D2R2, Round 2!

Most people who ride the D2R2 for the first time say that they are definitely going to come back and do it again the following year. That's probably the best indicator of how great a ride Sandy Wittlesey and the Franklin Land Trust have put together and offer up to challenge-loving cyclists.  In my case, I followed up and really did come back for a second helping.  I was not disappointed!

Jeanne did not accompany me this year, going away to take care of her mom, instead.  This left me with the prospect of driving my truck all the way to Massachusetts.  I was toying with the idea of riding down and back, but was saved when Stephen Taylor offered to carpool with me.  It meant that I had to go through Lincoln, which added maybe 45 minutes each way, but it was definitely worth it, not only to save energy, but because he turned out to be a super nice guy.  He had two friends he was going to meet down there and who he was planning on doing the ride with.  They pulled in right after us, taking the adjacent tent site.  They both proved to be a lot of fun as we went out and had a great dinner at a little Thai restaurant in Greenfield, with great food and service at reasonable prices and no waiting.

Last year, we camped at White Birch Campground, a few miles south of the ride start.  I heard from friends who camped at the event that they had a great time chatting with the Independent Fabrication folks, who were there in force, and generally socializing.  That was the big reason why I looked forward to camping at the start this year.  This proved to be a disappointment.  The site was a recently harvested cornfield, and thus quite lumpy.  The only amenities were two porta-pottys, there was no socializing, but cars coming in and people setting up camp until early morning and a very noisy generator that ran until after midnight, starting up again at 4:40 am.  Last year, for an extra five bucks, we had grass, quiet, and showers at the campground.  Hmm.

The good thing about our camping spot was that it took 30 seconds to get to the organization tent.  My description of the D2R2's structure is "The organization is tight, while the rules are loose."  For me, these are the keys to a great cycling event, and organizers of non-racing events would do well to work toward this goal in everything they do.  They even dropped the intermediate check-ins at the break spots.  Sandy's explanation was that there are so many ways to cheat the course, what's the point?  I'm totally with you on that, Sandy!

There was a nice selection of bagels, baked items, fruit, jersey pocket food and most importantly, lots of coffee to get us going.  There was no lack for tables and seating, and all the volunteers were incredibly friendly and helpful.  I can't imagine how anyone could do a better job of being cheerful while meeting all the needs of the riders.

I was in the group at the 6 am start.  Sandy Whittlesey is in the cap and green fleece.  I want a pair of those shorts with the reflective patches on the back like that guy with the Camelback!  A Camelback is way overkill, by the way.  Unless it's a really hot day, there are enough breaks and water drops that most riders could get by with a single water bottle.

The lead group out of the gate proved to be more mellow than last year's.  Though it quickly whittled down to about 10 riders, I was able to stay with them for the first 25 miles, before I decided that I would be better backing off a little, knowing my limitations and what was coming.

Conditions were great, all day.  It was cool enough that I wore a wind vest for the first 30 miles.  There was an overcast all day, which cut the sun's heat and glare, but there was plenty of light to see.  We had an issue right after coming out of the first narrow dirt road, pictured above, as the road improved and we came into houses.  I guess residents get used to the lack of traffic coming out of this part of the road, as a careless guy started backing up his pickup from his driveway at an alarming rate, right into the lead riders.  A chorus of shouts woke the guy up and saved us from starting the day with a disaster.  The ride goes over three historic covered bridges.

You need to be careful going into the Burkeville covered bridge, as there's a chain you need to go around.  This is especially important to remember if you're trying to use a camera while you are riding!

Being in the lead group, we were the first cyclists of the day to go by.  Riding by one farm, we startled a donkey in a barnyard, right next to the road.  He put his front hooves on top of the wooden fence and let loose with the loudest and longest braying of protest that I've ever heard.  I wished I could have gotten a photo of him--it was a riot to experience.

Poland Gate is an ancient rock cut at the summit of Poland Rd.  Very neat.  The other riders had gone through while I slowed down, fumbling with the camera.

The D2R2 routes over a number of what Vermont would call "Class 4 roads," meaning public roads that receive minimal or even no maintenance.  This little two-track is indicative.  The conditions had been dry, leaving many of the dirt roads sandy and stony.  You had to stay attentive to keep out of the loose spots that could stop you in a hurry and recently graded roads had a lot of stones sitting on top.  For tires, I was riding a mismatched pair of older slicks whose actual measurements were 28.5mm front and 33mm rear.  These were a great compromise for the conditions.  Even people with (nominal) 28C tires were saying they wished they had something a little wider.  There were lots of places where the riders on mountain bikes had the best tires, but most riders agreed that they wouldn't want to be riding fat knobbies all day.  It would have been excellent to be on a pair of plushy Grand Bois Hetres!

I stupidly have forgotten this guy's name, but he was from Brattleboro and I ran into him several times over the course of the day.  Here, he's summiting South Heath Rd, just before the first break.

The cue sheet was three letter-sized pages long, requiring constant attention as there were so many turns.  Here the rider is reading the cue sheet while passing through the ubiquitous pastoral scene.  I had made up a custom cue sheet that would fit in my jersey pocket and printed it out on waterproof paper.  It worked great until I lost it about half-way through the ride.  After that, it was a combination of last year's distant memories, looking for the tracks of other bikes, staying with other riders, or just plain waiting at an intersection for someone else to come along that kept me on course.

The breaks were nicely spaced. I rode through the first water stop, giving me a very brief opportunity to be the lead rider on the course. That didn't last long! The actual breaks included fruit, pocket food, extra gels, and powder mixes (Hammer provided mixes, gels and electrolyte pills for free, but there was Gatorade mix as well.  They even had multiple flavors, including orange--my favorite!).  Also available were pickles, watermelon and salt, the three major food groups for cyclists.

