, awesome riding, great weather, a 4 star hotel, most meals, and a chance to meet and ride with Stephen Roche for about  $ 70 per day.  It proved to be all of this and more.

When you fly to Majorca you fly into the city of Palma which was much nicer than I expected.  In general, Spain seems a little dirty compared to France or Italy but the island of Majorca is much cleaner than the rest of Spain. It is a fairly wealthy island but in contrast to somewhere like Hawaii it is relatively inexpensive.  It reminded me of a cross between Hawaii, France and the California wine country.  Lush in many ways but also rocky and dry in others.  Temperatures were between 70 and 75 F. every day with sunshine or light whispy skies.

We arrived at the camp and were given a personal tour by Margo, a British woman that had been living on the island for 25 years.  She proved to be a tremendous resource all week, very gracious and helpful.  Margo explained that on this particular week there would be about 60 people at the camp with 42 people actually riding.  She also said that this would be the first week at the camp where the English-speaking people outnumbered the French-speaking group.

The facilities were very nice.  A large ‘mechanics’ shop where most of the bikes are assembled and maintained, an interior fenced and locked bike storage area where they had probably 100 secure bike hangers for everyone including room for your equipment, and finally a very comfortable lounge and office where they sold jerseys, shorts, etc and you could hang out and watch a library of cycling videos, read books and magazines, etc.  The hotel itself was ‘comfortable European’ meaning the rooms were large for Europe, very clean, and the views of the sea were very nice.  The location of the hotel is excellent. It was relatively quiet yet only a couple hundred yards from stores and restaurants. Our only complaint with the camp was that the quality of dinners was not all that great.  However, the only people to notice seemed to be the few Americans.  The English, Irish, and French actually liked the huge selection of foods even though the quality was probably equivalent to a ‘Kings table buffet’.

Most of the staff was French.  There were 4 ride leaders, Claude the office manager, Bernard the former French Amateur national coach and ride support person, Margo, and of course Stephen Roche who lives in Ireland but arrives at the camp every Friday and departs every Sunday evening.  All in all a very impressive group.  Two of the ride leaders are members of French professional teams.

Since I had chosen to rent a bike from the camp instead of bringing my own they asked me to drop by to be fitted. I arrived down to the mechanics shop where Philipe, a very interesting and funny ride leader/mechanic/racer/etc. presented me with a brand new, never before ridden Stephen Roche bike outfitted with Campy Record and Chorus components.  Their camp literature had stated that their equipment was new every year and was of excellent quality and I couldn’t agree more.  The bike rental was just $10 per day plus another $2 per day for insurance that would cover any and all damage to the bike.  I tell you this place was an incredible deal.

Throughout the week different ride leaders made comments about my riding position and I would make slight adjustments accordingly.  By the end of the week I met with Philipe again where we reviewed my final riding position and took measurements of everything so that I could make the appropriate changes to my bike at home.  Basically I learned that I had the seat much too high, I was riding too small of frame at home, and I was too far forward.  The timing of all this was pretty good since my Cannondale frame had a crack and Cannondale agreed to give me a new frame and fork under warranty.  I simply ordered the next size up when I replaced the frame.

Each day there were 4 groups leaving at 15-minute intervals.  The recreational group leaving first followed by the average group (my choice), etc.   Most of the people were either enthusiasts or racers training for the season.  All of the people were very outgoing and friendly. All week I spoke with a chap from Ireland, Victor.  It wasn’t until the end of the week that I found out he was the Wales National Road Race champion the previous year.  It didn’t seem to matter what your abilities were, your nationality, etc everyone was treated with respect, friendliness and openness all week.  It was an excellent group of people.  There were many English and Welsh, Irish, French, an Italian, about 4 or 5 Americans, and a couple of Swiss riders at the camp.

