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July 21, 2011September 5, 2020

Goodbye Mountains

MONTPELLIER, FRANCE

It was cold and rainy at the Col du Lautaret which is the last Col before Galibier. I knew my options were to either climb Galibier in absolutely miserable weather without knowing if more snow was falling like yesterday, or to go over to Italy and ride the climb to Sestriere and watch the Tour go by. So I left.

I figured I didn’t really need to climb the highest finishing climb in the Tour de France (2645 m, 8678 ft) in these conditions. Besides, I have climbed America’s highest paved road, Mt. Evans, Colorado (4300 m, 14,000 ft). Take that, France!


I borrowed a spoke tool from Trek Travel on the Tourmalet and returned it here

I got so chilled yesterday I didn’t want to risk doing it again, especially with a 5-hour drive ahead of me. On Sunday, 200 cyclists had to be rescued off Galibier when the snows blew in and they weren’t prepared. I left Lautaret in the cold rain and first drove down towards Briançon and saw many cyclists headed up the mountain.

Partway down the mountain I abandoned the idea of watching this stage of the Tour in Italy. I knew traffic coming back through Briançon would be a nightmare and I was just too tired to stay that late. Garmin’s ETA was never close to reality in the Alps because the roads are not conducive to traveling 90 kmh which is what Garmin uses to calculate time.

If I could do it over I would have stayed one more night in the Alps (tonight) then used tomorrow as an all-day drive day (7-8 hours). Or paid more for a connecting flight from Grenoble instead of returning from Toulouse.

When I turned around to head back to Montpellier I went back up the mountain. I saw many of the same cyclists I passed headed back down. I think they realized how nasty the conditions would be.

On the way back to Bourg d’Osians I saw and talked with one of the riders from Evolution Cycling Club in Reston. Seems they had a group of six riders here this week.

Turtle. I remember him from a group ride two years ago.

Near Grenoble I saw a man fixing a flat (bike) in the rain. I did a U-turn and pulled up with a floor pump. He knew no English but gestures said it all. He was happy to have someone stop with a real pump.


Just helped this Frenchman by lending him my floor pump

So I left the Alps behind today and am now on the Mediterranean coast of France in Montpellier. I am staying in a 15th century building. A Best Western.

Actually, my room was part of the old butcher shop.


This entrance is just to the right of the main entrance to the hotel

I went for an afternoon ride trying to find the sea but couldn’t. How big is it anyway if I can’t find it?

I’m sure close but don’t know the connecting roads

On the map it appears that I was close but so far away. It looks like only a highway which does not permit bikes, crosses over to the beaches. I’m probably wrong.

Montpellier is the fifth largest city in France. Not sure why I wanted to come to a city. With tram construction and a traffic pattern that predates city blocks, it is pretty difficult to navigate. It gave both my car Garmin and my bike Garmin fits trying to route me to my hotel. But it is a nice city.

Interesting grass in the trolley tracks

Reflecting, I climbed the Tourmalet, to the summit this year, and from both sides as I went down to the point I had come up from the other side last year. I got chased by the Devil. Twice. And cows. And llamas. I climbed Mont Ventoux in 50 mph winds at the summit. And I climbed Alpe d’Huez. That’s a pretty complete week.

Last year when I signed up for the Trek Travel tour of France I was glad to bike Pla d’Adet, Aspin, Tourmalet, Azet, and Peyresourde. But I always felt that I haven’t been to France until I biked up Alpe d’Huez. Now I have.

This has been a great trip although I have ridden far less than I planned as I have driven far more than I planned. But the great climbs made it worth it even if I left one on the table. It can stay there.

July 17, 2011July 15, 2024

Mont Ventoux

BÉDOIN, FRANCE

I met two guys from West Chester, Pa. (near Philadelphia) in Bédoin, which is the little village before the base of the climb. We agreed to ride together until James and Brian decided that I (1) had already ridden too many climbs this trip, (2) was suffering from sleeping in the car last night and having no breakfast*, and (3) was much older than them. They had just arrived and were looking to follow the Tour de France. Too bad they didn’t wait for me because I had lots of useful tips. Philly fans.