The route was speckled with classic New England buildings, including lots of Federal style churches, town meeting houses and farmhouses, and innumerable ancient barns and farm buildings.

This road was perhaps at the far limit of condition of the roads of the day.  It wasn't really hard to ride, but you would probably not be able to get a standard 2WD sedan up it, at least not without scraping the undercarriage and perhaps losing a few parts.  On the other end of the spectrum were smooth, paved roads, some of which were a hoot to ride, with fast descents and tight, but sweeping curves.

The road actually crosses this pond.  I think it was on Colrain Pond Rd.

I didn't even try getting a picture while climbing the 27% loose gravel Archambo Rd climb, which I cleaned again this year.  Stephen Taylor called it "Rambo Hill."  The photo above was taken near the summit of Hillman Rd, which comes right after "Rambo" and seems tougher.  It's much less steep, but quite a long pull.

The state line marker at mile 53.  If I'm reading the dates correctly, this marker has been there 114 years.  It was shortly after this I realized I had lost my cue sheet.  I figured I had dropped it only a couple miles back, but there were hills I really didn't want to have to climb again, so I pressed on.

Lunch was again at the Green River covered bridge, which must be the perfect spot to take a break on a bike ride.  Just before the break is a long, steep descent down Josh Rd.  I went down it too fast last year and hit some rough stuff so hard my brake levers moved down the handlebars, something that has never happened to me before.  I was taking it a bit easier this year, but staying with some other riders who were keeping up a good pace.  The road was bumpy and the tree cover made for a lot of mottled shadows that left the surface hard to read, especially at speed.  Not far from the bottom, I hit either a hole or rock so hard I almost lost it.  It made a heck of a bang, but I was able to stay upright, prompting multiple calls of "Nice save, man," from the other riders.  It spooked me enough that I almost didn't make the sharp left onto a narrow bridge at the bottom, banking right into the rail on the the side of the bridge.  Checking the bike at the break revealed a nice flat spot in the rim, though the tire was fine and the wheel was rideable without any attention with a spoke wrench.
 

There were tasty catered sandwiches and pasta salad at the lunch spot, along with all the other goodies and lots of friendly volunteers and happy cyclists.  I chatted with some of the Vermont contingent and met up with Norm Lafleur, who was volunteering and who I haven't seen for a few years.  I must have dallied longer than I thought at the break, though, because my legs felt like lead on the long climb out of the valley.

The rest of the ride went well.  I was tired, but never cramped.  This may have been the result of being in good condition, but I'm going to give some credit to Hammer's electrolyte replacement products, too.  I found the drink mix almost tasty, certainly better than tolerable, and, just before Patton Hill, I even used the gel pack they gave me.  I have only had a gel once before, several years ago, and found it so disgusting I didn't want to try one again. The Hammer gel was fine, though, and it certainly didn't hurt me any.  Patton Hill is super steep and paved at the start, becoming a long, steady grind after it turns to dirt. Many riders end up walking the last section, though I didn't have much trouble with it, beyond keeping traction, at times.

This is the top of the last climb, on the very rough Hawks Rd, last dirt road of the day.  I had been with this strong rider for about 15 miles, as she had a cue sheet and was nice enough to help me with the turns.  I reciprocated by taking the lead on the familiar final paved section, getting our pace up as we cruised by the 100K riders until crossing the finish at 28 mph.  A flying finish for a fantastic ride.

You get an awful lot for your $75 D2R2 entry fee.  Though it's a fund raiser, they don't skimp on provisions.  There was a nice, catered dinner waiting for us, with all the food you wanted.  I spent a leisurely time winding down, eating, chatting with other riders, and looking at the cool bikes people were riding.

The Sylvan guys were back with a more polished version of their wooden bike.  They had one for people to test ride, if you wanted to.  The frame is $3,600, if you're interested in one. They've improved the lugs dramatically from the one they showed last year.

An exquisite J. P. Weigle

Perhaps the highlight of the day was getting a chance to chat with Peter Weigle at dinner.  I haven't seen him in person since the New York Bike Show in the early 1980s.  He's a very approachable guy, especially considering the fact that no one makes a classier steel frame than he does.  He is among the best of the best in framebuilding and his bikes are among the prettiest things with two wheels.  He turned down my offer of my glass of Preservation Ale, so I gave it to Stephen, instead.  Last year, Richie Sachs rode by me so fast that I didn't recognize him.  This year, I wore my Richard Sachs jersey in the hopes that he would maybe say hello, or give me a dope slap on the way by but, sadly, I didn't see the great man.

While Stephen finished his dinner, I packed up camp and looked at some of the other cool bikes.  There were several of these Circle As and any number of other unique and/or beautiful frames.  I even saw a classic Reynolds 753 tubed Raleigh Team professional someone had retrofitted with cantilevers and wide tires.  Very cool, especially in how well they matched the color where they repainted the area of the canti brazeons.  Even though the ride back to Lincoln was three hours, Stephen and I didn't run out of things to talk about, so many interesting things had happened during the day.  He said he would be coming back next year to do the 180k, as he had definitely been bitten by the D2R2 bug.  Like I said, one ride and you're hooked.

My ride time was 8:34 for 112 miles, 14 minutes better than last year.  I didn't check the time I finished, but I'm sure that my total time will be much better, as I didn't have the mechanical problems that dogged me, last year.  Elevation change for the ride is hard to definitively establish, so I'll go with the 12,850' of climbing that another rider's GPS recorded over the route last year, as it falls nicely in the 10,000'-16,000' range claimed by various sources.

