Since I had to miss Chilly Hilly, Flying Wheels and STP due to surgery recovery and only got to ride the last few miles of RAPSody, I was not about to miss an opportunity to spend some quality bike time with my
biker scum crazy cylcist friends.
The Kitsap Color Classic was last Sunday, so I rushed around like mad that morning (after a 12 hour work day the day before) and got out the door 15 minutes later than I had planned, and crossed the Narrows Bridge into the hilly wilds of the Kitsap Peninsula.
My cycling buddy Bill who I haven’t seen in longer than I can remember also decided to join us and rode over on the Ferry from Edmonds where he spent the previous night.
This ride has two starts; one at the Edmonds Ferry dock and another in Kingston at the other end of the run. About 2/3 of our little group were coming over from the Seattle side, so we arranged a meeting place at a little crepe shop just up from the ferry dock on the Kingston side.
In addition to leaving the house way too late, I realized almost immediately upon crossing the bridge I hadn’t been paying attention to my fuel tank. With the red “check gauge” light glaring at me, daring me (“Do you feel lucky? DO YOU?) to go just one more exit for a better price/easier access, I finally pulled over in Silverdale.
Looking at the clock I realized I was going to be seriously late after having to stop for gas.
When I got back on the highway, I realized that I had absolutely no idea where the Kingston Ferry Terminal is, more or less the registration area/food stop which was two miles up the road.
I managed to take the correct exit and catch the left turn that took me towards Kingston/Port Gamble and away from the wrong ferry (seriously, this place is lousy with them)
Once I got close to Kingston, I could tell that the ferry had just unloaded as there was a stream of cyclists descending on the unwary inhabitants of this normally quiet area.
I noticed one particular rider, a hairy legged guy wearing a festive autumn inspired tutu… I knew Kevin had made it on the ferry. (he looks pretty manly in this thing if you ask me)
I found the crepe place easily, parked and walked across the street to see my friends gleefully stuffing their faces.
I hadn’t seen Julie in far too long and we stood in the middle of the street in a long embrace. Mind you, this embrace was quite interesting to behold as we were both wearing bike gear and brightly colored, sparkling tutus… I can hear the locals now, “Earl, just look at that shameful display… Those must be some of those heathen naked cyclists that hang out in Fremont.”
Since I was so late, I didn’t want to delay the group by ordering, so no crepes for me this trip. I got back in my truck and headed up to packet pickup. Due to barriers down near the ferry dock, I had to take a back road, got turned around and realized that I was hopelessly lost in Kitsap (as long as I didn’t hear banjos, I’d be OK)
I finally found my way to the registration tent and arrived about the time Bill did. He hadn’t seen me since I lost all the weight from the medical surgery stuff, so he looked at me and said, “You don’t have any boobs”.
“I never had boobs Bill, now I’m just skinny again and don’t have boobs.” What a gentleman eh?
Seriously… Who’s “the boob”? 😉
Of course, Leo made an equally appalling social faux paux and actually lifted my tutu… (I guess that’s the male version of a woman lifting a man’s kilt?)
What a scoundrel eh?
After the obligatory shenanigans at the start line, we (Leo, Julie, Bill, Eric, Paula, Ann, Mike, Lynn, John and myself) headed out on the Hainsville Loop. We were actually shooting for the longer and less painfully hilly Port Gamble loop but were so busy talking and laughing we missed the Dan Henry for that turnoff (this ride has three loops of varying degrees of quad destroying hills and mileages allowing you to customize your ride with any combination of loops).
The first couple of miles was a hill (there is no flat ground out there, it’s even worse than Tacoma in the hill department)
After some ups, downs, twists and turns, we made the descent into Hainsville… (and yes, the climb back up and out was a bitch)
We found a lovely little scenic view spot and pulled over (well, all except for bill who never slowed down at the base of the screaming hill and never knew we pulled over)
Mt Baker is in the background here somewhere, I suspect that Leo’s butt is blocking it. We look like we’re on a day pass from the asylum don’t we?