Our ride leader was Miguel, a French speaking ex-racer.  He would keep the pace very, very consistent throughout the rides.  Out we went the first day for a 60km ride with many, many climbs.  Leaving the coast you head up an untravelled single lane road that seemed to be paved the previous day.  It was perfect.  The climbs are generally only 4 to 5 % grades but the road switches back here and there through incredible countryside.  We would zip up a climb and see vineyards, stone fences galore, hundreds of lambs, olive trees, old Majorcan homes and farms, and small orange and lemon trees with ripened fruit.  It was scaled perfectly to a cyclist.  I arrived in terrible shape but the excitement, weather, and people all invigorated me.  After completing the first ride I was so excited I took Kristy and Jaime out in the car and we drove the course all over again.  It was beautiful.

The second day was 110 km ‘flat’, hard ride day.  After the previous day it was pretty tough on me but I was able to hang onto other people’s wheels and survive.  The third day was the only scheduled ‘rest’ day of the week so I was able to re-coup somewhat before the ‘Corniche’ ride.  This was a very hilly, hard ride that was approximately 100 km along the very rugged mountainous coastline.  Again the energy and excitement kept me moving and going along. Up we would ride as a group through a village and then down the hills we would race.  At one point I braked hard and my back wheel slid forcing me to ride off the road but I was able to avoid a couple sizeable rocks.  One of the best riders in our group was a beautiful Italian woman we started to call Paula Pezzo. She was always at the front, always pushing the pace, always competing with everyone in the group.  She didn’t speak anything but Italian and was the only Italian in the camp so no one could talk with her but we all had a great time none-the-less.

After the Corniche ride we had a 120 km ‘flat’ ride.  Everyone went out so hard on the Corniche we were all beat for the hard flat ride.  The term flat was a joke.  The ride leaders had intentionally had us believing that the ride for the day would be flat but in reality we climbed some difficult but very pretty mountains.  One particular town, Orient, was this incredibly beautiful, very small village placed way up high in a mountain pass (2000’ feet up).  I drove there later with Kristy and Jaime and stopped in and asked about room rates at a very cute little inn.  $ 28 per night per double.  Wow.  Speaking of reasonable costs one night Kristy and I went out to dinner at a nice restaurant called Ciros.  It was a warm evening and we sat outside enjoying the sunset and the beach.  We had this incredible Sangria de Cava which is like a champagne, white wine served in a huge clear pitcher with lots of ice and fresh oranges sliced up in it.  Dinner was roast chicken, potatoes, and vegetables.  The bill including tax and tip was $ 16 – for both of us.

After the first couple of rides I began to finally grasp the indelible mark that cycling has upon the island of Majorca.  Palm Springs, CA has over 100 golf courses.  It is the center of the universe for golfers.  Majorca has 75,000 cyclists arriving between January and April with the simple purpose of training and riding for enjoyment.  Majorca has to be the Palm Springs of cycling.  On any given day we might see upwards of 1,000 cyclists on the road.  There would be German or Dutch groups of a hundred cyclists all dressed in the same jerseys, single groups of individuals, or small groups like our own of 10 to twenty riders.

On Friday night they had an incredible Majorcan feast with sangria and a big party.  Stephen Roche arrived at dinnertime and proceeded to spend the whole dinner talking with each person or small group of people welcoming them to the camp and talking about cycling in general.  The next day he joined about twelve of us on a 60km ride with some pretty tough climbs.  Immediately after leaving the camp he came alongside me and started chatting away for the next 10 kms telling me about his family, commenting on Bernard Hinault and Eddie Mercx, telling me that he became a cyclist originally as an enthusiast and how he felt that he would continue to ride his bike recreationally for the rest of his life.  I remember asking him about his ability to speak so many languages – he spoke French, Italian, Spanish, and some German and he told me that he picked all of the language skills up in the peloton, never taking any formal training.