Prepping for the D2R2

It's been a great season, even if I haven't been writing about it.  The 100/200 went off like a charm, with a few less people than last year, but still a really great crew to ride with.  Hot, and with a headwind, it was one of the toughest editions I've ridden.  There have been a number of other great rides as well, and I hope to get the chance to come back and write about them when things slow down.

 With the D2R2 only a week away, I decided to take a wonderful Saturday, when I should have been finishing building my woodshed, and slide in a training ride, instead.  I had it in mind that I would ride a few gaps, including the mysterious Braintree Gap, which I had tried unsuccessfully to find a couple of weeks ago, and try to hit as much dirt in between as possible.  I put a 28 tooth chainring on the triple and headed out at 8 am, riding the Duxbury Rd to Waterbury and then onto pavement, until taking the shortcut up Lovers' Lane to the great little bridge that is now closed to autos.

View of the Mad River upstream from Lovers Lane Bridge

Shortly after turning onto VT 100B, I was thinking of how I had noticed some dirt roads up on the mountains to the left when looking at the maps and  was ready when I saw Moretown Common Rd come up.  I hadn't planned on riding it, but I knew where it came out and decided to go for it.  It turned out to be a very nice climb on the other side of the Mad River, with some nice views at the top.  Here's one of some old barns with Camels Hump in the distance.

As it turns out, there are some roads that would have made the route easier, but climbing was something I wanted to do, so I'll just save that away for another day.

After a nice descent to the end of the Common Rd, it was on to Moretown Mtn Rd.  It's officially a "gap", at least according to the USGS, but it's fairly easy, at just over 1560' elevation at the top.  There's a very brief, but impressive view of Camels Hump right at the top.  The road then turns a little, so it's the only view you get.

Looking back at Camels Hump at the top of Moretown Gap

A little after cresting Moretown Gap, I missed the unmarked turn onto Devils Washbowl Rd. and had to back up the hill a ways to catch it. What a great name! It's a narrow little track, with a bit of climbing, but very enjoyable.

I wound around on the dirt roads, skirting Northfield, and came across a dandy little blackberry patch along the road. The berries are just starting to get ripe here and some were huge, as you can see. Very tasty.

I came out on the Warren Mtn Rd, but Roxbury Gap was not on the agenda today.  I was set on finding the "Missing Gap," as I was calling it.  I had spotted Braintree Gap on Google Maps and had intended to ride it a couple of weeks ago, but I missed the turn and ended up riding back over Roxbury Gap, instead.  This time. I had studied the satellite view carefully and knew exactly where the turn should be.  It looked like a driveway and had signs saying "No Outlet," but I didn't let that stop me.  At first, the road was quite rideable on my Gunnar Crosshairs cyclocross bike.  I was running smooth 32mm tires, which worked well on the crushed rock.  The road was steep and unrelenting, with lots of waterbars.  There was nothing that could be called flat, all the way to the top.  There's been a lot of logging in the past few years, and the road was obviously improved  for this purpose.  A 4-wheel drive auto with good ground clearance should be able to make it up to the last log landing without too much trouble, but it would be an adventure.

About a third of the way up, I came across prodigious blackberry patches along both sides of the road.  A good excuse to stop, I spent quite awhile, eating berries until I actually got tired of them.  I don't know that that's ever happened to me before--I love blackberries!  I stopped at a spot where a tiny stream, cold enough that it must have been spring-fed, ran right across the road.  it was a great opportunity to cool down, rinse off and clean up the berry stains.  As you can see in the photo, the road was getting pretty gnarly.  The photos do no justice to how steep the road really is.

After this, the road got even steeper and more rough.  I took this photo after coming to a grinding halt, losing traction on the large rocks.  I might have been able to go a little farther if I could have stayed in the center, but it was so steep that, even then, I may not have been able to get traction.  It was definitely mountain bike material, though I only had to walk a couple of short sections.  Braintree Gap peaks at 2490', just 30' shy of Lincoln Gap.  While Lincoln Gap's steep section starts around 1400', Braintree starts at 815' elevation.  It's one nasty climb!

The road down was a different story, entirely.  There were several sections when I was way off the back of the saddle, trying not to pitch over the bars.  I actually walked more on the descent than the climb, as it was just too gnarly and steep for a non-suspension bike with narrow tires.  You'd be banging up the bottom of that Subaru Outback if you tried to drive it down this, and you would never make it at all, headed the other way.  There were drops of over a foot in several places.  Here's a view back up the trail.

I'm going to have to come back with a mountain bike sometime.  The section below was more like riding down a stream bed, complete with gurgling water, in spite of the dry weather.

I came out on North Hollow Rd in Granville, and welcomed the respite for my hands, sore from the pounding and the death grip I had on the brakes.  A short run on the blessedly smooth pavement of Rte 100, and then it was time to turn off onto Plunkton Rd, another dirt road I've never ridden.  A bit of up and down and then the nice descent on pavement into Warren for a welcome break at the Warren Country Store.  Another rider there said the road construction on Lincoln Gap had proceeded to the point where it was rideable, so I headed out to do what I now see as Vermont's second toughest climb.  Thankfully, the construction ends right where the super steep stuff starts.  I made it to the top without any real difficulty with my 28x27 granny gear, and it was down the back side. I wasn't careful enough, though, and overheated the rim to the point that a patch failed, leaving me to fix the only flat of the day.

The pavement, once it started up again, was all fresh and new.  Asphalt is slow when it's first laid, but oh, so smooth. I recollected that there were some dirt roads that might connect through, and I tried a few, but they all petered out, leaving me to return to the pavement until getting to Lincoln.

From Lincoln, it was onto the Quaker St. climb and then Downingville Rd. There's one abandoned section that I like to ride, while it's still possible.  It always makes me think of some post-Apocalypse tale.

