I’m finally emerging from a multi-day fog of chemical induced surrealistic life experiences. The past few days have been a great roller coaster ride in which shadows and shapes shifted in and out of my Robitussin, Alka Seltzer, cough drop, infused existence.
When last I felt this way, I was soothed/tortured with a cycling reality involving some interesting characters…
By yesterday (Saturday, November 27th), my post-Turkey haze had lifted enough and holiday/home chore duties had been cleared enough to make some time for a ride. Heaven knows I needed it! The Wood-man and I determined on Friday night that we would get out and put a few miles into our legs this weekend…
Not to be confused with “Thirsty Thursday” wherein local baseball fans flock to our local minor league baseball team (the Asheville Tourists) games and consume massive amounts of beer, I enjoyed a leg loosening Thursday ride of ….
Sometimes life just jumps up and gets going faster whether you are ready or not. So far this week, my life seems to have jump started itself at full speed ahead whether I was ready or not.
This past weekend was outstanding. We enjoyed some excellent weather, excellent riding, and the company of good friends. The individual ride stories have been well documented on both this blog and on Jim Artis’s blog at www.cyclingexperiences.com. I encourage you to check them out.
Jim was also gracious to take his time and present to our Rotary Club on his upcoming Tour of Discover – Ride for the Republic. He has posted video of the presentation as well. You may see the video by CLICKING HERE!
As I post this, it really seems like I’m looking in my truck’s rear view mirror and seeing things as I’ve passed them by. as I speed down life’s road today, I’m left with a newly re-energized love for riding. I told my “best half” last night over dinner how much I had enjoyed the routine of getting up, fueling up, and riding. The tiredness at the end of the day was wonderful. Along with Jim, I simply enjoyed the opportunity to ride 3 days in a row without worry about work matters or chores.
In an apparent massive geographic medication event, apparently every driver and resident we encountered had been given some kind of major “nice pill” over the weekend. Out of 3 days of riding in various sections of two counties, we were “buzzed” only once. No one yelled at us or threw anything at us. It isn’t just the absence of ugliness this past weekend that stands out but the overwhelming niceness that jumps out at me. People of all ages stopped at stop signs and spoke to us calling out and asking how we were. Guys in big 4x4 pickups passed us with plenty of room to spare AND threw up their hands in greeting. People sitting on their porches waved and called out. It was so nice that I’ve considered that maybe I was experiencing another fever of the sort that brought me “Headwind Harry” and “Slipstream Sallie.”
After the rides, the enjoyment continued as Jim and I posted our separate thoughts on the days’ events. It was our version of “dually banjos”.
(Post ride analysis from Cycling Center)
Dedication to his audience…
I was very impressed with Jim’s dedication to getting material posted so that his readers would have the latest information to peruse. Pre-ride, during the ride, and post-ride, Jim was thinking about how best to present his experiences to his readership. In fact, before he left Sunday headed home, he made sure to post a couple of articles so folks would have something to read while he was travelling back to Fayetteville. I kept waiting to see an “update from the road” as he headed east! I think his concern for an ailing alternator kept him from risking the stop to upload a new post!
Another lesson I learned or re-learned this weekend was about dedication. Jim’s sojourn to our home began when I asked how he was training for the upcoming Tour of Discovery. Turns out he wasn’t. Thus, the trip to Western North Carolina to “sharpen his legs”. Having ridden twice since last August and had only 30 minutes sleep over 48+ hours would wear most of us into the ground on the first day. Heck, I probably wouldn’t even have been upright. Still, Jim hit the road with us and hung right with us as we climbed and descended. Even having an ongoing mechanical didn’t stop him. His dedication to the ride was impressive!
It’s almost mid-week now and a fantastic weekend has taken its proper place in my memories. The standard has been set pretty high for the next time! Rest assured, I’ll be looking forward to it!
Until later,
- Zeke
Our weekend riding schedule with Cycling Experiences Jim Artis is now in the bag. The final planned ride is over although the planned ride didn’t occur. We were treated to some much needed moisture overnight and when we arose this morning, the skies were still heavy with clouds. There were enough times where the sun broke through to bolster our spirits and we met as planned at the Bethel Middle School at 10:30 a.m. …And that’s when the plan changed.
