Cascade 1200. The Opposite of Room 101

So, in about a week and a half, I'm going to line up with about a hundred like-minded people and head off on the Cascade 1200.  Some of you know better than I do what I'm getting into, and some of you have no idea.

I have some idea, but I'm going to take it as it comes.  Heck, a butterfly in Uganda probably just put into motion a set of events that will determine how hot it will be.  It's out of my control.   

I'm not gonna kid you; this is going to be an interesting four days.

The Cliff's Notes version goes like this:

The ride is 1240Km. (770 miles)  One has 93 hours.  For a guy who grew up in Joisey, that's about the distance from Trenton to Jacksonville, Florida.  Sure, it's a good hundred miles shy of the distance from Urumqui to Tashkent, but you get the idea.

You could think of it as about 413.3 laps around Green Lake, but then you might go crazy.

I've been known to tell myself, "heck, it's only one lap around Green Lake to the next control, you can do that."  Unlike Green Lake, I doubt there will be Spuds fish and chips on the ride.  Ensure, Cliff Blocks, chocolate milk, Double Shots, PB&J, rotating hot dogs (for display purposes only), and Payday bars will probably appear in abundance, but I'm guessing there will be no Spuds. 

Here's the deal: I'm not as ready as I hoped to be, but I'm ready.

I'll start off easy, and then I'll back off.  I'm going to eat this elephant one bite at a time.

My bike is good to go.  I'm bringing the Waterford.  I flirted with bringing a lighter bike, but after the 400, I never got around to tweaking one to work better on long distances.  My Waterford just works; I forget about it.  It is the bike I've used on three 600's and a 1000, and it is the one I'll take this time.  I like the way it rides with some weight in the bar bag, and I like the way it handles when I hit a pothole at night on day 3.    

A couple of years ago, I worked the first overnight control on this ride.  I had just completed my first series, and I didn't think I'd ever attempt anything as audacious as the Cascade.

Of course I knew I would attempt the Cascade; I just didn't admit it to myself.  They gave the workers shirts that year with a big heart attack looking route profile on the back and a map of the state; it feels sort of odd wearing it.

Come on Kid, have just a taste; you can stop any time you want.  But look, all the cool kids are doing it.  Come ride a Populaire; it's free.  Here's a shirt, Kid; sure you can wear it.  No big thing.

I don't know how this is going to turn out, but I know arriving in Whitefish, Montana last year was a feeling you can't buy for all the tea in China. 

I rode the Flying Wheels century last weekend with a friend who did his first century.  The course overlaps with some shorter loops, so you get to climb the last hill with people of all abilities who are out there doing it.  Some were walking or sitting on the guard rail.  Some were just goofing off, but they were all out there.  Good on 'em all, as they say.

I know a couple of guys who have held the national 24 hour record and have been competitive in RAAM; I'm not one of those guys.

For me -- for right now -- this is the hurdle.  The bar is magically set just right. It is exactly hard enough.  It's the opposite of my Room 101. Sure, I'll probably peek at the room along the way, but I'm not going there.

DFL>DNF>DNS

Link to Cascade 1200


Link to Seattle International Randonneurs

Munchkinhead Micro Fleche

It's a stick-close-to-home weekend as The Momster is off doing her doctor thing.  Lizzie and I decided to do a microfleche.  We were a team of two.  We had one control at IHOP.  Surprisingly, Ralph and Carol didn't show up with bananas or cookies. Those guys don't volunteer enough!

There was no fire, but other than that, the similarities with last weekend were spooky.

Both rides had most excellent graphics:

We rode in close formation:



We carried all our junk in fancy bar bags:

Snacks were eaten by us. (passive voice points)  I'm partial to sparkle polish lately: 

We both rode single speeds today (hers was the pink one):

We stopped for pictures with our buddies:

We took naps when we needed them:


Lizzie has applied for a RUSA number, and we are waiting for ACP to validate the results.  Before she fell asleep, she said something about using this as the first month of an micro R-12.

Let's First Play, "That's Rando!"

Normally we start with the ride report and save "That's Rando!" for the end.  Not today. We will get to the ride report, but let's start in the middle this time, shall we?