I took another break at the Jerusalem Store on Rte 17, where the clerk complained, but filled my water bottle.  "We don't usually do this because we sell water," she said.  So much for Yankee frugality and hospitality. Sorry, but bottles and trucks are far less efficient than pipes for moving water. I'd pay 50 cents for a water bottle refill, if the shop keeper needed the money that bad.  It would be cheaper, and I bet she'd make a better profit and she wouldn't even need to order it, put it in the cooler or pay to refrigerate it.

My path home led right by the bottom of Appalachian Gap, and I couldn't talk myself out of the opportunity to slide in an August ride to the top (keeping my multi-year, monthly App Gap record intact), so it was a not-so-quick run to the top, the obligatory snapshot, then back down before heading home on the Huntington Rd.

The D2R2 website recommends training with centuries that include 10,000' of climbing.  This ride was 110 miles with 9,300', which seems fine, considering that some of the roads were actually worse than anything on the D2R2.  I think I'm ready for next Saturday's fun!

I posted these photos and more to Picassa

First Century of 2010

Never having ridden 100 miles in a day in January before, I decided to try turning my monthly Appalachian Gap ride into a century attempt. Saturday was the second day of a January thaw, and I headed out a bit late, at 1 pm, with temps in the mid-30s. I drove to the end of the dirt road to start on a road bike, my trusty Atala fair-weather commuter, a low-end racer from the early '80s, to which I had fitted fenders and a rack. In spite of its carbon steel "Tullio" tubing, the bike's classic Italian racing geometry makes it a nice riding machine. I have replaced most of the low-end Campy and other Italian parts over the years with less interesting, but more functional mid-range Shimano bits, though I kept the Modolo Flash brakes, just to keep a little of the traditional "excitement" in the bike.

The ride started out well, with the sun peeking out from time to time. The ride up the Gap was uneventful. I felt pretty good and got a few honks and waves from cars coming back the other way. I was protected from the wind until the very top. The road was clear all the way over and, with the chilly wind and not much of a view, I only stopped long enough to zip up. Part way down the other side, I thought I'd stop and grab a photo of the eastern view and was reminded of the limitations of my old Italian brakes, taking a hundred yards or so to stop!

Approaching the top of App Gap

The ride down the other side was uneventful, with the exception of the Mad River Glen ski area. I've seen dairy cattle that paid more attention to traffic than downhill skiers, headed for their cars. I skipped German Flats Rd, not wanting to tangle with more skiers from Sugarbush, and bounced along the broken pavement of Rte 100, south of Waitesfield, heading toward Granville Gulf. Although it was only 30 miles into the ride, and I hated to waste the daylight, I had skipped lunch and was getting hungry, so I stopped at the store between Waitesfield and Warren. It's quite nice for a convenience store, lots of glass, always warm inside and a couple of tables at which to relax. A piece of thick, fresh pizza turned out to be a good choice and I drank a large bottle of Gatorade, as I warmed my feet.

It took only about five minutes of brisk riding to get my body heat back up, when I hit the road again. I rode over the top of Granville Gulf and headed down to the falls, where I took a couple of uninteresting photos of the frozen cascade before turning around and heading back up. The ride back down was not as chilly as I expected and I crossed the covered bridge in Warren and headed up the Brook Rd climb. Interestingly, this route peaks at almost the same elevation as Granville Gulf, but does it in a lot less distance. I came out at the covered bridge in Waitesfield, turning on my lights halfway down the descent. I looped down Rte 100B to Middlesex, so I could pick up a loaf of bread at the bike-friendly Red Hen bakery, wondering if this type of supplies run would meet with more approval by Mr. BikeSnobNYC better than Pizza Fixation? No cockles lost their lives dressing up that slice of pizza and there was certainly nothing hip about my rusty, salt-covered Atala, or my cheesy neoprene shoe covers.

The "lazy window" on the house next to
this Warren barn is a Vermont classic.

I chugged against a cold headwind all the way back to Jonesville. Approaching Waterbury, I realized that I couldn't read my bike computer anymore, because the wind was pulling too much water out of my eyes, blurring my vision. Does cycling get any better than this? I averaged a mere 15 mph, but I was in no rush and had done over a mile of sometimes steep vertical gain. All-in-all, a memorable first century of the year, and one that reminded me of how just staying in shape isn't enough if you want to ride long distances. I was quite wiped at the end. I also noticed that, even though you don't get thirsty when working out in the winter, you need to keep drinking. I drank only the Gatorade and a couple of swigs of water during the ride and found myself incredibly thirsty for the next 12 hours and with a dehydration headache the next day.

More pics on Picasa.

Riding my age on Christmas Day

I checked the weather, and it seemed that the best conditions coming up for riding might just be Christmas day, with no precipitation in the forecast and temps in the mid-20s. I really wanted to wrap up the extended saga of our order of two sets of Ay-Up lights, so I decided to ride the 54-mile loop up to David Tremblay's house in Moretown and pick up the light I loaned him when Ay-Up shorted us one unit. David and I had gone in together on the order to get free freight. When his light was missing, I gave him one of the two I had ordered, while we waited for his to come from Down-Under. The folks at Ay-Up were great, and their lights are not only superb, they are an excellent value. However, this would be the third trip out to David's to straighten things out!

The ride was very enjoyable. Having suffered cold feet earlier in the week riding into work, I tried pulling out the insoles of my winter riding shoes and replacing them with a pair of chemical foot warmers. This did not prove to be all that effective. I could feel the warmth for perhaps the first ten miles, but after that they cooled off and eventually didn't seem to be doing much of anything. There was a light northeast breeze, which slowed me a little on the way out, but made up for it on the way back.

