Ride K Ride

June 12, 2010 The Highwood Pass Bike Ride

2010-06-14T19:22:00.000-07:00

Most of the cyclists met at Emmanuel CRC, Calgary, then followed my favourite route through the rolling green foothills with their backdrop of white-capped Rockies past scores of horse and cattle ranches and the tiniest of the new foals and calves and the appropriately named Eden Valley. While I had visions of a group photo at the closed south gate on the Kananaskis Hwy, such was not to be. My vehicle arrived a few minutes after the first group, with John Koning (C2C 2005) and Hubert Van Ginhoven, had left. And then everyone departed in small groups as fast as they could get ready, each claiming they had better get a head start due to lack of training or heavier bikes. Of course, most of the riders were soon just dots in the distance.

Hans Doef and Gresham Veldhuisen chatted with Dora VanderWoude, my hiking buddies, Glenda Wong and Gerry Beitel, and me as we offloaded the bikes and applied sunscreen. Someone asked me a question partway through the application and today my arms are medium rare. Not to mention any names, Gerry, but you should know how my short term memory works. Gresham did say that he hadn't ridden any significant distance since 2008, but he and Hans were soon out of sight. Youth. Sigh!

I had prepared Dora well for the day by telling her about sitting down alone for lunch on this stretch of highway a few years ago only to realize that there was a grizzly snoozing in the sun nearby. A quick and quiet departure had seemed wise at that moment. Then a month ago, experiencing adrenaline surge when a cougar stalked this writer. But my stories were to no avail as she soon left me in the proverbial dust ploughing through grizzly scat on her quest to summit. (Perhaps that is a slight exaggeration. There were indeed bear droppings, but I think she tried to avoid them.)

John Koning recognized Dora on his way back down, so we had a brief little reunion in the middle of the highway. Further along a bearded, grinning Josh Krabbe braked hard to visit with us for a few minutes. Josh told me that he rode an incredible 300 km that day from Canmore over the pass (to Longview?) and back. I am awestruck!

Friends from church, George and Jane Nieuwenhuis, paused for a few words, then continued on their way while we enjoyed a snack break with another hiking friend, Hubert Rielinger. A few kilometers further, Hans and Gresham stopped to say farewell as they headed back down and to let us know there would be veggies from the Doef greenhouse waiting under my car. Absolutely gorgeous veggies, they are. Thank you so much, Hans. I see jars of pickles in my future.

The official summit sign didn't seem to be getting any closer as the road wound onward and upward, but everyone did make it. George had a borrowed bike which didn't quite fit and had shifting problems and a brand new seat. He was really suffering by the time he made the summit, but he did it! Jane had reached the top, then returned to walk the last stretch with George. Way to go! Jane was in pain later, doing the opposite of me with sunscreen on her arms, but not her legs.

We found Neil De Bree and Ary de Jong, also from Emmanuel, picnicking on a hard bench, so we joined Hank Vanderland and Morris Spronk of River Park CRC, Calgary, stretched out on the grass. Shortly thereafter, Gerry and Glenda arrived with their ever-present treats. This time it was macadamia nuts and chocolate. There's a reason I like hiking with them! They and Hubert R were going over the top to meet a ride on the north side of the closed section. We all lingered a while in the brilliant sunshine thoroughly enjoying the company and magnificent views before the clock called us on.

Josh and I exchanged waves as we passed again. Then a little later, a young sheep was racing along the cliff edge toward me. As I readied my camera, he suddenly stopped, struck a couple of poses, then raced away again. LOL!

Some of the annual ride regulars didn't make it this year. We were sorry to hear that Gerald Krabbe, Josh's father and 2005 rider, is having some problems. We wish you a full recovery, Gerald, and hope to see you and Jenny next year. And Fred E (Folkerts), what happened to you? Of course Fred did just pass a fairly significant birthday. I also forgot to mention that it was Dora's birthday. We should have had cake at the top! The day ended with Neil and Ina De Bree joining Dora and me for supper. Thank you, Ina, for the delicious dish and waiting for us.

The day, the ride, the company were wonderful blessings to me. It was a joyful, enthusiastic group and just so special to share some time again with Hans, Gresham, Dora and Josh. Thank you to all who rode and especially to God for giving us perfect weather and wonderful scenery.

Next year...

Ride K Ride

End of a Journey

2008-09-21T13:26:00.000-07:00

My computer started throwing error messages at me yesterday so I hit "Post" before my lengthy blog was lost which is why it ended abruptly. Continuing...

I stopped for a photo of the Manhattan skyline just before the staging area and arrived just as the final group photos were taken. It was only a minute or so later that I saw Dave and Larry Meyer ride in. They had ridden the entire route, but missed being in the official photo which did not seem fair to me, but that's what happened at most of the massed photos or group rides.

The Kearny police escort took off at a good clip, but fortunately, that was slowed down as the group began to spread out. Three lanes of a bridge on Hwy 1/9 into Jersey City were closed down for us. All I could think was that I had never had a desire to visit New York mainly because of the congestion and crime yet here I was heading toward the Manhattan towers on a bike surrounded by a couple of hundred friends on an empty highway and escorted by smiling, waving police officers with lights and sirens. It was absolutely surreal, but great fun. The waves of voices shouting "Slowing", "Stopping", "Turning Left", as we passed instructions to each other down the line created lots of attention from store owners and onlookers. Shortly afterward the Jersey City Police took over and we rode through an industrial area with our escorts blocking intersections until everyone had passed, then screaming past us on a narrow road with sirens on to block the next intersection.

When we reached Freedom Way, the Liberty State Park Police took charge for a magnificent 6 mile ride along the quiet, wide brick pathway which wends its way through the park and along the Hudson River. From my vantage point in the middle of the group, I could see every one of our cyclists. It was an amazing spectacle. I felt the hugest grin spread across my face. In the distance, Ellis Island came into view, then the back of the Statue of Liberty, then shortly after the small harbour where we were directed to line up about 10 ft above the water. It was quite a squeeze. Again, I was in the middle of the group and had a great view of the curved line of cyclists. Led by Len we recited The Lord's Prayer, then dipped our front tires in the water. Cheers, hugs, tears and endless photos erupted. We had really done it.

Ed Witwoet, the tour director, deserves a lot of credit for successfully completing this gargantuan logistical challenge. Fellow cyclists, Lou Haveman, Leanne Talen Geisterfer, Ad de Blaeij and Lois Craven were given some opportunities on the tour to educate us further about their mission work and were wonderful people with whom to converse. They helped to keep us focussed on the reasons for the ride. We have heard since from Ad and Leanne who work in Haiti and are now dealing with the aftermath of the hurricanes that have devastated the country.

