Doing it all the hard way...

Friday, September 28, 2018

Our Fondo has a bakery stop


Reloaded and ready for more
In 2014 I rode the Winthrop Fondo.  That year it was on the old course and the event was held in June.  It was hot, but the elevation kept the temperatures cool enough that only on the final climb up Lester road was it uncomfortable. In 2015 a handful of us did it and lived to tell the tail.  In 2016 many of us did it as a group and had a great, though predictably shattering, experience.
 El Jefe' in 2016
For 2017 we opted to assemble the same weekend as the Fondo, but instead did a five hour gravel ride as a group instead of seven to nine hours of hurt punctuated by cramps and cursing.
This is much better than killing ourselves.....
For 2018 we again chose the Fondito (little Fondo) option.  We still had a full day that left us spent, but the ride did not shorten our expected lifespan. 

McWoodie, Marcel and Einmotron came over on Friday morning and met at Cramps place.  They were all eating lunch when I arrived and before long we were in costume and racing along the trails on the valley floor. 

We had a rollicking good time that included single track with short steep climbs and winding ski trails that allowed for stinging accelerations and “look out ahead” cornering.   We hit some late summer duff and the resulting cloud totally obscured the heavily rutted trail.  Marcel went down and was lost in the cloud.  
Heading back to Mazama we were all down in the drops and drilling it as fast as the winding trail would allow.  I was fortunate to be able to anticipate the familiar twists and turns and felt bad for those who did not.  After our ride Cramps had to head back to the waiting perils of city life.

The next day The Punisher and Coz arrived and after some coffee and vittles were ready to partake in a heaping helping of gravel. 

Under grey skies we rolled out with food in our pockets and extra layers just in case the skies opened up.   We climbed Lester and then up and over to join Beaver Creek.  This was just the start of our riding and we topped off our bottles with some water we had cached for just this occasion.
Then the serious climbing started as we made our way toward Starvation Mountain.  Up road 4225, then up 4230.  The endless series of false summits would have broken our spirits if we didn’t have the beauty around us to remind us why we were here.   Then we reached the secret passage that took us to 4235.  Here we regrouped and put on more layers.  Instead of the day getting warmer as it had on Friday, it had gotten colder.  Soon we were climbing again as we now headed east. 

The views opened up to our right.  Bear Mountain and Loup Loup stood tall and green.  Beyond them, the Sawtooth range.  This was what made the ride worthwhile.  I knew there wasn’t much climbing left, and my eyes kept searching for the road to flatten out. 

After peaking out we zipped up and braced for the cold descent.  The descent was fast and loose. We hunted for better lines as the washboard bucked us around like we were riding jackhammers.  My hands were numb by the time we reached the pavement which didn’t last long.  

On the punchy lower slopes of Balky Hill my left adductor cramped.  “Oh good,” I said out loud to no one.  I stopped and Marcel passed me.  I had been carrying a small bottle of the product “Pickle Juice” which had been recommended by Fatty who has all kinds of cramping problems as a miracle drug. 

I swigged the two ounce jar and yes, it tasted like pickle juice.  I restarted and my left adductor seemed a bit better but less than a minute after swigging the juice my right adductor joined the party.  I soft pedaled for five more minutes then realized my legs felt okay now.  I ramped it up.  No cramps.  I really ramped it up.  No cramps.  I am a believer.
We arrived at our planned stop of the Cinnamon Twisp Bakery.  We ordered sandwiches and salty chips.  We were in good spirits with only one big climb remaining.  Someone asked if we were in town for the Fondo. We replied that we were doing our own Fondo.

After eating our fill we slowly remounted.  I had to take the short way back to let out Tux who had been alone in the cabin for too long.  The rest of the group went up the Twisp River Road and when they turned onto Little Bridge Road they were met by a member of the fire crew who told them they could not pass.  After some conversation and bonding sprinkled with an outpouring of charm the guardian discreetly waved on the men in black and orange.  They then climbed the winding gravel road to Thompson Ridge and then partook in the reward of descending Bluebird and Radar Creek and tempting fate along Patterson Lake only to cap off the day with a ripper down the Winthrop Trail.

After showers there were heaping plates of salad, pesto bread and spaghetti to be devoured. 

We capped off the weekend with a Sunday ride up and around Sun Mountain.  A final lap of the descent down Radar Creek and the Winthrop Trail was the icing on the cake.  After showers the group packed up and left as the rains started.  You can hope for this kind of timing, but you should never expect it.

Sometimes you get lucky!
Hey everyone, meet Adam.  Our newest grandchild.  He is smiling at Hottie in the photo

Sunday, September 9, 2018

Racing again


My performance wasn't one of my best today
It had been too long since I had pinned a number on and jumped into the pain cave without a rope.  After prodding my fellow thug into joining me, I got excited and signed up.  

I arrived early.  That is how I roll these days.  Rich had the tent up and I appreciate that.  Soon I was on a warm up lap.  In order to make things harder I was riding the Curto in single speed configuration.  

The course was fast and flat and I opted to go for a harder gear so I pulled the mini tool from my pocket, made the adjustment and rolled on.  Over some bumps and my chain came off.  The singleator spring had come out of its hole and wouldn't put any tension on the floppy chain.  

I had about a half an hour and ran to the car and grabbled a wrench and pliers and bent the spring back (mostly).  It would almost work.

I put in a quarter lap just to make sure things were not falling off.  I rolled to the starting grid knowing my bike was less than stellar.

Soon I was racing and it felt good. It is amazing how bumby grass can be when you're racing.  I started in the back and held my position.  As the laps ticked off, I had to finesse the chain more than I wanted and my rear tire was my second choice and it lost some air as the race went on.  Still I was having fun.  

My legs, lungs, heart and head all got what they deserved.   

After the race I wasn't as blown as I should have been.  I don't know how much was the bike and how much was my fear of pushing it, but I know I can beat some of the guys that beat me today.   

I'll be back.