The dirt roads were smooth, but I was reminded when I strayed onto the smooth, icy patches to get back to the snowier sections! Vehicle tires tend to clear the snow and glaze the ice, and the studded tires slipped around when I strayed off the crunchier center sections. I rode out the Duxbury Road, knowing that the road would be nice down by the river. I expected very little traffic, but there were a fair number of cars around.

I decided against climbing Rte 100 up out of Waterbury and stuck to the river until Middlesex. I thought about climbing up the Lovers Lane shortcut, but I was wearying of the icy dirt roads and didn't want to slog through the snow on the abandoned bridge, so I continued on the clear pavement to Middlesex and enjoyed the ride up Rte 100B. I stopped for a few minutes to chat with Bob Lindemann, who was out jogging, then up to Moretown and the climb up the Moretown Mtn Rd. The Moretown snowplow must have a serrated blade, because there were ridges in the icy surface, making things a tad exciting at times, but there were only a couple of cars and the going was fine. South Hill Rd. was easier than it had been before the snow, when it was covered with freshly graded loose sand.

Picasa Photos

David wasn't there, but I picked up the light and headed back. My feet were starting to get chilled, so I took Rte 100 through Duxbury and came back on Rte 2. I stuck to the generator light as it got dark, as the half-moon above the clouds was keeping things light. An uneventful climb back up to the dirt road got me home right about the time my feet were making the transition from cold to numb. The insoles were cold to the touch, but five minutes later, they were steaming--the fickle things. Final mileage was 54.5, my exact age!

Greylock!

In the spring of 1978, I had just met a really nice girl, who had come into the shop right at closing to buy toe clips for her new Schwinn LeTour. I installed them in the parking lot and summoned up the nerve to ask her for a ride, ostensibly to make sure she was able to use them properly. During the short jaunt, I found the courage to ask her for a date. That worked out well, but it was Friday and she said that she had already made plans to leave town to see her mom that weekend. I spent that Saturday riding one of my favorites--out to the top of Greylock and back--thinking about her the whole way. As it turned out, the story about visiting Mom wasn't a brush-off and we picked up again on Monday. A year later we were married and I think that was the last time I rode Greylock.

Fast forward to today. Jeanne is at her Mom's again, taking care of her, and I happened to be in town Friday for a conference at RPI. I checked the Mohawk Hudson Cycling Club's website (my club, back in the '70s), and saw that they had moved their annual Greylock ride up a week. I've wanted to ride Greylock again for a few years now, but it was closed as the access roads were completely rebuilt. The forecast was for cool, but sunny weather, so hooking up with them for a ride was a no-brainer. I needed to ride into work on Friday, with Jeanne picking me up at the end of the day to travel, so I decided to take the Gunnar cyclocross bike, as it has a rack, but fairly light wheels. I also thought the triple might come in handy, but as it turned out, it wasn't needed.


54 degrees at the start didn't feel cold under the bright September sun. There was a good turnout of riders of a variety of abilities, but all appeared to be in decent shape. I chatted with the owners of a Tommasini and a Colnago Master, both classics in excellent shape, but with upgraded parts. Most riders were on very nice, modern bikes. I left with the first group and the pace quickly picked up to the point that I wondered if I would be able to keep it up over the entire 70-mile ride. I dropped off the lead pack on the long climb before Stephentown, but caught up on the rolling terrain. They finally dropped me for good on Brodie Mountain Road when I lost contact on the climb and then missed a turn. When I rejoined the route, the main bunch was just going by. I passed most of them, grabbing a few photos, and eventually caught up with a few riders from the lead group.


The ride up the south side of Greylock had a few good pulls in the beginning, but was much less steep than I remembered. I actually started picking up the pace after awhile. Things really started to feel familiar when I hit the tight double-switchbacks near the top and I put the hammer down to the summit, realizing how much easier it was turning out to be than expected.

After resting awhile at the top, and sharing my trail mix with some of the other riders, I started back down. The views were fantastic in the clear, late-September air and the foliage was just starting to turn. Riders had been coming and going, so I was pretty sure I'd either catch up with some or be caught by others. The fastest riders were long gone, including one amazing woman who had bucked the stiff headwind for the fast bunch for most of the ride out.

As it turned out, I rode solo all the way back to the start. Other than a number of riders still climbing up, I didn't see anyone until I had my bike loaded and was getting ready to leave. I had a nice tailwind most of the hilly return ride, so I kept a brisk pace and took advantage of it. When I finished, I felt like I had gotten in a great workout--much more than one would expect in 70 miles. Total climbing was over 7,000'.

The ride was a real blast. The other riders were pleasant and there was usually someone to draft or to pull. 30+ years ago, I spent the ride thinking about a special girl I had just meant. Today, I had over three decades of fond memories to reminisce about as I revisited this great tour. All-in-all, it was big, big fun.

More photos on Picasa.

D2R2: A Dirt Road Delight

When I first heard of the Deerfield Dirt Road Randonee, a little over a year ago, I thought it sounded like a truly dumb idea. Over 100 miles, mostly on dirt roads, with 16,000' of vertical gain; that's over three miles, straight up. It sure didn't sound like fun, even to someone like me, who rides 1,000 miles of dirt a year, just commuting.

Oh, what a difference a year makes. Somehow, the idea worked its way into my head. Perhaps it was all the times I stumbled across its mention, always intensely favorable by those who have ridden it, or perhaps it was just that I was in pretty good riding shape this year. For whatever reason, when the ride date approached, I decided to go for it. Now that it's done, count me among the D2R2's fans.

I wasn't really sure I was ready for this ride. I had a couple of double-centuries under my belt this year, as well as a number of other long rides, and a week before the D2R2 I did an 85-mile ride that included a number of steep dirt roads and Lincoln and App Gaps, for a total of about 7,500' of climbing. Then I looked at the ride's website, where it is advised that one include century rides with at least 10,000' of climbing as a training regimen. Gulp.

