Ride Report: Mass Pike Bike - Day 3

16 Aug 2008.
All light any time I woke up, I listened, hoping to hear that the rain stopped. Unfortunately, I just continuously heard rain. By 5:30am, I couldn't lay in the tent anymore, I had to start getting ready for the day.

I steeled myself, dressed in my rain gear, and unzipped the tent to find no rain. The rain noise that I had heard continuously was nothing other than the water falling off the leaves of the trees in the park. The sky was still overcast, but some blue was starting to shine in. The day was looking up.

The morning meeting (after breakfast) was interesting. Each morning, as I have indicated, each distance would gather together and go over cue notes, warnings, eatery tips, etc. This morning when the distance leaders broke announced their locations only two were populated. The 65 and the 30. There were no 50 riders. The prevailing theory, at least among the 65ers, is there are three types of people who ride the 50 mile: (1) Those that want to do the 50, (2) those that are scared to do the 65 (and over the course of the tour discover their strength and move up to 65), and (3) those that should be riding the 35 (who by day 3 have moved down).

By the end of the meeting, we (Myself, Donna, and Sheryl) had convinced Arnie (whom you may recall from Day 1) to join our group. Day 1's pace had taken its toll on Arnie, who along with another "A-team" member, had opted to ride 50 miles on Day 2. Our promise of an easy pace and fun riding partners was enough to convince him to rejoin the 65ers.

Ride wise, the day started out great. Direction wise, not so much. The cue sheet was a tad unclear about one of the turns (and, of course, the road didn't have a sign), so we wound up going the wrong way, and ended up in Spencer State Park (a very nice picturesque park). As we crossed the boundary of the park, I called for us to stop and consult the directions and map. Together Arnie, Sheryl, and myself formulated a plan. We would not back track, and instead tackle the challenging hill at the entrance of the state park, join route 31, and ultimately rejoin the route. Which we did without indecent, although it is worth noting the road surface of rt 31 is horrible (as it approaches 9).

After that slight detour, the ride was pretty and uneventful. The hills were long, but not overpowering. Donna wasn't as dominant on these hills as she was the previous day; but Arnie made up for it, easily powering away on each hill, and sometimes going back down to encourage others.

One highlight of the ride was cresting a hill in the center of some small town and coming upon a wedding.

Arnie and Donna looking on as the wedding commences

We watched the procession in silence, so as not to disturb the ceremony. We left when the officiator began to speak. The location was very nice, although the pink, white, and black bridesmaid dresses not so much.

Not much farther along, we crested another steep hill into yet another small town's common and meet with the "B-team" for lunch.

The Country Store had a special on Turkey wraps

The groups mingle after enjoying lunch

After lunch, the Bs left first, we rolled our bikes to take off soon after them. As we stood next to the Harley visible in the first picture, Donna complimented the owner (who was sitting next to it with his daughter) on the bike. Sheryl clipped in her right foot and took off. I, who ordinarily clip left first, thought, "hey that's a good idea, then if I fall I'll fall away from the Harley," and clipped in with my right foot and proceeded to fall right over onto my right side. Missing hitting my head on the Harley by inches. My knee was skinned pretty bad, my ego far worse as it was a stupid accident. On the bright side, I found a nickel.

Fortunately, I had a first aid kit packed in my panniers. So a little road site first aid (away from the Harley) was in order. Unfortunately my kit didn't have tape, so I couldn't wrap the wound like I really wanted to, instead I had to put one of the largest band aids and hope for the best.

Riding with a skinned knee wasn't too enjoyable. I'll spare ya'll the gritty details, but suffice it to say I don't recommend it.

As we made our way through the farms around Quabbin, we could see a large storm cloud heading our way. Unusual for New England, it was just one cloud, so we hoped we would miss it.

We didn't.

A light drizzle started and convinced us to put on our rain gear. As we streamed into town, we could see droves of people walking towards us on the other side of the road. Turns out they were fleeing the town's fair. We knew we had a checkpoint around here somewhere, so we navigated these tight roads. Tight normally, even tighter with cars parked on the sides.