It was an incredibly challenging journey physically, spiritually and mentally and I am really glad I did it. Thank you to all who helped me along the way. And thanks be to God for the landscape, his people and miraculous protection.

And now the rest of the story...

2008-09-20T05:06:00.000-07:00

It has taken this long for me to process the fact that I actually did ride across the continent. Many of us standing in the harbour in Jersey City waiting to dip our tires were asking each other if we really had done the ride. It was surreal. Strange as that might seem, the fact that each day was so intense made focussing on the ride as a whole something difficult to do. Now that I have all my film photos developed, I can actually remember each day. And it helps, too, that I can read so many of my fellow riders' wonderful blogs and view their digital photos. I still fight with feelings of failure as I was unable to ride every inch of the way, but I did ride each day for a total of over 6,000 km out of the official 6,246 km. Definitely the last few weeks were more enjoyable, though not less difficult, as the distances or wind or steepness of the hills still presented a challenge.

There are many whom I would like to thank for supporting me on this venture: the churches that endorsed me - my home church of Emmanuel CRC (Calgary), Trinity CRC (Anchorage AK), Covenant CRC, Maranatha CRC and New Hope Community Church (all of Calgary); so many people who kept all of us in prayer; those who made financial contributions; or sent mail enroute; Norm, Neil and Noah at Lifesport, the local bike shop, where I bought my beautiful blue & silver LeMond Versailles road bike, who answered all the questions this neophyte had and outfitted the bike at low or no cost; friends who trained with me; people who provided stops along my primarily rainy training routes; the Mirich family who kept my car safe in Seattle all summer; and all the friends and family in BC who encouraged me on the way to Seattle and fed me and let me sleep long hours in real beds on the way back.

I would especially like to thank the fabulous group of cyclists, tour staff and volunteers at churches along the way whose emotional and physical support allowed me to complete this ride. There are many people whom I will probably never see again this side of heaven, but there are many others whose reaquaintance I anticipate with joy.

I had begun this ride believing that it was half vacation, half mission trip. Well, I needed a vacation to recover from that vacation, but as a mission trip, it was a tremendous success. Over 2.2 million dollars was raised by Sea-to-Sea, but, more importantly, the number of people whom we met along the way, and who became engaged in the causes, grew exponentially.

The tenor of the ride changed significantly when we left Grand Rapids with 60 new cyclists. Though I tried hard to meet everyone, two weeks just wasn't long enough to remember them all. The role of the SAG drivers changed as well. With so many small towns and refreshment stops provided by the local CRC congregations, the SAG stops were no longer the lifesavers that they had been in the desert and mountains. The social aspect changed as well. From a group of 5 or 6 cyclists at a SAG stop and the opportunity to easily socialize together, there were now 20 or 30 people milling around. And we all missed the cyclists whose ride ended in GR.

But the countryside was lovely. The beautiful beaches and homes along Lake Michigan, the cardinals that sang for us, the towering hardwood forests and manicured farms were a pleasure to ride past. The border crossings were a blast. From our assembly at the lighthouse in Marine City MI, we rode as a group dressed in our official Sea-to-Sea jerseys to the small ferry. Although all 195 bikes would have fit on the St. Clair River ferry, there were only 50 lifejackets onboard, so the cyclists took four ferries across with our support vehicles making a fifth trip. Once in Sombra, we lined up single file, passport in hand, with our bikes. One Canada Customs officer took the passport and read the name while another one checked the name off a list that Ed, the tour director, had presubmitted. That was it! No questions asked.

Among the throng of well-wishers gathered on the Canadian side was my friend, Diane Pautler, whom I met when she rode the 2005 C2C and billetted with me in Calgary. There was lots of food including Timbits and 400 red-and-white cupcakes with Canadian flags on them. It was a loud, joyous celebration where we stayed for quite a while. Then I got to ride a part of Canada I had never seen from Sarnia to London. The first stop on our dip south to Chatham was slightly off-route in Wallaceburg to visit the first Tim Horton's we could see. Tent city was at a local arena where they were many billeting, laundry and swimming options posted on the bulletin board. I chose to follow a chalk-marked route with Liz and Corinne to a house where a church member had opened his home to let us enjoy their beautiful new outdoor pool and refreshments. It was a lovely hour or so with Steve & Rose Dykstra.

The next morning, I set off with my fast friends, Dora and Diane who had joined us for a day ride. Fortunately the ride took us along quiet country roads where even my voice could be heard as we caught up with each other's lives. They are stronger riders but I had the navigational responsibilities, so I stayed sheltered from the wind at the back of our pace line shouting the route instructions and asking Diane to slow down a bit each time she got excited and rode faster than our agreed pace. It was a great day with coffee at a blueberry farm/restaurant, another yummy CRC stop in lovely Mt. Brydges, and a great welcoming committee at the end of the river pathway in London. I was tired after trying to keep up with the D's all day and took far too long getting my tent up and organized. For the perfect ending, Diane's husband Ron took us all to East Side Mario's where I had a scrumptious shrimp dinner. While we had been enjoying each other's company and the passing scenery of green fields and old brick farmhouses, about 20 cyclists took part in a time trial (race) along a 40 km stretch of road.

We found hills on the road to Ancaster, and an increasing number of CRC stops as well. Diane was serving at her church's stop just outside Woodstock where the hills become increasingly steeper. Again I had time for a nice visit with her. Then we passed through my ancestors' hometown of Brantford where I took my favourite photo of the trip - a pastoral scene with two swans nestled together on the edge of a tree-shaded pond. As I pulled into Redeemer College where we were spending the night, I noticed that the rubber had scrubbed off my rear tire. It wasn't even flat as the layer of Kevlar, which the Armadillo tires have, protected the tube inside. With training rides, I must have put about 6500 rough, thorn-infested km on that tire! So instead of the free pedicure which I was gleefully anticipating for my nerve-damaged feet, a willing volunteer drove Dora and me to a bike shop where she bought a mirror and I found a replacement tire. Back at camp, Dave Meyer kindly spent a long time mounting and balancing the wheel by the light of a headlamp. I could have done it, in fact I put the original one on, but Dave did it to perfection and taught me a few things at the same time.

