Phil Gaimon - peaceonabike

June 23, 2019June 17, 2023

The Most Beautiful Ride in the World

AIROLA, SWITZERLAND

There’s a ride out west which bills itself as “America’s Most Beautiful Bike Ride.” It circumvents Lake Tahoe in California and Nevada and it sure is beautiful. Maybe the title is a little presumptuous but it surely is in the top ten of beautiful rides in the U.S.

Today I cast my vote for my most beautiful ride in the world. I would not have found it without Ben. I learned a lot about trains and bikes in Switzerland today. Ben and I (but mostly Ben) thought we had a plan but there were many moving parts. And not all went so well. We left Ben’s house at 6:40 a.m. and walked to the train station in Sissach.

When the train for Zürich came we tried to be aligned with the car that takes bikes. We weren’t. Ben spotted it and we rushed with two bikes, a bike case, and two suitcases. And barely made it.

Once on board, it was a relaxing train ride to the Zürich Main Station. There we found the DHL luggage drop-off, mainly because I had used it before but had no idea when, how, or why. The cost for day storage was 12 CHF per bag. I loaded both my two extra bags into the empty bike case to make it one bag instead of three. This is beating the system.

Airola, Switzerland
Rolling through town and already climbing

Ben had tried yesterday to make a reservation for our bikes for the train out of Zürich and could not. He assumed the app or website was not working properly but it may have been because they were sold out of bike reservations. But it didn’t display that way.

In Zürich, we rushed over to the track and Ben asked a conductor about getting our bikes on the train. She told him he needed a bike reservation and there were none available. Ben said he had been trying but their app wasn’t working. After some back and forth she told him to see the conductor at the end of the train. (The exchange was not this pleasant though.)

Now the end of this train seemingly was 200 meters away – at least. Ben was running to reach the conductor. I was in flip-flops and couldn’t run without them falling off. I got on my bike and rode down the platform. I hope that was OK.

Water water everywhere. But no fountains on Tremola Road.

The conductor took our bikes and put them in a freight car on the train. We took a seat and the conductor came by at which time we paid 5 CHF for the “reservation” which we did not have. The cost of a bike pass was 20 CHF so now I was in for 25 CHF to be able to take my bike on a train. I had paid 30 CHF for a companion pass to be with Ben.

St. Gotthard Pass, Switzerland. Cobbles up and beauty down. — St. Gotthard Pass
CREDIT: Thomson Bike Tours, Weekly Newsletter, 12 Jun 2020

We had to transfer, somewhere, I was just along for the ride. Ben said to disembark and we got off and then transferred to another train. This train to Airolo only required that bikes be hung on one of the two hooks in each car. The train came into the station and we looked for a car with room for our bikes. As the cars went by the bike hooks were all full. We went to the last car as did four other cyclists and neatly put six bikes in a space for two.

Once the train started rolling we felt safe. But Ben mentioned that if they saw the bikes they could put us off at the next stop, which was a couple of stops short of our destination. Two conductors came by. I could not hear or at least understand what they were saying. Ben said they laughed at all the bikes and said it wasn’t the record – they once had 47. Or maybe we have 47 on this train.

Some of the riders on the train were road cyclists headed to see the Tour de Suisse, as we were. Some were enjoying a beautiful summer day to go mountain biking. But there were lots of cyclists on the train whether they be of the slick tire or knobby tire variety.

We exited at Airolo, which is in the Italian-speaking portion of Switzerland. I met a couple who saw the cookie decal on my bike. He asked me if that was a Phil Gaimon cookie. Who knew someone in Switzerland would know about the cookies? It turns out that the young man was from Switzerland but has ridden Mount Palomar and Mount Baldy in Southern California, as I have. His friend, or girlfriend, was from Russia.

Airolo, Switzerland. Young Swiss man with his Russian girlfriend.

We did not have water in our bottles and would make a critical mistake. Seemingly water is free (and good) everywhere in Switzerland. We found a fountain in town but it was turned off. We found a second fountain and it too was off. What was up with that? We began the climb with no water.

Turning onto Tremola Road we faced a stretch of cobblestones. They were beautiful in design but require, of course, more effort. I had read about this climb once and thought there was 1-2 km of stone. Boy was I wrong. It was cobbled for all 14 km (9 miles) of the climb.

I had gotten sick midweek in Luxembourg and it was hanging on me. I was sick. My legs may have been dead from all the work too. I had nothing. Perhaps the answer would be revealed later.

We may have been 10 km in when I spotted a bathtub in a pasture with a pipe over it and cold running water. I asked Ben if we could drink the water coming out of the pipe and he said sure. We filled out bottles and it was good. The cows agreed.

Near the summit is a four-kilometer (2.5 miles) stretch of 24 hairpin turns (or switchbacks). Some riders were riding in the gutter, a paved concrete section that was smoother than cobbles, but when I tried it I found I was too tired to hold a straight line. I was afraid I would hit the curb and go down. I moved back to the cobbles.

At the summit, we found a restaurant. Many people were here, not just cyclists, although there were plenty of them too. I had told Ben that when I reach the top I only wanted a Coke. Two Cokes, actually. But I saw some kids eating pasta with a meat sauce and it looked delicious. I ordered it and it was. I would have eaten a local bratwurst too except there was too long of a line.

Ben was on his phone checking train schedules and the progress of the last stage of the Tour (actually, it had not yet started so we were checking estimated times of arrival). These races publish an estimated time, a fastest expected time, and the slowest expected time.

We decided we would follow the route and ride to Hospental where the course turned left, sharply. From there we could go right (or straight) to catch our train without being on course. But it would be tight to make the train depending on how fast the Tour de Suisse was riding.

I could not miss the train. My suitcase was in my bike bag. I was sick. I wanted to be on the first flight to the U.S. tomorrow. If I missed it I might be able to go to the hotel with my bike and the clothes on my back. Tomorrow I would have to go back to the main station and retrieve my stuff then get back to the airport, where I was staying, in time for my flight. The thought of managing this was blowing my mind.

We finished eating and on the initial descent, I had hit 75 kpm (47 mph). Had I been riding and displaying miles I would have hit 50 mph. Or tried. But my mind and computer display were in kilometers. In Hospental we had found our position on the corner and waited for the Tour de Suisse to come by. After an hour, it did, with Hugh Carthy (EF-Education First) with solo breakaway and a 2:00 lead which he would hold to the end.

It was here that my bike was in the wrong gear to start, having descended in a 50:11. I decided to change gears by hand cranking the bike which is when I saw it. When I spun the wheel it went a few revolutions then stopped. The brake pad had been rubbing on the wheel. No wonder it was so hard climbing. All the jostling of bikes probably caused it but I should have checked it in Airolo.

As soon as part of the peloton had come through, we planned our escape. Ben said it would be 32 km and we had one hour. We would have to average 20 mph and would have no time for stops. That would normally be a very tough ask but we also knew the road went downhill.

However, we did not plan for a headwind – a vicious headwind. Ben did better on the climb, much better, than me but was having a problem with the wind. I took the lead most of the way and let him sit in my draft.

We went through Andermatt, a beautiful mountain town. And then for the next 20 km, the scenery just would not stop. Unfortunately, neither could I. We didn’t have time.

We were riding through Schöllenen Grorge. We saw a white water river (upper Reuss) with the glacier turquoise water blasting down through small canyons under stone arch bridges. The scenery was breathtaking. But we knew not to stop, and besides, by the time we saw the perfect place we were already 200 meters past it and would have to turn around.