One look up the Pigeon River Valley revealed ominous looking skies and falling rain. With all of our riders gathered, we brilliantly put our brains together with the amassed years of wisdom (somewhere north of 250 total years) and said, “hey, let’s not ride into that!”
After a short discussion, we determined to ride away from the storm with the hopes that we wouldn’t simply be riding back into it later. Down NC 215 we went to the intersection of Stamey Cove Road. At this point, we were riding part of the old Bele Cher race route that used to be held in Haywood County. The road begins at river elevation and has a steady but relatively gentle ascent until about .5 mile before the gap. The grade jumps up significantly at that point.
(Artis and David Tate in the gap!)
(Champion cyclist George Ivey tops the gap in fine form)
(Zeke and Jim in the gap!)
After descending Stamey Cove through a series of “S” curves, we “enjoyed” one more climb before dropping down into the town of Clyde. This final climb was the first of many “uh, yeah, Jim – there’s only one more hill climb left.” (As became quite apparent to our riding partners, I was “woody-izing” Jim.
We crossed over Broad Street in Clyde and headed east on Thickety Road toward Canton. It was along this stretch of the ride that we were treated to a visit by “Slipstream Sallie”. Sallie caressed us with her gentle touch and moved us right along the road with seemingly no energy expenditure. This beautiful 2 lane road runs alongside the Pigeon River and is pleasantly shaded for the most part. It was an excellent chance to recover from the earlier climbs – just in time for one “final climb” (yeah, sure….).
The Turnback Begins…
After a couple more short climbs by area churches, we arrived at the intersection of Thickety Road and Champion Drive in Canton. This was our turning point to begin the 9 mile run back up the river to our starting destination.
“Headwind Harry”, in an apparent jealous fit of the attention we received from “Slipstream Sallie”, decided to make himself known. As we attempted to descend into Canton along Champion Drive, “Harry” blew full force into our faces whipping up dirt and debris filling my eyes to the point it was difficult to avoid the manhole covers along the way. I’m sure “Harry’s” nefarious planning to disrupt our flow took into account the morale damaging effects of riding full steam downhill and seemingly making no progress. As we turned onto the bridge at Fiberville to cross the Pigeon, “Harry” threw up another massive gust but came at us from the side this time. I swear my bike jumped 6” to the right!
After crossing the bridge, we had to climb a short knoll. At this point, “Harry” was back full in our face. I was running 4.5 mph and trying to stay upright while mashing hard on my gears. It was one of the hardest trips over that little knoll I’ve ever had.
After a brief break to suck down some energy and fluids, we said our goodbyes to George, who needed to head home to visiting family. The Tates, Artis, and myself covered the final 6 miles along NC 215 to our starting point and successfully ended our 3 days of training. For more details on this ride, visit Cycling Experiences to see the metrics.
(Author’s note: “Woody-izing” is a training technique used many times on Zeke by his friend and cycling mentor the “Wood-man.” The specifics of the technique and proper applications are proprietary, however, I can sum it by stating that you essentially “encourage” the trainee to continue on by lying to them about what is upcoming. It has proven to be a very effective technique to be used on Zeke. Time will tell if it had any merit for the application to Artis…)
In Days to Come…
As this weekend comes to a close and we go back to our normal routines of work and as my “best half” and I prep for our upcoming trip to California to visit Bro Dave and apparently mow his lawn, I’m very aware that some time in reflection on our past 3 days will find its way to these pages. Today, I’m very clear that I owe appreciation to Jim Artis for making his trip to my beloved mountains, to Kathy, my “best half”, for all of her support in making this weekend happen and happen smoothly, and to my fellow cycling and non-cycling friends, who made Jim welcome in our community! I close with a heart heavy with happiness!
Until later,
- Zeke
Sometimes plans just don’t go the way you anticipate. My experience is that occurs quite frequently. Take this weekend for instance. I knew that my time to ride would be limited what with all of the normal non-riding chores that need to be done. Normally, we have 3 homes/yards to look after and this is the grass growing time of the year so mowing is a pretty frequent event in my life.
