It's Saturday May 22, 1999 and Andy and his wife Janet show up at my house right around 4:00 AM. I've already been up for an hour, having breakfast and doing the final tweak to the bike. We put my Bike Friday on the back of Andy's SUV next to his Lemond and drive to the ferry dock in Seattle. To this point, all the brevets we've done have been in cold and wet weather, including the make-up 400K brevet Andy did a few weeks ago to recover from the shame of his DNF in the first 400. Last Sunday, I rode a solo 200 mile (322 KM) training ride up to Darrington an about two thirds of that ride was in the rain. But the 600K would be a different story with the forecast calling for sun and temps in the seventies today and the eighties tomorrow. Because I never quite believe the forecasts and have a basic prepare for the worst mentality, I have my full clothing kit: a cotton cap under my helmet, a long sleeve light REI polypro shirt, my short sleeve SIR jersey, my light wool zip t-neck sweater, shorts, tights, socks, seal-skin oversocks and shoes. Somewhere in my big saddlebag, I have a thin balaclava, a space blanket, and a chemical handwarmer just in case of a sudden ice-age.

But it looks like I really won't need the cold weather stuff and maybe the forecasters are right for a change. Janet drops us off and Andy and I wheel our bikes over where the other rando folk are gathering at the dock waiting for the 5:10 ferry to Bremerton. A lot of folks have bags to be dropped of at either La Push or Port Angeles but this isn't an issue for me. I'd been contemplating using the bag drop but my wife Christine, who is fond of quoting chapter and verse from the Randonneur's Handbook, pointed out that "a true randonneur does not require outside support". So all my gear is either on me or on the bike. Some of the other riders are intrigued by my latest inventions, a small light that illuminates my bike computer and an improved route sheet holder. The computer light is a tiny Photon Lithium powered LED microlight about the size and weight of a quarter. I used an old spoke that I bent into a hook shape to hold the light above the computer and some of the light spills over onto my route sheet holder. The route sheet holder itself was something I made because I was tired of having to stop and refold my route sheet every time we moved onto a new section of the ride. I envisioned something like a clear plastic cylinder that would hold the sheet rolled up and that I'd rotate as the ride progressed. When I was describing this to Christine she said "oh, something about the size and shape of a plastic tennis ball can." So here I am with a plastic tennis ball can held to my handlebars with a length of inner tube rubber. I'd already done a test run with this set-up and it works great.

We all pile on the ferry and spend the trip over to Bremerton signing in, chatting, having breakfast and doing the final tweaks to our bikes and gear. There are 25 of us, and I know pretty much everybody at least by sight if not by name. I've decided that maybe it really is going to be warm and dry, so I wrap my Burley "Master of Misery" rain jacket around the outside of my Camelbak-style lumbar pack. Still, it's early morning and not really warm yet so I keep my wool zip t-neck sweater and tights on over my jersey and shorts.

The ride is scheduled to start at 6:30 AM but the ferry docks early and Pete Bajema, the ride organizer, figures there's no point burning daylight so we all take off at 6:10 AM. I've never been in Bremerton and I suppose I should just be following the cue sheet but at the start of a ride its easier to just follow the guy in front of you. Unless, of course, the guy in front of you is Jan. As I've noted elsewhere, Jan is quite fast but the real problem is that Jan navigates about as well as I speak French. Before you can say "Je suis perdu" Jan is stopped and looking puzzled. We look behind us and see the rest of the crew going straight through an intersection where we had turned right. We turn around and give chase. I adjust my cue sheet and find new folks to follow.

Once we're out of Bremerton, things are easy. We get onto SR 3 and ride it North for about 20 miles. This a good stretch of road and people are feeling good. It's sunny but still cool. Ken is looking good on his Gold Rush, zipping ahead of me at times. Andy has vowed he'll take things easy, so he's holding back and spinning on the small ring. Jan, of course, is not taking it easy and I think there are some others out ahead as well. I noticed that today Jan even has a bike with more than one chain ring, so I figure he'll be even faster than usual. I'm feeling good and I pass a few folks including Ken. But this is a long ride and we're all just starting to settle into our paces.

