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October 19, 2013March 6, 2023

Robbie Ventura – Photographer

COCKEYSVILLE, MARYLAND

The event was the Save a Limb Ride, a fundraiser for The Rubin Institute for Advanced Orthopedics which, I think, is primarily at Sinai Hospital in Baltimore. I left the house at 5:00 a.m. to get to the start line on time.

As I was leaving registration I saw Ben King and then Jens Voigt. I went to the car and got some Sharpies. I was wearing my Shut Up Legs t-shirt. I really haven’t been following Jens around the world for this moment. It just seemed that way.

In 2011, Adrian Register and I were at the team bus for Leopard-Trek in Saint Gaudens, France. Adrian had his Shut Up Legs t-shirt but when the team exited the bus they had to get to the starting line quickly. I’m not even sure if I owned my t-shirt at that point or if I bought it later.

Ducking back inside registration I asked Jens to sign my shirt. He willingly obliged. I was a happy camper. No matter what would happen on the day it would be a good day.

At 8:00 a.m. we gathered at the event start. The good doctor who was the emcee referred to Jens (pronounced Yens in his native German) as “Gens” (as in more than one girl named Jen). And said he was from East Germany. “I guess it’s all one big Germany, now.” I sort of giggled. Cyclists all cringed as the doctor mangled his name.

As we rolled out it was a cold 48℉. It was ard to believe it was summer just two weeks ago. Plus it was windy too.

The course was somewhat difficult. The event website warned: “Please be aware that our Metric Century ride is a difficult and challenging ride with 5,400 feet of climb.” Actually, for 60 miles, nearly 6,000′ of climb is a lot. Generally, anything more than 100 feet per mile is mountainous and this approached that. I hadn’t read the warning or maybe I would have used the small ring on my triple. I stayed in the 39-tooth middle ring on all the climbs.

I rode for a while with a guy from Fairfax Co. who wore a full FDJ kit. Remember Kentucky Fried Chicken? It was rebranded as KFC to avoid that awful word “fried.” This team was named FDJeux.com in 2003 and 2004, then renamed Française des Jeux, supposedly to avoid bad luck, until July 2010, when the name was simplified to its initials. (Source: Wikipedia)

I never got his name. He was perhaps 10 years younger and we seemed to match up in power and speed. Around Mile 30 it seemed on every climb, and there were lots of small ones, he dropped back. I always waited. I believe three times he asked me to ride ahead but I was comfortable shepherding him along.

andBut as we were “climbing” up around Prettyboy Reservoir we were joined by two guys who were methodically, but slowly, making their way up the climb. I stayed with them then soft-pedaled at the top but FDJ-guy never did rejoin me. Ever. Even at the end. I think I spent almost an hour at the festival. I never saw him again.

The route was through rolling country roads. The cues were painted on the road. On a group ride, I tend to follow: (1) people; (2) cues; or (3) maps, in that order. Early in the ride, we came to an intersection on a descent. Normally a four-way stop, it was missing the stop sign. Following the wheels of other riders, we flew through it and kept going. About a mile later I saw cyclists coming in the other direction. Another half mile I see 10-15 cyclists all looking at maps. Oh oh. Bonus miles!

The last 10 miles I was pretty much in “no man’s land”. I rarely saw anyone on the road up ahead and was not caught by anyone. I had to follow the cues. They were well-marked until the end. I was navigating by feel as I often didn’t think I was on the right course. But I made it.

Back at the finish I went to the festival. There, Jens, Ben King, and Robbie Ventura were signing autographs. I thought about getting them to sign my race bib but what would I do with it? Some had them autograph their event T-shirt, but again, why?

I was just looking at the autograph table with Jens and Ben and it was as though Robbie read my mind. Actually, he did one better because I never thought of posing with Jens and Ben. Robbie took my camera and told me to get in the picture with those two. After snapping a photo of us, a volunteer took a picture of Robbie and me.

Weighing heavy on my mind was the recent accident by my friend, Scott Scudamore. Hope and prayers were the best we could do and I wanted to deliver hope. I asked Jens and Ben to make short greeting videos wishing Scott well and they did.