We kept the speed up and Ben made one final check – seven km to go (4.2 miles). And we had 20 minutes. I knew an easy day I could do those in 16 minutes. Of course, we would have to get to the station and find the right track. I rattled off each K-to-go and we pulled in with 10 minutes to spare.

Old train in Wassen

Ben was worried about this train as it might be full of cyclists from earlier stops. If we missed it we would miss getting my luggage from the train station. It was a train where no reservation was needed or apparently accepted. Just first-come, first-served. Look for empty bike hooks, and we guessed right for the car.

What a day. It was my most beautiful day on a bike. I’ve never seen anything like that from Andermatt to Wassen. And going up, wasn’t as scenic but it was epic – a 14 km climb on cobblestones. Wow!

EPILOGUE – June 25, 2019. I was at the doctor’s office and had a very bad bronchial infection. She examined me and asked if I was exhausted. I pulled out my phone and showed her Tremola Road.

“Well, two days ago I biked up this 9-mile cobblestone road in Switzerland. Then I went 24 hours without sleep.”

She replied, “I take that as a yes.”

Of the great climbs I have done, many or all call for a do-ever. But none more than this one. I was sick and weak the day I climbed this and want to go back healthy. It’s more than Strava times. The scenery from Hospental to Andermatt is beyond description. I want to ride it without worrying about a train to catch.

November 21, 2018August 21, 2020

Horrible Hundred

CLERMONT, FLORIDA

It was a beautiful morning. I parked and then rolled up to the flagpole at the start. I waited to meet my friend and former colleague, John Dockins. We met and were joined by another former colleague, Joe Berezo.

I saw a rider wearing a cancer ride jersey and went over and talked to him. Actually, there were two Florida riders who had ridden with Team Portland this summer. It was nice to say hello and they apprecieated someone knowing what their jerseys were from.

When we rolled out we started up a hill and John took off. I went with him and it would be the last we would see Joe. We found some riders and I told John we should avoid “putting our noses into the wind” for a while. I did. John didn’t. John was about 300-400 yards ahead of me but I never wanted to chase. I also knew I would be going into the red to catch him. I waited until Rest Stop 1.

We refueled and waited for Joe. After 15 minutes and not finding Joe, we decided it was time to roll out. And just like that, John was gone again. At one point I passed a rider I met yesterday who looked to be struggling. I turned around to see if I could shepherd her but couldn’t find her.

At Rest Stop #2 we met Robin from yesterday. “You look familiar,” she said before stating “It’s Barry from Virginia.” “I didn’t recognize you without your helmet.”

Robin – same kit as yesterday. Or same picture? Hmmm.

And it is true. You can ride all day with someone and you recognize them only on the bike, their bike, wearing their kit of the day. Robin had a different kit and was off her bike. And I was wearing the cookies as I had promised.

I enjoyed wearing the Cookie kit. One rider passed me and yelled out “Hi Phil!” Just as a friendly reminder there is a 50 pound weight differential between us and he was passing me. I am not Phil Gaimon although it was great one rider recognized the cookie kit. Or maybe three.

The big decision today was distance. Mostly the 70 mile and 100 mile routes were the same except at “decision time” one would need to add a 30-mile loop. Joe was going to ride 70 (or less). John doesn’t have many miles this year and was going to ride 70. John’s son, Matt, and his fiance’, Pauline, were riding 70. It seemed all the cool kids were riding 70. With a drive to Savannah today, I did not mind not riding 100.

We would make the turn towards home but not without Sugarloaf Mountain looming large. There were some walkers and some stopped. The climb is hard but nothing like Gibraltar Road, Mount Baldy, or Palomar Mountain, the latter two which are measured in hours and I rode three weeks ago. I was 30 seconds faster today than two years ago and I have no idea how.

The ride into the finish features one last pain-inducing climb followed by a nice descent. I missed the memo of a sprint finish and some riders went flying by. It’s a ride, not a race.

At lunch we met a rider from yesterday’s bakery ride with more insight on the crash. He said he was riding at the front and a rider braked to take a natural break. He was from Clermont and told us that the locals never ride those hills we rode today. We also saw Matt and Pauline and waited for Joe – only to learn he had cut his ride short to get back to Tampa.

Soon my friends dispersed and I was left alone. Sort of wished I would head back on course to get 100 miles but also knew I had a long drive ahead to Savannah.

October 28, 2018August 21, 2020

Sugar Cookie

CAMARILLO, CALIFORNIA

If I wanted breakfast at the hotel, and that is my favorite part of staying at a Hilton Garden Inn, I would be unable to make the earlier routes. And I already skipped breakfast once on this trip; that was before the World Hillclimb Championships. I wanted breakfast today.

After a great breakfast I headed back almost to Oxnard where I stayed Thursday. The Phil’s Cookie Fondo was departing from an air strip in Camarillo. The temperature dropped, it was 55^o. Fog had moved in although 10 miles into the ride we would see the sun.

The Sugar Cookie is our shortest route, but don’t think it’ll be easy. It starts up Potrero Road: where you’ll pray around every turn that the climb will be over. Cruise along the top of Sycamore Canyon and the quiet horse farms of Hidden Valley, and then you’ll face the short climb up Decker Canyon from Westlake. Survive that, and you’ve earned a fun descent down Mulholland Highway to to the Pacific, and a flat run to a Michelin-star lunch at the finish.

Foggy and a little wet, we rolled together for seven and one half miles and then saw it – the Potero Road climb. Immediately I could see people walking their bikes. My legs were tired from the previous four days of climbing. I wasn’t sure about this – except I was. There would be no walking or stopping.

Cyclists walking their bikes on Portero Road

The only reason I would stop would be for a photo op but it’s hard to capture the grade of a climb in a photo. I would want to take one of the number of people walking or had stopped but I did not.

I never thought about quitting. Sometimes it was head down and looking only at the front wheel. Looking up for the end was too disheartening.

This is where I missed my heart rate monitor. I would have liked to see what it was pegging out as. And not so much at the time, I could feel that, but after the ride. I climbed the 2.5 miles in 20 minutes which felt like forever on some of the grades. Still I probably passed 100 riders stopped or walking, maybe 10 who were riding, and was passed by about 10.

After Rest Stop One, there was another climb. While it wasn’t so bad; the visual was awful. Ahead and off to the right I could see this awful fencing of a horse farm. It looked like gnarly switchbacks but thankfully the road did not go there.

After Rest Stop Two we had to face Westlake Blvd. It was a little shorter, two miles, also had a number of people walking but I saw far fewer than the first climb probably because those people hadn’t reached this climb yet.

The reward was reaching Mulholland Highway which was a mountainous, curvy, beautiful eight mile descent to the Pacific Ocean. Much of the time I was in the mountains and really didn’t have great views, or any, of the ocean until reaching the Pacific Coast Highway.

Turning on the PCH, there was a shoulder most of the way. And a wicked cross wind which at times was a head wind. I passed riders, especially those who were doing a family ride, out and back. I slowly caught, Brittany, from San Diego, a 20-something. I told her I was passing her, slowly, and she jumped on my wheel. For the next 18 miles.

I was head down in the wind and she held on until about five miles to go and I saw I dropped her. I then waited and backed off the pace. Brittany told me she signed up for the ride because of chocolate chip cookies. She never heard of Phil Gaimon so I filled her in.

Finishing the ride I told her I would introduce her to Phil. We parked our bikes in the coral and a few minutes later she got hers and told me she was taking her stuff to her car and she’d be back. I never saw her again.

