Ride Report: Hub on Wheels

21 Sep 2008.

I was surprised. I expected the temperature to be cold, like it had been on my shakedown ride the day before. 40 anything Fahrenheit is not warm, yet as I stepped out of my car, I was surprised. The parking garage was surprisingly not cold. Pleasantly surprised, I opted to leave the leg warmers and cap in the car, and take only the arm warmers.

The cold really didn't seep into me until we were close to the start. The sun was obscured by the buildings that surround Boston's City Hall, and the wind that tears down those streets is brutal.

The start was... unique. Fast riders were to line up on the left (relative to the start line) and Slower riders were to line up on the right, the right being a far larger lane. No other guidance was offered, like, for example, what constitutes a fast rider.

Left to my own devices, I would say I'm a slow rider, 18+mph is pretty much my limit for long distances, and even that's limited (speed has not been a training priority for me). However there were people lining up in "fast" that claimed to have averages in the 12s. Not what I'd consider fast, but at least I knew I wasn't going to be the slowest fast rider.

5 Minutes to the start

The real reason I was lined up with the fast riders was I had met some nice cyclists while we were warming up in the few strands of sunlight that radiate across city hall park. One of which, George, a Marine from Hawaii, only started cycling this year and had already done the Mount Washington hill climb and a bunch of other charity and non-charity rides, including a century in Maine the previous weekend.

We, thanks to George, had lined up early and were only 20ft or so from the actual start line. It was assumed this would make our start much smoother than if we were farther back.

The Start Line

Behind us, there was a lady doing yoga in preparation for the ride. I never got her name, but she is a 4 season cyclist, or as she put it, "the fastest rider in February."

As the organizer took to the stage to remind the riders this was a "Ride not a Race," and introduce the Mayor of Boston, Thomas Menino, the energy changed in the peloton. Riders were now straddling their bikes, some had partially clipped in. The moment of truth was nearly at hand.

And then we were off.

After passing the start line it seemed like the majority of the slow riders drifted left, the organizers plan of fast-left slow-right a distant dream. I have never had to navigate through so many cyclists before. Despite being only 20ft from the front, we seemed to have at least a hundred riders in front of us. The problem with the slow riders isn't their speed, rather it's their inexperience. I can't zip by, I have to figure out what they are doing and plot the best course around them without scaring them. "On your left" only goes so far, especially in mass settings like this.

My solution? Expend a little more energy than I planned to break free of the group. Just after the on ramp to Storrow Drive, I switched to the big ring and powered it down the hill, a tad more aggressive than one would expect in a "ride." I quickly caught up with George who was waiting for others to join his intended break away.

We had three riders in our pace line and we poured it on. We rocketed by the "slower" groups in front of us. The best part of this being, as we did this, certain members of those groups would launch out to grab a wheel and join the train. In no time the lead riders were in sight.

It was at this point, as the road cleared in front of George, that I started having trouble keeping up. In traffic we were limited to around 24mph, but once clear George found another gear and took off. I kept close, to help the rider behind me, then pulled off, There was no way I was doing that pace over 50 miles.

I had planned my pulling off, so I was able to catch the wheel of a "slower" group, only going 20mph. Not that this was going to be a cake walk either, after D2R2 I hadn't really ridden my bike at all (Sept mileage: 18miles).

The problem with this group was they were inconsistent, sometimes blasting about 20, other times dropping down to 16mph. This meant that gaps were formed, and ever the good cycling citizen I took it upon myself to close these gaps. I figured it was the least I could do for hanging on everyone's wheels. Most of the time, when I tapped out my cadence I had a train following behind. A couple of times, unfortunately things didn't work out so well for the train, as I was let close the gap alone (i.e. didn't drag anyone else up).

The downside to this "good cycling citizen" behavior is you really start to wear yourself out. It is not easy to stay at the front of the train and close the gap. You can see the rider who's wheel you want, you stop thinking about the rest of the ride and become focused on his wheel. Energy conservation goes out the window.

In short order, I was dropped by this group as well. Left alone in no-man's land, I found a good recovery pace and just kept pedaling. At a certain point, I ran into George again. Turns out, someone up front gave him (and his train) a talking to about their pace ("This is a ride, not a race"). He grouped up with some others in our starting group and went on to enjoy the rest of the riding with them.

I soloed it to the first rest stop, choked down a gel and continued. The rest stop (like all first rest stops) was packed. I always hate stopping, when I start my legs are not there. To make matters worse, I was still smarting from my earlier efforts. It felt like this was going to be the hardest ride of my life.

