Do I Look Deaf?

OK, I'll admit that it has been a while since I have posted anything. Well, I don't really have a good excuse or anything other that to say that I've been busy with other stuff. Sorry.

But I thought I would relate a small segment of what happened on my ride today. I found it interesting, anyway.

I decided that today would be a good day to ride from the house up to the Edmonds-Kingston ferry and go for a ride out on the Kitsap peninsula. It's the second time recently that I've done this. Last week I crossed over to Kingston and then rode down to Bainbridge Island to catch the ferry back to downtown Seattle and then rode home from there. Today I figured I would just go on a shorter loop on the Peninsula just to see some views I hadn't seen yet.

I got a little off course on my way to the ferry today and got there just as it was coming in from the Kingston side. Still, I had plenty of time and still stopped at the little espresso stand next to the waiting lanes to grab a granola round as a late lunch ($1.60 vs. $3.00 if you get it onboard). The way they have it set up is that bicycles and motorcycles go up to the front to board first as long as loading hasn't started yet, so I made my way up to the bicycle holding area where I was by myself. There were probably 15 motorcycles. As soon as the incoming crowd was off-loaded they waved me on, followed shortly by the motos and then the cars. I tied off my bike and went up to the passenger deck to eat my granola round.

I ended up sitting near the westward end in front of a couple of motorcyclists. They were talking about just general stuff and I was just sitting and eating. I think they started out talking about the hazards of SCUBA rapid ascents (though they had their physics wrong - not that I corrected them), and then moved on to griping about politics/politicians. Then they started in on bicycles. Hmm. I am pretty sure they could see me sitting with my helmet and cycling gear still on less than 5 feet away. Hmm.

Oh, it started out with complaining about all of the new bicycle lanes. Specifically, I think their main 'point' was that cyclists don't pay any road use taxes and that we (cyclists) should have to pay a licensing fee. Then they complained that bicycles get to board first and they have to wait until we are on the ferry. Next was the general scofflaw nature of all cyclists (we all run red lights and stop signs, we all ride three wide down the middle of the street, we don't ride on the sidewalks where we "belong", et cetera). Then, of course, was the fact that we all look down our noses at other people. Yada yada yada.

The ranting continued on, touching on how one guy's coworker was a cyclist and had made some comment about overly aggressive drivers at work one day...

And then one of them made the following statement: "Yeah, I guess everyone is an assh#le until proven otherwise."

Sensing an opportunity, I stood up and turned to face them. Then I laid out the following (as close to verbatim as I can recall) - in a perfectly calm and non-confrontational tone:

"You know, guys, I can't really disagree with you completely on any of the points you made, but I don't think you are seeing the whole picture."

[shock on their faces; maybe they thought I wouldn't dare say anything?]

"First, you are correct that I don't pay road use taxes for my bicycle. But for one thing, I don't have anywhere near the same impact on the road infrastructure that engine-driven vehicles do. What next? Do you then start charging pedestrians to walk on the road? Also, every cyclist I personally know also owns at least one car - I have three in my driveway - that they do pay road use taxes on. Besides, I think the biggest reason that bicycles don't have to be licensed is that it would cost more to register and placard bikes, including enforcement, than it would bring in. And maybe you should just consider that bike lanes help keep bicycles out of the flow of traffic and slowing it down"

[silence from the two of them, but people are starting to listen in]

"I believe that your next point was that bicyclists board the ferries first. Frankly, I agree there. I would actually prefer to board last and leave last just so I'm not getting passed by a steady stream of a few hundred cars that just came off the ferry behind me. But I didn't make that decision. If you don't like the policy, you should call the Washington State DOT. But you know, I'm guessing that those several hundred cars might complain about you guys getting to go around to the head of the line, too, now that I think about it."

[still silent, but squirming a little - and there are now about 15 other people standing by listening in]

"You also mention that bicyclists are all scofflaws, but I can assure you that not all of us are by any means. I follow the rules of the road - not the sidewalk, where I don't belong - when I ride, even when cars - and motorcycles - around me don't. Yes, I have seen the guys you complain about and I don't like it either, especially since the 5 to 10 percent of those doing it paint the rest of us in a bad light. I think we would do well to teach school kids bicycling safety so they know how to follow the rules of the road, but currently it is mostly a grass-roots effort in a lot of areas. I would also point out that many drivers tend to see you guys in a negative light based on the actions of some motorcyclists riding dangerously in traffic or just being perceived as being "hellions", so I would think that you might be a little more understanding in this regard."

[still very silent, looking toward the floor - surrounding people look interested, though]

"No discussion about the points I'm making?"

[s-i-l-e-n-c-e]

"Okay, well, I'll leave you with this final thought. That statement you made about everyone being an assh#le until proven otherwise? Yeah, I think you were dead-on with that one. Have a pleasant afternoon, gentlemen."

At this point I turned to go, stopping long enough to throw away the wrapper from my lunch. A couple of the bystanders came walking with me back down to the car deck. One of them said "Very eloquent. You know, I don't think you're an ash#le". "Thanks," I replied, "You either."

__________________________________________________________

The story isn't over yet. I got down to the car deck and untied my bicycle from the securing point as others got back into their cars - or on their motorcycles. Once the ramp was in place the deck hand looked over at me and was about to give me the signal to go ahead when two of the motorcyclists charged ahead off of the ferry, almost knocking the deckhand down. Guess which two?

__________________________________________________________

Story still isn't quite over. I rode off the ferry and started up the roadway just in time to notice two motorcycles (guess which two) go blasting right through a red light. Right in front of a Kingston Police cruiser. Lights flash, motorbikes stop on roadside, so on and so forth. It took about every bit of restraint I had not to say "Hmph. Scofflaws." as I rode past. I didn't, but I sure thought about it.

Exploring the River Trail

One thing Seattle has a lot of is bicycle trails. The big one that I tend to touch on a lot of my rides is the Burke-Gilman trail, but until recently I hadn't actually been all the way from one end to the other. The Burke-Gilman is about 17 miles long from one end to the other, which would make it a 34 mile round trip. The thing is, I don't live at either end but rather I usually connect in somewhere near the middle. I've gone south and west to end up on the Seaview Avenue trail to Golden Gardens park, and I've gone north and east out to Kenmore, but I never made it quite to the end out that way. Had I realized before just how close I'd been...

Last week I decided to go north and east and just keep going until I ran out of trail. I got to where I'd been before and only went just a little past when I discovered that the Burke-Gilman ended and the Sammamish River Trail began. Actually, another trail started out near there, and I took it to the north first, only to turn around when it disappeared after about 3 miles. Then I figured that the Sammamish route should be tested.

Back toward the beginning of January, MG and I drove out to Woodinville to try to find a winery we could visit. We specifically wanted to go to the Chateau St. Michelle winery, and after figuring out that the GPS didn't really know Woodinville all that well I was able to backtrack and locate it. We did the tour and then joined the Vintner's Club, if only because they hold outdoor concerts in the summer for club members. And we aren't just talking about some unknown bands here. Last year they had (among others) both Elvis Costello and Diana Kraal, though surprisingly not at the same time. MG even surprised me on the trip home that day by saying that it was her goal to get on the tandem and get to where we can ride to some of the concerts this summer. I figured that the Burke-Gilman would be part of our route, but that we'd have to exit onto local roads to go the last several miles.

I was wrong. I found this out on my ride last week.

As I rode along the Sammamish River trail I figured that I would have to hit Google Maps when I got home to try to find out exactly where I'd been riding. That was before I suddenly realized "Hey, that building looks familiar." Sure enough, I was riding right past the winery grounds. What I thought would be several miles of Woodinville roads to reach it turned out to be just a 1/4 mile or so to go from the trail to the entrance. Serendipity strikes again.