So I started the climb on my own. It started raining part way up. Still, I was in short sleeves until I pulled on my vest with about 10km to go.

The lower wooded section is beautiful. Climbing higher I saw few riders but did pass one from Denmark. His wife was with him for support. She would pass, go ahead 200-300 meters, and then wait until he passed her. And then she would drive ahead.

Visibility near the top dropped to 10 meters. On the last turn to the summit, I was hit by 50 mph (80 kmh) winds which ripped my glasses right off my face. Goodbye glasses. The wind blew me across the road but I stayed upright, worried only about a descending car. Luckily there were none. It was empty up there.

It was only about 50 meters more to the summit. I stayed at the summit no more than 2-3 minutes. I think severe hypothermia would probably set in by spending no more than an hour there. It was nasty on top. The temperature was probably 40 F (5 C) and the winds seemed to be sustained at about 50 mph.

I was content to take a picture of the summit sign but three women from Germany drove up as I was getting ready to leave and offered to take my picture. Thus I have photographic evidence of being there.

I was trying to lift my bike over my head but the winds were too strong

As I had climbed I had passed the memorial to Tom Simpson just a couple hundred meters from the top. I did not want to stop and lose momentum so I kept going. This memorial is to drugs, no? Tom was high on amphetamines and alcohol and pushed himself beyond the limit of his body and died on this mountain during the Tour de France. But yet, he’s a hero.

On the way down I stopped to take a photo. It seems like the thing to do is to donate a water bottle. I didn’t.

A cyclist going up saw me taking a photo, stopped, and offered to take mine. He did and then I took his. I also gave him a push to help him clip in and get going again.

Despite being dropped by my Philly friends, I was passed by four cyclists going up and I passed 17. On the descent, I was passed by no one and passed four more cyclists plus two cars. I was freezing on the descent (I did put on arm warmers), went through sleet then just pouring rain. I went as fast as I could safely go just to get down quickly.

Oh yea, Frenchmen must have a complex because they sure like to paint penises on the road quite a bit.

*I had made a reservation at a bed and breakfast near Mormion. There was no house number for a street address. Garmin got me close then had me go up a back alley that soon narrowed and wasn’t big enough for the car. I asked three different families who were walking and none seemed to no for sure where it was. Eventually, I found it, and took just my backpack to the door.

I used the door knocker. I heard a dog bark but that was it. They had a bell with a long rope. I pulled it repeatedly. No answer. I was scared. I was literally in a back alley.

I found my way to the main street and there was a pizza shop about to close with a couple sitting out front. I started talking to them and found out they were from England. He was kind enough to use his iPhone and call the place for me. Answering machine. He then sent an email. After 15 minutes the pizza shop closed and the owner went with me to the place. He too had no luck getting an answer.

I drove to the nearest major city, Carpentras. I found a Best Western that was about to close for the night (11:00p) and a sign on the door advertised they were full. I asked anyhow if they knew of other vacancies. The desk clerk told me that every hotel he knew was full since there was a festival in town.

I asked if he would be so kind as to let me log onto his WiFi and send my wife a message that I was OK since I hadn’t messaged her at all today. Of course, I was also scared to death but wouldn’t tell her that. He walked outside with me and secretly handed me a slip of paper with codes to the WiFi signal. He showed me the imaginary line where I would be outside of camera range because he would get in trouble if his boss saw him helping me. (True)

I thanked him, got my laptop as the rain started to fall lightly, then ducked in a protected area close enough but not able to be seen. I found the signal but could not connect. Damn shame.