Phil’s assistant laughed at me. Or laughed with me. I told her I have been stood up by better people. And she didn’t get to meet Phil.

With tired legs, yesterday convinced me to go short today. But the 50 mile route was hard, at least 17 miles of it. But that meant, surprisingly, I was back before Phil and some other pros who had ridden the 85 miles route.

Toms Skujins had come over to me and introduced himself last evening and when he came in I went for the photo op. I got one of the other guys to take it. Tom told me selfies were for 12 year-olds. Then another fan came up and took a selfie with him.

Tom told me he heard that I had been through a lot. Wow. Now I wonder what Phil told him. We talked head injuries. I had crashed out at 25 kph and was unconscious, he had crashed in the Amgen Tour of California going 70 kph and tried to remount. That, and we both ride a Trek (he rides for Trek-Segafredo) are the only things we have in common.

I had come to this Fondo as a bucket list item. A one-and-done. After today, I would like to come back.

October 27, 2018August 21, 2020

Chocolate Chip Cookie

AGOURA HILLS, CALIFORNIA

This is Phil’s Cookie Fondo. As I write this I have a fresh huge chocolate chip cookie on my hotel’s nightstand that I will never eat. But this was a bike ride with the Chocolate Chip and Sugar Cookie routes today. Tomorrow is the main event and will have the Double Fudge route, a whooping 117 miles and the Mini Chip rides as well as more Chocolate Chip and Sugar Cookie rides.

As soon as I went through check-in, I saw Phil Gaimon, complete with his Cookie Monster head. He called out my name and we got a quick photo. I first met Phil 10 years ago at the Mount Washington Auto Road Hillclimb and he has never forgotten. (Think on that)

We had a police escort for the first 3-4 miles. Not really sure when they peeled off. The group of about 100 riders stayed mostly together for a while and I was comfortable sitting in. Around five miles I decided I wasn’t going to keep up the pace we had been traveling.

I climbed Palomar Mountain on Wednesday, Mount Baldy on Thursday, Gibraltar Road yesterday. My legs were dead. And there would be climbing on this ride. I didn’t try to keep up. Besides, I can’t take pictures while I’m in the group.

It was a beautiful route but it wasn’t flat. Topanga Canyon was nice but oh, that climb. We would climb 6,000′ in 48 miles.

Volunteer (from Washington) at Rest Stop Two

The longer route for Phil’s Fondo Bonus Day goes over the peaceful Old Topanga Canyon into Fernwood. Take a break on the climb because it’s steep, but tell your friends you just had to get that the photo of the beautiful view of LA. Enjoy a cookie and another amazing photo op at Saddle Peak before you descent Piuma back to the expo.

At Mile 21 in we turned up. The road was a residential area but it was a climb. It would be a five-mile climb. Countless times it looked like the hill would crest. You could see the top of the hill and dreamed of the descent that waited over the hill. But arriving at “the top” the road would turn and keep climbing. And you could see more hill. Repeat. I didn’t research this climb and don’t know that it would have made any difference.

The views from Saddle Peak were gorgeous. The road we took looked like it would take us to the ocean and I think it would have taken us down to the Pacific Coast Highway. But after a mile and one half descent we turned back and began the climb back up (damn him). I thought we would go back to where we had been but the map shows we did not repeat our route in this area.

It was hot. Garmin showed 90° although it may have only been 88°. Rest stop one I ate a cookie. Rest stop two I ate a cookie. I did not take on more water because I had 1/2 bottle and it was ice cold. Topping it off would take off the chill. Although the next stop was eight miles away, five of it was uphill. I ran out of water.

I drank and refilled (with ice) at rest stop three. And it didn’t last me long. I was glad to get to stop four which was a repeat of stop one. And that bottle certainly didn’t last long.

My legs are tired. During the second half of this ride, I made the decision not to do the full Chocolate Chip ride (88 miles) tomorrow. When I got back I asked a woman how her ride was. She said “horrible.” She told me she was going to ride to the beach tomorrow.

She had come from Dallas and I thought it was a little silly to make the trip then ride the baby route (30 miles). But today’s ride would make you do that. I did understand.

Nice backdrop for taking pictures of your favorite girl

This evening I went to a reception. Phil gave me a hug (is he ever skinny). I showed him our first picture and he told me that he remembers what I told him at Mount Washington ten years ago. Toms Skujins, a rider from Trek – Segafredo (Latvia), came over and introduced himself. How refreshing.

Barry and Phil, Mount Washington, New Hampshire, Aug. 15, 2009

I am planning do ride the Sugar Cookie route for tomorrow. It’s 50 miles but with not as much climbing as today. My legs are shot and I know it. And the cookie sits uneaten.

October 26, 2018August 28, 2020

Hillclimb World Championships

SANTA BARBARA, CALIFORNIA

Sometime this week I had a dumb idea. Or three. Ride Palomar. Ride Baldy. Ride the Hillclimb World Championships. On three consecutive days.

If I was serious about putting up a good time I would not have ridden Palomar Mountain and Mount Baldy the day before the championships. Those climbs take everything out of you. But here I was.

My day started at 5:30 a.m. and I went to breakfast at the Homewood Suites in Oxnard at 6:00 a.m. Except breakfast was at 6:30 a.m. So I went to Santa Barbara without breakfast, worried more about checking in on time and not missing my start time.

Got my number on and timing chip on my fork

While serious cyclists warmed up on trainers, many of us seemed to ride on East Cabrillo Avenue. When your group was called we had a police escort for about five miles to the beginning of the climb. I would think that’s enough of a warm up.

I lined up with 11 other cyclists; 10 men and one woman. I didn’t say a word to anyone. Someone asked me if I had ridden this before and I told him I hadn’t. Okay, one word (no). He told me had once before. I didn’t ask him about his experience. Or ask for advice. I wasn’t too conversational.

We rolled out with a police escort and at first I was in the middle of the group. But the road turned up and I decided I wasn’t going to keep their pace before the actual climb began. And I’m sure Baldy and Palomar had something to do with it. A gap developed and I was in the second group of two. And then they passed me and I was by myself. I was dropped before the race began.

There was a guy on a hybrid bike and I was sure I’d see him on the climb. I didn’t. Groups were staged every 15 minutes. The first group was 70+ and Clydesdales (190 lbs). When I registered I could have registered as a Clydesdale but was hoping I weighed less than 190 by today. It wasn’t arrogance that I refused to register as a Clydesdale but wishful thinking. I was in the second group (ages 60-69).

Behind us was the 50-59 group and behind them was the 40-49 group. By the time I reached the official start I had already climbed 1,000 feet. Talk about a warm up.

The route is beautiful. I had thought about stopping for a photo op but decided to keep the phone/camera in the pocket. I thought I was about two minutes behind my group but I would never see them today. Any of them. Even the guy on the hybrid. And the two tandems.

Got passed by the guy in the Speedo. Our ad for VeloGuide. (Believe his name is Pat.)

Then it was ride at my own pace and wait to be caught. It was a 10 km climb and about 6 km to go the first of the fast 50s went by. Pretty much 27 of their 28 riders passed me. Without about 3km to go the fast 40s came by. Looks like 15 of their 24 that started 30 minutes behind me caught me (although all had better times).

I was suffering. Too much climbing the past two days. No breakfast. I was pretending I was in the early break and was called back to wait for my team leader. One can dream.

It was hard. I never thought of quitting but I didn’t have the power and have too much weight. My power to weight ratio is skewed towards weight.