Of course, it's going to take a while before we can do that ride. From our new house (we move in early next month) the ride out to the winery is about 15 miles one way. MG hasn't been riding for quite a long time, so we're going to have to build up to that kind of distance for her and then hope that she recovers enough at the concert to be able to ride back. I think we can do it, though. We've got 4 or 5 months to work with and we get the tandem back out of storage once we move.

Personally, I'm looking forward to it. Especially since I now know how to get there from the Sammamish River Trail.

A Farewell to Knoxville (at least for now)

Having grown up in Kingsport, Tennessee, I was well aware of Knoxville from an early age, if not as a place to go to, then certainly as a place to go through. My grandparents were all in Atlanta, so more often than not we would travel through Knoxville and on through Chattanooga on our way to visit. I guess my earliest memories of Knoxville are of the Arby’s on Kingston Pike near Papermill and of the gas stations at Cedar Bluff. The first time I can remember Knoxville as a destination would be when my father took us to go see the Ringling Bros./Barnum & Bailey Circus at the Civic Coliseum. In 1982 Knoxville became a destination for millions with the World’s Fair (I only visited once that summer, but I remember it well).

My college career began in 1983 at Tennessee Tech in Cookeville studying mechanical engineering, so Knoxville was again relegated to ‘place I pass through and stop for gas, maybe’. There were a few times that some of my friends and I would make a trip to Knoxville for an event, but more often our destination was Nashville.

After a few years at Tech, I decided that I’d change my major to Architecture, which was a program not offered there, so I transferred to the University of Tennessee. My stay in the Architecture program was brief (long story there) so I transferred into the civil engineering program at UT, and then determined I could finish my degree quicker if I returned to Tech. Thus my stay in Knoxville was only about 6 or 7 months at that point, but I was glad to at least leave my cockroach-infested apartment behind.

In 1988 my then girlfriend (and future wife) left Auburn University to attend the UT College of Veterinary Medicine in Knoxville, so I suddenly found myself making the trip from Cookeville to Knoxville almost every weekend. My knowledge of all that Knoxville had to offer expanded greatly during the next two years until I graduated from Tech in 1989 with a degree in civil engineering.

Degree in hand, and knowing that my girlfriend/fiancée had to stay at UT to complete her degree until 1992, I decided to concentrate my job search in the Knoxville area and landed a job in Oak Ridge, only minutes away from west Knoxville. I moved into an apartment next door to a high school/college friend/fraternity brother and began my twenty-year stay in Knoxville. I married my wife (aka MG) one year later and we moved into a slightly larger apartment.

After she graduated, we decided that we might as well settle in to Knoxville as our home. I had my job, and she found work in west Knoxville, so we moved into our first house for the next four years or so.

I found myself on the road for most of 1995 through 2000, but always with Knoxville as my home base. Since her career was in Knoxville, MG stayed home while I was wandering about the wilds of northern New York, northern Maine, and northern Alabama (you know, all of those “northern” places). In 1996 MG sold our house and moved in to house sit for some friends on an assignment in Maine. That same year we bought some land (backing up to another fraternity brother’s property) and started building a new house. I was home for most of the winter that our house was being built, so MG and I were able to put in a bit of the work ourselves including tiling, painting, and installing the dining room hardwood floor. We moved in during the spring of 1997 just before I shipped out again.

I finally finished my stint on the road in late 2000 and got assigned to a project out in Oak Ridge again, so I was able to begin feeling like I actually lived in Knoxville again. This was about the same time that MG made a career change and started being a road warrior in her own right, though she spent more nights at home than I had ever been able to.

Most of the real connections that I have in Knoxville started after 2000. I got back into cycling through a friend at our church, and from there joined a cycling club sponsored by my favorite local bike shop. Many of the people that I feel closest to now have come from branches of one of those two trees; cycling or our church Sunday School class. There are exceptions, of course, including friends from MG’s veterinary career and from the car club we belonged to for many years.

So fast forward now to 2009. MG’s career has progressed as she has moved up through the ranks at her company. We originally thought that the next step for her would be a move to the home office near Philadelphia, PA, but instead she was offered a position that would better allow her to utilize her medical background as well as her other experience with the company. The catch? The position is to cover the Pacific Northwest region of the country. We looked at the region, studied our options, and decided that Seattle, a city we had already visited and liked, would be the location to host the next phase of our lives. We moved into a small rental house in Seattle with about half of our possessions in September.

We had put our house in Knoxville on the market in July. We knew it would be tough to sell a house in the existing market following the economic chaos of the previous two years, and indeed it was. Showings were sporadic, and though feedback from those showings was generally positive, we had no offers since the market was flooded with houses in the same price and size range. We realized that it would take someone coming in and falling in love with the house the same as we did. In December it finally happened.

We went under contract in mid-December and I returned from Seattle in January 2010 to get the remainder of our stuff moved from the house in Knoxville to a storage facility in the Seattle area. Due to a mix-up we were not aware that the closing date had been moved up until just a day or two before my trip, so it turned out that closing was scheduled only hours before my return flight to Seattle.

I spent my week in Knoxville dealing with details concerning the move during the days and trying to get together with friends in the evenings. That worked on Monday through Wednesday, but Thursday didn’t turn out so well. Snow started falling early that day and the movers were not able to finish up by 1:00pm as they had predicted, but rather at 5:00pm. I still had too much to do, what with hauling away excess cardboard boxes and recyclable paper and plastic, to meet with the friends I was scheduled to have dinner with. As it turned out, the chef at the restaurant even called me to say that he might have to close due to the snow. Snow was quickly making the roads very slick and icy.

I’d intended to spend the night at my friend JB’s house, but I found that I couldn’t get the rental car up his driveway. Other friends had previously offered a room for that night, but I quickly narrowed it down to only one place where the roads were flat enough that I wouldn’t have to worry about getting in and out, so I spent my last evening at K&K’s.

I got up the next morning and decided to head straight to the title company office rather than run any of the last-minute errands I had planned. I got there early for our closing, but they let me go ahead and start signing the paperwork I needed to sign. I left there hoping to have lunch with Wally before I had to be at the airport, but time had slipped too far away from me. Yet another casualty of the snow.

So now I no longer have any ties to Knoxville other than the emotional ones. I do not know that this is the way it will stay, though. For some reason I don’t think Knoxville has seen the last of MG and me. Maybe in 5 or 10 years our paths may turn that way again. Meanwhile we will still visit periodically (my next visit is scheduled for two weekends from now, in fact).

So farewell for now, Knoxville. Farewell, and good luck.

Storm Chasing

Actually, that title is more about storms chasing me. They haven't caught me yet, but ...

I went out for a ride yesterday afternoon. We are into the rainy season here in the Pacific Northwest, so every day when it isn't raining, or if there's a good clear window of time, the bike's siren call seems to get louder. There have been three days in the last two weeks when I have actually gotten out. Today may end up being another. If this keeps up, I'll have to buy more cold weather gear (or do laundry more often).

So yesterday seemed like an opportune time to go see how far the Burke Gilman trail goes to the west. A quick ride down 15th led me to it, and a turn to the right sent me the direction I wanted to go.

I can see the allure of the trail right now. It skirts along several urban areas, allowing you to ride without having to constantly watch for cars (except where the trail crosses roads). Watching for other cyclists and for pedestrians is another matter, but at least right now there aren't as many out there as during the summer or on a weekend.