We turn left on Hwy 104 and cross the Hood Canal floating bridge. It's still fairly early so the traffic is light. As I climb up the hill just past the bridge, I see Jan pulled over, tweaking something with his wheel. I know he'll pass me again before long. 104 merges onto 101 and while most of my body is feeling pretty good, something isn't sitting right in my intestines. Ken has accused me of not being a true randonneur because I "don't suffer enough". Ken is of the "share your pain" school of thought, so he makes sure everybody within earshot knows just what agony he's in. Usually, I really don't have any significant aches or pains to complain about and when I do, I save my whining for when I'm home with Christine. My usual technique on the road is to get a song in my head and the one that pops in today is "I Haven't Got Time For The Pain" by Carly Simon. Yeah, I know, kind of a weenie song for a guy who was raised on rock and blues but sometimes that top forty is just too catchy and in this case the lyrics really work. But having Carly's voice in my head isn't cutting it. I need something gruffer, John Lee Hooker maybe or Tom Waits. And then it hits me. It's perfect. I keep the song, but mentally change the singer. I need somebody rugged, somebody adaptable.... So I'm going down the road hearing "I Haven't Got Time For The Pain" as sung by former navy seal, former pro-wrestler, former actor and now governor of my home state of Minnesota, Jesse "the body" Ventura! Yep, if he can growl, "I ain't got time to bleed!" he can certainly put a little soul into a Carly Simon song. And a few miles later, I'm feeling fine.

The town of Sequim is the first control point. It's an open control, so I ride most of the way through town and then see Melissa pulled over at coffee stop/gas station and it's as good a control as any. It's 10:15 AM, and we're 62 miles into the ride. I get my control card initialed, have a single shot grande iced white chocolate mocha and head back out on the road.

Fifteen miles down the road is Port Angeles and a new song is in my head, Neil Young singing "coming into Port Angeles, bringing in a couple of keys, don't touch my bags if you please, Mr. Customs man". One of the all time great drug-smuggling songs. Speaking of drugs, I wonder if I'm on drugs when I see some giant yellow thing in front of a big Toyota dealership. At first I think it's some kind of giant lemon which strikes me as an odd thing to have in front of a car dealership but as I get closer I realize it's an enormous rubber ducky. I try not to think about what this means and I ride on through Port Angeles.

It's getting pretty warm now and a bit past Port Angeles, I stop to take off my tights and sweater and grab a Snapple Ice Tea at a gas station. Melissa had been on my tail coming into PA and she also stops at the gas station along with a few other riders including Andy. I'm the first one out of the station and head down the road to the turn off for 112.

This section has some amazing scenery. Actually a lot of the ride had amazing scenery with the Strait of Juan de Fuca off to our right (North) and the snow-capped Olympic mountains to our left (south). But here on route 112 there are some hills and at one point you crest a hill, look down and see Lake Crescent shining at the foot of the mountains and it just makes your jaw drop in amazement. It's a postcard view that reminds me why people come from all over the world just to see this corner of our continent. And I know I'm one of the luckiest guys in the world to be riding through this spectacle on a spectacular day.

 

 

The next control (mile 111, KM 178) is Ken Carter's car set up at the bottom of a hill. I pull in at 1:40 PM. Ken has outfitted this simple base camp with all the things essential to life: water, Cheetos and some bushes in which to pee. As I'm snacking, the usual suspects roll in. I head out a few minutes later but it isn't long before Andy catches up with me and we sort of ride together.

I really don't do much group riding, as I've learned that what works best for me is to ride exactly at the pace that feels right for me and not to worry about grabbing a draft from a pack. Also, I'm a fairly light guy, so I don't descend as fast as some of the heavier, braver folks. But it all seems to balance out and I wind up seeing a lot of the same folks in the course of these rides. Andy tends to go faster than I do, but he takes some time to warm up after a stop. A guy like Jan is very fast but he uses that speed to give himself time for leisurely stops at the controls. One of the neat things about randonneuring is seeing how the different folks approach the ride.