I was passed by men. By women. By a guy on an ElliptiGO. By a woman on an upright cargo bike (although I think she had an electric motor and she wasn’t racing). By a guy wearing only a Speedo.

After I finished, there wasn’t much to do at the top. No activities were at the finish line. Just turn around and descend. I took my time descending. I was recording some riders and wanting to see the pro men. I thought there would be a moto escort so I was surprised to put my phone down after taking some photos and look up and see Phil Gaimon and Peter Stetina flying around the corner uphill.

Now I am left to reflect. If your goal is winning then only Phil was a winner today. Or Phil and Aimee Vasse if you want winner by genders. We are all losers. Some second losers. Some, like me, 175th loser. DFL. In the world.

I am also reminded that I didn’t try and failed. You only fail if you don’t try. (Things losers say)

I rode because I could. Because seven months ago I could not pedal. Because five months ago I woke up in Ohio with no clue how I got there. Because nine years ago I was battling cancer and every day is a blessing so do something epic. And ego more than anything kept me from registering as a Clydesdale. Who wants to admit you are carrying too much weight? But if I had, I would have finished on the podium. Damn me.

From Phil Gaimon (Facebook Page). Credit: John Mahoney

ABOUT GILBRATAR ROAD (from The Complete Guide to Climbing, John Summerson, 2007)

Total Elevation: 3,560′ (1,085 m)
Length: 10.2 miles (16.42 km)
Average Grade: 6.6% (11%)
Rating: 2.40 (Cat 1)
100 Toughest US Climbs: #57

Gibraltar Road is a difficult and scenic climb with great views of the Channel Islands out in the Pacific Ocean. In Santa Barbara, take Mountain Dr. up the hill and stay on Mountain Dr. by turning left at the reservoir. After another 2/10th of a mile turn right on Gibraltar R. which takes you all the way to the top along a very twisty route. The top is along poor pavement and the climb ends (unmarked) by the building with antennas on your left.

The actual race was contested on:
Total Distance: 6.14 miles (9.88 km)
Total Elevation Gain: +2,593′ (790.35 m)
Avg Grade: 8%

EDIT/EPILOGUE – These were “open” championships, i.e., no qualifying necessary. One needed only to sign up and ride. I had met Phil Gaimon, the organizer, 10 years earlier at Mount Washington, New Hampshire. I had been diagnosed with cancer and his dad was dying of cancer. It’s not that we kept in touch over his pro cycling career but he contacted me in the summer and asked if I would “race” in the World Championships. My only condition is that I was permitted to finish – a DFL was okay, a DNF was not. And the way the race was structured, this would be no problem.

I had been diagnosed with an adrenal gland tumor and my endocrinologist told me that would affect my metabolism. I was gaining weight in part because of this tumor and in part because cancer took my prostate and my body was not producing testosterone anymore. But mostly because I liked to eat.

I had knee replacement surgery in February, a traumatic brain injury in May, and was overweight. I did not belong but dammit, Phil asked me to register. So I did. The adrenal tumor and prostate cancer are not excuses – just challenges. And I will (have) overcome those to be in my normal weight range for my height. Bring back the Worlds and I will ride again but next time I can’t register as a Clydesdale.

Riders waiting for the police escort start

October 6, 2018October 7, 2021

Sea Gull Century

SALISBURY, MARYLAND

Another edition of the Sea Gull Century. It was rainy on the drive in from Ocean City. I found parking at Asbury United Methodist Church although I thought I was still on campus at the time. It was only a problem after the ride when I saw a church and thought that looked like where I parked except I didn’t park at a church. Except I did.

I rolled out to get to the start line which was 3/4 of a mile away. The first group to start was supposed to be pace lines and “other fast riders” although there seemed to be a lot of people at the start waiting for a signal. Probably waiting for friends.

I moved on to the porta-johns, thanks to last night’s pasta loading. There was a loop recording playing stating this was a SHOW AND GO START so when I was done, I went.

I decided not to join any pacelines today and just ride solo. I worked my way past some slow riders and within a couple of miles I was “sitting in” with three other guys. We weren’t tearing up the course; just riding sensibly. The route was safe but crowded. A squirrel could have jumped rider to rider for 10 miles and never touched the ground. It would have also been very tired.

One of the few intersections we did not get waved through by police (who were Great!)

We were passed by a couple of HUGE pacelines. They were flying, probably 30 mph, and must have had close to one hundred riders in each. It was too sketchy for me. I tried it last year for a mile and thought I didn’t know these riders, they’re not professional bike handlers, and one touch of wheels would be disaster. In addition, my knee has been hurting since the Jeremiah Bishop Gran Fondo on Sunday and I didn’t want to push it.

Just over that dune is – the Atlantic Ocean

I went by Rest Stop 1 and eventually was solo. The group I was in and was riding a sensible pace started to break up into ones and twos and was a little too slow for me. I started passing some people and came upon two riders side by side with one woman following. My pace was a bit faster and as I passed the woman I saw a jersey with Colorado climbs. I slowed to talk.

The jersey was from the Bicycle Tour of Colorado. The rider, Sandra, told me she was with two guys but they weren’t going to wait for her. She seemed mentally to be struggling with the thought of today’s century. And she would become my ride partner for the day although I didn’t know it at the time. We rode 3-4 miles to Rest Stop 2 (I had blown by Rest 1). She caught up with her friends at the stop and after I filled my water bottles I looked but she was already gone.

I didn’t think too much of it. We hadn’t ridden together much and after meeting her friends I thought maybe they would pace her. Plus I had bigger problems. My Garmin showed 0.0 miles. Somehow it had reset. I didn’t know what happened to the data (44 miles) and was disappointed that my data might show 60 miles instead of 100.

I rolled out from the rest stop and was riding solo passing some riders and thought I should slow down, let a group pass me, then jump in. And I did that. A group of about 10 rolled by and I latched on. We soon caught Sandra who was up the road riding solo, and I told her that this group was her speed. She joined us. We rolled together to Assateague where she met her friends and introduced me to Greg and her other friend (who has no name).

Greg asked me if I was pacing her and I told her I was. Or he asked if I was waiting for her. So the four of us rolled out of Assateague together. Greg set a pace and when it got too fast for Sandra I would drop back with her. Eventually, a fast paceline came by and Greg jumped in with them. That left me to pace Sandra and soon, 10 others.

Stock photo from Internet;
I was passed by one of these today.

I kept my eye on Sandra and when I got the pace too high, I would back it off. I thought someone, anyone, from the 10 riders on my wheel would come forward but none did. This is the Sea Gull Century where everyone wants a free ride. I’m not complaining, I did that for the first half of the ride. I even purposely slowed the pace thinking it would be too slow for someone and they would come up and pick up the pace. None did. So I towed them all the way to the Rest at MP 80.

When we left there we rode together. Again, Greg was with us then he went when he found a faster group to jump in with. Sandra and I rode sometimes side by side and she expressed amazement that I was just chatting and she said she was struggling. She asked me just to pull her, which I did. (Insinuating, just pull and shut up – LOL)

Sandra entering the finishing underground at Salisbury U.

We pulled into the finish line together. I showed her the “actual” finish and she said, “I’m good.” And then she left. No goodbyes. No thanking me for pacing her for most of the ride. It’s not like I wanted her phone number (she was my kids’ age) but no goodbye. It just seemed like an odd and disappointing way to end. I found the pie and ice cream and found my way back to my car.

