Desert River 300

Another Windy Adventure

I decided to go over to eastern Washington for the Desert Rivers 300K in hopes of riding in sunshine and maybe even warmth.  A few days before the ride, the weather forecast was not encouraging.  There was a 60% chance of rain and high, gusty winds predicted for the day of the ride.  Nonetheless, after offering to drive a carpool with Steve Davis and Noel Howes, I was committed and had to go.  It seemed my record of bad luck on out of town rides was not to be broken.

Vincent and Kole at the start

Despite the dismal weather forecast, thirteen intrepid riders rolled out at 6:00 with the goal of being back by 2:00 in the morning on Sunday.  The peloton followed the Columbia River Trail road out of Richland in a slight drizzle.

We soon passed into Kennewick and crossed the river to Pasco quickly making the first control at the edge of Burbank.  Like the other riders, I knew we would be pushing a headwind after Waitsburg so my goal was to build up as large a time cushion as possible during the first 100K.  After leaving the control, there were a couple of riders ahead of me, but the gap didn’t seem to be growing so I decided to try and bridge up to them, but found that I could not sustain the effort on uphill grades. Riding alone, I settled into a steady pace.

Riders at Burbank Control

Highway 124 runs parallel to the Touchet River which was running high and a bit muddy due to the recent rain had stopped and the sky was clearing.  I passed the riders I had been unable to catch earlier while one of the group was fixing a flat.  As expected, the group passed me back as we entered the town of Prescott.

After a brief detour off of the main highway, we arrived at the Waitsburg Grocery control.  I stocked up on some supplies for later in the ride and began to prepare mentally for a long stretch into a headwind.  After the short break at the control, I teamed up with Noel and Steve in anticipation of the challenge ahead.

Main Street - Waitsburg

Leaving the main highway, we began a long climb up Middle Waitsburg Road into a headwind.  It was slow going and the need to draft while climbing was very strange.  After the initial climb, there were a few more rollers but we continued to make steady progress.  At the crest of one hill, there were some little kids excited to see cyclists passing their yard.  Noel and I rang our bells and waved as we passed.

Pioneer Park

We finally made it to Walla Walla where Paul and Susan met us at the park control with a selection of traditional rando food.  The Pioneer Park is very pretty, but we couldn’t afford to linger.  After taking a brief rest, it was time to keep rolling.  We proceeded through town and south toward the Oregon border.  This stretch was the most unpleasant part of the ride.  There was a lot of traffic and the shoulder was riddled with assorted debris.

As we entered the town of Morton-Freewater, Noel voiced what I had been thinking—it would be great to stop for some real food.  The first place we saw was the Wee Bit O’Heather cafe.  We all had pie and coffee, which really hit the spot.   Refreshed, we continued on toward Pendleton.

After Milton-Freewater, the road became better and the traffic was not as heavy. However, the headwinds became stronger. We struggled to hold a line, and it seemed that there was little difference between being first or last in our three person pace line.  I lost contact with Noel and Steve on the last climb before Pendleton.  I caught up with them at Hal’s Hamburgers, a drive-in style burger joint, on the edge of town.  We used it as our control stop and enjoyed a meal of burgers and fries.

Leaving Pendleton into a gusting headwind (reportedly gusts up to 46mph); we entered the Umatilla River canyon.  Had it not been for the headwinds, it would have been the highlight of the ride.  We got a slight respite from the wind on some of the shielded corners only to be blasted by the wind as we rounded the bend.  About halfway through the canyon, I felt I was starting to bonk so I requested a quick refueling stop.  Unfortunately, I was unable to keep it down but I felt better afterward and we continued on riding into a beautiful sunset.

Steve needed to fill his bottles, so we stopped at a store at the I-84 intersection to rest and refuel before continuing on to Hermiston and then the Umatilla control.

Excited about the descent into Hermiston, I somehow managed to out run Noel and Steve on the downhill.  After making it into town, I waited for them.  When their lights were in sight, I started up again expecting them to catch up shortly.  Unfortunately, the GPS route and the cue sheet were out of sync.  Following my GPS, I missed the turn which Noel and Steve who were going strictly by the cue sheet made.  Realizing my mistake, I turned back and found the route again.  I made it to the Umatilla control only a few minutes after them.

We all had coffee and a little bit of food in Umatilla.  I was beginning to be toasted and managed to spill some of my coffee while searching for some salty snacks.  I tipped the clerk for the trouble of having to clean it up.  We left Umatilla with 28 miles to go and four hours in which to do it.  After carrying our bikes through the glass riddled tunnel under the interstate, we continued uphill on Plymouth Road.  I focused on trying to keep my speed above the 7 mph needed to finish within the time limit.  With two hours left on the clock, I happily noted we were keeping the pace with about 13 miles to go. 