This particular shot has been described as “the worst super hero team photo ever” (Leo has been dubbed “Sani Can Man”)
Lynn didn’t have a tutu, but she was quite festive in her Irn Bru jersey (she’s from Scotland)
We started the long and ugly climb out of Hainsville after Leo finally yelled at us enough to quit with all the flitting around, socializing and picture taking. This is where I taught Ann the “bike butt dance” which is even better with a tutu to shake; she will have one on the next ride.
There were many more wonderful, scenic back roads and lots of laughter. The weather was absolutely perfect and we were talking about how days like this will be the memories we talk about later in life (you know… when Julie and I are crazy cat ladies knitting… Oh wait…)
Then the hills started back up in earnest.
Leo backtracked and yelled at us (as if he hadn’t been yelling at us to quit yacking, get in our big rings and ride like we meant it-I don’t think he knows what to do with himself when he’s not a ride ref) SHIFT DOWN INTO YOUR LOWEST GEAR!!! DO IT NOW!!!
I don’t see him get like that often, so I did it.
The hill did come up suddenly on a blind corner and is probably the equivalent of McCurthchen Hill on the Tour De Pierce and Daffodil Classic rides, but it was nowhere near the 22% grade we had been hearing about, nor the stair step half mile long 12-14% grade that has also been described.
I gave him “the look”. He said, “That was it.” I knew it wasn’t and told him (and everyone else so) and of course, I stayed on the small ring.
Another couple of miles down the road was another sharp turn away from the water, and there it was… The monster, 22% of evil, chain dropping, quad burning, vomit inducing hill from hell. I dropped down through the rest of my gears and dodged those who were wobbling , stopping and walking.
No way in hell was I giving Leo (who was now smirking like a lunatic) the satisfaction of “walking the dog” aka “the walk of shame”. I made it up that hill on pedal power (which can’t be said for a large number of people) just to spite him.
Leo and I have ridden together for years as Cascade volunteers (he as a ride ref, myself as a medical support rider and as a ride ref) on all the big rides, we’ve faced a lot of inclement conditions, interesting things, danger, injuries and bonks together and always have each others’ backs. We can say pretty much whatever we want to each other (harassing each other for over 100 miles at a time is “our thing”) but if someone else crosses the line with one of us, they have hell to pay from the other.
Why do I tell you this? Because after all of these years, and hundreds (no, at this point it’s into the thousands) of miles we’ve ridden together, this was the day that I finally dropped the F-bomb on him.
We re-grouped at the top of the hill and gave everyone a chance to catch up, catch their breath and drink water.
This hill may not look that bad on first glance, until you look again and realize that we were down by the water when we started the climb.
Once back at the food tent, some folks went back out to ride part of the Port Gamble loop and Bill, Lynn and I opted for food and beverage overlooking the water. As undertrained as I was this year, I wanted to finish the ride on a positive note, feeling good.
We ate at “The Filling Station”. Lynn and I had what can only be described as “food porn”. Roasted garlic and goat cheese with toasted baguette.
It was a lovely afternoon to sit on the deck (and it’s amazing how tiny the Space Needle is from there)
It was the perfect day, with the perfect (albeit batshit crazy) fiends….
The End 😉
I spent the last weekend biking it 204 miles from Seattle WA to Portland OR with 10,000+ of my best friends riding the STP (Seattle to Portland Bicycle Classic)
I brought along Roady the duck who I found in a ditch on the Flying Wheels Century last month. I decided to bring a duck call and Leo made one out of a squeaky toy that sounded more like duck farts than a duck call.
I already posted my ride ref report to the Cascade Bicycle Club message board, BikeTawk and the Ride Ref list, so this will be my personal report…
I’ll start out with the “short report” and then ramble 😉
Was grossly under trained and had no business doing this ride…
Did it anyway because I missed last year due to broken foot/big toe and I was committed to be a ride referee…
The weather was perfect! A far cry from any of my previous STP experiences.