As we arrived at the stop, the rain picked up, enough to convince Donna to put on her real rain gear (she had two pieces of rain gear, a basic light rain jacket, and a medium/heavy rain one). We headed off again, and not 5 minutes later the rain stopped completely. Total rain time: under 20 minutes.

The rest of the ride was relatively uneventful, if tiring. At one point we saw a group of randonneurs on their 350km ride heading in the opposite direction. We crossed a wonderfully picturesque wooden bridge and were rewarded with a horribly steep (but car free) climb. We saw two pacifiers tossed to the side of the road within 100 feet of each other. We had a Pan Mass rider (in a car) pull over to help us (he thought we were lost when we were just flipping our cue sheets, but the thought is appreciated).

By the end of the ride we were tired and the last road seemed to go on forever. Finally a sign warning of children and of the presence of a school meant our ride was at an end.

The sky appeared to be threatening rain, however when all things were said and done (camp was set up and showers taken) this is what we saw:

Rain in the distance, missing the campsite

...And clear skies for the night

Dinner was served in a Hall 0.5 miles away and the whole group (all 82 of us) walked there. The food, Northern Italian, was wonderful. Potatoes, Pasta, Divine Pork, steamed veg, salad, and desert. Delicious.

Some people were heading to a bar after dinner, but that didn't feel like our scene. Instead we returned to camp and being to nice a night setup our own make shift party. We setup incense to keep the mosquitoes at bay (it worked!), mixed our own cocktails (Vodka and Red Gatorade), and listened to the tones (thanks to Arnie's iPod speakers). In a short while we were joined by more and more people, each bringing a different offering (beer, wine, etc.). At our peak there were ten or so of us.

Obviously, we were a bit rambunctious and as 10pm approached we were chided a couple times before we finally acquiesced, cleaned up, and went to bed.

The stories and the company were great, making our "last day" party one of the more memorable moments of the ride.

Distance:  68.5 miles
Climbing:   ~5200 ft
Ave Speed: 11.9 mph
Max Speed: 36.1 mph
Time: 5 hours 44 minutes 56 seconds

Ride Report: Mass Pike Bike - Day 2

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.

Donna leaving the sign after Sheryl recorded the moment.

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).

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

Ride Report: Mass Pike Bike - Day 1

14 Aug 2008.
I arrived at the departure location just before 7am to a very nearly empty parking lot. In a short amount of time, people started filling the lot (primarily the support staff at first). Everyone was required to signed in, gave emergency contact information, and receive their cue sheets, as well as a map of each day's route. Also available were basic breakfast fixings, such as donuts, bagels, bread, peanut butter, and fresh fruit.

0740 - Unpacking cars under a clear sky

After some milling around, waiting for people to arrive, unpack, socialize, etc. everyone was welcomed to the ride and we were given basic instructions (use "car up," "car back" for approaching cars, "passing left" when passing a slower cyclist, etc) and then broken up into our respective distances.

The 30 & 50 mile riders would have official group leaders and SAG support, whereas the 65 riders would only have SAG support. (The thought being most longer distance riders, read more experienced, don't want to be tethered by a group leader). There was one complaint about this decision (a 65 who would have proffered a group leader), and the organizers acknowledged it and commented they were looking into offering that as on option next year (2008 was the 2nd year this ride had been run).

In the 65 miler meeting, our SAG support driver, Doug, went over the cue sheet and added some last minute touches (this is your 1st left, your water stop is here, etc.). He also reiterated feedback, both positive and negative was extremely desired.

There were no plans for a mass exodus, so when the first group assembled I jumped right on their wheels. Furthermore, on of the organizers was going to be in this group. I assumed I wouldn't have to worry with my cue sheet, just sit back and enjoy the ride.