One advantage, if you can call it that, of my predicament was my pace was slow, so I was passed by groups, groups whose wheels I could latch on to. One group that passed me (the only in this section, if my memory serves) was the Can Crash Cycling Club, known for their distinctive blue jerseys, with crash test dummy insignia.

the prophetically titled Can Crash Cycle Club

I paced them to the only real hill of the day. Of course, when I assumed pace setting duties, I wasn't expecting to be tested by a hill and unfortunately I popped. I hit the hill and had nothing for it. I pulled to the side, to let them pass, dropped to my granny gear and gutted it up the hill.

As I cleared the top I was pleasantly surprised to see most of that club on the side waiting for the last of their riders. Score. Unfortunately, I was not able to keep up with them as we approached the next bike path.

Unbeknownst to me, the lady from the start (yoga) was trying to catch up with me. She would commented later that I was a tough person to catch. The fact of the matter was I was consistent. I was feeling better and had found a good rhythm at 18mph, so that's what I kept tapping out. Later, at one point, she would blow pass me, only to be caught (and passed) a quarter mile or so down the road. Consistency has its advantages.

The bike path we were on was, simply put, a paved mountain bike path. Narrow, sharp corners and hills, a very technical path. It was in here that I caught the wheels of the Cans. A little aggressive cornering and hill climbing and I was back on their wheels.

At some point, I drifted off the back of this group as well, although I can't exactly recall when. Stopping for a red light, I was caught by another group, which included a fellow Mass Bike Pike Tour alum (with her distinctive Bianchi colored tires). She was hanging on the back of another group with a guy who had walked up the hill (at the time he said "I could ride up, but I want to save my legs to hammer later"). Anyway, on the back of this group, it was a different story ("You guys are way stronger riders than me.").

I digress, I dialed my cadence back to hang with this group (riding with people is far more fun than alone). However this didn't last long. We were entering some "hills" and the group was being splintered rather badly. At one point a lady with a white jersey (the lady in white), breezed past us. That's when I decided to pass. I slowly dialed the cadence up and easily passed the group.

At the top of the hill, we took a hard right, then had a pleasant descent. On the descent I could hear/feel the group catching up. I didn't want to get passed and have to pass them again, so I tucked in, making myself as aerodynamic as possible and succeeded in my endeavor.

Again, I was "stuck" setting the pace, maybe I should have let them pass...

After the hill, the 35 mile group merged with us. We're both going into the same cemetery entrance, albeit from opposite directions. Perhaps not the best way to merge the groups, neither group gave much quarter to the other. And what was worse from my perspective, now I had a full road of slower, sometimes inexperienced riders ahead of me. Needless to say, the pace dropped. Big time.

To the organizers credit, the duration of this chaos was limited. In short order we came upon the next rest stop. Which I skipped. I wasn't hungry, and I wanted clear roads. I didn't quite get them, as I still had to pass slower riders, but they were few and far between.

A little while after the rest stop (and after the rides had split again), I joined a spread out group of riders. A little boy and his mom were walking up the hill we were descending and the boy kept calling out "Hi!" to each passing rider. Unfortunately, no one was acknowledging his greeting. I don't think that's right. So after he called out his greeting to the person in front of me, I turned to him, smiled, waved, and said, "Hi!" His eyes brightened immediately as he enthusiastically waved back and said "HI!" to me. His mom, as well, smiled.

We would soon join the bike path that follows Neponset River to Dorchester Bay. The path was nice, roomy compared to some of the earlier ones, although this was the section the organizers had warned us about. There are two sections of this bike path that, for whatever reason, are not paved. The first section, early on, is a hard packed dirt/gravel mix. No handling problems for most cyclists, just a real fear of punctures. The second section was much trickier. It started as dirt. Right and proper hard packed dirt. Think walking path dirt. It then evolved into loose gravel. This is where your ability to handle your bike is tested. Unfortunately, again, the 35s and 50s were doing this together, so the trail was packed. I wound up riding on the grass to pass as many people on this section as I could, and ensure my own survival (touching wheels = bad).

The Reward: Boston's skyline

After taking in the sites on the water, we had to rejoin traffic on the roads. As we motored on the streets (again I was setting the pace for someone), we came to Morrissey Boulevard where the organizers had put out cones to separate us from the traffic.

It's funny, looking back with full knowledge, you pick up on things. One of the flag men telling something to a rider in front of me, who then pulled off the road after saying "thanks." Other riders were stopped in strange places with odd expressions. At the time I assumed they were tired and waiting for a friend.

The drawbridge in view, we can see a cruiser parked on it with an ambulance. Wow, a car accident, bizarre place for that.

That is when you see the body.

The legs outstretched covered by shorts of that distinctive blue.

