The Rest of My Life

She Climbs Like an Angel!

2010-06-13T17:59:00.000-07:00

Today I joined a social ride with a local group. I needed an easy ride since yesterday I did a somewhat more ambitious ride in the San Gabriel Mountains, above Los Angeles, with a friend. We cycled up Glendora Mountain Road (the cogniscenti shorten it to GMR) about 2500', to the saddle where Glendora Ridge Road continues along the ridge to Mt Baldy canyon, the next canyon to the east. It's a great out-and-back ride of 50 miles and 5000' of climbing. The return is very satisfying. You hardly have to touch your brakes on the return, and the swooping descent lets you imagine, if only for awhile, that life is as easy and thrilling as this downhill ride.

But this day (yesterday, Saturday) we had something else in mind. We rode north from the saddle, down to the other end of GMR, where it T's into East Fork Rd (east fork of the San Gabriel River), then rode downstream to Hwy 39, then up Hwy 39 to the top at Hwy 2 (Angeles Crest Hwy). Descending GMR brought us down to about 2000' elevation, when we started climbing again. The top of Hwy 39 is about 6600', so we had plenty of climbing ahead of us.

It's a wonderful ride, one reason being that the road is closed to motorized vehicles beginning at about 3000' elevation. The road is blocked because there's considerable road damage that has gone unrepaired. There are several places where part of the road has fallen away, and one where the asphalt is gone completely. On this short portion of the road, have to ride (or walk) on hardpack dirt. It was cold and foggy at the bottom, but we eventually climbed out of the fog at about 5000'. Above this point, we looked down onto the LA basin and the vast sea of clouds covering the valley below. It was a grand day, and by the end I had 88 miles and almost 10,000' of climbing.

After this rather ambitious Saturday, I wanted an easier Sunday, so this morning I did a more social ride with a local group. At the start there were about 10 of us. After a short while there were just 4 of us riding together at the front. One was a youngish female with a very slight build, with very narrow hips; not short; probably 5'5" or so. But she can't have weighed more than about 105 pounds, perhaps not more than 100. With her very slim stature, she was a great climber.

After an easy glide down Laguna Canyon Road, we turned north along Pacific Coast Hwy (PCH, to the locals), which has a series of rollers as you head northward. As we rode up one of these rollers, she and I rode ahead of the other two riders who had more weight to carry up the hills. I mentioned to her that the others must just hate her (in a good way, as in "envy" her), as they saw her rolling past them on the climbs. Of course, I said this to encourage her, and compliment her wonderful climbing ability. They overtook us on the ensuing descent, then on the climb up the next PCH roller, as we approached them from behind, I said quietly to her, "OK, now roll past them ... this is your time to shine." After I said this, and as she did roll past them, I thought to myself that I might have added: "... and make it look easy!"

But I needn't have added that last part, because making it look easy came naturally to her. She cycled past them without the least hint of any strain or that she had to exert herself at all. Her posture was the same as when she was riding easily on the flats, in our paseline. And as I watched her glide past the others, it occurred to me that I was the one (not those other riders) that looked at her with envy, amazed at how easy she made the climbing look!

More Death ...Troy Passes, Way Too Early

2010-05-29T18:15:00.000-07:00

There was another death recently. He was a bicycling friend. Most of the friends I see on a regular basis are cycling friends. When I first heard about the death, I supposed it was as a result of a bike accident. I later heard it was an "accident at home". I was curious how the death occurred: fell from a ladder, and hit his head? electrocuted? I suppose we justify our curiousity with the lie that we want to learn what mistakes not to make. Would the death be more tragic, or the loss more severe, if it was the result of a inattentive automobile driver crashing into the bicyclist-victim?

In the end, the important part is that we, who are left behind, have lost a part of ourselves. Troy was an especially lively person, the one who organized a new ride that everyone then found to be one of their favorites. When we descended from the wonderful climb up Mt Laguna that he put together, it was a party. We hooted and hollered, and screamed down from the top. I remember he had just got a new video camera that he had mounted on his handlebars to record the descent. He was the one who had the latest and coolest gadget. And he was always so proud of having got a great deal on it.

The church was filled with his friends and acquaintances, and especially with those who were friends and acquantances of Troy's family and closest friends.

He had recently returned from a cycling trip with two of his closest friends. They climbed the fabled Mt. Ventoux from each of its 3 directions this day ...

Several weeks aftet the memorial service, I ran across some UCC Cyclery teammates of Troy and I learned how Troy died. He had been shooting a classic shotgun, I think one that had belonged to his grandfather, and a shell got lodged in the chamber. He took the gun home and later was trying to dislodge the shell, when the gun went off and hit him in the chest. God, what a waste! RIP, Troy.

Tour of California, 2010, Stage 8 Anti-Doping Control

2010-05-22T22:16:00.000-07:00

A close friend was in charge of volunteers for stage 7 of the 2010 Tour of California, a time trial stage. I volunteered and was assigned to be a chaperone for one of the racers who had to undergo testing for doping. I had no idea what was involved; didn't even know what a "chaperone" did. However, the experience gave me some insight of the inner workings of professional racing, and I thought I'd share the experience here.

We were told to meet at 1:00, at the same time as the time trial was to begin. We met at a back corner of the parking lot where the team vehicles were parked. A spanish fellow explained the protocol to us. There were four of us who would be chaperones for the riders to be tested. Two of those to be tested had been selected at random, with he other two being the stage winner and the GC leader, who would not be known until the completion of the race. I was selected to be a chaperone for one of the randomly selected racers, Francesco Bellotti of Liquigas.

Each of us was given a Amgen staff badge to hang round our neck marked "Anti-Doping Chaperone", a pullover top marked "Chaperone" and a clipboard with a sheet for the details of the person to be tested. For the two of us assigned to the randomly selected racers, our sheets had the name of the rider, and we were required to keep it secret until the person finished the race. Also, we were required to make sure the person started the time trial, because if he didn't, another rider would have to be selected. Once the person started, we were to make our way to the finish, and wait for the person to cross the finish line. Then we were to identify ourselves, and tell the person that he had been identified for anti-doping control. We were to write down the time that we identified ourselves to the person, adding 30 minutes, because each identified racer had 30 minutes to show up at the doping control station, an RV. In addition, the racer had to sign his name to acknowledge the time limit, among other things.

Before Bellottii started, I went by his team warm-up area to watch him to make sure I could later identify him easily. Of course, I did this discreetly, making sure he didn't suspect he was a racer who had been selected for testing. Afterwards I watched him start, then made my way to the finish area. I found a good place to find him at the end and waited for him to arrive. It was a spot where the racers had to stop and go up over a curb before making their way back to the team area. When Bellotti got to the curb, I identified myself and had him sign the form after writing down the time plus 30 minutes.

He was very pleasant, and said he would follow me. Part of the protocol was that I was not to let him out of my sight. He asked to be able to first go to his team RV to change and relax a minute, and I accompanied him inside while he toweled off and got out of some of his cycling clothes. I offered him some water that I had been given for the purpose, and he drank one bottle. When we got to the testing RV, the official in charge spoke with him to find out what language they should use. I believe she was Scandinavian, and her english was very good, but Bellotti's english was not as good, and after a bit of trial and error, they settled on french. After agreeing on the language, he showed his racing license, as is required, and went into the RV to undergo the testing. I was supposed to wait outside until the testing was over. We were told earlier that it was only a urine test, so I was surprised when it took a very long time before he came out, perhaps more than 20 minutes. I didn't ask why the testing took so long. I thanked him, and he was very gracious, not appearing at all inconvenienced by the testing. My responsibilities over, I then returned to the rest of my day.

Mt Whitney Stage Race, May 2010

2010-05-22T20:00:00.000-07:00

I haven't posted for some time. More about that later. For the present, let me try to describe the wonderful Mt. Whitney Stage Race. I heard about it from Jim Morehouse, the terrific climber from Las Vegas, who, like me, races for Paramount. I saw him at the Paramount Masters Crit and he asked me if I was planning to do the Mt. Whitney Stage Race. I said I didn't yet know anything about it, but later checked out the website, and found out it was scheduleld for May 15-16 and put on by Steve Barnes, who is the one who also puts on the Everest Challenge.

I have some personal history with the Everest Challenge. In about 2000, I met Tom Reid on some of the California Triple Crown double centuries. At the time we climbed at about the same pace (he's now a much stronger climber than I ... he's much younger than I am), and I found myself climbing with him on one occasion. As we climbed together, I found out he lived in Bishop was also a skier, and enjoyed backcountry skiing, as do I. Later, perhaps the next year, I saw him at the end of the Eastern Sierra Double Century where he had left out some fliers on a table with the title "Mt Everest Challenge". The fliers described a ride he had dreamed about: a series of climbs in the eastern Sierras that had elevation gain that totalled the height of Mt Everest. His idea at the time was to do the entire collection in a day, and he had set a particular date for it. By coincidence the distance travelled was also about 200 miles, an appropriate distance for a double century. I picked up a flier, but didn't seriously consider doing the ride. climbing had always been my weakness. The maximum amount of climbing I had done in a day was the Devil Mountain Double out of San Ramon, which totalled about 18,000', and that had been more than enough for me.