Two hundred feet into the ride, I knew I was going to be in trouble. I was riding my trusty '05 Bianchi Volpe with full fenders, rack, and panniers (read: not a light/fast bike). Needless to say, going 24+mph on the flat was not something I was going to be able to do for very long.

The second problem, which would show up later, was the staff member in our group hadn't put together the 65 mile ride, he had put together the 50. Meaning he didn't know the route any better than us. Combine this with the fact that the pace setters ride in that area, meant they thought they knew better than the cue sheet.

That's not to say the sheets were perfect, far from it. Cue sheets in Massachusetts are always hampered by the fact that every street does not have a sign, and names change on straightaways.

So we blaze out of the school parking lot in a fast paceline and three miles later, double back to rejoin the tour, after turning right when we should have turned left.

After that blazing start we settled into a speed somewhere in the 18-22mph range. Still outside my comfort zone, but far closer. At one quick light, we awarded sprinters points to whomever could reach a construction sign first (6pts - Arnie, 4pts - Fred, 2pts - Jack). 5 miles or so after that sprinting fun, I realized I was going to be in real trouble soon.

There was a short steep hill and everyone in the group down shifted to spin up the hill. I don't like spinning, so I picked a large gear and powered up the hill and right into a massive Oxygen deficit, I simply could not get enough O2 into my lungs. Fortunately steady breathing and an easing back of the pace fixed that problem for me, the gap I had built up was sufficient for me to return to form.

Needless to say, when we hit the serious climbs around mile 30, I was dropped pretty quickly, having expended far to much energy early on. By this point my average speed was 18.8 mph. At the finish it would be 13.0 (this due in part to the first half of the rides numbers being accidentally wiped out in a cyclecomputer mishap).

Fundamentally there were three groups of 65 milers on day 1. The self proclaimed "A-team," which I was struggling to ride with, consisting of 6 strong riders and me. The so called "B-team" consisting of a larger group of riders, not as fast, but much more consistent (we passed them 3 or 4 times that first day). And finally Team Arizona consisting of two ladies wearing AZ jerseys (more on them later).

At one point passing the "B-team," there was an acceleration I just could not keep up with, so I paced the "B-team" through some light climbs and flats before shuffled to the back on the harder climbs. Until eventually, I was shuffled right off the back.

Before you get the wrong idea, every group I've mentioned would wait up for slower members; however at some point you have to right the stragglers off. And when it starts to rain, that window of time becomes infinitely small.

Ya, It rained. Big time.

Coming into Mendon, the skies were threatening, so much so I took my rain gear out, and put my cue sheet in a plastic bag. Lucky timing too, as the skies opened up soon after. Thunder, lightening, the works.

And it is at this point that I am dropped for the last time. I solo navigated to the Whitinsville camp just in time for the rain to stop. Which is perfect tent pitching weather.

All in all a good ride, very tiring. All my training to date had been on distance, not on speed so asking my body to start out that fast was going to have consequences, which it did, I slowed down.

I knew after arriving at camp that I wasn't going to be going with that group again. I figured I'd join the B-team, since their pace seemed closer to my training paces I figured I'd be ok. But, it was a chance meeting at dinner that changed those plans.

I was standing behind one of the members of team AZ as she was relating a story to the person in front of her. I don't recall the details, but I believe she was relating how she was stopping and taking pictures while other groups were just motoring on. I joined in the conversation, echoing that sentiment. Ultimately, we decided to team up on the next day.

A word on the food, before I end this massive post. Awesome. Arnie, whom you may recall from the A-team green jersey competition, has ridden many similar tours and said, without doubt, the food on this tour was the best. This day it was salad fixings, mac & cheese, cole slaw, corn bread, beans and rice, and massive BBQ. Pulled pork, pulled chicken, and ribs galore. Tre bein

Distance:  64.6 miles
Climbing:   2777 ft
Ave Speed: 18.8 / 13.0
Max Speed: ? / 35.8 mph
Time: ?

Cycle-computer reset mid-trip