Robbie’s take today on the course was that it was quite difficult. He said it is much easier to have two or three hard climbs and then flat, unlike this undulating course. “Anyone can ride 100 miles on flat” (uh, no they can’t), he said, “but you really have to be fit to ride a course like today’s.” He’s right. My legs feel it.

EPILOGUE/COMMENTS – I look back almost 10 years ago at this ride. The biggest thing that has changed is the course route directions. In 2013, the events printed cue sheets. Savvy riders, of which I was never one, even had a plastic holder on the front of their bike to slip in the turn-by-turn directions and/or course map. The event also painted arrows on the road or erected signs at the turns.

Today many, if not most, riders have bike computers that will show the turns on the bike’s head unit. I was one of the worst at following cue sheets. I put them in my pocket where the paper soon disintegrated due to sweat. I often told riders I would ride in the front position as long as they would tell me where to turn. Now, almost all events provide the course maps in electronic form so riders can upload those to their bike computers.

Lastly, that picture of Jens and Ben. Since that time I have been able to do rides with both riders. And my expectation is that I will ride with both guys again. — March 6, 2023

August 25, 2013January 4, 2024

More Booty

COLUMBIA, MARYLAND

Last year I rode my first 24 Hours of Booty not knowing anyone in attendance other than through a cyber invitation from Bryan McMillan. We had never met before then. But I had a good time and soon discovered some of the summer cancer riders were there as well.

This year I decided to be a team captain. Officially we were Team Jake’s Snazzy Pistols, in honor and in memory of Jake “The Hero” Grecco. I signed up his step-father, Gary Gravina, my sister, Betsy Sherry, and John Phipps, a friend I met a couple of years ago while riding the Saint Mary’s Century (or was it the Southern Maryland Century?).

A couple of days before the event I heard from Gary who mixed up the event dates and could not attend. That was a big set back. But I still looked forward to the event. Our pistols wouldn’t be as snazzy now.

Last year I knew no one in advance. This year some of my Key West teammates attended as well as last year’s cancer riders, Jeff Graves and Erin Mack.

I decided to tent, still not sure that was a good idea, but arrived early enough to set up the tent. With not much time before the start, I joined fellow survivors at the front of the line for the Survivor Lap, which I think is really half a lap. Meg Shipman, Paul Lemle, Jessica Tanner, and Thomas Backof from the Key West ride, all were at the front.

After the first lap (I won) I dropped back and rode with my sister. I introduced her to all my friends I could find. While I rode at a decent pace, I talked more than I did last year and didn’t rack up the miles. I also had more fun.

I carried a wooden “train” whistle. As I approached the kids that were riding I gave it my best train whistle sound. That always got smiles. It slowed me down but that was OK.

I was invited to the Yellow Jersey Dinner and took Betsy as my guest. It was the same dinner menu as the other riders got but with speakers. Less riding.

After 6:00 p.m., my friend, Adam Lewandowski, came over from Race Pace Bicycles to work and brought a Trek Domane for me to test ride. Even less riding while we switched pedals and put my lights on that bike.

By 9:00 p.m. John had reached 100 miles and was checking out for the night. He had a hotel. I was envious. Real envious.

Last year I rode until the Midnight Pizza arrived and my light gave out. I had 120 miles at that point. This year I had to lift the pace to get 100 miles before midnight. After Midnight Pizza I decided to get some sleep. This would not be the year I would actually ride for 24 hours. I don’t know if I would try that. Maybe some day.

By 6:00 a.m. I was awake and went out on the course at 6:30.

Breakfast, by invitation, was a Survivors Breakfast. It was the same breakfast (menu) as everyone else got but we had speakers. More down time. This is not to diminish the speakers. They were all good.

After breakfast I had a great surprise. Last year Team Portland was greatly effected by Jake’s story, and ultimately, his passing. I had met Jake’s Pedal Pal, Chey Hillsgrove, on the day they left Baltimore, but had been friended on Facebook by one of the riders, Trish Kallis.

