Crusty Cassette

Six Hours is not enough!

At Polar Bear we determined all three of us, Chris, Doug, and me, had turned in 6 hour centuries. Funny, though, Chris did his in something like 5:51, Doug in 5:56 and me--5:59:52 and I had to work to get that. Not bad for any route including the Spiral Highway. Since we rode together the rest of the day, Doug made up his time on me on the grade.

We made the loop through Moscow, took Driscoll Road off the Latah Trail and headed south to Kendrick and back on 12 Stopping at both Kendrick in the midst of Locus Blossom Festival and again at the Casino.

Chris, of course, doesn't count even though he was doing his first century of the year. He's always way out in front but Doug? Well, he pushed me up a hill two weeks in a row. I warned him I wasn't going to race up the Spiral Highway and I didn't. When my pulse hit 161 at the top of separator grade, I dialed it back and let Doug and Chris pull off.

Doug stopped at the last big bend to get a picture of me making that turn. That was all the pictures we got though. I'd forgotten my camera and Doug's developed a resistance to working so you'll just have to take my word for what happened. Trust me.

Cute is a relative term!

The day was warm enough to start off in short sleeves and cyclists took advantage of it everywhere on the Chipman trail. The warm temperatures and clear skies did not prevent the wind from blowing. But, sssh, it mostly blew in our favor. We had a nice tailwind all the way into Pullman where we crossed Bishop Blvd and stopped at the convenience for a break before riding the Chipman trail into Moscow for lunch at Quiznos. We had light tailwinds almost everywhere else today.

Chris won't ride in a pace line. Still he let me suck his wheel for almost a mile across the Chipman Trail into a head wind. We passed through the tunnel and turned directly into the wind when I heard a chain drop from bigger cog to smaller. I knew it would do me no good to try to hang on. Chris is cruel. He drops back to pace as soon as he has dropped you.

So I dropped back and rode in to Moscow with Doug. Crossing the campus I saw a cyclist standing off the bike in the shade of a tree and wanted to know if it was Chris. Turned out to be a co-ed about Chris's h eighth. Doug gave me a bad time. "She's much cuter than Chris," he said. Then thinking better of it, he added, "Not that Chris is cute." Being philosophical cyclists, we decided cute was relative. Doug pointed out that Chris, relative to a warthog, is cute. QED

Chris complained I hadn't brought my camera. He wanted to see video of himself riding. Doug suggested he looked bowlegged and Chris said it's hard to keep your knees in when you have big thighs unlike Doug's toothpick legs.

Chris is Cruel but cuter than a warthog.

Cruel is Kind

Somewhere out on the Latah trail we came to a dead stop. Would Chris stop for a riding companion dropped mercilessly? No. Chris apparently has a working relationship with a menagerie of animals. Today only one donkey and a goat were on display. Chris began waving and talking to the donkey like on old friend. The donkey trotted up to the fence and began making not quite braying noises. Trust me!This is when we discovered Doug's camera was on strike.

I guess when it comes to donkeys it takes one to know one.Draw your own conclusions.

Rain? No. Rayna!

Between Troy and the top of the Troy Grade the road ceases its long decline and throws in one more nasty climb. Chris had been puttering around behind us from Lamb Road. Turns out the little Sammies he'd eaten at Quiznos hadn't agreed with him. Worked out great for me, though. I actually got to see Chris in my mirror as I held him off on a climb. I knew something was wrong, though, when he didn't just disappear down the Troy grade. Well, I'll always have that memory of dropping Chris up a hill. Wowee.

In Kendrick the festivities seemed quiet and we headed for the grocery. Who should hail us but Dean Weyen who had a woman by the hand. "Who's this?" I asked.

"My fiance, Rayna!" So, you may have heard it here first. Nice woman. Turns out to be a teacher. I guess that's an acceptable profession though it may not speak well of her judgment but then she's holding Dean's hand!

Topping off Bike Month with a century and a Sundae!

It was Doug's idea to top of Bike Month with a century. Sort of like the cherry on top of the sundae, he said.