The sight is only for a second before your position changes, making the ambulance obscure your view. A rider asks an officer, "Is he ok?" - "No."

On the side of the road, the whole Can Crash crew and some others, an officer crossing to talk with them. "He's our friend." The fake grass lain across the bridge for bikes to pass on. And you clear the ambulance.

The rider is face down, he is conscious, but the EMTs are not letting him move. Next to him a board, for him to be strapped to; they must be fearing a spinal injury.

As of this posting, I don't know his status. But based on conversations after the ride, I can piece together what happened. The draw bridge has slats for drainage, unfortunately they are North/South instead of East/West, meaning they go with traffic, put another way when a bicycle tire slips between the slats, it immediately stops and throws the rider. From what I heard, "He was thrown in the air" this must have been what happened. Given the organizers provided a safe lane for bikes to travel on (the fake grass), we can only wonder why he wasn't on it.

Sufice it to say, passing that scene dealt a big blow to the mood of the ride. It would take me a few minutes to recompose myself and get back on pace. I still wasn't 100%, until my favorite rabbit passed me again, the lady in white.

Eager to shake the funk, I jumped hard to catch her wheel and did it without any difficulty. A new invigoration filling my veins, I vowed at that point to jump at every opportunity.

Shortly after she passed me, she was caught out by a slower rider and I took the lead. Unfortunately, I missed the fact we were coming off a sidewalk and I probably should have looked for a ramp.

To late I saw, height difference. Off the curb I went. I believe she muttered a curse; I know she was far enough back that she would plot her course a little more carefully than I had. No worries for me, no harm done. I had enough time to post and bunny hop, just not enough to change course.

The rest of the ride was fairly uneventful, save we were riding through heavily trafficked roads in Boston's Financial district. We managed to navigate without much difficulty. Kudos to the Boston Drivers for putting up with us and the snags we caused (more correctly stated our marshals caused by stopping traffic).

The finish was setup brilliantly. Since this was a "Ride not a race," the organizers didn't want sprint finishes. The best way to accomplish that is to change terrain again, from roads to brick sidewalk and to fill the road with volunteers, including City Sports had employees who handed out musettes, Tour food station style. Very cool.

Two thumbs up. The course was extraordinarily well marked, with marshals at every "tricky" corner (and many not-so-tricky corners). The police were extremely helpful, closing some roads, and stopping intersection traffic at others. The views on the river were awesome, the woods were equally enjoyable. The food and drink was plentiful at the rest stops.

Distance:  48.45 miles
Climbing:   N/A
Ave Speed: 15.5 mph
Max Speed: 30.4 mph
Time: 3 hours 7 minutes 34 seconds

Trip Report: White Water Rafting in ME

06 Sept 2008.

The paperwork said we had to be there at 7:30am. It was 7:15am when we left Dunkin Donuts. It didn't look good.

The original plan had been to grab breakfast at the inn's restaurant, unfortunately arrangements needed to be made the previous night, a fact that eluded us until about 10pm. The backup plan was to zip into town and hit a diner. As we flew down the road, it became obvious a sit down breakfast was not going to be in the cards. A quick gas station breakfast was all we had time for.

Suffice it to say (and don't ask how), we made it back with time to spare. Of course, it is worth noting we were the first complete group to arrive.

We were going to be rafting the Penobscot River with Penobscot Adventures.

The Rapids of the Penobscot

After the requisite safety lecture ("Never let go of your T-handle," "Get out from under the boat in event of a flip," "Wait a few seconds after surfacing before inhaling" ), we boarded our chariot to the rapids, a blue school bus. There was a nervous energy on the bus, for the majority, this was their first rafting adventure and they had no idea what they were in for.

At the put in point, the groups split up, the guides reiterated the safety instructions, and the groups carried the rafts to the river. We put in north of Nesowadnehunk falls (Class 4) and immediately paddled away from it (North) to practice paddling and executing our guides commands.

Our guide for the day was Tony P., a four year veteran with Penobscot Adventures, and a bit of a character making him the perfect person for our group. When we got quiet, he'd toss us a joke and would even jump in when we poked fun at each other. Needless to say, he fit in with us perfectly.

So, after our brief operational instruction, we headed towards the Falls. The Falls are a Class 4, not for any technical difficulty, merely because there is a 10ft drop. I say merely not to denigrate the falls, but to put the difficulty of running them in the proper perspective.

So, our boat of novices (3 people had gone rafting before, including the guide), approaches their first taste of white water.

Nesowadnehunk Falls - 1st Approach

As the last picture is snapped, the rush of water catches the right side of the boat unprepared. The entire side (except the guide) washes overboard, myself included.