Later in the ride he and another Irish rider broke out into a couple of Irish songs while we were riding along.  About 10 km from the finish Stephen and I were talking about something not paying attention to the rest of the group which was a couple hundred yards ahead of us.  He turned to me and asked how my legs were feeling.  I remember saying that I felt okay so then he hammers down on the pedals without standing up and I just watched him start to accelerate away.  I mean you could see the acceleration. It was all I could do to stay on his wheel to catch the group.  By the time we caught up I was so redlined I got dropped again.  Meanwhile I hear Steven start a conversation with someone and he doesn’t even sound winded.  Give me a break.  Later he dropped back and pulled me up to the top of the next hill.  As we approached the outskirts of town he pulled over and waited to ride in with some of the slower riders.  The man impressed me as a very intelligent, outwardly friendly and sincere, yet a very humble guy.  If you met the guy on the street you would never have a clue the guy won the Tour de France at one point in his career. The whole experience was somewhat dreamlike.  I definitely came away from the Majorca and the camp very pleased with the whole experience.

Quite simply my suggestion, if you can afford it, is to quit your jobs immediately. Move to Majorca, France, or Italy and ride the beautiful roads each day until you die at a very old and very happy age.  That’s my dream.

Side Note:
When we left the Argeles sur Mer area in Southern France we both thought it was one of the nicest areas we had been in France.  Kristy and I have now spent some time in many areas of France and we both really enjoyed this particular area.  So much so that our future plans for PBP ’99 will probably include spending some time again in this area before PBP (Majorca is supposedly much too hot and humid in August).  In fact I am thinking it might be fun to spend the first week in France traversing the Pyrenees along the Raid Pyrenees route (approximately 700 km) from the Atlantic to the Mediterranean Sea in a kind of pre-PBP ride and then spending the week before PBP on the Mediterranean shore near Argeles sur Mer or Coulour relaxing and resting up before taking a train or car up to Paris for PBP.  The whole trip would be about three weeks.  If anyone is interested we could discuss the logistics sometime.

Also if anyone is interested I took quite a few slides of the trip and could show them at an upcoming meeting (assuming they process out completely).

See you on the Road, Pat

Ken Brooker, a consummate cyclist and old friend (and occasional antagonist) has left Seattle for gr$$ner pastures.  Before leaving Ken stopped by and visited a couple of us conveying an honesty and generosity uncommon to our self-indulgent society which brings to mind the following piece by brother Maynard.

Adair Lara writes terrific twice-weekly columns in the San Francisco Chronicle.  Recently, Lara wrote about her friend Anne Herbert who, in 1983, scribbled these words on a place mat in a Sausalito restaurant:  "Practice random acts of kindness and senseless acts of beauty."
Lara says Herbert calls herself a full-time worrier, that she "sees world history as a clash of hobbies."  Here's Herbert's explanation.  You should be able figure out why I feel it belongs in a cycling hobbyist book:
"Each of us," Herbert says, "has something we just naturally like to do - making quilts, listening to sermons, shooting guns, creating model airplanes.  We all tend to think the stuff we really like to do is way better than a hobby and fact, something everyone should do".  Much like most cyclists.
Some people do evil acts, according to Herbert, trying to convert others to their hobby, the hobby "everyone should do."  Even evil-doers, in their own minds are making the world better."
Instead of simply picking an activity and pursuing it, Herbert maintains, we become crusaders.  If that's true - and I think it is - we should pick our hobbies carefully.
"My hobby;" Herbert says, "is wondering how I could reduce the net cruelty in the world."
What an idea: reducing the net cruelty in the world.  Quite a chore, huh?  It'd take a ton of people and a ton of effort from each to make a microscopic dent in net global cruelty.  But every little bit of anti-cruelty helps.
I'd like to suggest you set aside some small percentage of the energy you normally apply to your cycling hobby and donate it to Herbert's hobby.  Apply a fraction of the money, sweat, time and persistence you invest in cycling or personal fitness; to "reducing the net cruelty in the world."
How can you do that?  I don't know that I can tell you how, the same way I can't tell you whom to vote for, or to work for, or whose records to buy.  You can figure it out for yourself.
Try this:  Imagine yourself practicing random acts of kindness.
Random acts of kindness.  Say the words out loud.  Do they bring to mind tender impulses nearly acted upon, gentle or generous deeds overdue, possibly never to be done?  Sincere compliments unpaid, gratitude unexpressed, love unreturned, persons unheeded?  You don't need me to finish this paragraph.  Write your own list.  Use the back of the page if you run out of room. Use Nevada.
I'm not suggesting you give up riding.  Ride 10 hours . . . and then spend one hour with some one really sick or really hurt or lonely.  Don't plan it, don't pencil it in, expect anything.  Make that act the most spontaneous of your day or week.
I'm not suggesting you deny yourself.  Buy that exotic road bike.  And afterward, go to your ATM, withdraw the equivalent of 10 percent of the money you paid for the bike, and use the money to make a difference, however fleeting, in someone's or a few someone's' lives.  Even if - if you sat and thought about it over a decaf latte - you might feel they haven't earned your help.  Don't judge them.  Help Them.
Chances are the differences you make in their lives will live in your mind longer than will the difference the new bike makes in your time up Hero Hill.  Perhaps not; help'em anyway.  Remember: net global cruelty.
Maybe after a while you'll get in the habit of committing those random acts of Kindness: They'll no longer be all that random.  To continue, you'll have to let your imagination run wild, conceiving ever more spontaneous caring acts.  That'd be okay, wouldn't it?
I'm not trying to provoke you to cut short even one brutal workout or keep you from relentless pursuit of your all-time best kick-ass form.  No way.
I'm just suggesting that Anne Herbert may have something here.  Try her hobby, the practice of random acts of kindness, one-10th of the time you spend at yours, the practice of pursuing personal fitness.
After all, 10 hours of intervals, cross-training and gym work will make your legs heavy.  One frivolous hour chipping away at world cruelty will put wings on your feet.  

