It was during the preride of the Birkie 200 last month when Ray Ogilvie mentioned Marcello Napolitano’s intention to organize a flèche team to ride from Hillsboro, OR to Olympia, WA in mid-April. “Sure. I’m interested,” I told Ray.
Cycling-wise, a flèche is a 24-hour randonneuring team event of at least 360 km. Each team designs its own route, and they all finish at a common end point (in this case, Olympia, WA). Most of the teams in this year’s Flèche NW came from Seattle. (There were a dozen, I believe.) There was one team from British Columbia, and Marcello’s team from Oregon. And there was a mighty fine brunch at the finish where all the teams got together to share their experiences.
Ray ended up not riding after all. But fortunately, Ed Groth and Theo Roffe did, making Marcello’s team a compatible foursome that left Marcello’s home in Hillsboro at 7:00 AM on Saturday, the 17th. I had ridden over from Beaverton earlier that morning, and found Ed and Theo already having breakfast. They had in fact ridden over the previous evening and stayed overnight with the Napolitanos. It wasn’t until Marcello handed us our brevet cards (while I was digesting biscuits and gravy) that I discovered our team name was “Not All Who Wander Are Lost.” A true meanderer’s motto, I thought, appreciating not having been involved in the naming process (with my recent move, work, training, tango, and all that).
I was also not involved in route design, which suited me just fine. From Hillsboro, Marcello’s route headed to Forest Grove then continued on familiar Gales Creek and Timber Roads to Vernonia. The server at the rando-friendly Black Bear Café knew exactly what to do with our brevet cards without being asked.
The next section to Birkenfield went by unusually quickly. From Birkenfield, Marcello initially intended to cross the Columbia River on the ferry between Clastskanie, OR and Kathlamet, WA. But because a lack of confidence in the Westport Ferry’s schedule and frequency this time of year, we instead rode West from Birkenfield over to Astoria.
Anyone who knows me knows I like good Northwest microbreweries. Well, there’s a reputable one in Astoria called Fort George.
After some discussion with Marcello, Ed, and Theo along Highway 202 (and then figuring out its address and how to get there), we decided to do lunch at said Fort George Brewery. Even though Marcello isn’t into beer, he was happy to stop there, thereby potentially shortening the time we might have to spend in some small shut-down town in the middle of nowhere, WA at the 22-hour contrôle. Well, the beer was good … but the sausage that Marcello ordered, less so.
I was surprised how clean the 4-mile 2-lane Astoria-Megler Bridge was. Last time I traversed it (over 2 years prior in the other direction on the Clatskanie-Cape Disappointment 200k permanent), it was full of debris. Hubcaps and other miscellaneous stuff, mixed in with large caked-on tarry patches of gravel often pushed me out into the traffic lane. But this time ‘round, there were no issues. And boy is the mouth of the Columbia ever wide!
The Oregon portion of our journey was intermittently (and pleasantly) drizzly. But once we got to Naselle, (where Marcello flatted, then where lightness went away), the precipitation got more persistent. The next 30-some-odd miles up Highway 101 to Raymond seemed to go slowly, with lots of rollers, the tops of which offered glimpses of a thickly starry sky, and the bottoms of which descended into thick fog. The typical team scenario during this stretch was for Ed, Theo and me to pause at the top of a roller and wonder where Marcello was, only to have him speedily pass us on his recumbant trike during a number of wet descents into the fog.
Someday I might get to see Raymond and vicinity in the daylight. But not during last Spring’s SIR 600, and certainly not on this ride. But the shabby yet well-patronized Chevron convenience store provided a recognizable frame of reference, and served as our contrôle.
We continued Northwards to Montesanno (which I remember remarkably little about) then East towards Elma and McCleary. Elma’s a big town (relatively). McCleary is not. But McCleary’s the dimly-lit town where the highly-anticipated (or was it dreaded) 22-hour contrôle was. Absolutely nothing was open in McCleary at 5:00 AM. But we did find a credit union ATM that provided us with a receipt. We needn’t have worried about lingering there.
Of our quartet, Ed seemed the most determined to finish on time. Or at least he appeared to be willing his teammates onward by jumping ahead. I felt a bit elasticized between him and Theo and Marcello, who were behind me a bit.
This was particularly the case on the 12-mile stretch of Highway 8 heading into Olympia. Once it became light, Ed’s determination really became evident after he flatted on Old Highway 410. I have never seen anyone change a flat so fast. Ever!
Once we found our way to the Red Lion Inn in Olympia, we were greeted by Susan France, Mark Thomas, Marcello’s wife Cathy, and my friend Amy. Ah blessed showers! But precious little time for a nap before the 9:00 brunch.
