so, most touring cyclists probably know that when you are biking past houses in the middle of no where, you often times get chased by large menacing dogs off of peoples property that you bike past.
I learned today that sometimes all you have to do is squirt a dog in the face with your water bottle to make them stop chasing you. sorry big black dog and your chihauau sidekick.
Sunday, July 27, 2014
DAY 2: Shelton > Elma
today was a killer though. we woke up and got ready in the walmart bathroom. then we hung out with our meth RV friends who apparently don't sleep because they were up partying until 5am but then reappeared at 8 am with their chihauau puppy, cruiser. I chatted with another parking lot character who popped over from his massive bounder RV who told us he did the ride we did 15 years ago when he was 50. anyway, point being... you meet all kinda of characters when you sleep at Walmart in a tent.
after hitting the road we had a decent amount of claiming to get out of Shelton. none of it was really steep so it was no problem. we quickly learned that Shelton is the chihauau capital of the world or something because every house we passed we were berated with the shrieking sound of micro-dog howls.
we pushed on about 18 miles before we pulled off at lost lake and took a dip and are lunch on the rock beach. we made friends with a couple of fisher dudes.
it wasn't long after that when we made it to our destination town of elma around 2:30pm. we rolled up on three different camping options that either more money than we wanted to pay, or weren't open for check in until 5pm. with that said we went to explore the few blocks of elma and landed in a tourist diner (but there were no tourists other than us).
we hung out at the diner for as long as we could just to get out of the heat. it was near 90 today. when 5 pm rolled around we headed up to check out this hostel we heard let bikers camp in their yard.
sure enough, they did. the price was still a bit higher than we wanted to pay, but the place offered use of their kitchen, a living room and two bathrooms for us to use. also, it is home to a world renowned frisbee golf course haha. we set up our shit and in now time out host jay came out and coerced us in to a frisbee gold lesson. so we got a grand tour of his course and got to play a bit of frisbee golf. so all in all, the hostel was worth it.
tomorrow we are up and off to toledo Washington. it should be our first real day of actual riding. stay tuned!
Saturday, July 26, 2014
DAY 1: Seattle > Shelton
we managed to actually leave Seattle on time this morning and caught the 10am ferry to Bremerton. it was a nice relaxing start to our trip to hang on the ferry a while. I tried to eat a muffin on said ferry, but for some reason I don't want to know the answer to the muffin tasted like gasoline. it was fucking disgusting.
we got to Bremerton around 11am and promptly started riding. everyone was feeling good and we made many stops in the initial 20 miles so everyone could adjust their bikes to their liking. totally excellent.
we were originally anticipating riding 40 some miles to belfair, but 20 miles in we realized we were IN belfair. Woops! I completed forgot I factored in that we were staying 20 miles closer to the Seattle ferry than I originally planned for. anyway, it was a pleasant surprise so we decided to keep on pushing forward and be ahead of schedule. I also thought I saw there was a different camp ground option 20 miles ahead at Shelton.
very shortly after leaving belfair we encountered a STEEP hill. this shit was a total soul crusher. it was only a mile and a half, but it was brutal. since my gasoline muffin was a piece of garbage, I really hadn't eaten much of anything all day. so not long in to the climb I started bonking hard and had to stop and pound half a sin dawg to get my strength up. SIN DAWGS!!!
we raged on for a bit more up and down smaller hills. we stopped to take a break at a gas station about 7 miles out of Shelton and I realized the camp site we were going to stay at was 15 miles back. oops. at this point we were scrambling on where we were going to camp because there isn't really anywhere to do so in Shelton. we searched the internet for options when tod came up with the brilliant idea to see if there was a wal mart on Shelton. sure enough, there is!
for those of you looking for pro tips, wal mart has a policy that you can sleep in their parking lot over night. so here we are, camping on a patch of grass next to a meth RV filled with ex-cons. it is actually pretty awesome for our first night. everyone has been running in throughout the evening grabbing shit they forgot to bring.
anyway, now that we are ahead of schedule we are going to take it easy again tomorrow to let everyone have another chill warm up day.
time to hit the hay! peace easy world.
