Messages from the Pale Blue Dot

Two-Day Ride to the Green Mountains

My long ride several days ago from here in New York over to summit the two toughest gaps, Lincoln and Appalachian, had left me a bit more wiped out than I had realized. While I had planned to take off the next day (Tuesday) on Wednesday and head for Burlington, I abandoned my plans to ride that day as well. My guess is that the bright white light that I saw on Monday afternoon at the end of my ride was something to do with a touch of heat stroke. So, rather than ride on Wednesday I ate Oreos and planned a longer two-day ride for Thursday and Friday.

Pam’s plan was to meet up with a former professor at Middlebury College on Friday, so I mapped out a route that would take me down through New York to Fort Ticonderoga on Thursday, where I’d cross Lake Champlain on the ferry and head off into the foothills of the Green Mountains. Using Google Earth, I found a very nice traditional Vermont inn, located at the bottom of the climb up Brandon Gap and booked a room for Thursday night, with dinner included so all I would have to do is get there, eat, get up the next morning and pedal uphill.

Pam and the boys decided to head down to Fort Ticonderoga as their Thursday adventure and to join me there for lunch before I went on into Vermont for my solo adventure. And, that morning I started my trip early pedaling down a gorgeous stretch of new blacktop with the sun at my back.

Fort Ticonderoga, which was captured from the French in the French and Indian War in 1759 and then captured by the Colonials from the British in 1775, was a fun family history experience.

In the above photo, a band of “re-enactors” prepared to light the cannon on the Fort’s battlements.

Here is information on the ride, broken into two pieces, from Essex south to Ticonderoga, in New York State and then the second part of the day (in the heat) from just across the lake in Vermont over to my lodging, located just outside of Brandon.

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/11196268

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/11196259

 

The Churchill House Inn is a lovely place to stop after a long bike ride, or historically after a long wagon trip with your grain to have it milled nearby. As I climbed out of Brandon, the first big drops of rain began to fall. Perfect timing as I stored my bike away for the night in the storage room under the lodge.

The next morning I rode out early, for a rather short ride with two big “bumps.” Here is the link for the ride: http://connect.garmin.com/activity/11196254 . It was mostly either up or down, with a short flat stretch between the two gaps.

On the first climb, there was a sign that must have been a transportation worker’s joke, since there was nothing unusual in the road surface.

The “bump” was the rising grade the culminated in a long, long pitch that seemed to go straight up for several miles.

In fact, at the top of the Brandon Gap I took a picture of my bike leaned up against the sign facing back down the road that I had just climbed. This sign was, in contrast, not a joke but the hard, steep truth about the climb.

I’m generally agnostic about most things metaphysical, however I make a special exception for the gods that determine when and where one gets flat tires. These “Flat Gods” abhor hubris and will send down a flat tire to anyone who might dare mention that he or she has not had a flat for a long time or, even worse, might decide to cycle without the proper tools needed to fix a puncture. These fickle Flat Gods also appreciate respect and will reward obsequiousness by sending down a flat, when it is absolutely necessary, at the appropriate time and location. On this ride I had two flats, both at perfect locations. Oh, thank you Flat Gods for your mercy on me, your humble adherent.

On the first day of this two-day ride, the Flat Gods reminded me that I had not put the floor pump into the car that Pam had driver to Fort Ticonderoga by sending down a flat tire just as I was riding off to take the ferry over to Vermont. So, I called Pam who drove down the hill with the boys to offer moral support and a comfortable place to put in a new tube and load it with compressed air from my CO2 cartridge.  However, with a floor pump I wasn’t able to get the tire up to the usual 125 psi and leaving me in danger of getting a pinch flat on a sharp piece of road.

Bike stores are few and far between in Central Vermont, but I did ride through Brandon asking if anyone knew of a bike store, thinking that I might find a floor pump. However, for the Flat Gods it was at least a gesture of recognition that I was making the effort to address the risk of a flat. So, the next day as I was riding through Rochester, passing in front of the region’s absolutely best bike shop, Green Mountain Bikes http://www.greenmountainbikes.com , my rear tire flatted again. So, what are the odds that I would get a flat tire within 100 meters of the only bicycle store for 50-100 km? The Flat Gods had sent me a “convenient” flat tire, in response to my reverent, respectful recognition of their awesome power to destroy a ride.