I got in the car and started driving. I looked for “all lodging” on the GPS and it brought up campgrounds as well. I thought that might be an option. One was close and a bit secluded. I arrived and went through a security gate. I parked and explained my situation to a young man who quickly ran and got his sister because “her English is perfect.” It wasn’t, far from it compared to many people I met in France, but it was adequate. And it was 10 times better than my French. Her mother, the campground owner came over as well.

This campground was full. I offered to rent a site but they had none available. Then she asked if I had a tent. Well, no. All I was looking for was to park for the night and sleep in the car. Someplace safe from criminals and the police (in case it was somehow illegal).

They willingly agreed and offered me a blanket and pillow. And a shower. I declined all but the owner brought me a blanket anyhow. I’m glad she did.

It wasn’t a relaxing sleep in the Fiat and morning came soon enough. I went to meet and thank the owners and this time there was a man there. I returned their blanket and couldn’t thank them enough.

He had fresh croissants delivered and I bought one for my breakfast then decided to drive to Bédoin rather than bike there because I was very unsure of the direction. Thus I had suffered from sleeping in the car last night and having no breakfast, save for a croissant, which is hardly the energy food for climbing such a mountain.

July 16, 2011August 28, 2020

A Sign for the Times

SAINT GAUDENS, FRANCE

I saw a mountaintop pass of the Tour, I’ve been at the finish for another, and today would be a day to see a start stage. Stage 14 of the Tour de France is from Saint Gaudens to Plateau de Beille.

Adiran Register and I drove to St. Gaudens, parked, then used our bikes to try to find the team buses and sign-in. The streets were narrow and confusing but we eventually found a long line of buses. Much of the interior of the center city was blocked off for guests with private passes. VIPs.

We decided to hang out at the Leopard-Trek bus as Adrian Register has a “Shut Up Legs” t-shirt he tried to get autographed by Jens Voigt.

No one was coming out although a few people seemed to have good luck handing items to be sent in the R.V. and signed. By whom is the question.

Unlucky to get any autographs, once the riders departed for the stage start, we tried to get to the roll out. A number of “fans” saw Adrian in his full FDJ kit and wished him good luck. It was pretty cool that they thought he was a pro rider. No mistaking me for a pro rider though.

We missed the roll out, probably because we went in the opposite direction, but we followed the course for a few kilometers just stretching out our legs. Just as we were ready to turn back into town, I spotted it. A Tour route sign that had not been claimed.

I was not willing to take one down before they went by but this was on a signpost – right in front of two Gendarmes. I looked at Adrian and he looked an me and I knew I had my prized souvenir. Except we had nothing to remove it with. Adrian asked the Gendarmes if they had wire cutters. They didn’t. But removing a tool from my toolkit on my bike, and enough twisting and pulling, the wire holding it finally broke loose.

I now have one of the prized signs. Vive le Tour! *

After the stage we drove back to St. Lary-Soulan and I said goodbye to Adrian while meeting his grandparents. Cool thing: As we pulled Adrian’s bike out of the car his grandmother grabbed the loose rear wheel and put it right on the bike.

*UPDATE July 8, 2017 – Almost six years after acquiring my prized possession, I let it go. Rather than sit in a box in the basement, it deserves to be displayed.

I took it to Bicycles and Coffee bike shop (and coffee) in Purcellville where everyone can see the sign.

Nicole was so appreciative she gave me a copy of her book, Under the French Blue Sky.

Scott & Nicole – Enjoy! Vive le Tour!

July 5, 2011July 23, 2015

Happy 4th

STERLING, VA

Happy 4th of July!

Today I parked near Dulles Airport and rode to Loudoun County H.S. in Leesburg to join a 60 mile ride around Loudoun County visiting quaint little towns celebrating the 4th of July. By visiting I mean rolling through without stopping.

I was better suited to a solo ride today. A solo ride affords me the opportunity to stop and take pictures and the little towns were sure beautiful, all decorated in red, white, and blue. And there was no better picture than a beautiful red barn outfitted in American flags. But I stayed with my group.