Friday, July 25, 2014
We made it to Seattle
matt and I got to the hotel around 11 pm last night and decided to just go for it and assemble our bikes. we both did such a shitty job packing our bikes we even surprised ourselves with the atrocious mess that faces us upon opening up the boxes. our bikes were just a disgusting tangle of cables and other crap. it took us about 2 hours to get the bikes together and then we didn't get to sleep until 2:30am.
this morning we still managed to wake up before any respectable human should, so we walked down to the tourist Mecca market that I can't remember the name. we messed around there for a while until George made his triumphant arrival.
we triple teamed putting George's bike together and got it up and moving in no time. we then told our steeds on a test ride to a bike shop and the grocery to dial everything in and I think everyone is ready to rip.
so yeah, now we just hang tough until tomorrow morning when we will catch the ferry at 10am and start making our way back to San Fran.
ps. I've already eaten one sin dog.
here is George wearing his only outfit for the trip. enjoy, ladies.
Monday, July 21, 2014
IMPEDING PILGRIMAGE
Oof! Long time no post. So it is all happening again! Deadly Rigs is hitting the road again this weekend. Myself and some other familiar characters from this blog will be biking from seattle to san francisco.
This crew is rolling pretty deep... It is definitely the largest number of people I've ever toured with on a non-supported tour so it should prove to be chock-full of all kinds of exciting new mishaps. Four of us are doing the entire trip, but we will be rolling 10 deep at various points. Should be nuts.
Anyway, here is a link to check out our general route:
I'm hitting the skies with matt kosoy on thursday evening to fly to seattle (where we will be starting). We'll be meeting up with pat crawford, george murray, and tod seelie for the first portion of the trip. We don't actually start riding until saturday, but make sure to check back often for updates! I am hoping to post every day. Hopefully, others on the trip will do the same.
HERE WE GO!
Saturday, June 23, 2012
ALC Ride Days 6-7: The finish line.
“I have two rules in life - to hell with it, whatever it is, and get your work done.”
- Ray Bradbury
On our journey to LA, there was just one rule: "Eat before you're hungry. Drink before you're thirsty."
By Day 6, I was tired of eating. Damn tired. I felt like a cow getting fattened for slaughter, but I couldn't get fat because I was on wheels all day. So they just kept feeding me. Clif bars, bananas, bagel bites, trail mix...sooner or later everything lost its charm. Powerade, which I don't like to begin with, turned to cough syrup.
Fortunately the road met me with many happy distractions. There was the 80-year-old cyclist who smiled as I passed him, saying something in German I wish I could understand. Later on, a group of pink squirrels passed me.
During the evenings when I had enough energy (and arm strength), I would open Full Tilt by Dervla Murphy. The book is about her lone bicycle journey from Ireland to India in 1963, at the age of 31. Talk about TOUGH. This woman traveled with a pistol, which by chapter two she had used twice (once on hungry coyotes, once on a creep).
I am not so brave. Still, throughout the week I found myself considering the merits of an unsupported ride (this is my first bike tour). The plentiful snacks, medical tents and mapped out directions made the trip a breeze. But with 2,500 cyclists in tow, you don't ever feel alone on the open road. There is always someone to pass. Always another ride on your left. Always another cowbell in the distance.
I'm not shunning those bells by any means. There's just something nice about going at your own pace, deciding when to start and stop, and figuring out where to go next.
Our destination on Day 6 was Ventura. We camped on the beach and took part in a candlelight vigil. The flickering candles and crashing waves were hypnotic. In the darkness, I felt alone for the first time all week. Sixty miles later, this would all become history.
And just like that, Day 7 arrived. I was excited but also relieved. After a week in the saddle, I was feeling fatigued and ready to spend some time on two feet. Our team conquered Malibu's rolling hills and then gathered at the lunch stop so we could ride the final leg together. We took this photo just before getting back on our bikes. In true Hollywood fashion, it looks staged.
As we rolled into Veterans Park in LA, hundreds of people, all clapping and cheering, lined the barricades. Music was playing. I don't recall which song, I just remember an amazing culmination of emotion. It felt like we had just accomplished something momentous. And we did!
Thank you, Brian Kenton Stegall, for encouraging me to do this, helping me train, and pulling me up those last few hills. I couldn't have done it without ya.
On our journey to LA, there was just one rule: "Eat before you're hungry. Drink before you're thirsty."
By Day 6, I was tired of eating. Damn tired. I felt like a cow getting fattened for slaughter, but I couldn't get fat because I was on wheels all day. So they just kept feeding me. Clif bars, bananas, bagel bites, trail mix...sooner or later everything lost its charm. Powerade, which I don't like to begin with, turned to cough syrup.