I rode with the Meyer family the next morning, pausing on the Niagara escarpment overlooking Hamilton. From there, with great concentration through the morning mist, the CN tower and my birthplace of Toronto was visible across Lake Ontario. It was quite fun coming off the escarpment as the road was fairly smooth on a winding, forested hill with a 12% grade, though we had been warned of a stop sign at the bottom. For that reason, I kept my speed a little lower than I might otherwise have done. Some of the fast guys rode it a couple of times to familiarize themselves with the road, then sped down it, with John Vanderveen attaining 90.4 kph!! That's mindblowing! Someone (JK, I believe) used electrician's tape to change the grade sign to read 112% which is how it felt. Again we were treated to many wonderful refreshment breaks along the way and many warm welcoming church members. In Port Dalhousie ("Da-loo-zee" here, not like "Dal-how-zee" in Halifax), Justin and I rode the original highly-decorated wild animal carousel from about 1885. His mother treated us to the nickel ride. That night I joined two busloads of cyclists for a trip to Niagara Falls. I enjoyed a lovely evening strolling around with Pete & Julie after we had missed the final trip on the Maid of the Mist by a couple of minutes.

On Sunday we headed back toward Niagara and an outdoor celebration service. The skies opened and thunder rolled as we huddled under crowded pavilions, then just minutes before the service the sun came out and the rest of the day was beautiful. As we were near General Brock's monument, we Canadians felt the need to remind our fellow cyclists from the States, that Canada won the only battle ever fought between the two countries.

We were anticipating a more difficult crossing at Niagara that Monday morning as there were the dreaded US Border Guards to deal with this time. Early in the day, we rode along the magnificent Niagara River for some extra distance. It was a great ride and we got to see one of the locks on the Welland Canal up close which we would have missed if we had stayed on-route. As before we gathered in a group in a parking lot, all wearing our official jerseys. The left lane of the Rainbow Bridge was closed to traffic to allow us to cross as a group and we were told there were three customs booths opened for us. This time, we were directed by laughing border guards to keep on riding, no slowing, no stopping, no checking of passports, although we were openly being video-taped by one of the smiling guards. We were incredulous! They were obviously enjoying the parade riding past them and we thought this must have been a wonderful break for people who carry such heavy responsibilities.

We had a relaxed time taking lots of photos above the American Falls, riding onto Goat Island, and viewing the falls from every angle. For only the second time (the Chicago area being the first time), we were told to stay in groups of at least six. As someone who hikes in the Rockies, my first thought was, "Where are the grizzlies?" As before, no one had trouble that I was aware of, and I never saw anything happen in the way of crime. The rest of the day was a pleasant ride through upstate New York. It was the second time where we went off-route, not lost, but with many others as we later discovered, we interpreted a corner differently than Ed thought he had written the instruction. I think all the other groups turned back and put lots of extra mileage on. Our group's good leader asked the right questions of the locals and so we cut cross-country to rejoin the route without too many extra miles. It was a beautiful day in beautiful countryside, so I didn't mind in the least. We did ride through a reservation which was another new experience, but the detour ended at an ice cream shop so all was well.

That night was the first of our special last week evenings with a bonfire, singalong, s'mores, and neighbouring campers from a blue grass band who invited Vonda, a symphony conductor and concert violinist, to join them. She does a great version of "Turkey in the Straw" on a borrowed fiddle. And some of the younger cyclists had the energy to dance well past our usual quiet time of 9 p.m.

The Finger Lakes lie nestled in the steep Adirondacks. Our progress was slowed by the steepness of some of the hills, but there were so many lovely sights along Lake Seneca including another off-route which took us to a marina where one of the men asked if we could get a lift on a canal boat to the other side mere feet away. That wasn't possible so we, and others, had to backtrack several miles to ride around the north end, but were rewarded with wonderful desserts at a beautiful lakeside cafe. That night the Canadian flags and cake came out again as Coby & Marti celebrated their newly granted citizenship.

The beautiful undulating Adirondacks led to the Catskills and the Appalachians in the following days. I loved seeing the wonderful old town squares where I could easily imagine horses and buggies driving by and the 200-year-old barns and magnificent gothic and early American architecture. We had been later coming in than anticipated to Chenango Falls and I was in a hurry to hit the shower. Just before our campsite a local rider came alongside me to ask what we were doing. Normally I would stop and talk, but I didn't slacken my pace and just invited him to ride into camp with me as I answered his questions, then showed him the gear truck, kitchen trailer and tent city and introduced him to some of the other cyclists. The sight of 190 or so tents usually results in a jaw-dropping expression.

I was so glad that I had a banner on the side of my tent as there were five other identical ones. One night I had approached from the bannerless side, opened the fly and wondered who had rearranged my belongings before I realized it wasn't my tent. With a new location each night, there were always a few people wandering around who had "lost" their homes. For some reason, I couldn't seem to remember where my tent was in St. Catharines. Even though we were there for two nights, I spent time searching the grounds each time I needed something from it.

The church in Chenango Falls hosted a tasty barbecue of chicken and polled pork that night. As usual Hans Doef of Lacombe led our mid-week worship service after the pelaton. They were all peaceful, thoughtfully presented, reverential experiences. Jenna and Annette, who are both graduates of King's University College in Edmonton, played their flutes, various people were asked to read scripture, and Hans often taught us new songs. I really appreciated their contributions and was glad I made the services a priority as they helped me find some sanity in the hectic days.

Hills, hills, hills. That's mainly what I recall of the last three days. Once in Pennsylvania, we were all fascinated by the town named Hop Bottom, an old mining town and now the site of an annual bluegrass music festival. The road into it was an amazing downhill which went forever, but it was also a little scary as the shoulder wasn't good enough to ride, so we had to "take the lane" which meant competing for space with transport trailers on a winding road with a double solid yellow centre line most of the way. In sections, large cracks and holes extended well into the driving lanes forcing cyclists to swerve to the middle of the road without much warning. Our usual few cms between bikes spread out to several meters as we just couldn't warn each other of all the hazards. At Nicholson, a high huge concrete railway bridge crosses the deep valley. It is picturesque and we spent a lot of time reading the inscriptions and taking photos. Just beyond we turned onto a country road leading to Lackawanna State Park which, unbeknownst to us, must sit at the top of a mountain. Clare, always willing to let others try his recumbent trike, had just switched with Hans. I think Hans may have regretted the timing of his request to ride such a heavy beast, as not too far down the road, the last 10 km were just about the steepest part of the whole tour.