Greg's cabin was about 65 degrees warmer than it was last year.  Hold that thought.

After the ride, we went over to Vinnie's cabin for some dinner and beer. Of course there was no real reason to let Vinnie know this ahead of time, and knocking on the door is so 1970's, so we all just showed up, made ourselves loudly at home, and did our best to wake up Vinnie.

Vinnie, of course, woke up all smiles and started cooking.  Pots were rattled.  Knobs on the were turned.  Bottles were opened.  The passive voice was used by many.



The cabin was a bit chilly, and I'm not sure if Vinnie wanted to practice Kent's Flammable Frito Fire Starter Trick, but pretty soon the kitchen was nice and warm.  We had a nice crackling fire going which would have been nice if someone had intended to have a fire.  It turns out that not only do Fritos burn nicely but so do really big bags of chips left on the stove if you turn the stove on.

The oven knob is a completely different knob than the stove knob.  Who knew?

Question: How many randos does it take to put out a fire?

Answer: One, but the others do pause slightly in the conversation to comment.

It's sort of like changing a flat when the whole pack is still together but with less urgency.

I didn't get a picture as I was a bit preoccupied, but Mark said my Photoshop ban would be removed just this once for good behavior to create this somewhat embellished reenactment.



You will be happy to know that we managed to put out the fire, warm up the cabin, and save most of the chips.

That's Rando!


Oh, and we did a bike ride.  It was wet.  Then it was night.  Then some of us slept.  Then it rained.  A lot.  Then we ate.  A lot.  Then we had a big banquet and told stupid stories.

No question the Fleche is one of the best rides of the year.  Thanks so much to Ralph and Carol, my fantastic team, and the rest of the crazy folks in the club.

I'm tired, so I'll let the pictures tell the rest of the story for now. 

  

An Open Letter to Fatty -- Let me in, and I'll do two laps.

Dear Fatty,
Due to an administrative error (I forgot), I failed to sign up for the 100 miles to nowhere.  But, you see, I would still like to ride.  What can I do?  How about you let me in, and I'll do two laps?

Pretty please? 

For those of you living under a rock (the real world) you may have missed the call. Here.

"The 100 Miles of Nowhere is a race without a place. It’s an event in which hundreds of people participate . . . all by ourselves.

It’s a very strange thing where you pay $95 for the privilege of riding your rollers, trainer, or a very small course (like around the block) for 100 miles. And then the profits from your entry go to LiveStrong, to help them as they help people, worldwide, in their battles against cancer."

Besides, I will have my army of devoted  readers (two or three people) barrage you with e-mail asking for you to let me in.  

Friends, email fatty@fatcyclist.com and ask to "Let Joe Ride Nowhere!"  

Sincerely, 

Joe "Wanting To Ride Nowhere" P. 

Bellingham 200K

It was a beautiful spring day in the Pacific Northwest.  Fenders were left home once again.  A guy could forget where he lives if this keeps up.  We had a fantastic route with about 80 riders.  That's a pretty big gang given the chili feed was last weekend and there is a 300 next week.  I hear something about a big ride on the other side of the pond next year; I wonder if the turnout has something to so with that.

It started off much colder than I expected.  I think it was just at freezing when we rolled out.  Since we were starting at a grocery store, and I didn't have any booties, I stuffed a plastic shopping bag in each of my shoes; they worked really well, and they are light.  Rapha could print these up in pink and sell them for beaucoup bucks.

At the first control, Vinnie had a busted cable.  It turns out he busted the cable because his shifter was buggered.  We set him up with a two speeder, and he hung out for the rest of the ride.

I finished with the fastest guy today.  Thing is, he rode to the ride, finished, and then rode back twenty or so miles to ride back with us, so technically, I finished with him.  That's my story.

But really today was all about hanging out and being social. Being at the back of the pack gives one a chance to see the archeological evidence of the ride.  This pretty much sums it up.

Thanks guys for a most excellent day. 

Oh, and here are my two favorite shots from the chili feed.

Maggie says "talk to the hand!"
Now, let's play, That's Rando!