These new members are driving me crazy with requests.  The latest is for a serious training rides between our brevets.  I mentioned some of the rides I enjoy and they were eager to give it a go. We in the NW are blessed with absolutely stunning cycling terrain.  I’m proposing a king of the mountain serious that would include such classics as:
  Hurricane Ridge
  Cle Elum - Blewett Pass - Leavenworth and return
  Skykomish - Stevens Pass - Leavenworth and return
  Mt. Rainier - 3 hills (Cayuse, Sunrise and Crystal Mt.) and the Packwood, Paradise, Skate Creek loop.
  Triple Pass - Cayuse, White and Chinook Passes
  Other possibilities are a Mt. St. Helens loop and Newhalem - Mazama mama and return

If you have a favorite kick-ass climb let me know and we’ll include it, give me some input on dates and we'll get'em scheduled.  If this series is of interest to you let me know so we can plan accordingly.  They are planned as informal club rides, bring your pain meter and bragging rites.  "Bakery Joe" need not apply.

John.

This year SIR is blessed with a group of new and enthusiastic members.  They don’t come with extensive endurance riding experience much less the variety of unsupported randonneuring style.  Presumably they do have the resolve to work through the obstacles that inevitably will challenge each of them.

On the surface our sport of riding hours or days on end with little sleep, eating crummy food and sitting on what feels like a 2 X 4 may sound romantic (to a few) but more likely appears daunting if not downright stupid and masochistic.  Take consolation, there is a method to this apparent madness.  Sitting in a tavern the other night talking with one of these wide eyed neophyte members brought back memories of my introduction to cycling and eventually the randonneuring experience.  I only recount these events because they demonstrate how small progressive moves can lead to initially unimaginable accomplishments.  The graduated distance of the brevet series is designed to not only test muscle and machine but more importantly build confidence and the mental toughness required to go the distance.

