A year ago our
experience riding the Ephrata Fondo was essentially a Spatchcocking from Mother
Nature. They say Mother Nature is a
Mother and they are right. This time
around we had near perfect conditions. If
you’re having a barbeque sunny and seventy is perfect. If you are racing bikes then fifties and
cloudy is perfect. To ask for anything more might appear ungrateful and result
in a punishment similar to the wrath we experienced in 2015.
As it was, the
day dawned with high clouds, a hint of a breeze and a start temperature trying
to reach fifty degrees. Clothing-wise,
Rich was playing it safe but El Chefe and I opted to go with Belgian Knee
Warmers and hope for the best. The
Peloton was almost giddy at the good weather and a little over two hundred
optimistic riders headed into the hills northwest of Ephrata.
My initial optimism
that the good weather would result in faster times was shattered as we hit the
gravel. Last year the rain had combined
with the dust to firm up the gravel and this year the dry dust was a lubricant
and on the first climb rear wheels were spinning out and fishtailing.
El Chefe and I were
riding together and had inadvertently started toward the back during the neutral roll
out. Now we found ourselves working past
riders struggling on the gravel. Because we were still bunched there was a
shortage of good lines and those lines had rows of sketchy riders. Thus we had to burn some matches passing on
loose gravel and working harder than we should have so early on.
I had a pretty
firm ride plan in my head which I had shared with El Chefe. The plan was to spend the day in Zone 2-3 and on the
climbs maybe just touch Zone 4 but not dwell there. The looseness of the gravel, the lack of good
lines and having to pass when the opportunities presented themselves,
challenged my plan. All in all I did
pretty well.
This first climb
gained over a thousand feet so things sorted themselves out soon enough. Like an ungrateful child we gave back all of
the elevation we had just gained on a long paved downhill only to start
climbing again. I was on 28mm wide Sectours and as Rich said it was a good day not to be pushing too much rubba.
This second
climb started off paved and even though the grade and total elevation gain was
almost identical to the first climb it felt almost effortless. Almost at the top of the climb the road
turned to gravel and we began to accelerate and pass riders again. We caught Spinner John and exchanged some
encouragement.
A ninety degree
right turn and a slight downhill presented some of the most challenging gravel
of the entire ride. There were no good
lines and the gravel was soft and everyone tested their level of comfort with
fishtailing. I hoped Spinner John would back off here and a post-ride
conversation confirmed he had indeed used the good judgment so rare among
cyclists.
Soon the gravel
firmed up and after some rollers that were tons of fun the road pitched down
toward the Columbia. I let the Boone fly
knowing that El Chefe, who descends gravel like a Falcon, would catch me. I passed bunches of riders who were
exercising caution or were spent from the previous two climbs.
Sure enough with
a “whoop” El Chefe was beside me and then in front of we. We proceeded to pick off a few more groups of
riders as we churned along. Soon we
passed the portal of the train tunnel and the river opened up in front of us.
Then we partook
of the sandy Cyclocross diversion that I really don’t understand. It felt
almost like some weird biathlon activity where you take a break from riding to
juggle or perform a set of Thighmaster exercises. I’m on an 80 mile gravel ride
in March so I really don’t have a high ground position to question anything. Roll with it Davo…..
I felt a
sprinkle of rain on my right leg and hoped it was an anomaly. We hit the food stop and with German
precision we completed our tasks and were soon rolling again. We were chatting and riding side by side when
three riders caught us and encouraged us to join them.
Another time, another place. El Chefe pushing about 100mm of Rubba
“We’re all
friends after the food stop,” was an oft repeated refrain and we joined in and a
paceline was born. Last year the
headwind and rain in our faces had made this false flat climb up Palisade
Canyon thirty kilometers of hell. This
year we enjoyed the beauty of the valley and we drilled it. STRAVA would later tell us our time was fifteen minutes faster than we did it in
2015.
The three devils
climb was looser than last year but also seemed tamer than my memory
expected. With the major climbs behind
us I reveled in how strong I felt. I
couldn’t help but credit my long rides with some increased fitness.
We gained
elevation with each set of rollers and soon the road pointed down sharply toward the
hamlet of Ephrata. Despite the hours of
riding in our legs we now smelled the barn and opened up on the descent. El Chefe and I passed each other then we took
turns pulling all the way to the finish.
After crossing
the line we made our way to the car and it started to rain. We thought of Rich who was still out on the course. Luckily the rain stopped as quickly
as it started and all was good. We both
felt strong and were elated that the good weather had held.
Before long El
Chefe, Rich and I were all slouched in a booth in a local Mexican Restaurant
trying to replenish ourselves. Rich
filled us in on his adventure and we told him about our day. We were all pleased with our rides and the
drive home was all smiles. After the
smack down of last year we were all glad to have less drama this time around.
My lessons
learned this time around were twofold. First, the reapplication of chamois
cream half way though was a slick idea (use a pun, go to jail) and Secondly it
confirmed my perception that I definitely prefer dry over biblical rain.