We rode through Waterford to Lovettsville, then Hillsboro to Round Hill. At Round Hill I broke off from the group. They had planned to ride down to Airmont then back to Purcellville. That would give them 60 miles.

I headed back on Rte 7 through Purcellville and Hamilton and back to Leesburg cutting a little off the ride knowing I had an extra 20 miles in my legs.

In contrast to the 100 miles in America’s Most Beautiful Ride, today my legs felt awful. I hated not to stay with the group although our group was down to four riders. But I knew to listen to my body.

I stopped by Loudoun Golf and Country Club. But my son-in-law, Byran Snow, the golf pro there, was on vacation.

I stopped in Leesburg for a Gatorade. I stopped on the trail just outside of Leesburg looking for more water. It didn’t work. I stopped at Smith’s Switch Station where at least they had water.

In the end, 70 miles was enough today. Recoup. Rehydrate. And celebrate another year of life.

November 28, 2010July 23, 2015

5,000 Miles

LANDIS STORE, PENNSYLVANIA

Total miles ridden in one year was never a goal; specifically, I never set out to ride 5,000 miles in one year (8,047 kilometers). Rather, it was a byproduct that in this year of my recovery riding was the one activity where I felt normal.

Although I made an effort to track every mile in 2009, I gave it up once I was diagnosed with cancer. In prior years I simply noted the odometer on my bike at the end of each year. My previous mileage counts were in the 2,500 mile range and in three years on this bike I had 6,600 miles at the end of last year.

This year was different. I recorded every mile in a spreadsheet. On August 22 I completed the LIVESTRONG-Challenge Philly and went over 3,000 miles for the year. On that day I noted that I could hit 5,000 miles by the end of year if I could keep riding deep into the fall. It becomes difficult because the light of summer evenings turns to the darkness of the fall. Weekends could be cold and rainy and the enthusiasm for being on the bike wanes.

I looked at where I had been and what I needed and knew I would reach 5,000 miles. It was a question of when. That was answered yesterday. I had left myself just 27 miles short and could break 5,000 on the Reston Bike Lane shop ride or go to Pennsylvania. I decided on Pennsylvania. I rode 21 miles in the late afternoon and left myself needing just 6 1/2 miles today.

My niece, Emily Cramer, was in the Pennsylvania Outstanding Young Woman competition in Reading. She was the winner of the Somerset competition and was representing Somerset in the state-wide competition. Emily and I also rode together on July 4 when we encountered a bear.

Rev. Harry C. Sherry, Emily Cramer, Naomi Sherry

Not far from Reading the LIVESTRONG-Challenge Philly course rolls by. The longest and steepest hill is on Oysterburg Road up to the village of Landis Store. This is also where the “devil” will taunt riders trying to make it up the hill.

Ha! It was too cold today for a sighting of the Devil

On a cold and very windy day, we drove through Reading out to Oley and found the intersection of Hoch and Bertolet Mill Roads. The temperature was just 40 degrees and the winds were howling. I misread the map and pushed off in the opposite direction. Oh well, bonus miles in the valley before beginning the climb. Once righted, I found Oysterburg Road and began reflecting on every mile that I rode this year. That’s 5,000 reflections.

Two years straight I rode this route and flew by the prettiest stone and wood barn, always going by too fast to stop and take pictures. Today I could.

Not far beyond the barn is another barn near the base of the two-mile climb. Although not a rest break in the LIVESTRONG Challenge, there is always bottled water there for the riders to refill before the climb. It is also where riders are taunted with signs that the hill is steep. And the hill is long.

Photo in summer (Aug. ’09) stating the obvious

I hit the climb and was all smiles. Although I had to work, there was an 18-19% wall, but it was all good. I reached the summit in two miles and came to the Landis Store Hotel at the Village of Landis Store, Pa.