That night all the cyclists and support staff formed one large circle to share communion for the final time. The light was fading so it was difficult to clearly see each face which I would have liked to have done, but it was an emotional and blessed ceremony. I had a difficult time sleeping knowing that this incredible adventure was ending soon and I would miss so many friends.

The dew was heavy on the tent and there was the distinct odour of skunk when I awoke before 5 a.m. Whew! At least it wasn't too close. I was hoping that no one had been sprayed. Someone was apparently spared that fate when another cyclist saw him almost walk into one on his way to the washroom. Around breakfast time, I caught the whiff of another one. We had been warned of bears here, but the only wildlife encounter was with a raccoon that fought its way into someone's tent only to get a good whack from the occupant who wasn't too thrilled with the company.

Sussex was 132 km and many hills away. Again the ride was beautiful as we left at the crack of dawn. We were on back roads and the coffee shop we hoped to find was none existent in this farming area. So I did what Leanne and I had done the past two days, pictured the perfect, most scenic spot that I would like to eat. Sure enough, shortly down the road, a sign for the restaurant at Cherry Ridge Airport appeared. It was a short ride off the road, a pretty, unique place with great food that overlooked the airfield and a few small planes. There was a warm and friendly waitress, and a couple of pilots also there for breakfast, as well as Hans from BC and Wiebo. A conversation ensued with the pilots being told what we were doing, then the question was asked, "How much would it cost to fly us to Sussex?"

Thinking aloud about the cost of fuel and the weight of the bikes, a pilot quoted about $60 each. We looked at each other. Hmmm! Heads started nodding affirmatively. I think it was Marcus, the most prolific Sea-to-Sea card distributor, who said, "Think how many cards we could drop from the air and how many people we could reach." Clare jokingly said he could do a forest survey and claim it as a business expense. Was it Tony who asked, "Is it required that we ride every inch of the way?" I was quite sure that I wouldn't make the whole ride that day given the length and elevation and how little sleep I had had. By that point, only Fred and Marcus hadn't yet taken a SAG ride. There were other comments about skywriting as we pondered this possibility on the day of the tour with the highest elevation gain of 6,857 ft. Fred's suggestion of trailing a banner behind the plane with the words, "Draft this, guys!" was greeted with appreciative laughter. Disappointment reigned as the pilot said that we would have to disassemble the bikes for the small plane. Sighs were heaved, then it was back on the road again.

By the summit before Milford, my knees had had enough and I was beginning to struggle to keep up with the others, but I did want to make it to the New Jersey state line at about 100 km. Beyond that was 30 km more and a summit of 1900 ft. The downhill into Milford was a relief and by then it was time for a pleasant lunch together. I told the men they should go on without me, then found an ATM and more leisurely continued on my way through town. Sure enough, Marcus who had stated proudly at lunch that he hadn't had a flat since getting a new tire weeks ago, was at the side of the road with Clare helping him to change one. A state trooper pulled up and asked if we needed help. He could go pick up a floor pump if we wanted. What a nice guy! It wasn't necessary, though, and he looked a little disappointed that he wasn't needed. All along the route, police departments were notified that we were coming and, for the most part, they were great in their response to us. Even in Colorado where we were warned that they were looking for infractions and would ticket any offenders, all I ever saw was a thumbs up and the comment shouted out an open window, "Great job. Keep it up."

I kept riding with the intention to get to the start of the climb and see how I felt. The hill to High Point State Park came into view and with it the decision to start walking to give my knees a break until I saw a SAG wagon. Since I wasn't hurt, I wasn't going to call for help, but just walk until one of the vehicles came along. Not two seconds later, Art and Betsy passed me. I raised my arm which was the sign for help. While they loaded the bike onto the van roof rack, I took a quick photo of the New Jersey welcome sign. What timing! That meant time to set up my tent, take a shuttle to the showers which were at a different school than where we were staying, and getting organized before supper by which time the others had made it in. The unanimous verdict - "We should have taken the plane ride!"

The shower situation was always a question at the end of the day. Most of the time we stayed at beautiful high schools or middle schools where there were clean, spacious facilities. After setting up my tent, I would head to the shower room and walk in wearing my cycling clothes. The clothes would be laundered as they were removed. It was the quickest, most efficient way to do laundry and get clean. It was also the time when we women had great conversations about the day and what was happening in our lives, if the showers were warm, that is. If they were cold or sandblasters or there were only one or two for the 40 to 70 women who had to share them, then speed became the factor. Sometimes we had to get on our bikes after arriving in camp and ride a mile or two to the local YMCA as we did at one elementary school where the cute little sinks were knee-high or there would be a van shuttle to a Y, a spa (Woo-Hoo!), or a private home or there was a local pool or lake. Once there was a hose and a tarp set up outdoors with times alternating between men's and women's showers. I was fighting a cold and feeling lousy that day and a cold shower was not in the books, but down the road was a huge truck stop with large, comfortable private showers and real fluffy enormous towels for a price. I was glad I paid the price that night.

At the pelaton that night in Sussex, we played Tour Bingo with numbered lines stating different tour facts, like #15 Five or more flats, or #38 Has new slang/accent after trip, or #56 Had a PB & J sandwich every day. We filled in blank Bingo sheets with the numbers that reflected our experiences and played with Jen drawing the numbers. Then it was time for one last night in my tent, this time on quite a hill. I put extra stakes in the uphill side just in case the tent starting sliding in the night.

My sweep team was on duty the next morning, so my alarm went at 4:30 a.m. to give me time to pack my tent and get ready to ride before helping with the breakfast setup and serving. I had special permission to leave early so that I had a chance to make the 1 p.m. meeting point 82 km away for the final group photo and police-escorted ride to the ocean. Eight km out of camp, my rear derailleur cable broke which left me with three gears, not the 30 that my knees like. The guys offered to fix the cable so I could still ride. Depending on which rear gear I chose, it would either be too high for the steep uphills or too low for the flats and downhills. I decided to call for help, but was teasingly accused of looking far too happy at my fate. I wasn't really.

While standing at the side of the road waiting for a SAG wagon, many cyclists passed me, each asking if I needed help. With thumb up and words lost in traffic noise, I said I was okay, then I got the bright idea to take photos. That way they wouldn't ask if I needed help and I'd get photos of lots of people. It was two hours of riding Art & Betsy's SAG wagon with Jerry & Lynda whose tandem bike needed a tire before we found a bike shop in Montclair about halfway down the route. The techs were great and had us back on the road in no time, but I needed food and water and a washroom so stopped at a deli where the clerk kept me talking about the ride. Back on the road, Jenna caught up with me and we both felt it was fitting that we should ride the last day together as we had ridden the first one together. She is such a lovely person that that was quite a thrill.