With the knowledge that my time really needed to adhere to a schedule this weekend in order to have any hopes of riding, I got started early on Friday. As I had all of the power equipment at my house, it seemed to make sense to start there. I managed to get the smaller portion of the yard mowed quickly and without incident with the walk behind John Deere and I was progressing nicely on my schedule. I was on target to finish our yard work by early afternoon.
…and then things went awry. When it came time to mow the larger area, I mounted my garden tractor with the 52” cut and cranked it over… and over… and over. Nothing, Nada, Zip – wouldn’t start. So, the repair cycle started. Unfortunately, all of my tried and true methods would not work nor would the mystical tapping of the float bowl to which I finally resorted in desperation. Prayers and the swishing of wispy bird feathers over the tractor had no impact. After an hour, I gave up, reloaded the power tools, and headed for my local lawn maintenance shop (LLMS), which is similar in function to my local bike ship (LBS) but 100% of the time way more expensive and much slower in getting equipment back to me due to their backlog of work.
After arrival at the LLMS and after they made some much appreciated efforts to crank the tractor, it was finally announced by the HMiC (Head Man in Charge) of service that, “yep, something’s wrong. We’re gonna have to keep her. We may have to do some compression tests and maybe get into the engine.” Were I a cartoon, at this point any halfway observant individual looking at me would have seen $$$$ signs floating above my head.
So, we unload the tractor from the trailer, wheel it off to the side where it gets to sit in line for a week or so awaiting repair, and I start loading up my remaining power equipment consisting of the aforementioned John Deere JX75 walk behind mower and other tools of the trade.
…and things went slightly further awry. I just happened to notice, when loading the walk behind, that a part had fallen off while in transit to the shop. So… back into the LLMS I go but, this time I get to stop at the parts department instead of the service department. $20.00 later, I’m on my way to my next appointed round… err yard. I’m only 2.5 hours behind my schedule now but it is still salvageable and I’m still clinging to hope of getting in a ride late in the day but before some planned evening events start.
I make it 75% of the way through the next yard when… yep, you guessed it…
…things went significantly more awry. The mower picked up a stick, a walnut, or some other foreign object and shredded the drive belt of my one remaining mower. Ahh! I was so close! So, I load up again and make my second trip of the day to my LLMS carrying the remains of the now shredded drive belt. It was approaching closing time and I knew I needed to get the belt purchased to save time on Saturday. All hopes of riding on Friday were now gone. Fortunately, I made it back to the LLMS just prior to closing and was able to purchase the belt, a simple looking thing I might add.
Friday night’s plan included shopping for a new refrigerator to take advantage of some significant savings in purchase that only applied for a 3 day period in N.C. and only while a state-wide fund of $9 million lasted. By the time, we got to the store, the fund was already down to $4 mil… We made our purchase and was told that it would be about 10 days before it could be delivered. That was o.k. with us because we were really after the savings on the new energy efficient appliance and our old one, while making some interesting noises on occasion, still worked.
Saturday arrived with the hope of a new day and a new schedule. My “best half” and I have company coming next weekend and we needed to “spruce up” the place some. I had some hopes, though not many, of getting in a mid-day ride because the weather forecast was for heavy rain with thunder storms late in the afternoon.
Still, I had to get the mower belt on and finish up my remaining yard before I could pursue riding. (Yes, I too am beginning to question my priorities at this point.) So, with new belt in hand and fully anticipating a 10 minute repair job, I pull the mower off the trailer and start to install the belt. But, hey wait a minute, what’s up with this?
…and things went awry – again!. After an hour (30 minutes of which included trying to find the mower manual), of trying to install the belt, I loaded up and headed back – say it with me now – to my LLMS. I get there just before closing time and make my way to the service department. Hopefully, I didn’t really hear a trail of laughter behind me as I entered the store for the 3rd time this weekend. I was quickly informed “yep, ya gotta pull the whole engine on that model to install the drive belt.” Off the trailer we go, into the line for maintenance with a hopeful indicator of getting it back in 2.5 weeks…
Back home I go, only to arrive and be greeted by the delivery of our new refrigerator. So, everything stops in order to empty the old refrigerator and install the new one. Say “buh bye” planned schedule. No riding on Saturday. As a point of interest, the heavy rains did arrive late afternoon and continued into early Sunday morning.