During the Challenge this is a major rest stop. It is beaming with riders glad to have made it 57 miles. Live music, hot food, plus water and Gatorade are a feature at this stop. Today, nothing. But that’s OK. I came back to the place where I twice came to fight the global fight on cancer.

Once I arrived at Landis Store, which is now a restaurant but has been a store and hotel over the years, I was ready to pack up and leave and get back to Reading to see Emily. But so many times I enjoy or suffer the climbs and don’t reap the reward on the other side — the “wee” factor that comes with the descent. So I turned around and flew down the mountain I had just climbed.

I came back to tell cancer you have picked on the wrong person.

5,000 miles indeed!

EPILOGUE: My niece, Emily Cramer, was named the 1st runner-up in the statewide competition as Outstanding Young Woman. Congratulations Emily!

Map and Stats at Ride with GPS.com

November 1, 2010July 23, 2015

Blair Witch Project

BURKITTSVILLE, MARYLAND

This was one of the hardest 50 mile rides I have done. Stupid wind.

I had a rough idea where I was going when I left Ashley and Bryan’s place in Ranson (near Charles Town, WV) but wasn’t completely sure. I knew I wanted to go to Burkittsville which is the home of the Blair Witch Project. It was Halloween, after all.

My route eventually took me on U.S. 340 across the Shenandoah River at Harpers Ferry then, about three miles later, across the Potomac River from Virginia into Maryland. The bridge is narrow with no shoulders and the pedestrian sidewalk was closed. I had no choice but to pedal across it.

I fought a brisk wind for most of the ride. It was so strong, and cold, that at times I was out of the saddle even on the flats, trying to generate enough power.

At Burkittsville I headed up Gapland Road. It was less than a one mile climb but one portion measured at 16%. It was a neat little climb. At the summit is a memorial to Civil War Correspondents. This was also the site of the battle for South Mountain.

Burkittsville, Md.

Also, it was here that was Rest Stop Number One for the Civil War Century ride I did last month. To go from 1,600 riders in one place to just one seemed quite strange.

One of many plaques at South Mountain

Last month Townsend Road had been newly “chipped,” that is, there was lots of fresh gravel on a tar base. It was the scariest portion of the century ride just trying to stay upright. Today the road looks like any other asphalt road.

Chip and tar but in great shape

In September I was leading a group of 6-7 riders down Burnside Bridge Road around 25-30 mph. We came to Antietam Creek and I wanted to capture a picture of the creek next to the road and a bunch of swimmers and tubers enjoying the last swim of the summer. But I couldn’t apply the brakes and pull over so that memory is engraved only in my mind.

Today I was able to stop and take a picture. No kids swimming. Just a beautiful scene.

Burnside Bridge Road, near Sharpsburg, Md., at Antietam Creek

At Sharpsburg I headed towards Shepherdstown. Bethany, Ashley, and my money attended here. But it had been a while since I had been to this quaint town. There is a historical marker on Rte 9 at the Va.-WV border that states that it had been urged to make Shepherdstown the nation’s capital. Interesting.

Shepherdstown, West Virginia

I had wanted to follow the bike path that parallels Rte 9 but discovered it ends with no access to Rte 9 (bicycles prohibited). I followed Rte 115 to Ranson not knowing where I was going. My sense of direction told me to turn on 17th Street looking for a way to Flowing Springs Rd then back to Ashley’s. However, it was a pleasant surprise when I followed this street and discovered that there was a back entrance to Ashley’s development. Who knew?

“City” of Ranson

Fifty miles and I was more drained than on any of the century rides I have done this year. Stupid wind.

September 19, 2010July 23, 2015

Rappahannock Rough Ride

WASHINGTON, VA

The Rappahannock Rough Ride started and ended in Washington, Va., a place often referred to as “Little Washington.” As the sign proclaims, of the 28 Washingtons in the U.S., this was the first of them all.

Shortly after we rolled out from our mass start, the cable to my front derailleur broke, or at least I thought it did. I had been rolling with the very front pack but knew I couldn’t keep up this pace in a small ring up front.