Len
Ed

Drafting and dallying

2008-08-16T17:27:00.000-07:00

It has been two weeks of a complete swing from absolute exhaustion to absolute delight. I hit a crisis of faith in Fremont Nebraska when the temperature hit 100F with 40% humidity and I had no energy to see myself through the next day. But after talking with several riders, came to the conclusion that though I am not an athlete, I did still want to finish the ride - not the endurance road race that it had become for me, but the bike tour for which I had signed on.

My new goal was to be in camp by 4 pm each day, whether it meant riding my bike or taking the SAG and that has worked well for me. So I have SAGGED 5 times altogether and am enjoying my rides, for the most part, knowing that the pressure is off me to perform as a Tour de France racer. I have also found a pace line that I enjoy with 4 or 5 other riders who stop for photos, bird watching, scenery appreciation, and pancake breakfasts, ice cream and any other thing that could possibly interest us.

I would love to keep my blog up to date, but simply don't have the time each night, so here are a few random stories:

For my little sister - I stopped for a drink in Benkelman NE on an incredibly hot day and got into conversation with Bob and Donna at their store. For fun they go rattlesnake hunting at night, taking out a bucket, shovel and flashlight. They shovel a rattler into the bucket, then take it home and put it in their freezer until it dies. I have a photo of Bob holding a mounted huge rattler which was still alive after 3 days in the freezer. He told me this as Donna was putting ice in my drink. Hmmm! I guess it's the equivalent of gopher hunting on the prairies.

Riding alone the next day, I was slugging up a small incline, when I saw Johnny approaching from behind. As I moved over to let him pass, I felt a hand at the base of my spine and heard the order to "Steer Straight". Johnny Rocket Power pushed me up the hill at three times the speed I have ever climbed a hill. It was great fun and I was laughing (well, more accurately, but less appealing) sqealing hysterically all the way to the top. Some of these guys are strong. In fact several of them had often taken turns pushing the much heavier recumbent trike of Bill up mountain passes. Simply amazing and a real act of generosity!

I often have to laugh as I imagine people following the elevation profiles in the "Shifting Gears" book. A downhill in Iowa with a headwind is as difficult as a mountain pass, while our 185 km day with a tailwind into Dordt College, Sioux Center Iowa, was a breeze. The mood was celebratory that night enhanced by my first stay in a real bed in their beautiful dorms.

I loved Iowa, not only for the endless fields of corn, but for the 20F drop in temperatures, and all the tiny picturesque towns with coffee shops and ice cream parlours. Britt, Iowa was especially pretty. That's for my housesitter by the same name. Deb DeBoer served me at the pharmacy. Her husband was a CRC pastor in Langley at one time.

In Madison Wisconsin, I was asked to do give a short presentation on the causes which we support. I was quite tired and managed to throw a few mistakes into my speech by trying to talk rather than read what I wrote, but overall it was a good experience and has sparked many in-depth conversations with fellow riders. Calvin DeWit who is a well-known teacher and naturalist led some of us on a tour of a prairie conservancy which he has established in the Town (township) of Dunn. It is huge and unique in the States. We saw some very rare turkey-footed big blue prairie grass about 7 ft high, purple cone flower (echinacea), hummingbirds and marshland.

I saw the Mississippi from the seat of a SAG after a very rough road took its toll on my hands and other parts. It is impressive with its many wide channels and riverboats. The prairie of Iowa instantly changes to the Great Lakes Forest of Wisconsin and its lush green rolling hills with beautiful dairy farms.

We were on back roads as we crossed into Illinois and so missed the actual highway signs, but I loved the horsy, old world feel of the country as we moved from modest farms toward the huge estates of the wealthy outside the Greater Chicago area. We rode 60 km down the Fox River Trail which winds along though quiet deep dark forests and old towns. Simply wonderful.. Unfortunately, the roads into Trinity College deteriorated into a nightmare. Several cyclists had terribly close calls with traffic that was not about to yield an inch to cyclists on highways with no shoulder. Lyn was even attacked by a sunflower which wrapped itself around her handlebars and caused her to fall, banging her knee badly. Who could anticipate that one? I could hardly make myself get on my bike the next day, but knew I could SAG if it was as bad. Of course, the roads were magnificent, smooth and enjoyable all the next day. And it helped that I had had a great night as the houseguest of Claude and Jan Bos in their Monet room along with my friend, Dora.

The ride along the shore of Lake Michigan has been peaceful and beautiful. Indiana State Dune Park where we stayed was quite incredible with 100 ft high dunes and lovely silky sand and warm turquoise water. There has been lots of time to do the things that our group likes to do, including going off-route to take a ride on the last hand-cranked chain ferry in the States. Mark Deckinger or Marcus Lise might have uploaded those photos to their blogs. I have been riding mainly with them, Tony Schweitzer and Clare K, though the groups change around from time to time and I like to spend time with the Meyer family, too. There are CRC churches every few miles, including a visit to the first one in the States in Graafschap and the magnificent one that has replaced it. There are many people standing beside the roads to cheer us on. It's a rather funny experience as we are treated like heroes, but all we are doing is riding our bikes. None of us can believe that we have actually ridden as far as we have as the days just roll into one.

Yesterday, Tyler, Cynthia and Arnie who were the seriously injured cyclists joined us for dinner at the CRC Conference Centre in Grand Haven. It was wonderful to see them and to know that they are all healing well. Cynthia, recovering from a pelvic fracture, even rode today. Now that's guts!

Tonight I am staying at Calvin College in Grand Rapids with Dennis and Jenny Hoekstra and it is wonderful and homey. And I should probably end here as I am not organized for tomorrow yet.

Rocky Mountain High

2008-07-26T19:45:00.000-07:00

The cheerleaders were cheering and handing out cold water, the dj was spinning great music including John Denver's "Rocky Mtn High" and welcoming incoming cyclists. There were bags of goodies for the cyclists, homemade cookies, a free haircut (beautifully done by Karen), an ice cream social after dinner and access to Denver Christian High's computer lab where I am right now. I also received your welcomed mail, Mom and Gael. It is a beautiful school, as most of them have been, and we had a tremendous welcome from the local churches.