Final connections to the new refrigerator for ice making and water needed to be done on Sunday so a new schedule was devised over morning coffee. Yes, the new schedule included riding. This effort led to the direct formulation of something I’ve known for awhile and others have probably stated better than I will. Here goes…
Zeke’s Axioms for the use of tools:
1) Axion 1: The tool you need is NEVER in the place it is supposed to be which results in wasted time trying to find it.
2) Axiom 2: Upon finding the missing tool, it doesn’t work or some piece of equipment needed to make it work is missing (see Axiom 1) or it too is broken.
Soooooo, after a trip to my LHS (local hardware store) to get the needed items, I finally made the proper connections to the refrigerator and had accomplished most of my work related chores for the weekend. This merely required drilling through the floor, pulling down part of the basement ceiling, locating the tap on the water line and doing my best not to break it off thus flooding the basement or, at least, requiring that the water be cut off.
Late Sunday afternoon had arrived and I was pooped, popped, and tuckered out. The thought of riding had left me as I couldn’t muster the energy to get dressed knowing that I would be in mortal combat with Headwind Harry if I tried to ride. While the day was beautiful, HH was clearly out and about. I had experienced his strength as I rode my Harley to and from lunch and to the LHS. Harry had pushed me around quite significantly on my brief trips to the store.
At this point, I determined that my current position in a chair in the sun on my deck was about as excited as I needed to get the rest of the day. Now, it’s Monday morning and I’m waiting, just waiting -
… for something to go awry.
Until later,
- Zeke
(P.S. For an interesting look at shifting gears in yesteryear, check out Dave’s post today on Dave Moulton’s Blog. Watch the video and then click on the link to see how the video camera was mounted. Ingenuity at work!)
Sunday, April 18th, was my first ride to Asheville of the year. Along with the Wood-Man, I enjoyed a fine afternoon in the saddle as we covered the 38 miles from our starting point to Tripps Restaurant in Asheville. It is Dogwood Winter here in the mountains of Western North Carolina, which means that the Dogwoods are in full bloom and the temps have dropped to cooler ranges. We’ve had frost warnings for the last couple of nights and even a freeze warning one time. Fortunately, the days warm up nicely and that was the case yesterday as we climbed and descended our way into the “big” city.
We took a route along Old Clyde Highway from Lake Junaluska to Canton. If you can picture 3 roads running pretty much parallel, Old Clyde Highway would be the middle road. Part of the time, you’re running along the Pigeon River and the rest of the route is agricultural-to-residential in nature.
After passing around and through Canton, we headed up Newfound Road. Newfound is the longest and steepest of the climbs on this route topping out at 9% grade. I was really feeling my Saturday “work day” of cutting firewood and mowing grass. My legs and lower back felt tight as rubber bands stretched to their limit and I struggled to maintain contact with the Wood-Mans’s rear wheel. I lost about an 1/8th of a mile to him as we crested Newfound Gap and dropped into Buncombe County.
As always, what goes up must come down and I caught back up with him on the descent side of the mountain. From there it was a run across the valley floor where we were occasionally accompanied by the dastardly Headwind Harry, who I suspect was hiding in amongst the pretty white clouds. He seemed to make his presence known mostly on climbs, which of course is his standard mode of operation.
At the 2 hour mark, we took a brief break at the intersection of Newfound Road and Leicester Highway (pronounced Lester Highway by us locals). The short break did my back good but my quads tightened up. We called our “better halves” and gave them the meeting time at Tripps. They were heavily involved in their favorite form of exercise – aerobic shopping!
(Suttles Quick Mart – site of much needed rest)
After a very short run on the dual lane Leicester Highway, we were running along a ridge that provided a wonderful panoramic view of the Blue Ridge Mountains to the north of Asheville. After dropping down into the Erwin Hills Community, we had a series of climbs that just about drained the rest of my leg power. Mercifully, the climbs ended and we crossed the French Broad River north of Asheville. From here, it was a 6 mile run along the river using some of Asheville’s bike lanes. Normally, I can hang on Wood-Man’s wheel here but that was not the case on Sunday. I struggled to keep him in sight as I started bonking. At this point, I had serious doubts that I would be able to make the final climb up from the river to Pack Square. I did persevere and make it.This brought us to Tripps where I re-discovered the term “rubber legs.”