With about three miles left until the turn on to Clodfelter Road, Noel encouraged us to push for the top and took off expecting us to follow.  Unfortunately, I was beginning to bonk.  Steve encouraged me to stop and take some food.  After the short break, we continued up the hill.  I kept thinking that I’d soon be at the point where we would descend back to Richland.  I was looking forward to cresting a climb and seeing the city lights below.

When I finally made the crest with the lights of the Tri Cities shimmering in the distance, I was relieved to know I’d make it within the time limit.  I let the bike run on the downhill, scrubbing off speed only on sharp corners.  After spending the day struggling on the climbs while fighting the wind, it was nice to get up some speed.  I soon caught up with Steve (I’ve been told that good hubs and a large ass are assets on descents). 

Despite the clear instructions on the cue sheet (this time ignoring my GPS), I missed the turn onto Leslie Road, but caught the mistake before we’d gone very far down the hill beyond it.  After turning around and getting back on course, Steve and I rolled up to the finish at 1:14 completing the ride in 19:14.  Noel had arrived about at 1:00 just 14 minutes before us.  We quickly got our cards validated and rode back to the motel for hot showers and well earned sleep.

I am very grateful to Noel and Steve for sticking with me through the brevet.  Although I don’t mind riding alone, the conditions would have made this ride very daunting.  Thanks to Paul and Susan for planning an excellent course and for the extra food in Walla Walla—it was a great ride.

Randonneuring is a Stupid Sport

My Arivaca 400K Experience

Many of my friends—even fellow cyclists—consider attempting to ride 400K in 27 hours to be an act of stupidity even under ideal conditions. In randonneuring, it seems ideal conditions are the exception—not the rule. The AZ Brevet Series Arivaca 400K was true to form.

All smiles at breakfast.

The week before my friend and riding companion, Rick, and I left Seattle for Phoenix the weather was beautiful with highs going into the 80’s. I began to have dreams of riding in February under sunny blue skies. During the last few days before the ride, I watched the ride day forecast for Casa Grande and Tucson with declining optimism. The sunny warm days had been replaced by forecasts of high winds and rain.

Pre-ride breakfast!

Despite the dismal forecast, Rick and I rolled up to the start around 4:30 and collected our brevet cards. I was happy to see Irene Takahashi from Colorado with whom I had finished the Cascade 1200 and another Rick from Seattle—Rick Blacker. During the pre-ride briefing, we were warned about the weather forecast for high gusty winds and overnight rain. The forecast had winnowed the field by seven riders before we even started. We were advised to try to get to Arivaca as quickly as possible. A strong tailwind was promised for the return. We rolled out promptly at 5:00 and since there was already a headwind, a pace line formed that rolled along at about 16-17 mph. 

Things were going reasonably well until mile 20. After completing my pull, I discovered Rick was no longer with the group. Looking back down the long straight road behind me, he was no where in sight. I turned around and began to look for him. After about a mile, I found him with another group of riders. The wind and dry air and had caused him to lose a contact lens. After a few more miles, the same contact popped out again. He was unable to get it back in so I suggested he put it in the case and let it soak for a while. We stopped at the Picacho Peak Shell where, using the building as a wind block, he was finally able to get it to stay put.

At this point, we were on our own but there were other riders in sight ahead. We took turns pulling and eventually caught up to Irene who was struggling against the headwind alone. We encouraged her to join us and she gratefully accepted. We would ride the rest of the day together.

Rick & Irene - Marana

Even with the problems, we made it to the Marana checkpoint (44 miles) in pretty good time and left with about 1:20 in the bank. As the three of us rolled south toward Tucson, the wind began to become a significant factor. We made the gradual climb through Saguaro National Park stopping briefly for a photo op and continued through Tucson Mountain Park managing to finish the first 100K in just over five hours—pretty good considering the conditions.

Saguaro National Park

Rolling througn Tucson Mtn Park

For the checkpoint In Tucson, we had to decide between a quick convenience store stop and a bit longer stop at McDonalds for something more like real food. Burgers and salty fries had helped Irene and me through the last 150K of the Cascade 1200 so we agreed that a stop at McDonalds was probably wise. Even without tarrying, we rolled out of the checkpoint with the same 1:20 we’d had at Marana. It was going to be a long day.

As we rolled south on Mission Road, we were fighting a strong, gusty headwind and an uphill grade. We had to work very hard to keep a pace close to the 9-10mph needed just to stay even with the clock. The wind was so strong that if one stopped pedaling to coast, the bike immediately lost momentum. As we slogged along, I thought to myself how stupid randonneuring is. 

At the end of Mission Road, we turned east and soon had a nice long descent into Green Valley. After the long push against the headwind we were glad for a chance to rest our weary legs. We would soon be at the fourth checkpoint where we would refuel for the 30 mile push to Arivaca. As we rested there, we could see a flag snapping in the strong wind—a visual reminder of what we’d been fighting all day and would continue to struggle against for the next 30 miles.