I had a good ride. My knee, which had been hurting, wasn’t hurting too bad. Even backing off my pace to ensure Sandra would reach the finish, I was happy with my total time. And then I checked Garmin and saw the missing data was there, saved in a separate ride. I would go to a site called gotoes.org which could take two rides and put them together as one. I did. It worked. One long ride.

The rain in Ocean City at 6:00 a.m. had dried up by the start. It was overcast most of the day with just a brief bit of sunshine. Leaving Assateague we had a bit of “spitting” rain but nothing to make us wet. Occasionally the roads were wet but the overcast kept the temperature in the low 70s and made for a pleasant ride.

And while I may be playing the hero for helping Sandra, in truth, she helped me. I hadn’t done a ride longer than 80 miles this year and my rebuilt knee was hurting. Helping her was really helping me. And she helped me to a great ride.

And some things we talked about:

Ride the Rockies no longer has a lottery but is first-come-first-served
RAGBRAI is mostly a camping event
Trek Travel is a great touring company – go to France
Hot Shot stops cramps
Watch the 2018 UCI World Championships, especially the Jr. Men and Jr. Women’s Races
Phil Gaimon and The Worst Retirement Ever

September 25, 2016September 26, 2016

Alpine Loop Gran Fondo

HARRISONBURG, VIRGINIA

I am sore and hurting. Not from a crash but from being so out of shape for an event. Including the time I stayed in Pennsylvania after my father died, I was two weeks without a bike ride leading up to the Jeremiah Bishop Alpine Loop Gran Fondo. If that wasn’t bad enough, yesterday I refereed a couple of soccer matches – something I haven’t done since April or May. My legs were sore going in.

Maybe it was a culmination of things. During my dad’s final days I did three all-nighter’s with him, one time staying awake 42 straight hours and sleeping just two in 62 hours. Last night we went to Andrew’s hockey game and I didn’t get to sleep until 1:30 a.m. and was up at 4:45 a.m. Clearly I was suffering from not enough rest.

I arrived in Harrisonburg and went to the front of the line as a prostate cancer survivor and supporter of the Prostate Cancer Awareness Project. There I met Joe Dombrowski, of Cannondale-Drapec for perhaps, the fourth straight year. I was able to ask him about contracts for next year for Ben King and Phil Gaimon. He said Ben has (or will have) a contract. He doesn’t know about Phil. It’s a tough business.

I also met Jeremiah Bishop at the start. His wife, Erin, came over and gave me a hug. Neither of us knew if I would make the start today. Robert Hess, of the Prostate Cancer Awareness Project, also came over to greet me.

We rolled out at 8:00 a.m. It was a ceremonial roll out. Two miles in as we turned off US 33 onto Eversole Road I was briefly at the front. I did not position myself here and did not want to be here. My legs felt like crap and I wanted to ride easy with no pressure, certainly not wheel to wheel with the main peleton. When I saw a safe place to exit I bailed out and let the main group pass.

I also had a reason to doing that. My heart rate monitor wasn’t reading and I wanted to see how high it was as I was pushing it. I adjusted it and it was recorded 35. Then it was zero. Guess the battery is shot.

When I jumped on I was pretty much at the end of the Alpine Loop and Century riders. The timed section of the Shenandoah mountain climb seemed to start at a different location than in the past (I didn’t ride this route last year). When I passed the bridge over Dry Run I started my timer.

On the climb I passed some (eight) and was passed by some (seven). In the past in this position (near the end of the main group) I did much better. Crossing the top I looked at my time and knew it was bad. RidewithGPS has a segment for this climb and confirmed what I knew: This was the worst of my five timed climbs on this route.

Going over the top was sweet. I can still get down the mountain pretty fast. I passed many and was passed by no one. My top speed was 46 mph. Would have liked higher but it was a technical descent. I blew by the first aid station and joined up with a line of riders in the valley. It wasn’t really a pace line because one guy was doing all the pulling and there were six or seven of us getting a free ride. And he didn’t mind.

Big Rock Dairy on the "Loop" — Big Rock Dairy on the “Loop”

The second climb was Reddish Knob. Like the first, it was my worst time recorded except for the first year when it was a dirt climb. So worst on pavement. But a good descent.

Leaving the third aid station I came to the moment of truth. I had been thinking all day I would skip the 27 mile loop and ride on home making it a 77 mile day. I came to the loop. I turned onto it.

Near Stokesville Lodge - I think — Near Stokesville Lodge – I think

The loop was nice but I was all alone. I stopped for a picture then was passed by three women. I first thought about joining them but that may have been creepy and I was worried I would not keep up. I let them go. I was passed by a guy who told me to grab his wheel. I declined and then as he pulled away I caught up to him I told him my dad died last week and this was a day for me to just ride by myself. He understood.

Then I came to it. The John Deere tractor. My dad’s favorite. He loved his Chevrolet, John Deere, and Arnold Palmer. And I would learn later that Arnie died today.

The loop ended at the same aid station (#3). A brief stop and I was off to ride the last segment. And there was a timed climb on Mole Hill. I told the guy at the timing station I hated him. (I was kidding, of course. I think.)

The day was cloudy and cool, around 60 degrees, all day. It never warmed up. I wore arm warmers and needed them, except for the climbs in which I sweated my butt off. At the end, I saw Robert again, but still not feeling great, headed for home. I even skipped the meal.

It was a day of suffering. I think the circumstances leading up to it made it much worse than it should have been. But a bad day on a bike is better than a good day on the couch.

August 15, 2009August 3, 2021

Mount Washington Auto Road Bicycle Hillclimb

Just standing on Mount Washington’s slopes in New Hampshire, which may be the toughest climb on earth, generates a sense of excitement and a bit of fear as you anticipate its difficulties. — The Complete Guide to Climbing (by bike), John Summerson

PINKHAM NOTCH, NEW HAMPSHIRE

This is a day that I thought would never come. Ever since I competed in Newton’s Revenge in 2008 I knew that I would be back. In fact, I planned to be back for Newton’s Revenge, the July race, in 2009.

But in May I broke my wrist in a crash and shortly thereafter got sick. I emailed Mary Power, the events director at the Mount Washington Auto Road to tell her I was still coming in July and she graciously offered a place in the August climb. I never envisioned that or I wouldn’t have contacted her. I wasn’t asking for a favor.

The illness continued and ultimately I was diagnosed with cancer. I pulled out of the August race but as the testing and diagnosis continued I made a deal with my doctor that I could ride no matter what. A few weeks would not make a difference in treatment. It would have to be delayed. And so the race was on.

It’s funny how cancer changes things. Last year my goals were simple:

Finish
Try not to be last
Don’t walk but that’s OK if I finish

But now I had performance numbers. So three months ago my goals were simple:

Beat last year’s time by 15-20 minutes

But then cancer came. And this year my goals were simple:

Finish
Try not to be last
Don’t walk but that’s OK if I finish

Actually, my new goal was even simpler:

Finish

Cancer will not win. I will.

What was to be a test to see if I could improve upon last year’s time simply became a new outlook on the race. I’m glad to be alive and glad to be here.

The view from 6 miles looking back at the starting line

“A few months ago, when I told a friend who once ran to the top of Mount Washington that I planned to enter the cycling race, he offered some advice. You will look for the top of the hill, he said. It is natural. It is human. But it will kill you. Don’t look up, he warned, because the top won’t come.” — Outside.online, Sept 2004

This was much different than my last two years. In 2007 (07/07/07) my daughter, Ashley, and I came to these mountains. We were grounded for two days due to severe weather at the summit and the race was canceled. But we had a great time here. Last year Ashley and her husband, Bryan, were waiting for me at the summit. That gave me special incentive to finish.