The next time I saw Tom, it was more than a year after the date he had set for the original Everest Challenge, and I asked him what happened on that first day. He told me that no one had signed up and no on showed up, but he decided to try it anyway. He started from Bishop at 3 am and rode to the top of Rock Creek, the first climb in the series.  It was still in the 30's when he descended, and he was so cold that he called his wife to pick him up, so the very first Everest Challenge ended in a DNF. After that he had the idea of doing the climbs as a 2 day event, making things much more manageable. I'm guessing that it was the second year before it became a USAC stage race.

In two consecutive years, I did the race on tandem with Anny Beck, a terrific climber and, at 100 pounds dripping wet, a blessing for a tandem captain. Both years it was ungodly hot, especially at the bottom of the third climb each day. The last climb of each day was so long I thought it would never end. Also, I got badly dehydrated and had to stop and beg water from passing cars. But we finished , albeit dead last on both occasions. I think Tom kept the course open as a favor, so that we could finish. The good news is that Tom gave each of us a championship EC jersey, as first place in the tandem category. The second year there was another tandem that attempted the climb, a male-male pair, but they DNF'd. In later years, Anny did the race twice on her single, but I haven't attempted it solo, at least not yet.

In any case, when I saw the plan for the Mt Whitney stage race, I was intrigued, because both stages are wonderful climbs. The eastern Sierras has what have to be some of the best climbs in the world. With the clear desert air, and the lack of forests on the terrain, the vistas are unparalleled.  Also, Steve had established a Masters 65+ age category, and I had just turned 65. Yes, I'm a card-carrying geezer now. Just ask and I'll show you my Medicare card!

Originally the ride was planned to begin in Furnace Creek and climb Townes Pass, similar to the old Death Valley to Whitney Road Rrace, which I never attempted. I've climbed Townes from the west a number of time as part of the Furnace Creek 508, so the pull of doing the pass from the east also attracted me. But due to some new Park Service rules for Death Valley events (dedicated EMTs and ambulance available the entire time!), Steve changed the stage to Horseshoe Meadows, the huge set of switchbacks carved out of the eastern face of the southern Sierras that stares at you as travel south out of Lone Pine.

Saturday's stage climbed Whitney Portal, and a 10:00 am start allowed everyone a leisurely morning. There were about 90 racers in all categories. As I looked over the group of cyclists preparing for the race, I thought to myself: "Golly, these are some seriously thin dudes. I'm really out of my league!" I hardly saw anyone with any bulk at all.

The 55s, 60s and 65s, numbering 10 in total, raced together, but were scored separately. The pace began pretty easily, but when we arrived at the first climb up Tuttle Creek Road, I was struggled to stay in touch at the back of our group. Finally I resigned to climb at my own pace and began to drop back. But as I did so, I realized we were almost at an intermediate top, and I pushed to see if I could keep in contact. By sheer luck, it was an intermediate summit, and I managed to hang on to the group as they descended. We the turned down Lubkin Canyon Road and toboganned down the single lane road. At the bottom, we did a U-turn and began climbing the same canyon road. On the descent I had decided that I would climb at my own speed when this climb began. And it wasn't very long before all in our group had passed me. It was about 11:00 am by the time we began this climb, and it was noticably hot. I figured it wouldn't be too long before we would gain enough elevation to begin feeling some cooling effect. Also, there was a strong cooling tailwind as we climbed toward Whitney Portal.

The climb approaching the first switchback, and then the lower portion of the first switchback is the steepest, over 16% best as I could tell. With my compact crank and 11-28 cassette, I was barely able to keep my wheels turning. I certainly wouldn't have wanted any less in the way of low gears. The road stayed very steep for the first half of the climb, then tipped down to a more manageable level, say 10% or so.  The gradient stayed about that steep until we approached the portal area itself, where is was only 5% or so. When I finally crossed the finish line, I had been riding about 2:28. I was the last finisher of our group of 55 and older racers.

Steve Barnes, the race director, arranged a fine picnic that afternoon and evening at a ranch at the base of Horseshoe Meadows Road.  The ranch had a breathtaking view of the the valley floor, about 2000' feet below. I visited with several people and commiserated over the sorry state of the driving public's consideration for cyclists. There was also some agreement that the increased number of bicycling commuters should eventually help turn the tide of public opinion.

Sunday's beginning was much more relaxed than that of Saturday, there being no registration needed. The pace at the beginiing was somewhat faster, and a couple of cyclists in our group fell off the back. A bit later, and before the first top, I also fell off the back. By the time I neared to top, the other two had caught up with me, and we figured we could help each other on the flat before the big climb. At first I thought I'd only be able to stay at the back of the three of us, but as I recovered from the climb I found I was able to take as long a pull as the others. We then had a U-turn and retraced our steps approaching the climb. When we first started up, I stayed at the back awhile, but after recovering I was able to continue taking regular pulls. There was a pretty stiff quartering headwind and even though we were climbing, we echeloned across the road, making good progress up the approach to the beginning of the real climb.

When you drive south from Lone Pine, you see a series of 4 or 5 huge cuts into the eastern side of the Sierras, going up toward the top as far as you can see. These switchbacks are part of the climb up to Horseshoe Meadows that we were then approaching.   The first switchback begins after the Horseshoe Meadows ranch where we had the picknic on Saturday afternoon. I continued climbing with my 2 partners. They were Bob Dahlgren, who eventually finished first in 65+ and Mike Crystal, racing 55+.  The climb was very exposed to the southerly headwind, and working together really helped, making the miles go by much more easily. Someplace towards the top of the first switchback we caught up with Bob Llamas, the other 65+ racer. He had been riding by himself in the wind for a long time, and was pretty beat. After we caught him, he jumped on the back of our group, but before long I saw he wasn't able to stay with us, and dropped off the back. We continued together until about the middle of the 4th switchback, when Mike slowed a bit, and I filled the gap. After awhile Mike had to drop off the back, and a bit later still I had to let Bob go ahead. Each of us was now climbing at his own pace.

Eventually I arrived at Walt's point, where a plaque to an early flier of hang gliders is mounted in a bolder. This is where hang gliding enthusiats jump off to glide to the valley floor, 6000 feet below. There was one longish climb after that, then a descent of about 300-400 feet, followed by the final climb to the top. Before the summit preceeding the descent, a volunteer offered me a bottle. I figured I was close enough to the finish that I could do without the water, and I declined it. What a poor judgement on my part!.

Shortly after this intermediate top, I drank the last of my water, and cramps began to threaten. After the descent, as I began the final climb to the finish, I had to unclip and shake out my leg while pedalling with my other leg. I had to let the one leg dangle, as I shook it out to try to calm the cramping. Will I nver learn? Around the 1 mile to go mark, I looked at the right side of the road and saw a water bottle on the ground. I stopped and picked it up and found it was half full of water. I drank it right away, then resumed the climb to the finish. I had to go easy until the finish because when I tried to push, the cramps would return. I finally crossed the finish to the cheers of the earlier finishers. What a relief to have finished! It turned out that I picked up enough time on this day's stage to come in 2nd in my age group. By some mixup, the race director put me first and Bob Dahlgren second. I emailed him about the mistake, but as of 1 week later, he still hadn't corrected the published results. I know he's been having trouble with his website, and he'll eventually correct things.

Henry's

2010-01-26T20:23:00.000-08:00

(Diary Entry January, 2010)

Henry Block, Tom McCray, Bill Ryder, and I were in Peace Corps in the early 60’s in the outer islands of Micronesia. They were in Truk District, now called Chuuk. I was in the Marshalls. Henry and Tom were island mates (Peace Corps volunteers on the same island). The four of us shared similar experiences of living on very small atolls with very small populations of locals, about 65 individuals in my case, up to 250 in the case of Bill and Henry. Those shared experiences provided a bond for us and have helped keep us together over the years.

Since the late 70’s, some combination of the four of us has gotten together each winter for 2 or more weeks to ski and relax. Henry died from natural causes 2 years ago, so now there are 3 of us. A couple others have joined us for shorter periods in the last few years (Tom’s brother, Rob, and our good friend and ski-mentor, Fred Torrence, who we met in Teton Valley, ID in the 80’s). The point is that we’ve kept in touch with each other over the years, and have gone out of our way to make these winter get-aways happen. They comprise a highly valued anchor for my life and this is one of the times of the year I most look forward to.