I decided this morning to take a SAG wagon to the top of the Berthoud Pass as I have just been feeling on the weak side and knew I couldn't make the whole ride in the alloted time. So I hopped in Julie's truck with Bill and Mary Dracht. Bill has been experiencing some altitude sickness. Unfortunately we came across a cyclist's accident. Tyler, who is one of the faster ones, had hit the ditch and broke his clavicle badly in two places. We stayed with him until Betsy, who is our lead SAG driver and head nurse arrived to take him into a clinic. He will be heading home tomorrow.

Our SAG drivers are amazing. We are constantly cheered on by the passing drivers and given endless encouragement at the rest stops. Cory drives the Port-a-Potty around. He and his little yellow house are always a welcome sight. There is a joke that one day the potty trailer came loose and ended up in the middle of the road (well, that part's true) but several of the guys were seen drafting behind it as they will draft behind anything. Bill, who rides a Harley Fat Boy, constantly patrols the trickier sections of road checking on each of us as he passes. Walter parks his RV at the halfway point and always has a smile and usually a little treat. Betsy takes care of everyone and usually shuttles bikes and people who just can't finish. Then, of course, we are passed by the cooks and other support staff in the gear truck, the kitchen truck, the pantry truck, Alida (the night nurse) in her RV, and Diane Slofstra hanging out of the jeep window cheering us on. It's great fun to see them approaching in the rearview mirror and appreciated greatly. We have also had a lot of oncoming truckers honk and wave, and we think these are guys who have seen us on the road since Washington as they drive their routes back and forth.

Today was a blast as the downhill from the summit went forever, mostly on good shoulders with not a lot of traffic. I had to stop a few times to give my hands a rest from braking. Braking is an art as constant pressure on the rim can heat it up too much and explode the tire - not something you want to do at speed. For the most part I let my bike go, but some curves were very tight and there was some sand on the road here and there. A bike becomes unstable at speeds greater than 68 kph, though holding the top tube between your knees can help. It's a position that I can't comfortably manage though. The scenery was spectacular and the little towns like Empire that we passed through, quaint and clean. There were a few more uphills, one of them a four-mile 10% (I'm guessing) grade monster that all said was worse than the pass, but mostly we followed a river along with some whitewater rafters. My legs were burning on all the climbs, so I know I made the right decision to do just part of the route.

I think I had better sign off tonight. Thanks for all the emails. I'm sorry I haven't had a lot of time to answer them, but maybe next week will be better. I would recommend our head chaplain Len Riersema's blog for photos - not too much writing, lots of pictures. He's a great person, cheerful, encouraging and humourous. One of the guys has a photo of him hanging onto a semi as we climbed a pass. Now that's drafting in style!!

Bonk or bike

2008-07-25T16:29:00.000-07:00

The turkey vulture circling overhead spied his potential meal on wheels wobbling down the highway. The day had started well with an overcast sky, lovely roads and somewhat lower temperatures, but about 14 miles before Craig, I felt dizzy. I went through a mental checklist - I had had lots to drink and eat, a couple of nice shady breaks, but then the sun came out and it was suddenly hot again as we wound through a desert valley. Larry and I had been riding together for a little while since Betsy's SAG break, but I had to stop. I ate a little, drank some more, got back on my bike and felt faint. Slowly I inched forward stopping frequently until I decided that I had better walk as it's less painful to faint while walking, than fall off a bike with feet clipped into the pedals. Bonking is what cyclists call fainting while riding. It's usually a result of low blood sugar, but I think I was just over-exhausted from the long hard days. Two cyclists came up behind and asked if I needed help, but I sent them on their way with instructions to tell Julie at the next SAG stop that I would probably need a ride. Much to my surprise and pleasure, Justin, a very friendly young man, cycled back and walked beside me all the way to Julie's truck, which was fortunately 500 ft down the road. The vulture moved on.

So it was disappointing to know that i won't be riding every inch of the way, but i did have a great visit with Julie who had to wait for all the cyclists to come in that day. We were parked beside a beautiful herd of Pronghorn antelope, then later saw 2 tiny babies right beside the highway.

Sickness of every sort is hitting hard - even altitude sickness among those who have lived and worked at high altitudes. It's a fact of the exhaustion that even most of the young men are feeling.

I even discovered while riding in the desert, that it's possible to fall asleep on a bike. i had checked my rear tire while riding, became mesmerized by the pumping of my knees and nearly drifted off to sleep. Crazy what a person can do!

Yesterday was a hard climb into Kremmling, but it was so beautiful to be in the Rockies that everyone was excited. The alpine flowers were in full bloom and there were snow=capped peaks. Just outside Craig, a sandhill crane flew across my path and landed in a nearby swamp. There are lots of songbirds everywhere, ferns, white oak, and gurgling streams. One more hard day and we're in Denver. That is so hard to believe. I may have to take the SAG wagon part of the way as today i had zero energy and just made this short, but fun ride with Dora into Winter Park. We even had time for the pool at the YMCA camp where we're staying.

Time to eat again!

A cow carousel

2008-07-20T14:02:00.000-07:00

Note to those who comment on the blog. i receive them as emails first so it takes a while to be added here.

We had a really pleasant ride a few days ago through southern Idaho which is dairy farm country. Lovely homes shaded by huge trees - we all really appreciate every shade tree we pass!! Ted Miller, a local farmer, invited us all to visit his small/medium dairy farm and drink milk en route. His herd of 3000 cattle, 1700 of which get milked 3 times each day, was remarkable. The farm was spotless, but what thrilled most of us was watching the herd filing into a barn onto a huge turning wheel which holds 50 cows. As the wheel turns, the cows are checked, cleaned, milked, and udders dipped before they are forced out to pasture again. It reminded me of La Ronde in Edm or the dining room in the Calgary Tower. I wondered if they used more Bag Balm than we cyclists. BB is veterinary antiseptic for udders that cyclists use to prevent chafing tender parts.

The CRC in Twin Falls provided a lovely picnic lunch on cool green grass after we had ridden over the spectacular gorge over the Shoshone River. Some more energetic cyclists rode offroute down a gorge to view Twin Falls. I bought the postcard.

We have had long hot days through a lot of sage and desert, desert, desert, but there is always something to see like turkey vultures circling overhead eyeing me I'm sure, pelicans fishing, carp half out of the water as they searched for food, flying cormorants and a great rocket display at ATK, a rocket building facility that goes on for miles. That was a good day overall. I had started early on my own, then joined up with Clare, Fred and Larry for the rest of the route which meant nature stops and talks along the way. It also meant ice cream treats in Brigham City at an old-fashioned diner.