Fortunately the road met me with many happy distractions. There was the 80-year-old cyclist who smiled as I passed him, saying something in German I wish I could understand. Later on, a group of pink squirrels passed me.
During the evenings when I had enough energy (and arm strength), I would open Full Tilt by Dervla Murphy. The book is about her lone bicycle journey from Ireland to India in 1963, at the age of 31. Talk about TOUGH. This woman traveled with a pistol, which by chapter two she had used twice (once on hungry coyotes, once on a creep).
I am not so brave. Still, throughout the week I found myself considering the merits of an unsupported ride (this is my first bike tour). The plentiful snacks, medical tents and mapped out directions made the trip a breeze. But with 2,500 cyclists in tow, you don't ever feel alone on the open road. There is always someone to pass. Always another ride on your left. Always another cowbell in the distance.
I'm not shunning those bells by any means. There's just something nice about going at your own pace, deciding when to start and stop, and figuring out where to go next.
Our destination on Day 6 was Ventura. We camped on the beach and took part in a candlelight vigil. The flickering candles and crashing waves were hypnotic. In the darkness, I felt alone for the first time all week. Sixty miles later, this would all become history.
And just like that, Day 7 arrived. I was excited but also relieved. After a week in the saddle, I was feeling fatigued and ready to spend some time on two feet. Our team conquered Malibu's rolling hills and then gathered at the lunch stop so we could ride the final leg together. We took this photo just before getting back on our bikes. In true Hollywood fashion, it looks staged.
As we rolled into Veterans Park in LA, hundreds of people, all clapping and cheering, lined the barricades. Music was playing. I don't recall which song, I just remember an amazing culmination of emotion. It felt like we had just accomplished something momentous. And we did!
Thank you, Brian Kenton Stegall, for encouraging me to do this, helping me train, and pulling me up those last few hills. I couldn't have done it without ya.
Thursday, June 21, 2012
ALC Ride Day 5: The gayest day of my life.
That's right. The gayest day of my life. And I mean that in the literal, non-derogatory sense. Never before have I spent an afternoon chatting with, gawking at, and bicycling next to hundreds of flamboyant, glamourous, over-the-top gay men, the vast majority decked out in red.
It was really something.
Day 5 on the ride has come to be known as "red dress day." There was no shortage of red garb - gowns, spandex, even high heels for that matter. I rode behind this gentleman for quite some time.
The day called for only 40 miles - a nice break after going nearly 100 miles the day prior. (Still, some of those hills were harder than the wimpy Evil Twins.) On our way to Lompoc we had a leisurely lunch, barefoot and basking in the sun. About midway through my rice and bean wrap, a gentleman clad in a red Speedo stuffed with dollar bills sat next to us. He introduced himself as David. Judging by his body, he looked more like a "He-Man" than a "David."
He asked us why we were riding. We gave our usual answers - to challenge ourselves, to support a good cause, etc. - things that sound generic when played back. David told us he's HIV positive, and that after he was diagnosed, his life sort of spiraled downhill. He got into drugs, gained 80 pounds, and was generally wading in mucky waters. The HIV medication he needed would've cost him thousands of dollars a month without insurance.
David looked in the mirror one day and was like, what the hell! So he turned his life around big time. He's now a cycling instructor in Healdsburg. If I have the opportunity to take one of his classes, I definitely will. He's so healthy that the HIV strain no longer shows up in his body! Crazy.
Meeting David was the highlight of my day. And not just because of those washboard abs. (Kidding.) His story was inspiring and a wonderful reminder of how many people the ALC ride reaches. Thanks for that, David.
This field of flowers was the second highlight of my day.
It was really something.
Day 5 on the ride has come to be known as "red dress day." There was no shortage of red garb - gowns, spandex, even high heels for that matter. I rode behind this gentleman for quite some time.
The day called for only 40 miles - a nice break after going nearly 100 miles the day prior. (Still, some of those hills were harder than the wimpy Evil Twins.) On our way to Lompoc we had a leisurely lunch, barefoot and basking in the sun. About midway through my rice and bean wrap, a gentleman clad in a red Speedo stuffed with dollar bills sat next to us. He introduced himself as David. Judging by his body, he looked more like a "He-Man" than a "David."
He asked us why we were riding. We gave our usual answers - to challenge ourselves, to support a good cause, etc. - things that sound generic when played back. David told us he's HIV positive, and that after he was diagnosed, his life sort of spiraled downhill. He got into drugs, gained 80 pounds, and was generally wading in mucky waters. The HIV medication he needed would've cost him thousands of dollars a month without insurance.