This year’s trip began last weekend when Bill arrived from Hawaii, where he spends late fall and early winter. The 2 of us drove from my house in Irvine to the place we’ve stayed in recent years. We have one of two apartments that Ted and Shana Kasper built over their garage to supplement their income. The place is small, but just right for us, with a living room/kitchen, bedroom, and bath. We rent it for a month, and it’s very reasonable. The cost of these excursions is minimal since we do our own cooking, and don’t have to buy expensive lift-tickets to ski at the resort, preferring to ski backcountry where we earn our turns, by ski-hiking to the top under our own power.

Backcountry skiing is like chairlift-serviced skiing, except we ski-hike to the top of our ski destination rather than riding up in a chairlift. It’s not unlike bicycling, where you spend a long time riding up a long ascent, then enjoy a short, often thrilling, ride down from the top. Modern backcountry skiing gear allows the heel to lift up from the ski's surface when climbing (with alpine gear, the heel is fixed to the surface, preventing raising the heel to go uphill), and climbing skins (synthetic fabric that adheres to ski bottoms with fibers that extend backwards along the ski, preventing the ski from slipping when pointing uphill) allow you to climb uphill. But it’s not ski-gear, or the skiing experiences, wonderful though they may be, that I want to talk about. It’s friendship.

What’s the value of a friend? It’s the value of life itself. Without the close contacts of friends and family to share with and confide in, life hardly has any meaning at all. Take today: this morning a friend we’ve known here in the valley, Glenn Vitucci, called in response to an earlier call of Tom to him, asking if we could get together for a visit, or a ski. Glenn returned the call this morning, and we arranged to meet him at one of our favorite backcountry ski locations.

We skied at a place we call Henry’s. It had snowed about 2 feet over the last several days, and the snow was heavy and almost too deep to ski. We did our best, and after several runs, headed back to the trail-head about 4:00 pm. On the way back we stopped at our favorite pub for a basket (of French fries) and a pitcher (of Sweetgrass IPA Beer). We talked about the day, and about the prospects for skiing over in the upcoming days. We also shared news about mutual friends. One of whom was Heny, who isn’t with us any longer. By the way, we call the place we skied today “Henry’s”, because it was one of his favorite places to ski.

Henry never gained the level of fitness of the rest of us, and always carried a considerable amount of weight. I’d guess his weight fluctuated between 180 and 200 pounds. Being large makes gravity sports, like ski-climbing, more difficult. It’s never as easy for a 185 pound person to work against gravity as it is for someone lighter. Fred (damn him!) weighs in at not more than 125 pounds, dripping wet. And he can climb like a mountain goat. None of us can keep up with him if he wants to get to the top of the hill.

Henry’s is the lower portion of a backcountry ski area called Lone Pine, named for the single tree (actually a very small group of trees) toward the top of the open ski slope. By the time Henry got to the lower portion of this area, he had exhausted his strengths, and didn’t want to go any further. He would ski there, even when the conditions weren’t great. Because he always wanted to stop there, we named the spot “Henry’s”.

Henry was a bigger-than-life kind of guy. He went out of his way to make everyone comfortable. He was the eighth of a family of 10 children (Henry, the eighth), mostly males. Growing up in a large family like that, he learned to get his share and have his voice heard, while still protecting his siblings. He started a men’s support group at one point, and kept it active for years. His wife (second wife) was a counselor and Henry soon learned that the informal support structures that women develop are frequently lacking for men. Men grow up competing with each other, and often don’t know how to ask for help and offer it to others. So Henry jumped in the fill the gap.

Henry was something of an iconoclast. One of my memories of him is one winter, about 1999, when driving through Jackson Hole on one of our excursions. Likely, we were on our way to the Visitor’s Center at Grand Teton National Park. We stopped in Jackson; perhaps to enjoy the wonderful sourdough pancakes at Jedediah’s Restaurant, named for Jedediah Smith, one of the wilderness pioneers of the Jackson Hole area. On the way, a hat made from a badger skin caught Henry’s eye. After admiring his image in the mirror with the hat, he looked at the pricey $175 tag, and returned it to the shelf. But on the way back through town after having completed our excursion, he bought the hat. He said he couldn’t resist getting it, partly because it was so politically incorrect. Here’s a photo of the four of us: Bill, Tom, Henry wearing his badger hat, and me.

A Gray Day at Dachau (1964)

2009-12-30T22:08:00.000-08:00

I took a year off from school after my sophomore year at UC Santa Barbara to travel in Europe. Planned studies in the fall at the beginning of this period (Goethe Institute in a small village south of Munich) and at the end in the late spring-early summer (University of Goettingen) served as bookends for 6 months of intentionally unplanned travel. The travel began in Munich in late fall. Gowing up in southern California spoiled me for weather. I hardly knew what it was like to have your breath visible in the cold air. I sure had some lessons to learn about the real world, and the fact that in the winter things get very cold many places was the least of my world lessons.

I stayed mostly at youth hostels during this unplanned travel time. One of the best things about staying in youth hostels is the local color you can get from other travelers. One evening I asked what I shouldn’t miss when in Munich. More than one fellow traveler told me to make sure I visited Dachau, which was not far to the north. The next morning I made my way to the Autobahn and hitchhiked north towards the infamous destination. Drivers who picked me up would ask where I was going. When I replied “Dachau”, the response was uniform; the conversation quieted to silence. In retrospect, the response shifted from awkward embarrassment to naked shame.

I had to walk the last 2 or 3 kilometers to the entrance, as it was far away from any settlement. There was no commerce or residence in the area. The day was very gray, and it was as if the whole countryside was sterile. As I approached, there was a very long border of high wire fence. Walking through the entrance I found no one in attendance. I moved in turn through all the buildings and the displays. I never found a soul the entire day, at least none that were living. The dead were extremely prominent. I recollect photos of bones covered by skin, of “scientific” experimentation by hypothermia, of long, unheated wooden buildings (still standing at the time) where the inmates slept and became infected with lice and typhus.

It wasn’t the crematoriums that impressed me. What hit me hard was the fact that the crematoriums turned out to be far too slow at processing bodies, so they were largely abandoned, in favor of firing squads and tossing bodies in large pits dug by bulldozer. Although plentiful, I'm not including any photos of this, because the images are ones that I don't want in our minds more than they already are.

My other memory was the undeniable stench of rotting flesh. I know it can’t have been actual odor because this was 20 years after the war, but the smell in my nostrils was nonetheless visceral.

My Daughter, the Naturalist

2009-12-28T22:49:00.000-08:00

My son and daughter grew up with their Mom in Davis, California. I haven’t been able to live with them closely since they were very young. While being away from them has been very difficult for me, they are now grown and we sometimes now have wonderful times together.

My daughter graduated from UC Santa Cruz last June, and she decided to stay with me while applying for grad school and work. She wanted to take a year off before continuing with school. Unfortunately she made that decision well before the economy went to hell, and she hasn’t had the job opportunities that she hoped for. She has always been fascinated with the natural world, and wants to do field research on marine mammals. Due to a great deal of effort and persistence, she recently managed to land a four month internship in Gloucester, Massachusetts studying humpback whales starting in February.
She and I decided to take some vacation time this fall. We followed a fantastic clockwise loop through many of the national parks in the Four Corners area. I won’t attempt to do a full narrative, but here are some highlights, along with a few photos to illustrate the wonder of these places, and some of the wildlife we saw there.
Zion – This was our first stop. We hiked Angel’s Landing. If you haven’t had the pleasure, try not to miss it. It’s a wonderful climb, especially for novice hikers. We both qualify by that measure. It’s promontory pinnacle that juts out into Zion Canyon. You have to climb up a knife ridge, but there are ample manmade handholds to help in climbing.

Bryce – After leaving Zion, on the way to Bryce, we came upon some Big Horn Sheep crossing the road. Only time I’ve seen them in the wild. Bryce is amazing. Richly sculpted landforms in reds, yellows, and browns that just don’t stop.

Capitol Reef – We climbed the Golden Throne, an area that doesn’t get many visitors. Beautiful vistas, some small, like this circular patterned lichen beside the trail.

Arches – We got seriously dumped on one night. I thought we were going to get washed away in our tent, but it kept us dry. The next morning, waiting to hike the Devil’s Kitchen, a bolt of lightening came within a few hundred yards – no delay at all between the light and the crack of the sound. While we were here and in Moab, we read to each other from Ed Abbey’s books, especially Desert Solitaire.

Fisher Towers – After having hiked many of the Arches best areas, a ranger suggested we hike out of the Park. Fisher Towers is southeast of the Colorado and east of Moab. It’s an area that’s as spectacular as Arches, but hardly travelled. We took this photo with a self-timer by setting the camera on the tip of the overlook. I stepped past it very gingerly to lie down beside Danielle, because the drop was several hundred feet straight down.

Mesa Verde – We visited these cliff dwellings, but some of the best times we had there were hiking the snake trail where we spied a pair of falcons (prairie falcons, we suspect) at the top of a sheer cliff.

