Crusty Cassette

Jim McCracken is a dangerous man. So, quiet, so urbane, so soft spoken and mild mannered! Yet, inside his blood seethes with adventure. Riding around Mt. Rainier in one day was not enough. He had already hiked around it. Now he was going for the triple crown. Now he was going to climb it.

That meant spending lots of weekends learning to climb with the Spokane Mountaineers this spring. It also meant Clair is a very patient woman.

So what's next Jim? How about hang-gliding off Mt. Rainier or extreme skiing? Ooops. Sorry, Clair.

See Jim's Slildeshow Read Jim's Account here.

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Well, I wouldn't have said so.

I ride a bike but has it changed my life?

My first bike was a balloon-tired steel woman's bike my father dug out of the barn. It had been my mother's. It was vintage even in the mid-50's when it came into my life.The fact that it was a woman's bike created more embarrassment for me than that it was an adult bike several sizes too big for me. Neither kept me from daily trips to the pool, though I preferred a ride in my friend's car which saved the hot bike ride up the hill home.

Today I'm riding a several thousand dollar bike that is itself several models out of date as bike technology advances or suffers designed obsolescence. That bike has over 28,000 miles on it today and is my third adult road bike. I had a $75 dollar used 10 speed Swhinn for awhile and a Giant Innova Cross for the bike path after that. But I hadn't really begun to ride yet. I was a runner.

We lived three-quarters of a mile from the paved road where we got our mail. Those balloon tires did just fine on that sometimes muddy and rutted hardpan roadway. Dad put me on the back (it had a rack) and pedalled to the pavement for the Sunday paper. I learned my first bicycle lesson that way. Do not put your feet into the purty spinning spokes.

I don't remember any subsequent bicycle injuries until as an adult, I began to experience dogs, busy bike paths, and the like. Call me timid, but I have never broken a bone doing anything let alone riding a bike despite a couple of endos as an adult. (Blame the dogs and riding too close to the shoulder).

I never had any other bike than my Mother's as a child. The white side-wall tires were cracked like dry mud. I don't ever remember putting air in those tires and I know I never oiled the chain. Perhaps Dad did when I wasn't looking, but he didn't seem interested. Perhaps he was waiting for me to take an interest.

That bike had a kickstand. It stood next the wood-pile all the years of my youth in rain and snow. It was always there and ready to go. It gave me some freedom, but not too much--town was comparatively far away and my buddy didn't see the point in long bike rides.

I came to endurance activities late in college when I found myself both overweight and diagnosed with high-blood pressure. I began to run. In time I found a running companion and we completed seven marathons together. By the time the doctor told him he'd have to give up running we had both burned out on the running.

I had the cross by then and he bought a mountain bike. Our first rides were four miles around the Blue and Southway Bridges after school. He was recovering from surgery on a disc. Then we graduated to the big time--A long ride took us to Asotin or maybe we'd ride up the Spiral Grade. We started doing Evan's Road and thought that was something.

But we were Marathoners. We could do anything. My buddy found a bicyle route book for Spokane and proposed we ride a century. Why not? Half hte time you are coasting on a bike anyway. We picked the hottest day of the year, had only our water bottles, managed to get lost, and got back to the finish at only 95 miles. I was happy to eat a snack and let it go. But this guy was ambitious and driven by nature. He insisted we get back on the bikes and finish the century. Perhaps that's where I get my desire to ride 100 miles.

My mother's bike never exactly went away, but at 16 I started driving. At 18 I got my first car. The bike was forgotten. I never learned about road bikes until a college roomate showed up with one. He hooked it up above the back of his bunk. He didn't ride it to class. He didn't seem to ride it at all. But one day he did.

"How far did you go?" I asked.

"About 20-25 miles."

I was impressed.

My adult running buddy became my adult biking buddy. But his career was changing. He didn't have as much time to train. Still I was the reluctant one. When he decided to ride STP, I tried a 30 mile ride which took me all of 2 hours and reported back that I had no interest in STP. I had discovered good sense.