Ten years ago I thought it would be truly cool to commute to work on a bicycle.  The one way distance of 22.5 miles seemed an imposing if not impossible task.  I first tested the route on a Saturday.  Leaving home on a 10 speed with no tools or water, I was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt.  It was a warm summer day in the 80’s.  I made it to my place of employment but had little left for the return.  When I did get to within a mile of home I had to stop at a favorite tavern to resuscitate myself with brew and burger.  As I slumped on the bar my friends look horrified at my condition but then couldn’t contain their laughter when I explained what I just did.  I dearly hoped this was as bad as it would get.  After the 45 mile round trip commute became common place I looked for more challenge.  Seattle to Portland (STP) appeared as formidable as that first commute.  Two years of two day STP’s were followed by the same 190 miles in one day.  Back then you only whispered the word "RAMROD."  Only cycling Goliath’s were capable of riding 156 miles and 10 K elevation gain in half a day.  Surprisingly, I cracked 9 hours in my first RAMROD.  This stuff wasn’t as tough as your brain lead you to believe.  With each longer and more difficult ride the confidence built.  I heard of something called Cannonball, Seattle to Spokane on Hwy. I-90.  Up to this point I had been riding solo but decided to ask a friend to drive support for me on this one.  His response was "I don’t want to drive to Spokane much less support your ass on a skinny tire bicycle."  This turned out to be a godsend making me more determined to ride the 295 miles unsupported.  It was a great ride with a big tail wind, the heat not much over 90 and I made a lot of new and strange friends.  The goal was to finish before dark and I beat the sunset by 4 hours.  I was beginning to figure this stuff out.  The following year a new ride "S2S" was introduced.  Seattle to Spokane on Hwy. 2 was far more scenic and substantially tougher than Cannonball, taking 4 hours longer to complete.  Also, about this time a 750 mile event called Paris Brest Paris (PBP) was getting a lot of press, mostly due to its recent Centennial event.  PBP draws 3,000 + riders from around the globe with the next edition in ’95 and qualifying starting in ’94.  Seattle International Randonneurs (SIR) was born and long term, long distance friendships were formed.  I wouldn’t say the journey has been easy but certainly not as difficult as imagined.  Through randonneuring and PBP I’ve made friends from Australia and New Zealand to Scandinavia and look back with pride and forward to sharing this marvelous enduring experience with all who accept the challenge.

CLASSIC CYCLE RACES OF EUROPE
23 race routes to ride your self.
Author: Rudolf Geser
Available on Amazon.com

Here is a superb book to tease and torment your mind.  We have all dreamed of riding the classic cycling race routes in Europe and this book will suck you into planning one or more Walter Mitty adventures.  The routes, the same ones the pros race, are ridden as citizen races or tours.  For each route all the information you need to participate in an organized event or plan your own itinerary is listed.  This includes: best date to ride, distance, total elevation gain, highest climb, recommended gearing, start location, accommodations, start time, entry fee, feed stations, approximate number of participants, contact address, miscellaneous information, a graph showing the distance on the x axis and elevation on the y axis (most routes look like the bottom jaw of a approaching great white shark), a general map of the area with route hi-lighted, and multi-page narrative description with photographs of what to expect while riding.

The routes are categorized into 3 groupings.  The first is 7 early season single day "Classics" including legends like Lieg-Bastogne-Liege, Paris-Roubaix, Fleche Wallonne, and Milan-San Remo.  Next up are 5 alpine multi-stage "Europa Cup Marathons" in Austria,  Germany and Italy.  Lastly  is "Other" with 11 routes like the International Tour of Santis, Nine Hills Apennine, La Fausto Coppi-Cuneo and Alpine Tourest Trial to mention a few.  Even if you mistakenly resist the desire to go and ride one or more of these routes the reading and  dream induced state are out of category.  

Location: Teo’s
Attendance: 22
Presiding: Larry Ricker, Regional Brevet Administrator
Minutes taken by: Kendall
Meeting formally started at 7:45 and immediately focused on the ‘98 brevets.

Brevet report:
200 km – Ellen "Max" Maxon,  Plans to a similar route as last year.  This route starts near Snohomish, goes up to Arlington, back to Sultan, Duvall, Stillwater, back up West Snoqualmie Valley road, Highbridge and back to Snohomish.  Possible minor changes to the route sheet requested are making the Cherry Valley turn clearer by noting as the second Cherry Valley Road, and that the turn is "in Duvall" which climbs a short 50 foot hill past school.

300 km – Ken Carter,  Plans same route as last year around Hood canal.  No changes.