Humor goes a long way in gaining cooperation from riders as a ride ref…
Duck calls make people laugh…
As my friend Kevin said, this year should have been known as the Tour De Crash”…
Left sleeping bag at home, got very lucky and scored a real bed in Centrailia…
Mile 174 is my nemesis… this is where my mind and body break down…
Stopping to render mechanical/medical/traffic assistance, restarting and pedaling like heck to make up time over and over and over is way harder than just riding it…
Really enjoyed no escorted mob ride over the Lewis and Clark Bridge into Oregon; much more relaxing to make the descent in the bike lane not surrounded by riders of questionable judgment/experience…
Loved the new route over the St John’s Bridge in Portland…
Did manage food/beer at finish before boarding bus (big improvement over last time)…
Lost the bike truck lotto despite the rush to get bike on the most fully loaded truck, had to drive back to Seattle on Monday to get my bike…
Recovery takes longer when you’re not trained for distance…
Things I did well
Ate real food and ate it often (seriously why eat stuff I don’t like and don’t normally eat when pushing myself?)…
Rested and loaded up on nutritionally dense/high protein food before the event…
Although I tried to avoid “energy/race” food, I did have a couple packs of honey stinger chews (tastier/easier to get down than Cliff Shots) for dire moments when I really needed some quick carbs…
Drank bottled or filtered water, not nasty tasting hose water provide at rest stops (seriously, pay the $1 for a bottle of water that doesn’t smell funny); makes it easier to get down in the later stages, alternated with NUUN for electrolytes (never Gatorade or the like)…
Rode/Paced to my comfort level not against a speedometer/clock/ride partner…
Sunscreen application well timed; no burn at all…
Things I need to improve on
Did I mention I was grossly under trained? Longest ride in the last two years, 65 miles. Longest ride this year, 1 30-miler, a couple of 20-something milers-next year, do the mileage it will hurt less in the long run…
Waiting until the night before to pack/gear up lead to panic, sleep deprivation and forgetting my sleeping bag-next year, suck it up and do it early (maybe take that Friday off)…
Did not sleep enough before or during the event; I need more sleep to stay healthy…
Waited way too long (50 miles) for first application of chamois butter-next year apply at first rest stop… (why no Leo, your groin is not supposed to burn when you put it on…)
Tape my wrists if/when they start to hurt (of course, proper training might prevent that)…
Add extra meal between Riverside stop in Longview WA and St Helen’s OR to prevent physical and mental breakdown at mile 174…
Drink even more water, alternating with NUUN of course…
Take more pictures…
Save the money to get a motel room in Portland for Sunday night; it’s no fun to have to rush for the long bus slog back to Seattle; I want to enjoy the finish line festival/beer garden with my friends after the ride…
The long, boring, gritty details
I was up bright and early (4:30 AM) to pick Lynn up in Renton, stop at Starbucks and head to the start line.
I got a fruit and cheese plate to eat while waiting in line to get into the UW parking lot, but didn’t have to wait, so I stuffed it in my jersey pocket and off we went (after fussing with gear, ride ref supply pickup and a lot wait for the portapotties)
We stopped briefly at Seward Park so I could make a phone call, because along Lake Washington I realized I’d not packed my sleeping bag which was going to make for a very cold night of camping. Normally, I’d bypass that stop as it wastes more time than anything else.
Leo started a bit later and caught up to us after the hill climb out of Seward.
The REI rest stop is always lots of fun and we always stay too long. This is where I “should” have applied my first does of chamois butt’r and where I did eat my breakfast (which should have been a 2nd breakfast)
There were many ride ref duties attended to between Kent and Sumner; everything from flat tires, to falls to multi bike accidents.
We stopped at McDonald’s for “first lunch” I don’t normally eat there, but a burger and fries helped power us up the hill. I’m pretty surprised that Leo didn’t hurl his milkshake on the side of the road.