The D2R2 is considered by many to be one of the toughest centuries anywhere, though many say that Vermont's own six-gap ride may be tougher. As far as I know, it's the only ride of its kind. The D2R2's organizer is cycling legend Sandy Wittlesey, who says, “We designed it by placing pins in the map where the covered bridges and coolest sights were, then connected the dots with dirt roads. Our intent was to make the most beautiful ride we could …all we really want is for people to finish D2R2 saying, ‘Wow, that was really challenging, but totally worth it because it’s such a great bike ride.’”

All kinds of people show up for this ride, on all kinds of bikes. The course is probably best suited for cyclocross and randonneur bikes, but many ride mountain bikes. I saw everything from an old Raleigh Gran Sport to a recumbent, which was doing surprisingly well on the climbs. I was riding smooth-tread 30C tires, which worked very well in the dry conditions. Of course, there were a number of racer-types who sailed past, riding impossibly narrow tires and pushing impossibly big gears, but one gets used to that sort of thing happening. I went with the recommended 1:1 low end, and I'm very glad I did.

There is a shorter, 100K version of the ride that is offered and recommended for those who have not done the full 170K version, but I decided to go for the full deal. The weather was for a typical, hot August day, with lots of sun, so I made the earliest start of 6 am. There were a total of 480 riders registered for the three events, including a 32-mile ride routed straight up the Green River, and well over 100 people riding the 170K. The group started out at a pace that was a bit faster than I would have been able to maintain, but, luckily, I had a slight malfunction that took less than a minute to fix, but which permanently separated me from the fastest starters. I caught up with some other riders on the next descent and rode with them for a while, but there really isn't much benefit to be gained by riding in a pack on this ride, other than for moral support, as there are very few miles where drafting would be helpful. The D2R2 isn't a race, and most people are just looking to finish, and walk as few climbs as possible.

Since most of the ride is on dirt roads, the tree canopy gave a welcome escape from the August heat. I focused on maintaining a pace that I thought would take me through the entire ride and didn't worry about who I was passing or who was passing me. I do wish I had noticed that the guy who went by me on a Richard Sachs cyclocross bike in full team kit was the main man, Mr. Sachs, himself, or that the Independent Fabrications crew had brought almost everyone from the factory along. As it was, I met up with several Vermonters, and heard rumors of others, though I think I was the only one wearing a GMBC jersey.

After 50 miles or so of climbing and descending, including two of the toughest climbs of the course, I was really getting into the spirit of the ride. I was cleaning everything the course was throwing at me, my old mountain biking skills were kicking in and I was descending faster and faster on the cyclocross bike I was riding. On one long, nasty downhill just before the second break, I flew past a number of other riders; however, it was at the cost of a broken spoke, and twisting the handlebars in a 4-bolt stem. I even drove the brake levers down on the bars, which has never happened to me before. Luckily, I had the tools and parts with me necessary to fix things at the break.

The closest call I had, though, was when I was flying down a one-lane road by myself, after the final break. I came around a curve doing well over 35 mph, when I came upon a tractor coming up the hill, pulling some kind of tedder (a piece of equipment with long spikes, used to harvest hay). The equipment overhung the small ditch on both sides of the road, and there were trees on the left and a vertical embankment on the right. Luckily, the farmer stopped as soon as he saw me, leaving me just enough room to fishtail to a stop on the foot of road alongside the tractor's rear wheel, staring at the big spikes only a couple of feet ahead. The farmer cut the tractor's engine and deadpanned “That was close.” I had to hold onto those spikes as I climbed through the ditch to get around the rig, continuing on a bit more cautiously.

My total time for the ride put me in position 53 out of the 118 finishers, not too shabby. My actual ride time was 8:48, making it certainly my all-time slowest century. Still, I cleaned the entire course, rode some amazingly beautiful roads, chatted with a lot of fascinating people, saw some really cool bikes (including one made of wood!), and had a great time. The support was fantastic, there were showers, dinner and a band waiting at the end--all-in-all, just a great experience. I'll definitely be riding this one again.

Patrick's great photos of the event on Flicker.

Doin' the Flèche

I'm signed up to ride the New England Flèche in three weeks. A flèche, in cycling, is basically a 24-hour ride done by a team of three to five cyclists. It is not a relay, in that all riders ride all the time and there is no outside support, such as the follow vehicles that will support the 100/200, five weeks later. True to its French origins, the flèche is replete with a host of obscure rules, designed to insure that riders do not "cheat." Having organized the 100/200 for so many years, I find it difficult to get my mind around that one. Who would cheat on a 360 km, 24-hour bicycle ride? Who would care if someone did? There are no prizes, and the event is setup in such a way that it's virtually impossible to have competition. Plus, no rational person I have talked to understands the event at all, so what would anyone gain by cheating? I don't get it.

I also don't get the idea of control cards, which are supposed to be signed by anonymous people at strategic "controls," or points along the ride to establish that you were at a certain place at a certain time. There is a traditional element to controls. There is a video on YouTube that shows a few seconds of a tandem taxi race that took place in Paris during WWII in which the "fare" leaps out of a trailer being pulled by the tandem and sprints to a table where he gets his control card signed. This action was a critical part of the event and one assumes that the ride involved a number of different destinations in Paris. It was also a race, so the controls were an important part of the event. This does not transfer well to non-competitive ultra-marathon events, however. Not only does no one really care, but a flèche's controls are selected by the team. The person initialing the cards will be some sleepy clerk at a 24-hour convenience store who doesn't understand what she is scribbling her initials for. Are we to believe that some event official is going to try to track that person down later to verify that she really did initial the control? How would he find her? Drive a hundred miles to some town in Vermont, find the donut shop and ask around to see if anyone knows whose initial those are? What happens if he can't verify the initials? Does he have enough evidence to disqualify the team? I can see Hercule Perot, having failed as an independent detective and resigned in disgrace to serve as a French government official, whose sole task is to travel the countryside, verifying completed control cards submitted by ultra-marathon cyclists for non-competitive events. That's a vision bound to haunt me at 3 am, climbing some hill in Massachusetts.