At first, I was pretty sure Dr. Codfish's busted water bottle would win.  Then, I was liking the subtly counterbalanced PBP / Bike Snob pins.  I thought it was game over.


Unfortunately for the Good Doctor, Noel figuratively threw his bike at the line for the win when he emerged from the penultimate control with this beautiful Bic lighter.  I'm not sure if he had some old inner tubes upon which he planned to vulcanize pre-WW2 patches or if he was planning a pig roast at the finish, but clearly, this belongs in everyone's kit.
 

Weasels Ripped My Fleche

 

The Seattle International Randonneurs Fleche is all set for April 16th-17th.  Ralph and Carol have been herding cats, and they mentioned that some of you may not have signed up yet.  Are you kidding me?  Don't wait.  Order before midnight tonight. Carol will throw in free powder coated mini-donuts at exactly the right secret time.  I promise. 

Last year was my first fleche, and you just can't have more fun freezing, throwing up, emitting greenhouse gasses, and generally goofing off with your friends for 24 hours.  It's not possible.  Robert's ride report gives a fair summary of the Painted Fleche experience.  

Here's just a taste, an amuse bouche, if you will:

"Greg and Joe were harassing each other most of the way and everyone in the group seemed to have problems with gas. I suppose I should say that they didn’t have a problem letting it go. Honestly, this is the smelliest ride I have ever been a part of. That includes my trips through farm counties."

But wait.  There's more!  

 

After the finish, we camped out in a nice comfy hotel.  The next morning, we relived the whole thing while listening to live church revival singers.   I tried desperately to replenish the calorie deficit from the day before.  Bacon was involved.  Serious bacon.  There were eggs as well; I'm sure of it.  I may have seen a fruit. 

At brunch, everyone told lies stories about the ride.  Everyone from escargot to montagnards got medals.  I know!

So, if you are on the fence, sign up already.  You'll want to get a start on the planning; the only thing that takes longer than riding a fleche is planning a fleche.  

We hope to see you at the finish.  We will be out there, as will all the zombie truckers. 

Weasles Ripped My Fleche

(Greg, Bill, Don, Ken, Joe)

As the Wikipedia entry reports, quite nicely:

"Frank Zappa recruited artist Neon Park to create a subversive image based on a cover story from the September 1956 issue of Man's Life, a men's adventure magazine. After showing Neon a copy of the magazine, Zappa inquired, "This is it. What can you do that's worse than this?"   

Neon's answer was to craft a parody of an advertisement for Schick brand electric razor based on the "Weasels Ripped My Flesh" theme.

PegoRando

So there are a few bikes in the garage, and I decided to make one of them a lighter rando bike. Dario Pegoretti might just say, "No soup for you!" if he saw this. Or he might just smile and say, "Good on 'ya." I'm betting the latter, except he'd probably say it in Italian.

I'll put some better pictures up later, but she's a great ride. Thin wood fenders. Schmidt hub. Berthoud bag. All-weather all-day goodness.

Did the Alps again today with Vinnie, Kole, and Greg. It was a stunningly nice day for February in Seattle. Last time I rode the Alps, I had a tough go of it, so today was especially rewarding to clear my head.



I managed to hold back early and save something for (Lake) Alice (Road.) Alice and I have a bit of a stormy relationship. Last time I visited her, she was not so nice. Today she decided to play Good Cop so that I will come around again. I think she's toying with me, but I'll take it.

We just got back from a week in Calefornya, and when I got home, I had a nice surprise from Ron in NJ. He sent me this most excellent jersey, which I decided would feel right at home on The Alps. At the finish, I could swear I heard the jersey say something. It sounded like, "Yeah, Buddy, do that ride five more times in oppressive heat, and then you can wear me."



One of the riders in this picture did the ride. I think he's the one pulling the group through the night with a creaky bottom bracket.

Who knew that wool jerseys handle drool really well. I suspect there will be a few more Seattle Randonneurs at the next iteration of the ride.

Thanks Ron!

Oh, and it just wouldn't be a blog post without a shot of the little one.



Great day.