Peter McKay, Mark Thomas, Wayne Methner and Pete Liekkio tend to ride as an organized unit and are another group that I usually wind up seeing quite often but today Mark popped a spoke on his fancy-schmancy wheels and this slowed them down for quite a bit. Eric Courtney was riding with Andy and me for a bit, but he'd been having problems with is feet and stopped to soak his feet in a tempting roadside stream.

Andy and I are riding together for much of the section headed out toward Neah Bay. Our route isn't actually going all the way out to the end, but we do go far enough out to see the folks protesting against the Makah Indian whale hunt. Earlier in the week the Makah's actually managed to kill a gray whale and this weekend is the big potlach feast. Andy and I joke that we should keep going and get ourselves a big blubber smoothie. We're both wearing our SIR jerseys, which have a nice native motif. This proves to be the perfect garb for the day. The protesters see us on our bikes and think "hey, folks riding bikes, they must be eco-types" and they smile and wave at us. We wave back. The natives see us in our native print jerseys, figure we're on the tribal-rights side of things and they smile and wave at us. We wave back.

The next control is Ray's Chevron, about seven miles past the small town of Sekiu. A few miles before the Chevron, a pack of three riders pass us. They are moving fast, really fast, and they are on loaded touring bikes. Yep, it's humiliating. One is on a mountain bike with slicks, one is towing a BOB trailer and one is a fairly small woman riding a touring bike with front and rear panniers. And they are going at a speed I normally associate with rabid dogs and a downhill run. Of course, Andy tucks in behind this turbo train. I watch them disappear, the three riders smoothly changing lead every minute or so and Andy working to stay in their draft.

A bit down the road, I see Andy stopped and looking dazed. "They spit you out the back, eh?" I ask. "No," Andy lies, "I was hanging with them. I just, uh, wanted to make sure I didn't miss the control." Yeah, right, I'm thinking. We pull up to the control (mile 136, KM 219) at 3:53 PM. I buy two pints of milk and two Hershey bars at the Chevron and have a nice snack. I chat with Andy, Eric and one other fellow (Charlie maybe?) We talk about those turbo tourists. "They didn't slow down, not even on the hills," Andy assures us. None of us have any clue who those folks were, but it sure makes me question the translation of randonneur as "super-tourist". We aren't super tourists, we just ride more than most folks. That crew with the fully loaded bikes going like hell, they are the super tourists. (NOTE: after I posted this, I got the following message from TerryZ: "The trio of tourers who passed you was Dave Levy, owner of Ti Cycles and an excellent rider, with two of his racing buddies. They were on a two day tour from Sequim to Neah Bay and back. No shame is being passed by these three :-) -- Terry"

From this control we backtrack to Clallam Bay. I take a bathroom break here and that's the last I'll see of the others until La Push. This section of the ride has some longer climbs and it's quite warm now. But it's still real pretty country and I'm realizing that I probably will make it to the next control at La Push in daylight.

I reach the La Push control (mile 187, KM 300) at 7:38 PM. This is a beautiful section of coastline with rocky islands just off shore. The sun is getting low in the sky and when I stop it is cool enough that I put on my sweater and tights. Greg Cox has this control set up nicely with deli meats for sandwiches, hot coffee and hot water for noodle soup. I have some soup, cookies and Cheetos, take a bathroom break and make sure my Camelbak and bottles are filled up. Mark's wife Chris has driven out from Redmond with his spare bike, really going above and beyond the call of spousal duty. Andy, Eric and I all take off about the same time and head back toward Highway 101.

I reach 101 a bit ahead of the others and stop to turn on my lights as it is now getting quite dark. Before long Andy and Eric pass me. Even at night, I really don't ride with other folks too much. For rear lighting I have a small LED flasher on my rear fender, one on my saddlebag and one on my lumbar pack. My forward lighting consists of a green LED flasher so the cars can see me and a Cateye Halogen Hyper that I've modified to run off an external pack of 4 D cells. I have a spare Halogen Hyper with Lithium AA cells tucked in my handlebar bag as a backup in case my main light fails. This system works well for me and it turned out I never had to use the spare light.