Natural Bridges – Like many of the vistas in the national parks area, you can drive very close to the 3 huge natural bridges and get a great view of these bridges. There’s another way to see them, however, by an 8 mile loop hike in the bottom of the creek bed that has formed the bridges. This was the way we enjoyed the bridges, and the effort it takes to get to them makes the views that much more satisfying. Also, because they can be seen by car, few enjoy this hike, which means you have the place to yourselves. It had rained the night before, and there was only one hiker ahead of us (we were the last for the day, just extricating ourselves from the canyon as night fell; now that was a close call!). Well, there was one other traveler on the creek-side trail that we followed for about 3 miles: a good sized cougar! We never saw the animal, but it saw and heard us, because it was only a short while ahead of us, and the canyon was narrow, with only one trail through it.

Grand Canyon North Rim – This was our last National Park that we visited. It’s vastly more enjoyable than the South Rim, but both have a very large number of visitors. Being high on the North Rim, you can look down on the hawks and vultures, some soaring below you; some resting on rocky prominences below. I visited South Rim a couple years ago, and my main recollection there was the huge number of tour buses. Give me the North Rim!

Bike Stories - Me 'n Lance (2002)

2009-12-26T20:12:00.000-08:00

In 2002, I had a business meeting in Austin , Texas in mid-April. I decided to travel early, the weekend before, to visit a friend, Chris Williams, who lived in Austin. Thinking I would try to get a bicycle ride in, I borrowed another friend's Bike Friday to carry with me on the airplane. A Bike Friday is a small-wheel travel bike that fits in a suitcase and can be carried on a plane, generally at little expense.

I also looked on the Internet for Austin cycling clubs, and when I looked at the Austin Bike Club's ride schedule for Sunday, April 14, it said "no rides scheduled ... supporting Lance Armstrong's Ride for the Roses." What luck! I went to the link that was displayed on the bike club’s website, and signed up for the ride. I registered for the 100 mile ride. There are shorter distances as well, but being a distance rider I opted for the longest one shown.

I arrived Saturday and had a wonderful supper with Chris. We took plenty of time to reminisce. Chris and I shared two years in the Peace Corps in the late 60’s, teaching English as a second language in the Marshall Islands, a group of atolls in the middle of the Pacific.

Sunday morning Chris drove me to the starting location. When he dropped me off, he took the photo shown above. It turned out I was almost too late. But, by blind luck, this worked to my advantage. At the ride start I looked across the huge staging area where the riders were assembling for the start, and I saw several huge groups of cyclists waiting for their turn to begin the ride.

As I was puzzling over where I was supposed to assemble, I heard an emcee announcing the ride start. I could hear him exchanging quips with, of all people, Robin Williams. I knew he was a cyclist and friend of Lance, but I didn’t know he was expected to ride that day. As I looked across the thousands of people, I saw an area with a large banner above it, and a cadre of photographers with cameras raised high. I had brought a camera in my jersey pocket, so I made my way to where the commotion was and ... Egad! ... There was Lance, and next to him, Robin Williams, Eric Heiden, and Davis Phinney! There was just enough time to grab a couple of quick photos with my camera before the announcer blew the horn for the start for the first group, the group with Lance, where I was standing. I jumped on my Bike Friday, and we rode out of the stadium.

We started through the western outskirts of Austin, heading further west. At first, we were on a well-traveled highway. I could see Lance farther forward in the group. I could tell it was him because of his US Postal Service cycling clothes and his rapid cadence, which stood out from that of the others. Leading the group was a stake-bed truck loaded with paparazzi taking pictures of the celebs in the front.

I was reluctant to go farther forward and snap a picture of Lance riding in the peloton for fear of making the congestion at the front worse than it already was. I thought there might be an opportunity later when the front pack thinned out. But when we got further out of town, the pace picked up to 25-30 mph and it was all I could do to stay with the group. Finally, at about mile 35, I had to drop from the front pack. I've never been a great climber, and having extended myself just trying to stay with the group on the flats, I was quickly dropped when we went over a small rise. But I'm happy I was able to stay with them as long as I did. I heard someone say that we averaged about 25 mph for those first 35 miles. When the next group came by (the fastest riders of the next group to start), I jumped in with them and continued at their fast pace. Later I heard someone say we did the first 60 miles in 2 1/2 hours.

Riding with one such group, I started talking with a female who was asking about the Bike Friday. I mentioned that I rode with the front group that included Lance for 35 miles. She replied "Oh, then you started with the VIP group!" That’s how I learned that the first group consisted of specially invited people, including those who had each raised at least $1000 for the Cancer Research Foundation. So that's why I said I was lucky to have come late, because I got to ride with the VIP group without even having to feel guilty about it. I didn’t know that I had crashed the party!

The weather was perfect. We had a cloud cover that kept us from heating up too much, and it even sprinkled a few drops of rain a couple times. I continued the pattern of riding with a fast group until I got dropped on a hill. I’d then wait for the next group coming through and jump in with them. And there were plenty of fast groups, so I had ample opportunity to ride in fast pelotons.

At about mile 80, after having exhausted myself trying to keep up with these fast groups, I was on the verge of cramping in my calves. I only stopped once before then, to get more liquid. I was drinking fairly dilute powdered Gatorade, with a small amount of powdered milk for protein. I also had a banana the one time when I stopped. On that occasion, I stretched a bit. When I resumed, it was at an easier pace, and I was able to recover quite a bit. There was a final rest stop at mile 92, where I got more liquid, some orange slices, and a few pretzels. That was enough to get me to the finish, with no more threat of cramping.

When we arrived at the finish, I found out that we rode the 100 miles in about 4.75 hours! It was the draft from the fast riders that enabled such a fast time for me. At the finish, there was a wonderful music group playing old Beatles songs, especially Sergeant Pepper tunes. There was also free beer at the end, courtesy of a local micro-brewery. Chris finally picked my up, and after a long shower to clean up from the effects of the high humidity, I took a nap. Life was good that day!

“She Could Kill Herself There!”

2009-12-20T21:21:00.000-08:00

In my early 20’s I was a novice in a monastery in Santa Barbara. The religious tradition doesn’t matter; the story I will tell could have happened in any tradition.

I was one of two young men who staffed a small residence used by the church’s cleric when he visited on weekends. We also did other landscape and household maintenance for the church and for the convent across the street, which housed a small group of nuns.

One night an obviously mentally ill young woman showed up on the steps of the church. She had come to talk with the cleric. The nuns in charge (they were the first to come upon the young woman) told her that the cleric wouldn’t be there until the weekend, a few days away, and that she should come back. The young woman said she’d wait.

The woman was known to the church, and had come before in similar circumstances. The staff had contact information for her parents, but they lived over 100 miles away, and it was too late to arrange transportation for her to return to her parents’ home. The parents had to retrieve the young woman from situations similar to this on prior occasions.

One of the senior nuns said to me: “She can’t stay on the church steps. She could kill herself there.” The nuns told her that she could come back in the morning after staying in a motel overnight, one that they would arrange for her. I was called to drive her to the motel. She was reluctant to go, but the nuns convinced her to allow me to transport her to the motel.

I did as I was asked. This was my first occasion to be around someone who suffered so obviously from mentally illness. As I drove, she talked to herself, quietly at first, repeating various phrases over and over. Her self-talk got louder as the sound of the car speeding through the night got louder. I was able to get her to go to the motel, but she was not at all happy with the arrangement, and I felt uneasy in the situation.

As I fell asleep that night, I realized what had been bothering me, which was this: the nuns’ fear wasn’t that the young woman might take her life, but that she might do so on the church steps, with the unwelcome publicity that would bring.

The young woman didn’t take her life; at least not that night. I don’t know what happened to her, other than that they sent her to her parents house on a bus in the morning. I also found out that they never intended to let her see the cleric. That morning I packed my slim bag and left, and never looked back.

You could say I was inexperienced and overly idealistic. Of course, you’d be right. But just as I know the sun comes up in the east, I know that place was no place for me.

Life and Death, Part II

2009-12-19T18:21:00.000-08:00

Driving to Mt. Palomar this morning with my friend Chuck Chen, we talked of the recent deaths. Chuck also knows David Slaton, who was riding with Don Murphy when he was killed in the hit-and-run described in my last post. Without knowing exactly what was amiss, I expressed my uneasiness with many of those in attendance, including the family, saying that they knew they would soon be reunited with Don in the next world.

Now, I'm not one to challenge peoples beliefs if they help them make sense of the world. You can't argue with what works; "whatever gets you through the night". But the cavalier and glib reaction of some of those speaking about this death simply did not do justice to the present. My goodness, this is someone that was cut-down in the prme of his life. Passing it off as a temporary inconvenience (ok, I'm exaggerating, but you get the idea) seems to me to cheapen life, not honor it.