David looked in the mirror one day and was like, what the hell! So he turned his life around big time. He's now a cycling instructor in Healdsburg. If I have the opportunity to take one of his classes, I definitely will. He's so healthy that the HIV strain no longer shows up in his body! Crazy.
Meeting David was the highlight of my day. And not just because of those washboard abs. (Kidding.) His story was inspiring and a wonderful reminder of how many people the ALC ride reaches. Thanks for that, David.
This field of flowers was the second highlight of my day.
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
ALC Ride Days 3-4: Hills, shmills.
Days 3 and 4. A combined 164 miles. Traveling from King City to Paso Robles to Santa Maria, we would encounter the dreaded "Quadbuster" and "Evil Twins." Eek.
Turns out those hills were a god dang breeze!
Despite their names, they weren't horrible. I chalk that up to training in the Bay Area - an ideal prep school for the ALC ride. The climbs we encountered in Tiburon, the Headlands and Mt. Tam were more challenging than anything we experienced on the route to LA. Though only on the latter did I witness (and join) cyclists singing Little Mermaid songs while tackling the hills.
And, of course, when you climb you get to relax on the way down. On Day 3 we met some wonderful, gentle descents with tailwinds pushing us along. I stopped for a bit to stare at this haunted tree.
We hit a small patch of crosswinds, but they chilled out after our lunch stop in Bradley, where the locals hosted a cookout. Proceeds fund an overseas trip for every kid in town! (It's a tiny town.)
By the third day I felt like I had settled into a rhythm…growing accustomed to waking at 5am, eating breakfast before I was hungry, breaking down our tent, packing up our stuff, stretching, riding, hydrating, etc. It all became routine.
On Day 4 we reached the halfway point to LA. Yes sir! There were all sorts of signs to pose with, but lines were forming for the Kodak moments. So instead, I took the below photo of Brian in front of gorgeous hills.
This was also the day Brian encountered all sorts of bad luck. (He already blogged this below, but it bears repeating.) Here's what went wrong:
- His knee started to hurt from cycling, for the first time ever. (Welcome to your thirties, old man!)
- He wore through his shoe clips and had to buy new ones.
- When he was using one of 327 porta-potties on the trip, someone accidentally took his water bottle.
- He got a flat tire.
- While attempting to fix the flat, he broke one of his tire levers.
- After telling our teammates about these calamities, a bird shat on him! Though, as Vida pointed out, that's actually good luck.
And despite my contempt for pigeons, I'll admit maybe it was good luck. He made it back to camp safely and went to the sports med tent, where a wonderful bloke named Tony worked on the injury. Thanks Tony!
Turns out those hills were a god dang breeze!
Despite their names, they weren't horrible. I chalk that up to training in the Bay Area - an ideal prep school for the ALC ride. The climbs we encountered in Tiburon, the Headlands and Mt. Tam were more challenging than anything we experienced on the route to LA. Though only on the latter did I witness (and join) cyclists singing Little Mermaid songs while tackling the hills.
And, of course, when you climb you get to relax on the way down. On Day 3 we met some wonderful, gentle descents with tailwinds pushing us along. I stopped for a bit to stare at this haunted tree.
We hit a small patch of crosswinds, but they chilled out after our lunch stop in Bradley, where the locals hosted a cookout. Proceeds fund an overseas trip for every kid in town! (It's a tiny town.)
By the third day I felt like I had settled into a rhythm…growing accustomed to waking at 5am, eating breakfast before I was hungry, breaking down our tent, packing up our stuff, stretching, riding, hydrating, etc. It all became routine.
On Day 4 we reached the halfway point to LA. Yes sir! There were all sorts of signs to pose with, but lines were forming for the Kodak moments. So instead, I took the below photo of Brian in front of gorgeous hills.
This was also the day Brian encountered all sorts of bad luck. (He already blogged this below, but it bears repeating.) Here's what went wrong:
- His knee started to hurt from cycling, for the first time ever. (Welcome to your thirties, old man!)
- He wore through his shoe clips and had to buy new ones.
- When he was using one of 327 porta-potties on the trip, someone accidentally took his water bottle.
- He got a flat tire.
- While attempting to fix the flat, he broke one of his tire levers.
- After telling our teammates about these calamities, a bird shat on him! Though, as Vida pointed out, that's actually good luck.