At the Spanaway stop, I snarfed down a chicken wrap and a jamba juice (2nd lunch) This is also where we discovered that the 50 mile mark is too long to wait for the first application of chamois butt’r. Leo came out from behind his hidey place and said, “Is this supposed to burn your groin when you put it on?” Uh… “No Leo, and I didn’t need to know that.” Yeah, my nether regions weren’t happy either…
Next was negotiating the always dicey Highway 507; lots of accidents, thankfully, none involving us, despite the idiot woman between Roy and McKenna that jumped out into traffic in front of a big red truck then screamed and almost took me out. Had I not been in a Ride Ref uniform, I’d have said more to her than, “You need to look before you pull out in traffic, and you need to call out when passing” after she said, “I’m going to get killed out here”.
It took every ounce of self control I had not to react when she got snotty with me. Hey, cool! Break the law, endanger yourself and others, and then cop an attitude on the person you almost knocked down an embankment. No Bueno!
I was still twitching by the time we got to the McKenna rest stop where we refilled our water bottles. We rode another couple blocks and got ice cream.
The Yelm-Tenino Trail was a relief as it got us off the carnage filled highway. Since they got rid of some of the worst roots (there are still a couple doozies) and pulled those darn posts out; it’s a lot safer than it used to be.
This is where I finally had some room to safely get down on my aerobars and kick it up a notch. It felt good to get into a different position..
After a break in Tenino, we rode those last long miles into Centralia. Last time we rode this, I bonked here, this time it was Leo. He responded well to my honey stinger chews (which saved me the next day) and we made decent time through the rollers and into town.
This is also where I picked up the “stealth drafter”.
Seriously dude, if you’re going to ride that close to me, you should buy me a drink or at least introduce yourself. Better yet, say “On your wheel” so I know not to stop or swerve suddenly and have you take us both out. Even better… offer to take a pull rather than having me pull you all those miles without reciprocating. I tried to shake this guy by slowing down, speeding up and glaring at him, but he was not getting off my tail. I guess the ride ref jerseys say “Take a free pull” on the back. I could smell beer garden so I wasn’t going to pull over.
Leo, Lynn and I agreed to proceed straight to be beer garden when we pulled into Centralia and we did, even bypassing the creamsciles. We ran into Kimiko, Harry, Damian, Mongo, Brian, my friend Dan from Seattle who just felt like stalking me that day and a host of other biker types where we enjoyed music, sunshine, pizza (first dinner) and free flowing beer. This was very welcome after 100 miles of stopping, riding hard to make up time, stopping, over and over and over again…
Running out of beer has been an issue in the past, but not this year. There was plenty of pizza and beer. The beers started magically appearing without us even getting in line. It was most definitely the royal treatment. We liked it.
On the way in, Rocky (the house with the mister set up out front) recognized (seriously, I can be picked out of a crowd of well over 10,000?) and yelled at me. I went over to ask if I could pay him and Patsy to use their shower as I wasn’t interested in a cold trailer shower. As it turns out, they hadn’t advertised any rooms because it had been a crazy year of traveling etc… so they invited Leo and I to stay in their spare rooms. Real shower, fabulous dinner of elk lasagna, organic salad from the garden and garlic bread with friends I hadn’t seen in two years, and a real bed. This was made of awesome. (Lynn’s husband had brought blankets for me so I was covered either way)
The next morning I shoveled down a bowel of cereal (1st breakfast) and headed out to Chehalis for the Soroptomists breakfast in the park, while Leo pedaled off to figure out where his stuff was. I had a lovely 2nd breakfast of eggs, sausage, pancakes and orange juice and headed out a bit of ahead of Leo to get up that darn hill to Napavine and because I was freezing.
I encountered a guy with a bent rim and another with a broken crank on the way up, but they had folks coming for them.
We regrouped in Winlock and headed off to Vader for an espresso break. (espresso line in Winlock was too long, Soroptomists breakfast served [gasp] Folders with powdered creamer)
It was pretty funny to watch the (very nice) folks who run the store trying to help us through the lines more quickly by offering a 2nd line for just plain coffee and or ringing up store items. Nope, we were all staying in the espresso line.