Rick & Irene - Green Valley

We made it to the Arivaca control at about 6:20 (1:19 to spare). Having ridden as hard as we could from Marana, we had not even broken even on minimum brevet pace. This was a manned control and we found a variety of food to keep us going. We ate; changed our batteries; changed into warmer clothes and put on our night gear.We were over half done, but still had a long way to go. Fortunately, the tailwind seemed to be holding. 

Just after we rolled out of the control I had a panic attack that my rain pants were in the drop bag. I apologized to Rick and Irene for the unexpected delay and returned to the checkpoint. I was wrong—my pants were in my front bag all the time. While Rick and Irene waited, a driver stopped and asked if they were all right and warned them to be careful—the road ahead was a favorite of drug runners and human traffickers. As he said, “things happen on that road.” We took heed, but having no choice pressed ahead. 

Arivaca-Sasabe Road is a series of short rollers and numerous potholes which are a challenge to avoid in the dark. The wind was crossing, but slightly in our favor so we made the 12 miles from the control to the intersection with AZ-286 in pretty good time. The sky was clear, the tailwind was holding and we knew there were only a few short climbs remaining in the ride. We proceeded with a sense of optimism cruising along at 21-24mph without effort. However, I noticed Rick was not quite keeping up with us. With 10 miles left until Robles Junction where we hoped to resupply, I encouraged him to take an energy gel to tide him over until we got there. 

We arrived at Robles Junction to find the stores closed, but fortunately Mike had stopped there to ensure all the riders were accounted for to that point. Rick decided he could not continue and was lucky that Mike had room for him and his bike. I was disappointed for him, but was grateful to be spared the potential of making the painful choice between a personal DNF and leaving him should he get in trouble later in the ride. I thanked him for this later when we were both back at the hotel. Irene and I continued on with the hope there would be a store open in Picture Rocks. 

With the tailwind, the last climb through Saguaro National Park didn’t seem very hard. When we arrived at Picture Rocks there was a store open so we stopped. Against the stereotype, I often find stores manned with charming and interesting people; and when one walks into store wearing biking attire late at night, it usually generates questions. Tonight was no exception and we chatted about the ride with the clerk while we warmed up and consumed our purchases.  

Having made the stop at Picture Rocks, we decided we could get by with just a coffee to document our passage through the Marana checkpoint. We were preparing to leave just as the group of young riders who had been behind us all day rolled up. 

Although it was getting colder, the tailwind was holding. Irene and I were optimistic we could complete the ride around 4:00am (23 hours). After about 10 miles, Irene was the first to notice a drop of rain. It soon became clear we would be dealing with more than just a shower, and the wind was beginning to turn against us. I decided it would be wise to go ahead and put on my rain gear. By the time we were ready to continue, the rain was coming down hard and the wind was blowing it sideways into us from the left. I cursed myself for not bringing my lobster mitts and questioned why I voluntarily participate in such a stupid sport. We had a little over 50K to go and it was NOT going to be easy. 

Since we were riding a slight downhill grade, the wind, the cold or the rain alone would have been tolerable. The combination was miserable; and any hope we had of finishing by 4:00 was long gone. We were now focused on just finishing any time within the 27 hour limit. We slogged along with cold rain stinging our faces. We both suffered from numb, cold fingers and fatigue.  

When we got to Eloy, Irene’s headlight batteries failed. She was prepared with spares, but doubted her ability to change them with her chilled, clumsy fingers. Fortunately, between the two of us we managed to do it. After the ordeal changing Irene’s batteries, I knew I would be in real trouble if I had to change a flat. I put the thought out of my mind and just focused on the 16 miles left to ride. 

As we made the final approach of Casa Grande, the rain finally began to let up but the damage was already done. We were wet, cold and miserable. When we finished at 5:24 after 24hr 24min on the road, I wanted to kiss the ground but a congratulatory hug from Irene was enough. I could barely fill out my card, and Irene’s hands were so numb I had to do hers, too. Memory of the pain we endured to reach the finish quickly began to fade as it was replaced with a sense of accomplishment for having completed a very tough ride. 

This edition of the Arivaca 400 experienced the kind of conditions that test us to the limit and bring out the best qualities of randonneurs. We go rain or shine, wind or calm, hot or cold. We are required to be prepared to rely only upon our own resourcefulness or help from fellow riders between controls. Sometimes we have to decide when it isn’t safe or doesn’t make sense to continue (as 13 did on this ride). We value camaraderie, self-reliance, determination and tenacity above all. There are times we have to tough it out alone and times we are lucky to share the experience with riders who, like Irene on this ride, epitomize the spirit of randonneuring. This ethos is what makes randonneuring special. It is why I love this ‘stupid’ sport and am proud to be a randonneur.  

Thanks to the organizers and especially to our ‘Sherpa’ Mike Sturgill for an epic event!