Unfortunately, I had to leave the brunch before all the teams told their stories. But before I did, Marcello gestured to me to be the spokesperson for our “Not All Who Wander Are Lost” team. Interestingly, we were preceded by the overachieving team that included fast boys Brian Ohlemeier and Jan Heine. ‘Twas interesting cuz I’d never seen nor met Jan before. Sure, I’ve read a few issues of Bicycle Quarterly, and have a friend in Portland who refers to him as “zero-percent-body-fat-Jan.” But to see him in person … well … he seemed a bit taller and leaner than I expected. And I started to wonder if his SIR jersey was really painted (or tattooed) on.
I introduced Marcello, Theo, and Ed to everyone … mentioned our stop at Ft. George Brewery in Astoria … and how long it took to get to Raymond … and how it was Ed’s, Theo’s and my first successful flèche. But on the trip home, and during much of the subsequent week, I rewrote that “speech” (for lack of a better word) many times.
The essence of what I wish I had said about our team but didn’t is:
“I don’t know what might constitute a typical Oregon flèche team, but I would consider our group to be as much a “Portland bike culture” team than a rando team. Take Ed, for instance. He lives bikes, doesn’t own a car, and fulfilled his offer to volunteer at the Birkie 200k last month by pedalling his cargo bike up to Vernonia with all his coffee-making equipment, then serving all the riders French press coffee in ceramic mugs at the first contrôle.
Marcello could be considered a suburban proponent of Portland bike culture … multiple bikes for all family members in his garage … plus who else would serve fresh eggs to his teammates hatched from chickens in the back yard? Theo (to me) was the erudite, articulate, philosophic, wiser-than-his-young-looks kind of guy who can tell you anything you want to know about UC Davis bike culture.”
Perhaps Susan France said it best in a comment after Theo and I subsequently connected on Facebook, “After 24 hrs together you are friends.... that's a good sign ;-)”
The rest of my photos are here on Flickr.
Theo Roffe's pictures are on his Flickr site.
Friday, April 30, 2010
Friday, April 16, 2010
Three Capes 300k Brevet Report
The annual running of the “Three Capes” 300k brevet took place on April 10th. This was my fourth year of riding this particular 186-miler, and for a change, I was determined to improve my time.
The brevet starts in Forest Grove, and after a couple small detours, heads out Highway 6 to Tillamook. From there, it goes on a hilly scenic tour of Cape Mears, Cape Lookout, and Cape Kiwanda before heading back to Pacific City. The next piece is charming Little Nestuca River Road, and then the towns of Grande Ronde, Willimina, Sheridan, Ballston, followed by Amity, Dayton, and Layfayette. The last leg hugs the reputable Ribbon Ridge (North Valley Rd) on the way back to Forest Grove.
I rode out to the start with Joshua Bryant in the wee, pre-dawn hours of that Saturday. Joshua actually rode out from SE Portland, and his route happened to pass very near my new place in Beaverton. So I joined him for the last 16 miles, and we ended up beating Michael (the organizer) to the start in Forest Grove by about 20 minutes.
Once the ride began, I was able to keep up with a relatively fast group of riders to about Stringtown Road. They were still in sight on Gales Creek Road when venerable Del Scharffenberg pulled up along side (on his decades old red Schwinn Paramount). For some reason, he started a few minutes late. We chatted some, and he allowed me to draft for about four miles. Eventually my thighs started burning as he picked up the pace. He then gradually faded in the distance in pursuit of his faster buddies.
Between the Timber cutoff and the summit on Highway 6, I basically played leapfrog with Mike Richeson (of West Seattle) and Holden Hughart. (Holden wears a lot of loud reflective gear and rides a bike with flat handlebars and disk brakes. He and I also leapfrogged a bit during the Bikenfest 200k last October).
On the way up to the Highway 6 summit, another venerable rider, John Kramer, passed me. I cranked things up a bit to stay with him as we caught up with Richeson. The three of us shared 6-minute pulls during the 28-mile descent into Tillamook. It was a lot of work keeping up with the two of them, but it was also my quickest arrival in Tillamook by a long shot. Instead of going to the local Safeway (which is what I’ve done in years past), the three of us visited a smaller Shell station/convenience store for the contrôle (which probably shaved off a little time).
Kramer and Richeson passed me on the Cape Meares Loop as I double checked an info-contrôle question on my brevet card. From that point all the way to the Sourgrass Summit, I rode alone. (I figured I wouldn’t have been able to keep up with Mike and John even if I had caught them. It was actually amazing how quickly they disappeared from sight while I was just putting on my gloves.)