After the guy made several offers, I piped up with, “They did tell you we all rode from Seattle right? We are latte sucking stereotypes ;)”
We had some fun at Castle Rock. I was in the portapotty and Leo walked up and blew his little squeaky toy duck fart call. I responded with my real duck call form inside the porta potty. Dead silence from the crowds outside, then peals of laughter.
The ride to Riverside was non-eventful. I had a turkey sandwich, some fig newtons and fruit for (1st) lunch and then walked over to the taco stand for a couple of asada tacos… (2nd lunch) then we headed off for the dreaded mob ride across the Lewis and Clark Bridge into Oregon. I picked up another stealth drafter who was just someone who did not know better than to get too close and who crossed skewers with me, so I pulled over to let her go past.
But back to the bridge, they queue us up, then stop traffic and the fabulous Goldwing folks escort us over. This always makes me nervous as it’s a huge mob of people who are not used to riding in crowds and poorly secured water bottles and pumps fly off bikes on the downhill side when tires hit the expansion joints.
For some reason, we got lucky and they just waved a few of us over the bridge and we got to safely ride single file in the bike lane rather than wait for the road closure. MUCH BETTER. I also didn’t have to listen to Leo’s annual “We’re all gonna die” speech about how dangerous the mob bridge crossing is.
Highway 30 was highway 30 many many miles of long rolling hills, fast highway traffic, and unsafe passing. One set of women were riding two abreast taking up the entire very narrow bike lane on the most dangerous stretch causing riders who wanted to pass to hit a dangerous edge and go out into the single lane highway traffic. We asked them to please ride single file; they gave us a snotty look but complied (no duck call for you).
I always hit my mental and physical wall about mile 174 coming into Deer Island/St Helens Oregon and this year was no exception; it was even worse than normal because of not doing the distance, my wrists really hurt and my right knee was acting up.
We stopped at Burgerville in St Helens for chocolate milkshakes (fast calories and sugar that will stay down) and then began the last 30 mile slog up the rolling hills into Portland. My wrists were hurting, my butt was hurting and my knee was hurting. Leo could tell that I was in a bad way because I was super quiet; he made mention that he could tell I was in my own “personal hell” and let me just deal with it while being there for me. (I tease him a lot (well he is kind of a pain in the butt), but he is a good friend and a good ride partner)
He pulled up next to me (on the part of bike lane which was as wide as a lane and next two where the highway was two lanes) to tell me about something, when one of the gals we had talked to before rode past me and snarked about how we told her not to do that (uh yeah, on the dangerous part of the road where you were causing a problem…) I decided to just wish her a nice day. (once again, displaying remarkable restraint considering that at this point I was in what Penguins (my running group) like to call “the bite me zone”)
Just before the St John’s Bridge, I noticed yet another stealth drafter. I was about done with people I don’t know/trust riding inches off my back wheel, so I just pulled over. He pulled over with me; I took a drink of water, gave him “the look” and rode off without him on my tail.
Seriously 20-something dude…. you really need to be pulled by an out of shape woman who is nearly 50 years old?
The windy hill to get up to the St John’s bridge (a change from recent years’ routes into Portland) looked worse than it was, and in my opinion was a fabulous way into town with a stunning view of Mt Hood and the Columbia River (way better than the slog through the industrial zone). Of course the red lights when we got downtown were a pain, but I still think it was better…
By this time, my knee and wrists still hurt, but I could no longer feel my butt.
I was quite happy to cross the finish line. Kevin as there to greet us and take our photo (the duck too) I rushed to get my bike on the fullest truck (the full truck leaves first) so that it would be in Seattle when I got there, grabbed a Gyro and headed to the beer garden.
I got to visit with friends long enough to snarf down the food and one beer before it was time to get my luggage and get on the last bus. (next year, no rush, I’m staying the night in Portland)
Our bus driver went all road ragey in Seattle and almost caused a huge accident under the convention center on I-5 when he lost it and started to bully a little blue car (not once, but three times). Yes, I reported him to his company and Cascade; State Patrol wouldn’t take a report the next day.