Stuck in the 30-tooth gear, I did OK climbing hills but could not keep pace on the flats and downhills. All the other riders were in their big rings producing high speeds. I had to pedal furiously which eventually took its toll on me. My cadence even hit a ridiculous 168 rpm.

This was a beautiful ride. The Sheriff’s department actually blocked all traffic on US 211 westbound as we rolled out of Washington, Va. Some of the roads were as smooth as glass. Despite my mechanical, I still averaged 19.0 mph for the first 18 miles.

I was pleasantly surprised by the support on the ride. I did not expect water and Gatorade but was expecting a glorified Potomac Pedalers ride with rest stops at local country stores or service stations.

The route was hillier than I expected. I expected this to remain in the valley but there were still plenty of rollers. More than one mile of vertical gain over 58 miles. This certainly qualified as a hilly course, normally a course I love where the hills produce the right amount of pain and the thrill of a descent over the top. Except I couldn’t produce the big speeds on the descent. Without the big speeds down the hills I couldn’t roll up the other side quite as easily. Oh well.

The Grinch – Great Jersey!

Three of us rolled out of the first rest stop; my friend, John Dockins, a guy named Ray, and me. Ray commented on how fast I was pedaling and saw my derailleur cable. We soon caught a fourth guy and then John and Ray pulled away. We had two groups of two and eventually, I pulled away from “The Grinch.” I rode more than five miles solo before finally catching back on with Ray and John. Ray even congratulated me on the good work of rejoining them. I thought that they could have “sat up” and waited. Oh well, this builds character.

Over the next few miles I tended to get up the long hills a little faster than John but on the flats and downhills he could pull away. And he jumped in with two other riders and pulled away, waiting for me at the Marriott Ranch rest stop, although he was never more than one minute ahead.

At the second rest stop we examined the cable and noticed that it wasn’t broken – just disconnected. So, we became bike mechanics and were able to reconnect and adjust the derailleur. I could ride again.

But for the last 20 miles I was pretty much toast. I had worked hard pedaling in the small ring, and didn’t have much left. I was content to ride home at a comfortable pace.

The roads were super and the views superb. Much of the route we could see the Blue Ridge Mountains and Shenandoah National Park. On a great weather day, temperatures in the 70s, I still came in probably in the top 10% of riders. It was a day that I thought if the SAG wagon came by I might decide to abandon. But I also decided I could ride along in a little gear and then was rewarded by fixing it. My average speed was 17 mph which, on a very hilly route, still qualified as an A pace.

It was a great day on the bike.

September 12, 2010July 23, 2015

Civil War Century

THURMONT, MD

It was 48 degrees when Ernie Rodriguez and I rolled through Frederick, Maryland on our way to Thurmont for the start of the Civil War Century. The big question was arm warmers or no arm warmers. Ultimately I decided no warmers and it was a good decision. The temperature climbed into the high 70s and it was one less thing to carry, and potentially lose along the way.

Ernie Climbing South Mountain

The ride began with a seven mile climb through Cunningham Falls State Park in the Catoctin Mountains. This is where Camp David, the presidential retreat is located, although we did not pass the secret Campground Number 3 (shhh!). And that was followed by a 14 mile descent and then some “rollers” before the mile and a quarter climb up to the South Mountain Battlefield site.

South Mountain Battlefield Site

On the descent I picked up enough speed that I looked down and saw my speedometer go over 50 mph. Only once before had I pushed it to 50 and I was so concentrating on pedaling or holding on, or both, that only when I checked my max speed later did I see it go over 50. Today I looked at the speedometer while it was occurring. It hit 51.9 (52 mph!). Awesome. Nothing, not even a flat tire, could ruin this day.

Max Speed: 51.9 mph

After a short break, enough to use the porta-johns and refill our bottles, we headed off to Sharpsburg, the site of the Antietam National Battlefield. Then it was on to Boonesboro and Smithsburg.