I was very pleased that the ride was not an “out and back” exercise! I would have given my kingdom, if I had a kingdom, for a hot tub last night!
A point of interest:
I’ve written often about riding the Pigeon River Valley above Canton. Last week, our local paper featured an article about one of the most famous “residents” of the PRV – The Osborne Family Oak. I have a deep appreciation for this tree and the history of our county that time has seen fit to pass under its spreading limbs. I share this story as a further point of interest for those readers, who have noted my writing of the area.
|
Osborne Boundary Oak to be evaluated for restorative care The Osborne Boundary Oak, a historic tree on the Department of Transportation right of way, will be evaluated for immediate restorative care and recommendations for continued care by Lloyd Anderson, an experienced knowledgeable tree specialist, Southern Tree Care, at 1:30 p.m. Monday, April 19, at the site of the tree on NC 110 at the junction of Wells (1869) and Jeffrey Lane with Pisgah (NC 110). Observers are welcome. “The Osborne Boundary Oak was in existence in the days before white man settled Bethel Community,” said Doris Hammett. According to documentation, an Indian council existed near this tree. When General Griffith Rutherford and his men pressed against the Native American villages in Western North Carolina in 1776, they marched by the tree and forded the Pigeon River. |
Positive Response from NC DOT:
(Fairly wide, relatively clean gutter - pre-cleaning.)
(Example of gutters closing down – sweeper machine just passes over it.)
(Gutter almost completely gone!)
A couple of week’s ago, I wrote an email to the local NC DOT Engineer regarding the condition of the shoulders/gutters along NC 110 and NC 209. I explained that I wanted to be proactive this spring and highlight a couple of areas that might need some additional attention as they did their routine “spring cleaning”. Today, I received back a very nice reply indicating that the local DOT Maintenance Engineer had been to the sites and made a preliminary review of the work needed. I was informed that the work is scheduled to start in 3 weeks. I very much appreciated the kind response that I received and look forward to the widened gutters as I ride these roads! THANKS DOT!
Until later,
- Zeke
The summer-like weather continues here in Western North Carolina offering up some fine, fine riding opportunities. Tuesday was another of those warm, bordering on hot, days with nary a cloud in the sky. For my commute home, I’m not sure the weather could have been much better.
Damned if you do, damned if you don’t…
I’m beginning to think that a whole new character must reside along the beginning portions of my evening commute along Business 23/NC 209. This area seems to be where I am most likely to get screamed at, insulted, gestured at, etc. this year. The new character, A$$hole Appleton, must hang with Headwind Harry and Congestion Charlie and have the ability to occupy the brains of random people, who may be nice at other times.
Tuesday’s encounter with A$$hole Appleton occurred at the traffic light on NC 209 and Old Clyde Road. I had passed through the two previous lights on the downhill run past the Lowe’s store and the nasty intersection of Hospital Drive and NC 209. I was actually maintaining the speed limit with zero vehicles behind me. I was cruising until I crossed under the railroad trestle and came upon the traffic light. Of course, it was red in my direction of travel so I had to stop.
As I was duly stopped behaving myself like a good law abiding cyclist should, obeying my responsibilities on the road as a legal form of transportation, a horn starts blowing right on my rear wheel. It seems a red small pickup truck driven by a white haired older man took offense that a) I was stopped at the traffic light or b) I was somehow impeding his ability to not go through the red light. I looked at him and he was doing some pretty good gesturing at me with an angry look on his face. I just raised my arms, somewhat pointing at the red light, but mostly out of frustration at this latest interaction. (No one fingered salute here as I stuck to my goal of not being nasty…)
The light changed and I moved on to the gutter and let the jerk go by. He didn’t bother with eye contact as he went by and he had his window rolled up so a blistering commentary from me wasn’t in the offing. Fortunately, the vast majority of vehicles passing me are driven by folks who either benignly ignore me or are out and out friendly.