Bryan and Ashley at the Ellis River (2008)

This year I came to the mountain alone. There is peace here in the White Mountains. Ashley and I experienced it a couple of years ago just wading in the cold waters of the Ellis River. It was time I needed to get away from visiting doctors and spending hours online researching the best course of treatment for my cancer. I needed peace and I found it riding in the mountains and, yes, wading in the river again.

Barry wading in the Ellis River – with his bike

There aren’t many words harder to hear than “you’ve got cancer.” Your world just stops and one must find a way to get it going and back on track. I knew my fitness level couldn’t be where I wanted it to be. I actually had an e.Coli infection, possibly for months, leading up to the cancer diagnosis.

My time up the mountain no longer mattered. Just being here was a victory.

I came a few days early just to spend time in the mountains. On Wednesday I hoped to ride a 65-mile loop around the circumference of Mount Washington. Imagine that. Using the roads around Mount Washington, including some dirt roads, it still takes 65 miles to drive around its base. Instead, the weather prevented that and I rode Hurricane Mountain Road instead.

On Thursday I rode out to the Auto Road which was going to be part of my planned 65-mile ride. I met Mary Power and her new assistant, Kelly Evans. Kelly is from Beaver, Pa., near Pittsburgh, which is right across the river from where I went to high school.

Mary Power, Events Director at Mt. Washington Auto Road

It is not the longest climb, the steepest climb, nor the climb with the greatest elevation gain. It is simply the climb that is the steepest for the longest distance. Couple this with above timberline scenery that is unworldly and weather that is unpredictable and you begin to understand Mount Washington’s attraction to cyclist climbers. — New York Cycle Club, 2003

When I checked-in yesterday I met two young men from Seattle, Tommy Jerome and Ryan Burke. Tommy came to ride the mountain and Ryan came as his driver. As we talked over our pasta dinner in a tent, we decided to team up. Ryan would drive up the mountain as our driver and Tommy and I would be the cyclists which would get us up the mountain toll-free. Neither of them had been here before and appreciated any advice, even if it was wrong, that I could give them.

There was a race this day. The race announcer made it a point to let everyone know that there was an actual race up the mountain with race tactics. Phil Gaimon, Ned Overend, and Kevin Nicol battled all the way up the mountain before Phil pulled away to win by 16 seconds (54:37). It sounds like Phil pulled away by 50 yards around Mile 5 and Ned could never close it.

Phil finished second to Anthony Colby in the Newton’s Revenge race last summer but came back to win the August MWARBH. Phil rides for Jelly Belly Cycling. Ned is a former mountain bike world champion who at age 53 is, well, just 16 seconds behind one of the best climbers in the country.

For the rest of us, we were competing against the mountain or a personal best. Or in my case, just happy to be here.

With a staggered start time and being in the last group, I wondered how crowded the road might get with 500 riders ahead of me. Not at all since they were all faster. I did worry that I might come upon some slow riders going side to side on the road (paperboying) but never encountered any of that. Just once, in the first mile, did I feel stuck behind riders but simply announced I was coming between two riders. There was no other time that I felt anyone was in the way.

The biggest logistical problem of having 600 riders is parking at the top of the mountain. But there is an incentive to take fewer cars to the top. A car needed a ticket from a rider to gain entrance to the top on Saturday but if they had two tickets the toll was waived. At registration, they have an area set aside for drivers to offer rides down and for riders looking for a ride down. Or, as I did, you can just meet them at the pre-race pasta dinner.

I was worried about coming to the mountain without having a ride down. I shouldn’t have been. I actually connected via the forums with a couple other riders before registration but once I met Tommy and Ryan I decided to connect with them instead. But only after making sure I didn’t mess up the plans for my original group.

At Newton’s Revenge last year I casually milled around and watched each group go before ours then moved in line to the back of our group. At MWARBH we were positioned in our groups five minutes before the Top Notch riders took off. And since my group was 20 minutes behind them, I lost any benefit of a warm up by standing in line at the start line 25 minutes before our race began.

I was in the last group of the five groups to go and was pretty far back but not dead last. There is a dead flat section of 150 yards before the climb begins. We hit the hill and the climb began.

I do not remember the first two miles being so steep last year although last year I was out of the saddle (standing) within the first 1/2 mile or so. This year I was able to remain seated for the first two miles. I spent many hours on a trainer working on form to be able to do this.

More than once during those first two miles I thought of abandoning. Last year my back hurt and I assumed that climbing 12-15% grades out of the saddle hurt the back. But my back hurt even while seated. Tommy told me how much his back hurt on the ride. And how quickly he came out of the saddle.

In anticipation of the pain, I took a couple of Advil’s and also popped in some Tums (cramping). I didn’t have any problems with cramping and the back pain was minimal, at least compared to last year. Well, all pain was minimal compared to last year.

Because I started so far back I was passed by only a few, very few, but did pass many riders. Some of them were riding but many were walking. I tried not to look up the road because it is disheartening to see riders stopped or quitting.

But seeing riders pushing their bikes doesn’t have to be completely deflating. I started to make it a game. I no longer worried that the mountain was punishing and would soon punish me in the same manner. Instead, a walker became a target. Someone to pass. So I started to relish the sight of someone pushing their bike. It wasn’t easy catching a rider up the road but it was easy catching a walker.

Sometime after three miles the thought of abandoning or even walking left my mind. And my mind turned to finishing today and coming back next year.

The dirt section was scary. I tried to get through the entire section seated since I crashed last year when I stood. This year there was a very nasty crash ahead of me. A rider went down hard and was down right on the edge of a steep drop. I immediately called for “MEDIC!” behind me hoping the call would go back down the road to a radio communications operator who was sitting at the beginning of the section. Soon other riders picked up my call and I heard them relay the call for “MEDIC!” The call, which I had started, made it back down to the radioman. A medic soon came down from the summit on an ATV to assist. I never found out what happened to the man.

I was conflicted as to whether to stop or not. Getting restarted going uphill in this 12-16% dirt section was almost impossible. Plus I would have no clue on how to assist an injured rider, other than to keep him from rolling off the road to his death. But as I approached he was swearing at one rider who was trying to assist him so that made my decision easy. The thought of beating last year’s time never entered my mind.

Not far behind me was Aneeka Reed, a 16-year-old from Vermont. They teased the old group (45+) by putting juniors (under 20) with us. I think she started ahead of me and I passed her at some point. But at Mile 4 she came up in between another rider and me. I turned to her and asked, in a sarcastic tone, “What do you think this is, a race?”

She was holding her back. We talked briefly and over the next couple of miles, we were in contact and then not in contact. She would catch me on the lesser grades (12%) and I was more powerful on the steeper grades (16-18%). Her goal was to finish without stopping. I liked this kid.

I mentioned to her the dirt section which is when she told me she had never been on the road before. I was hoping she knew when it began. Heck, I was hoping she was going to tell me there was no dirt section that they finally paved it over.

Aneeka Reed with her parents. She finished without stopping and won the U20 Women’s Category

On the back of this year’s “I Biked Mt Washington” bumper sticker is some information including “35% hard pack dirt and 65% paved.” Well, it’s not 35% dirt – much less, but the 65% paved isn’t far from the truth. Imagine what a Mount Washington winter will do to asphalt. The road is generally in below average to poor shape with cracked and grooved pavement and some places where the asphalt has buckled.