But it wasn't sundaes he was pushing at every opportunity today. With Doug, see, you have to go along for the ride. If he offers you pepper wine or pepper bear, you've got to drink some at least once. If he offers you a salted potato wedge, you eat one. And Chris learned that if he offers you a fig, you eat it even if it just tastes like a fig newton without the yummy cake surrounding it instead of like the cinnamon bun Doug compared its flavor to. Johnny Figseed pushed his unwanted fruit on Chris all day long. He left me alone 'cause I'd already eaten figs on the Death Valley Ride.

Finally, at Polar Bear, Chris, had to accept a fig before he could eat his yogurt. It wasn't quite a cherry, but it did top off our Bike Month.

"Don't forget to log your mileage for May. If you haven't logged at all yet, that's fine. Just total up your mileage for may and drop into the form. Find the link on the club webpage.

For the Ride of it! Corrie

My legs are tired this morning. They usually are when I've ridden a century the day before, but I'm not accustomed to riding up Wawawai Canyon at 8 to 10 mph and then holding 17 to 20 across the 12 miles to Pullman. Fortunately Doug and I dialed the pace back a bit on the return on 95 from Pullman.

The forecast hadn't bee encouraging. Good chance of rain on Saturday both in the valley and on the Paouse. Rain had fallen on me a couple of times during my weeks' rides. It had been light and I'd always been close to home. Going down to Wawawai and up to Pullman was going to be pushing my luck. But the temps, though, reported to be cold by the weather types, seemed about perfect to me. I always look forward to the temps warming to the mid sixties. That didn't sound cold to me and the winds were 'sposed to gust to 8. I cold for the Wawawai Canyon ride.

Nothing from Dave, Chris, Jim, Doug. Everyone was silent on the subject of Saturday's ride. Fair weather riders the lot of you, I say. Doug, at least, checked the weather out his window on Saturday morning and gave it a go. The sky was blue and cloudless and stayed more or less so until noon when clouds were building up around us and looking particularly dark South over the valley.

Down River Road isn't our favorite. Doug complained about the route when he road this route in reverse a few weeks ago.

We caught WSU Crew having a race.

I hadn't expected to see anyone least of all Doug. But after our stop to refuel at the Crew Boat House, we found Chris, his new grey vandyke bristling in the morning sunshine. "You're late," he complained. It was 9:30 and I had an 18 mph average. We'd had a light tail wind from Lewiston.

"Why are we waiting for him," I asked Doug as Chris took off his arm warmers. I rolled off knowing Chris wouldn't just catch us but bounce out ahead as he always does.

Doug doesn't know Chris that well and he had never climbed Wawawai Canyon. In addition, he's a bad judge of pace. Seemed like he thought he was going to catch Chris. I knew that Chris wasn't tired when he weaved out to the center of the road. Old School, he won't wear a mirror. He was checking to make sure his "companions" didn't get too close. We fell into a steady pace that kept us separated by a couple of hundred feet. I wasn't liking having to work quite this hard but I didn't want to be dropped. I managed to catch Doug just before the top.

I had the heart monitor on and think I was running in the mid 160s most of the time. That scarcely had a chance to drop on the way into Pullman. Still my average heart rate for the day was 135 so I guess I was just having a great workout. Thanks guys

My pictures and four small videos.
Doug's Photos

"Where's your blog? We're waiting." The voice on the phone was Sean's. You'd think he'd be too busy selling bikes to gas-gored grunts on a Monday morning after such a fine weekend. But no. He's got time to complain about the blog from the ride he was too tired to do. Gotta live vicariously don't cha Sean.

The truth is I was too burned out to give a damn about photos and blogs last night. Did take the time to preview the pics and video through my LCD tv. Nice way to watch your pictures. I like this camera more and more. But next time I'll turn off the time stamp.Kinda tacky.

It's 2:30 in the afternoon and I've ridden about 20 miles. We started at 9 from Heller Bar. I'm somewhere west and perhaps south of Heller Bar. We've crossed the Grande Ronde, climbed a little hill and dropped down into the Joseph Creek Drainage and have been climbing pretty much ever since.