400 km – Don Harkleroad.  Start at Monroe park by river.  US2 Stevens Pass, Blewet Pass, Snoq. Pass, back up W Snoq. Valley Rd.  and back to Monroe.  TerryZ offered to use his house as starting point.  Terry lives a few miles from intersection of Woodinville-Duvall road / W. Snoq. Valley Road.  There was much concern about getting riders back down I-90 in daylight.  The start was moved to Monroe to help get people further on course before dark.  This year we will have more daylight hours, start closer to US2, and possibly start earlier.  Don will look at timing of starting at TerryZ’s house.

Don H. will also run a 400 km ride on 6/13 starting from East Wenatchee.  There will be no pre-ride of this one.  Larry to check on viability of making this an official SIR brevet.  Route similar to 1996 400 km.  John W. noted that the IR organization prefers we sanction only the official rides submitted in October.

600 km TerryZ – Terry offered same course as last year or Mt Rainier or Olympic Peninsula.  No comments from members.  Terry suggests standard route (same as last year) with start at his house with shuttle up to Monroe for official start, but finish at Terry’s house where people can shower.  Start up US2 and back via Highway 20.  That direction seems safest.

Fleche NW – no teams yet, need 3 by March 15 to stage this event.  Wenatchee will be the banquet location.
No response from Portland Randonneurs about using Centralia as a finish point.
There are people who want to ride the Fleche NW, but not people to lead a team.  Ken Carter volunteered to captain a team.
John W. will keep a list of people who are interested in riding.  Kendall has routes from previous years in Excel spreadsheet format.  TerryZ volunteers to captain a team but would prefer to ride on Ken’s team.  Wayne Methner (a new member) volunteers as a team caption.

Bill Dussler treasury report:
$100 donation was made to LAB.  Newsletter and previous GM meeting refreshment expenses paid.
Membership applications available at the meeting.  (Many people turned in applications at the meeting.)

SIR Charter. – Larry explained we need the charter to be a viable club.  The SIR charter is modeled after another bike club.  Comments welcome.  Larry highlighted some possibly contentious issues.  All members are individual (no family memberships)  January due date for membership.  No refunds.  Join in November and you pay for the whole year anyway.

Executive board (EB) with 5 people to do the routine things, but membership approves major items.  Members of the EB are appointed by the director.

New Washington State law: organized stage races must register with state highway patrol.  Randonneuring to be excluded from this law.

We will use LAB insurance again since it worked well last year.

Minor wording problem with Charter noted by Max Maxon.

Treasurer notes that there will be no taxes that are applicable.  Line in Charter pertaining to treasurer responsible for paying taxes to be deleted since we have no taxes.

Vote on charter as stands with 2 amendments approved by all members present.

Medallions for ’97 brevets - were mailed directly to individuals without knowledge of Larry and this caused some confusion.

International Randonneurs (IR) not responding to SIR inquires.  Suggest writing letter expressing concerns of the club.  TerryZ suggests working with other clubs instead of writing our own letter.

Bypassing Konski is suggested but would require SIR contact to be fluent French.

Larry experiences no return for email or letter.

Larry will circulate letter to club members before sending.

Will email letter to other regional brevet directors.

New members are interested in a seminar on riding a Brevet with info on Lights, shoes, and philosophy.  Don volunteered to lead this.  Will put on at Teo’s or in conjunction with Bike Expo in February.

RCC and SIR will combine at a booth for bike expo.   John will provide a stand with Randonneuring/SIR handouts.  There will be several people who are both SIR and RCC members at the booth.

Brevet cards for ‘97 were handed out.

New business?   Aero bars? A joke!!! No rule changes.

SIR Jersey discussion - Ken Carter volunteers to lead this effort but will need some help.  Ken will find out costs and details.  Everyone seemed to like the previous SIR jersey and many seemed to believe a new copy of it (sans PBP 95 logo) would be easy and really nice.

SIR 22nd out of 183 IR clubs in world randonneuring according to points.