And after breakfast there she (Trish) was. She called my name. I was taken aback certainly not expecting to see her here. It was great to finally meet her.

Late morning we tore down our campsite. More time off the bike. But I rode when I could. Ultimately I got in another 41 miles before we all joined in for the last lap at 2:00 p.m.

Great weather, great friends, and fighting cancer. It really doesn’t get any better than this.

August 17, 2013August 1, 2021

The Big Test Every Year

GORHAM, NEW HAMPSHIRE

Six weeks ago I broke my collarbone and immediately tried to withdraw from this event. But I was past the cutoff time and after trying to sell my entry unsuccessfully, it was with great trepidation I decided to go to the mountain. Riding with the collarbone hasn’t been bad the past six weeks but it has prevented me from doing real hill training – not that there’s anything that compares to this mountain.

Riders at the start line (on the bridge). This was the last group to start.

Last year, the Gubinski family gave me a ride down and asked me if I would come back if they signed up. And so I did. Had I not signed the pact it would have been easy to skip this one. But I knew they would be at the mountain.

My heart wasn’t in this climb and even as I was driving towards New England on Thursday I often thought of turning around. I didn’t bother with finalizing hotel reservations until Wednesday.

The collarbone is pretty good now. It doesn’t effect me as I ride except occasionally out of the saddle if I twist the wrong way. It does, however, effect my sleep if I turn on my right side. So it’s not perfectly healed but I can do this.

But once I contacted the Gubinski family and asked if they still had a place for a rider (to bring down after the race) I felt more energized. We met yesterday at registration and were all set. Still, I wasn’t 100% sure I’d race.

This flag was whipping in the wind on the summit

It was a gorgeous day. Sunny and temperatures in the mid 60s at the base. I decided to ride.

As usual, I started last in the last group, the age 45 and older riders, which was so large it was divided into two groups, by alphabet. I started up the mountain with the usual thoughts. This hurts. Shut Up Legs. Keep the legs moving.

At times I thought about abandoning (aka quitting) but then thought about cancer. I am not a quitter. I will keep going unless I can’t. And even then I would find a way.

One of the nice views from the top. Wildcat Mountain is opposite.

The beauty of this ride is that time wasn’t important. Simply finishing would be a victory because there was no way I thought I’d be here after breaking my collarbone. I heal slowly.

Lucas (165) and Alexa (in black) at the start

I always remember a flat section but never found it. Every time I looked up, which wasn’t often, the road just kept going higher. The dirt section is still the dirt section. At the hairpin turn on dirt I was hit with a pretty vicious headwind. Hard to measure but we were told 40 mph winds.

A finisher’s medal and the bike bumper sticker

Soaked with sweat it was as though someone opened the freezer and turned the fan on high. Turbo high. I tried to get as low as possible while grinding up the dirt section.

I never checked my time. I just kept turning over the pedals. As I came to the final section a man I met at breakfast in the hotel called out “Virginia.” I stood briefly then as I turned the corner to the last 22% grade I stayed seated. Although I had alternated my position throughout the climb I guess it was just time to sit. I looked at the clock and saw 2:05 which was really 1:45 – less the 20 minute difference for starting later than the clock did.

Part of the Auto Road is visible in the left of this photo

My time, always consistent near 1:45, was just a time. I was quietly pleased that I had finished; I had fought off my own inner doubts about not being able to make it.

Within a couple of minutes I began to realize how cold it was. Just 41º (5ºC) and with 30 mph winds, the windchill was 29º (-1.7ºC). As the race organizers tried to cover me with a grey Polartec blanket, it was blown off. Before the woman could retrieve it I asked for a blue one. I have four or five grey ones already. I knew my wife would like blue.

Alison Gubinski found me and had my bag of clothes. I put on my jacket to keep me warm long enough before finding a nice place to change out of my sweat soaked clothes into my dry ones.

It was a fun day. My friend, Jeremiah Bishop, took third overall. The Gubinski’s, riding, for the first time, all did well; Lucas made Top Notch (sub 1:20) and Alexa got on the podium in her age group. I wish I could take credit for their great results.

