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wickedwordsMy bike computer wigged out, so I didn't have the exact numbers from the ride, but B sent then to me today:
Saturday: 97.65 miles, avg 12.2 mph, 7 hours and 59 minutes spent on the bike, total travel time 6:02 a.m. - 5:10 p.m.
Sunday: 106.5 miles, avg 11.7 mph, 9 hours and 5 mins on the bike, total travel time 6:20 a.m. - 6:30 p.m.
My left leg cramped up in the middle of the night, but I was able to rub it away; in the morning, I realized I hadn't taken any of the calcium/magnesium supplements I'd brought (aka Rolaids), so I made sure I had some for the day. Lar had gone out the night before and found me a bagel and a banana for breakfast amongst the decimated baked goods aisle of the local grocery, so I was able to eat early enough that we were on the road again in time to cross the Columbia River before the heat of the day.
The morning was cloudy and cool, and we ran into riders going a bunch of different directions. Some were headed back to the midpoint to drop off luggage, some were off to a meet up with other friends or had a different way to meet up with the regular route. B and I met up with the main route just after the midpoint, and threaded our way through the farmlands of Chehalis. I didn't know it then, but that was pretty much all of the flat riding we had all day. Everything else was either up or down a rolling hill, or in some intermediate 'flat spot' between the next group of rollers. It's tough.
We did see both goats and llamas on this stretch of road, in addition to the standard cows, horses, and plastic coated bales of hay, plus the crowds had really thinned out by this point. There were breaks and stretches where the riders in front of us disappeared around the bend, so that we were momentarily the only ones on the road. Such a huge change from Saturday morning!
It was wonderfully cool, too. We found out later that Saturday's high was about 88, while Sunday rain threatened for most of the day, and we did get sprinkles in spots. I wrinkled up my nose each time, but there was no use fighting it, and as long as it didn't turn into actual rain, a nice change from the constant baking heat of the prior day.
There's a big climb up a hill into Napavine, and the town's postage stamp sized, so there wasn't much to go through. We pulled over and had a snack, but I wanted to get to the portapotty stop that was supposed to be at the edge of town. Before we found them, we encountered a church group that was giving out fresh banana bread, and B pricked up a slice before we moved on.
The Napavine rest stop was awesome. There were only 4 sanicans--no food, no water, and no lines. We were in and out and on our way to Winlock in about 4 minutes, a feat unsurpassed at any other rest stop on the trip.
After that hill, we basically had 30 miles of rollers with something of a headwind along with occasional showers, through Winlock, Vader, and Castle Rock. We passed by the largest egg in Winlock, which was right in front of the convenience store that we stopped at; if B hadn't pointed it out, though, I never would have noticed.
Speaking of obtuse moments, sometime after we passed through Winlock while we were climbing up a hill in the sprinkly rain, I caught a glimpse of a rider making a dash for the bushes, but it wasn't until he shoved his hands in his bike pants that I realized 'oh my god, look away! he's going to pee!' He either hadn't stopped at the rest area, or the line had been too long, or he hadn't realized how long it was to the next bit of civilization, so he used a nature break instead. In general, most people were very good about using the portapotties, but there really were long stretches of road with nothing but trees and farmland around them.
I loved the Vader ministop; it seemed very friendly, and while I stood in line for the portapotty, a nine or ten year old who was on like his second or third STP told me what to watch out for on the road ahead. He also told me scary stories about the Longview Lewis and Clark bridge, which made me dread going over it all the more. Later, when we actually crossed the bridge, I realized he'd been meaning that if you look through the expansion joints, you can see the water below, but, pfff. I had a death grip on my handlebars by then and was looking neither right nor left, and kept my focus on the riders ahead. If I'd been riding on the back of a tandem, maybe I would have had a chance to look down, but as it was...not so much.)
After Castle Rock, I think we got another flat stretch of road into the Lexington food stop. We were late enough at 11:30 am that all the fruit was gone, but I snagged a PB & J on squirrelly bread and wolfed it down while waiting in line. I had to wait awhile as a few of the toilets had run out of TP, and I hadn't brought my Kleenex with me. But soon enough, everything was taken care of, and we wound our way through the industrial Kelso and Longview--ah, the scent of wood pulp makes me nostalgic--to wait in line to go over the Longview bridge.
Remember my bridge phobia? Yeah, well, I think I have aleady said enough about that. B was great, helping me visualize before hand what it would be like to be done with it and tell people about it, so I was as mentally prepared as I could be. We went toward the end of the line, grinding slowly up the bridge deck and then coasting quickly down it and into Oregon. People were really good about going around me as I worked my way up the hill, and with the Gold Wing motorcycle team escorting us over--some in front, some in back, making sure we were safe--it turned out to be a lot better than I thought it would be. When we got to ground in Rainer, Or, B & I pulled off the road so I could call Lar and give him a "whoo-hoo! I did it!" My worst fear about the ride, and it turned out to be so much better than I thought.