I'm starting to get a bit sleepy and thinking that it is a long slog back to Port Angeles when I see a wonderful sight -- the SIR control board propped by the side of the road! It's a secret control set up at the motel at Bear Creek. Tom, Andy and Eric had pulled in just a couple of minutes before. I split a Coke with Eric, have some chips and spend a couple of minutes laid flat out on one of the beds. This little break was quite refreshing and even though it's tempting to stay, we head off into the night.

The others are moving a little faster and I stop midway on one descent to change into my fleece gloves and put my rain jacket on as an extra layer for warmth. The ride along the south side of Lake Crescent is really wonderful and there is very little traffic. A few other riders pass me and later I pass a few of them and as we get into Port Angeles we form a little group for the last bit of navigation to the control at the Super 8 Motel.

It's 2:28 AM when I get my card stamped at the Super 8 (mile 260, KM 418). I get up to one of the rooms Pete has booked for us. Andy has already been there for a few minutes and he asks me what my plan is and I tell him I'm planning on sleeping for a bit. "How long?" he asks. I look at my watch and do a quick calculation on when sunrise is "I'll get up at 4:30," I say. Andy says he'll get up then to, but his voice doesn't have a very convincing tone to it. Pete asks me if I want to take a shower, but I wasn't in the mood to mess with my finely tuned coating of sweat, sunscreen and Udderly Smooth butt cream. "Nope," I say, "I'll just sleep here." And I pop down on the edge of the bed, lay back and go to sleep.

One thing I've always been able to do is wake myself on demand with my internal mental alarm clock. Thoreau wrote "We must learn to reawaken and keep ourselves awake, not by mechanical aids, but by an infinite expectation of the dawn, which does not forsake us in our soundest sleep." Well, the expectation of the dawn did not forsake me and at 4:30 AM, I snap awake. I spend a couple of minutes unlacing my shoes and massaging my feet (mental note to self -- take shoes off before falling asleep!) and then I put my shoes back on and eat a chocolate muffin for breakfast. Another rider comes in as I'm getting ready to leave and I don't see any sign of Andy who had gone to sleep in the other motel room. I get a cup of coffee at the entry area of the motel and rather than wait for it to cool to drinking temperature I cool it with a couple of spits from my Camelbak. At 4:50 AM, I take off.

It's 45 miles to the control in Quilcene, so I wind up stopping about half way there for a quick snack from my stash of Powerbar Harvest Bars and Boost Bars. I reach the Quilcene control (mile 305, KM 491) at 8:15 AM. When I pull in, I see George Wilson, a rider from Portland is already there. George and I had met on the 400K brevet when we were both having burgers at a place in Concrete. "I thought I might see you," he says, "Did you stop and sleep?" "A couple of hours in Port Angeles," I reply. George tells me he's ridden straight through. For a guy running on no sleep, he's looking good. The guy at the store tells us that there is only one rider out ahead of us. George has bought one more bottle of water than he needs, so he gives it to me and then heads off. I buy the breakfast of champions: a Hershey bar and two bottles of Mocha Frappicino. While I'm eating Jan, Vince and Terry Z pull in. They'd gotten into Port Angeles at 10:39 last night and had opted for a full night's sleep. Jim Trout had pulled into PA at 12:10 PM but had only taken a rest break of about an hour. Jan, Vince and Terry blast off before I've finished eating.

The section from Quilcene to Port Townsend is really not pleasant. The terrain is rolling hills and there is a nasty headwind. On the downhill sections there are a lot of places where I'm powering to keep the bike going above 12 mph. The only consoling thought is that once I get to Port Townsend, I'll turn around and then this wind will be at my back.

It takes me almost the entire twenty five miles to catch up with George and of course I don't catch the others. I see Jim, Jan, Vince and Terry all headed back with smiles on their faces and the wind at their backs. In Port Townsend I go past the McDonalds and on to the end of town where Pete has left a stamp by the Marina. I stamp my card and head back to the McDonalds and get my card stamped there as well. It's 10:57 AM (mile 333, KM 537). Andy and Charlie pull in but I explain to them that they have to go down to the end and get stamped. A bit later Eric comes in and I repeat the explanation. Was I the only one paying attention when Pete explained this in his pre-ride instructions? Well, maybe not. George had gone down to the end and now he's back and we share a table as we eat. I have an apple pie, a small order of french fries and an orange juice and then I'm off again.