Upon reaching Richland Creek Road and making my eastern turn so I could ride along the river, I was pleasantly greeted by at least two drivers as they passed me on the two lane road. This is the road where I recently found a knife and replaced it on the bridge railing. I was eager to see if it was still present. It was…
The remaining portions of the ride were pleasant as I made my way down to Clyde, over to US 23 north to Canton, and then up NC 110 to Bethel. I was still feeling pretty good and most of the negative energy from my earlier interlude was gone. What little negative energy remained was soon exorcised as I enjoyed the lovely evening ride along Love Joy Road.
I can only recall 3 vehicles passing me on this 5 mile stretch as I made my way home. I noted an increase in campers at a small commercial campground on Love Joy. There were a few fishermen plying the waters of the West Fork and I even threw my hand up in greeting to two cyclists as I was beginning my run along Love Joy.
After rejoining NC 215 and heading north, I decided one more climb was in order for the day and I split off on Edwards Cove Road. I determined that a good set of burning quads would finish off the day just right. Edwards Cove has two climbs to overcome and then returns to NC 276 very near the entrance to my home. All in all, a fine day commuting home. I think I even detected Slipstream Sallie accompanying me on Love Joy!
Until later,
Zeke
Psst! “Congestion Charley” here. Some of you return visitors may have noted that Zeke hasn’t posted a new entry since his late night ride with Slipstream Sallie and Headwind Harry. (See previous post for more details) I thought I’d drop by and offer a small explanation for his absence.
What Zeke didn’t know at the time of his recounting of his encounter with Harry was that I, Congestion Charley, was in stealth mode on Harry’s rear wheel. Ol’ Zeke never saw me coming. Harry was sure laughing up a loud storm as we all approached the gap. That was partly because, well, Harry is just a gigantic 2 wheeled jerk, who would rather blow through a traffic light and cause mayhem than take a moment or two of rest and blend in. Nope, that wouldn’t be Harry. Harry, quite a talented rider without all of the crap he pulls, can pull up a headwind to stop the best of ‘em when he wants to. Next time, you’re out doing your favorite loop and fighting a headwind all the way out and then you turn around to go home banking on that nice tailwind only to find that NOW you’ve got another headwind – well, that’s Harry’s work. Look around. You might see him riding off your shoulder enjoying his own freak show and just laughing like the jackass he is . But, I digress…
Ya see, last week I’d been getting itchy and stuffy with boredom and I’ve learned from past experience if I don’t get in some action pretty soon, I’m gonna get major league depressed. So, while me an ol’ Harry were knocking back a couple of cold ones and discussing my general state of mind, we hatched this plan where Harry would jump the first rider we saw on the mountain and distract him. This would let me get in the perfect position to make my assault and dump off some of these old nasty feelings I’ve been getting.
So, I laid up beside the road in behind some old scrub brush just so I’d be hidden while Harry jumped out on the road far enough ahead of the rider as to make it look like he’d been climbing all along. Sure enough, it wasn’t long til we caught wind of some dufus that had been merrily spinning along with that do-gooder Sallie. Zeke, of course we didn’t know his name at the time, predictably closed the gap to Harry as we planned and never even saw me jump on Harry’s rear wheel. I mean, when I go stealth – I GO STEALTH!
Everything was going along just as we intended. Clearly, Zeke was getting freaked and when Harry dropped onto his rear wheel and started laughing, well, let’s just say that I was surprised not to see a spreading discoloration on his shorts. Harry did a marvelous job of keeping up his loud assault on a clearly tiring rider. I don’t think Zeke even looked in his rear view again.
We were closing on the gap at a pretty good pace given Zeke’s fear enhanced mashing but Harry was holding close. Just as Zeke passed through the gap into that interminable sunshine on the western side of the slope, Harry sat up and dropped off to his left letting me slingshot around on the right and directly into ol’ Zeke. Like I say, when I do stealth, I do it right.
It took me a few hours but I worked my way in good and tight and the next thing Zeke knew his head was stopped up, I had about a quart of fluid draining a minute giving him a real good sore throat. I was really proud of how I made his eyeballs and gums hurt from the pressure in his head. I really enjoyed the deep resounding bass of his headache.