While on Rte 64 in Smithsburg, I ran over something that wasn’t good. Ernie thought it may have been a cable of sorts but it sounded like a baseball card was in my spokes for 30 seconds or so then it freed itself. But about 60 seconds later I flatted. It was the first flat I have had in more than two years and probably 6,000 miles of riding.

Still not sure what occurred. When I got home there wasn’t a puncture in the tube. But the valve wasn’t functioning properly. Whether that cable somehow hit the valve, I don’t know, but it was shortly after I picked up the road debris that I flatted.

Ernie fixing my flat

Ernie used his hand pump to fill up the tire. After a repair I always worry that there’s a piece of glass embedded in the tire which will cause another flat. And I feel like I am riding on a flat.

Ritchie Road

I felt sluggish on the 4 1/2 mile climb up Ritchie Road. It was the high point of the ride and the beginning of a 40 mile downhill or flat ride back to Thurmont. But I was afraid to let the bike roll on the descent.

Rest Stop, Fairfield, Pa

When we reached the rest stop at Fairfield, Pa., I immediately went to the repair tent for a floor pump. Tire pressure was 62 psi. I normally ride about 100-110 psi. Once I fully inflated the tire I never thought about it again.

Fairfield Inn. One of six inns in continuous service since the 1700s.

At Gettysburg, we were reminded at every intersection to ride single file. We did.

We rode through the Battlefield. What an impressive site seeing all the monuments lining the roads.

The run in back to Thurmont was basically flat. We passed through the Roddy Road covered bridge. It was the second covered bridge we had on the route.

Roddy Road Covered Bridge

Back at Thurmont they had ice cream and sandwiches.

Sean Walker and girlfriend

It was a GREAT day in the saddle.

Garmin Maps and Stats (on Ride with GPS.com)

104 miles and 7,000 or 9,000 feet of climbing. Who knows for sure? But 52 MPH! Sweet!!!!!

Ernie wearing his changing skirt

September 6, 2010July 23, 2015

10,000 Miles

MIDDLEBURG, VIRGINIA

I thought this would be a big day. The day I rolled over 10,000 miles on my Trek Pilot. But in the end, it was just another mile. In fact, it was an extra mile.

I went out to horse country, Middleburg, Virginia, for a Labor Day Potomac Pedalers ride called Horse Hills. Although listed as a class CC ride, I didn’t mind this slower-than-normal pace as my legs could take a day off after a 80-mile mountainous route on Saturday.

The first hills sorted out the riding groups and I found myself in a group of four guys who would hang together until the end and not stop at any of the planned rest stops either. A couple of the riders were new. One had just moved here from California. Another had moved to Purcellville and was to begin his teaching the next day at Harper Park Middle School in Leesburg.

Middleburg, Va.

As we rolled through Hillsboro we passed a family on bikes — a dad without his helmet, and little girl with hers on. As John Kilmartin passed, he looked and saw that it was his new principal so he stopped to say hello. And he did not remind him to wear his helmet.

John Kilmartin

Of course I was not privy to their conversation and only found out later that John was hired at Harper Park Middle School, in Leesburg. Tomorrow would be his first day. Harper Park is also where my son-in-law, Andy Olejer, works in administration. I didn’t say a word about Andy, instead talking about another assistant principal, Don Keener. Andy can have some fun with John later since I dropped my group about three miles from the finish to solo on home. King of the CC ride. So what?

When I reached the school where we had parked my odometer was at 9,999 miles. So I had to go for another mile to get it to turn to 10,000. I headed back out in the country, turned it over, and then came back. Anti-climatic. No one cheered me on.

While 10,000 miles on a bike seems like a lot to most people, to many cyclists it’s just another number. It certainly pales in comparison to Danny Chew, who calls himself the 1,000,000 man. Although he may be slowing down, and don’t we all? The last number listed on his website is 621,371.