It was 1300 miles for an 8-mile race. But it seems to be the big test I face every year. Can I climb Mount Washington? And for this year, the answer was yes. And with a broken collarbone.

My Strava time, which is not official race time (which includes standing on the bridge waiting for others to start after the starting gun has sounded), was 1:44:55, which was my second best time on the climb. I did have a PR for the first 7 km which tells me the wind and the cold may have done me in. Or perhaps a lack of endurance due to the collarbone break.

August 9, 2013March 6, 2023

Speechless in Seattle

SEATTLE, WASHINGTON

This wasn’t a day for riding but a day of celebration honoring Team Seattle’s finish. They started 70 days earlier and traveled more than 4,000 miles. I had promised my friend, Chey Hillsgrove, that if he did this ride I would greet him at the end.

I stayed in Bremerton and checked the ferry schedule while at breakfast. I could hurry to make the 7:20 a.m. ferry or take my time for the 8:45 a.m. I took my time. I was first in line for the ferry – I must have just missed the 7:20 boat – and the guy in the booth encouraged me to go for a bike ride. What a great idea. I saw Bremerton on a bike.

I arrived in Seattle and looked for Pike Place Market. I parked the car and then went for a bike ride. The waterfront was crowded and wasn’t as bike-friendly as Portland but I also found a waterfront bike path, the Elliott Bay Trail, which was nice. I checked the time and decided to cut the ride short to arrive in plenty of time.

My friends, Kimber and Dale Polley had brought milkshakes and pizza for the riders. And my friends, Amy and Randall Hopkins, and their family, also joined the celebration (I think they came to see me).

Two Batmans. Chey and Zach. Credit: Amy Hopkins

The team arrived to cheers from their families and friends. They were quite giddy. Or silly. Or goofy.* Chey and Shelby Perkins, the team leaders each spoke and then invited a representative from the organization to talk about what the organization does. The representative was speechless. It was embarrassing. Chey then motioned with his hands – “well, you could tell them about this ride.”

I’m not sure what the organization had for the riders except that Kimber had been trying for weeks to organize pizza and milkshakes. She finally did that on her own without a blessing from the organization.

It was truly a very awkward closing ceremony but their friends and family got to see one last cheer. And that was cool. They drowned out the guy performing close to them with a chainsaw.

Well done my friends!

*or drunk

August 3, 2013August 31, 2020

Punxsutawney Bound

PUNXSUTAWNEY, PENNSYLVANIA

It has been two years since I was able to ride to a family reunion. Yesterday’s forecast looked promising but just as soon as I left my parents’ place in Friedens, just north of Somerset, Pa., it started to rain.

What used to be a barn is now and auto sales lot in Davidsville

Riding with a broken collarbone I was a bit skittish as I rode. I was very afraid of having a spill on the road and landing on the collarbone. So I took it easy.

I stopped once an hour to take on food. While it was a just a gel that I normally take while I’m riding, I didn’t want to ride with one hand on the bars and one hand on the gel. It also allowed me to stop and take a one-hour photo to document where I was.

On the climb coming out of Johnstown on Rte 271

I have ridden the route enough to know the turns and climbs and find it quite enjoyable. The climb out of Conemaugh/Johnstown was quite enjoyable. I found myself with a comfortable pace albeit in the rain.

Horse poop. Amish Country. Three Hour Photo on PA 271 near Duman Lake Park

When I reached Northern Cambria, I stopped at the home of my 4th cousins, Don and Nancy Lowmaster. I had never stopped here before but warned them that one day I may stop for water. This was the day. Unfortunately, I was pretty squishy. When I moved you could hear water squishing. Nancy was great about cleaning the one bottle and refilling it with ice and water.

West Branch Susquehanna River near Cherry Tree. The river is so small here one can literally throw a stone from bank to bank.

As I left the skies really opened up. I was in a real downpour for the next 10 minutes but then the faucet was turned off for the day. By the time I reached Cherry Tree the sun was out, and other than my wet clothes, you wouldn’t have known it had rained.

Normally no one has every heard of Gipsy. But four months ago in Homestead, Fla., Craig Babst was talking about Gipsy like it was his hometown.