I would have been more than happy to have turned around when the fellow on the 4-wheeler with the boy on back reported we still had another 7 or 8 miles to go before we reached the turn off for the Cache Creek Ranger Station. Doug blames Google for the mix up. He figured we had maybe a mile to go for a 46 mile round trip ride. Sounded doable when he called for the ride last week.

Now we knew we weren't going to get through. "So what's the plan?" I asked. "We ride until we can't go any further, have lunch and head back." Came Scott's answer.

I knew what that meant. I'd be riding to the top of some hill whether I wanted to or not. I had ridden 100 miles on Saturday on the hottest day of the spring but I was feeling good at Asotin when Scott, Bill Arnold, Scott, Jen, and I loaded our bikes and gear into Scott's pickup and Doug's pickup. 40 minutes of riding shotgun did stiffen me a bit, but I was ready to go and had good energy.

Sean had bailed out and Doug soon showed signs of fatigue from his Saturday ride. Bill took up the rear mostly but never quit on the way up and gave it all up on the way down.

From the start the ride had hints of becoming exciting. My camel back seemed to have developed a nasty leak. It was only half full and definately wet. I was about to put it on when someone stopped me. I had two and half bottles of Gatorade and Bill gave me two cans of Limeade. I figured I'd be alright so long as we didn't take all day. Shoot it was only going to be 23 miles to the top. We could do the return in an hour or less.

The Scott's hydration pack also showed signs of leaking. Apparently it wasn't serious. He kept his on. I was pleased not to be wearing the darn thing but at 2:30 standing in the road, I was wishing I had more water. Finally, Scott gave me an extra bottle of water which got me back to the trucks. Just another Adventure.

The Grande Ronde was high already but not flooded and not terribly full of flotsam. I had never been beyond the mouth and found the wide, gravel, road rather pleasant. For a week or so every spring the brown banks beneath basalt pillars turns green. Doug got that right. We were in high spring with rich green leaves on the cottonwoods and other trees along the creek side matched by an equally bright green on the slopes to our left. Flat pasture land appeared under a green blanket. A bit surreal actually. Just another Adventure.

Bill has a checkered past to hear him tell it. More adventures than a man of his years should really lay claim too if he's been behaving himself. One adventure included being allergic to bee stings which brought us to a full stop when he was stung. Fortunately his allergy is picky and decided it didn't mind that particular species at all. Just another Adventure.

Spent time in the forest service and kept telling us about rock arches, and switchbacks, and asking about places I've never heard of. Yet, not even Bill knew where the turn off to Cache Creek was.

The rocks in the road formed a crude arrow pointing slightly to the back of us and to the left. The four-wheeler had left us a sign. The route was gated and locked but Scott insisted, much to Doug's dismay, that we go up a ways--just to the corner to see what we could and have lunch. Doug, whose legs were telling him this day was over, looked longingly at the grassy space next to the creek and gave in. "Just 15 minutes," he said.

The road had turned hard granite but now the more grassy double track was strewn sharp chunks of basalt and the grade steepened from a steady 4 and 5% to 6 or more. Good as his word, Scott stopped us in a shady spot with a nice view for lunch but when the elevation was reported to be 3400 feet, neither he nor Bill could resist. "We can do 800ft." It was like too eager puppies.

My father used to take me hunting with the guys. We'd start at dawn, march around the hills, sit in frosty stands, and gather for lunch. This was like that. Someone, usually Dad, would start speculating what might be up around that bend. I didn't care and preferred to go home. I knew I was going to the top now, like it or not.

The double-track smoothed out a bit and began switching back until it opened out into a long steep climb. We got a great view off to our left of the valley we had just climbed up. The bank dropped off precariously from the side of the road which made me move to the inside track when I could. Jen decided the same but came afoul of rocks in the grazy center hump and went down bruising the palm of her left hand. That was enough for her. Strange because earlier I had had to tell her it was okay to take a break. She was definitely pushing the pace though I credit some of that to the fact the two of us were riding 29ers which seem as always to handle the bumps better at least on the ascent. Just another Adventure.