On a positive not, the riding and company today was terrific. It was Chuck Chen and myself, and two other riders: Mark Pavelka from San Diego county and Blake Barnett from Aliso Viejo. We did the South Grade of Mt. Palomar twice. We planned to climb up south grade, then down east, then up east and down south, but on the first climb up south grade there was a strong northerly wind blowing and it was especially windy around the ridges, so we figured it would be so windy on the east grade that we decided to repeat the climb on east grade rather than trying south. After the second climb up to the top, we rode to the viewpoint at the campground from where you have almost a 360 degree view: to the east and north, San Gregornio, San Jacinto, even Mt Baldy, and to the west and south and west, Catalina, Coronado Islands, and Mexico. Terrific day.

Above: Mark and Chuck

Above: Mark, Blake, Chuck, and Dan

Above: Dan and Mark

Life and Death

2009-12-18T20:13:00.000-08:00

Life and Death

What’s to say? I went to 2 memorial services in as many weeks.

Don Murphy - Today was for Don Murphy. I didn’t know Don, but a bunch of people did. There were about 1500 at the service. He left a wife and 2 almost grown daughters. He volunteered at a half-way house, working with recovering men, helping them get their GEDs, and otherwise doing what he could. He gave out 20 dollar bills to some of those at the half-way house to help them setup their first-ever checking accounts.

He was struck in a hit-and-run before dawn on Wednesday of last week while he was out riding his bike with 2 of his best friends. His friends gave him CPR while the car sped away. The driver was later found and has been charged. Unlike the man who killed Armas last June, she wasn’t drunk She was apparently just not paying attention … but how could she just drive away after he bounced off the hood into her windshield, shattering it? She dragged his bike under her car for a mile and a half before she stopped. She was later found (bike debris littered her path) and taken in custody.

My friend found a pulse as they continued CPR, but after the EMTs transported him to the Trauma Center there was no brainwave. His family donated his organs which were parceled out yesterday, saving several other lives in the process. But it’s such a waste … such a heart-breaker.

Joanne Penseyres – Joanne lost a very long battle with depression a few weeks ago, at 65 years of age. There was a memorial service for her last Saturday. She was life-partner with Pete Penseyres, legendary ultra-distance cyclist. She crewed for cross-country bike race teams something like 13 times, supporting the cyclists’ dreams. There were so many people that spoke of all the support they received from Joanne. But she didn’t save quite enough support for herself. She was also a very articulate poet. Here’s one she wrote “for all cyclists”:

Come Share Their Dreams

I’ve been there many times,
To care for the men who ride after their dreams,
Seen their foreheads glazed with perspiration,
Their faces taut with concentration,
Even pain.

To the public they’re crazy men, gone insane Over riding a bicycle,
But I know them better; I’ve been there.
They’re riding their dreams.

If you doubt me, come see them.
Look past the pain, the sweat, watch their eyes.
You’ll see the dreams coming true.
Come share their dreams,
And you may catch a dream or two.

Rod Armas – About 25 years ago Rod Armas bicycled the Grand Tour Double Century put on by the Los Angeles Wheelmen. This past June he wanted to introduce his 14 year old son the this great adventure, so he dusted off the helmet he used on that earlier occasion and started out with his son. I saw them in mid afternoon. I was sagging the ride, and they were the last riders on the course. We gave them some water and drove ahead to the lunch stop, where they arrived a bit later.

They were in good spirits, but the lunch stop was almost closed. We scraped up something for them to eat. I noticed that they didn’t have anyplace to keep their route slips, and I taped a metal binder to the handlebars on each of their bikes and put a fresh route slip in them. I didn’t see them any more that day, but Jim Watrous took the attached photo of them after they left that rest stop. I had to drive someone who had DNF’d to the end, and drove home after that, not seeing them again. You probably know the rest. They were hit by a drunk driver along PCH not far from the finish of the ride. Rod was killed; his son Chris had many broken bones, but survived.

What’s to say? Life is so precious and fragile. Don’t miss any opportunities to tell those close to you how much you love them, and how much they mean to you. No, don’t miss those opportunities ….

Joanne Penseyres Memorial Service, 2009

2009-12-12T15:06:00.000-08:00

Joanne Penseyres

(1943-2009)

Today I attended a memorial service for Joanne Penseyres. Several hundred family and friends were present. Some knew her from ultra cycling, some from her teaching at Bonsall Elementary School, some from her community affairs. A large number of people shared stories of their lives with her, and how deeply affected they were by her generous spirit, tireless enthusiasm, and dare-devil encouragement. You can read or post a memory by clicking on the title of this post.

She crewed for her husband Pete, and others, making Race Across America and other ultra cycling events possible for them. Among other accomplishments she wrote poetry; this “for all cyclists”:

Come Share Their Dream
by Joanne Penseyres

I’ve been there many times,
To care for the men who ride after their dreams,
Seen their foreheads glazed with perspiration,
Their faces taut with concentration,
Even pain.

To the public they’re crazy men, gone insane
Over riding a bicycle,
But I know them better; I’ve been there.
They’re riding their dreams.

If you doubt me, come see them.
Look past the pain, the sweat, watch their eyes.
You’ll see the dreams coming true.
Come share their dreams,
And you may catch a dream or two.

Bike Stories - Tony Almost Calls Home

2009-12-08T00:21:00.000-08:00

In the fall of 2007 I rode the Joshua Tree Double Century with one other rider, Tony Martinez, a terrific cyclist and home-builder from Cherry Valley, east of Redlands. The finish of the JT Double is very challenging because it ends with a 50 mile return at a 2%-3% gradient into a very stiff headwind. Both times I've done it, it’s also been very cool as the sun was setting in the desert. Anyhow, Tony and I had plenty of opportunity to visit as we rode the 13-14 hours it took us to finish this double. At the time, we both thought this was the first time we talked to each other.

I next saw Tony on the 2008 Mulholland Double Century, the next spring. I had experienced some challenges early on durng this double and lost time to some of the other riders. At about mile 160, the route turned up Decker Canyon, a 2500’ climb, the first half of which is steep, averaging 10% or so. Part way up, I passed Tony who was climbing a bit more slowly than I. As I approached him, I slowed and we visited for awhile, exchannging observations about the day’s ride. I then continued up Decker on my own. After a time I came upon a recumbent trike rider climbing very slowly. I was surprised to see that it was Peter Pop.

Peter is a terrific rider who had to back-off from his competitive riding when he developed some very bad back problems. He didn’t ride at all for several years, and then was only able to ride a trike. I slowed to visit with him and we talked for some time. I learned that he had come out on this climb to see if he saw any of his old double century riding buddies. He told me of a recent visit with a friend of ours, Hugh Murphy, who used to be the promoter for a large series of Southern California double centuries. Hugh had moved to Lone Pine (he now lives in Cartago) after selling the DC series to Planet Ultra. In any case, Peter and I visited for quite awhile as we climbed at Peter’s pace. Part-way through this visit, Tony rode past us, giving a greeting as he passed. Eventually, I rode on ahead, leaving Peter to his own climbing speed. When I later caught up with Tony toward the top of the climb, he called out to me, and told me this story.

Tony Tells His Story … he says: I just remembered when I first saw you … It was on last year’s Mulholland DC. I was at the bottom of the climb heading up Decker Canyon. I had stopped along the side of the road, leaning against a call box, about ready to call my girlfriend to pick me up. You rode past, looked at me, and shouted out: “What are you waiting there by that phone for? Are you going to call your mother to come pick you up?” When I saw you continue up the road I thought to myself: if that old guy can get up this climb, I can certainly do it. And I got back on my bike and finished the double.

After he told me this story, I recalled the incident from the prior year … and I had to laugh. My comment wasn’t intended to be malicious, just to tease him a bit to challenge him to continue … and it worked. Also, the curious thing is that neither he nor I recalled this initial contact with each other until a full year had passed, even though we rode the entire Joshua Tree Double together in the intervening period! Tony’s done many doubles since then, and finishes them without fail, and with good humor. Thanks, Tony, for this wonderful memory.

Furnace Creek 508 2009.doc

2009-10-19T21:59:00.001-07:00

2009 Furnace Creek 508 – 2X Team Sandhill Cranes

50+ Mph Winds Fail to Ground the Female Bird

At the RAAM parade start in 2007, Isabelle Drake said to me: “Dan, in 2009 you’ll be 64 and I’ll be 56. How about doing the Furnace Creek 508 as a 60+ Mixed 2-person relay team? We shook on it, and that’s how we got to the start this year. Isabelle is a wonderful ultra rider from Laguna Beach. For crew, we recruited Jim Cook, an ultra promoter and distance cyclist, and my daughter, Danielle, who recently graduated from UC Santa Cruz and who is now staying with me, to my great delight.