My bike was not there (I lost the truck lotto and the other truck left first) so I had to go back up and bail flash of out “bike jail” the next day. At least I made an enjoyable trip out of it and took my friend Francine with me for lunch and a beer on the waterfront.
What a crazy thing to do (over and over again) I’m sore, tired and my cells are swimming in lactic acid.
I’m already planning next year.
We got very lucky this weekend and had some breaks between torrential downpours, so it was time to get out on the bike for something other than a wet, soggy slog of a commute.
After a great Friday night at El Guadalajara unwinding with friends after a long work week, I hopped on my bike (sans rain pants, but they were in the panniers) Saturday morning and headed over to the Proctor Farmer’s Market for a cup of Feisty Gals Coffee and to visit with friends Janet and Daniel who also cycled over.
|From Drop Box|
It was the Jr Daffodil parade so it was really fun seeing the school bands and floats and it also made the market an even more busy/happening place than usual.
After visiting with lots of friends and vendors, we rode over to the Rosewood Cafe for an awesome lunch. We shared a warmed brie covered in a fabulous pecan balsamic/honey reduction served with apple slices and warm crusty bread; there was also roasted pepper soup, bruschetta and good microbrew.
Sunday also provided a rain free (albeit cold) opportunity to get outside and play. I brought my negleted road bike Flash up out of the basement and rode her figuring that I wasn’t going to need the disk brakes or ability to carry a change of clothing that I have with Xena the commuter bike. She has half fenders, so if it rained, I wouldn’t have a streak of mud up my backside. (a LiveJournal friend of mine in another state commented that he had never seen a bike with areobars AND fenders 😉
I rode over to the Narrows to meet my friend, stopped by to chat with another friend in the same neighborhood and headed over to Pt Defiance for a lovely ride through the old growth forest along Five Mile Drive.
After a stop to visit another friend, we rode down to the waterfront (always fun negotiating the Ruston tunnel on a bike) for a burger and a beer at the RAM.
Even on a cold cloudy day, Tacoma is a pretty awesome place to live.
|From Drop Box|
and the beer was good too 🙂
|From Drop Box|
Of course, the most “fun” part was climbing back up to the hill from sea level.
It doesn’t make sense, but for some reason, I think that Starr St has a gentler grade than McCarver, so we went that way. (the road bike doesn’t have the low gears that the commuter bike has)
That ride ended up being about 20 miles with around 1.100 feet of climbing.
Any spring weekend up here where you can get out on your bike both days is a good one.
It’s not even 7:00 AM yet and today is already made of fail.
Not just fail, Epic Fail.
I hardly slept at all last night (don’t even get me started on the idiocy of changing the clocks back and forth twice a year; that’s a rant for when I have more time) because I was worried about the storm, and the hill, and getting out the door on time, and this that and the other.
Other than the usual fight with my bike shoe covers (I think I may have pulled a butt muscle), it was an uneventful morning and I got out the door in time to make it to the train station.
I had packed lunch, my clothing and taken care of everything I needed to the night before.
Or so I thought.
I turned the corner and thought to myself, “Wow, the bike is rigid and heavy, but I shouldn’t be feeling every little bump in the road.”
And of course, I had a flat rear tire (for those who don’t cycle, rear tires are a pain to change out because you have to deal with the chain and rear derailleur)
This bike has different rims that I’m used to, no quick releases for the wheels and disk brakes (all of which make a tire change more difficult/time consuming than my other bikes) which meant that I wasn’t about to make my train if I changed the tire there in the cold wet street. Heck, I still struggle getting the panniers on and off the bike.
Today was not a day where I had the luxury of being late. I had things that had to be done before I head into an all day training session (don’t get me started on having to waste an entire day sitting though a recertification on CPR/First Aid/AED when I’m more qualified than the instructor and used to teach the instructors)
So I hauled the bike back into the house and drove in to work. (Epic FAIL)
I’ll take everything off the back of the bike and change the tube out after work today when I have time, and light.
Tomorrow is another day, but I’m super annoyed with myself because if I had checked the stupid tire last night, I’d have found it and fixed it.