I hung around a few days and kept him pretty nicely disrupted to the point he couldn’t ride or write. He started a couple of times to write something but I managed to raise my levels a little and just knocked him back again. I’ve pretty much gotten bored with this scene now and I’m planning on moving along. Zeke’s been such a good host that I thought I’d drop by his place here and let all you good people know what was going on. Oh yeah, I also wanted to brag a little. This has been some of my best work in awhile. I think Zeke will be back riding maybe today or tomorrow. I’m pretty sure his head will clear enough to write by that time.
So, I’m outta here! I’ll move along now. I’ll be seeing…. YOU!
as Zeke would say,
Until Later!
“Congestion Charley”
The ride started like so many rides before it. The weather was pleasant, traffic was light, and I felt in good mind and spirit. My legs felt strong and the recent weather induced downtime did not seem to have hurt me. I started out on the pleasant rural road at an easy cadence as I warmed up my muscles.
As I was cruising along, I noticed that the spring jonquils and other early bloomers were beginning to make themselves known. The pretty yellow colors and those of the paper white Narcissus were bunched together in small groupings against the downed logs and in little clusters against the few remaining snow banks. I can’t recall when the air smelled fresher.
I was called back from my reveries by the pleasant sound of a bell tinkling and realized that I had been joined on my ride by a young lady whom I had never met. She was riding effortlessly beside me on what I took to be a step-through hybrid of some sort. Her bike appeared to be nicely setup for commuting. She was riding in an upright position and had some fatter road tires mounted. I thought I detected 3 rings upfront and what looked to be a 9 or 10 speed cassette on the back. She had a pretty basket attached to her handlebars, which appeared to be full of some sort of goodies. My mouth began to water with thoughts of home baked cookies.
The absence of traffic made it quite safe for us to continue riding side-by-side so we could talk. It turns out she was a local girl, whose passion for cycling led her to be a full time rider. Rather than being dressed in the spandex and brightly colored apparel of the day, she had on a fresh looking set of cotton shorts, T-shirt, and tennis shoes which she kept on her platform pedals almost effortlessly. I swear she was maintaining an even push/pull on her pedal stroke the entire time.
Given the pleasantness of the day, I had failed to keep up with our route of travel and I noticed that I was in somewhat unfamiliar territory. I didn’t recognize the area but wasn’t unduly alarmed. My co-rider certainly seemed to know where she was going so I took solace in that and just enjoyed the friendly company. I did note that we seemed to have ridden into a glen where the spring weather was somewhat further along than the area in which I had started the ride. The greens were certainly greener, flowers more fully opened, and the blue skies had a deeper color that I sensed I could almost literally taste.
In short time, I could see an approaching fork in the road. The left fork was river grade and appeared to continue on between the pristine mountain creek on the left and the rhododendron filled banks of the mountain on the right. The right fork began a gentle climb up the mountain. I could see that a more challenging climb would become part of any decision to take the right fork. Decision time was approaching as to whether to climb or continue this pleasant interlude along the creek.
Even though I had been riding a couple of hours at this point, it still only felt like minutes due to the ride being so effortless. I asked my impromptu companion which route she would be taking and was not surprised to hear that she was heading down the left fork. I determined I had the energy and desire to climb. I thanked her for the good company and conversation and realized I had not been made aware of her name. To my inquiry, she emitted the most pleasant sounding chuckle and said, “Well, my biking friends like to call me Slipstream Sallie so I guess that will be good enough for you to.”
When we reached the fork in the road, I bid her a fond adieu and began my trek up the road hardly travelled. As I predicted, what had been a gentle incline at the fork became a steadier incline within a mile. The two lane road showed signs of damage from the winter storms with potholes appearing on a regular basis. The weather had also begun to change as I climbed with the signs of spring at the lower elevations becoming less and less noticeable as I gained altitude.
Somewhere into the second or third mile of the climb, I noted a cold chill had begun to wrap around me. The previous feelings of warmth and bliss were rapidly being sucked out of me as I continued the climb. The trees were still very much barren at this point and the cold gray granite rock only added to the austere feeling of this mountain road. Grit and gravel were now constants and I had to be careful to maintain my forward motion in a steady seated cadence because I would lose rear wheel traction when I stood to mash the pedals through the increasing incline.
