15 Aug 2008.
Thursday ended with group meetings. One of the main points of those conversations was the probability of rain on Friday (Day 2). Weather.com, Yahoo, and the local guys predicted a 70% chance of rain all day; refusing to localize it in the morning, afternoon, or evening.
This put everyone in a bit of a sour mood and most opted to head to sleep at that point, hoping to get an early start on day 2.
A departure from norm, breakfast was to be served at a local church. By the time I finished packing, setting my bike up, and helping my new ride mates pack we were among the last left at the campsite.
We headed out, no one double checking the directions we have been given the night before (which were, as it turned out, also written on the announcement white board). Since both Donna and Sheryl ("Team Arizona" on day 1), had lived in Whitinsville we proceeded to visit every church in the town trying to find the right one. Fortunately all 5 were within a few blocks of each other and it was a nice day for a walk. Eventually (with a little help from some returning from breakfast), we found the right church. Just one block outside our walking circle.
Once we started the ride, I assumed group leader duties. Pointing out obstacles in the road, setting pace, and generally making sure we stayed on track. The primary reason I assumed this job was because I had ridden the first third of the days course and new it without following the cue sheet.
Having ridden it I could warn of upcoming hill problems. Steep climb here, long climb there, etc. In no time we made it to Purgatory Chasm, the first major climb of the day.
Purgatory Road can be broken into 3 or 4 climbs. The first climb ends at the Purgatory Chasm, which we, of course photographed.
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| Donna leaving the sign after Sheryl recorded the moment. |
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| Proof I was there or A statement on myself. |
We arrived at the Chasm just as the 50 mile group's SAG vehicle (driven by Steve, a day 1 A-team member). Steve was nice enough to point the way to the chasm (in case we missed it).
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| Steve pointing the way to the Chasm |
Before you read that incorrectly, Steve has a wonderful sense of humor and delighted in tossing humorous jabs at Donna, myself, and (presumably) anyone else who would get a laugh out of it.
So after taking our pictures and chatting for a while, we continued the climb. As would be the pattern for most of the day I would take the early lead on climbs then Donna would pass me about halfway up and slowly pull away until the summit. Sheryl, not a fan of hills, would sit back, crank up the tunes, and slowly spin her way to the top. That said, unlike nearly everyone else on the ride, Sheryl was the only person I saw who preferred to motor on after a long climb, instead of stopping. A testament to her strength.
At this point, we hadn't gelled as a group yet, it was me riding with them. There is a certain camaraderie that is born from shared suffering, and we hadn't gotten there yet.
After Purgatory, we were cruising and started picking off other riders, the culmination of which was catching up with the "B-Group," who had stopped at a corner store. They passed us in short order after that; but stopped again at a Dunkin Donuts before entering Douglas State Forest.
The would not catch us until around mile 25, when we began the real climb in the forest. As usual on this day, I had started strong, than petered out and Donna zipped ahead. When she was 100 or so feet ahead, the first of the B-team riders passed me on their way to the summit. When the second rider passed her, she decided to show them up, and without any clear exertion of effort, just motored passed them all the way to the summit and started her descent.
For the next 10 or so miles both teams stayed together with me setting tempo. I could give you all kinds of reasons why I always ended up setting the pace on these things, but the number one reason was most other leaders weren't sufficiently warning the pack of road hazards (broken pavement, etc.). From the front I could control the pace (to keep me happy and make sure we don't drop anyone), and give early warning to others.
This noble mindset paid off many times on this weekend, but the first real test being when the combined groups pulled off 16 onto Minebrook Rd in Webster, MA. The road was in extremely poor shape. The cue sheet had warned us, but nothing prepared us for what we saw. The road WAS pitted badly, but more dangerously the hills had slid filling the road with slippery sand.
The second I saw this, without even a second though, I launched myself off the front to scout for the group. I knew my bike could handle anything this road wanted to throw at it, and I knew I could handle my bike in the sand. I didn't know how it was going to impact the group, so I figured I'd give them as much warning as possible. And that's exactly what I did. I stayed 50 to 100ft ahead pointing of holes, warning of sand, hollering where it was clear, and where there were no options.
Be it a testament to my early warnings, or the group's luck, we managed to traverse the street without incident and arrived together at the check point.
It is worth noting, that pack members commented after on my pointing technique. If there was something on the left, I'd use my left hand to point it out. On the right, my right hand. On both sides, I'd use both hands. A technique I can't recommend, and I only used "emergencies" when I was threading extremely bad holes.
After the water stop, a lady in a Subaru paced beside us to ask whether we a team or a tour (and if so which/what). There is not much more to the encounter, obviously I provided the requested information, what I enjoyed was it felt very TDFie. I was leading a small breakaway and the team car pulls up to relate new orders, or whatever. At least that's how I saw it. Might have been the dehydration.
At one point, we were pacing along a nice flat and Donna calls for me to pull over. She might have said why, but I didn't make it out. I figured they wanted a break or snack or something. However, it turns out, they wanted to stop at a package store to pick up some Vodka for the evening's festivities. She asked the cashier if it was ok to return the bottle empty after taking it outside. The cashier assured her that was fine, but walked out to see what she had planned. I suspect he was pleased when he saw her only change it's traveling container from Vodka bottle to two cycling water bottles.
The ride was going swimmingly, no major issues, clear day, life was good; until we missed a turn on the cue sheet.
At the turn, reading the cue, I knew we were going off sheet. The mileage was right, the instruction was consistent with the terrain, the only thing that was wrong was I couldn't find the "brick building" the notes mentioned.
So we pushed on until we reached the next mile marker for a cue and the stop sign wasn't there. It was then we figured out what I had missed the turn. So we discussed the options: (1) turn around and redo the horrible rolling hills we had just done, (2) forge on.
Even though we didn't want to ride on Rt.20, which was our last hope to rejoin, we vowed "onward ever, backward never." Our hope was we could cut over on one of the cross streets. That was not the case. Fortunately we only had a breakdown lane and only had to go two blocks over to make the right turn. After that, it was a nice long climb to a picturesque farm, before the descents that ultimately ended in Wells State Park.
So, a day with 70% chance of rain turned out pretty nice. No rain during the ride, time to mill around, pick a camp site, setup your tent... life was good. Then walking to the showers, I felt a drop of moisture, then another and another. By the time I reached the showers it was down pouring. The rain's intensity would vary, but would not stop until sometime in the night (~3am).
Despite that, we all still congregated at the pavilion, where dinner was to be served, and chatted, laughed, some people even played UNO. Nearly the whole group was there when dinner arrived. Hot dogs, Hamburgers, extraordinarily good steak, and some sides I didn't care for as much (but those that did LOVED them). One of the big hits was this Greek couscous dish; for me the front taste was unpalatable, but the olive based rear taste was excellent.
Despite plans to have a whole campfire motif going, the vast majority returned to their tents after dinner to wait the storm out. That was at 730pm or so. Needless to say, everyone retired early that night.
Distance: 62.44 miles
Climbing: ~4000 ft
Ave Speed: 12.6
Max Speed: 37.0 mph
Time: 4 hours 57 minutes 02 seconds