As I wash overboard, I drag my hand behind me, endeavouring (as instructed during the safety briefing) to catch the rope that runs along the side of the boat. I was successful. We cleared the rapid and Jacky (my left side equiv) grabs my PFD and lifts me aboard, after which I turn around and do the same to the next person I see. In the course of a few seconds we had managed to restore the boat to its original capacity.

A word about going overboard. I don't remember taking a deep breath before it happened. I've talked with others that knew they were going over and many times they speak of taking a deep breath before submersion. I don't recall that. What I do recall, vividly, is the feeling as my hand drags for the rope, the felling of other people in the water thrashing around you, on top of you, under you, and of course the surprise when I was pulled aboard that I hadn't let go of my paddle.

After this fun, Tony talked to us about what other fun could be had at the Falls. There is surfing, where the boat goes nose first into the falls, dowsing the front part of the boat (there's more to it than that, there needs to be a hole in the water where the guide can wedge the boat, using the water's natural flow to keep the raft in the surf). The other option is to paddle to a natural staircase, lift the boat out of the water and do it again. We of course choose to do both.

Initially, surfing, for me at least, was an apprehensive experience. I could feel the boat fighting the water (and being on the right side still) felt the exact same feeling I felt before going in, the boat leaning impossibly to one side. By the end of our play at the Falls, I got over that feeling (experience is the master teacher), but at this point it was very real.

After carrying the boat up the "staircase" (read: slippery rocks that look nothing like stairs), the lead row wanted to switch. It is worth noting the lead row, John in particular, was "volunteered" for that position by the group. So switching up was a fair thing to do. Ryan took John's place (I'm sorry but for the life of me I can't recall who was paired with them).

Ryan (starboard front) leading us over the Falls (as John (port rear) sits next to Tony)

The second (and third) time we went over the Falls we didn't lose anyone. Likewise, surfing held no surprises as we all started to understand what the raft was telling us. Although it is worth noting that Ryan had some great movements in the surf, growling and shouting, like a bear grabbing for trout, as his head was repeatedly battered by the water.

After playing a bit more, we paddled over to a natural water slide formed by run off from Mt Katahdin. I'll admit it was kind cool zipping down a natural water slide. And I do mean that literally. The mountain run off was far colder than the river proper. The river temperature was a touch over 60f, the run off felt at least 10f below that.

The reason the groups spent so much time playing on the Falls and slide was there were no more rapids for a while. For the next hour or two we floated down the river, paddling occasionally. This is where taking a camera really would have paid off. The surroundings were beautiful, from a hawk perched on a rock, taking to the air as we passed, to a family of ducks swimming like a train on the side of the river, Hikers waving from the forest and fishermen ignoring us. Long, but immensely beautiful.

It was around here that my light breakfast started to become an issue. With an hour to go, I started to get ravenous. If this were a bike ride, I would have just grabbed a power bar or gel, some quick nutrition. Unfortunately, none of those were available, so I suffered. I firmly believe this is why I can't recall any details about the last three rapids of the morning (Abol, Little Pock, and Big Pock (4,3,4) ). (The events of the afternoon may have also played a small part in that as well...)

At the lunch take-out, we had to take the rafts out of the water for transport to the afternoons rapids. Maybe it was me, but the raft seemed so much heavier after a morning of paddling than it did when we first put it in...

Before we get to the afternoon's adventures, a word or two must be written about lunch. In a single word, awesome. When we setup the trip we were given a choice for lunch options: steak, chicken, or vegetarian. The steak was the choice. Anyone who ever rafted with Penobscot Adventures, knew steak was the choice. As a mater of fact, there was even a person who exchanging her vegetarian option for steak. I think that says something about the steak. The sides were great too, a sweet rice, pasta salad, cookies for desert, and rolls. Protein, cabs, and simple sugars; everything you need to recover and get back on the river and do it again.

And after lunch that's exactly what we did. We were bussed up to the McKay station put-in. Immediately after the put in, you face class 5 rapids. Obviously the guides wanted to introduce new commands and underscore the importance of obedience. (we'll get to that shortly).

It was at this point, the previous two lead paddlers decide to "be nice" and let others take a shot at the first row. No one volunteered so it became a co-worker thing. Four people on this trip were co-workers. Two had taken a turn at the front of the boat, they weren't going to allow the remaining two (myself and Jacky) go home without doing the same. So, for not taking the initiative in the class 3-4 lower section, we were going to be leading the way through the class 5s. Lucky us.