The Burke Gilman ended quicker than I expected it to. I knew it would end, but I didn't think I'd gone that far when it did. So I hit some urban streets (with at least some markings for cyclists from time to time) and headed further west through Fremont/Ballard, rather than crossing a bridge toward downtown. I will have to cross one of these days, but yesterday wasn't the day.

Right about at the Chittendam Locks (aka, the Ballard Locks) I picked up trail again and followed it as it curled north along the western shore of northern Seattle, ending up at Golden Gardens Park. From there I had two choices. I could turn around and go back the way I came, or I could climb this heinous-looking hill up the ridge. MG and I had driven on it before, so I knew it would be steep. Looking to the southwest, I noted that the clouds - dark clouds - were starting to mass and move in my direction. Going south would be toward them. I climbed the hill.

Now maybe I'm just used to climbing by now. After all, I usually rode some very steep stuff back in TN. I've also ridden a goodly portion of the Blue Ridge Parkway several times. (Sitting here typing this, it is very hard to reconcile just how far away those places are now.) I kept preparing myself for the climb to be worse than it was. I am out of shape, after all, having not ridden very much this year (I've had other stuff going on, OK?). I also haven't been climbing since I finally went cold-turkey off of the beta-blockers. But it wasn't so bad. That's not to say that it was easy - it wasn't - but it wasn't what I'd mentally prepared myself for. Maybe that was the difference.

I got to the top and realized that the quickest way back to the house was to head due east on 85th. A glance over my shoulder at the clouds motivated me to get going, perhaps a little faster than I meant to. 85th rolls a little as it crosses north Seattle, and I was out of the saddle moving quickly up each uphill section. I crossed several major roads, rode with a lot of traffic (but was able to maintain about the same speed, mostly), and finally turned down Wallingford to get from 85th to 80th. I figured that crossing the bridge over I-5 on 80th would be a little better than doing it over 85th.

After the bridge, a quick right on Banner Way led me to 75th, and then it was only about 4 blocks or so back to the house. I jumped off, headed into the house, stripped off my outer layer and sat in a stupor due to pushing harder than I'd meant to. But I felt justified about five minutes later. When the clouds reached the house.

And then it rained for a while (and I dozed off dreaming of riding on the Blue Ridge Parkway).

'Crossed Up

I went to see my first Washington State cycling event today. It was the Woodland Park Grand Prix event (First Annual, they say, but I don't think the 'First' denotes 'Annual' until after it has been repeated).

I actually didn't even know about the event until this morning over breakfast. I was eating my breakfast while flipping through the most recent Seattle Weekly independent newspaper when I saw the notice for the race. The first heat was to start at 9:30am, but since I had to have MG at the airport at 9am (closer to 9:10, actually), and it's a 30 minute drive back, I figured I'd miss the start anyway. Of course I only barely missed it, since I have seen very few race events that have actually started on time.

It was a long and winding course. Most of the races I've attended/scored/officiated in Knoxville, TN have been a bit shorter, I think, but maybe not. Maybe it only seemed that way. Now that I think of it, the lap times were fairly similar.

The weather cooperated with the race, which is to say that it was cold and drizzling. That's the way a cyclocross race should be though. A little snow and it would have been perfect.

I hung around near the finish line to watch the last half of the first heat, the second heat, and part of the third. It was a little strange being at a 'cross race where I wasn't either racing or officiating. I'm way out of shape for participating, and I haven't had any local race contacts to do any officiating, though I did talk to a couple of guys today and offered my services in future events if needed.

To be honest, though, I did get to do my small bit to help out. The race announcers were working from on top of a truck near the finish line. At one point during the second heat the wind gusted and blew a couple of their start lists down to the ground below. I walked over and retrieved them for the guys and handed them back up, wet as they were. Not much, but at least I got to do something useful.

... Found

The keys have been located. I spent a goodly amount of time last night looking high and low before it suddenly occurred to me where I'd stuffed the keys to my bike locks. I'm not going to say where I found them. I may want to use that hiding place again. It obviously worked pretty good this time, eh?

So, with that crisis averted, I found myself with the ability to actually go for a ride this afternoon. I had a few chores and such to finish first, so it was almost 3:30 before I got out there, which limited my ride time. Why? 'Cause it gets dark here early. Like, before 5:00 (actually, sunset was at 4:39 today according to Weather.com). Yeah, I have lights, but I'd rather not have to carry them if I don't have to.

I did have one chore that I waited to do, figuring that I could easily accomplish it by bicycle. Thus, I left the house and headed straight to the Post Office box first thing (1 piece of mail, which is better than wasting my time on none). Having done that, I headed ENE to a spot just north of Lake City where I thought I could pick up the Burke-Gilman Trail according to Google Maps. Google Maps lied. That's my story, anyway, since I refuse to entertain the thought that I could have misread the map, like maybe if I thought it said 137th instead of 157th or something. No way. They lied. I can't back that up, though. They must have corrected it while I was out riding, thus obliterating the truth of it. Yeah.

Well, I found the trail anyway, but not until after I wandered about for a little while (nothing wrong with that, though. Tolkien said "Not all those who wander are lost"). There weren't as many people out on the trail today as there were a few Sundays ago. Maybe the cooler weather kept them in. Or maybe there was a good football game on TV. I don't have TV right now, so I wouldn't know. I do plan on having it before le Tour de France next summer, though. I mean, I'm not crazy or anything. Still, I won't complain about less trail traffic. Maybe I should just become a die-hard winter rider so I can spend the next several months getting back in shape without having to dodge runners, walkers, young families who stretch out across the width of the trail and act indignant if you alert them that you'd actually like to pass their precious like tykes on his and/or her tricycle, ... the list goes on.

I did get home just before sunset, at about 4:35. And then, just as I was carrying my bike up the front stairs and before I could get my keys out and go inside, my cell phone started ringing and I had to stand outside talking for the next 10 minutes until I could hang up and dig my keys out of my carryall. How does she do that? How does she always know when it's a bad time to call? How?!?

Lost and ...

Hmm, now where did I put those things?

Well, I'm back in Seattle, and it has actually been raining here over the last few days. I know, crazy, huh? It was nice enough on Wednesday after I got back, but I didn't have an opportunity to ride my bike that day. I had to go retrieve my dogs (no pun intended) from the kennel and get the cat from the vet's and grocery shop and ... well, you get the idea. And then it has rained.

It's supposed to be a little nicer than that on Sunday according to the Weather Channel. I'd like to get out there if I can, but I have a little problem right now. What could that be? Well, I can't find my key.

OK, so what does a key have to do with cycling? Everything, when it's the key that goes to the lock that is wrapped around all of my bikes in the basement. Why did I lock them up if they are in the basement? Well, I'd heard of a rash of local break-ins lately, and since we were gone for 12 days, I figured that if someone did break in, I wasn't going to make it easy on them.

Except that now I haven't made it easy on myself, either. I feel certain that wherever I put that key, at the time I thought I would have no problem remembering where I'd left it. Ha! Shows how much I know, huh? Hmph.

So, here's hoping I can find the key to that lock, or at least find the other key that goes to my tool case where my hacksaw is, by the time the rain lets up for a while. Of course, some folks back home think I've got until April.

Man, I sure hope they're wrong.

12 Hours of the Hill of Truth Report

What a muddy mess it was. And that was just in the Start/Finish area.

The race started at 11 am on Saturday under cloudy skies. It wasn't raining then, but there had been some rain overnight which, combined with all of the rains over the last few weeks, meant that the trails were fairly saturated.

I was in the field where the race started, and just after that I headed out to walk the route backwards. I walked up Saddle trail to the top of the ridge. I noted that it wasn't muddy there, but that the leaf cover on the trail was still intact at that point. It wouldn't take too many tires going by to change that, and reportedly, it didn't.