The tree line was approaching now and, on the road just ahead, was a solitary rider. The black and white paint scheme of his bike along with the yellow accents let me know that he was riding a Scott Addict RC. Somehow the colors of his high end bike matched the spring thunderstorms I could see off in the valley. He was dressed all in black in what appeared to be the standard bibbed pants and winter jersey of a roadie. His helmet was black and he had made no effort to wear any hi-viz colors. He was, in fact, quite difficult to see as we moved into a fog bank that had encompassed the road.
His pace was such that I was coming alongside him and could take note of his full beard. His facial expression was one of someone who has suffered on many a long climb. I did my best to greet him pleasantly as I approached. I did not want to make the same mistake that I had made with Sallie so I got down to names quickly. I introduced myself as Zeke to which he bared gritted teeth and said simply “Harry – Headwind Harry.”
Realizing that Harry wasn’t up for company, I tried to pull ahead but could not do so. The incline had become too great and my heart beats per minute had way exceeded my training zone. Breath was short and I was struggling to simply keep the bike vertical. I had only moved a wheel’s length in front of Harry as he maintained his same pace.
It was then that I noticed that his clothing wasn’t spandex and lycra at all. It was an interwoven grouping of bubbles that at once formed a seamless exterior covering and, at the same time, seemed to encompass some sort of scenery. As best my condition would allow, I was drawn to the bubbles and in them I saw scenes of loss and agony. I saw the death of my father and the loss of my beloved dog. In another, I saw the universally recognized look of grief as a young mother mourned the loss of her child. Other bubbles depicted earthquakes and famine.
I was appalled and scared beyond belief and had an overwhelming urgency to get away from Harry, who merely let up slightly on his pace and dropped onto my back wheel. I could sense the sneer coming off of him as he closely tracked my wheel on the climb to the gap. I must have been 200 yards from the gap at this point and was struggling mightily to get away from Harry. To add insult to injury, a strong headwind, almost visible to the naked eye, roared through the gap toward us and sapped my remaining strength. I was running purely on fear now motivated only by the sounds of Headwind Harry laughing behind me.
Finally, I pushed through the wind and crossed the gap into the sunshine and began the descent down this most treacherous mountain. It was a couple of miles before I realized that Harry was no longer on my wheel. In fact, looking back, I’m not sure he came through the gap at all.
Several more miles down the mountain, I came across a small mountainside cafe where the road intersected with one coming from the east. I was worn out and in bad need of sustenance after my harrowing journey. I was on the verge of bonking and recognized the need for fuel for my body. I pulled in beside 4 other bikes that were lined up in a rack at the door of the cafe.
I recognized one of them as belonging to Sallie. I was mighty pleased to realize a friendly face was just through the door. Upon entering into the dimly lit room, the smell of fresh coffee and freshly baked pastries overcame me and I almost wept with joy. To my surprise, Sallie was at a table with Lance, Levi, and Alberto, who it seems had escaped the media frenzy for the day and were out on a friendly ride together. It quickly became evident that they were the best of friends despite the “show” that they put on in the public face. It was also quite evident that they were finding the same comfort and blissfulness in the company of Sallie that I had so recently enjoyed.
I quickly came to learn that their perceived animosity was nothing more than a manipulation of the media to draw ratings for their races. As with professional wrestling, they recognized that fake threats and over-the-top antics were actually good for their business. Here, alone and out of the limelight, they were enjoying the camaraderie of good friends devoted to their sport. I was quickly drawn into their conversation and soon found my fears of Headwind Harry receding into the shadows of my mind. Sometime in the afternoon, I moved to the porch and drifted off into sleep as I soaked up the power of the sun.
I sensed a hand on my shoulder shaking me and a voice saying “Zeke, Zeke! Are you alright? What are you doing down here?” As I slowly opened my eyes and became aware of my surroundings, I found my “best half” standing over me. I discovered I had quietly left our bed during the night as my fever reached its peak. I’m ready for this head cold and fever to go away…
Until later,
- Zeke
To make a tax deductible donation to support Appalachian State University Cycling, follow this link:
http://www.give.appstate.edu/.
Posts
All Comments