At that point, we're on Highway 30 for the next 50 miles. Much of it is rough chip seal, so you vibrate as you ride over the terrain. There's a wide shoulder sometimes, and a narrow one others, and a lot of the time, even if you're on the flat, you can see that there is another fucking hill in front of you just up the road a ways. Meanwhile, the sun beats down on you incessantly, and there's no available shade. This section really is a grind, and where I wished I could do 15 mph on a regular basis, just to get through the thing.
We stopped at the Goble ministop and got water, but they'd run out of everything except toilet paper by this point; besides, it was a rocky, dirty wide spot in the road, that really didn't have much going for it, other than the nifty looking tavern and boat. The St. Helens rest stop had shade, though, and water, and PB bagels. I whined a lot again, as my ass hurt, I was hot, and why had we ever wanted to come on this ride anyway? B found popcorn though, and I was able to douse my head with cold water, and wet down the large neckerchief/buff I'd brought, so I could tie it around my neck. That did cool me down, and the food helped; so we got back on the bikes and headed toward the last stop at Scappose.
Oh, hey! Between Vader and Castle Rock, B had ridden and chatted for a while with a guy from Ohio; he had never ridden this far in his life--I think he said 50 miles was his longest ride ever. And Ohio doesn't have hills, so the fact that the STP is considered a flat ride floors him. (Me, too) But when we were in St. Helens, the woman next to us was on her cell, trying to track him down; he was apparently an hour ahead of her, already at the Scappose stop. I don't know if he waited for her or not, but at that moment, I felt so proud of him, for going harder and faster than he's ever done before. There was a lot of people I felt that way about--Twenty year old sons and their moms, Dads with their kids on a tandem or a whole family group riding together. And at 45 years old, and 200 lbs, I was neither the oldest nor the largest rider in any way. The crowd was incredibly diverse, and some of the riders that passed were speaking languages other than English. The hard core went through the first day, so by this point, it was all normal people who had trained their butts off to get here, who were going at a slow and steady pace.
One of the cool things that happened was that I was following behind this woman that I had encountered several times on the ride, and she suddenly points at the side of the road off on our right. I'm used to her pointing out road hazards, but I can't think what can be so far over there by the trees that would be hazardous to us.
I looks and the words "Oh! A fox!" squeak out. She nods vigorously, and we continue on our way; later one I realize that I was brain dead enough that I didn't process the color of the animal: it was a baby coyote, standing in the trees at the side of the road, frozen in confusion or fear as there insane cyclists passed by. It was an awesome moment.
Scappose was a great pit stop. Just knowing that there were only 16 miles left made everything so much more bearable. My goal had been to make each rest stop before it closed, and we managed it, hitting Scappose at about 4:30. We called into our friends and family, and estimated another hour and a half, given that we hadn't hit the restrooms yet. Then we were off on the last stretch, and moving out of the heat of the day; this last bit, we occasionally got a cool breeze.
Portland takes forever to get through. It's the industrial section, so it's not pretty, but at mile 200, some of the gold wings were waiting under a tarp, making some racket at we passed and telling us we only had 4 miles left to go. Not long after, we hear a loud 'pop' and one of the 2 guys in front of us had gotten a flat. What a bitch to go all that distance, and have to change your tire right there at the last minute.
B and I stopped and had a snack--I broke into my animal cookies at last--and agreed that we'd walk up that last listed 'short, steep hill' on our way to the finish line. It wasn't that long, but I'm glad we did; by this time, my butt was letting me know that it wasn't really happy.
There was one confusing intersection, but B had the map, so we all followed her. We had to climb up over the Broadway Bridge (yes, one more final fucking bridge) and one last hill after that, one where the grade wasn't so steep.
We wound through some more of the city, and then we could see people starting to clap for us as the passed by, letting us know we were almost there. We saw the red cones, and people were sitting on the sidewalks waving and shouting 'Who-hoo!' 'Hurray!' "You did it!". It was awesome, and right before entering Holiday Park, I spotted Sandy with her camera, waving at us.
So we had to stop for a stoplight, and wait before we could enter the park.
I spotted Lar and waved him over to me, and he gave me a big kiss while Sandy gave one to Brie. Then we entered the park, and I got my finisher's patch, and I was so happy, I nearly cried. 13 years ago, when my heart failed due to my pregnancy, they thought I might need a heart transplant. Instead, I've done something I'd never thought possible: I biked 200 miles and crossed the longview bridge. And I did it less than a month before my 45th birthday.
{{{Hugs}} to you all. Thank you so much for your support.