I stood at the top of Saddle for a long time, waiting for everyone on their first lap to go by. There were a couple of guys out there who were riding one lap on a tandem, so I had to make sure I saw that. I'd planned on getting a lot of photos, but light scattered light rains came along, and MG called me and wanted to talk for about 10 minutes, so I didn't end up getting a whole lot of shots up there. I did see the guys on the tandem, though.

After that, I continued on walking the route in reverse, policing the trail a bit as I went along (straightening out some markings, picking up a front fender, finding someone's race number...). I stopped once in a while to try a shot or two, but it just wasn't working out with the occasional light rain and the poor lighting conditions in the woods (and I don't think it's a good idea to hit racers with a flash in their eyes - unlike at least one other guy I heard about).

I ended up following the course all the way to the top of the Hill of Truth, which was maybe about half of the way around, and then turned and headed back to the Start/Finish area to hang out with everybody instead of wandering around with a camera and not taking very many pictures.

I had originally planned to head back out into the woods to try taking some long-exposure shots to get some light trails from the racer's headlamps, but by the time it got dark enough the rains started up a little harder than before, so I just stayed put. I did end up giving Jay a couple of breaks by taking over the scoring briefly.

The race itself ended up looking a lot like a war of attrition. Several teams ended up dropping out early, even before dark. By the time it had been dark for an hour I would guess that only half of the racers were still going. It had to be miserable out there. It was wet, it was muddy, and it was getting colder. Sometime around 9:30 or 10 pm the clouds parted and the moon came out. The bad thing was that the clouds had helped keep the temperature from dropping very fast. So it got cold quickly then, though I was at least prepared for that.

I saw riders come in with so much mud you couldn't tell what color their clothes or bikes were supposed to be. One guy came in with mud, grass and leaves trailing from his rear derailleur almost touching the ground. As people started leaving across the evening the camp area around the Start/Finish began to resemble dark brown peanut butter. Several cars and trucks lost traction and had to be pushed out. I saw ruts about 8" deep out there. I was happy that I had parked over in a gravel lot further up the road.

The race ends at 11 pm, but that only means that racers aren't allowed to start a new lap after that time. The last rider out had left at about 10:50 pm, so we had to wait until she got back near midnight before giving out the prizes (since the team she was on did place in the top three in their division). I helped with that, then helped break down the PA system, and then left.

I had planned way back in September that I would camp out with everybody else that night, and had left enough gear in my truck in Knoxville to do it. If it hadn't rained so much, I would have. Instead, I headed back to my truck, got out with no problem (and no mud), and went back to the house to sleep in a warm, dry bed.

In 11 years of the 12 Hours of the Hill of Truth, they had never had rain fall during the race before last night. I guess it was bound to happen sooner or later. Let's hope next year the race can be 'in the dry'.

Race Weekend

Tomorrow is the annual 12 Hours of the Hill of Truth mountain bike race at Haw Ridge near Oak Ridge, TN. I have been to all of these races since 2002 except for last year, but I had to miss that one to attend a wedding in Blowing Rock, NC for one of MG's friends. I'm happy to report that it worked out that I could be here for this year's race.

I was going to help John with some course set-up today, but most of that was already done. Where he needed my help was in the splitting out of all the the prizes donated by local bike shops and other sponsors into classification awards. That can be a very tough job, but I won't go into detail. That took us about three hours to get squared-away, at which point we finished up the marking of the start/finish/scoring area and setting aside t-shirts and glasses for the volunteers and sponsors.

Now the question is about the weather. The forecast has been calling for a 50% chance of rain tomorrow. The trail conditions at Haw Ridge are OK right now according to some of the folks who talked to us after they did practise laps today, but any rain will likely turn the trail surfaces into a soupy mire of muddy muck. I'm keeping my fingers crossed...

Go West, Young Man!

Well, it's done. The inhabitants of the former Casa de Big Guy have relocated to a new, temporary Casa de Big Guy. How temporary? That is anyone's guess. We are in a rental house in Seattle until our house in Knoxville sells and we can then afford a down-payment on a Seattle home. Anybody want a house in Knoxville? It's a nice house. It really is.

Mrs. Guy and I loaded up most (but not all) of our household items onto a moving truck on September 17th and 18th. Well, to be honest, we stood back and watched as the professional movers came in and did it. We also loaded up a rented minivan with all of the myriad things that we wanted to have with us in our rental house until the movers made it to Seattle. What kind of things? Well, enough clothing to get us through a couple of weeks if needed. An air mattress to sleep on (along with sheets, blanket and pillows), all of our computer gear, other miscellaneous stuff we'd want, my Ritchey Breakaway, and the cat. What? Only one bike? And what about the dogs? Not to worry. I drove the Mini Cooper Clubman with the dogs in the back and a bike and a cargo carrier on the roof. MG drove the van.

Ever since I told people we'd be moving to Seattle they've been going on about all the rain I would have to put up with. Well, that hasn't exactly borne out. It has been really rainy in Knoxville this summer and on up into the fall. It rained on us almost all of the first day of our drive from Knoxville to Kansas City, where we spent the first night. It rained for the first half of our drive from KC to Cheyenne on the second day. It was mostly sunny on the third day from Cheyenne to Boise, and sunny on the fourth (and last) day from Boise to Seattle. Then it stayed mostly sunny for our first three weeks in Seattle, with only a little rain during the fourth week, at which point we flew back to Knoxville for a couple of weeks so MG can have her second round of surgery. Yeah, it's still a little wet here. Go figure, right? Actually, Seattle averages less rain per year than Knoxville. It's just that during most years Knoxville gets the occasional downpour, whereas it rains more often in Seattle, but generally lightly.

So, you're still thinking I only have two bikes in Seattle, right? Wrong. Two of the bikes were boxed for me at the Bike Zoo (my Knoxville LBS) and loaded onto the moving truck. I left the tandem and my SS mountain beast - I mean bike - in Knoxville for now. They'll come in the final move when the house sells and we have a bigger place in Seattle. So I have the Ritchey, the Seven, the road SS, and my geared mountain bike in Seattle, and the other two in Knoxville.

Now then, those of you keeping score at home will remember that I had seven bikes. Well, the key word there is 'had'. I decided it was time for me to part company with the Kestrel. I hadn't been riding it much since I got the Seven, and space was at a premium, so I found it a new home with a friend of a friend. Besides, I could use the money.

Did I mention that I quit my job and don't have one out in Seattle yet? Don't worry, the hiatus was planned. I'll start my job search once MG is recovered from her surgery. Meanwhile I've been working on getting the house in order, getting essential services lined up, and acting as tour guide for MG's little sister when she showed up for a long weekend (she wanted to be our first visitor - I think she'll be first by a large margin).

So that's more or less a synopsis of our last couple of months. Maybe next time I'll actually discuss cycling in Seattle, the Emerald City.

Still here

I am updating posts today over on my other blog site, Dr. Deb's Surgery

Still Out There

I'm still out there.  Perhaps in more ways than one.

I know I haven't been posting much here (big shock, I know), but I have been posting a lot on the other site listed below about MG's (OK, it's 'Deb' - feel better?) surgery and recovery.  Still, once in a while I get a pass to go out on a ride.  I've gotten out two or three times during her recovery period, but I won't complain.  It's better than none.

On one of my rides I discovered something I didn't already know, though I might have suspected it.  Apparently, Hummer H3's are not required to stop at Stop signs in this state (or maybe it's all states?).  I take this revelation from empirical observations taken in a Farragut (West Knox County) suburban area.  Not one observation, but three, all in the space of twenty minutes and each observation was with a different vehicle (I can only assume it was a different driver).  Amazing, huh?