As an aside to this post, let me posit a few tips on how to avoid the wrath of the Flat Gods:

1. Never blasphemy the Flat Gods by saying stupid things like, “I ride bullet proof tires and never get flats” or “I haven’t had a flat in X kilometers.”
2. Always carry all the necessary tools needed to fix a flat tire;
3. Always pump up and refrain from thinking, “Oh, I pumped my tires yesterday and should have enough air in them to ride today.”
4. Before riding, check your tires for cuts or embedded objects waiting to work their way towards your tube;
5. Take a moment after possibly riding through broken glass to reach down with gloved hand to carefully brush possible shards from the treads (both front and back)

These are simple signs of respect that will placate the Flat Gods and help to avoid them sending down a flat tire or at least allow them to move on to others who flagrantly spite them and need urgent deflation.

The second gap of the day was the east to west approach to the Middlebury Gap, otherwise known as the “steep side.” As I was going up there were some other riders, probably locals by the jerseys they were wearing with dozens of logos for this local beer or that ski resort. When the road got very steep I started my weave from side to side on the road and the locals suddenly became much less friendly. Perhaps I was breaking some unwritten rule about riding gaps, but without a third chain-ring like the local “Freds” I really couldn’t have cared less about how I got to the top of my second gap that day.

Pam and the boys were waiting at the bottom of the hill in Middlebury, where we had lunch and drove back to Essex, NY. I treated myself to a chicken Caesar wrap, a dozen hot chicken wings and a big creemee (Vermont for ice cream) and began to feel much better about life when I was full of food, sitting in the SUV in the air conditioning and moving along towards the ferry in Charlotte without having to pedal. 

New York to Vermont and Lincoln Gap and Appalachian Gap

There are several ways that I know a ride took it all out of me. A clear sign is when my riding shorts are caked with salt from lots of sweating. Another indication is a deep echo in my ears and my voice is cracked at the end of a ride, which Pam can always hear and tell that I am pooped. But today when I finally got to the ferry on the Vermont side of Lake Champlain after almost seven hours on the bike, everything got very bright, spots started to form before my eyes and I had to grab the rail of the ferry to keep from falling over. For the next twenty minutes, as I sat up on the second deck near the steering house, pushing fluids, I could tell that the effort and the heat had taken their toll. It was a tough day.

Pam, the boys and I are on the New York side of the lake at the Crater Club, a historic summer holiday community just south of Essex and about three kilometers from the ferry that crosses Lake Champlain to Charlotte in Vermont. So, this morning I left just after 7:00 am to catch the 7:30 ferry and start my ride just after 8:00 am. The day dawned warm and humid, with almost 90% humidity and temperatures creeping up past 30 and reaching a high of 33. Was this the day to climb two mountain passes??

The route for the day was a hyper-ambitious one. My interest had been piqued by the Tacx Addict’s group ride to climb the several gaps in Vermont in one day, but tempered by Joe’s unfortunate spill while descending Lincoln Gap, partway through the ride. Pam and I had vacationed up in Vermont three years ago and I had done most of the gaps, but realized that I had not done either the Lincoln or Appalachian Gaps (although we had driven the Lincoln Gap.) (Note: for those not familiar with the term “gap”, it is just a Vermont way to say “col” or a road that passes through the saddle between the mountains, linking one valley with another.)

Today’s ride was my attempt to ride from the western border of Vermont, at the lake and up through the rolling hills, ascend Lincoln Gap, descend the other side, ride north and return back across the Green Mountains climbing Appalachian Gap and returning to the ferry and home, about 138 km. The challenge was the total vertical climbing, not just the two gaps but also the up and down between Lake Champlain and mountains.

There is an excellent website that details that gaps and has some very good elevation profiles: http://www.northeastcycling.com/six_gaps.html

The way that the roads up the gaps in Vermont were built make them particularly challenging. While the elevation difference is not all that great, it is the grade of the pitches up toward the top that are daunting. Most of the climb is in the 8% to 10% range, which is doable with a compact crank or a third chain ring and something like a 25 or 27 in the back. But, when the road turns straight up and there are 18% and some 25% pitches, the road becomes sharply awful. I admit that I listen carefully for traffic and do a weave, lessening the grade by carving elegant zig-zags from side to side of the road on the “holy shit” parts. Today was tough because the roadway was wet from the morning’s rain and there were even green patches where mold was growing while ascending Lincoln Gap (it has been a wet summer). I bailed out a few times as my rear wheel started spinning and my forward momentum dropped to zero. Damn tough getting started again up the hill on a 20% or more grade and I did some running starts and elegant clip-ins to the pedals while avoiding coming again to a total halt up the road.

Here is the Google Earth “terrain” shot of Lincoln Gap. That squiggly purple going apparently straight up the ride is the road actually going straight up the ridge. If one looks carefully you can see the skid marks where Joe’s shoulder and helmet intersected with the road on the descent last May (in the reverse direction as my climb.)