ETA: since I took no pictures on this ride, here's a link to Pedaling to Portland which has many images of where we went.
Saturday: 97.65 miles, avg 12.2 mph, 7 hours and 59 minutes spent on the bike, total travel time 6:02 a.m. - 5:10 p.m.
Sunday: 106.5 miles, avg 11.7 mph, 9 hours and 5 mins on the bike, total travel time 6:20 a.m. - 6:30 p.m.
My left leg cramped up in the middle of the night, but I was able to rub it away; in the morning, I realized I hadn't taken any of the calcium/magnesium supplements I'd brought (aka Rolaids), so I made sure I had some for the day. Lar had gone out the night before and found me a bagel and a banana for breakfast amongst the decimated baked goods aisle of the local grocery, so I was able to eat early enough that we were on the road again in time to cross the Columbia River before the heat of the day.
The morning was cloudy and cool, and we ran into riders going a bunch of different directions. Some were headed back to the midpoint to drop off luggage, some were off to a meet up with other friends or had a different way to meet up with the regular route. B and I met up with the main route just after the midpoint, and threaded our way through the farmlands of Chehalis. I didn't know it then, but that was pretty much all of the flat riding we had all day. Everything else was either up or down a rolling hill, or in some intermediate 'flat spot' between the next group of rollers. It's tough.
We did see both goats and llamas on this stretch of road, in addition to the standard cows, horses, and plastic coated bales of hay, plus the crowds had really thinned out by this point. There were breaks and stretches where the riders in front of us disappeared around the bend, so that we were momentarily the only ones on the road. Such a huge change from Saturday morning!
It was wonderfully cool, too. We found out later that Saturday's high was about 88, while Sunday rain threatened for most of the day, and we did get sprinkles in spots. I wrinkled up my nose each time, but there was no use fighting it, and as long as it didn't turn into actual rain, a nice change from the constant baking heat of the prior day.
There's a big climb up a hill into Napavine, and the town's postage stamp sized, so there wasn't much to go through. We pulled over and had a snack, but I wanted to get to the portapotty stop that was supposed to be at the edge of town. Before we found them, we encountered a church group that was giving out fresh banana bread, and B pricked up a slice before we moved on.
The Napavine rest stop was awesome. There were only 4 sanicans--no food, no water, and no lines. We were in and out and on our way to Winlock in about 4 minutes, a feat unsurpassed at any other rest stop on the trip.
After that hill, we basically had 30 miles of rollers with something of a headwind along with occasional showers, through Winlock, Vader, and Castle Rock. We passed by the largest egg in Winlock, which was right in front of the convenience store that we stopped at; if B hadn't pointed it out, though, I never would have noticed.
Speaking of obtuse moments, sometime after we passed through Winlock while we were climbing up a hill in the sprinkly rain, I caught a glimpse of a rider making a dash for the bushes, but it wasn't until he shoved his hands in his bike pants that I realized 'oh my god, look away! he's going to pee!' He either hadn't stopped at the rest area, or the line had been too long, or he hadn't realized how long it was to the next bit of civilization, so he used a nature break instead. In general, most people were very good about using the portapotties, but there really were long stretches of road with nothing but trees and farmland around them.
I loved the Vader ministop; it seemed very friendly, and while I stood in line for the portapotty, a nine or ten year old who was on like his second or third STP told me what to watch out for on the road ahead. He also told me scary stories about the Longview Lewis and Clark bridge, which made me dread going over it all the more. Later, when we actually crossed the bridge, I realized he'd been meaning that if you look through the expansion joints, you can see the water below, but, pfff. I had a death grip on my handlebars by then and was looking neither right nor left, and kept my focus on the riders ahead. If I'd been riding on the back of a tandem, maybe I would have had a chance to look down, but as it was...not so much.)
After Castle Rock, I think we got another flat stretch of road into the Lexington food stop. We were late enough at 11:30 am that all the fruit was gone, but I snagged a PB & J on squirrelly bread and wolfed it down while waiting in line. I had to wait awhile as a few of the toilets had run out of TP, and I hadn't brought my Kleenex with me. But soon enough, everything was taken care of, and we wound our way through the industrial Kelso and Longview--ah, the scent of wood pulp makes me nostalgic--to wait in line to go over the Longview bridge.
Remember my bridge phobia? Yeah, well, I think I have aleady said enough about that. B was great, helping me visualize before hand what it would be like to be done with it and tell people about it, so I was as mentally prepared as I could be. We went toward the end of the line, grinding slowly up the bridge deck and then coasting quickly down it and into Oregon. People were really good about going around me as I worked my way up the hill, and with the Gold Wing motorcycle team escorting us over--some in front, some in back, making sure we were safe--it turned out to be a lot better than I thought it would be. When we got to ground in Rainer, Or, B & I pulled off the road so I could call Lar and give him a "whoo-hoo! I did it!" My worst fear about the ride, and it turned out to be so much better than I thought.