My latest ride was on Saturday with Joshua.  We'd planned on a greenway ride, but we modified the plan heavily.  The greenway runs through Volunteer Landing (by the water), but Joshua remembered that a wakeboarding competition was going on, so we took a major detour that led us across the river, behind the UT hospital, up a major climb (that reminded the 400 lb gorilla what its raison d'etre is), and  behind the old Baptist hospital building (where we could look down at the wakeboarders from a bluff high above).  We also ended up taking a big detour on the way back to stop for ice cream at Market Square, but that was only for the social experiment aspect of it.  Right.

My bike club is having a major ride on Sunday, which we call our 4th of July ride, even though it will be on the 5th.  No, we're not delusional.  I got a call from Ron tonight while I was driving home, so at least I know that he and Wally will be there, and I suspect Joshua as well.  There are three ride options:  100 miles, 62 miles, and 36 (or so) miles.  I think we'll be taking the short ride, but only because we want to get back and help grill hamburgers for everybody else.  Right (probably we'll serve best as 'food tasters').  Actually, I figure it's good to ride with those guys because they've all been riding about as much as I have this year (although I think Joshua has been a good bit more).

Stay tuned to this channel later this summer, though.  Some people have heard already, but the big news at Casa de Big Guy is an impending move across the country to Seattle, a cycling-friendly city if I ever saw one.  I will be posting more about that (especially if I don't have a job right away - MG's job is why we're moving in the first place).

I'm going to be posting a bit for the next little while, but not here. I'll be over at drdebssx.blogspot.com for now.

(Sigh)

The gorilla is still there. @&#*%!!!

I did at least talk to the doc about lowering my beta blocker dosage if he wouldn't let me cut it out entirely. He let me win at least that much, so you know what that means.

The gorilla only weighs 400 pounds now.

That's not a bad trick, for a gorilla to lose half of its weight in such a short period like that. I'm sure there's lots of folks out there who'd love to accomplish it. Not me. I wouldn't mind losing 10% to 15% of my body weight, but any more than that would likely be counter-productive.

He's still heavy, though. Oh, yeah. I found that out on my last two rides. One was a greenway ride west of here with Joshua. There's one spot where the trail has a huge dip in it requireing a bit of climbing to power back out of it. There's another spot worse than that. I made it through the first intact, but I walked the last bit of the second one (but then, so did Joshua). I can usually make it up that hill, but the spots in front of my eyes warned me off of the attempt this time. The other ride was a longer venture with several hills. Hey, I live in East Tennessee, so go find me a decent ride without any.

I have an appointment with a specialist coming up. With any luck the gorilla will lose more weight, if not go away entirely (maybe I can lose him in a crowd somewhere).

Interesting how we use animals in so many figues of speech, isn't it? the '800 pound gorilla', the 'monkey on my back', the fact that 'every dog has its day', and the ever popular 'cat let out of the bag'.

Speaking of which, here's a new word for today. "Haemochromatosis." Big word, isn't it? Meow.

Blocking My Beta(s)

My doctor has slapped an 800 pound gorilla onto my back, and it's especially heavy during climbs.  I discovered how heavy yesterday during a ride.  He ain't heavy; he's my gorilla.

It was a lovely day yesterday.  The forecast had been good for something after all.  I texted and called several ride buddies as early as Tuesday, hoping to get a least a couple of others to go on a ride of the closed (read that "long unfinished") section of the Foothills Parkway between Walland and Wears Valley.  The Foothills Parkway was envisioned as a scenic roadway skirting the north and western edges of the Great Smoky Mountains National Park.  Congress authorized it in 1944.  Construction began in 1960, starting at either end with the intention of meeting in the middle.  What we've ended up with is a well-used 17 mile section from Walland to Chilhowie Lake on the western end, and a less used, though open and viable, 5.6 mile section on the eastern end between Interstate 40 and Cosby.  Both were completed during the 1960s.  Fifty years later, there still isn't commitment to ever complete the entire project.

Still, work has been done in places.  The 15.8 mile section from Walland to Wears Valley was mostly completed except for the 1.6 mile "Missing Link" that includes several bridge in various stages of completion.  The rest of the planned 71 total miles of the Parkway?  Well, we'll see.  After all, the Blue Ridge Parkway and the Natchez Trace were only completed after several decades of work.  Still, the best I think we can hope for now is that it gets completed before the 100-year anniversary of ground-breaking, if it ever gets completed at all.

OK, enough with the history lesson, lets come back the present.  Though (obviously) unmaintained from a roadwork perspective (e.g., badly degraded pavement, etc.), the Walland to Wear's Valley section is well used and loved by hikers, equestrians, and cyclist alike.  We saw all three yesterday morning.  The "we"?  Oh, sorry, I forgot to introduce my ride buddies du jour, John B. and Joshua.  Big call-out to John B., who had a birthday on Friday (and still showed up without a hangover!). 

The ride up this section of Parkway starts out steep, so I'd arranged to start a mile or so off to give us at least a five minute warm-up before the climbing starts, but it didn't help much.  John and I rode away from Joshua (and his mountain bike) pretty quickly, and then John rode away from me.  Soon after that was when the gorilla stared making its presence known.

The gorilla?  Beta-blockers, which is a class of drug used for a number of things, including hypertension.  I don't think my blood pressure is that bad, but the doc wants to see how I do on Propanalol for a month, so ...  

What beta-blockers do, though, is keep your heart rate low.  So I can't get my heart-rate up too high. Literally.  I don't mean that I'm not supposed to, I mean that I cant.  I thought, until yesterday morning, that the limit was higher.  After all, I had been on other rides since being on the drug without any issues.  Not the case yesterday.

There are two "tops" on the piece of road we were on.  As I got close to the first one (at a lovely overlook of the valley and the mountains) I was seeing spots in front of my eyes (maybe gorilla hands?).  Joshua caught me and we rode into the overlook so I could take a break.  I sat down, and stayed down for a while.  Joshua left at one point to go look for where John had gone (after I assured him I'd be fine).  My intention was to just rest until I could continue the climb.  I soon realized that if I when the rest of the way up, I'd be in the same boat again.  Joshua showed up with John B. soon (along with another guy John had met out on the road) and discussed my options. Continuing was pretty much out of the question for me, but I insisted that they go on.  After I convinced John (and pointed out that he'd know where to look for me if he got back and my car was still parked next to his).  Then I got up and rode back down to Walland.

But you know, I felt so good when I got back down there that I decided to keep riding.  I left a note on John's car and took the relatively flat River Road from Walland to Kinsel Springs.  That's a road that is heavily used by cyclists.  You can't swing a cat (or an 800 pound gorilla) on a Saturday without hitting at least two, so I knew that if I did have problems, somebody would be along quickly.

But I had no problems.  The gorilla didn't even move (I think he may have even jumped off at the car thinking I was done).  I rode at a good pace the whole way without even getting close to being out of breath.  I even felt good for the rest of the day without feeling tired at all.

So hear is the new formula for me and beta-blockers.  Climbing for more than 2 minutes = bad. everything else is apparently good.  Still, this is East Tennessee, so climbs abound.

I have an appointment with the Doc this Friday.  I gotta talk him into taking the gorilla back.