The summit took me by surprise, as I was actually ready for another 100 meters or so of climbing. But, I passed this sign in disbelief and had to turn around and climb back up to take the picture since I thought that it might just be a hiking path up to the summit. But, no, it was the top:

The climb up Appalachian Gap was much more manageable, due in large part to the better condition of the road and space to do my weaving back and forth.

At the top of Appalachian Gap, there was another rider who had come up the western slope and who took this shot.

Unfortunately, my Garmin 705 somehow messed up the TCX file for the ride. However, I’m working to get it fixed and may be able to upload the stats for this adventure. My best guess is about 2200 meters of vertical climbing. I’d love to see the wattage, although I was trying to conserve energy during the day and keep things under 200 watts for everything but the really steep stuff.

During the last 20 km, I knew that the ferry was scheduled to leave Charlotte at 3:30 pm, so I hammered the last set of rolling hills. But, with about 5 km to go, I realized that even at my fastest I was not going to arrive at the dock in time, so I backed off. But, with 2 km to go there were suddenly about fifteen cars heading up the road from the ferry, which meant that it was behind schedule and had just discharged its load of vehicles. There was a shot! So, I somehow coaxed the last watts from some tired legs and pulled up to the ferry as the deckhands were pulling up the rope, gliding up onto the ramp with only moments to spare. (That was when everything went somewhat cosmic in my head, with lots of stars and sheets of white light. Not a good sign.)

Now three hours later, my kidneys are functioning again and Pam’s local corn on the cob and my grilled chicken were perfect for refueling. Now for a big bowl of sorbet and some oreos!

So, two gaps down and several more to go. Perhaps my quest during the next two weeks while here on holiday will be to summit another five or six of the gaps in the Green Mountain range. However, the next time I’ll make sure that I start my ride closer than in another state and eliminate the extra three hours of riding and 1000 meters of climbing before heading up over the gaps.

Bon Ton Roulet Day 7: Auburn to Cortland (Tour Over!)

After arriving in Auburn on Friday mid-day, I found a spot out of the rain in one of the park pavilions, fired up the laptop and loaded weather radar. The huge green and yellow blob that had covered most of upstate New York was moving off to the east  and by afternoon the lashing rain had given way to blue skies as the remaining riders wheeled into the campground. Our little impromptu tent city, which had sprung up in Cortland, Ithaca, Glenwood Springs, Hammondsport and Geneva over the last week came to life again along the shore of Owasco Lake. Friends gathered in small groups to share stories of their soggy struggles along the road that day, fueled by cold beer and bottles of the locally grown vintages. It was a lovely last evening of this year’s Tour.

Geoff, my friend the retired AXA-Equitable executive, asked me to take a picture of him in a tent to prove to his wife that he actually was camping! At sixty-something, he consistently kicked my butt up hills all week (although he still descends like an old lady!) Maybe it is something about being a bond trader that makes him good at the slow steady ascent and likes to avoid the risks associated with quick declines.

This morning the camp emptied early as everyone was anxious to get to Cortland where they had parked their cars during the week and to get on the freeways home. Everyone was in a festive mood and I pulled out balloons and created colorful ornamentation for several bikes.

Here is the day: http://connect.garmin.com/activity/10317656

After six days of hammering, I was weary. Honestly, I started the ride dreading the hills and happy to amble along without the need to pass people or push big watts. However, after the first hour that awful feeling passed and I was back to my usual madness, ascending at 24 km/hr and blowing past the fat-tired Freds with triple cranks and mirrors attached to their handlebars. But, this last downhill came just at the right time, descending into Cortland. Dan, one of the other riders agreed with me when we finally found the perfect word.. we were “weary.”

And, as quickly as we had all come together just seven days before, the five hundred riders began to scatter. The wine buyers collected the dozens of cases of wine in the trucks, the beer drinkers polished off the remaining beer in the huge coolers and everyone loaded bikes onto bike racks, eased aching butts into car seats and drove away.

I dropped off my bike for repacking and shipping back to New York and, hopefully, it will arrive by UPS on Tuesday. A member of the Auburn Rotary, drafted to transport riders to the Syracuse Airport, dropped me off at the Holiday Inn Express. Tomorrow a flight from here to LGA and finally back home.

Bon Ton Roulet 2009: Cycling the Finger Lakes - Road biking - Spot

Bon Ton Roulet 2009: Cycling the Finger Lakes - Road biking - Spot Shared via AddThis