The thing about rafting is it's all about feet position. When your feet are secure, you can withstand some tricky water. The catch is the front row doesn't have the luxury. You have nothing to tuck your feet under in front of you (like the rest of the boat), you have to tuck you feet behind you, a contortion that, well, just doesn't work very well. So you tuck one of your feet behind you and wedge the other in front of you and hope it's sufficient. Never been on the front before, insecure footing, going into class 5s... Not feeling to happy here....

Anyway, after we put in, we practice our new commands and perhaps the most important command. Obedience, which, of course, isn't really a command, just a blind continuation of the previous command until it is countermanded. Tony tests us on this one by having us charge full ahead... directly into the wall of the gorge. Which we did. The point being we will get in a serious bit of trouble if we second guess him. Class 5 rapids are not trivial and justly called "Extremely Difficult" in the International Scale of River Difficulty, so a "bit of trouble" can get serious quickly. Oh, and don't forget, I've never been on the front before, am unsure of my footing, going into class 5 rapids....

So, we get the word, paddle all ahead into the hydroplant's wash. The density of violent water always surprises me. In calm waters, the paddle easily moves the water back; in violent water it becomes a struggle. Into this violent wash, we charged. Closer and closer to the actual plant itself until we hit the right spot and voom, we spun and rode the wash straight into the rapids.

And in an instant, all fear of being on the front disappeared. On the front you could see the rapids coming. You could brace yourself, you could set your weight to react appropriately, you could, in essence, surf the rapids. Hell holds no fear for the the men at the front.

Ripogenus gorge: Exterminator

At this point, Jacky and I are feeling pretty good about being stuck up front as we're setting up for the next series of rapids. Of course, that's when the trouble starts... On one of the next rapids, the boat zigged in such a way that Jacky was flung from his position. In a stroke of good luck, the direction he was flung to the other side of the boat. To my side of the boat, that is to say, he was thrown directly into my head.

I felt the boat take an unexpected twist, but I was concentrating on what was coming ahead (and probably paddling). I don't think I saw Jacky come across the boat, I recall seeing a bit of white coming in fast, then CRACK something hard hit the left side of my head/face. I see a body drop in the front section of the boat, limbs askew (not secured to anything). I drop down and grab the life jacket and yell, "I've got you." At this point, I have no idea who this is (I think the hit was a little harder than I'd like to admit ;-) ), but we're still going through rapids, and I don't want to lose anyone over the side.

After a moment or two, Jacky was able to secure himself and we both returned to our positions and resumed paddling out of the rapids. I'd be surprised if the whole indecent took more than 3 seconds.

A little while later we took shelter in an eddy, to rest, wait for the other rafts, and discuss our plan of attack on The Cribworks. But for me, this was time that I could adjust my shades, which had become dislodged due to cranial impact. Slight plug here. Kudoes to Bolle, their shades remained secure to my face throughout the whole day, a direct impact being the only thing that slightly dislodged them (they were still on my face, just diagonal).

Breather had, Tony began the Cribworks run briefing. In contrast to the Exterminator (a "Power through it rapid"), the Cribworks was technical. This meant commands could come fast and short, ahead, right back, all back, all ahead, you may get only one stroke in before having to change it up. Near the end of the run, there is a "hole" that you can surf. In other words, you can slot your raft so you surf, play in this hole. Similar to what we had done at the beginning of the day at the falls. Of course, there is a "minor" catch, slotting into this hole is not trivial. As Tony repeatedly said, "I don't what's going to happen..." The way he explained it, one of three things could happen. One: we do everything perfectly and get some choice surfing. Righteous! Two: we mess up our entry and bop out the other side, no surfing for you :-( Three: we hit the entry correct, but mess up setting up the surf and the raft flips. Of course, the final option is we do everything right and the water changes quicker than we can react and flips us. He drummed it into us, that there was a very good chance we were going to flip and a very small chance we were going to do this right.

Given the fact we (and one other boat) were going to attempt to surf, the two remaining boats went ahead, to catch anyone thrown overboard. Once they had cleared, we entered The Cribworks.

The Cribworks Assault

In a nutshell, the 'works consists of three major parts, the later of which being where we were going to attempt to surf. The added difficulty being, in order to surf it "properly" we needed to make our entry sideways.

We nailed the first two parts, even doing a full 360 at one part, and nailed the entry into the last part. Perfect slotting. We hit the drop and rode up the side, almost coming out (option 2), sliding back in ( option 1), then the water (option 4), tried to pull us back out again ultimately pulling us back in (option 3). As the raft approached 90 degrees, I got launched across the boat, either over Jacky or directly into him (I sure don't recall which). Either way, the boat flipped, and we all crashed into the water, into the later part of The Cribworks.