Recommended Daily Allowance of Iron(y)

Something I didn't mention in yesterday's post (it was already getting long as it was) is something that happened during the ride between Fountain City Peddler and River Sports.  We were still on Broadway, which is a four lane road with a turn lane down the middle of quite a lot of it.  I was in front of Joshua, Alex, and a couple of other guys who had caught us briefly and riding on the right side of the right lane, right where I was supposed to be.  We were approaching the intersection with Woodland, which has a dedicated right turn lane, so I moved over in order to allow traffic behind us to use that turn lane while we waited for the light to turn green.  One lady in particular did use the turn lane (which as I believe I said we had moved over so as not to block her), and also took the opportunity to yell at us out of her window something that sounded as she passed by like "muffle muffle muffle get on the sidewalks if muffle muffle muffle..."  (I guess people don't always realize that it's hard to hear something shouted from a moving car when you aren't moving next to it at the same speed).

OK, first, I was well within the law by using the road and not the sidewalk.  In fact, even the Knoxville Regional Transportation Planning Organization recommends that bicycles not use sidewalks (top of page 8) except for the very young due to safety concerns.  Second, I would have needed to cross over the right turn lane anyway in order to cross the intersection (since I wasn't turning).  But the third thing I have to mention was the ironic part.  The lady in question had a bumper sticker on her car that said "Coexist."  

Hmm.  I somehow think she wasn't really all that sincere about that, was she?

I want to take some space for a call-out or two.  First is for Steve, who runs my local bike shop.  He was involved in a crash yesterday morning during a group training ride (apparently a chain came off of a bike in front of him and got into his front wheel).  I saw him briefly after he got back from getting checked out at the hospital, so at least I know he's going to be OK.  Second is for Ben, the boyfriend of one of my sisters-in-law in Charleston, SC.  He was hit by a car while riding.  He was roughed up pretty badly, with facial lacerations, broken facial bones and clavicle, and I don't know what else, but he was at least able to get mostly clear after the impact.  The car that hit him kept going, dragging his bike for 4 blocks.  They pulled into a grocery store parking lot, disengaged the bike, and drove off leaving the bike there.  I haven't heard enough about the event yet to know if the witness(es) were able to give a clear description to the police, but I sure hope so.  The worst thing is that Ben doesn't have health insurance right now.  I'm just glad it wasn't any worse than that.

Pokered

It was a lovely day to go for a ride here in Knoxville, and that fit in just fine with Randy C.'s grand plan. You see, Randy is the president of the Appalachain Mountain Bike Club (AMBC), and today was set aside a while back for their first Poker Run around town. The plan was to meet up at noon at the old Bi-Lo supermarket (now closed, but everyone knows where it is, so we still refer to it for meet-ups). Mrs. Guy is sick today and wanted to sleep the afternoon away, so I got a free pass.

I was expecting somewhere between 30 and 40 people to be there when I pulled in. By my rough guess, the number was closer to 100 people or more. Wow. Big turnout. We milled about waiting for Randy and crew to give their pre-ride talk, so I found John B., Joshua, and several others I knew. Finally Randy got up in a truck bed and went over the rules.

To start, we were to ride down the greenway to Volunteer Landing several miles away behind Joel, who would serve as the pace-rider that no-one was to pass. This was pretty smart, because if you release 100 riders to go racing off to one spot in an uncontrolled fashion, carnage will likely ensue, and I'm not partial to carnage at this point in my life. At Volunteer Landing we would receive a 'spoke card' (which nobody actually stuck in their spokes) that we'd have to present at each check point before getting a playing card. The checkpoints? All of them were local bike shops. Seven in all (I know of two that chose not to participate). No preset order, no prize for finishing first. Just ride to as many as you can because you'd get an extra card for going to all seven. At the end we would see what the best five card poker hand we could make would be to determine the placings.

I took off near the middle of the group of folks headed out. I ended up nowhere near anyone I knew personally, but at an event like this if you know twenty out of a hundred, that just means you have eighty freinds out there you just haven't met yet. Actually, Abby and Derek did catch up to me close to our arrival at Volunteer Landing. To our surprise, they also gave us a playing card at to go along with our spoke cards. There were other surprises later on.

I got a 10 of Spades. Josh showed up soon after and got an Ace. . John came in soon after. We talked about routing from there, with Josh and I deciding to head to Tennessee Valley Bikes (TVB), and John deciding to head on out to Fountain City Peddler (FCP) after a bathroom break. Josh and I left, headed through downtown, and got seperated when he took a turn with a larger group after I'd gone straight at one intersection. As cosmic validation, I did get to TVB first, so my route plan proved correct.

At TVB we were surprised to find we'd have to do a stunt to earn our card. The stunt was to ride a (very) tiny bike down the sidewalk to a manhole and back. It looked really funny, but wasn't all that easy. Plus, they only had one tiny bike, so it took a while to wait through the line (I think a large percentage of riders went there first). I got my card while waiting for Josh (I got a 9 of Diamonds) and talked to Eric O. (who offered a beer, but I turned it down). I forgot what Josh got, but it was a face card.

We left TVB and headed out Broadway toward FCP. I'd never been there, so I was happy that we hooked up with a group containing someone who had. Still, after riding a little over 3 miles out there, Alex (a young guy I only met today) and I rode right past it (it's very hard to see - I was even looking for it). Josh called us back, and happily they didn't make us do any weird stuff to get a card, which for me was a 2 of diamonds. Josh got another face card. .

Josh, Alex and I ended up together on the return down Broadway back into town. Alex asked if we minded if he rode with us (of course not!), and I got the impression he didn't know his way around the hinterlands of Knoxville. That was when he and Josh put their safety in my hands and let me lead the way to River Sports Outfitters (RSO). I knew a shortcut. I didn't tell them it went through a particularly rough-looking part of town, but I've ridden there alone before without problems, so I knew three of us would be fine. A little over six miles later we pulled up safely at RSO.

The stunt here looked interesting, but I had to beg for a medical exemption. Given my problems with fractured and patched up collarbones, I didn't think my doctor (or wife) would approve of my taking a turn on a climbing wall. I showed the volunteer there my scar and hardware, promised to stay with Josh the whole time and not skip out early, and generally be a good boy, so she went ahead and gave me a card (Ace of Hearts). The line was long again, but at least they had three climbing sections open. I watched several people tackle the wall. Angie did well. Tanya did great. Others I knew, not so great. When it was Josh's turn I jokingly told him I was giving him 30 seconds and no more. I needn't have bothered. To my surprise he practically flew up the wall. It took him longer to get the harness unkooked than it did to climb. Wow. He's been holding out on the skillz, I think. He got another face card. Hmm.

We'd lost Alex in the crowd, so we headed on to Bike Zoo. The stunt there was to sing the "I'm a little tea-pot" song out on the front sidewalk. I jumped right in first off. It's not really embarrassing when everybody else around you has to do it too. My card was the Jack of Diamonds.

We left there and headed over to Harper's Bike Shop, where the stunts were more heinous. They had five set up, of which we had to do two. Forget the two involving jumping on a BMX bike. I did the log pull (a railroad tie attached by chain to the back of a bike they had) and the 'dizzy' course on my own bike. The log pull was a lot tougher. I got the 4 of Diamonds. Hmm. Maybe I had a chance after all?

Josh and I left and took a southerly route to Cedar Bluff Cycles (CBC) over Nubbin Ridge road. I wanted to stay on Westland (shorter, flatter), but Josh insisted there'd be less traffic on Nubbin Ridge. Well, that may have been true, but as I sit here now hours later my knee still says it was a bad idea due to the more-intense-than-I'm-ready-for climbs. After eight or so miles, we finally caught up with Alex at CBC.