Still, I did most of his training rides and joined him for the metric century version of the White Pine Classic. We decided to do Tour de Lacs--the 40 mile and back version. that was in 1999. He was still on his mountain bike and I on my cross or maybe the cheap Raliegh mt bike I had bought for my son. That weekend I bought my first adult bike--a Bianchi Eros. It would be shipped to me from Vertical Earth in Couer d'Alene. He bought a road bike the next morning in Spokane on our way home.

In 2000, he talked me into riding STP for the first time. I was in better shape. He still hadn't been able to train as much as he'd have liked. I found myself riding up the hills passing people and waiting as the re-passed me. At 90 miles on day two, I still felt good and could only wonder at those I saw lying on their backs alongside the road. It's only 10 more miles I thought.

And suddenly there was Largent and his notorious guidebook to North Idaho Cycling--short version: find a hill and climb it.

My riding buddy was a building administrator, a principal. His schedule got so busy he scarcely had time to ride. I'd often start at his place and have a beer or several with him after the ride. It wasn't as good as having a riding partner, but hey, he provided the beer!

I was in my forties. I needed to find companions or do endurance on my own. So I went looking for riding companions and found Twin Rivers Cyclists. First it was Debbie and Nicki. Those two seemed to be at everything and rode at my pace. I decided to try Bite the Bullet. It's only 16 miles--32 if you count the return. I asked Debbie if anyone was going to extend the ride.

Debbie pointed out Steve and I approached him. "I hear you're extending your ride today."

"Yeah, out to Nez Perce for lunch About 20 miles one way..

I didn't know that this would became a regular ride for me after Bite the Bullet. That day was 85 miles. I drove home in heaven. I had done 85 miles! Oh, I had already done STP and that one century with my first biking buddy. But those were planned for. I had trained for them. Today I had wanted more than 32 miles but 85 was ridiculous.

I had fallen into bad company. It wouldn't end.

Steve seemed to be the bike club from my perspective. It was Steve who called for those long rides on weekends. I was good for one day, but not both. I didn't want to see a bike after a Saturday Century. Joseph with it's back to back centuries, scared me a little.

Steve took me on several long rides that summer including my first Winchester Century--my favorite local ride. We did White Bird with the Mt. Idaho extension. We did Cottonwood and followed it the next day with a Huckleberry ride. We did Hubbard Gulch and the Troy Grade. He took me up Wawawai Canyon and Albion Loop.

And just like that, he was gone, off to ride across the country. Would I keep cycling? Or would I just quit? I couldn't keep up with Chris who was pretty much the only other guy who'd show up for Steve's long rides regularly.

With Steve gone, who'd call for rides? I would. I put in nearly 11,000 miles that year most of it spent Chasing Cruel--my blog name for Chris.

And now I was the cyclist. A long way from the boy who never oiled his chain or pumped up his tires. I was cleaning my chain after every ride. I give away the cross, the Bianchi goes to my youngest son, and I buy a Lemond and Gary Fisher, and finally the Pilot 5.2 I'm riding now.. I joined the board of the club, became the treasurer, the webmaster.

I retired from teaching but began to get interested in advocacy. I find myself reading blogs and websites about cycling rights. I post daily pieces I've seen elsewhere in my reading. I plan my days and my weeks around "getting in my miles." I watch the weather forecast with apprehension and delight.And January finds us already signed up for IBR and RSVP. (if you don't recognize the alphabet soup, you're not riding enough.)

I fall into more bad company and end up touring in Death Valley, Owhyee, the Wallowa's. Linda's only way to satiate her travel bug is to get me to go on supported tours in Idaho, Oregon, Canada.Oh, and she did one in Greece. Bicycling may have changed our lives.

I begin to represent cyclists on Community Action Committees for the pedestrian bike way in Clarkston and the Southway/129 interchange and for the Port of Clarkston and nascent efforts to create a "Breakheart Trail." I join the Bicycle Alliance of Washington, The League of American Cyclists. Rails-to-Trails. The Cascade Bicycle Club. I become a league certified cycling instructor.

"And how are you spending your retirement?"

"I ride my bike."

No. Bicycling hasn't changed me.

For the ride of it.

Corrie

The deal with 2LT Klein was- he'd mountain bike to Silver City with me over Labor Day I’d hike up Mt. Borah with him later that month. Payment in full came due on 27 Sep.