Again, I don't recall taking a large breath before going in, nor do I recall the initial hit of the water. What I recall vividly was starting to float up and having the water above me filled with bodies. No panic yet. Then feeling myself near the surface... ah, sweet oxygen, but wait... thunk... the boat...thunk....I'm under the boat.... thunk... where is the edge of the boat.... thunk....WHERE....splash....under the boat, bad, deep breath back in the water swim....surface...ah unfettered oxy....spash...frak forgot to wait before breathing, spit, no inhalation no problem.... crash, bump, scrape go the rocks...surface...Where am I, got to get to the left (one thing mentioned at the Cribworks briefing).... swim... how do you swim efficiently with a paddle... hey there's Ryan, he doesn't look happy... where is his helmet...

In a nutshell, that's my brain during this crisis. At this point my arms were toast, a combination of oxygen deprivation and paddle exertion (I don't think I swam very hard at this point), so I figured I'd swim over to Ryan by flipping on my back and kicking torpedo style towards him. Beyond him was a boat that we were drift towards so I didn't see any imminent danger, we had cleared the rapid and were in a brief calm area. After rolling over, not 5 or so feet behind me I see Ryan's helmet bobbing. That is worth an exertion to recover. Of course after picking up his helmet, now I really can't swim. I have a paddle in one hand and a helmet in the other. Ryan's being picked up by the boat now and they are telling me to swim over.

When I get to the edge, I think I really annoyed my "rescuer." Instead of being lifted out I kept handling him stuff to take in, my paddle, Ryan's helmet... I was holding on to the edge of the boat, on the left side, the water was calm, I didn't see any reason for panic or rush.

Now this boat was overloaded, so everyone had to paddle to ensure our safe passage to an eddy where we could regroup and swap passengers. The last one in, I was on the front again, more so then before because now there wasn't space to tuck one of my feet in. No worries (read:no brains). I paddled and paddled and paddled and we were there. This whole time I was marveling at how much my body was complaining about oxygen deprivation. Even now, I don't recall anytime where I felt I REALLY needed to breathe (that moment of panic), but my cardiovascular system seemed to tell a different tale.

When we could regroup, the group was none the worse for wear. A few more bruises, a few scrapes but no serious injuries. We had a few miles to take our helmets off and take it easy. A well deserved breather.

We had returned to our pre-tip positions, so Jacky and I were on the front again and as the group relates our flip experiences, sans helmets, Jacky and I are eyeballing approaching rapids. At a certain point, we steal a glance and agree to put our helmets on. Soon after, as the rapids get closer, the rest of the boat begins to the the same, save Ryan and Tony. Closer.... Closer.... Closer... and then we're on them!

And they are nothing. Class 1s. A little bobbing and we're through, to which Tony says, "Whew, that was something! Aren't you glad you put your helmets on for those class 1s?"

The last rapid of the day was Amberjack. Our plan was to once again try and surf this one. Unfortunately we seriously messed up our approach and wound up "just" going over (which was a bit of fun on its own) instead of getting our surfing in.

Without a doubt that was the most disappointing part of the trip. After messing up our last setup, there are no more rapids to play with all you have left is the take out. Of course, there was a place for cliff diving or you could slid down the last rapid sans boat ("body rapids", coining a new phrase here). Neither of which interested our boat, possibly because we had forcibly experienced a tad of the later and the former held no comparative Adrenalin rush.


All told, an awesome trip. I, and everyone we rafted with, strongly recommend rafting with Penobscot Adventures. Each guide tailored the experience to the level of risk his boat was willing to try. For us and a boat of more seasoned rafters, that was closer to the extreme side. For the other two boats, one of which included a couple celebrating their 50th wedding anniversary, not so much. Everyone did the same rapids, some just took more difficult paths to accomplish the same goal.

All in all, a great time.

The Gang, on land, sans Tony.

Ride Report: Mass Pike Bike - Day 4

17 Aug 2008.

The last day. I woke up extraordinarily early (~4am) and by 5:30am nearly the whole camp was awake and back starting to pack up.

So, on the fourth and final start of the tour our group was the first to leave camp, and continuing our tradition of increasing our numbers we were joined by two new riders, Michelle and Karin. Karin and Michelle had opted for the 50 mile routes each day, after Karin had a fall on the first day (bruising her knee pretty badly).

In short order, Michelle established herself as an extraordinarily strong rider, dominating every climb. At the start of one of the longer climbs she had shifted to her smallest gear, early and was starting to power the bike (out of the pedals and forcing it up). In contrast, I still had 4 gears to go before I was in the same position. When she started powering up the hill, we were together but as the climb continued and I started to downshift she just maintained the same pace until the top. Impressive.