We’re not crazy. The one person who is crazy was the unicyclist. I caught him in the first mile when we had to go over a buckled section in the road while ascending at 14% grade. My bike went over it fine but his single wheel didn’t. He crashed pretty hard. But much of the time I was riding on pavement I was looking for the best pavement which was hard to find at times.

Climbing around Mile 2 – Credit: Mary Power

Like many riders, I did not carry any bike tools, extra tubes, or a spare pump with me. Didn’t need the weight. Towards the end of the dirt section, I felt like I wasn’t going anywhere. Damn! A flat. I knew there wasn’t much I could do except to ride it out. So I decided to keep riding until I couldn’t go farther. And then I would run the rest of the way pushing the bike.

One big difference from last year is that I remember talking in the first mile and then just breathing heavily the rest of the way. I had no energy to talk. But this year I had more than enough energy to talk. I instructed a tandem to go “mark the 10-year-old” so he didn’t get away (he did), asked riders if they needed a cue sheet, told a guy who was in real difficulty to drop back to the team car and bring us drinks, asked rhetorically if the road averaged 12% grade why my GPS never went under 12.

That question got one tired rider to respond by steering off the roadway into the ditch. It’s hard to maintain focus when one is so tired and he was tired and I broke his focus. My bad. Thankfully, this was on the inside of the road so he dropped 12″ – 18″ inches into a ditch. Had it been on the outside of the road he would have dropped 50-100 feet. At least.

I wanted to stop and help him. But I couldn’t. This was on a 14% grade and getting restarted was nearly impossible. I saw one rider coming back towards us and thought he took his “paperboying” to an extreme. But then it dawned on me that he stopped and to get going he started down the hill to get clipped in and then turned around to start climbing.

At Milepost 6 a volunteer announced it was Mile 6. I asked her if that meant there were six miles to go. Then smiled. I obviously wasn’t pushing hard enough. But it didn’t matter. I was glad to be on the mountain and was enjoying myself.

The curve at Mile 6 is nasty. I didn’t remember how steep it was, I’m thinking 18%, but it presented no problem. The 22% climb to the finish was still steep but I never thought I might stop and fall over which I believed would happen last year.

I just had to concentrate on the road and appreciated all the people cheering. That’s pretty cool.

Well, maybe it was a little bit hard at the end but was in no danger of falling over or running the photographer over like I almost did last year.

Kelly Evans, Beaver, Pa., cheering me on at the finish line

In fact I was smiling at the finish line.

Last year I collapsed at the finish line. I said “never again!” I gave it everything I had. My legs were like Jello for the next couple of days. What I take out of this experience is how close I was to total exhaustion last year. I thought that every rider crossing the finish line was grabbed by four people but I think that was reserved for me for last year. I really gained an appreciation for how much effort I used last year.

I feel now that I could do the race again tomorrow. Clearly, even though I shaved five minutes off last year’s time, I didn’t give it my all. Oh well — I left myself room for improvement for next year.

In cyclists’ terms, I am not a climber. It’s power to weight ratio and I will never be in the top 10-20 or 30% of the elite racers. Maybe not even top 50%. But I like to climb. What an incredible feeling to reach the summit of the toughest hillclimb in the world.

My time over last year did improve by 5 minutes – to 1:46. Last year I was in the 82 percentile or better than 18% of the racers. This year I was at 68% – better than 32%or right at the edge of the two-thirds line. But still way below the line.

Still enough energy to life my bike. Barely.

My heart rate 158 avg/ 177 max was 2 beats faster this year than last year (156/175). And I didn’t worry about it. I never felt in distress. But I forgot to turn off my Garmin when I reached the finish line so it shows an extra two minutes. Oh well. There’s so much happening at the finish that it’s hard to remember everything. I bet if I had turned it off my heart rate would have been at least another beat higher.

Nothing grows up here. More than 100 days per year they experience hurricane-force winds. And they call it the Rockpile.

I had loaded the bike on the car then saw this finisher, D. P. Thomas, of Weatherford, Texas. I knew he wouldn’t make it. The mountain zaps your strength and you must have something left for the finish. Otherwise the legs can’t turn over the pedals and gravity forces you to the ground faster than one can unclip. And he wasn’t the only one.

A stranger helps D.J. with his bike and the rider behind decides to push his bike

After the race, we were one of the first cars to leave the summit. Probably 95% of the riders had finished but they do tell the few stragglers that they are going to open the road to traffic coming down the mountain.

On the descent I tried to encourage those still climbing by letting them know they weren’t far from the summit. One poor guy was “yo-yo-ing” so badly I stopped just so he could use the entire road to weave and cut the grade.

At our post-race turkey dinner, in the tent, I found Phil Gaimon and went to talk with him. In February, Mary knew that I was going to work the Tour of California and asked me to deliver a personal message to Phil to come back this year to the Hillclimb. And I did. I reminded him of that bitterly cold day in Santa Rosa and he remembered it well.

I told Phil I wanted a picture of us to put on my CaringBridge site. I explained that I had cancer and then we talked about cancer. He told me he was interested in my site and that his dad would be too as his dad was battling for his life.

I left with Phil’s last words to me. He told me he wanted to see me again at next year’s Amgen Tour of California and wanted to see me again next year racing up Mount Washington.

Cancer-free.

I plan to.

Now I must get ready for 100 miles on Sunday in Philadelphia with the Livestrong Challenge.

NOTES:

My Strava time was 1:44:37. This would be a point-to-point measure and not race time which is taken from time of starting gun to crossing the finish line. Because I was in a group, a deep group, and was not at the front, there was more than a one minute delay rolling out after the gun sounded.

There is a steep rise — about 18% — at the end of the dirt section and a spectator was at the transition screaming encouragement — “Hard top, hard top, hard top!!! — C’mon — you can do it. Hard top!” That was pretty funny actually.

I got to the hard top and never thought about the flat tire again. Mainly because it wasn’t flat. Never was. It was just riding up that 16-18% section in the dirt made the bike handle as though I had a flat tire. I didn’t.

Phil Gaimon said, “There are two possibilities in a race – you win or you set a PR, but when I’m getting faster, why would I quit doing this?”

February 16, 2009May 7, 2016

More Rain, Flooding, then Sunshine!

SANTA CRUZ, CALIFORNIA

Flooding, blowing rain, cold in Santa Cruz. I wasn’t looking forward to this day. It’s a long day standing out in raw conditions to watch a race go by.

Phil Gaimon wrote “Stage two started at 8:30 a.m., with a neutral, wet, cold, seven-mile ride across the Golden Gate Bridge. It was pretty scenic. That, and a pee break a couple hours later were the only pleasurable experiences of the day. As Floyd Landis told me during the pee break, ‘You have to take pleasure in the small things.’ So true, Floyd.” (Bicycling.com) There are two riders in the race I have personally met. Phil Gaimon (Jelly Belly) and Floyd Landis (Ouch). And here they were talking about taking pee breaks.

Phil is the only rider in the peloton who has beaten me in a race. I love writing that. Not many riders would be in a position to do a race like Mt.Washington. Most have other team and training commitments but Phil raced Mt.Washington before he joined Jelly Belly.

I met Floyd a couple of years ago in Arlington, Va. when a number of us who believed, and continue to believe, that he was innocent of the doping charges and rightfully won the Tour de France, met with him an evening before he was to discuss the tactics of the USADA with Congress.