And despite my contempt for pigeons, I'll admit maybe it was good luck. He made it back to camp safely and went to the sports med tent, where a wonderful bloke named Tony worked on the injury. Thanks Tony!
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
ALC Ride Day 2: The rain came down.
I will say this. Ear plugs, a sleeping mat, and some imagination will turn tent-sleeping into a Sealy Posturepedic under starry skies. Never mind that you're surrounded by 2,500 other campers. The only time I heard any cavernous snores was when I got up to relieve my bladder around midnight.
on Day 2 we awoke to overcast skies and watery oatmeal. Those oats have a knack for foreshadowing. We started our ride around 7am. As the day wore on, gray skies turned to mist, which lead to light rain, and ultimately a cold, brooding downpour. These seals were making quite the ruckus - I'm not sure why. They loved or hated the rain, or they smelled delicious fried artichokes in the distance.
We got to the second rest stop (at about mile 40), drenched. Staffers told us it was sunny and warm at the lunch stop, a mere nine miles ahead. Like a naive child, I believed them, wiping graham cracker crumbs from my moist cheeks and hopping back on my bike.
We raced those nine miles only to be greeted with more rain. Waiting out the storm, we sought warmth in Mylar blankets. Everyone tells me how well they work, but my teeth would not quit chattering! We huddled together for shelter under one of the already crowded tents.
I don't think it's a stretch to compare the environment to a Green Bay Packers game, frozen tundra and all. The thought of getting back on my bike was repellent to my muscles. Around noon, the remainder of the ride was called off. I'm not gonna fib…I was relieved! It wasn't me quitting. It was the event staff. I was simply there standing at attention, saluting their wise decision.
Brian spotted the first round of buses (hooray!), and we made a mad dash to get on - squeaking by, with just four seats left. Our bus leader was a fabulous, flamboyant diva of a man. He made sassy jokes and played Liza Minnelli and Judy Garland DVDs as we made our way to King City. It was wonderfully entertaining, and my body began to thaw out. Other members of our team did not fare so well. They had to wait something like four or five hours to get onto a bus. Fortunately the Red Cross provided them with Oreos and additional blankets. But their hearts nearly froze over. Witness Pat and Jason, below.
In the meantime, I was back at camp taking a 20-minute hot shower (so necessary), snacking on cookies and signing up for my complimentary 15-minute massage. Those last 50 miles were a cakewalk.
on Day 2 we awoke to overcast skies and watery oatmeal. Those oats have a knack for foreshadowing. We started our ride around 7am. As the day wore on, gray skies turned to mist, which lead to light rain, and ultimately a cold, brooding downpour. These seals were making quite the ruckus - I'm not sure why. They loved or hated the rain, or they smelled delicious fried artichokes in the distance.
We got to the second rest stop (at about mile 40), drenched. Staffers told us it was sunny and warm at the lunch stop, a mere nine miles ahead. Like a naive child, I believed them, wiping graham cracker crumbs from my moist cheeks and hopping back on my bike.
We raced those nine miles only to be greeted with more rain. Waiting out the storm, we sought warmth in Mylar blankets. Everyone tells me how well they work, but my teeth would not quit chattering! We huddled together for shelter under one of the already crowded tents.
I don't think it's a stretch to compare the environment to a Green Bay Packers game, frozen tundra and all. The thought of getting back on my bike was repellent to my muscles. Around noon, the remainder of the ride was called off. I'm not gonna fib…I was relieved! It wasn't me quitting. It was the event staff. I was simply there standing at attention, saluting their wise decision.
Brian spotted the first round of buses (hooray!), and we made a mad dash to get on - squeaking by, with just four seats left. Our bus leader was a fabulous, flamboyant diva of a man. He made sassy jokes and played Liza Minnelli and Judy Garland DVDs as we made our way to King City. It was wonderfully entertaining, and my body began to thaw out. Other members of our team did not fare so well. They had to wait something like four or five hours to get onto a bus. Fortunately the Red Cross provided them with Oreos and additional blankets. But their hearts nearly froze over. Witness Pat and Jason, below.
In the meantime, I was back at camp taking a 20-minute hot shower (so necessary), snacking on cookies and signing up for my complimentary 15-minute massage. Those last 50 miles were a cakewalk.
Monday, June 18, 2012
ALC Ride Day 1: I only dreamt it was broken.
Somewhere around 2:30am the morning of the ride, I had a dream I was riding my bike. Some clown had replaced my handlebars with goofy, long ones, almost like ape hangers. Then I realized I had two flat tires.