The stunt at CBC was to ride a kid's bike (not as small as the one at TVB) all the way around the strip mall building (a LOT farther than at TVB). My knees already hurt. This was adding insult to injury. My knees were hitting the handlebars, so I had to ride with them both sticking way out to the side. Not comfortable. But my card? Queen of Diamonds, and that spells Flush, baby. There was one more bike shop on the list, but it was way further out in the wrong direction, and I didn't really see how even getting two more cards (one at the shop and one for hitting all seven) would help my hand enough to be worth adding an extra 10 miles (if we were stupid and rode straight down Kingston Pike - more like 16 or 17 to do it safely) to our ride. This was already going to be my long ride for the year, I thought. Josh agreed, so with Alex back with us we headed for the greenway entrance over by Lowe's Home Center.

Again Josh got seperated, but he won this time when Alex and I Got caught up at a traffic light. We hit the greenway and headed back toward the Bi-Lo. I was happy to find that the section of greenway behind the Wal-Mart/Sams Club had been finished so I wouldn't have to ride through their parking lot on a Saturday afternoon. We took the greenway all the way to where it ends, which is where we saw John, Dianne, Cathy, and some other guy headed the other way toward CBC (they had no plan to go further west than that either.) John was nice enough to tell us the quickest way back to Bi-Lo from there.

As we finally approached the Bi-Lo, Alex said he still needed to go to Bike Zoo (which explains how he'd gotten ahead of us to CBC). Bike Zoo is really close to Bi-Lo, though, so I knew he'd be back soon. Josh and I rode in to discover that there wasn't really any activity going on other than sitting around at El Mezcal, a Mexican restaurant which is in the same strip building where Bi-Lo was. Josh got a beer. I got a Diet Coke. Then we went out and sat around meeting several of the friends we didn't know yet. This was about 4:30. Fifteen minutes later I ordered a burrito and rice since I was famished (not surprising since I'd had no lunch before riding a total of 39 miles).

They finally got around to determining prizes at about 5:15, by which time I was shivering since the temp was dropping, the wind was picking up, and the clouds had moved in front of the Sun. I felt good about my flush, though, since I knew places went about ten deep. Little did I know.

Apparently there was a lot of horse-trading going on out there. I'd seen a few people trading cards around at CBC, but didn't think much of it since even their hand improvements were not better than my flush. However, when about 9 people held up their hands with a 4-of-a-kind, I knew there was something more widespread going on. Since there had already been a straight flush (Hmmm), I knew my flush was useless. At one point I figured I could give my 4 of Diamonds to John to give him a fourth 4 (and tenth place), but he declined. Good for him.

All in all, a great day for a great ride. I think a lot of people were headed over to Union Jack's bar afterward, but I didn't have a change of clothes and figured I really needed to get out of my cycling gear and into a shower. After twenty minutes under the spray of hot water in my shower back home, I knew I'd been right.

Struck in the Moonlight

One of my very first blog posts (way back in the old MicroSoft blog days) was about a full-moon ride I went on with some friends that went up and over Rich Mountain Road into Cades Cove (in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park, in case you didn't know).  On Tuesday night we did something similar, but with a little bit of modification.  Instead on entering Cades Cove via Rich Mountain Road, we rode in on the main access road and then went over Rich Mountain Road to go back out.  That ends up making it a 28 to 29 mile loop (that can be extended if desired).

Wednesday was a work day for me (meaning I had to be up before 5 am), but the ride was scheduled to start at 7 pm (while it was still daylight), so I figured I might actually get home between 10 and 10:30 pm.  I discuss what time I actually got home a little later.

I amazed almost everyone by actually showing up a little early for the ride.  That even amazed me, really.  I don't get off of work until 5 pm, which usually means I get to my car at about 10 or 15 after 5 pm.  Then it's a 30 to 40 minute drive home, I have to walk and feed the dogs, give the cat her medication and put down food and water for her, change into cycling gear, gather my stuff, and then drive 45 minutes or more (depending on traffic) to Townsend where the ride starts.  I must have somehow bent the laws of time and space (without bending the laws of traffic), because I got to Townsend at 6:55 pm.  Prepping my stuff the night before helped a lot.

The one usually getting on my back for being late is Wally.  Who do you think was late by 5 minutes?  Wally.  Think I got some payback in?

Nine cyclists hit the road at 7:15 pm or so and rode through Townsend on the greenway next to Hwy 73 toward the Park.  After the greenway ends Hwy 73 comes to a tee where it goes off to the left toward Gatlinburg and Cades Cove Road goes right.  Turning right, we got into the gradual climb that takes you most of the way to Cades Cove (there's a short downhill section just before you get to Cades Cove).

I was not in the front on the climb.

Nor was I in the back.

Actually, I was able to mostly stay with Jen, as we would pass each other back and forth as the grade would gradually change.  We did that all the way up to the top of the climb where the group waited to get back together.  Joshua was last up the hill, which wasn't surprising since he was climbing on a mountain bike with mountain bike tires (at 45 psi) and no way to lock out the rear suspension.  The cyclists among you will realize that makes for a more difficult climb.

Now, up until this point I had no need for my new, not-cheap, helmet-mounted lighting system, though the daylight had been slowly fading as we climbed up the road.  I had turned on my rear flasher light long before (as we left the greenway and got on the tarmac), but I had just enough daylight to get me to the meet-point.  Barely.  It got dark awfully fast after I stopped.  Then, a few minutes later while we waiting for Josh, the moon started to come out.

I realize that folks love a good sunrise.  I know that folks love a good sunset.  But sometimes there is nothing like a moonrise on a lovely dark night up in the mountains far away from city lights.  Gary got some pictures, though I haven't seen any of them yet, but it was wonderful.  I would guess this was sometime in the 8 to 8:30 pm range.

One problem with doing a ride like this on a weeknight is that the ride has to start early in the evening and the moon never really gets very far overhead.  I've been on rides around Cades Cove when I almost never had to have a light on at all except in the midst of thick tree cover.  This wasn't the case the other night.

We left the pull-out where we'd stopped, climbed up the road for a few hundred yards, and then started the descent into Cades Cove.  It took me a few minutes to  figure out how to turn my light on correctly (this was the first time I'd used it), but I did get it on and I was very happy with how bright it was, even at the setting two down from the brightest.  We crossed the parking area, rode around the bar gate stopping traffic from entering Cades Cove at night (except for cyclists and hikers, of course), and proceeded along the loop road until we got to the old Missionary Baptist Church, which is where the turn-off to Rich Mountain Road departs to the right.

We stood there and talked for a while, allowing all who needed it to find a proper spot for a nature break, when I looked at my watch and announced that I didn't care if everyone else decided to continue around the loop further and then back and over Rich Mountain Road, but I was going straight out.  Joshua decided to head out as well, but everyone else went on around the loop.

Rich Mountain Road starts off with a consistent climb out of Cades Cove that stretches on for a while. I would guess that it is a 3 1/2 mile climb to the top of the ridge, and it is on gravel road.

Let's talk bike selection for a moment.  Normally I would ride a mountain bike on Rich Mountain Road just because the tires are so much better for traction.  I would also lock out my rear suspension (which Joshua couldn't do) to save energy - you waste a lot climbing and the bike always feels "mushy".  However, we did a lot of riding on pavement.  Most of it, actually.  On pavement I would want my road bike which has no suspension (it doesn't need it) and tires that run at higher pressure for greater efficiency.  So, what to ride?  Well, there is a middle ground.  Most of us were on cyclocross bikes, which typically have sturdier frames and slightly wider tires than a road bike.  I rode my 'Three Week Bike'.  I still had one issue, though.  I was running my tires at fairly high pressure.  I figured I would want that for the climbing and road riding and that I could deal with it for the gravel (which is typically hard-packed) road.