100 km Ernie Grillo not present

Suggest each experienced SIR member informally take on a new member and help them get started.

8:49 meeting adjourns.

So far we have at least 3 Fleche team captions Ken Carter, TerryZ and Wayne Methner.  Each claims they will ride close to the minimum 360 Km distance and are looking for team members.  Please let me (John Wagner 206 782-8965) know if  1.) if you intend to ride in the SIR Fleche and  2.) if you have a preference for a team.
I will make reservations for Sunday's post ride banquet and awards in Wenatchee as soon as I have a reasonable head count for team members and guests.  A perennial trophy will be awarded.  This year only it will be for the least miles (closest to the minimum 360 Km, 224 miles.) All finishers will receive a commemorative personalized certificate of completion.

One of the things I noticed at the finish line of PBP was a number of riders with sore necks and shoulders and numbness of hands and feet.  Riding with this kind of discomfort has to impair your decision making, your safety and in general your attitude will suffer.  At least two such participants have since purchased new bikes with a shorter top tube, for a more upright and balanced riding position.  Before setting off on a long distance adventure make sure you are riding a proper sized bike that it is set up to fit you and set up for comfort.  The book Road Racing by Bernard HINAULT has an indispensable section on this subject

What works for me:
I use a Carbon Fiber frame, it doesn't rust and Girvin suspension stem to absorb much of the road shock especially when riding on that infernal chipseal for hours on end.  Carbon Fiber has a unique ability to dampen vibration, the Girvin is for insurance.

But let's start at the ground. The single most important component on your bicycle is the wheels.  A set of high quality hand built wheels with premium tires is the most cost effective investment in comfort and reliability you can make. Spoke tension is the key and is an art that machine built or a builder lacking experience can’t  duplicate.  Spring for a good set and you'll never regret it.  I've heard that Titanium spokes offer even more comfort but the price is prohibitive.  I like 23 - 25 c Continental tires inflated with 100 lbs.  More tire pressure only reduces comfort not rolling resistance.  Conti's offer a ride close to tubulars and wear like iron.  Keviar belted tires give a noticeably harsher ride and if you pay attention to where you point your bike and the road surface, their alleged protection from flatting is of little benefit.

Balanced weight distribution of gear and your body is critical.  A stem set too low and your neck and shoulders suffer. Too much weight up high on the rear rack and handling can get dangerous.  I use a handle bar bag not only because it dispenses goodies conveniently but it helps the balance.  I cant my seat a few degrees to the right of center because my buttocks is not symmetrical.  I used to get saddle sores and my shorts would wear thin always on the left side before this adjustment.

Pilots pre-flight check an airplane before heading into the blue yonder because they can't afford mechanical problems.  Start doing the same to your bike before each ride. Keep your bike clean and check for initial signs of cracking at stress points, there have been an alarming number of near frame failures due to internal rust recently and more to come with the advent of oversized thin wall tubing.  Pay attention to the little things like your shoe cleats being tight or a loose head set.  Bounce the bike and listen for strange sounds.  Investigate creaks and rattles, they may be the portent of impending doom if left alone.  Wiggle the wheels checking for properly adjusted bearings and making sure your skewers are tight.  I heard that Eddy MERCKX carried an extra seat binder bolt, it could literally save your buns. Paying attention is merely a habit to develop and could make the difference between having a great ride or getting stranded in some hell hole or worse, Montana.

Update - After PBP ’95 I sustained about 3 months of genital numbness.  As a preventive measure I now ride a Softride beam bike (prostate saver) and have ridden the Rocky Mountain 1200 and Scandinavian 1200 on it with only minor discomfort.

Congratulations SIR's.  Your efforts earned SIR a ranking of  #22 out of 133 randonneuring clubs running events in '97 and contributed to a 4th place out of 16 countries for USA (IR.)  Had ACP acknowledged Jennifer Wise's 1200 Km BMB the USA would have had 2951 Total points.

The complete listing is at:  http://www.announce.com/bluegrasscyclingclub/BRM/English/rm1997.html