Our alarm went off at the ungodly time of 3:30am. My stomach was nervous. Our dog was confused. After we brushed our teeth and put on cold padded shorts in a groggy haze, we bade Lemmy farewell and loaded our gear into Pat's big green van. Onto the Cow Palace, aka the starting line.
The place was abuzz with cyclists, mostly gay men. Opening Ceremonies started out with 1,000+ people stretching to club music, which I just couldn't get into at 5am. Then a few individuals took the podium to speak about how their lives had been affected by AIDS. It was quite touching and made me feel like I was part of something really special. Between that and my perpetual yawns, I was reminded of the Golden Girls episodes when Dorothy gets married, and Sofia doesn't know whether she's crying or has allergies.
After what seemed like hours, we finally got on our bikes. Yay! I was anxious to start what we'd been training for since March. The route for the day was a cool 82.5 miles. Destination: Santa Cruz. We hit a few decent climbs, though these were largely overshadowed by adrenaline, people cheering, and the views. Man, the views… The scenery that day was simply epic. It got me really excited for the days ahead.
I like your style, mother nature.
Soak that in...
As for the ride itself, I felt great! The first 20 miles were congested, but as the day progressed riders naturally spread out. I found myself in the middle of the pack, spending equal time passing slower riders and being passed by faster ones. Brian was one of the speedsters, but we fell into a plan of meeting up at each rest stop.
A few things I noticed that first day:
- Everyone was so friendly and polite. "On your left, darling." "Love your jersey." "Good morning, rider!" I enjoyed it.
- Each rest stop had a theme. Thinking back on the week, I remember Flappers, Oktoberfest dancers, drag queens, Smurfs, Thunderdome warriors and Jockeys (from the non-breeders cup).
- There was a team of maybe six riders (gents and ladies) dressed as Dolly Parton with gigantic balloon boobs and blonde wigs. They were slightly faster than I was, even with those knockers.
So my flat tire dream of literal and symbolic trepidation was for naught, at least on Day 1. That night, we got into camp, set up our tents, grabbed dinner (two Boca Burger sloppy joes for this cowgirl), and hit the hay by 10pm. We had more than 100 miles to go the next day. Or so we thought.
Our alarm went off at the ungodly time of 3:30am. My stomach was nervous. Our dog was confused. After we brushed our teeth and put on cold padded shorts in a groggy haze, we bade Lemmy farewell and loaded our gear into Pat's big green van. Onto the Cow Palace, aka the starting line.
The place was abuzz with cyclists, mostly gay men. Opening Ceremonies started out with 1,000+ people stretching to club music, which I just couldn't get into at 5am. Then a few individuals took the podium to speak about how their lives had been affected by AIDS. It was quite touching and made me feel like I was part of something really special. Between that and my perpetual yawns, I was reminded of the Golden Girls episodes when Dorothy gets married, and Sofia doesn't know whether she's crying or has allergies.
After what seemed like hours, we finally got on our bikes. Yay! I was anxious to start what we'd been training for since March. The route for the day was a cool 82.5 miles. Destination: Santa Cruz. We hit a few decent climbs, though these were largely overshadowed by adrenaline, people cheering, and the views. Man, the views… The scenery that day was simply epic. It got me really excited for the days ahead.
I like your style, mother nature.
Soak that in...
As for the ride itself, I felt great! The first 20 miles were congested, but as the day progressed riders naturally spread out. I found myself in the middle of the pack, spending equal time passing slower riders and being passed by faster ones. Brian was one of the speedsters, but we fell into a plan of meeting up at each rest stop.
A few things I noticed that first day:
- Everyone was so friendly and polite. "On your left, darling." "Love your jersey." "Good morning, rider!" I enjoyed it.
- Each rest stop had a theme. Thinking back on the week, I remember Flappers, Oktoberfest dancers, drag queens, Smurfs, Thunderdome warriors and Jockeys (from the non-breeders cup).
- There was a team of maybe six riders (gents and ladies) dressed as Dolly Parton with gigantic balloon boobs and blonde wigs. They were slightly faster than I was, even with those knockers.
So my flat tire dream of literal and symbolic trepidation was for naught, at least on Day 1. That night, we got into camp, set up our tents, grabbed dinner (two Boca Burger sloppy joes for this cowgirl), and hit the hay by 10pm. We had more than 100 miles to go the next day. Or so we thought.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)