Doug did a bend or two fo the switch backs before he decided he'd also had enough. When the legs give out is the adventure really over? No.

Now I knew Scott liked pain. I knew he'd keep going as he said "unitl he couldn't ride anymore" but Bill? I held out hope that he, at least, would have sense enough to say "quit." Bill's a big guy though there's less of him today than yesterday. He was slow but steady and urged me to keep going. "You'll have to say you almost made it to the top," he coaxed. Just another Adventure.

Scott promptly discovered a mystery he just had to solve. "There's a water reservoir up there," he reported. Soott had been spotting distant visuals all day long which I, of course, could never see. He reported snakes in the road and turkeys in the brush I seldom saw and dark spots he thought were moving on mountains across the valley. Good eyes. Even better imagination. All I saw was a low flat something that didn't look like it grew.

"Its the ice cream stand," Bill argued. You see how these two double teamed me? Bill knew just which buttons to push to keep me going. Just another Adventure.

The ice cream stand turned out to be two horse trailers and a big four wheel pickup. I didn't get the grade on this last heroic climb but I saw plenty of 14% and some 15% after we left our wounded. We were finally at the top and could look out both before and behind us.

The route down to Cache Creek Ranger station looked long, steep, and green. This was never going to have been a one day trip. Scott thought he saw a patch of snow a ways down the slop. Bill and I waited for him to fill his water bottles and climb back upu. The ice was for Jen's hand. What a guy.

I let air out of my tires before stating back down. I wanted a softer, more controlled ride. Scott kept his at 80lbs and claimed I'd bend my rims. Bill stopped at each bend to make sure Scott was okay. I figured he'd just come flying off some corner. Bill didn't want to have to ride back up to perform a rescue. Just another Adventure.

Jen was nursing that hand when we got back to she and Scott who happily sitting by the side of the double track talking away and taking in the view. It was cool in the shade and comfortable at this elevation. Only a couple of hundred feet below back on the road exposure to the sun meant enervating heat. Aouple in a low slung little car asked directions. I didn't hear any banjos playing but I thought they were a bit off the main road. Just another Adventure.

I put a bit more air in my tires. 45 lbs. But it was too much. That granite sticking up in the road bed managed to jerk me around and shake me up. I don't see well and couldln't distinguish shadows from rocks and gravel. Bill, however, shot off down the hill waiting ocassionally. Jen tried to tell Doug his seat pouch was open but he didn't hear her. Suddenly Doug stopped. He'd discovered a green patch kit. And there was Bill walking his bike back toward us. And now SCott showed up his pockets full of detritus from Bill and Doug's packs.

"I've lost something really important," Bill confessed sheepisly. "My chain." It's 2:30 in the afternoon, the sun is hot, we look for shade as Doug and Scott and finally Jen head back up the trail looking for signs of the missing chain. I've no energy for going back up hill. Bill kind of makes a show of looking but I know he has no confidence the chain will be found or can be fixed if it is.

We wait. I grow thirsty and finish the last of my gatorade and then Scott shows up saying "Let's fix a chain." And there's Doug, bleeding a bit from his right knee. No mountain bike ride is complete until there is blood, right? Doug's adventure was merely a clipped in fall from standing--no big thrills to report. Just another Adventure.

Scott demonstrates what he's learned working at B&L for a couple of months. The chain goes on, the link is opened, the chain is closed. Oh, yeah. Doesn't the chain go through the front derailleur? A job worth doing is worth doing twice. One of these days I'm going to learn to use a chain toll too. Just another Adventure.

The rest of the ride is pretty uneventful. I'm pretty wiped back at the pickup. I drink a pop, and most of the water left in my camel back before starting the pepper bear Doug's offering. After that it is all just a blur. Something about stretches being better on the carpet and lots of flotsam in the water which is much higher than it was this morning.

We're all tired but I can hardly stand. The wind comes up and blows dust on us. Doug says "Corrie's still not sure about this mountain biking." Its been all day and I've got 35 miles and 4000 ft of climbing. Just another adventure.

And, Sean, all you had to do was wait a couple of hours. Wimp.