Like Day 3, the views and paths on Day 4 were beautiful. Farms, mountains, vistas. Massachusetts at its best.

Somewhere, early on, we hit the first serious climb. A nasty steep (and somewhat long) hill, Arnie and Michelle went off the front, with me barely keeping them in range (read 4 or so bike lengths). After a few false summits we finally arrived at the top, next to a little babbling brook. On an aside, riding in groups is fun. Everyone talks and jokes, that is until a serious climb is had. Then everything goes quiet as the riders become introspective, trying to will the energy to complete the climb. At the top, of course, the chatter returns.

The real climb came a few miles later. A smaller grade, but far far longer, this hill put me in a spot of bother. Steep climbs are my specialty, that's what most of my training is on. Long sustained low grade (~8+%) are not. Either way, we all managed. No doubt helped by the fact we all knew there were only two serious hills on the day and everything else would be cake.

We turn off the road and begin a series of descents. We all knew the cue sheet warned us a five mile descent was soon, so we assumed the street we were on was that descent. The descent was fast, and a little more rolling than we would have liked. When we reached the end, Michelle commented she was disappointed in the "5 mile descent," she figured it would be less rolling. That is when I re-read the cue sheet. We were about the START the five mile descent. The previous road's descents were just an appetizer.

The cue sheet was right to warn us about the descent. It was fast, long, and winding. There's not much to say about it, the road was in good shape so we could fly with little fear. On the other side of the road were cyclists climbing this monster as we screamed down. Kudos to them and thank the route planners for not having us climb it.

Soon after the descent we came upon the rest stop. Because we had left early, we passed before the first stop was setup (this being the second). At the stop was the "A-team," hanging out and enjoying the food and shade.

In a stroke of genus the route planners placed the water stop next to Cushman Market in North Amherst. Great place, I recommend the Lox.

Replenished we carried on. At one point, pacelining our way through the flatter North Amherst roads. One anecdote. When traveling in packs, lead cyclists call out things for everyone else to watch out for (Cars ahead, hole, dirt, glass, etc.), these warnings are then carried down the line to make sure everyone is aware of the danger. As we pacelined through the North Amherst farms, the lead rider (Karin) called out "Cows Left," to which everyone Moo-ed!

As we closed in on the lunch meeting place, we happened to notice a fellow tour rider on the side of the road. We stopped to render assistance, but it turned out she had stopped to enjoy the view:

The Connecticut River, Hadley, MA

We arrived at the lunch stop and were served our choice of delicious sandwiches (I wish I knew from where). The names were whimsical and local in flavor, and the flavor combinations were divine.

The ride nearly over, there was only one thing left to do. Ride as a group down the Bike Path, into Northampton, down Main St, onto another bike path and end at Look Park.

Some of us were nervous about this portion of the ride. 82 riders of various speeds and abilities could mean accidents. Obviously everyone was thinking, get to the front to be ahead of the accident. We started rather abruptly, and the group, 82 riders strong, quickly overwhelmed the bike path. We restricted ourselves to on half of the lanes, but that meant if we passed someone they were engulfed for what must have seemed like an eternity.

What was "worse," as far as we were concerned, was everyone was wearing their tour t-shirt. Meaning, jerseys couldn't be use to differentiate riders. It took time to figure out who was ahead/behind you.

We arrived at the last rally point (before the Main st ride) and took over a parking lot. I positioned myself in the shade, close to the road, figuring this would easily put me near the front. The rest of our riding group (Team AZ) joined up here as well. The plan was to head out in mass, take one of the lanes, lead riders would stop for red lights, but once the pack started moving we would not stop (i.e. if the light goes yellow/red in the middle of the peloton we would not stop). Lead riders would pull off the front and perform rudimentary traffic control.

These instructions were relayed to everyone before we started the mass ride; however a modification needed to be relayed: We would pull over for Emergency Vehicles. The ride leader related that information to us and turned to confirm everyone heard him. However riders were chatting amongst themselves, seemingly ignorant of the message. I hollered, "Did everyone catch that?" Snap, everyone's head turns in my direction and some people say, "Hear what?" or "No!" I related, verbatim, what the leader had said then paused, waiting for some confirmation from the group. No confirmation received, I said something like "Go it" and gave everyone a thumbs up, to which the whole group responded in kind, "Yup!"

Message relayed, we headed out. The mass ride went as one would expect, save the local rider who was to lead us flatted within 200ft of the parking lot. The city of Northampton did not seem to surprised, or bothered by our presence. Taking is in stride. In no time we arrived at the end of our ride, Look park. For us 65 milers, 230 miles from our start.