Camping at Willard Bay a night ago was great. We were right on the beach and the water was warm. The Bay is part of the Great Salt Lake, separated from the salt water by miles of breakwater, so that the fresh water of Bear River feeds it. On the other side was the red rock ridge of the Sawatch Mtns. Leaving there by 6:30 am in order to ride in cool air was a challenge, but at the start of a 100 mile (155 km) day, a necessity. I didn't pack the praying mantis that took a look at my tent, then decided he probably would be an uninvited guest, a correct assumption on his part, but he was cute! We have all been packing earwigs since Washington, part of a musical exercise in which they are shaken off each tent and on to a neighbour's in the morning. Someone has described our living situation correctly as intensity (in tent city).

Yesterday was brutal! Although the first 60 miles passed easily with lots of homes and shops along the way, the miles from Salt Lake City to camp at Jordanelle State Park was one hard climb after another in 100 F weather. I began with the Meyer family and Roland, but wasn't feeling too well and couldn't keep up. I spent 13.5 hours, in the saddle most of the time, and arrived at camp after supper, just in time to set up my tent before dark. Rose, one of the cooks, arrived early at Jordanelle and thought correctly the situation here would be enough to break the camel's back. It was. I'm not the only cyclist who found a spot to have a good cry when we realized that our gear truck and kitchen would be on one hill, our tents a good 15 min walk away on another hill where there is a washroom, and the showers another good 15 min walk in another direction. The looks of disbelief as each cyclist was given the news were memorable. The beach is another 15 min away downhill in a different direction. That was my big trip for today.

To sleep, perchance to dream

2008-07-13T14:57:00.000-07:00

Sleeping in a tent each night may have seemed like a small challenge for nine weeks, but what I hadn't expected was the number of midnight interruptions. For the most part we camp in high school fields and use their almost always beautiful shower facilities. What seems to be forgotten at times is the automatic sprinkler systems which tend to be activated when most people are asleep. That's fine if your tent has been battened down, but on these warm nights, sometimes flies are not attached, or in Greg Dyk's case, the head pops up in the tent vestibule (the space between the fly and the actual tent) ready to soak the sleeper inside. We had such an incident at 1 a.m. last night when a strange sound awakened me. Fortunately my tent remained watertight, but others weren't so lucky. Quick action to cover the heads with garbage cans, water bottles weighed down by bricks and anything else available saved a few people a wet night.

In Huntington, the baking hot empty field became a howling maelstorm in a few minutes while we were eating supper. One young woman's tent went rolling across the field, pegs attached, up a hill, over a concrete barrier, caught momentarily against a tree, then disappeared from view. Three sprinters took after it and managed to retrieve the tent but their legs were covered with thorns and scratches. All night the wind howled and gusted to about 80 kph making sleep difficult. Some chose to abandon their tents and bed down in the much quieter gym, but most of us just checked our pegs and listened to the wind screaming and battering the tents all night

Although Tuesday was a low day for me partly due to a nagging cold that has sapped my energy, I did enjoy the much less strenuous riding the rest of the week and feel almost ready for tomorrow's. The temperature today fell a little (about 96F) which was a bit of a relief. And there have been several ice cream stops when the opportunity presents itself especially at day's end.

My favourite treat was a drive with Betsy to a stream outside Huntington where 9 of us avoided the huge (3 ft)poison ivy bushes, as marked by Clare the forester, and found our way down an embankment to the water. Brian, a character from PEI who played Garth Brooks on his bike radio for me as we rode together, says he would never travel without his personal botanist. That's a good idea in this country where washrooms can be far apart. A duck into the sparsely growing bushes means watching out for rattlesnakes, thorns of many descriptions, poison ivy and poison sumac. It was a quickly flowing creek which we walked upstream a few times, then floated back down. Lovely green willows overhung the embankments. The younger group, including Marty Minnesma, tried to dam the water with their backs while it was all I could do to stay on my feet and avoid the rocks. God's jacuzzi was SO relaxing after a hot day's ride.

And,yes, I have seen quite a few snakes,some of them rattlers, but they were a little flat when they couldn't outrun the cars. And I have pulled thorns out of my cycling shorts after a quick break in the sage brush. Most of last week's ride took us along rolling roads past farmhouses shaded by huge trees and fields of various descriptions - potatoes, Swiss chard, mint, dill, corn (my preferred washroom stop), and farms with horses, cows, goats, burros, mules and crowing roosters.

As one of the cyclists said, the people we talk with along the way were enthusiastic enough from Seattle onward, but now that we have cycled through Washington and Oregon and into Idaho, we are gaining great reactions and interest in the causes. Many motorists and farmers along the way have taken our cards and spontaneously offered to contribute to end the cycle of poverty for some. It is a great feeling to see the effect that we are having on complete strangers.

Another favourite day was July 4th. We were royally treated to a dinner that started with Mexican appetizers, the main course was polled pork and beef with all the trimmings, and strawberry shortcake for dessert presented by the churches in Sunnyside. Afterward we walked to a CRC church where we were offered root beer floats, then walked across the street to the local track for a real Fourth of July celebration of speeches, rousing music and fireworks. A long walk back to camp made me ready for bed, but all night fireworks were being shot off, cars were driving close by, dogs were barking, coyotes howling, then the morning birds started chirping. Still it was a fun experience.

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The line above is where I drifted off to sleep with my fingers on the keyboard. Perhaps it's time to end for today.

Jane & George - I have carried your birthday card with me so far with good intentions of course. I hope you had a great party. I'll try to find your address now that I have stamps and a place to mail it.

Shauna - I will miss your birthday, too! All the best - a card is in the mail.

Spills and thrills

2008-07-09T16:56:00.000-07:00

I could begin by saying how hot it is but i think you have the idea by now. Today was an easy day, just 50 miles through gentle, rolling countryside with snow on the mountains to the east and west. The occasional huge willow provided a little relief from the sun as I pedalled as quickly as i could for 15 miles in a pace line with Dora and Alida, both from Ontario. On the first gentle rise, they left me in the dust. There were lots of gorgeous photo ops and lots of opportunity to stop for treats along the way, even a washroom or two.

For some great stories i would recommend Josh Krabbe's blog about his 280 km epic ride with 2 of the faster cyclists. Photos from digitally equipped cameras are on www.flicker.com see SeatoSea08. I haven't checked that myself, but they should be there. I have a fairly unique helmet, white with a flat back, and wear a black fanny pack. My handlebar bag is red and black and I wear either a pinki/orange/yellow flowered jersey or a turquoise one or the SeatoSea official one. On the steepest downhills I have managed to achieve my land speed record of 60+ kph. Really fun on a smooth empty highway which winds down for miles and miles to LaGrande.