Climbing up was not fun.  The road surface was not as solid as I'd remembered, though I had only ridden it on mountain bike tires at lower pressures, so maybe it had been like that all along.  Still, I slogged along as best I could and maintained a minimum ridable pace (so I didn't ride off too far from Joshua and abandon him).  About half-way up the climb is when it happened.  I got hit in the face by a bat.  No, not a baseball bat.

Ironically, we'd all been talking about usual wildlife sightings earlier, but until then I hadn't seen any.  I couldn't miss this one really.  It was up close and personal.  I heard the "thwack" on the front of my helmet and suddenly there was this soft floppy thing covering up a goodly portion of my face. Before I really had a chance to react, it fell away and then flapped off into the night air.  My question is; what's this echo-location thing I keep hearing about and does it actually ever work?  Honestly, I would bet that it was as surprised as I was when it hit me.  I think I understand the old "Blind as a ..." thing now.

I waited for Joshua at one point on the climb, and then waited again at the top.  He wasn't the one I saw at the top, though.  Gary and Philippe came riding up after having cruised around the loop a-ways.  They hadn't had any bats to the face, though.  I asked if they cared if I took off and left Joshua to them, and then headed down the descent back toward the car and the rest of bat-free civilization (relatively speaking).  But I was having a couple of problems.

First, and most importantly, my headlight was starting to flash red intermittently.  This is a design feature intended to let me know that it's not going to be long before the battery gives out.  I found this surprising, since I hadn't been using it at full power and I thought I was supposed to have a longer charge capacity.  I was informed later that the battery needs to cycled (charged/discharged) a few times before it gained full capacity.  Wish I'd know before.  The other problem I had was the lack of front suspension on the descent.  The road is a bit rough.  I had the headlight turned low to conserve power.  I didn't see quite all of the larger bumps and ruts.  Basically, I was getting beaten up.  I started riding with the brakes on full time, but I was getting more concerned about overheating my tires/rims and about my already fading battery reserve.

Happily, Jay and Jen caught up with me about half-way down the mountain.  I was able to shut my light off for a while and see by Jay's, which made me feel a lot better.  That lasted maybe five minutes until we got to the park boundary and they decided to wait a while for more of the group.  I didn't have the time to wait, so I flicked my light back on and headed down the road, which was at least paved the rest of the way.

But paved doesn't mean smooth.  I swear it was almost as rough as the gravel road I'd just left.

Jay and Jen didn't wait long at the boundary, either to catch me or because they could see more people coming down the gravel.  Jay caught me for a while, but fell back at the last few miles and I finished on my own.  Those two were less than a minute back, though, and got to the cars just as I was opening my rear hatch.  I expected the rest to come swinging in at any moment, but I didn't see anyone else before I left.  This was at 10:25 pm.  And I had a 45+ minute drive home to make.  Think I got home between 10 and 10:30 pm?

I got about half-way home before my phone rang.  It was Wally, asking if I had Joshua's phone number.  I told him I did, but it was programmed into my phone and I couldn't really get it.  So instead he had me call Joshua and tell him to turn around and go back to the Huddle House.  Apparently they had discussed going to the Waffle House, but made a change in plans on the fly, but Joshua had missed seeing it happen.  He missed my call, too, so I left him a message to let him know that he was going to be awfully lonely when he got to the Waffle House and noticed he had a message.

So I finally got home at 11:20 pm or so after stopping for a quick snack at a mini-mart along the way home.  I think I was in bed by midnight.  Was I dragging the next day?  Guess.

3 Weeks

I lied.  It's been four weeks.

Sorry.

Three Weeks

OK, it seems that last time I might have mentioned that I got a new bicycle in 2008. That was a true and factual statement. I really like the bike, but some of the joy of a new bike was ... well ... hmm. How to explain.

To say that the whole buying experience was a disappointment would be a gross understatement. With that preface, I now present the story of what I call my 'three week bike', a true tale of consumer woe.

I have long wanted a travel bike. That is to say, I wanted a bike that I could easily break down and pack into a reasonably-sized case and take on an airplane to some far-off destination that might promise some pleasant riding. Now, I didn't really want to increase the size of the stable here at Casa de Big Guy, so I had to choose which bike to replace. My cyclocross bike didn't see a whole lot of use outside of 'cross season (and not much then, truth be told), so I ultimately decided that I could replace it with a bike that could serve a touring purpose yet still be called upon in a rare 'cross emergency (yeah, I can't really think of one either, but that isn't the point). So the LeMond Poprad would go to make room for the new bike.

The big decision then was what to get as that new bike. I thought about an Independent Fabrication or a Seven (steel frame), but the price tag on either was a bit high (and this was before the major financial meltdown). I eventually settled on a bike that had a good reputation among several people I know, and that was a ... hmm. Maybe I'd prefer not to say exactly what bike I went with for various reasons. Maybe I'll leave a hint or two as I go along.

So, around about July 21st (remember that date, it's important later), Steve down at my friendly LBS place an order for my new bike that comes apart like a field in that old movie about a stone cutter's son who wanted to race against the Italians .. or something. Was that a hint? I can't tell.

After Steve called in the order he called me to let me know that since they were changing over frame colors, there would be a three week delay. OK, I guess I can wait that long. I'd like it sooner, but OK.

Three weeks passed.

I called Steve to ask if he'd heard anything (this was actually about a month after the order was placed). He called them and called me back. There was some unspecified problem with the paint on the frames. It was going to be another three weeks.

Three weeks passed.

I called Steve. He called the company that reminds me of that Cunningham kid on Happy Days. (Another hint? I dunno.) More problems with the factory in ... I forget .. somewhere in Asia. It would be another three weeks.

Three weeks passed.

I called Steve. I discussed with him some of the names I was thinking of calling those guys (the names got worse as time went on). He called them. Some issue or another. Another three weeks.
By this time I was thinking I'd made a real mistake not sucking it up and buying the Independent, but by then it was October and the financial turmoil was in full boil.

Three weeks passed.

November came and my cycling really took a back seat once it started getting cold and dark before I got home from work. Still, hope (no matter how foolish) springs eternal. I called Steve. Steve called them. Steve called me back. Yet another inexplicable excuse. Yet another _____ weeks (I thought it might be fun to let you, the reader, fill in the blank).

Around Thanksgiving they said things were really happening with the bike/paint/asian factory/whatever. But not for another two (TWO!!!) weeks.

So of course it took three more weeks before my new bike finally arrived at my LBS during the week of December 8th. I had most of the components switched over from the Lemond and went on vacation ... without my bike. I didn't think Jamaica was the best spot for a maiden voyage, and besides, the bike build-up wasn't quite ready before we left anyway. So my first real ride (other than around the parking lot or up and down my street) came on Christmas Day when I joined John B. and several others for the traditional downtown parking garage races. My second ride was on New Year's Day in the same parking garages.

Now, you might think (I certainly did) that a company who promises a bike in three weeks and actually delivers it in about five months - for WHATEVER reason - might want to do something for the customer who stuck with their order. I'm not talking about a free fork or anything (though this company makes them). I'm not even expecting a free logo jersey or anything. But maybe a card with a "Sorry it took so long" or a "Thanks for waiting, we appreciate your business" or SOMETHING. Nope. Just a bill for the bike.

So now, everytime I look at my new bike, instead of getting excited about going for a ride, I think about just how long three weeks can sometimes turn out to be and how exceedingly poor the vendor's customer service is, at least in my experience. The 'new bike' thrill was gone before I even got it. Think I'll ever buy anything of theirs again? Nope. Think I'll ever recommend anything of theirs? Nope. Think I'll tell this tale in greater detail than this if anyone ever asks me about their products? Oh, yeah. And I will be entirely honest - brutally honest in fact.

Oh, and if you're wondering when I'll post again, three weeks.