I have other miles on other bikes, but this is the first time I’ve had an odometer that worked most of the time, and was able to see it turn over 10,000 miles. It was sort of neat.

Garmin Map and Stats

In the end I averaged 16.0 mph on what I would rate as a “Hilly” route. We climbed 3,500′ over 42 miles. That would still qualify at the top of the BB or bottom of the A pace on the Potomac Pedalers Chart. On a day I took it easy.

Came home, cleaned the bike and got it ready for the next 10,000 miles.

September 4, 2010July 23, 2015

Just 16 Miles in Virginia

FRONT ROYAL, VA

In July, I rode 300 miles in France without a single incident of road rage. Today, it only took 16 miles in Virginia.

I was on a Potomac Pedalers group ride called Edinburg Gap. The rage was more remarkable because the “Bubba” driving his big truck was coming in the opposite direction and not inconvenienced by following cyclists at speed. Still, he slowed, rolled down his window, and yelled “GET THE $^%@& OFF THE ROAD!” God, I miss riding in France.

While 20 or so of the 40 riders total started out together, there was a split around mile four and I ended up in a second, or third, group of six. I thought I could bridge to the front group but had no reason to. This was a “B” pace so I didn’t need to kill myself to get up with the stronger riders. Besides, yesterday it was 90 degrees and I rode 42 miles (68 km) home from work. My legs were tired.

Around Mile 10, we hit our first real hill and four of the six fell off the pace. That would be my pace. I had been soft-pedaling before but this time I was passed by a rider in a “Spokes” jersey so I sat on his wheel. I never saw the other four riders the rest of the day.

On Fort Valley Road. Our initial group of six
which would end in two minutes.

At the first store/rest stop, we stopped long enough to form a group of four and stayed together until the climb up Edinburg Gap. In Edinburg, there were perhaps 15 of us who rolled out at the same time.

We hit a decent climb at Mile 41 that split the group. Some, like me, were simply caught behind the “wrong wheel” when the split occurred with no chance at staying up front, while others seemingly were going backwards on the climb. What shook out was a group of four up front, followed by a solo rider about 100 meters behind them, and followed by me another 100 meters or so behind him. I thought the leaders would soft-pedal to allow at least us to integrate but they weren’t interested.

Rolling out from Edinburg. Blue guy, two yellow

guys, and red guy were part of our group of six.

After a few miles of rollers and realizing that I wasn’t going to integrate with the leaders, I “sat up.” I simply waited for the next wave of riders to catch me so we could form a group. Two guys did, and thanked me. Our group of three, working together in the wind, soon caught the solo guy ahead. Then we had four working together, and it became a bit easier. We no longer concerned ourselves with the four guys off the front. It wasn’t a race. In a race they have every right to and should take off. But it’s a friggin’ ride.

I caught a glimpse of two more riders, about 300 meters behind us and instructed our group to sit up. Or we took a vote. And I won. We sat up and soon had a group of six working together. Life was good!

Normally I wouldn’t stop at a rest stop with 10 miles to go but I was out of fluids. We stopped at a 7-11 and refilled our bottles. One of the riders made it a point to thank me for organizing our group of six and holding everybody together.

Last stop. Middletown, Va. Blue/white guy

was another one of our six.

We hadn’t rested long, nor did we want to stay long, when three of our six were ready to go before the other three. The second three told us to go ahead without them. The last 10 miles was an enjoyable run back into Front Royal. Time and miles flew by as one of the riders saw my Trek Travel jersey. He too, had been in France, although not with Trek Travel. But we chatted about riding in France and how enjoyable it was not to have to deal with the “Bubba’s” of the world.

On the day: 80.2 miles (129 km). Average speed was 17.2 mph (27.7 kpm). On the Potomac Pedalers Ride Classification, that speed qualifies as a “BB” pace for a “moderate” route and as an “A” pace for a “Hilly” route. Not bad for tired legs.

Garmin Map and Stats