All is well, (Mom, especially)! My only problems have been relatively minor - a fall in the shower of all things which left both wrists bruised but fine for riding - a bee sting on my leg - and a fall off my bike while stopped with 6 people to witness it. I had stopped, and just didn't swing my leg high enough to clear the bar. I'm not the only one to do that!!

The sights are magnificent and the park where we stayed last weekend in Kennewick was out of this world beautiful. Imagine Bowness 21 miles long beside the Columbia River which is about 1000 ft wide at that point and huge sycamores, willows and other shade trees. None of us wanted to leave.

I'm on duty now to help with supper and clear up after - part of the 24 hour sweep team's job.

Sage, mint, egrets & pelicans

2008-07-07T19:57:00.000-07:00

108F on a cyclist's readout!! Our ride today took us through part of the Sonora Desert. We followed the Snake River for part of the day then climbed steadily but at a gentle slope for miles and miles until just outside Pendleton. Although the hills are dry and covered with sage and cactus, there is a lot of irrigation in the valley and wheat, alfalfa, barley, potatoes, mint and other crops are grown. most of the day was on good paved roads with not too much traffic which was a blessing as it takes the stress of constantly watching what is happening in front and behind. I am still cycling with the Meyers and enjoying

Bow Vallley Parkway

2008-07-02T22:00:00.000-07:00

I wrote this before we had satellite internet access, so it's out of order:

The Last Big Training Day – end of May

“Hey Ger,” I called over my shoulder, “ You want to lead?”

“No, Flash, you're doing just great!” Gerry's boisterous laugh echoed through the valley.

Until shortly before that time, Glenda 'the speed demon' Wong had been out front. On a long winding downhill, though, my lighter skinny-tired road bike eased away from their heavier mountain bikes. I was thoroughly enjoying the speed and momentary isolation in the deep woods along the Bow Valley Parkway, the narrow two-laned old highway between Banff and Lake Louise. We had cycled close to three herds of Rocky Mountain bighorn sheep, a huge male elk with an impressive set of antlers and a couple of white-tailed deer on the outbound trip. Now on the return trip, a friendly Newfie (Is there another kind?) had warned me of a bear ahead. I slowed a bit to tighten the formation with Glenda and Gerry. We rode along, cautiously watching the road and scanning the brush. Around a bend a few vehicles pulled to the side indicating an animal in sight. Sure enough, there he was, a significantly large black bear happily chowing down across a field and completely ignoring his admirers. Three sighs of relief could be heard as we put the vehicles between us and him.

Not too much further along, an approaching driver slowed and called out his window, “Watch out for the bears.” Glenda, in the lead once more, called back, 'Bears, plural?” “Yup,” was the answer. Keeping close together, we could see brake lights ahead, then the cutest, fuzziest cinnamon-coloured cub on the highway. Gulp! Where was Mom grizzly? Again we were relieved to discover a very small black bear with another cub a short distance away nonplussed as her babies caused a human commotion. Glenda and Gerry 'Boomer' Beitel decided the cubs must be a year old due to their size in relation to the size of the mother.

Our long-awaited training day had been a tremendous success with perfect weather and all three of us feeling great at the end of the 103 km.

Incidentally, I think the name 'Flash' refers more to the colour of my pink, orange & yellow cycling jersey than to the speed at which I ride. My longtime hiking gurus, G&G, had decided that every pro cyclist, or in this case, long-distance cyclist needs a handle for the road.

Been there,done that

2008-07-02T19:31:00.000-07:00

Hi all

It's a hot one today - 102F and we had the blewett pass to do. But it's under my tires now and I feel like a real cyclist. i've been really busy just keeping up with all the various activities and crashing at night. We're in ellensberg tonight. Sorry about the caps, but this tiny keyboard will take some adjusting.

I'm definitely not one of the fast ones, or even the medium speed people, but I actually felt fine after yesterday's unrelenting climb to the Steven's Pass Summit. I just took my time, stopping under every bit of shade, and drinking a hundred gallons of water and anything else liquid.

The whole experience has been great so far. The food is fabulous and there is always someone around to help with every little, and big, problem. Bob from Wisconsin was the first person I met as he carried Josh's bike into the dorms at University of Washington. What a beautiful campus! Huge shade trees and wonderful architecture. The quad has magnificent rose gardens and a view of Mt. Baker. It was hot and steamy though, a record breaking heat wave in Seattle. I had to park a couple of blocks up the mountain from my dorm which meant carrying all my 60 lbs of gear and bike, plus Josh Krabbe's. Then the next day, brothers Alex and Erik from Michigan lugged my gear bag to the second dorm when I had to move. The next big haul was down another mountain to the Sea to Sea trucks parked below. I thought the biking would be easy after all that!

Well, it hasn't been easy in the least, but it has been fun. We first rode 20 miles to Golden Garden Beach along the beautiful Burke-Gilman bike path which follows the canal with many sailboats and yachts and a working drawbridge and lovely park areas. We stayed in our bike safety groups which were formed to teach us some of the rules of the road and cool cyclist-speak. The sessions were professionally presented by the 20,000 strong (not a typo) Cascade Bike Club. Then we had road trials, stopping, starting, avoiding rocks, etc. I can yell "Car Up", "Car back", 'Rock", and "Ew" and make the appropriate hand signals. The latter was coined by melinda when she saw her first snake.

It has been a very social event - meeting people from all over and discovering connections. Someone suggested a huge Bingo board where all the people we know in common could be listed. I played leap frog with Gerry Schenk from Edm yesterday up to the summit. Pat/Terry - he worked with Prince. At the summit, we celebrated victory with Clare from Vernon, Dora from Renfrew, Leanne from the DR, Agnes Wolstenholme's brother Fred from Red Deer. Sharon - today I rode a fair way with Tony Schweitzer. He pulled me in through the long hot road to here.

Sorry pelaton meeting = got to go.

Training in the wind and rain

2008-05-28T16:10:00.000-07:00

One foot of water rushing from the Elbow River across the Weaselhead bike path looked rather ominous. I walked rather than risk hitting something underwater, though I had just run over a big bump on the asphalt that I knew was smooth. Perhaps another less fortunate cyclist? My waterproof booties were not designed to wear underwater apparently.