This was my first long effort since breaking my collarbone and I felt good. I feel as though I am starting to regain my form.

June 15, 2013March 6, 2023

Colorado Springs

COLORADO SPRINGS, COLORADO

Day 7 of Ride the Rockies brought mixed feelings. On one hand, I could ride here forever but on the other hand, it felt like it was time to stop. Scott Olson and I began our day by eating breakfast at McDonalds which opened at 5:00 a.m. (like they should have).

Once out on the open road the two of us stayed together through Florence. As we were leaving, and I was missing some photo ops, we were joined by two, then three other riders including a medic. And we were flying.

We were on our bikes before 7:00 a.m. Even trending uphill, we might arrive at the finish by 10:00 a.m. Scott was all in to do that but I was not. He wanted to get there, tear down and pack his bike, grab his luggage and catch a noon bus to the Denver airport. I had no where to go except Hays, Kansas, after the closing ceremony.

Saw this bike today
Maybe I should have bought one around 2000-2001

After doing a pull for our group, I moved aside and let them go. One rider saw me and drifted back briefly to pull me back in but I told them to go on. I was happy riding my own pace. Quite happy, in fact.

They picked up 50, then 100, then 200 meters on me. Then I quit watching. I shouldn’t have. Moments later I came upon a rider standing in the right lane of two motioning all cyclists into the travel lane and away from the shoulder. I saw a couple of riders down on the shoulder. I hoped it wasn’t Scott. But it was.

I stopped as did a second medic (one of our riders in the group was a medic and immediately was administering first aid) and quickly did what I could which was to help direct oncoming cyclists away from the danger spot – an uneven open seam in the concrete highway.

The Colorado State Patrol, on motorcycles, quickly arrived and an ambulance was not far behind. I was able to help lift Scott to put the board underneath him and then onto the stretcher. We made plans for me to pick up his bike in Colorado Springs after it was SAGged there but that would not be necessary as RTR took care of that.

Scott and another rider went to the hospital and I was pretty shaken up. It was hard to ride after that.

In comparison to the crash that I narrowly avoided, the rest of the day was uneventful. I rode slowly just talking to spectators and riders. At the second rest stop one rider saw the Mount Washington Auto Road Hillclimb jersey and asked me if I actually did that race. We chatted. He told me that wanted to try it but thought it would be too hard.

Just married
Don’t know where this relationship is going but they will get there faster on a tadem

After the second Aid Station, I was passed by Ron Kiefel and his sister, Erlinda. I joined them for a couple of miles, long enough to tell him I didn’t know how they could race on when a teammate goes down. It does leave one shaken. I was still shaken. But I wasn’t invited to join the two of them and soon let them go.

A few pictures. A few more miles and then I arrived the finish line. It didn’t feel like an accomplishment although many people were celebrating it as such. Volunteers were handing out pins. For me, it was just over.

I loved Ride the Rockies. I was asked by Lauren Hunt of the Davis Phinney Foundation to return next year and ride for them – a real honor to be sure. The memories I take are not of the riding although hard to beat a six-mile stretch off Wolf Creek Pass where I averaged 40 mph. But I will remember the people – Chris and Erin, the kayakers in Telluride; George Hincapie and Connie Carpenter; Bob Roll, the rider from Haymarket; a veterinarian from San Diego; an 8-year-old boy at Oak Lodge in Pagosa Springs; Lauren and Jenna from the Davis Phinney Foundation; Ron Keifel and his sister, Erlinda; the paraplegics riding with hand cranks; and Margaret and John riding with Parkinson’s. And many more that I have left off.

A standing ovation for the Colorado State Patrol arriving in Colorado Springs

This is one event, maybe the only event, that I can see myself returning to.

June 12, 2013March 3, 2023

Alamosa

ALAMOSA, COLORADO

The day that scared the peleton. I laughed.

On paper, the first 24 miles were uphill including the last eight miles up Wolf Creek Pass, a climb with switchbacks that crosses the pass at 10,856′. It was a daunting profile.