Santa Clarita to California City (Dan’s leg): The local police gave us a lead-out that included stopping the cross traffic all the way to the left turn on Francisquito Canyon. How fun for a start! As we turned up the canyon, a small group stayed together all the way to the beginning of the False Summit climb. It was cool, and the anticipation of the start kept me with the lead group until this point. After cresting over the real summit, and the descending down to Elizabeth Lake Road, I turned right on Johnson Road and dropped my empty bottle that I’d drained, picking up a new one from my daughter, before summiting over Johnson pass 7^th out of the 38 teams that began the race. I’d later pay for this exuberance, but in the meantime I was enjoying being toward the front. I flew down the descent to the high desert flats with a tailwind blowing me along. As I crossed the flats of the high desert, the wind began as a crosswind. I drank another bottle across the flats, then got a new one as I began the climb up the windmills. The wind turned to a headwind, as I climbed and it got increasingly strong as I approached the pass (there's a reason they place the windmills there).

After I crested, I dropped my empty bottle at the right turn to Oak Creek Road. Unfortunately, they didn’t have a replacement for me. Neither was the crew able to give me a bottle during the descent as I was flying at 40-45 mph or so. I finally got a bottle at the left-turn stop at the bottom of the descent, but it was too late. I was already starting to cramp. This is the third time it’s happened to me, at the same spot. You’d think I’d learn … Duh! While I unclipped one leg, then the other, allowing it to dangle, while I tried to shake it our, and peddle with the other leg, a number of riders passed me. By going easy, and drinking as much as possible, I managed to fend off the worst of these cramps, and never had to actually stop. But I lost several positions during this bit of cramping trouble. After a short wait for a passing train before Highway 58 (business), I turned left and eventually made it to California City and began my rest and recovery. This was the only time cramps threatened my riding.

California City to Trona (Isabelle’s leg): Isabelle took over and powered north. It’s very hard on the “B” rider, because there’s a huge amount of anticipation that builds up over the morning, but without any outlet. Now Isabelle had the chance to let out some of that energy and positively flew north. I tried to lay down and rest. She summited over Johannesberg (seemed to me after only a very few minutes), then turned north toward Trona. By this time the wind had changed to a tailwind, and she cruised along with ease at a very fast speed. She averaged over 20 mph for this leg. After the rollers, we drove forward to get ready for the next exchange.

Trona to Furnace Creek (Dan): I headed north while the crew put Isabelle’s bike on the top of the van. They then used the restrooms, before continuing north. In the meantime, I came upon another train crossing, and had to wait a couple minutes. After I rode a few miles north I felt a big bang as I pushed down with left leg and everything broke loose and something heavy hit the ground. I almost fell as a result, but luckily I was sitting at the time. I looked back, and found that my left crank-arm had come off completely, and was laying in the road behind me. I got off the bike, walked backwards and picked up the crank-arm. I realized almost immediately what had happened. A couple weeks earlier, I had replaced the bottom bracket bearings, which had failed. I had an FSA K-Force Light crank with ceramic bearings in the bottom bracket, and they had failed a few weeks before. I had ordered and installed a new set, but when I didn’t use locktite when installing the crank-arm. The original installation had been done with blue locktite, but it was very hard to get the crank-arm loose, and I thought that the locktite residue in the threads would be enough to hold things together on reassembly. Now, looking back to the crank laying on the road, I realized how wrong I was. I didn’t have tools to reassemble the crank, and stood there wondering what to do. Another rider, solo I think, came by and saw me in extremis, and tried to use a walkie-talkie to ask his crew to find my crew (both crews were still at Trona), and come forward to help. I needed an 8mm allen wrench to install the crank-arm. He wasn’t successful in getting the message through. I thanked him and told him to ride on, since my crew should be coming along before long. After waiting, to no avail, for several more minutes, I put the loose crank-arm in my jersey pocket, mounted my bike, and began riding one-legged. I figured some speed was better than none, and I had nothing better to do. It wasn’t too long before I saw my crew approaching. When they overtook me, I told them to go ahead and get my tools out. After we stopped, I looked through my tools and at first thought I might have left the 8 mm home. But then I dumped all the tools on the ground and found it. It took only a minute or so to install the crank, and I resumed the climb out of Trona. It wasn’t too long before I found that the crank was coming off again. This time I asked my crew to find a small tube of blue locktite that was with my tools, and we stopped a second time to reinstall the crank-arm, but this time with the blue locktite. I was worried that it might not have time to dry, and would come off again, but it stayed together for quite a long time.

I continued approaching Trona Pass, and a strong tailwind pushed me up the climb. I eventually crested the summit, then descended the windy road down from the pass. After the windy part, there’s a very long gradual descent to Panamint Valley, and the tailwind pushed us along very fast. It became dusk somewhere in the bottom of Panamint Valley.

I almost missed the left turn toward Townes Pass Road, but luckily there was another van at the turn waiting for their rider, and I saw it in my peripheral vision and turned left. Otherwise I don’t know how far up toward Emigrant Pass I might have gone. As I continued north, I felt the very strong tailwind pushing us north, and I realize we were going to have a very tough return toward the south.

We made the right turn on to Townes Pass Rd at about 7pm. I now had a very stiff crosswind or quartering headwind. I had a similar situation in 2004, so I figured that the wind would become less as we got closer into the canyon of the pass and got some shelter from the mountain itself. But it was quite awhile before that happened. It was pretty tough for at least the bottom third of the climb. I recall seeing the 3000’ elevation sign and thinking that I still had almost 2000’ to go and that it would take a very long time. But it wasn’t too much after the 3000’ sign that the direction of the road up the pass changed to a north-east direction and the wind became a tailwind. Before I knew if we were at the top, and I stopped to get some extra clothes for the very long descent into Death Valley. I did this descent in 2004 under similar conditions, but then I was riding solo, and it was earlier. I did the entire descent in daylight. This time it was dark, but I knew it would be very fast with the tailwind. Jim was driving, and he knew to stay very close behind me so I wouldn’t drop into the blackness created by headlights too far behind. With this confidence, I was able to let the bike fly. Jim told me later that for much of the descent I was going between 60 and 65 mph. I believe it because I passed

I eventually rode through Stovepipe, and continued a more gradual descent for another few miles. Eventually we began to climb again and to swing toward the south. That’s when the winds began to really get my attention. First it was a quartering headwind, then a direct headwind as I turned south. The next 20 miles riding into Furnace Creek was really a strong headwind; not as bad as 2004, but still a steady 25-30 mph or so. Furnace Creek was a very welcome sight, when I arrived at about midnight!

Furnace Creek to Shoshone (Isabelle): Isabelle was also at the 2004 508, crewing for Wade Wren Baker, so she thought she knew what to expect, but in reality the 50 miles between Furnace Creek and Ashford Mills was much worse this year than in 2004. But initially I was oblivious because I promptly fell asleep after leaving Furnace Creek was sawing logs for about a couple hours, though it was fitful. At some point I woke up and realized that the wind had strenthened. I eventually sat up and tried to take in what was happening. Isabelle would sometimes take a short break from the bike to rest her back. But the wind was so strong that when she began riding again, she wasn’t able to just clip-in and peddle. She simply couldn’t get going that way. Instead, she’d go in back of the van while it was stopped, and clip-in behind the van, get up some speed, then edge around the van and then continue down the road as the wind blew her back and forth across the lane. .

I worried about Isabelle’s suffering out in the wind, and at one point I told her that if she decided to pack it in and head home I wouldn’t be disappointed. It was just so hard watching her struggle out there. I could hardly open the door to get out of the van the few times I did so. But her reply was that when the sun came up (it was about 5 am at this point), the wind would die, and that she wasn’t about to quit; no way!

And sure enough, when we got first light, then daylight as she passed by Ashford Mills, the wind slowed significantly. It was then a long slog up and over Jubilee, then Salisbury passes, but she was very pleased to have the long, hurricane-like night behind her.

Shoshone to Baker (Dan): It took Isabelle about 10.5 hours for her typhoon-leg, but it gave me 10.5 hours of rest. I picked up at Shoshone and felt very strong riding south. Before long I crested the Atlas climb and flew down the long descent that followed. It was mid morning by now, and after the descent, my crew handed me a repair kit, then sped forward to Baker to gas up and get some eats. I followed, with a pretty strong crosswind buffeting me around. On the way I came upon solo-rider George Vargas, who had taken some sleep during the night. We visited a bit before I moved on, having had plenty of rest during the long night. Later, I also came upon solo rider Jon Snoopy Schellenbarger, who had stopped for awhile to rest. He asked if I needed anything, and I said, “Yes, I need Baker”, and continued riding. This stretch didn’t take too long, but it seemed like a very long time, and at one point, while I was riding alone and hadn’t seen anyone in ages, I wondered if I had somehow gotten off course and was lost. I thought I might see 29 Palms around the corner! But I eventually saw the giant thermometer, and pulled up to pass the baton to Isabelle.