If the concept of a control card on a ride like this makes no sense, it must be there for some other purpose. According to RUSA, the sanctioning organization, the flèche is one of a series of increasing distance rides that "qualifies" you for longer rides, culminating in the grand daddy of all randonneur events, Paris-Brest-Paris, the ultimate painfest. Perhaps there's something to be gained by filtering out the casual riders from the longer events, but I'm not convinced by even that, as so many riders who have qualified do not finish. Since these rides are run over non-closed public roads, and do not offer support, who is to stop you from showing up and just riding it anyway? You could be the masked rider who swoops in without registration, without number, who stealthily rides the event, eschewing the corny certificate of completion, requiring no validation of his effort.

Herein we get to the crux of the matter, and it is the age old saw--people want to belong to a group. Whether you call it a "tribe," a club, a gang, or a congregation, people have this evolutionary attraction to organize together. It could be a Yankees cap, a NASCAR t-shirt, or a leather Harley jacket, but in this case, it's flèches and brevets. All the arcane rules and the controls make up the sacrifice component, recognized by prehistoric humans as being integral to getting buy-in by the group members and to hold their attention. There's no more effective way to get people to defend a group than to have them pay dearly to belong. What better way to get investment than to have a person give up his most prized possession, the finest of his flock, which, not incidentally, can serve as the basis for a feast? The odd thing about ultra-marathon cycling is that the people attracted to it are largely odd ducks who pride themselves on being different. Actions speak louder than words, folks!

I'll get my control card initialed by the sleepy clerk after trying to explain in 10 seconds or less why we're out in the middle of the night riding our bikes, perhaps in the rain, but it will only be for the good of the team. I'm in this for the experience and the true tradition of Velocio, in whose memory the flèche was originally designed. Velocio, the father of bicycle touring and inventor of the derailleur, organized a series of Easter rides in the 1930s in which readers of his magazine, le Cyclist, would converge on Provence for a happy picnic. The word flèche means arrow in French and the modern flèches are best ridden as fairly straight routes, converging on a common destination--our route is true to this concept. I'm confident Velocio had no thought or use for controls, only camaraderie. Salute, Velocio!

Looking forward to 2009

I started keeping track of my mileage on mycyclinglog.com since late August, 2007. In 2008, I exceeded my mileage every month over 2007. Total mileage for the year was 6,562. Of this, 4,711 were "utility miles," meaning they displaced miles I would otherwise have driven. This translates into 2.43 tons of CO2 saved by not driving my Ford pickup truck. I would have also saved money, if I didn't spend it on bike parts I didn't need, instead. Results for all the bicycle commuters in our group are summarized at http://rideitlikeyoustoleit.us.

The big news, looking forward, is that the 100/200 is a definite GO for June 21, 2009. I typed up an information sheet and posted it to http://stevebarner.com. It's sure to be a great ride.

Snow Biking

It's been 11 months, so it's high time to update the blog. I've managed to exceed my mileage every month this year over last. I've logged over 300 miles in December, alone. Yesterday should be counted as a mistake, though.

It started when I neglected to check the weather online before leaving home. I had an early meeting and I'd had a late meeting the day before, so I was feeling tight on time. The last weather report I had heard indicated the snow would start in the evening, so I rode the Bianchi road bike that is fitted with 700x32 Nokian A10 studded tires. These tires are ok on the road and have just enough studs to provide a grip on ice patches, but they are not so good in deep snow.

It was cold in the morning. The thermometer said 21 degrees, but it's been reading quite high. I need to move the sending unit location. I made it through the few inches of snow on the dirt road, though not without some excitement on a few rutted sections. There was a little light snow on the side of the road, but it wasn't bad when I had to go into it when cars were over taking me. The thermometer in Williston read 11 degrees, which seemed a lot more accurate.

It started snowing in earnest in the afternoon. I left shortly after 4:00, and traffic was heavy with people heading home for the weekend, trying to beat the storm. I stuck to the rec path all the way to Kimball Ave. There wasn't a lot of traffic heading out, but it wasn't easy riding, especially when I had to pull out of the travel lane. Traffic was really backed up and I couldn't ride to the right of the long line of cars, as the snow was just too deep and loose. I tried, but I was going all over the place, which just wasn't safe with all the cars around. I jogged with the bike to Williston Rd., tried riding it again, gave up, and walked the mile all the way to Tafts Corners. The thermometer read 8 degrees.

I tried riding again, but it was still pretty tough. I let out much of the air in the tires, and that helped a little, but I was very happy that a snow plow came along and cleared the road all the way across the shoulder. Things went better after that, all the way through Williston to the top of French Hill. There, things started to get interesting again. I waited for a line of cars to go by and then followed a panel truck down the hill. Soon, I realized that there was a limit to how much I could get on the brakes, as, even with the crummy brake pads on the bike, I was starting to slide the rear tire. The problem was, even though I wasn't going very fast, I was catching up to the panel truck! That, combined with the fact that it was dark, my glasses were icing and I couldn't really see where I was going, made that descent quite interesting. I stopped at the bottom and called Jeanne, telling her that I wasn't having fun anymore and she headed out to get me. I only made it to the edge of Richmond, a little over two miles farther, before meeting up with her.