Yeah, I feel smart.
It was my Monday off and it wasn’t really raining, so I was able to join the Tacoma Wheelmen for Joyce’s Hale Hearty and Ready for Coffee ride.
I lost count of the ride participants at 30-something.
Welcome to the dark side, we have COOKIES!
Tacoma Wheelmen go crazy (in a good way) when it’s
good not completely craptastic cycling weather. (which basically means, no ice, snow or relentless torrential downpours) I remember rides last year where we literally followed the de icing truck down the road in the North End and one when we all had snotcicles and our eyelashes froze on the way to Spanaway.
Here’s a photo of Steve taking a photo of the huge group at the Proctor Starbucks.
We invaded the streets of North Tacoma and wound our way to Pt Defiance…
Matt from the Harmon Bike Club was out for a solo ride and said that he saw a few bikers zip by and thought to himself “cool”, then more zipped by, and more… and more… and more…
He caught up with us in Pt Defiance. (where there were more COOKIES!)
We cruised through the west end… (obligatory photo of Bill’s butt)
and invaded our favorite espresso shop in University Place (inside and out)
It was 26 glorious (almost dry, not quite warm) hilly miles. (well, 4.16 extra for me since I rode to the ride start from home)
Of course, on every hill I kept saying, “I am so NOT ready for Chilly Hilly”
More photos here…
I hope we have decent riding weather on Saturday!
I’ve lived here 11 years, and before today had not been on Vashon Island (OK, one quick trip by kayak and a quick landing on a beach).
Today, my dear friend Janet and I took a lovely bike ride around the island on a spectacularly beautiful autumn day.
We met at the Antique Sandwich (a mere 5.31 miles from my place by bike) for coffe, treats and to plan our adventure.
We cycled down the road to the Pt Defiance ferry terminal to board the MV Rhododendron for a ride out to Tahlequah on Vashon Island. One of the many humorous bits of this trip was Janet pronouncing Tahlequah as Tequila.
All of the routes on the island are rated “Moderate to Difficult” or “Difficult” This land was forged by fire and ice; volcanoes and glaciers. We don’t have flat ground. I knew that I wasn’t really in shape for this ride, but have been wanting to do it for two years and have had weather or health issues each time I planned it, and I wanted to do it with Janet. So I sucked it up, put on my “big girl bike shorts” and just did it.
We made a hard right when we got off the ferry instead of taking the main highway and hugged the East side of the island and Quartermaster Harbor. (because it just wasn’t difficult enough to take the main route)
One of the “attractions” on the East side is the stationary bicycles.
Since we hadn’t burned out our quads enough yet, we played on them for a bit…
It was spectacular/awesome/amazing/totally worth the quad burn/wind sucking to be riding on that island on such a lovely day.
After riding up the East side and hugging the water, we stopped in town for lunch at “The Hardware Store” (a nice restaurant) and headed up the highway towards the North side ferry terminal.
We cut over on Cedearhurst Road (one of those “difficult” routes on the map) and made a stop at Fern Cove.
We rose some more switchbacky hills out to the West side Highway Wax Orchard Road, and finally Vashon Highway back to the ferry terminal.
We made the 3:10 ferry back to Tacoma leaving us plenty of time to get ready for our work week.
Check out the hill we ride back up to get home (we both had more hills to get to our respective homes)
It was an awesome day with a dear friend.
My Garmin shows that I rode 43 miles and climbed 6,088 feet. I wasn’t fast, (all except that 30 mph bit) but feel pretty good after the ride, so maybe I’m not in quite as bad a shape as I thought.
Here is the route we took today
It was a GREAT day!
Today I went on a bike ride with several groups from the Bicycle Alliance (comprised of the Tacoma Wheelmen, Cyclists of Greater Seattle, BIKES of Snohomish County, West Sound Bike Club and the Capital City Bike Club)
Carla from the Wheelmen organized one of the rides as a social tour of Tacoma and Gene took a faster group out to do the Steilacoom Spin.