At that point, we're on Highway 30 for the next 50 miles. Much of it is rough chip seal, so you vibrate as you ride over the terrain. There's a wide shoulder sometimes, and a narrow one others, and a lot of the time, even if you're on the flat, you can see that there is another fucking hill in front of you just up the road a ways. Meanwhile, the sun beats down on you incessantly, and there's no available shade. This section really is a grind, and where I wished I could do 15 mph on a regular basis, just to get through the thing.
We stopped at the Goble ministop and got water, but they'd run out of everything except toilet paper by this point; besides, it was a rocky, dirty wide spot in the road, that really didn't have much going for it, other than the nifty looking tavern and boat. The St. Helens rest stop had shade, though, and water, and PB bagels. I whined a lot again, as my ass hurt, I was hot, and why had we ever wanted to come on this ride anyway? B found popcorn though, and I was able to douse my head with cold water, and wet down the large neckerchief/buff I'd brought, so I could tie it around my neck. That did cool me down, and the food helped; so we got back on the bikes and headed toward the last stop at Scappose.
Oh, hey! Between Vader and Castle Rock, B had ridden and chatted for a while with a guy from Ohio; he had never ridden this far in his life--I think he said 50 miles was his longest ride ever. And Ohio doesn't have hills, so the fact that the STP is considered a flat ride floors him. (Me, too) But when we were in St. Helens, the woman next to us was on her cell, trying to track him down; he was apparently an hour ahead of her, already at the Scappose stop. I don't know if he waited for her or not, but at that moment, I felt so proud of him, for going harder and faster than he's ever done before. There was a lot of people I felt that way about--Twenty year old sons and their moms, Dads with their kids on a tandem or a whole family group riding together. And at 45 years old, and 200 lbs, I was neither the oldest nor the largest rider in any way. The crowd was incredibly diverse, and some of the riders that passed were speaking languages other than English. The hard core went through the first day, so by this point, it was all normal people who had trained their butts off to get here, who were going at a slow and steady pace.
One of the cool things that happened was that I was following behind this woman that I had encountered several times on the ride, and she suddenly points at the side of the road off on our right. I'm used to her pointing out road hazards, but I can't think what can be so far over there by the trees that would be hazardous to us.
I looks and the words "Oh! A fox!" squeak out. She nods vigorously, and we continue on our way; later one I realize that I was brain dead enough that I didn't process the color of the animal: it was a baby coyote, standing in the trees at the side of the road, frozen in confusion or fear as there insane cyclists passed by. It was an awesome moment.
Scappose was a great pit stop. Just knowing that there were only 16 miles left made everything so much more bearable. My goal had been to make each rest stop before it closed, and we managed it, hitting Scappose at about 4:30. We called into our friends and family, and estimated another hour and a half, given that we hadn't hit the restrooms yet. Then we were off on the last stretch, and moving out of the heat of the day; this last bit, we occasionally got a cool breeze.
Portland takes forever to get through. It's the industrial section, so it's not pretty, but at mile 200, some of the gold wings were waiting under a tarp, making some racket at we passed and telling us we only had 4 miles left to go. Not long after, we hear a loud 'pop' and one of the 2 guys in front of us had gotten a flat. What a bitch to go all that distance, and have to change your tire right there at the last minute.
B and I stopped and had a snack--I broke into my animal cookies at last--and agreed that we'd walk up that last listed 'short, steep hill' on our way to the finish line. It wasn't that long, but I'm glad we did; by this time, my butt was letting me know that it wasn't really happy.
There was one confusing intersection, but B had the map, so we all followed her. We had to climb up over the Broadway Bridge (yes, one more final fucking bridge) and one last hill after that, one where the grade wasn't so steep.
We wound through some more of the city, and then we could see people starting to clap for us as the passed by, letting us know we were almost there. We saw the red cones, and people were sitting on the sidewalks waving and shouting 'Who-hoo!' 'Hurray!' "You did it!". It was awesome, and right before entering Holiday Park, I spotted Sandy with her camera, waving at us.
So we had to stop for a stoplight, and wait before we could enter the park.
I spotted Lar and waved him over to me, and he gave me a big kiss while Sandy gave one to Brie. Then we entered the park, and I got my finisher's patch, and I was so happy, I nearly cried. 13 years ago, when my heart failed due to my pregnancy, they thought I might need a heart transplant. Instead, I've done something I'd never thought possible: I biked 200 miles and crossed the longview bridge. And I did it less than a month before my 45th birthday.
{{{Hugs}} to you all. Thank you so much for your support.
ETA: since I took no pictures on this ride, here's a link to Pedaling to Portland which has many images of where we went.