Rolling out of Pagosa Springs viewing the San Juan River

It was cold – the usual 48℉. Or less. I only wore arm warmers to keep me warm. The temperature here in the high desert was very cool or cold in the morning and then 100℉ by noon.

My legs felt like crap. This was not a good omen for climbing. Despite the profile showing all climb it seemed like there was a lot of downhill and old men and old women were passing me.

On the road (U.S. 160) to Wolf Creek Pass

On the bus ride out on Saturday, the guy I sat with mentioned to me that recovery, or lack of it due to altitude, will show up in Day 4 and I wondered if that was going to dog me today. It seemed that way. But why not Day 2 or Day 3?

One rider said this ranch we passed sold for $90M during the real estate boom

I pulled into the aid station at Mile 16 which also signaled the start of the real climb. The first 15 miles averaged one percent. Not much of a climb but still a climb. After using the port-a-john, they were generally very clean throughout the tour, I started the climb. This didn’t scare me. I think.

I did not have the tools or perhaps the courage, to look at the climb portion on Wolf’s Head. We stayed at 7,000′ in Pagosa Springs and would climb to 10,857′. The average grade for the next 8.5 miles was 6.5%.

When the legs hurt you see these guys with hand cranks. RESPECT!

This was to be the climb of the week. I decided I would occupy my mind by making a game of it. I would count every rider that I passed and count every rider that passed me. And hoped that I passed more than passed me.

Lauren Hunt (middle) of the Davis Phinney Foundation
Scott Olson and I shared a breakfast table with her this morning.

I just chugged away. It was 60 to six in favor of me passing riders. Then 102 to 10. I kept going. At the top, I was briefly passed by a rider but passed him back before the summit finish for no change. In the end, I was passed by 22 riders, including former pro Wayne Stetina. I passed 240.

The scenery was stunning. No pictures could capture it well. Maybe if I had stopped and took pictures I could have, but I wanted to keep climbing without pause.

Each day there was a designated Aid Station with a disk jockey or emcee. Today he was at the top of Wolf Creek Pass. He was having an egg shampoo contest which was a regular feature for him. Well, it was no contest. Just if anyone was willing to smash an egg on their head and rub it in, he would give them a t-shirt. It was most popular with men who shaved their heads.

With the climb over, the rest of the day should be easy. On the profile sheet the descent looked like a 68-mile downhill. It wasn’t.

The ride off the pass was wild. It wasn’t quite straight as an arrow, but nearly, and didn’t seem terribly steep. But it was long. The first six miles were the steepest but there was a good 14 miles or so before it leveled off.

Riders on the shoulder approaching the tunnel on U.S. 160

I rolled off the top of Wolf Creek Pass and got in a tuck. Volunteers were warning us to take it easy and all riders I saw were on the shoulder. I took the lane. At high-speed, I don’t like riding on shoulders because there is often debris there that isn’t in the travel lane.

Although not terribly steep, when one has long straight roads even at six percent grade one can pick up speed and I did. I hit 54 mph – a new personal best, and when I felt a little shimmy in the bike I decided 54 was fast enough. As I came to a tunnel I was warned of high winds at the other end and briefly applied the brakes. Heck, I stopped to take a picture.

The first six miles over the pass I averaged a nifty 40 mph. If only all rides could be like this.

After the aid station at South Fork, Mile 44, I rolled out alone. It was getting hot, it would be in the low 90s, and it was windy. It was tough being out in the wind and a group of about 30, which violated the RTR rules of no more than five in a paceline, came by. The guy at the end invited me to join. I could not resist.

The train was driven by four Belgians — four Belgians that I had passed on the climb. But they knew how to ride in the wind and they drove this and gave everyone a free ride. I felt bad but being on 30th wheel I was in no position to go to the front and help.

After a rest stop in Del Norte (Mile 59) I rolled out with some folks that I had just ridden with in the big group. One guy did all the work and when we were passed close to the next station he had nothing left to stay with them. I went to the front and tried to take him back up to the group. I bridged up to them. He didn’t. But we were in Monte Vista.