The tailwind is just as nice as I thought it would be. It's very warm and sunny and the temperature is somewhere in the eighties. I'm humming along and the hilly farmland is a whole lot nicer with the wind at my back. I turn onto highway 104 and then it's over the Hood Canal Bridge again. The traffic is heavier now with a whole lot of RVs returning from their weekend jaunts on the peninsula but it's broad daylight and I hold my line. The thought does cross my mind that much of this course would be really nasty if it was raining and dark.

I keep cranking all the way to Bainbridge Island. I figure Andy is working to close the gap and even though this isn't a race, I know enough about myself to know I'll feel better if I finish ahead of him. At 2:32 PM I roll up to the ferry dock (mile 374, KM 601) and check in. Andy and Charlie pull in five minutes later and Eric is less than a minute behind them. Eric had continued to have foot problems but finished the ride with his shoes clipped to his pedals and his feet resting on the tops of his shoes! I take a quick hike up the hill and get myself a mocha fudge ice-cream cone and we catch the next ferry back to Seattle. Andy had called Janet before we caught the ferry and she meets up with us a couple of minutes after the ferry docks.

Unlike some of our previous brevets, almost everyone who started this one finished it. The weather was great but with over 15,000 feet of climbing, this ride wasn't a freebie. 23 completed out of the 25 starters. Jim Trout was the first rider in at 12:40 PM with Jan, Vince and Terry coming in a half hour later. Here are the full results:

Last Name

First Name

Rider's Club

Code ACP

Time

(x)

BAJEMA

Pete

Seattle International Randonneurs

947018

36 h 40

x

BRETT

Tom

Seattle International Randonneurs

947018

34 h 00

x

CARTER

Ken W.

Seattle International Randonneurs

947018

36 h 40

x

COURTNEY

Eric

Seattle International Randonneurs

947018

32 h 07

x

DUSSLER

William

Seattle International Randonneurs

947018

34 h 00

x

FULLER

Andy

Seattle International Randonneurs

947018

32 h 07

x

HEINE

Jan

Seattle International Randonneurs

947018

30 h 40

x

HIMSCHOOT

Ron

Seattle International Randonneurs

947018

34 h 30

x

KRICHMAN

Kenneth

Seattle International Randonneurs

947018

37 h 10

x

KYDD

Melissa

Seattle International Randonneurs

947018

37 h 05

x

LEE

Ronald D.

Seattle International Randonneurs

947018

39 hr 20

x

LIEKKIO

Peter

Seattle International Randonneurs

947018

34 h 45

x

MAGYAR

Robert

Seattle International Randonneurs

947018

38 h 55

x

McKAY

Peter

Seattle International Randonneurs

947018

34 h 45

x

METHNER

Wayne W.

Seattle International Randonneurs

947018

34 h 45

x

PADO

Dick

Seattle International Randonneurs

947018

34 h 30

x

PETERSON

Kent

Seattle International Randonneurs

947018

32 h 02

x

SIKORSKI

Vince

Seattle International Randonneurs

947018

30 h 40

x

THOMAS

Mark

Seattle International Randonneurs

947018

34 h 45

x

TROUT

James

Seattle International Randonneurs

947018

30 h 10

x

VANZANDT

Charlie

Seattle International Randonneurs

947018

32 h 07

x

VIGESAA

Lynne Barber

Seattle International Randonneurs

947018

39 h 20

x

WILSON

George

Portland Wheelman Cycling Club

947018

33 h 30

x

ZMRHAL

Terry

Seattle International Randonneurs

947018

30 h 40

x

 

With the completion of this brevet, many of the SIR riders have fulfilled the qualification requirements for Paris-Brest-Paris. Andy doesn't think he can afford to take the time off from work and Ken claims he's undecided about going. But I've decided I'm going. I've sent my deposit to Claus, I've already scheduled the time off from work and I've applied for my passport. The kids are going to stay with the grandparents and Christine and I are going to Paris.

Bon Courage!