We congratulated each other, exchanged email and business cards with those not returning to Sudbury. Then loaded our bikes and boarded the buses home.

Distance:  42.18 miles
Climbing:   ~2700 ft
Ave Speed: 12.2 mph
Max Speed: 37.0 mph
Time: 3 hours 26 minutes 55 seconds

Ride Report: D2R2

23 Aug 2008.

Short version: I abandoned the race after 10 or so miles.

The whole week I had adjusted my sleep schedule in preparation for the 6am start. The organizers wanted us to there 45 minutes before the start (5:15), and it takes me 45 minutes to get there (4:30 departure time) which means I need to get up by 4am in order to make sure I leave by 4:30.

Last night I packed my bags, put everything out so I wouldn't forget anything, and went to sleep.

This morning, everything went according to plan. I didn't forget anything and arrived on site just after 5:10. Massive Kudos to the organizers, I was worried about finding where to park, but out in the road they had put flag men with flashlights to direct cars into the parking field. Great Idea.

Registered, got my Brevet card, consumed some of their breakfast offerings, and returned to my car to change and setup my bike.

This whole week I had been on the fence over which tires to run, my commuter tires or my cyclocross tires. I even brought both tires to the race, in case I changed my mind on the day of. I made the decision here to run with the commuter tires. A friend who was also ridding had said they'd be fine and looking at the other riders tires I saw similar tread patterns.

Unlike Day 1 of the Mass Pike Bike Tour, when we were given the ok to go the peloton took off at a nice leisurely pace. The group stayed together until we got to the first hill, which I must admit was a bit more troubling that one would hope. No real issues climbing it, more navigating it. Trying to pick a line and gear taking the other riders in consideration is never an easy task. I wound up using a higher gear than I wanted, but it prevented me from touching wheels with the guy in front of me (and we can real close at points).

The route then briefly becomes a dirt road, which gives everyone an idea of what the day will bring. It is here I quickly realize, I should have followed my gut and run with the cyclocross tires. The dirt is moist and is quickly filling up the tread in my tires making them very slick. Not good.

Strangely this dirt road is relatively short and soon a nice asphalt road returns. And our second "serious" hill. The hill looks fairly easy, I've done worse. I shift and pop the chain jumps off the front rings. It's worth noting this has never happened before. A quick road side repair as the group speeds by and greasy hands and all I am on my way. (Tip for the future: If you have to grab the chain, turn your trash bag (you do carry a trash bag for your gel wrappers, right?) inside out and use it as a glove.)

The ride continues and again we turn onto a dirt road. This one is more densely packed so it seems to be less problematic. Note the word "seems." The first hill we encounter has loose sand, which my back wheel just slides through. Unable to put power down, I am forced to walk up the hill (until it gets hard enough to remount). It is worth noting, for my own ego. I am not the only rider walking at this point.

I remount and at some point in the next half mile encounter a similar problem (on the flat), where the back wheel just slides massively to the right. Unfortunately this time I am unable to unclip quick enough and I go down. Hard enough to tear my jersey and scrape by elbow pretty badly. Not hard enough to to any real damage.

At this point I am a bit behind, such that I can't see the pack anymore. I knew that was going to happen eventually, so I'm not to worried. I continue and things are working much better. We have a nice little down hill and some flat. All in all nice ride. Passing a jeep trail to my right, I think wonder if that's where I should turn off and reach back for my cue sheet... only to grab air.

This is bad. I don't stand a chance without the cue sheet, and what's worse, my brevet card, that which I get signed to verify I did the route, is in the same bag as the cue sheet (Another Tip for ya'll: Don't do that).

I double back. I must have lost it on one of the falls. To abbreviate the 30 minute search, I couldn't find it. I went over the area 3 times, no luck.

Now, if this was all that happened. I would have just returned to the start, got new paperwork, and restarted the ride. Unfortunately, during the doubling back (and once on the ride before), my front derailleur was giving me grief. Early on it was binding up the chain, bringing it to a full stop, then after no work on my part releasing it. That behavior continued and in addition now it refused to shift out of first (small front cog).

Now, let me say, for a month or so I have been having minor issues with my front derailleur, and I planned on bringing the bike in for service after D2R2. Looks like I should have done that this week instead of next.

So that's the ride report. This is the first event of any kind (cycling, running, etc.) that I've ever had to abandon. So you can imagine how happy about that I am. Needless to say, I will be back. Right now, I'm hoping next year (assuming my schedule permits it). We'll just have to wait and see.

D2R2: DNF

D2R2: DNF