This isn't a cycling event. It was done in payment for a friend's cycling with me, so read on only if you want a cyclist's perspective on climbing. My perspective is that of a reasonably fit touring cyclist testing out another sport.

Read the Full Story

The deal with 2LT Klein was- he'd mountain bike to Silver City with me over Labor Day I’d hike up Mt. Borah with him later that month. Payment in full came due on 27 Sep.

This isn't a cycling event. It was done in payment for a friend's cycling with me, so read on only if you want a cyclist's perspective on climbing. My perspective is that of a reasonably fit touring cyclist testing out another sport.

Read the Full Story

"Joseph is the Only Ride Rain Doesn't Cancel!"--Mike Riddle

"I wanted this to be the worst ever ride!"--Bill Arnold

I'm in my drops, riding hard. I've crested Bufford and though I'm still climbing that false summit, I'm making good time and feeling good. So what's the problem?

I can't see. The light rain that started as I crested made me flag down Leanne and ask for the rain gear I'd left with her at Bogan's. That rain grew worse and worse until my feet were soggy inside my shoes, the rain no longer danced on the pavement but left impact ripples destroyed immediately by half-a dozen new drops driving into us. Two things made this a puddle short of the rain we had three years ago: little or no wind and fairly warm temps.

I've dropped Dave 'cause its every cyclists for himself in the storm when you are running for shelter. My eyes, bad to begin with, are not penetrating sheets of rain not to mention the fog and mist. Ahead to my right I see dark shapes hovering off the road. It's on a slight rise. "Joseph Lookout," I think. But then I realize it must be the Rimrock Cafe. I look for a car with bikes on it. I know that Nicki and Mike planned lunch here. But I can barely see under the small porch at the entrance. And I'm spinning past when I do see someone step out and wave. I turn and negotiate gravel and puddles. "What are you guys doing hanging out under this porch?" I complain.

It's not just one or two. It's everyone. Well Linda's inside warm and dry having lunch with Mike and Nicki and Carol and Sean. Out ahead of us, Bill Arnold and Doug Goodenough are on their own having out run the SAG which has stopped here and shows no sign of moving on. Behind are Dave and Lee, further back, Lumin, An, Jim.

Linda's group had arrived just before the rain. Dave and I were among the first to start out from Bogan's but dead last by the time we had changed his tire four times and worked on the brake. Becky came back to check on us saying Chandler didn't want her to get ahead of him. He'd said he wouldn't ride Bufford but started out just the same. Got to finish it too.

We had already gotten wet on the prairie to Anatone. It hadn't been heavy but at Bogan's I pulled out the extra pair of dry socks thinking how smart I was to have brought them. The sun threatened to come out and we were going to climb so I left my gear in the SAG. How was I to know then that at Rim Rock I'd be ringing out that "dry" pair of socks and putting up with cracks about "how cute" I looked all bedraggled like a wet kitten. Linda's got a virtual kitten on her desktop so I guess that tells me who started that story.

We had four figs: Desginated SAG vehicles driven by Jan and Leanne and when Chandler showed up Becky came along acting as SAG as well. And Nikci had her car too. We had 21 people on the list but Scott Whitely hadn't come. We thought we'd missed Doug but he'd only missed us thinking we were starting in Asotin. He drove to the top of Anatone and rode the rest of the way. So with SAG drivers we had 20 people and nearly as many bikes. (Jan had a bike, but Neither Becky nor Leanne did.) Could we get everyone to Joseph?

Sure. Doug and Bill were already on their way. Turned out we didn't catch them until Enterprise and neither wanted a ride at that point. Mike and Sean had the full rain regalia including boots and hoods. They were ready to ride. Dave's recumbent had to go on his back rack and he could take one additinal bike on top. So how many bikes did Lance have in the back of his pick up this time? hard to tell. He was fully loaded with four I think. Then we added more bikes between the ones whose forks were anchored to bike mounts. And Linda's bike minus the front wheel fit nicely sideways between the tailgate and the bike mounts. At least seven.