I stopped at the Stimulus espresso shop in Pacific City (another almost-annual ritual), and was tempted to ask the servers if they offered any “stimulus packages” (like a bagel/cream cheese/latte special). But instead, I just chased a small mocha with a $2 bottle of water (the $3 bottle being just too over-the-top).
Soon after Little Nestuca River Road and the Sourgrass Summit, I was caught by a rider on a Specialized cycle wearing a Seattle Randonneurs jersey. Turns out his name is Will Goss. He and I ended riding the remainder of the brevet (the last 70 miles) together.
We stopped briefly in Grande Ronde, but not long enough to buy anything, as the line in the convenience store was way too long, and the help way too short-handed. Instead, we rode 26 more miles to Amity before seriously “re-fueling.” Between Grande Ronde and there, we missed the “OR” sign for crossing over to Yamhill River Road (thereby riding Hwy 18 for longer than was pleasant), but got back on track for the now-familiar towns of Willimina and Sheridan.
Zip ties provided the answer to the info-contrôle question in Ballston. The novelty for me, though, was that the sun was still shining … and that its angle was still many degrees above the horizon!
In Amity, Will and I caught up with John Kramer, and were joined by Jim Hinkley (in full 2010 orange Team Oregon regalia). While “refueling,” I checked my cell phone, and discovered a text message from my coach. (Yes, I now have a coach, as I figured I’d never be able to successfully complete 1200k PBP left to my own devices.)
Brian, Apr 10, 2010 17:47:20 “Hows it going?”
Me, Apr 10, 2010 18:21:59 “36 mi 2 go”
Brian, Apr 10, 2010 18:22:37 “Kill it”
And my next thought was, “With what?!”
Kramer elected to linger a bit longer outside Amity. But fortunately for me, Will and Jim seemed willing (if not knowing) accomplices to “the kill.” Will and I traded pulls to Dayton, Layfayette, and North Valley Road. Then Jim took over with a vengeance when it got dark (before Spring Hill Road). Fortunately, he reeled it in a bit to allow me to keep up. It was kinda exciting doing the paceline thing after dark. Don’t think I’ve ever done that before. Sure took a lot of concentration.
Unfortunately for Jim, he flatted about one mile from the finish, just before the right turn onto Highway 47. He graciously sent Will and me on our way, allowing me to record a personal best 300k time of 14 hours and 53 minutes. That’s about 2-3 hours better than all my previous attempts at this distance.
After checking in with Michael Rassmussen and company, I headed to the bar for a Hammerhead ale and completed the following text correspondence with my coach:
Me, Apr 10, 2010 21:09:55 “U mean ‘Kill Bill?’
14 hrs, 53 min, pers best
nuttin like paceline after dark (last 12 miles)
I’m really sore”
Brian, Apr 10, 2010 21:12:24 “Bill rocks! Nicely done
Tiny gear hr or 2 tomorrow”
Me, Apr 10, 2010 21:16:50 “tiny gear back 2 Beaverton?”
Brian, Apr 10, 2010 21:17:55 “As small as you’ve got”
It would have probably been prudent to take the bus or Max back to Beaverton. Alan Woods even offered me and my bike a ride. But something in me wanted to be able to say, “I biked to the coast and back from my home in Beaverton.” And so I did, even though it was a sketchy-tired spin in the smallest chainring all the way back home.
A couple more picture of the coast are here on Flickr.
The brevet starts in Forest Grove, and after a couple small detours, heads out Highway 6 to Tillamook. From there, it goes on a hilly scenic tour of Cape Mears, Cape Lookout, and Cape Kiwanda before heading back to Pacific City. The next piece is charming Little Nestuca River Road, and then the towns of Grande Ronde, Willimina, Sheridan, Ballston, followed by Amity, Dayton, and Layfayette. The last leg hugs the reputable Ribbon Ridge (North Valley Rd) on the way back to Forest Grove.
I rode out to the start with Joshua Bryant in the wee, pre-dawn hours of that Saturday. Joshua actually rode out from SE Portland, and his route happened to pass very near my new place in Beaverton. So I joined him for the last 16 miles, and we ended up beating Michael (the organizer) to the start in Forest Grove by about 20 minutes.
Once the ride began, I was able to keep up with a relatively fast group of riders to about Stringtown Road. They were still in sight on Gales Creek Road when venerable Del Scharffenberg pulled up along side (on his decades old red Schwinn Paramount). For some reason, he started a few minutes late. We chatted some, and he allowed me to draft for about four miles. Eventually my thighs started burning as he picked up the pace. He then gradually faded in the distance in pursuit of his faster buddies.