Kelso Climb (Isabelle): While I had 10.5 hours rest before the leg I just finished, Isabelle had only 3.5 hours rest after struggling 10.5 hours over the night, so she had to be very fatigued. But she looked fresh, and was ready to go when she took over. After she left, I got a Mad Greek hamburger and rested in the van while the crew visited with other riders and crew. We eventually drove forward and saw her well along the climb to the top of Kelso. She eventually crested and began the long very rough descent from the top. I got out at one point and laid the camera on the road surface and took a picture of her coming toward the camera with the very rough, rocky road in the foreground.

Granite Pass Climb (Dan): One big reason I prefer to be the “A” rider is that by Sunday almost all of the A riding is done. The only one left is the short 35 miles over Granite Pass. The climb was cool in the late afternoon and I finished before it got really dark. There’s often a headwind on the descent from the Pass, but this was late enough in the day that I wasn’t slowed down much on the descent. In fact, I motored right down to the bottom at Almost Amboy, then passed the last stretch to Isabelle, who still hadn’t got much of a rest..

Almost Amboy to 29 Palms (Isabelle): The climb over Sheephole Summit isn’t bad, and the descent to the bottom went pretty quickly, but then there’s a very lengthy and arduous slog uphill to the southern end of 29 Palms. This section always takes a very long time, and tonight was no exception. Riders’ reactions are typically something like: “I just want this to be over!” It was about midnight by the time we eventually arrived at the finish, but we were all smiles after the ordeal was in the past!

Here’s our stats:

Dan's Stats		Seg Dist		Seg Time	Avg Spd
Seg 1	Start	82	6176	4.50	18.22
Seg 3	Towne P	100	7538	6.58	15.19
Seg 5	Sho-Bakr	56	2186	3.67	15.27
Seg 7	Granite P	34	2280	1.90	17.89
Dan's Totals		272	18180	16.65	16.34

Isabelle's Stats
Seg 2	Jo'burg	70	4212	3.68	19.00
Seg 4	Salisbury	73	6744	10.57	6.91
Seg 6	Kelso	35	2920	2.87	12.21
Seg 8	Finish	58	4170	5.45	10.64
Isabelle's Totals		236	18046	22.57	10.46

Page 7 of 7

2009 Ontario End-of-Season Crit

2009-08-23T18:32:00.000-07:00

Ontario End-of-Season Crit, August 23, 2009: Well, today was the end of season crit, and there was a pretty full field for the combined 55+, 60+ race. The course is wide and safe, and I didn’t feel nervous around the corners. It was warm, so I was happy with our early 8:00 am start time. Also, I remembered to use my inhaler before the race, and I didn't have any asthmatic reactions. Thank Goodness!

I stayed fairly far back most of the time. About ½ way through I cruised up on the outside left to see how difficult it was to move through the group. It turned out to be pretty easy because the pack would slow near some of the turns.

Before the race, John McKee asked if I’d try to lead out the Paramount racers with about ½ lap to go. The idea was that Monte would follow first, then John, if all worked out. So, moving up gave me a bit of practice when the time came for me to lead-out. However, as we approached the finish line for the bell-lap, I was moving up gradually so I wouldn’t be too far back when the time came to lead. But all of a sudden everyone else slowed, so that I was ahead by myself. Not really what I had planned. I probably should have slowed also, and kept my powder dry, but there I was in the front and I decided to do my best in my current position. Another Paramount rider, Howard Miller, racing 55+, was on my wheel. It turned out that Monte was behind him. By the time I got to the place I was supposed to lead out, I didn’t have much left, but gave it what I had. I pulled off after my leg and let the pack go by.

There was a group of 55+ racers off the front, who took the 55+ race. Monte took 3rd, and John was back a bit more. Loren Stephens took 2nd, behind John Rubic.

I didn’t have anything left to even stay with the pack, so I let them go, and came in a bit after the main group. All-in-all, an excellent day racing. There were no crashes, and no close calls, at least none that I could see. Glad that I managed to get through the rest of the season without any more crashes.

Now, on to preparing for the Furnace Creek 508 (Mixed 2-person 60+ relay with Isabelle Drake).

Run-up to 2009 Furnace Creek 508

2009-08-18T22:42:00.000-07:00

I’ve raced or crewed the Furnace Creek 508 each year since 1997, except for 2008 when I was laid-up due to a torn thumb ligament ("gamekeeper's thumb"). The race has gotten in my blood, and I look forward to it each year.

At the parade start for RAAM two years ago, I visited with Isabelle Drake as we returned from Bonsall to Oceanside on our bikes. “Dan”, she says, “in 2009, I’ll be 56 and you’ll be 64. How about doing the 508 as a 60+ mixed 2-person relay team?” I jumped at the chance, and here we are in the run-up to the race.

Jim Cook, a distance rider from San Clemente and my daughter, Danielle, will be crewing for us. Dani just graduated from UC Santa Cruz (I started in parenting late in life) and is staying with me while she looks for work and applies to grad school. I’m excited about the prospect of having her crew for me. It will give her the opportunity to see her dad doing the crazy stuff that distance riders do.

Isabelle and I had a short crew-training session with Dani on Saturday. We drove up Antonio in southern Orange County, practicing handoffs and support-car following. Isabelle was practising being cranky, whining and complaining to give us all a preview of what was to come. Should be be loads of fun!

I recently looked over some narrations of earlier 508’s. Here’s a link to my story from the 2006 race, which should provide a pretty good window into this epic event:
2006 Furnace Creek 508

2009 Ladera Ranch Grand Prix Crit

2009-08-16T20:52:00.000-07:00

Ladera Ranch Grand Prix Crit, Aug 16, 2009: Ladera Ranch is in southern Orange County, north-east on Crown Valley, in the residential area in the foothills of the Santa Ana Mountains. There were about 30 55+ and 60+ starters. Weather was cool in the morning. Didn’t feel cold at all after the start. Amazing how that works! The course was a 4 sided 0.7 mile loop with about 40’ of climbing per lap. A couple of the corners had somewhat narrow exits, but otherwise the course was quite safe. No crashes, at least not in this race.

It wasn’t too hard for me to stay with the group. There were a few who dropped off the back however. I think there were about 23 finishers. I stayed fairly far toward the back until the last few laps. I found if I stayed on the wheel of an experienced rider around the corners, I felt much more confident. On turn #1 about mid-way through the race, I failed to check who was around me as I entered the turn. As I exited and drifted a bit wide, I heard “Dan” … “Dan” and felt someone leaning into me. It turned out to be Loren Stephens, and I was crowding him to the outside. Luckily I was able to give him plenty of room, and no damage was done. Lesson: on entering each turn, make sure to check who’s around me, so I can leave plenty of room for the other racers.

As we approached the sprint in the last lap, I moved forward a bit and came across mid-pack, rather than in the rear. As I crossed the finish line, I had another round of exercise-induced asthma, reminded me that I failed to bring my inhaler and use it before the race, same as the prior week. I need to keep it somewhere close so I'll be reminded to use it before these races. In any case, I finished 6th out of about 10 60+ starters. The other Paramount guys did great: Monte took 1st, and John 3rd.

Afterwards I went on a social ride with Bruce and Theresa Steele, up Crown Valley, then up Antonio most of the way to the top. Terrific Day!

2009 Brentwood Grand Prix Criterium

2009-08-11T23:19:00.000-07:00

Brentwood Grand Prix Criterium, August 9, 2009: This race was held on a boomerang shaped 1-mile course with a 180 degree turn at each end. There were about 55 or so racers, 1/3 of them in my 60+ age group. I didn’t feel at all comfortable with the U-turns, so I stayed at the back, only going forward when a gap developed. The problem with the back, of course, is that there’s more accordion effect the farther you are from the front; that is, more slowing as you approached turns and more acceleration required after the turns to stay with the field.

I tried the inside at the turns and found that it was more likely to require braking if other riders ahead of you slowed or had to touch their brakes. Also, there was some water near the inside apex of the south turn, which had caused a crash in an earlier race. Neither did the outside work very well for me, especially at the north end which was narrow at the exit. Between the slowing for the turns and the fast acceleration needed when coming out of the turns to stay with the group, I was using alot of energy and breathing pretty hard. Then on the last lap, I began developing some exercise-induced asthma. I managed to stay with the field to the end, but I was seriously wheezing by the time I crossed the finish line, 13th out of about 17 starters. Gotta remember that inhaler next time! I finished with the field, didn’t crash, so the day's got to be considered a success.

My daughter wanted to see the race, but didn't realize how far it was from Irvine, and didn't arrive until the race was over. We hung around the race a bit, met a few people, then went for a rec ride in Brentwood, up Bundy to the end and returned to the car. On the way home, we stopped at the Carson Velodrome and watched some track racing for awhile, including an 11 man scratch race. We both enjoyed watching the lead racer go up to bank after a pull, then dive back down to the back at the end of the turn to hook on the back of the paceline. The event was a qualifier for nationals. Being able to watch track racing was new for her, and recently new to me, and we both enjoyed it.