In Monte Vista the Tour served hot baked potatoes. With green chili and salsa. Perfect.

The next 18 miles to Alamosa were dead flat. I joined the group that I had finished with and was the only time I did not feel accepted. I took my pulls. But the alpha male in the group was a woman, Jane, from the U.S. Forest Service, and it just wasn’t a friendly experience. I was looking for an exit strategy but we were on Highway 160 which was under construction and had lots of truck traffic. There was no safe place to escape to. I rode with the group all the way to the school, Ride the Rockies’ headquarters, having passed by my hotel, the Hampton Inn, miles earlier.

After some exploring of Alamosa, I finished off the day making it a century. Plus four.

Back at the hotel, a very nice Hampton Inn, I grabbed my bag which was sitting in the lobby. Our bags were picked up from the hotel where we stayed daily and dropped at our destination. Alamosa sits at 7500′ in elevation. With my bag in hand, I saw there was a long line for the elevator. I decided simply to take the stairs to the third floor. I made it about halfway to the second floor before I was out of breath. Riding was no problem at elevation but climbing was.

June 11, 2013March 3, 2023

Pagosa Springs

PAGOSA SPRINGS, COLORADO

The profile for today’s stage looked like the wires on a suspension bridge. The first 14 miles were up, followed by 37 miles of down, then 32 miles of up, followed by a downhill into Pagosa Springs.

It looked difficult. We had almost 10,000′ of climbing in an 86-mile ride. Mountainous. But no complaints as I signed up for Ride the Rockies.

As with every morning, it was in the 40s when we rolled out. We had stayed at a Best Western in Durango which provided a continental breakfast that was good enough. But we were soon on a 14-mile climb and Scott Olson and I were soon separated as I popped out of the pack to take photos. (Or maybe I wasn’t able to keep up with him as he was a strong rider.)

But we were picking up speed and I was able to find him in the pack and we just rolled the middle section. We stayed together and at Arboles, Mile 51, we were able to roll out of the aid station together. At this point, we were a little more than one mile from New Mexico. We were truly in the southwest corner of Colorado.

As Chimney Rock came into view we were both jockeying for the best photo ops. Scott would stop. I would stop. I stayed with him until one mile before the aid station at Hwy 160, Mile 69. I sat up and took a breather. He rolled out of the aid station ahead of me and I took it slow and took more pictures.

Chimney Rock would be the main feature on today’s ride. For many riders, they were excited to see it again or for the first time. Some were ignorant like me and had never heard of it before today.

Two miles before Pagosa Springs the road dropped down. Although it was soon signed as 35 mph I wondered if this was a trick as I was hitting 45 mph without pedaling. Then I spotted a Subway and my stomach said to go for it. I ordered a sandwich, had it doubled bagged, and rolled on to the high school where I found a little shade and ate.

We stayed at the Quality Inn Hotel. Scott and I went to a Mexican restaurant and admired the spa across the river. Hot springs. Everywhere.

View from the Mexican restaurant. San Juan River in the foreground. Believe this is the Springs Resort in Pagosa Springs.

I didn’t go to the Springs Resort. Instead, after dinner, I found a public hot springs hole and soaked my legs. Very relaxing if not a bit smelly.

May 31, 2013March 6, 2023

Illini 4000

VIENNA, VIRGINIA

Some days things work out as a surprise. Today was one of those.

I love the Airport Loop. Early in the morning, the summer temperatures are still pleasant, the route shaded, and one sees a lot of cyclists, runners, and walkers along the trail. Some are unusual, like the $4,000 organic transportation pedal car I saw at Gallows Road.

While riding inbound on the Custis Trail I was passed in the opposite direction by four riders wearing the same orange and blue jersey. A few minutes later I was passed again by four other riders. And then a third time.

I didn’t catch much except “Trek” was on the jersey and I thought “Illini” may have been on the front of these orange jerseys. I did not think much else about them as I continued my ride.

Yang Song, Je Won Hong, Meiling Liu, Jordan Orr

After completing the loop and heading back to my start at Gallows Road, I caught four of these riders. And so I talked with them. They’re with the Illini for Cancer 4000. The Illini 4000 is much like the Texas 4000. Only their starting location was New York City and their destination this year is San Francisco.