Between the Timber cutoff and the summit on Highway 6, I basically played leapfrog with Mike Richeson (of West Seattle) and Holden Hughart. (Holden wears a lot of loud reflective gear and rides a bike with flat handlebars and disk brakes. He and I also leapfrogged a bit during the Bikenfest 200k last October).
On the way up to the Highway 6 summit, another venerable rider, John Kramer, passed me. I cranked things up a bit to stay with him as we caught up with Richeson. The three of us shared 6-minute pulls during the 28-mile descent into Tillamook. It was a lot of work keeping up with the two of them, but it was also my quickest arrival in Tillamook by a long shot. Instead of going to the local Safeway (which is what I’ve done in years past), the three of us visited a smaller Shell station/convenience store for the contrôle (which probably shaved off a little time).
Kramer and Richeson passed me on the Cape Meares Loop as I double checked an info-contrôle question on my brevet card. From that point all the way to the Sourgrass Summit, I rode alone. (I figured I wouldn’t have been able to keep up with Mike and John even if I had caught them. It was actually amazing how quickly they disappeared from sight while I was just putting on my gloves.)
I stopped at the Stimulus espresso shop in Pacific City (another almost-annual ritual), and was tempted to ask the servers if they offered any “stimulus packages” (like a bagel/cream cheese/latte special). But instead, I just chased a small mocha with a $2 bottle of water (the $3 bottle being just too over-the-top).
Soon after Little Nestuca River Road and the Sourgrass Summit, I was caught by a rider on a Specialized cycle wearing a Seattle Randonneurs jersey. Turns out his name is Will Goss. He and I ended riding the remainder of the brevet (the last 70 miles) together.
We stopped briefly in Grande Ronde, but not long enough to buy anything, as the line in the convenience store was way too long, and the help way too short-handed. Instead, we rode 26 more miles to Amity before seriously “re-fueling.” Between Grande Ronde and there, we missed the “OR” sign for crossing over to Yamhill River Road (thereby riding Hwy 18 for longer than was pleasant), but got back on track for the now-familiar towns of Willimina and Sheridan.
Zip ties provided the answer to the info-contrôle question in Ballston. The novelty for me, though, was that the sun was still shining … and that its angle was still many degrees above the horizon!
In Amity, Will and I caught up with John Kramer, and were joined by Jim Hinkley (in full 2010 orange Team Oregon regalia). While “refueling,” I checked my cell phone, and discovered a text message from my coach. (Yes, I now have a coach, as I figured I’d never be able to successfully complete 1200k PBP left to my own devices.)
Brian, Apr 10, 2010 17:47:20 “Hows it going?”
Me, Apr 10, 2010 18:21:59 “36 mi 2 go”
Brian, Apr 10, 2010 18:22:37 “Kill it”
And my next thought was, “With what?!”
Kramer elected to linger a bit longer outside Amity. But fortunately for me, Will and Jim seemed willing (if not knowing) accomplices to “the kill.” Will and I traded pulls to Dayton, Layfayette, and North Valley Road. Then Jim took over with a vengeance when it got dark (before Spring Hill Road). Fortunately, he reeled it in a bit to allow me to keep up. It was kinda exciting doing the paceline thing after dark. Don’t think I’ve ever done that before. Sure took a lot of concentration.
Unfortunately for Jim, he flatted about one mile from the finish, just before the right turn onto Highway 47. He graciously sent Will and me on our way, allowing me to record a personal best 300k time of 14 hours and 53 minutes. That’s about 2-3 hours better than all my previous attempts at this distance.
After checking in with Michael Rassmussen and company, I headed to the bar for a Hammerhead ale and completed the following text correspondence with my coach:
Me, Apr 10, 2010 21:09:55 “U mean ‘Kill Bill?’
14 hrs, 53 min, pers best
nuttin like paceline after dark (last 12 miles)
I’m really sore”
Brian, Apr 10, 2010 21:12:24 “Bill rocks! Nicely done
Tiny gear hr or 2 tomorrow”
Me, Apr 10, 2010 21:16:50 “tiny gear back 2 Beaverton?”
Brian, Apr 10, 2010 21:17:55 “As small as you’ve got”
It would have probably been prudent to take the bus or Max back to Beaverton. Alan Woods even offered me and my bike a ride. But something in me wanted to be able to say, “I biked to the coast and back from my home in Beaverton.” And so I did, even though it was a sketchy-tired spin in the smallest chainring all the way back home.
A couple more picture of the coast are here on Flickr.
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