We started and ended our ride at the HUB.
It was raining lightly (and it was wind and butt cold) when I left my apartment (apparently it poured last night, but we were all to busy yakking, laughing and drinking wine to notice) I figured that I might as well get used to riding in crappy weather.
I had breakfast and a latte at home, but went ahead and had a biscuit and a cup of decaf so that I could sit with the breakfast crowd and socialize a bit.
We headed out through the streets of Tacoma and hit the Scott Pierson Trail
We of course, took a ride across the Narrows Bridge.
I warned the riders from other areas to be careful of the cross winds on the bridge. It’s common to fly down the ramp to the bridge and get hit by a sudden, unexpected nasty cross wind which can cause and accident.
I mean come on, wind (and bad engineering) is what took down the 1st Narrows bridge, our own ill fated, infamous Galloping Gertie.
Here’s an old newsreel complete with fabulous narration. (although the Tacoma Narrows is not a “river”; it is an extremely treacherous passage in the Puget Sound)
We got onto the bridge in the cold wind without incident, but one of our visitors was blown down about mid span on the bridge. Luckily, he was slowing down to stop, so it was more like an unable to unclip at a stoplight fall than a high speed crash.
He was fine. Here’s the view from mid span on the bridge.
We headed back to Tacoma for more touring and a view of our waterfront.
After a flat tire…
We headed back to the HUB for appropriate food and beverages
I came home, fixed my toilet (some handyman service on twitter offered me a $25 coupon to fix my toilet… Uh, scuse me… I can fix my own darn toilet, it’s not rocket science. I tweeted that I was going to go to Home Depot not that I was some wussy girl that couldn’t fix her own toilet. Dorks)
I ran a couple of errands and came home to finish cleaning up after last night’s party.
Tomorrow, I’m getting up early to meet Janet for coffee before boarding the Vashon Island Ferry for a ride that’s probably hillier than I should be attempting as out of shape and off training as I am right now.
I don’t care, it’s going to be a beautiful day tomorrow (albeit a bit cold) and I want to go out there with my friend.
I’ll post pictures of our adventure tomorrow.
I was pretty bummed about missing RAPSody this weekend. (not even going to rehash the rest of it) and my dear friend Janet told me about a Tacoma Wheelmen on Sunday ride that would be relatively flat (I forgot about the hills at the arboretum and Seward Park) and only 40-50 miles.
So we headed out to Tukwila on Sunday morning (which is not the same thing as “Going to Tukwila”) to meet the group at the Sounder station.
I was told that the station was totally ghetto (I get off the train in Kent, the stop just before there and joke that I’ll never sleep on the train because I might wake up in Tukwila) and I wasn’t disappointed. It’s a crappy wooden platform built on stilts on the side of a berm. I should have taken a picture.
We rode up the Inter Urban Trail through South Park over the 1st Ave Bridge to the waterfront, down Alaskan Way and through Myrtle Edwards Park to Ballard.
This is my dear friend Janet riding through Ballard
The stopped for lunch at tthe Ballard Locks
Of course, we visited the fish ladder.
Check out the size of that Chinook (King) Salmon (lower left in the picture)
and this guy looks like he wanted us for lunch instead of the other way around…
We rode on the Burke-Gilman Trail (OMG, that final link needs to be completed, you take your life in your hands riding on the streets of Ballard) out to the University, over the arboretum and down Lake Washington back down South.
Here’s our route (all except the place where I forgot to turn my Garmin back on after stopping at the restroom so it went line of sight and makes it look like we rode through the water)
This was a good ride for me mentally (not so much physically as I almost bonked coming back up off the lake)
I realized when riding over the arboretum and along the lake, that I’ve never driven a vehicle either of those places. I’ve always been on a marathon course running or a bike course riding.
or in a sideshow here:
We arrived back to the ghetto train station for a total of 44 miles. As crappy as I was feeling, I think it was the longest 44 miles I’ve ever ridden.
But it was worth it. I felt alive, I felt the wind in my face and I felt the companionship of friends.