I am tired. Each day began with a check-in around 8:00 then out to the course sometimes three hours (today it was 4) before the Tour would come through. Then it’s pack up and drive to the next location.

My location today was on the worse possible position to see the tour. On the downhill grade at the bottom of a steep hill. It’s also one of the most important positions for a marshal because the riders are going so fast it’s even more important to keep an eye on spectators to make sure none run out, even innocently to cross the street, while they are descending.

I was thrilled by the presence of two visitors. The first was Daniel Wenger. Daniel lives in Santa Cruz and we have corresponded over the years on genealogy. One of my lines is Wenger as is my watch. Daniel is my 5th cousin. I trace my family back to Lancaster Co., Pa. in the 18th century including a line named Landis. Hmmm.

Barry (L), Daniel Wenger (R)

Daniel, IMHO, is the preeminent Wenger researcher and I defer to him on Wenger research. He traced Floyd’s line as well and Floyd also descends from a Wenger line. But so far, we haven’t connected my Landis to his or his Wenger line to mine.

Then Nina Simon came by. Nina used to work in D.C. and moved to Santa Cruz a year ago. It was great to see her again as well.

Nina Simon, Barry Sherry

As for the race — it rained. Riders got soaked again beginning with their crossing the Golden Gate Bridge. Lance crashed but got back on the bike. Levi led to the end but didn’t contest the win letting Thomas Peterson take the win at the end. Levi was interested in the overall lead.

Levi Leipheimer followed closely by Thomas Peterson

The people in our spot were great. It was a residential area and most seemed to be retirees. It was a nice block party. One woman came by to offer her bathroom for breaks. Later she brought us hot tea.

I have discovered that I am an encyclopedia of biking information compared to most volunteers. Once the questions start, most volunteers clam up and I then answer their questions.

The riders came by in waves. Levi and Peterson. Then a chase group of 18 led by Astana and Lance Armstrong. They were racing hard down the street. It would be another 90 seconds before another group of 20 went by. Then at 5′, eight more riders went. At 11′ another 15 riders came by and they appeared to be more relaxed. We saw some smiles and mostly light pedaling. At 17′ another large group came by. Smiles. Relaxed pedaling at the front and coasting, COASTING!, at the rear for this group. Just glad to get home safely.

At 24′ a few more came by then at 25′ we saw the last four riders come by. And we saw cheating, wink wink. These were Francesco Chicchi, Fabio Calabria, Anibal Andres Borrajo, and Phil Southerland. I noticed that they were riding side by side with their team cars. One grabbed onto his team car and hung on. Another drafted behind his team car. Some spectators asked me if it was legal. Uh-uh. But who’s watching? Those boys worked hard on a long, cold, rainy, hard stage and were glad to get home upright on their bikes.

(Note: I saw two of the four riders grab some assistance but could not tell you which two did and which two didn’t.)

Despite the rain of the day, by the time the riders came by, the sun peaked out for an hour or so. It was a good day.

February 15, 2009February 15, 2022

Cold, Wet, and Windy

SANTA ROSA, CALIFORNIA

AMGEN TOUR OF CALIFORNIA – STAGE 1

All day long the rain came down. It was quite hard at times.

As was typical with the ATOC, volunteer check-in was hours before the assignment. I checked in at 9:00 a.m. but didn’t need to report to my location until noon. It gave me a chance to walk around this town — in the rain, of course.

The downtown area is quite neat. Except for the driving rain, it’s a great choice for a tour city. But February is the rainy season in California, especially in northern California. It’s probably not the best time to hold a major bike race.

The tour cities make a day of the event. In Sacramento, we worked a community ride on the course two hours before the event. In Santa Rosa, it was a professional women’s criterium.

And it rained. And rained more. The women did a nice job of staying upright. The winner was the Swedish national champion Emilia Fahlin although for my money Lauren Tamayo was the rider of the day as she led out the breaks and did most of the work.

After the race, which ended at 2:00 p.m., we had to kill time waiting for the arrival of the men. The bad weather grounded the race airplane and getting information was hard. Even Versus, the television broadcast network, was affected. One marshal at our location was connected to ham operators and he kept us informed as to their locations. That was useful in answering the many questions “what time will they arrive?”

Last year there was a crash on the run-in to town. In cycling, the officials can give everyone who is together the same finishing time if there is a crash within the last 3 km. This rewards the risk-takers who make those dare-devil sprint finishes so exciting.

But where are the last three kilometers? The finish in Santa Rosa was circuits of the downtown on a 3.1 mile (5 km) loop. Is a crash on the first circuit within 3 km of the “finish?” It is usually literal, that is, within 3 km of the finish line.

Last year, favorite and Santa Rosa native, Levi Leipheimer, got caught in a crash on the first loop. At the time he was near the front but lost massive time due to the crash. The race officials then decided to give all the riders the same time, making Levi very happy. It was controversial, to say the least.

Today we were not informed of the local rules. But the race director made the decision that once they got to Santa Rosa, the first time across the “finish line” would be the actual time for the stage. In essence, the second and third passes didn’t count — at least for time.

The roads were soaked. High-speed corners in this weather were a recipe for disaster. So arrive Santa Rosa safely and get your race time when you arrive.

Fransicso Mancebo (ESP) came through town first about two minutes ahead of some chasers. Although the chasers eventually caught him, they were racing on the final two laps to be the stage winner. He would have the best time regardless. (He won by 1:07)

I was a marshal at a very difficult location. Although it was not a curve that I hoped for (they go slower there), it was a potential bottleneck on the course. The traffic lanes went from four to two in the space of the intersection. And we had no barriers to keep the people back. They were standing on the sidewalk.

I worked with a Santa Rosa policeman and we moved some road barriers through the intersection and the people did well to stay behind them. This was also at the end of a 500-meter downgrade, not steep, but definitely 2-3% downhill and they were flying. Maybe worse, the support cars were flying through the intersection.

I would estimate a couple of the race cars went by at 60 mph just seconds before they had to hit this narrow, somewhat curvy two-lane stretch. My big concern was making sure no one tried to cross in front of the cyclists (ugly) or a race vehicle (death). No one died.

As in Sacramento, people came to me seeking knowledge about the race and cycling in general. And I was glad to oblige. I stood on the inside of the barriers but as the riders approached I knelt down so the spectators could take pictures without my big head in them.

My most vivid memory was not of the pro race but a local ride that also occurred. About 3:30 p.m., a cyclist came down the street and stopped to ask for directions to the finish line. He was about my age but he could barely speak the words. As he tried to talk his mouth just shivering uncontrollably. I don’t know where he was but clearly was affected by the day’s cold (about 48° or 9° C), but more importantly, the bone-soaking wetness. We directed him the quickest way through the course to his destination even though we weren’t supposed to allow riders on the route at that time.

After the race finished and the crowds left, I passed through the team bus parking lot. There, at least 100 people gathered in front of the Team Astana bus but one could find the others much easier. I made my way to Jelly Belly to speak with Phil Gaimon. Phil is in his first pro race. He is also the only rider in the Tour of California who can say that he has beaten me in a race — last year’s Newton’s Revenge up Mt. Washington, NH.

Phil Gaimon – “Who are you and why are you stalking me?”

We spoke briefly — he wondered why the heck I was there but I delivered a personal message to him from Mary Power, the events director at the Mt. Washington Auto Road. She wanted him to know he was invited to go back to MWARBH.

Soaked, really soaked, and cold, I got in my car for the two 1/2 hour drive to Santa Cruz through flooded roads.