I've ridden in the snow before, but hadn't had this much trouble. Of course, everything depends on the conditions, but it doesn't take a genius to figure out that biking during snow storms should be avoided, if possible. Heck, driving in snow storms should be avoided. I'm pretty sure I would have been much better off with the Fat Chance, which is sporting wider, knobby Nokians with more studs. The more rugged tires, combined with the upright position of the mountain bike, would have improved traction and low speed maneuverability. If I had seen the weather I would probably still have ridden, but with the other bike. If it had happened again today, I would have driven my truck!

Bottom line: The Nokian A10s are great for clear, sub-zero riding--well, they're probably one of the best alternatives, anyway. It's hard to say that any snow tire is "great." But if you are going to have only one set of snows on your bike, and if you plan to ride in all types of weather, get a more aggressive tire, at least if you live in snow country, like northern Vermont.

Half-way through January with way-more miles than December

After riding back and forth to work (19 miles each way) for four days in a row, I was really beat. I started with my Fat Chance mountain bike (no longer considered a mountain bike according to the younger set, because it lacks any type of suspension). After slogging through mud with the consistency of mashed potatoes, due to the January thaw, I was happy to see the temperature drop below freezing. The Fat Chance has studded Nokian tires in the winter and these things claw out of pretty much anything winter throws in the way, but riding such a long commute sure takes a toll out of my energy reserves. It's amazing how quickly a cyclist can lose that warm-weather muscle tone in the off-season.

I wanted to speed up the commute, so I sprung for a pair of Nokian A10 35 x 700C studded tires. These tires have only 70 or so studs, while the tires I have on the Fat Chance have more than 100. Really aggressive studded tires often have over 300 studs. Still, the A10s have their studs located close to the outside edges and they are staggered. This puts them where you really need them, helping you to climb out of frozen ruts. I came up the hill on my dirt road on knobby tires without studs on my fourth day of riding and fell twice when I got caught in ruts--not something that typically happens to me. I was going quite slow climbing the hill and nothing got hurt or damaged. Riding up the same hill, with the same ruts, on the same bike, but now with the Nokians, I didn't even come close to going over.

The Nokians are still pretty heavy, but they are a lot easier to ride than the more aggressive ones I have on the Fat Chance. I highly recommend them to anyone who is doing winter riding and wants the advantages of studs with the lowest cost in performance. Winter conditions can put treacherous ice in your path without warning. As far as I'm concerned, studded tires are an absolute necessity for winter riding an cold. snowy climates
like Vermont.

I got my Nokians from Peter White Cycles. Peter ships very fast, has many models in stock and offers good prices. Unless you think there is a very good possibility that you will not be putting many miles on them, don't waste your money on tires with steel studs. Pay the money and get carbide studs. You won't regret it. If you live near Burlington, the Old Spokes Home has studded tires in stock. These guys ride their bikes year-round and can give you good advice.

Appalachian Gap: It's 12 for 12!

The last climb. I shot this on the way back down--no dabs!

In spite of a nagging cold, I got out Saturday afternoon for the December climb up App Gap, meeting my goal of climbing the Gap at least once a month for a year. Last year, I hit every month except December. This year, I did the climb as many as three times in a month, but not a month went by when I didn't make the climb at least once.

Conditions were ok, with temperatures in the mid-30s. The climb could have been done on a road bike without studded tires, but one would have to have ridden back down the last hundred yards or so from the summit in the climbing lane, carefully picking a clear line. It would have been a challenge if you had to compete with cars coming up. It was very nice having studded tires, as I could pull over to let cars pass without worrying about the snow and ice I needed to ride over.

The view from the top

One of the neatest things was the number of people who gave me the thumbs-up on the climb. I suspect most people coming over the mountain were coming back from a great day skiing at Sugarbush or Mad River Glen, and skiers understand this kind of challenge better than the average person, but one guy actually rolled down his window and leaned out to shout encouragement as we passed on one of the upper switchbacks.

I rode my 1983 Fat Chance mountain bike, outfitted with Nokian studded tires. These are the style designed primarily for plowed dirt and paved roads, with a little over 100 studs in two rows. I have found this to be a good compromise between traction and rolling resistance and, while there are times when I've wished I had more studs, I've never lost traction with these. I'm not at all keen on doing long rides with mountain bars in an off-road riding position, so I'd like to experiment with studded road tires on a road bike for winter riding. There are some interesting designs available.

Approaching App Gap

My advice for anyone getting stated with studded tires is to be sure you get good tires with carbide studs. The cheaper tires with steel studs just are not worth it, especially with as many strikes against you as you already have with winter cycling. You can always turn around and sell your tires if you decide winter riding is not for you. If you are in northern Vermont, you can get these tires at a good price at the Old Spokes Home in Burlington. Otherwise, you can get them by mail from Peter White, who probably sells more of these tires than anyone else in the country.

Will I try to repeat this goal of a Gap a month? At this point, I'm not sure. I know a guy who lives a little closer to the Gap who does it at least once a week during riding season to prepare for the Green Mountain Stage Race, and Chris Bohjalian rides Lincoln Gap two or three times a week when it isn't covered with snow. I'm far from earning any unique bragging rights for continuing to ride the Gap every month. I was thinking when I started the December ride that I would rather be getting in more miles on a road bike, since this would have been possible if I had stuck to the lowlands, though it was fun to be at the top of the Gap, and the ride back, downhill and with a tailwind, made the slogging climb worthwhile. Perhaps I'll broaden my scope a little, or tackle a real challenge, like doing a century ride every month. That would be a tough thing to accomplish in northern Vermont! I will say, though, that it's fun to have a goal, no matter how arbitrary, and it's rewarding to meet it.