We managed to get everyone to Joseph without making anyone wait for a second trip. In Joseph priority number one was to get dry. Newspaper stuffed into your shoes works really well especially if you dangle them over the heat fan in your room. I made a trip across the street to dry some things out at the Laundromat. This picture pretty much sums up the spinning for Saturday.

Sunday's forecast looked better but I had little faith in it since I'd expecgted chance of thunder showers on Saturday to mean little more than a dark cloud and a few drops rather than the down pour that didn't stop until sometime in the middle of the night. However, Dave's laptop forecast sunshine and tailwinds for Sunday. Well, at least it was mostly dry. We had a head wind from Enterprise almost to Joseph Lookout where we began to have a nice tailwind.

We've seen and felt colder mornings in Joseph. The ride in to Enterprise for breakfast might have been more comfortable if I used my heavier long fingered glvoes but we were fine. I even saw some bare legs. Brr.

I've taken some flack recently about pace but the head winds leaving Enterprise gave Sean and Doug and Dave and myself a bit of advantage. Doug powered out as usual. Jim went with him but faded back. I was hanging back behind Dave partly from my concern for pace and partly because I was feeling more sluggish than Saturday's 57 miles should have accounted for. Couldn't have been those three drafts could it?

We had some fun trying to catch Dave who hadn't stopped at the first big hill to remove a jacket. Sean punished Doug and me but now we were on the rollers and began to feel a tail wind.

It wasn't warm and at Joseph Lookout, we put our jackets back on. Doug flew by without stopping and Sean hurried off not wanting to get cold and not wanting that "bastard" to get ahead of him either I'll bet. Dave and I took it pretty easy. We had spent too much time at the lookout and I was shivering, transferring that to my frame making me even more uncomfortable.

Dave generally flies by on the down hill but today it wasn't safe. The rains made those rock banks calve like a glacier in global warming. The rocks didn't quite reach boulder status but some were big as your head while most were scattered like meteor fragments across the traffic lane.

Chris had ridden out to meet. He turned around just above the big switch back on Bufford. Mike and An, who had discovered what we all know that Mike's the best wheel to suck,arrived soon. Lumin with a tender achilles tendon rolled in later as did Carol and Bill. Bill had warmed up from his century Saturday and was now giving chase to the front runners.

Somewhere back of us was the peleton. They'll have to add there experiences to mine.

This is not a race, but sometimes it feels like it. For example, Chris headed off up Rattlesnake dropping Doug and Dave and me. I've never liked Rattle snake. It's too long and usually too hot. Not today but I meant to stay contained. Soon Sean came powering by. "Go push Chris around," I told him. He was diffident but later reported he'd held 12mph from Bogan's to Anatone and had caught Chris. Chris had kept going though so we couldn't get his side of the story. We just had to listen to Sean's--anyone believe what Sean says?

Too cold to wait at the top of Rattlesnake, Doug and I rode into Anatone and sat out of the rain with Sean waiting for Dave and then Bill to arrive. Rested and anticipating tailwinds, we headed off. Sean took off and Dave shot by and then Doug caught him too. It was all I could do to stay at the tail end. We were hitting a steady 30+ mph though I saw as low as 28 a couple of times. When we got to 33 or 35, I was out of gears. I had no more. Just as well, I was beginning to feel a bit unsafe on the bike.

Joseph isn't really a century unless you add about five miles. I usually get that by riding from home. Rained out on Saturday, I wanted that century on Sunday. That meant I didn't head home up Critchfield but rode to the boat launch--that's the one in Lewiston called Southway, Doug. I'd get my century by riding home going around the Blue Bridge first.

Bill Arnold rode in with us from Anatone and headed home with his luggage on his back. He might not have gotten exactly a 100 miles but he was pretty close to 200 for the weekend.

Mike reported 195 for his two days but said he didn't need five more.

And then Lee arrived by himself. "I've got 94 miles," he said. "I guess I should get going, then?" It was almost as if he were asking permission to ride to Hell's Gated and back to get his first century.

No permission needed, Lee. Congratulations on that first century. I'm sure you would have made it on Saturday but for the rain. Running, biking a century. Lee's on the move.

And for those who expect to ride in the rain (Steve, I'm talking about you), I'd like to note that there was not one fender onthe entire trip.

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