2009 Comeback from Injury and San Marcos Crit

2009-08-11T23:01:00.000-07:00

Comeback: After a month of no riding because my hand was in a cast, I dipped my toe in the water with a recreational July 4 ride with friends. I still had my cast on, but took things easy. I wasn’t able to use my right hand at all for braking, and I shifted the rear derailleur only when absolutely necessary, and then from the inside, not outside, which I couldn’t manage.

The next weekend, on July 11, I did the Grand Tour Double Century staff ride. I finished with Rolland Hoffman, a distance rider with the ADO Gang, a group of distance riders from LA and Orange counties. Rolland and I finished in about 13:20, but slowed a lot over Grimes, Dennison and Casitas pass when the temps got up in the high 90’s. We had a great return to Malibu along the coast with a strong NW wind pushing us along.

The Friday after the GT, I got my cast off; replaced by a Velcro splint to provide some support. On Saturday, July 18, I rode Glendora Mountain Road, up 39 from Encanto Park, to Camp Andrews, up the backside to GMR, along the GRR to Baldy Village, then return GRR to GMR, down GMR, then along the foothills back to Encanto. It got hot on the return, but was otherwise a wonderful ride.

San Marcos Criterium, July 26, 2009: This was a 5 sided loop of about 1 mile with a 4-5% climb along one short leg, and a 2-3% climb on the following leg. At the end of the first long leg there was a right turn that was a bit off camber due to the slope of the concrete at the apex. It was a little chancey, and about the 3rd time around, I came upon a crash. It turned out that one racer went wide at that corner and hit a boundary cone, spinning it around. Then the next racer hit the spinning cone and went down, taking the following racer with him. Luckily by the time I came around the path was clear and the crash was no problem for me.

I stayed with the group for several laps, but there was such a short recovery period before the next climb started that I was done after 5 laps and faded off the back. I continued alone, but was never lapped by the pack. I eventually passed 2 other riders, and wound up finishing 5th out of 11 60+ starters.

After the race, a group of us (Monte, Jim, John, Bruce, Phil and me) did a rec ride to the coast and back. It was nice to chat with these wonderful competitors.

2009 Bakersfield Masters Road Race

2009-08-10T21:56:00.000-07:00

Bakersfield Masters Road Race, June 6, 2009: Driving to the race start on Saturday evening, it rained quite a bit as we drove the Ridge Route. I hoped it wouldn’t rain the next day. In the morning, it was blustery and there was rain in the foothills. As we rolled out there was some rain, but not enough to keep us wet. There was, however, some debris on the road from the rain. There was a mild climb as we approached the hills, and a rider or two fell off the back. We then turned up a road that followed the creek canyon and the serious climbing began. I tried to conserve my energy and stayed toward the back, advancing only when an opening developed as someone ahead began to drop back. I finally saw the top, and was please to have stayed with the group. As we approached one of the first outside turns of the descent, I slipped my back wheel where some mud was in the middle of the road. I let up on my brakes, but lost braking as a result and went off the road into the dirt. Since I wasn’t able to turn in the dirt, I went straight into a deep berm which stopped me from going over the side (a good thing)! I was still upright, so I unclipped and pushed off to get back on the pavement. In the process, however, I picked up a huge amount of dirt in the shoe cleat, and wasn’t able to clip in. I banged my shoe on the pedal to try to free the cleat, but couldn’t do so. As I continued the descent, I continued to try to clip in. I was eventually able to do so, but it took at least 45 seconds. When I was finally able to clip in, I looked up to see my group 2 turns down the hill. In trying to catch up, I stomped on the pedals but it was just at the wrong time because I was approaching another outside turn. When I leaned the bike over for the turn, the front wheel hit some gravel and slipped sideways, dropping me hard on the pavement. I slid across the rough road onto the shoulder. Luckily the follow vehicle was right behind me and stopped. They helped wash my skin to get the worst of the gravel out of the road rash, but I could tell my hand was more of a problem than my skin. They put my bike in the back of the truck and me inside the vehicle and drove me to the finish.

From some locals, I got directions to urgent care, but they sent me to the emergency room, which did a terrific job on me. X-rays showed that my right thumb metacarpal was broken (Bennet’s Fracture). (In a few years, I’ve now had all the major hand injuries: Scaffoid, Gamekeeper’s, and now Bennet’s. I figure 3 times for the charm, and I now I won’t have to get any more right hand injuries!) The ER doc asked my my pain level, and I replied 2-3 out of 10. He said I’d likely have to pinned in a surgical procedure, but the Ortho Tech tried to set the bone (Owwww! … That was a 10!), and then cast it. He told me to make sure when I got hooked up with my local orthopedist that they x-rayed the injury before taking the cast off, because if the bones were close enough, I might not need to have surgery. And that’s exactly what happened. Where is that guy? I’d like to thank him! He saved my so much pain hassle, and time that I would have had to suffer if they did a surgical repair. Where is that guy? I’d like to thank him!

2009 Paramount Grand Prix Criterium

2009-08-10T07:30:00.000-07:00

Paramount Grand Prix Criterium, May 31, 2009: This is the District Masters’ Championships and is put on by Paramount Racing, so I raced it and supported it, working the wheel pit with Mike. Before the race started, John suggested that if I felt good toward the end, say, with 2 laps to go, and if there was an opportunity, I might want to think about going forward to push the pace a bit. I thought to myself: How cool, I’ve got something to do! In the prior crit, the group slowed before the end, then the sprint finish was very crowded, and resulted in a crash, because everyone was so close together at the beginning of the sprint. The venue was Dominguez Hills, a square, 4 sided loop with very mild descent on the 2nd leg, and a very mild climb on the 4th. I hung in the middle/back trying to find the best line around the corners. I found that the inside sometimes resulted in having to use the brakes, due to someone ahead braking, so I preferred being a bit further away from the apex of the turn. At the beginning of the 3rd from last loop, the group slowed considerably, and I found an opening and slowly off the front, expecting to see some others behind me, but no one followed. In short course I was ahead by about 100 meters, and stayed there for the next 2 laps. The good part of this portion of the race was that I had anxiety going around the corners. On the 3rd leg of the last lap, the group rolled by me, and I finished off the back, 22nd of 27. Great day!

2009 Ontario Mid-Season Criterium

2009-08-09T21:54:00.001-07:00

Ontario Mid-Season Criterium, May 17, 2009: When I first decided I wanted to explore racing, I emailed Jim Langley, the recently-new wrench for RoadBikeRider.com, when I heard he just upgraded to Cat 2 at age 55. I had approached him about how to get started in racing. He suggested I contact local groups to see if there was a decent fit for me with one of them. When I started looking, I found John McKee’s blog on 55+/60+ racing. He is the president of Paramount Racing Team, and he suggested I come to the next meeting. The speakers for the meeting were a Cat 1 racer and his coach. They made the point that if you were interested in racing, you really needed to race crits, because there just weren’t enough road races to get enough experience or to be able to upgrade. Their talk was why I signed up for this crit. It was a 4 sided loop of about a mile in an industrial area. I was curious if I’d have trouble keeping up, but it turned out to not be a problem.

The masters ride early in the day, which is fine with me because you ride when it's cool, and you have the rest of the day after the race is over. The juniors ride even earlier, as early as 7:00 am. When we were on an early lap I heard a very young female (I assume a junior female racer) yell out: "Go Grandpa!" I had to smile, thinking it was probably her grandfather that was racing with my group, and he may have introduced the her to bike racing. How cool is that!

I rode in the middle of our group. With about ½ loop to go I stuck my nose out into the side of the front of peloton, but didn’t like the feel of the air slowing me down, so I ducked back in the pack. I finished in the middle, 8th out of 14.

2009 San Luis Rey Road Race

2009-08-09T21:24:00.000-07:00

San Luis Rey Road Race, May 3, 2009: In 2009, at age 64, I figured it was about time to begin my bicycle racing career. Mostly, it was a learning experience, and boy did I learn plenty!

I rode the course the prior week to get acquainted with the terrain. It turned out they had to change the course the day prior due to lack of some sort of approvals from the authorities. They changed it to be an out-and-back with 3 repeats. This had the effect of shortening the amount of climbing, which I couldn’t argue with. As I waited at the start line, the group ahead of our 60+ group was receiving their instructions. I had a last minute urge to use the bathroom, so I rode to the porta-john while me group was waiting. When I got back on my bike after releaving myself, I attempted to shift to the big chainring, but it wouldn’t go! As my car was close, I rode to it, unlocked the car and got out a Phillips screwdriver to adjust the limit screw. I then re-locked the car and rode to the start, only to find that the racers had already left and were out of sight! I apparently missed the start by about a couple minutes. When I was about a minute from the turn-around I saw the group returning, but I was never able to catch up with them. I did finish, after overtaking 2 of the racers, so I finished 15th out of 17. Lesson: First sign-up, then show-up for the start.