I rode for a while with Yang Song, Je Won Hong, Meiling Liu, and Jordan Orr. I was glad to be their guide for a while. Today they were riding from Washington, D.C. to Boonsboro, Maryland. This first section was the W&OD out to Purcellville before jumping on real roads.

What was to be a nothing day turned into something special because I met four cancer fighters.

May 25, 2013February 19, 2024

Imgrund Mountain Road

NEW BALTIMORE, PENNSYLVANIA

I came to Pennsylvania on a scouting trip for some friends preparing a charity ride across the country. Google Maps show the most direct route from Bedford to Ligonier is through New Baltimore then up Imgrund Mountain Road. The problem was I wasn’t finding anyone who knew much about the road. (Or perhaps people knew and were unwilling to talk. Imgrund Mountain Road is believed by some to be the real crash site of Flight 93 and, as the lore goes, no outsiders are supposed to know since Flight 93 has put this area on the map.)

My dad drove the upper portion for me last week and told me it was “red dog” (look it up). But he never saw the nasty lower portion. I called the supervisor for the township and when I told him we were thinking about biking up it, he recommended against driving up it.

Non-cyclists view many hills, if not all hills, as something they wouldn’t ride on a bike. I knew that I could not rely on outside intel to make the determination if this was a safe route for my friends’ ride. I had to see it, and ride it, for myself.

Imgrund Mountain Road, the lower section

I went exploring and first started up Wambaugh Hollow Road, part of the Pennsylvania Bike S Route over the mountain. I remembered on Google Maps that near the top of the climb a road connected with Imgrund Mountain Road. Except that it didn’t.

I met a local and when I asked about the road that connected to Imgrund Mountain Road he told me there may have been an old hunting trail through there but assured me the only road over the mountain started back at the base off of New Baltimore Road. And then he looked at me in disbelief when I told him I was going to ride up it. Not to be outdone, then his “friendly” dog chased me, nipping at my heels.

I descended back to New Baltimore Road and found the entrance to Imgrund Mountain Road. I saw gravel. Dirt. Rocks. And a forest floor. My immediate thought was “no way.” I almost turned back knowing the answer.

Red dog road part of Imgrund Mountain Road

But my next thought was to see just how far I could go. So I started up the road. The first half-mile was rough. By rough I mean hard. The surface was mixed stones and dirt and even some water flowing down it creating gullies, so I couldn’t get any rhythm pedaling. I was trying to find a line that would do the least damage to my wheels.

I would not recommend a car travel up this road. Big enough for one car it has a very uneven surface and some rocks protruding from the surface. It is, however, perfect for a 4×4. And an adventurous spirit.

I kept climbing, at times getting out of the saddle but always finding the rear wheel would slip with each pedal stroke. After the first half-mile, the grade lessened some but still was considerable.

Power line. Google maps recommended this route instead of Imgrund Mountain Road.

The road threw everything it had at me for two and one-half miles. Just when it seemed I was at the top I saw a curve to the left and another climb. There was heavy gravel on the curve and my GPS showed a 22% grade.

I made it and the road leveled off. The surface got better – all packed dirt or gravel and flattened out and even trended down.

But the other factor was the wind. Heavy winds were blowing and it was cold. Memorial Day weekend it was 45 degrees at the start, never getting higher than the low 50s.

I wanted to ride 10 miles over to Friedens and surprise my parents but felt uncomfortable controlling the bike in the winds. Instead, I headed to US 30 and rode back to New Baltimore.

I could not recommend this ride for anyone on a road bike. Yet a huge sense of accomplishment swelled over me. I even thought of recommending the route to my friends just so I could chide them knowing I did it and some of them couldn’t. But that would be foolish. Real foolish. I’ll find them another way over the mountain.

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EPILOGUE (April 13, 2014) – I contacted Google and they have since corrected the hunting trail and the power line which showed as connecting to Imgrund Mountain Road. I still wouldn’t recommend it on a bike